Lola

The Wedding

        There is a certain time of day in New York where, if you’re in the right place at the right time, you can see the city on fire. If you cross the bridge that connects Manhattan to the rest of the world right as the sun concludes its descent, the iron buildings are cast in a blaze of red and orange glow. The sun blankets the city, the bridge, and the water below in a raging fire.

            The effect is my favorite thing about coming into the city at sunset. And as I see Lola’s rouge painted lips pull into a warm smile I know she loves it too.

            The blazing color bathes the car in its fire; illuminating both of us in an orange hue. Lola’s wind-swept hair cascades down her shoulders in a red tint, her red velvet dress that hugs her chest and flares at her waist looks pink in the warm glow, her black tights seem translucent in the light of the sun, and her cobalt eyes dance in hues of gold. She looks as beautiful and as lethal as a forest fire.

            The sight effectively knocks the air out of my chest and it takes all of my willpower to focus on crossing the bridge in one piece. I roll down the window in hopes of relieving some of the awkward tension in the car, but am only met with the biting wind of New York in February.

            Lola nervously lights her fifth cigarette since entering the truck and I wince as the acrid smoke fills my lungs. I know she is only smoking excessively to calm her nerves, but I’m not sure if my lungs can take much more.

            With much persuading and an aggressive call from Lola’s mother we were granted temporary leeway from our punishment. Mr. Fuller is begrudgingly letting us break our suspension to attend Mrs. Lockheart’s wedding for the night. I think Lola is torn between feeling happy with our little taste of freedom and being anxious and disappointed that she is being forced to attend.

            When we left campus this afternoon I could tell that Logan was peeved at me for attending the wedding with Lola. Only because I assume he wanted to be the one to go with her and also because it is a rarity that Lola is letting anyone into her private life; let alone to meet her mother. Even the thought had my throat closing up.

            Regardless of Lola’s sudden decision to let me into her life, she hasn’t said a word since she helped me pick out one of Charlie’s vintage suits to wear. The shakiness of her fingers and her constant chewing on her bottom lip alerted me that she was extremely nervous and I couldn’t blame her.

            I think this is the first time Lola will actually see her mom in years. And as we pull up to the hotel the wedding is being held I can see Lola’s hard exterior begin to crack and her vulnerability begin to show.

            She runs a trembling hand through her tousled locks before bringing it down to fidget with the material of her dress. She opens the mirror to check her makeup and paints another layer of rouge on her lips that is driving me crazy. When I see her fingers reach into her purse for another cigarette, I clasp my hand around hers.

            “It’ll be okay. I’m here, Lola. I’ll always be right here.” I squeeze her hand tight and she flashes me a grateful smile before exhaling loudly and pulling her tiny purse up her shoulder.

            “Time to face the Wicked Witch of the West –well East, I should say.” Lola hops out of the truck and I sigh in relief when I realize the Lola I know and love is still deep down inside. Lola leads the way into the grand hotel, entering the lobby with the confidence of a true New Yorker.

            Her black ankle boots clack against the polished marble floors as she leads me past the reception, leather couches, and a plethora of chandeliers in the lobby. She doesn’t ask for directions or where the party is being held and only maneuvers through the lobby and down a red carpeted hallway. It’s like as soon as we stepped through the doors she transformed into a different Lola. A Lola who is used to this extravagance and who commands the attention of the room.