THIS IS AN UNEDITED AND SIGNIFICANTLY DIFFERENT VERSION OF THE MISFORTUNES OF LOLITA. I AM PUBLISHING IT IN FALL 2021—PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON IG @/ls.akhter and GOODREADS (L AKHTER) TO STAY UPDATED. I am so excited to share TMoL with you again.
CHAPTER 6
"Sometimes I think the entire world is crumbling on top ofme."
―Lolita's writing journal
When Frank went to school the next week, Lolita was nowhere to be seen.
Lana and Robin, however, were sitting atop their throne, back in business.
"Frank." Robin found him at his locker. Frank was contemplating changing his locker, because this was getting real fucking annoying.
He didn't respond. That was his strategy - don't talk, don't acknowledge. Pretend Robin's an ant. Don't step on him, though.
"Yo, Frank." Robin said. "Look, I know it was a dick move."
Frank shoved his books inside his locker. Took out his jacket, gloves. Put them on.
"You really punched me for that - that crazy bitch?" Robin said.
"Yeah." Frank said. "Don't make me do it again." Although he was dying to. He was dying to shove Robin's head onto a wall and kick him in the groin. Repeatedly.
"Fuck that, man." Robin said. "We're friends. She's psycho."
Frank closed his eyes. Opened them. Blinked. "Are you fucking serious?"
Robin looked surprised.
"You're a guy, who hurts girls and locks them inside the school." Frank spat. "Have you checked if you have some psychological issues?"
"Look, I'm sorry you got stuck in here, too!" Robin said, pushing his hippy blond hair back. "Lana's sorry about that. We all are. But that bitch deserved it."
"Fuck off." Frank said, pushing past Robin.
Thankfully, Robin had the wits to not call Frank again as he walked. Because Frank was ready to beat the shit out of him, take him to the main office, and tell the principal that Robin was injured.
It's okay, right? He would say.
After school hours. Nothing can be done, right? He would say.
"Frank!" someone called, and Frank's jaws clenched. Come on.
He kept walking, but she caught up.
"Frank, right?" Talia said.
They always said that Talia was prettier than Lolita. And that was the truth. Talia had a nice, red jacket, and she had brown hair, and her eyes were soft hazel, like warm honey. She was better than Lolita, everyone said. A less harsh version of the painting in black and brown.
But Frank noticed things - flaws in Talia that perhaps others found attractive. When she talked, her voice edged towards raspy, and her eyes were kind of dulled, really. She had a dusting of spots on her skin, as if the alcohol and drugs had been boiling her from within. When she smiled at him, her smile was all wrong too.
"Yeah." Frank looked straight ahead. Lolita never wore anything tight - as opposed to Talia, who was walking so close to him that he couldn't help but glance down her shirt.
"You like Lolita, huh?" she said.
"Who are you?" he said.
"Talia." She said. "I'm Lolita's best friend."
"Not anymore." Frank muttered.
"She thinks so. But you can't really stop being friends with someone who was like your sister." Talia said. For a moment, Frank felt sorry for her.
He didn't say anything to keep the conversation going.
Talia sighed. "Who do you think called the sheriff, big boy?"
Frank blinked. "That was you."
"Yeah. Troy told me about Lana's plan." Talia's voice was softer now. "I couldn't do anything last time. So."
Frank didn't really know what to say.
On one hand, Talia was the one who sunk Lolita. Drowned her, more like - and that was according to rumors. On the other hand, she'd had a spark of kindness when they were nearly hypothermic in the cold. Frank couldn't exactly hate her.
"It's the least you could do." Frank said. He didn't want to say it, but he did.
"Oh, fuck you." Talia said, stopping. "She stopped being my friend, not the other way around."
"Yeah." Frank said. "Look, I don't know you, but I'm guessing cleaning up your messes after you got a little tiring."
Talia's eyes widened. "The last time I help the likes of her."
Frank laughed. "Yeah, Talia. Lolita doesn't need any more of your help."
And then, the most surprising thing happened. Instead of lashing out, Talia's eyes softened, and she nodded at him. She smiled. And then, she left.
---
Frank knocked once. Twice.
Not on his door. On Lolita's.
The sheriff opened. When he saw Frank, he pursed his lips. "Can I help you?"
"Lolita wasn't here today." Frank said. "I was wondering if she was okay?"
"None of your business." The sheriff shut the door on his face.
When Frank got inside his house, his mother smiled at him sympathetically, folding her newspaper and putting it on the table.
"None of my business." Frank said.
"Ouch." His mother said. Sometimes she acted like Cora more than his mother.
"I'm tired." Frank said.
"Frank."
"What?"
"You really like this girl, don't you?" His mother said.
"Mama, I'm not really in the mood for your soap opera."
"Frank!" she sounded hurt. "That was completely uncalled for."
He stared at her. "Mama."
"I just want to talk to you, son." She said, smiling hopefully.
Frank sighed. "About?" Although he knew already.
"Lo-lee-tah." She said.
She patted on the spot beside her on the couch, and he breathed out, sitting down.
"So." His mother said, after a long minute of silence. "Tell me about her."
"Mama."
"Come on, kid."
What could Frank say about Lolita?
"She's strong." He said.
"A cute looking girl." Frank's mother nodded.
Cute. Yeah, Frank saw what could be cute about Lolita. She did have a playful look in her eyes, at times, and her nose was cute. Her smile was cute, too. She was cute.
But she was also severe - sometimes her eyes were so dark that they were more intense than enchanting, and her hands were soft, but her shoulders were stiff, like she was waiting to be attacked. And her hair was something other worldly, on its own - Frank didn't even know how he kept himself from touching it every time he saw her.
And sometimes, when she was quiet in biology, she would take his pencil - probably not even realizing it was his - and she'd start writing these little poems, as if something in her mind had just inspired her.
What did that even mean, for Frank? That he liked her mind?
Not that he didn't like her body. Even when she was wearing the baggy sweater, sometimes he noticed the curve of her waist, and the arch of her back, and did he mention her black coffee eyes and midnight river hair?
He liked her adjectives, and her nouns.
"Whatever that means." He muttered, shaking his head.
"Huh?" his mother sounded amused.
"What?" he said.
"You've been sitting here for ten minutes now." She smirked. "So, what do you like about Lolita?"
He closed his eyes. "I'm going to my room. Don't wake me up."
"Sure, lovebug."
"Mama."
"Sweet dreams, sweetums."
"Agh."
---
"Frank." His mother knocked on his door.
Frank's eyes flew open, and he groaned, his voice laced with sleep. "I told you to not wake me, mama."
And then he realized that maybe his father was back. But when he glanced at the watch, it was only seven in the evening - he'd gotten a mere two hours of sleep - his father usually didn't return from his 'adventures' until midnight. Or even dawn.
"Uh, someone's here to see you." His mother's voice was filled with mischief. She was almost giggling.
"Frank." A voice that was as soft as a rose petal said. "It's Lolita."
"I'll leave you two to it." Frank's mother full on laughed.
Frank sat up, his eyes wide open, his heart in his throat. He glanced around in his room.
"Shit." He muttered. His room was a mess. His drawings were all over his table, some even on the ground. His jacket and sweater were strewn on the cupboard, and he was pretty sure his hair was just plain fucked up.
He got up. "Uh."
"Frank. I want to see you." Lolita said from the other side of the door. "Please?"
He didn't know what kind of spell she'd put on him, but when he heard her, his legs moved on their own accord, and his hand opened his door in a flash.
"Hi." Lolita said.
Her hair was messy and damp like she'd just taken a shower. Her eyes were focused on him.
"Hey." Frank said. Well. Said would be the wrong verb to use.
"Uh." She said. She had her bulky black jacket on.
"Do you want to come inside?" he said.
"I am a little curious." She smiled. Frank's heart went overboard.
He leaned back, and she walked inside, standing in the middle of his room, her eyes wandering over his drawings, his bed, his cupboard, him. She looked like she was understanding him, just by looking at his room.
"You're curious." Frank left his door ajar. And then he closed it.
"Just checking if you're a werewolf." She said. "No sign of anything with claw marks."
Frank laughed. "I think you're safe."
Lolita smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. She unzipped her jacket. "Beautiful drawings. Who's that girl?"
"Cora." He said. It was a drawing of Cora smiling, wearing her graduation hat. He'd replicated a picture, because they couldn't order the actual print.
"Cora?" she looked at him.
"My sister." He said.
"Oh." She looked away, taking her jacket off, one arm at a time.
"She's in college." Frank looked at her. She took her jacket and put it on the chair beside his drawing table.
Those little wisps of feathers were covering her back, and her sleeves - like stars on the night sky. She wove her fingers through her hair.
"You're talented." She said, softly, looking at the portraits.
Frank shrugged, but inside, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning - Lolita liked his drawings.
Lolita glanced at him. "Can you draw me?"
He looked at her. "I could."
"Let's do it." She smiled.
Frank wasn't sure that was a good idea.
What if, in the middle of a stroke, he noticed that her lips were really doll-like, and decided to - to...
Yeah. This wasn't a good idea.
Lolita grabbed a parchment, and a 4b pencil - the one that's perfect for sketching, not too smudgy, not too stiff. She handed him the materials, and sat down on his bed, patting on the spot in front of her.
"Come here." She said.
Frank sat down, slowly. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."
"Please." She said.
"Okay." he said.
Lolita smiled. "Okay. So, do I just sit here?"
"Maybe leaning back on the wall." He said.
She squatted down until her back was leaning on the wall, and then she leaned her head up, looking at him with dropped eyelids and parted lips. She looked -
Hypnotizing.
He knew he should ask her where she'd been, why she wasn't in school, he should ask her if she was goddamn okay, but he could only stare.
"Do I look okay?" she whispered, as if she was afraid he would say that she didn't.
He moved closer to her. "Yeah."
"Okay." she smiled.
"Just..." his voice was just as quiet as hers.
"What?" she whispered.
Frank brushed her hair back, his fingers lingering. And then, he plucked a feather from the neckline of her shirt. She smiled, shakily.
His fingers traced the arch of her neck, and then brushed her jaw line, and then her lips, and then he stopped. Lolita's eyes stayed on him.
"You look great." He leaned closer.
"Don't whisper." She whispered.
He glanced at her soft lips. Then looked back at the galaxy that was in her eyes. "Hm?"
"Don't whisper, Frank." She said, her voice breaking. "It drives me insane."
When Frank pressed his lips to her cheek, she closed her eyes. "You look fine." He said against her skin.
"Why are you doing this?" she muttered.
"Hell if I knew." He said.
"If you're going to make fun of me in school tomorrow, now's the perfect time to lean back and laugh at me." She said, kind of brokenly.
"Lolita." Frank said. "Lolita." He leaned back.
Lolita opened her eyes, as if waiting for the punch-line. "I missed you, strangely." She said.
"Strangely?"
"Yeah." She smiled, leaning closer to him, resting her forehead on his. The drawing utensils sat unnoticed beside them. Frank's hands held on to her waist. "I kind of don't start liking people that easily. You seem to be an exception."
If he could swallow her words, he would. Maybe then his insides would be brighter - maybe he could scrape all the dusty parts of his mind with her words. Maybe he was already doing so.
"You sound like you've got yourself all figured out." He said.
"I had lots of time to do that." She said. "Been myself for a while, now." She said it as if herself were a burden she'd been carrying for seventeen years.
She raised her fingers, shakily, like she was gathering courage, and grasped onto his face.
Frank swallowed whatever words he had been about to utter.
Lolita looked at him. "You won the genetic lottery, Frank."
"Is that your way of saying I look good?" he raised an eyebrow, an old Chicago thing he used to do, to flirt. Old Chicago thing. Not that old. It had only been two months.
"Look at you." She whispered. "Eyes, cheekbones." Her eyes travelled down his face. "Lips. Jaw line. You're so writeable."
"Mhm." The tips of her fingers brushed his lips.
"God," she smiled. "You inspire a thousand words with your every glance."
Frank couldn't breathe.
He vaguely wondered how she could do that. How she could make him feel like that - when he'd spent his time making others feel the same way, before. He was supposed to be the one who made Lolita feel mushy inside.
"So, tell me." She said. "You could have anyone, right?"
Frank didn't say anything.
"Why do you like me?" her voice wobbled.
"I don't know." He said. "I think that's the point. I just like you."
"Why aren't you giving up on me yet?" Lolita asked, her eyes watering. She moved her hands away. "Don't you see? I can't deal with you."
"Lolita."
"You're going to wake up, one day, Frank." She said. "You're going to wake up and realize that you're too good for this godforsaken girl, and you're too good, and then you're going to leave. I can't deal with that."
"Stop it." Frank said.
"Here." Lolita stood up frantically, walking to her jacket, her steps shaky. She reached her hand inside a pocket. "Look. You know what I do on my spare time?"
Frank stood up.
"Here." She turned around, bumping right into him, a little notebook in her hand. "I'm starting to write poems about you, Frank."
"Lolita."
"And that scares the shit out of me." She said. "You know why?" her tears fell down her apple round cheeks. "Because poems become memories after you leave, Frank."
"Lolita."
"No, listen." She was desperate. "Please. You have to stop doing this."
"I'm not doing anything." Frank said, grasping her shoulders.
"No." she said. "Look at your hands. You're holding me, Frank. If this is all a big joke, please stop. Right now."
"Nothing is a joke, Lolita." Frank said, taking her notebook and throwing it on his bed. He grasped her face, wiping her soft cheeks. Her eyes were like oceans. "Are you here to warn me off?"
"Frank." She said. "I'm telling you. You deserve someone better."
"Lolita." He said. "Stop."
"Please don't do this to me." She whispered, her eyes wild. "I'm hanging on by a very thin thread and you can't be the one to snap it."
"Hey." Frank said.
"No." she said. "Frank, don't you understand?"
"Lolita."
"You don't really like me." She said.
"Don't."
"Frank, this is my final year in this place. Then, I get to be free." She said. "I am trying so hard to pull myself together. Don't do this to yourself. Don't touch shattered glass."
"Lolita." Frank said.
"Be mean to me, Frank." Lolita sounded tired. "Make me hate you."
"Go out with me." He said, finally.
"What?" she leaned away.
"I want you to go out with me." He said. "Do you want to go out with me?"
"Did you just -" she looked at him. "Did you hear anything I said?"
"I heard it, loud and clear." Frank said. "And I was wondering, if you wanted to go on a date with me."
Lolita looked at him.
Frank smiled. "Do you?"
"You." She whispered, looking at him like he was crazy. "Uh. Okay."
"Is that a yes?" he asked.
"Yeah." She touched her neck. "God."
"Perfect." He said. "Where were we?"
"I." she muttered. "Um."
Frank grabbed the notebook off of his bed, and put it inside her jacket pocket. "Come here." He said.
Lolita moved closer, hesitantly, and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes. Frank wrapped his arms around her, around this sad story.
This time, holding Lolita felt like holding a storm cloud. She shook in his arms, and when his head buried onto the curve of her shoulder, she grasped onto his shirt. When she relaxed and her fingers traced his back, he sucked in a breath.
"My dad didn't let me come to school." She said, softly. "I heard you when you came today. To see me."
"Okay."
"Thank you." She whispered.
"I wanted to see you." Frank said.
"They think we were stuck inside the school because," she said. "Because I was getting frisky with you and we lost track of time."
Frank laughed. "Yeah, I wish."
Lolita closed her eyes. "Okay."
Frank's fingers ran up and down her spine, like she was his favorite book. "How long can you stay?" he asked.
"I don't really care." She said. "They're not home. On a date, or something."
"Oh." Frank said. "I'll draw you, then."
"Okay." she leaned back, smiling at him.
And just like that, Frank fell down a rabbit hole. He fell for Lolita, inevitably, accidentally, beautifully.
No one could love Lolita.
Not even Lolita herself.
And Frank wanted to change that.
---
This story has consumed my mind completely and I love that. What are your thoughts on Lolita's mental state?
Thank you for reading! I'm blown away by everyone's support, I never knew that this story could be so close to so many people.
Dedicated to Sriya for her lovely long comment, it made me smile :3 Thank you!