Categories > Original > Drama > Lola
I didn't like this scenario, us sitting in a cozy little coffee shack. I had wanted to square things away as quickly and easily as possible, but that wasn't going to happen. I was curious though, all about Gwen's past and who she really was.
"I was born In Boston. My father was a hard working man as a construction site foreman. My mother was a stay-at-home. We were stable, a happy simple family. Things were great growing up. But then my mother passed away, AIDS. My mother was sleeping around behind my fathers back, and one of her partners had the virus. We thought it was just a random illness, we couldn't afford any of the meds. My father didn't know how to feel, angry for her infidenlity, or pity for a dying woman he once loved."
Her voice was calm, collected, and terse. I kept my mouth shut as she continued.
"I breezed through high school, it was easy. The skimpier I dressed, the more popular I became. I wasn't a slut, far from it. I was a free spirit, playing cat and mouse with boys hearts and feelings, giving them an inch, and taking back a mile. My father didn't approve of my clothes, but I didn't care. It wasn't until I was almost gang raped at a party did I calm down. Ruthies in my fuzzy navel, I never knew you should pour your own drink at the time."
I grunted when she mentioned this to me, just another stupid naive girl who went too far and barely made it back. I expelled it from my mind, it wasn't fair to judge her on past events.
"The only reason I made it home safe with my virginity was because the one throwing the party, their parents came home early and caught all of us kids running amok. I managed to escape out of the garage window. Soon after, I refused to talk to anyone, becoming a recluse even to myself. When I graduated, hardly anyone recognized me."
She stopped to take a sip of her coffee, "Ugh, it's cold. You sure you don't want anything?"
She asked this plainly, as if she had told her story over and over and it was a routine.
"Fine, yes. You know what I like and how I like it." I said, feeling a little uneasy with all of this.
She smiled and walked off to make her purchase. I took this time to think things over myself. What was I going to do after all of this? I didn't plan on killing Lola now, but could I really face her? I felt like I had been stalking this woman for what seemed like years now, taking her address that I had gotten and ran it through the internet, finding it. I had the exact location, directions, everything. What was keeping me from going through with this?
Gwen came back, ending my internal conversation.
"Here you go, " she said cheerfully as she set our drinks down on the small quant table.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, taking a sip gingerly.
"Nothing important, proceed please."
She stirred her coffee as she spoke, "From then on, I was careful with who I spoke to, hung out with at college. I was enjoying myself, the college life was fun, challenging, and inspirational. Parties made friends, friends brought booze, booze made good bedfellows with drugs. I wanted to be a school teacher so badly. I was in my Sophomore year of college, this past fall, when my father suddenly died. He had a heart attack while supervising a job site, he fell from the steel girders and died on impact twelve stories below. Needless to say, there was no open casket, and I hate funerals too."
I drank my coffee, it was decently made, she had prepared it to my liking. I needed the caffeine boost to get me through the late night drive.
"Now, I'm all alone. I have no siblings, no parents, only my mothers sister. My friends stopped talking to me, they said I was too dreary and depressing. I dropped out of college, lacking the will and dedication to finish what I had started. I couldn't feed my addiction anymore, I had no money to fund it. But then one day, my Aunt met a nice woman at a bridge game. They became friends, and I was invited to tag along to get out of the gloomy confines of my apartment."
She paused, taking another drink of her coffee, not looking at me. She began to fidget with her plastic coffee stir, bending over her finger and twisting it around.
"Your mother saw that I was lonely, hurt, beaten by life. She told me about you, showed me childhood pictures of you, told me how a great and wonderful person you were. She made you sound like christmas morning, like the dropping of the ball on New Years. I wanted to meet you, but for some reason, you'd never come around. You'd always come up with some excuse of why you couldn't come by. I wanted to meet you so badly, for so long. Your mother built me up on you, she had me anticipating our eventual meeting."
She was soft spoken now, still not looking at me. She was still playing with the coffee stir, almost nervously disfiguring it with her fingers. She exhaled deeply and slowly before continuing.
"You had me sold when I first met you, I know it was a first date kind of thing. You were handsome, smart, funny. But yet, you were still quiet and secluded at times during our date. You never spoke of your father, or your friends, or even about your writing. I'd talk to your friends occasionally, learning little snippets of you, as I tried to piece you together. Every guy that I had met, up until you, only wanted to get in my pants. They wanted a trophy girlfriend to parade around to stroke their egos. But you weren't like that, I actually started to think you didn't like me. And I wanted so badly for you to want me as much as I had wanted you."
She sniffled quietly, wiping a tear from her face. I didn't move, speak, or anything aside from observe.
"I thought, maybe you didn't like me because I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or mature enough. So I started to wear makeup again, dressing better, even going on a diet, all in hopes of impressing you. Your mother had told me all these wonderful things about you, and I really wanted to see those features and characteristics that she spoke of. But you never let me in, you refused to open up to me. I had no idea you held such pain and sorrow in you, your mother never told me those things. Not even Ethan or Hunter or Echo. I was in love with you before I ever even saw you, I fell in love by the things your mother told me. And it hurt, to be in love with a mystery, to be in love with someone who you never met and wouldn't let you know them."
Her shoulders shook slightly, she covered her face with her hands, trying to hide herself from me.
I couldn't help but think, "Am I like that with Lola?".
I lost my train of thought when Gwen reached out a shaky hand and touched mine.
"So you see Tyler, I do love you. I loved you for a very long time now. And it's okay if you don't love me as much or even at all. I just wanted you to know that someone, here in your life, loves you more than any Echo could-"
"I don't love Echo." I said coldly interrupting her.
"Or Lola Chloe.."
I looked up at her, and saw her staring back at me. I panicked and looked back down at my feet.
"Look at me Tyler, please.."
I fidgeted in my seat, it was suddenly very hot in the building.
"I've let you in, so will you finally let me in?"
Her voice was still soft, almost pleading. Her hand was touching mine, her thumb and forefinger gently stroking. I gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, before I pulled my hand away.
"I'll be right back...I gotta go to the bathroom."
"I was born In Boston. My father was a hard working man as a construction site foreman. My mother was a stay-at-home. We were stable, a happy simple family. Things were great growing up. But then my mother passed away, AIDS. My mother was sleeping around behind my fathers back, and one of her partners had the virus. We thought it was just a random illness, we couldn't afford any of the meds. My father didn't know how to feel, angry for her infidenlity, or pity for a dying woman he once loved."
Her voice was calm, collected, and terse. I kept my mouth shut as she continued.
"I breezed through high school, it was easy. The skimpier I dressed, the more popular I became. I wasn't a slut, far from it. I was a free spirit, playing cat and mouse with boys hearts and feelings, giving them an inch, and taking back a mile. My father didn't approve of my clothes, but I didn't care. It wasn't until I was almost gang raped at a party did I calm down. Ruthies in my fuzzy navel, I never knew you should pour your own drink at the time."
I grunted when she mentioned this to me, just another stupid naive girl who went too far and barely made it back. I expelled it from my mind, it wasn't fair to judge her on past events.
"The only reason I made it home safe with my virginity was because the one throwing the party, their parents came home early and caught all of us kids running amok. I managed to escape out of the garage window. Soon after, I refused to talk to anyone, becoming a recluse even to myself. When I graduated, hardly anyone recognized me."
She stopped to take a sip of her coffee, "Ugh, it's cold. You sure you don't want anything?"
She asked this plainly, as if she had told her story over and over and it was a routine.
"Fine, yes. You know what I like and how I like it." I said, feeling a little uneasy with all of this.
She smiled and walked off to make her purchase. I took this time to think things over myself. What was I going to do after all of this? I didn't plan on killing Lola now, but could I really face her? I felt like I had been stalking this woman for what seemed like years now, taking her address that I had gotten and ran it through the internet, finding it. I had the exact location, directions, everything. What was keeping me from going through with this?
Gwen came back, ending my internal conversation.
"Here you go, " she said cheerfully as she set our drinks down on the small quant table.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, taking a sip gingerly.
"Nothing important, proceed please."
She stirred her coffee as she spoke, "From then on, I was careful with who I spoke to, hung out with at college. I was enjoying myself, the college life was fun, challenging, and inspirational. Parties made friends, friends brought booze, booze made good bedfellows with drugs. I wanted to be a school teacher so badly. I was in my Sophomore year of college, this past fall, when my father suddenly died. He had a heart attack while supervising a job site, he fell from the steel girders and died on impact twelve stories below. Needless to say, there was no open casket, and I hate funerals too."
I drank my coffee, it was decently made, she had prepared it to my liking. I needed the caffeine boost to get me through the late night drive.
"Now, I'm all alone. I have no siblings, no parents, only my mothers sister. My friends stopped talking to me, they said I was too dreary and depressing. I dropped out of college, lacking the will and dedication to finish what I had started. I couldn't feed my addiction anymore, I had no money to fund it. But then one day, my Aunt met a nice woman at a bridge game. They became friends, and I was invited to tag along to get out of the gloomy confines of my apartment."
She paused, taking another drink of her coffee, not looking at me. She began to fidget with her plastic coffee stir, bending over her finger and twisting it around.
"Your mother saw that I was lonely, hurt, beaten by life. She told me about you, showed me childhood pictures of you, told me how a great and wonderful person you were. She made you sound like christmas morning, like the dropping of the ball on New Years. I wanted to meet you, but for some reason, you'd never come around. You'd always come up with some excuse of why you couldn't come by. I wanted to meet you so badly, for so long. Your mother built me up on you, she had me anticipating our eventual meeting."
She was soft spoken now, still not looking at me. She was still playing with the coffee stir, almost nervously disfiguring it with her fingers. She exhaled deeply and slowly before continuing.
"You had me sold when I first met you, I know it was a first date kind of thing. You were handsome, smart, funny. But yet, you were still quiet and secluded at times during our date. You never spoke of your father, or your friends, or even about your writing. I'd talk to your friends occasionally, learning little snippets of you, as I tried to piece you together. Every guy that I had met, up until you, only wanted to get in my pants. They wanted a trophy girlfriend to parade around to stroke their egos. But you weren't like that, I actually started to think you didn't like me. And I wanted so badly for you to want me as much as I had wanted you."
She sniffled quietly, wiping a tear from her face. I didn't move, speak, or anything aside from observe.
"I thought, maybe you didn't like me because I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or mature enough. So I started to wear makeup again, dressing better, even going on a diet, all in hopes of impressing you. Your mother had told me all these wonderful things about you, and I really wanted to see those features and characteristics that she spoke of. But you never let me in, you refused to open up to me. I had no idea you held such pain and sorrow in you, your mother never told me those things. Not even Ethan or Hunter or Echo. I was in love with you before I ever even saw you, I fell in love by the things your mother told me. And it hurt, to be in love with a mystery, to be in love with someone who you never met and wouldn't let you know them."
Her shoulders shook slightly, she covered her face with her hands, trying to hide herself from me.
I couldn't help but think, "Am I like that with Lola?".
I lost my train of thought when Gwen reached out a shaky hand and touched mine.
"So you see Tyler, I do love you. I loved you for a very long time now. And it's okay if you don't love me as much or even at all. I just wanted you to know that someone, here in your life, loves you more than any Echo could-"
"I don't love Echo." I said coldly interrupting her.
"Or Lola Chloe.."
I looked up at her, and saw her staring back at me. I panicked and looked back down at my feet.
"Look at me Tyler, please.."
I fidgeted in my seat, it was suddenly very hot in the building.
"I've let you in, so will you finally let me in?"
Her voice was still soft, almost pleading. Her hand was touching mine, her thumb and forefinger gently stroking. I gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, before I pulled my hand away.
"I'll be right back...I gotta go to the bathroom."
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