It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  Sadly, the new dress only made matters worse. “Who’re you dressing up for when I’m gone?” Tears spotted the new dress as she told him she only wanted to make him proud of her. As before, he relented and put his arms around her, apologizing for making her unhappy. She was afraid to ask him to speak to Estelle about her new friend. He would surely think the worst of her accepting rides home from school on the back of a motorcycle. Lola was worried about Estelle, but she was even more worried about what Wulf might do or say if she told him about it. She did ask him to speak to Joe about school and the importance of an education. The talk ended in a shouting match that nearly escalated into violence.

  Each time Wulf went to sea Lola worked long after the children were sleeping to complete more and more silk ties. The harder she worked, the shorter her temper became; the more Estelle and Joe resisted school, the more her frustration turned to anger. By the time Wulf returned, she felt like she was holding herself together by sheer will power. She paid the grocer and the back rent; the children went to school, and she put away the ties until he left the next time.

  “Funny thing,” said Wulf one day when he had just returned from another trip. “I met a guy from Peru on this voyage—Rudolfo. He was an awful braggart, but I listened ‘cause it reminded me of the old days. He told a tall tale about two sisters, and one of them was named Lola. Isn’t that funny?” The glass in Lola’s hand dropped to the floor and shattered. She clutched the edge of the sink as her knees buckled.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Lola.” Wulf jumped to catch her before she hit the floor. She looked up at his face, pale with shock, and saw concern battle with anger in his expression. He picked her up and sat her down on a chair. Lola was terrified. She knew her reaction said more than any words she could possibly say. To her amazement, Wulf did not explode; he controlled his anger and sat down in front of her.

  “Apparently his tall tale wasn’t so tall,” he said through clenched teeth. “It seems that my wife, who protests her innocence and virtue at every opportunity, isn’t so innocent and virtuous after all.” He looked at her expectantly.

  Lola felt hot tears course down her cheeks. “He claimed my father wanted us to marry and a pregnancy would hasten his decision. I was a gullible, innocent child of thirteen, and I’d never been off the plantation.” She searched his face for a clue that he understood. “He said he wanted to marry me, but he disappeared.” Lola started to sob.

  Wulf’s face was pale and Lola could see the cords of his neck stand out; his lips were pursed together and his brows were almost V-shaped, his frown was so hard. He got up and left the house without a word. Lola sat, unable to move. Her marriage was crumbling around her.

  Dawn was beginning to lighten the sky when Wulf returned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was ashamed. I never told anyone—not anyone. I never even confessed to a priest. I haven’t been to mass since.” Lola had had all night to think about what to say. “When I thought you were dead, my father got very sick.”

  “I heard you went and nursed him back to health.”

  “He wanted me to bring the children. He said he would leave me the plantation.” She had Wulf’s attention. “I gave that up because I knew Estelle would learn that she was illegitimate.” With the icy calm of her father’s anger, she continued. “Wulf, if Estelle ever hears even a whisper of this, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  Lola’s anger loosened her tongue. “You never asked me anything about my past. You said you loved me for what I was when we met. You loved me and you loved my children. I never asked you what you did before we got married. I’m not so naïve as to think that I was the first woman with whom you shared a bed, but that wasn’t important to me. What was important was that you loved me when we married and you promised to be faithful to me from that day forward. I promised the same and I’ve kept that promise. I never, ever thought of looking at another man since that day—not even in the months when I thought you were dead.” It was too dark to see the expression on his face, but she felt his weight as he sat on the bed and heard his shoes hit the floor. She gave thanks that disaster had been averted.

  Lola smiled all the time in the days that followed. Joseph was around more than usual, and she even saw him doing homework a few times. Estelle was smiling more, too. She kissed Wulf goodbye when he shipped out and bent over her sewing machine, trying to make up for the time she’d spent away from it while Wulf was home.

  A few days later, she packaged up a gross of neckties and walked the two blocks to the bus. She paid the money she made from sewing a dozen ties just to get them to the factory and back. She shuddered as she remembered riding in the wagon collecting army uniforms from women who did piece work. No matter how hard her life was, she knew there were many women who would envy her. As she walked from the bus to Simon’s Tie Factory, she looked longingly into the window of a millinery shop. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had a new hat. She loved hats. She loved the colors; she loved the feathers and adornments; she loved the way it could change a woman’s appearance. She walked on to collect her pay and get her next batch of silk ties to sew, day dreaming of making hats.

  The next time she went to town with her ties, she dressed carefully and wore her best hat, which she had brushed carefully. It had been a long time since she’d worn the hat. She saw the children off to school and took Harry to Mrs. Snyder, the next-door neighbor who had befriended her and the children. Her only son had been killed in the war, and her daughters had married and moved away.

  Lola smiled every time she thought of the looks of pure astonishment on the children’s faces when they found the brightly colored eggs Mrs. Snyder hid for them the first Easter. Estelle had confided in her mother that Mrs. Snyder must be crazy because she said a bunny left the eggs. Everyone knew rabbits didn’t lay eggs.

  Lola was excited as she stepped into the millinery shop. What harm could it do to try on the wonderful hats? The proprietress didn’t know she had no money to buy one. It would be a harmless pleasure.

  “This hat is very becoming to madam’s facial structure.” Lola looked at her reflection. Lola flicked the decoration with her finger, causing the pieces to click together.

  “Those are artificial cherries,” said the woman.

  “I know they’re artificial cherries, but they make an annoying sound when I turn my head. This hat would be much nicer with a tall feather—perhaps one of those striped pheasant feathers. The dark brown and beige stripes would complement the dark green, instead of looking like Christmas decorations.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken so critically. She didn’t want the woman to ask her to leave before she’d tried on a few more hats. To her surprise, the woman took the hat, removed the cherries, and found a feather to pin in their place.

  “Like so?” She placed the hat on Lola’s head and they both smiled.

  “Exactly.”

  “Would madam care to try on one of our new cloche hats?” Lola’s eyes lit up as she thought of the very fashionable cloche hats. The woman found a few that she thought suitable and brought them to her. Lola tried them on one by one and shook her head.

  “I’m afraid that isn’t for me,” she said sadly. “I have to be very careful which hat I wear because I’m so short. The feather adds height and gives a focal point a few inches higher for people to look at.”

  A tall elegantly dressed woman entered the shop. Lola could see the shopkeeper’s dilemma. She obviously wanted to serve the new customer, yet was unwilling to abandon Lola.

  “Please, allow me some time to look at some more on my own,” Lola said. The woman smiled her thanks and went to the new customer. Lola couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. The woman found a hat the exact color she wanted, but she was dissatisfied with the design. The shopkeeper was telling her that unfortunately that was the only hat they had in that exact shade.

  “May I?” asked Lola. At the shopkeeper’s almost imperceptible nod, Lola
grasped the back of the brim and gathered in a small amount of felt at the rim.

  “A small alteration in the brim will change the angle and give the hat a sleeker look.” She held her hand over the bow at the side. “With a sleeker silhouette, the bow quite overpowers madam’s delicate features. She might prefer something a bit smaller—a bunch of artificial cherries perhaps?” Lola could barely contain her laughter. She was right, of course. The cherries were perfect for the hat.

  “That’s quite remarkable,” said the customer. “Can you make the changes while I wait?” She was addressing Lola.

  “Of course,” Lola answered. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

  Lola walked toward the back of the shop, followed closely by the shopkeeper. “I can’t leave the front to make alterations now,” the woman whispered frantically. “I always promise them for the following day.”

  “I can do it.” said Lola. Reluctantly the woman showed her where to find what she needed. “I’ll need a spot of glue to keep those cherries from rattling,” Lola said before the woman left her. Lola felt energy flowing through her fingers as they remembered the feel of working with good felt. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, and in a matter of minutes the hat was ready. She blew on the cherries to set the glue. It would have to be handled gently for a couple of hours. Very carefully, she placed it on the customer’s head and held a hand mirror behind her so she could see the back as well.

  The customer left with the hat packed carefully into a hat box.

  “That was fun,” said Lola with a laugh, “but I really must get home now.” She picked up her package of ties and hurried away before the astonished shopkeeper could ask if she wanted the dark green hat.

  Two months later Lola was working in the millinery shop, earning enough to think about getting the children new shoes. Mrs. Snyder was happy to keep Harry until the older children got home from school.

  One evening as Lola was coming up the hill from the bus, she was surprised to see a car parked by her front door. She ran toward the house. What was the man’s name? Danicci. Leonard Danicci. He gave Estelle a ride to school in the mornings. What was he doing at the house without a parent around? She stopped to catch her breath before going up the steps. She opened the door and her eyes widened as she saw them. There he was with his arms around Estelle, kissing her—and she wasn’t even trying to get out of his embrace.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” she shouted. The two moved apart with no look of surprise or guilt.

  “It’s all right, Mama,” smiled Estelle. “We’re going to be married!”

  “Oh, no you’re not!” Lola was emphatic. “Estelle, you’re still in school. You’re too young to get married.”

  “I’m almost fifteen. I’m older than you were when I was born.” Lola was horrified. This man wasn’t right for her daughter.

  “Excuse us, Leonard. Mom and I need to talk for a minute.” With a confident swish of her body, Estelle walked across the room and pulled Lola into the kitchen. They sat at the kitchen table but Estelle couldn’t sit still. She bounced up and walked around as she talked.

  “Mama, don’t spoil this for me. I’m not any good in school and you know I hate it. Everyone makes fun of my accent; I don’t have any friends; the teachers ignore me and think I’m stupid. I’m not going to pass anyway, so why bother? Besides, Leonard and I are in love.” Estelle danced around the room in her excitement. “Don’t you remember what it was like to be young and in love?”

  “Young? He’s older than I am.” Lola wasn’t sure of that, but the man certainly looked over thirty.

  “Mama, this is a good thing for me.” Estelle sat down again and looked at her mother seriously. “He owns his own tailor shop. He makes good money. Did you see the size of his ring? Please, Mama, don’t spoil my moment.”

  “What about your father? Shouldn’t he ask your father for your hand?”

  “Leonard says that’s old fashioned and old world. In this country the young people make up their own minds. I made up my mind.

  “Anyway, Pop Wulf isn’t my real father, and who knows when he’ll be home next. We don’t want to wait.”

  “Estela, baby,” Lola switched to Spanish. It was too hard to speak English when she was upset. “You need to wait. You need to think this through. Marriage is forever.”

  “I have thought it through. I’ve been thinking about it for months and months.” Estelle played her trump card. “We can’t wait, Mama. I might be pregnant.” Lola clutched the edge of the table for support as the room began to tilt. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came from her throat. “Don’t worry, Mama. We’re in love and we’ll be fine.” Estelle put her arm around Lola, kissing her quickly on the cheek. “Now we have to go and tell his parents. I’m so happy!” Lola heard quick steps moving away.

  ~ ~ ~

  Life goes on somehow and we adjust, thought Lola as she her bus passed the house where Estelle and Leonard lived. A block later the bus reached her stop and she began the walk up the hill to her house. At least she’s close, and we can see each other often. Her thoughts turned to the things she had to do once she reached the house.

  “Mama! Mama!” Charlotte was running toward her and shouting in panic. “Joe just set the house on fire!”

  Lola had a split second urge to turn around and run back to the bus. What now? She began to run as fast as her fashionable shoes would let her. Joe hadn’t been happy about having to stay home after school and watch his sisters, but she thought he was doing it fairly well.

  Joe appeared in the doorway and yelled at Charlotte. “I didn’t set fire to the house. Why can’t you mind your own business?”

  Lola slowed to a fast walk. She didn’t see any evidence of fire. Then a wisp of smoke drifted out of the kitchen window and she started running again. As they reached the front door, they heard a muffled explosion.

  “In the kitchen!” shouted Charlotte. Joe’s scowl disappeared in his shock. They all ran to the kitchen. The air was filled with smoke and the smell was terrible.

  “Ay! Dios Mío! ¿Qué pasó?” Lola was so upset she reverted to Spanish. “What happened?”

  “It was just a can of beans,” said Joe.

  “Beans? You set fire to beans?”

  “No, the fire was the paper on the can.”

  “You should’ve—“ said Charlotte, but her mother stopped her with a look.

  “I was hungry and I knew you’d get all upset if I dirtied a pot and you came home to a dirty kitchen. I figured if I heated it in the can, I’d only dirty a spoon.” As Joe talked the smoke cleared, and Lola surveyed the kitchen. The ceiling had beans embedded in the plaster; sauce was dripping down in sluggish drops that landed with soft disgusting plops; there were reddish brown splatters on the cupboards; there was bean sludge on the walls, the floor, the table, the chairs. Lola felt that she was inhaling bean miasma with every breath.

  “All this from one can of beans?” Lola asked. She felt Nellie press against her, trying to see what was happening. She knew Harry would be right behind her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Oh, God, he didn’t want her to come home to a dirty kitchen—and this was the result.

  “Nellie, it’s your job to keep Harry out of this room. Charlotte, help Joe move the table so he can clean the ceiling. You start cleaning at that corner. I’ll change and be right back.”

  Hours later the exhausted family was sitting down for a late supper when Joe grumbled, “If I hadn’t been stuck babysitting this never would’ve happened.”

  “If you’d paid attention in school you’d know things expand when they get hot,” said Charlotte smugly.

  Joe glared at her. “You’re the most...” He was still searching for the right word when something plopped into his stew, splashing gravy in his face.

  “You missed a spot,” said Charlotte.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two days later Lola was again met by Charlotte running toward her at top speed. An unfamiliar car was parked in f
ront of the house.

  “Mama, there’s a truant officer waiting to talk about Joe!”

  “Isn’t Joe home?”

  “No. He wasn’t home when Nellie and I came home, so I got Harry and waited. I don’t know where he is.”

  Lola’s heart lurched. What had happened to Joe? “What’s a truant officer?”

  “When somebody plays hooky the teachers say it’s truancy. I guess it’s the same thing.”

  “Plays hooky?” asked Lola. “It’s about a game?” Her breath came easier.

  “Playing hooky isn’t a game. It’s what Joe and Johnny Fannelli do when they don’t go to school.” Lola had more questions, but they had reached the house. Lola’s hand shook as she reached for the doorknob.

  XIX. March, 1924: Lola turned 30

  “You just let them take him away?” roared Wulf. Lola nodded. Maybe Wulf was right. Maybe she should have refused to let him go. Now that Wulf was here, it didn’t sound as logical as before.

  “The officer sounded so sure that it was the right thing to do. He said Joe was lucky to have this chance. If he didn’t go, the shopkeeper would press charges and Joe would have a criminal record. If I didn’t let them take him to the school for truant boys, the officer said he’d end up in jail.”

  “That’s right, Pop. He did say that, and it was true, too.” Charlotte spoke up to defend her mother.

  “How do you know?” Wulf turned toward her.

  “Mrs. Fannelli yelled at them when they came for Johnny. She wouldn’t let them in the house; she said she knew her rights and they had no papers and no right to take Johnny. They went away, but two days later the cops came and took Johnny. I guess they had the papers.” Charlotte shrugged.

  “How does she know?” asked Wulf in a calmer tone, turning back to his wife. Lola shrugged.

  “I know because I watch, and I listen, and I learn,” said Charlotte with almost comical melodrama. “I figure things out.”