It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “They gave me an address, but he hasn’t answered my letters.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll go and see if they allow visitors and when.” Lola felt a weight of responsibility lift from her shoulders. It was wonderful to have Wulf home to pick up the reins of male responsibility. Wulf had his faults, but shirking his duties wasn’t one of them. She barely had time to manage the household around her work schedule.

  The next day when Lola came home from work, Wulf told her he’d seen Joe. He took him paper, envelopes, pen, and stamps. Joe promised to write once a week. He laughed as he told Lola that he thought Joe had inherited his temper. Lola didn’t see the joke. The only part of Wulf that worried her was his temper.

  Lola climbed the hill from the bus stop with the happy anticipation of spending an evening with her husband. When she walked through the door her smile evaporated as she saw the rage on Wulf’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” She knew better than to ask again.

  It was not until the children were asleep that Wulf spoke again.

  “You lied to me,” he said in a flat, icy tone. His eyes held no more warmth than his voice. Lola swallowed convulsively. She’d never seen this kind of anger from him. His usual anger was hot, quick, and explosive. This came out like a glacier—slow and inexorable. Guilt weighed her down and filled her stomach with stones. Guilt over what? She searched her mind for a lie.

  “I didn’t—“ Wulf threw a piece of paper in her lap. She felt weak as she recognized her accounting of the stocks and the money she had received from Charlie.

  “You lied. You said the money you gave me was all he left you. You let your children do without things like new shoes; you deprive your family of things they need; you leave your children alone or in the care of strangers while you work; you begrudge me the odd bottle of whiskey because you say the money should go for food. And all the time you had a secret fortune tucked away. What kind of selfish miser are you?” Wulf seemed to tower over her.

  “You don’t understand.” Lola’s guilt got even heavier.

  “No, I don’t understand. I’ll never understand hoarding money while those you care for do without. I don’t understand lying to your husband, either.”

  Lola chose her words carefully. “I told the truth. I said that what I brought out of the bank was all the money he left us. What you see on that paper isn’t real money.”

  “Not real money? What is it? Fake money? Counterfeit money?”

  “Do you know what stocks are?” When Wulf shook his head, she continued. “I didn’t know either. This was something beyond our experience. Neither one of us had the knowledge to handle these resources. The bank manager told me the papers had increased in value in the time it took the British Embassy to get me the letter they needed.

  “At first I didn’t tell you about it because I knew that we’d do something foolish out of our combined ignorance.” She willed him to believe her. “One of the things I always loved about you is your generosity. Maggie told me you gave them the money to get the house, and you gave her money every time you got paid, even though you could easily have stayed on the ship and not spent any money on a house. I loved that about you.” How should she say what she needed to say next? She decided not to lie to him. Not now, not ever.

  “I needed time to think. I didn’t trust the banker, and I needed to talk to someone who could help me understand what he was telling me. By the time I thought about Charlie, you’d already shipped out. Then I thought you were dead.” Lola shuddered as she remembered. She would never tell him she suspected he might have abandoned them. There was a limit to truth.

  “I went to Charlie and he agreed with the banker. I shouldn’t sell the stocks. I signed them over to him to manage. He didn’t give us much, but it helped us survive. He promised to sell when the time was right and we could live on the proceeds. How do you think we lived that year?”

  “I thought the bosun…”

  “The bosun, God bless him, would never’ve kicked us out, but think about it. He couldn’t afford the house without you--even before there were so many extra mouths to feed and growing children to clothe. Maggie knew I was getting money from my brother-in-law. Without it we would’ve all been hungry.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “When you came back, I was in shock at what I considered your resurrection. Then the time had passed. What could I say then?”

  “You could’ve said what you’re saying now. I can’t believe you hid it all these years. Good God, woman, we’ve been here for more than three years!”

  “Yes, and we wouldn’t be here yet if I’d sold those things when I got them. You’d be here and your wife and children would still be in Peru, trying to scrape together enough money for passage.”

  “You said you got the money for the tickets from Charlie. That means you lied again. It was the money you had hidden all the time.”

  “No. Charlie refused to sell the stocks before the time was right. I told you the truth. He loaned me the money for our passage—and we used the rest for the house. When he thinks the time is right, he’ll sell them and repay his loan.”

  “But it belongs to us. He can’t refuse to sell them.” Wulf was nearly shouting. “Why didn’t you tell him to sell them when you were sewing those miserable silk ties for nine cents a dozen? You worked day and night and still didn’t have the money to buy a washing machine until you got your job making hats. Why’d you do that when you had a fortune? You should’ve made him sell.”

  Lola was relieved that Wulf was getting caught up in the story and his anger was changing into the hot tempered anger she knew would cool. The new anger was directed at Charlie for the moment. She shook her head. “I begged him to sell, but he refused. The worst part is that he can refuse to sell them. He has legal control over the stocks.”

  “So he’s cheating you out of a fortune.” Wulf jumped out of his chair, unable to sit still. “He’s cheating you and the children—and you’re letting him. You didn’t even tell me? You just sewed those damned ties.”

  Lola ran to Wulf and threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. He did love her. His anger was about her having to work so hard. “Don’t be angry, Wulf. I made a mistake.” He put his arms around her and all was right with the world again.

  ~ ~ ~

  Lola missed Estelle and Joe. She worried about Joe all alone in that school. She hated having to put so much responsibility on Charlotte to keep the young ones until she got home. Poor Charlotte was only ten, and Harry was a handful now. What else could she do? Life was hard.

  One day Charlotte came home from a visit to Estelle with her eyes wide. “Mama, Danicci came home while I was there, and he got mad because his dinner wasn’t ready. He had a bag of rolls, and he threw them at Estelle as hard as he could. He hit her right in the stomach!”

  Lola threw down the dish towel she had in her hand and ran out the door. She could barely see from her anger. She rushed in the door of Estelle and Leonard’s little apartment and marched up to confront a surprised Danicci.

  “You listen to me,” she said, shaking her finger in his face. “If you ever hurt my daughter or my grandchild you put in her belly, you’d better learn to sleep with your eyes open because I’ll come after you and slit your throat like a pig. Understand?” She turned and left, leaving Estelle and her husband staring after her.

  When she reached her own home, her knees felt weak and her hands were shaking. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. She had threatened a man’s life—and worse, she had meant every word.

  ~ ~ ~

  A new family moved in next door, and the people were friendly. It was a relief for Lola to know that there was someone other than old Mrs. Snyder for Charlotte to turn to in case of emergency. The garage where Tom parked his car during the day was right across the street from the millinery shop where Lola worked. He offered to drive Lola to and from
work each day. At first Lola declined but he insisted. It would save her at least an hour a day. Saving bus fare and an hour a day was just too good to refuse. The grocery bill was smaller without a teenage boy in the house, and between extra grocery money and the saved bus fare, she actually began to save for a car of their own.

  One gloomy day Tom pulled into the driveway next door and Lola sat in the car, letting him finish a joke he had heard at work. They were both laughing when they got out of the car. Still laughing to herself, Lola crossed the distance between their drive and her own house, entering through the kitchen door.

  “Wulf, you’re home!” She ran to him with her arms outstretched. She stumbled when he stepped back before she reached him.

  “How could you?” His face twisted in an expression of disgust.

  “How could I what?”

  “How could you come to me seconds after leaving the arms of your lover?”

  “My lover?” She looked at him in disbelief. “You mean our new neighbor, Tom? He works near the millinery shop. It saves me bus fare, not to mention the walk to and from the bus in bad weather. He drives that way and is nice enough to let me ride with him. That’s all there is.” Lola was getting more and more upset with every sentence.

  “I saw you laughing together, and you came in looking like a woman who’d just—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” said Lola, drowning out his words. “He told me a funny joke. You tell jokes; everyone tells jokes. Jokes make you laugh.”

  “You must’ve had a big laugh over me. I’m the joke.” He grabbed her shoulders, digging his fingers into her flesh. “Every time I confront you with something I let you talk me out of it. One excuse after another after another for years. Only an idiot like me would believe your ridiculous stories.”

  “Herman, please.”

  “You’re a cheat and a liar. I should’ve seen it years ago, but I was blinded by love. Now I understand. You’re just a cheap, lying whore.” He punctuated each syllable by shaking her until her head snapped back and forth and her teeth rattled. “I should beat the crap out of you.” He shoved her violently away from him. “Whore.”

  Lola’s anger erupted like a volcano. She needed to lash out and retaliate. She had to do something—anything to make the hurtful words stop spewing from his mouth. She felt something under her hand and she threw it with all of her strength. The missile flew across the room and Wulf ducked.

  The knife stopped, deeply embedded in the wall, with its hilt quivering from the impact.

  Lola’s anger turned to terror. For a fraction of a heartbeat she saw Wulf with that knife protruding from his chest. She screamed and her lungs could not refill. She grasped the edge of the sink to remain standing.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! What have I done?” She ran from the room, leaving Wulf frozen in place. She ran to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before vomiting with violent painful spasms. Before long her entire body was trembling. She collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face, without the strength to rise again.

  “Mama.”

  Lola heard Charlotte’s frightened voice from the other side of the door. Had she been sitting there for seconds? Minutes? Hours? She stirred, trying to move. Her children needed her. Her children needed her? Did they? She’d become a monster, willing to slit a man’s throat for throwing buns at her daughter, or throw a knife at her own husband if provoked. No, her children didn’t need a mother like that. Her stomach lurched again.

  “Mama,” Charlotte spoke again, “Pop Wulf said you needed my help. Are you sick? Can I come in?”

  Her children mustn’t see her like this. She struggled to stand and wobbled to the sink. “Wait,” she croaked; her throat was raw from retching. She rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.

  “Thank you, Charlotte.” She hugged her daughter and walked slowly to the living room, leaning on the girl’s shoulder.

  “I fed Nellie and Harry and told them to stay in their beds and read until they got sleepy.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte,” Lola said again. “Could you get me a cup of tea?” Lola sat, drained of emotion, drained of energy, feeling drained of life itself. She stared unseeing into space, shutting out the horrors of the world.

  The touch of Charlotte’s hand on her arm roused her. “Pop Wulf said to tell you he was sorry. He said he understood, and he was to blame, and he was sorry. Those were the exact words he told me to tell you. He took his ditty bag and said he’d stay on the ship because they might sail tomorrow or the next day.” The girl hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave her mother alone.

  “I’m better now. Thank you for the tea. Go to bed.” Lola sat alone in the dark and thought about Wulf. She remembered how he used to pick her up and twirl her around in joy every time he came ashore. Tears rolled down her face as she finally admitted that her husband was not the same man she married. She had been fooling herself, hoping that when he came home the next time and saw his family waiting for him, he would once again feel the joy that brought laughter and happiness to the entire house. His year in solitary confinement had broken him. She should have seen it years ago. Something had eaten the joy out of his soul and was still eating at him. That was why he kept getting angrier and more violent—it was a sickness of the soul. Wulf—her Wulf—had died during that time and she was powerless to bring him back.

  She took a sip of the now lukewarm tea. Then her cup rattled on the saucer as it slipped out of her fingers. She wasn’t the same Lola, either. Yesterday she’d have sworn by everything she held holy that she’d rather die than hurt one of her family, yet today she’d nearly killed her husband. Who knew what she might do tomorrow? She shivered as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her. How many times had he promised never to doubt her again? And each time it was more violent than the last. But it wasn’t only Wulf’s suspicions and temper—she could no longer control her own temper. Every time she thought of how close she’d come to killing him, her stomach got queasy. She forced herself to calm down and think.

  She sat in the dark for hours going through every line of thought she could imagine and following each one through to its logical consequences. At last she settled on a plan. It would be the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life—but she had no choice. Rising from her chair, she went to the bedroom where Harry was sleeping. Staggering under the weight of the healthy four-year-old, Lola went to her own bed and lay down, holding the warm body close and inhaling the smell of his hair. Plans swirled in her head even as her tears flowed and the pillow soaked them up into a soggy pool of stuffing.

  The next morning Lola fed her children and went to work as though nothing unusual had happened, but something had died in her soul. Her decision hurt beyond anything she could have imagined, but she had to stop taking the easiest way to get through each day. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She’d been making decisions like a child, solving problems as they arose. Now she had to start acting like an adult, planning for the long term—even if it meant short term sacrifices.

  It took her two days to finalize her plans and make a list of things to do. The first item on her list was something she should have done years ago—get control of her own money so she didn’t have to beg for every dollar. She sent a telegram to Charlie for regular amounts of money, and followed it with a letter saying she was preparing to take legal action. While she waited, she would find a lawyer to confront Charlie once and for all. What did it matter now if she alienated her sister? It wasn’t as though she and Juana were ever close.

  This time she didn’t put all her eggs in the Charlie basket. She also sent a telegram to Enriqueta, followed by a letter asking for a loan. She wrote another to her father asking him to use any influence he might have to persuade Juana’s husband to give her back her stocks. If she knew Enriqueta, the jewels their father gave her would still be intact against future need.

  Days passed and Charlie didn’t
answer her telegram. The lawyer charged her a fee to tell her she had no recourse once she signed over the stocks to her brother-in-law.

  Her hand shook as she tore open the letter from Enriqueta.

  Dearest Lola,

  I know you must be desperate since you sent a telegram. I weep as I write because I cannot help you.

  Remember when we were girls, and I spent all our money on a second sewing machine? Well, I’ve done something similar. We aren’t lining our shoes with paper and felt, but things are pretty tight. Tia Francisca recently joined her husband in Heaven, and I purchased the building from her son. As you can imagine, it needed a lot of remodeling. The first floor is now a boutique for better ladies’ wear, Concha and I live on the second floor, and we use the third floor as a workroom. Blanca is attending a private finishing school where she is getting into a suitable social situation.

  Sadly, Papa is no longer able to run the plantation. He never recovered his full strength after his brush with death, and I think he had a small stroke about a year ago. Victoria has moved to the main house, leaving her house to Ricardo and his wife.

  I wish I had better news. I don’t know what to advise you to do.

  Your loving sister, Enriqueta

  It was only at night, after the children were asleep, that Lola surrendered to her feelings of loss and hopelessness. She knew her father would never get her letter. She’d been so sure Enriqueta would help her, but now it seemed she was out of options. The next morning Lola dragged herself out of bed, got the girls off to school, took Harry to Mrs. Snyder, and went to work. She forced herself to smile at customers.

  Lola began to feel desperate. Wulf would be home soon, and still no word from Charlie. Two days later, she decided she could delay no longer. She sent Charlotte to tell Tom she would not be riding to work with him. She said her sister had suddenly taken ill and needed Lola to come and stay with her. Would he please stop in the millinery shop and tell them she would be back to work tomorrow? She went to Mrs. Snyder and told her the same thing. She packed a bag for each child and one for herself and they all trooped down to the bus stop.