It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  With Harry in her lap and an arm around each of her girls, Lola bade a silent farewell to Guttenberg Street from the bus window.

  “We aren’t going to your sister’s house, are we?” said Charlotte as they rode.

  “No. I’m taking you all to a new school that’s much better than your old one.”

  Together they mounted the wide steps of the big brick building. Lola told the children to wait on the bench in the hallway. Fighting tears she walked into the Mother Superior’s office.

  The nun behind the desk looked kind. Her face was lined and a wisp of white hair escaped her wimple. Lola almost envied her the years of service spent in the Lord’s work—almost. She had served her husbands and her children well through the years. But what did that amount to if she failed them in the end?

  Slowly and tearfully, but coherently, Lola told the nun that she was now unable to care for her children. She told her how good the children were, and how much they loved school; she told her how much she loved them; she told her how hard it was to part with her babies. In short, she told her everything she could think of that might convince her that the children were worthy of care. The nun listened patiently.

  “Will you take them?” Lola asked fearfully when she had finished her speech.

  “I’m puzzled,” said the nun. “You sound like a loving mother, yet you’re willing to abandon your children.”

  “Oh, no, Sister. I’m not abandoning them. I just can’t afford to keep them now. My employment does not earn enough for me to provide them with food and decent shelter.”

  “Do you expect this to change? If not, you are deluding yourself that you aren’t abandoning them.”

  “I have inherited resources worth a great deal of money. Unfortunately, the inheritance is in South America with my brother-in-law, but I intend to hire an attorney to help me. Once I have these resources in addition to my salary, I’ll be able to support them properly. I don’t know how long it may take, but I am certain there will be more than enough to provide a decent home.”

  “For your sake, I hope you succeed. Now tell me the reason you brought them here today,” said the nun gently. “Your children don’t look hungry. Are you less able to provide for them today than you were yesterday?”

  Lola nodded, no longer able to hold back her sobs. Bit by bit the story came out in disconnected phrases in jumbled chronology. Lola’s fear of not being able to control her anger and violence made her body tremble again.

  “Sister, I swear before the Blessed Virgin that I’ve never cheated on my husband. I’ve never even had a carnal thought about another man. His anger and violence gets worse all the time. Either he will kill me in his anger, or I’ll kill him trying to defend myself. Either way, my children will be orphaned as a result. I need to get my children out of this toxic environment of insane jealousy and hair-trigger violent tempers. If I stay with my husband something terrible will happen, and we may both lose our immortal souls. Yet if I leave him, I cannot feed my children. This is the only choice I can make for my children.” Although Lola was afraid of possibly venting her anger on the children, she did not mention it to the nun.

  “Very well, we’ll take your children. I can see you are tortured by your decision. May I suggest that you spend time each day in prayer and meditation?” Lola nodded.

  “I’ll call Sister Agnes to show them to their rooms. You may visit them after Mass on Sundays. When you’re able, you may take them for day trips or weekends. You may take them home when you’re able.”

  Lola went into the hallway to spend a final few minutes with her children before they were collected by Sister Agnes. Nellie was standing by a window, watching children playing in the schoolyard. She sent Harry to see what his sister was watching, and sat beside Charlotte. She explained that the school was a boarding school and they would live with other children.

  “I don’t want to live with other children. I want to stay with you.”

  “And I want you all to stay with me. You’re old enough to understand that Pop Wulf and I haven’t been getting along very well. I’m afraid something bad might happen if we stay together. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I have to leave him.”

  “Why can’t we all leave together?”

  “As soon as I get enough money to find a place, I promise we’ll be together. I promise. Now let me say good-bye to Nellie and Harry.” She kissed Charlotte on the forehead and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Be brave for them.”

  Lola walked to the window and put her arms around her youngest children. She told them they would be living at the school so they could play with the other children every day. Nellie was excited about having other girls to play with. Harry just looked at his mother. “You can write letters to me, and I’ll write back. Won’t that be fun?”

  “I’m not a good speller,” said Nellie.

  “That’s okay. I’ll know what you mean.”

  “I can’t write,” said Harry.

  “You can draw pictures for me. I’ll draw pictures for you, too. I’ll send you funny pictures.”

  She gave them one last kiss as Sister Agnes appeared. Blinded by tears, Lola made her way down the street.

  Sundays became the focus of Lola’s life. The few hours she could spend with her children kept her sane in her loneliness. She took a room at the YWCA and walked an hour each day to and from work to save the bus fare. She hoarded money as she had never hoarded money before, barely eating enough to stay alive. She wrote long impassioned letters to Juana begging her to speak to her husband.

  Every day she thanked God that her children were healthy, and she prayed for them to have a brighter future. Every evening she came home to the empty room and mourned Wulf. She had trouble sleeping, and when she did sleep she dreamed of Wulf. Her good dreams were of the jaunty young first mate that had worked his way into her heart during the long, perilous journey from Chile to Peru. More often she had dreams of the thinner man with graying temples whose eyes burned with the effects of a soul broken by his imprisonment.

  One day her employer, Beverly Ashton, asked if she was ill. That was the first touch of human kindness she had seen in months, and it opened the floodgates of her misery. She poured out the story of the stocks she had inherited and that her money had run out, and now she was unable to provide for her children.

  “Why don’t you go to a lawyer?” asked Mrs. Ashton.

  “I did,” said Lola, trying to stem the flood of tears. “He said that once I signed over the stocks to my sister’s husband, they belonged to him.”

  “It sounds like you need another lawyer.”

  Lola felt a stab of hope. Was it possible? “But isn’t the law the law? How can two lawyers have different answers?”

  “Isn’t a hat a hat? How can one woman wear it well and another look ridiculous in the same hat?” She got a paper and wrote an address on it. “Here, take the afternoon off and go see this man. He’s a friend of my father, and he’s semi-retired. He keeps his office open for something to do and only takes cases that interest him.”

  The lawyer’s office was part of his house with a separate entrance. He listened to her story and asked a few questions. His wife brought them coffee, and as they spoke, Lola felt that she had finally found someone to trust.

  “There’s no question that he knows the stocks are yours. Letters listing the stocks are ample proof of that. Why hasn’t he sent you anything? Do you suspect him of stealing them for himself? Is this a criminal charge?”

  “No, I don’t think so. When I wanted the money to travel here, he insisted the stocks were rising too rapidly to sell. He loaned me the money from his personal funds.”

  “Then we’ll try to be discreet. If your sister and her husband were here, it would be a simple matter. The problem is the international aspect. Your attorney would have to work with an attorney in South America, which raises costs considerably. Even communication will be costly and time consuming. Even if I waive my fee, it will take at
least five hundred dollars to handle this case. Do you have that much?”

  “Five hundred? I could get a car for that much.”

  “Yes, but not a good one—and certainly not an imported one. Remember you must work through a lawyer in Peru.” He refilled her cup. “I’ll write a letter to his business address. Sometimes a letter from an attorney is enough to get the desired result. Come back every couple of weeks. Even if we don’t have an answer, we can visit.”

  Lola went home with a renewed sense of purpose. She haunted the bulletin board at the YWCA, looking for part-time work. Most notices were for typists or domestic help, but she finally saw one that suited her—waitressing at a place called Johnny’s. She went to apply for the job right after the hat shop closed the next day, praying that she wasn’t too late.

  She spoke to a waitress and was told the job was already filled. Lola turned to leave, her heart heavy with disappointment.

  “Hey!”

  “The boss,” whispered the waitress, with a small gesture indicating which man had spoken. Lola turned toward the man.

  “You lookin’ for a job?” Lola nodded. The man looked her up and down in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. “You always dress this snazzy?”

  “Yes,” Lola glanced down at her light brown suit, noting that the pleats were still perfectly pressed into the wool. Today she had attached a dark green collar and cuffs to the long straight jacket. The narrow collar framed the ecru lace jabot and matched the hat she’d bought with the first paycheck from the hat shop. What was it Estelle had said when she’d made this suit? Either the bee’s knees or the elephant’s eyebrows. Lola had trouble keeping up with the new slang. “I design hats and my customers must trust my sense of fashion.”

  “Yeah? Maybe it’s time for this joint to get a little class. You wanna be a hostess?”

  “I’m not familiar with the duties of a hostess.”

  “You talk swell, too, and the accent’s kind of cute.” Johnny laughed and briefly described the duties of a hostess. It sounded simple enough, and it was. Her savings began to grow slowly. After a few weeks, Johnny asked if she’d like to work after the dinner hour.

  “I thought you only served sandwiches and dessert after nine.”

  “Yeah, but I got a back room for special customers. You’re a class act up here, so I figure you’ll be a class act there, too. The pay’s a lot better.” At nine Johnny led her through the kitchen to the back room. The air was already cloudy with smoke, and Lola smelled the sharp odor of alcohol.

  “It’s a speakeasy,” she said without thinking.

  “What’d you expect? A sewing club?” Lola didn’t know what she’d expected, maybe a fancy private dining room. Johnny pointed. “The customers come in through that door. You find them a table, just like out front. Then you leave the young bloods for the girls. See that guy over there?” He pointed to a well-dressed man sitting stiffly on his chair. “Guys like that’re trying it out; they’re not comfortable. You just gotta sit and have a drink with ‘em. You dress classier than the girls. It shows ’em it’s all right for guys with class to come here, too.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t waste booze on the help. You get tea, and a cut of what they pay for the drink.”

  Lola swallowed even though her mouth was dry. She remembered the role that alcohol played in a bordello. “What if he...misunderstands what I do?”

  Johnny pointed again. “See that guy? He’s Vinnie. Anybody gives you trouble, just get Vinnie. Okay?” Lola wanted to say no and run home, but Johnny had already moved away. She’d work tonight and tell him tomorrow that she couldn’t keep it up.

  It was after two when they closed the doors. Johnny offered her a ride home. Lola opened her mouth to refuse when one of the waitresses came up and put her arm around Johnny’s waist. “Come on, Lola. You don’t want to be on the streets at this time, and it’ll be an excuse for me to sit closer to Johnny.” She winked. Lola gratefully accepted.

  The next morning came all too soon. As Lola dragged herself out of bed and got ready for work, she tried to decide how to tell Johnny she couldn’t work in an illegal establishment. Then she looked at the extra five dollars in her purse—and that was just tips. She could save the five hundred in no time if she kept the job. Illegal or not, it was the only way she could see to reach her goal.

  Lola often caught Johnny watching her. Lola told Mrs. Ashton that she didn’t need lunch and arranged to come in an hour later. Even so, the pace was exhausting, but she had the money faster than she dreamed possible. In a very few months, secure in the knowledge that she had the money for the lawyer, she told the people at work that she was looking for a small inexpensive place to live. When Johnny asked if she was ready to go home that evening, he was alone.

  “Where’s Gina?”

  “She moved back to Oakland to take care of her sick mother.”

  Lola hesitated. “Maybe I’ll just walk tonight.”

  “Hey, Lola.” Johnny held out his empty hands, palm up. “Don’t I always treat you like a lady? It’s not safe out there.” As he drove, he asked her why she wanted to move.

  “My children are in boarding school and I want a place to bring them.”

  “You got kids?”

  “I have three in boarding school. I miss them terribly.”

  “I got a nice apartment in the building I could let you have. It’s big. Three bedrooms and a maid’s room off the kitchen. You’d love it.”

  “I can’t afford anything like that. I was thinking more of a studio apartment with a shared bath.” Lola laughed at the idea of such a big place.

  “Listen, Lola, I gotta be straight with you. You caught my eye the first day you walked into the restaurant. There comes a time when a man has to think about settling down, and you’re the kind of girl a man can take home to meet his mother. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I believe I do know what you mean. You want me to be your new girlfriend and you’re using my children as...as a way to make it happen.” She realized they had stopped in front of the YWCA. She grabbed the handle to open the door, but Johnny pulled her back. Fear and anger battled for first place in her emotions.

  “No, that’s not what I mean. Listen to me. I’m asking you to marry me. You can bring your kids home and we can get a maid to do all the work. You can quit your other job and do whatever you like during the day. I’ll buy you anything you want.”

  Fear and anger melted away in a vision of what this could mean. She spent a full minute imagining the life. She’d married without love once before, and it wasn’t so bad. Regretfully, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t or you don’t want to?”

  “I can’t. I’m still married.”

  “That’s not a problem. I have a good lawyer; you can get a divorce. In the meantime, I’ll be Uncle Johnny and give the kids time to get used to me. Then we can get married.”

  “I couldn’t do that. I’m Catholic.” To Lola’s surprise, Johnny laughed a deep satisfying laugh, unlike the braying laugh she sometimes heard in the restaurant.

  “Grow up, Lola. You work in a speakeasy. You break the law for a living—and you’re worried about a divorce?”

  That startled Lola. She’d stopped thinking about the speakeasy as illegal. It was just the place where she worked. She promised to think about his offer and got out of the car before he had a chance to say more. She ran to her room and collapsed in tears. Her entire world was turning upside down. What had happened to her? She had turned into the kind of person she always detested—someone who would do anything for money. There was no denying what Johnny was. He was a gangster. If she accepted his offer, she’d be his moll. What kind of life was that for children?

  Maybe she was just being melodramatic. The children would never see anything other than the nice restaurant. She could buy them things they’d never had. She would get a good night’s sleep and never have to worry about laundry or cleaning. I
t’s not as though they were selling their customers cheap moonshine. Johnny sold good whiskey smuggled in from Canada. She pulled the covers up under her chin and fell asleep.

  That night for the first time since she started working the back room she dreamed of Wulf. He walked into her room and said, “Do what you have to do for the children.” She woke up feeling refreshed and ready for anything. Her problems were solved. She’d accept Johnny’s proposal tonight and bring her children home. If there was one thing Lola knew, it was how to be a good wife. Johnny would never regret his offer. She found herself humming while she worked, and smiled constantly.

  “You’re certainly chipper this morning,” said Mrs. Ashton. “Did the lawyer get results?”

  “Not yet, but he’s working on it. The reason I’m happy is that I have an offer of marriage.” Lola just couldn’t keep the news to herself.

  “I’m so happy for you.” Mrs. Ashton actually gave her a hug. Then she laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, it’s not you, dear. I was just thinking that if I ever thought of getting married again, Mr. Ashton would rise from his grave to stop the wedding.” She smiled at Lola. “He was always so jealous and protective of me. It was rather nice having a protector.” Before Lola could comment, a customer arrived and claimed her attention.

  Lola shook her head. Mrs. Ashton had no idea what real jealousy was like. Wulf would... She grabbed the edge of the workbench to steady herself as she completed her thought. Wulf would go into an insane rage and probably kill her if he saw her having a drink with a man—let alone making money that way. Did she really believe Wulf came to her in a dream? That dream was her own wishful thinking. Wulf would never have consented to what she was doing. What was she doing? She was about to go against everything she believed in to be with her children—or was she really doing this for the children? Lola felt sick. Suddenly she didn’t trust her own logic any more. She didn’t know what to believe. Was she just so tired of working so hard that she was willing to do anything to have it stop? Yes, if she accepted Johnny’s proposal, she’d be with the children—until there was a raid and both she and Johnny were dragged off to jail. What would happen to the children then?