by Jenna Rae
Cookee cocked an eyebrow and gave Lin a speculative look. Lola was completely lost. She had no idea what Lin had said or why it was the right thing, but it clearly was. Soon, Lin and Cookee were chattering away about designers whose names Lola had never heard and stores she’d never seen, and they used at least five different names for purses, none of which was purse or bag. Outside, the mist seemed to have cleared a bit, but Lin was obviously having a good time, and Lola wasn’t especially anxious to get back to Del’s house.
Not home. I didn’t call it “home,” but “Del’s house.” She frowned.
“Something neutral or a bold splash of color?” Cookee ran her manicured fingernail down the strap of a fuchsia clutch with giant green sparkles on it. She seemed to want some kind of response.
Lola suppressed a shudder.
“Neutral,” she answered in a firm tone, and Cookee and Lin shared a laugh. They started grabbing one purse after another, debating the merits of each. Lola wandered away and tried to imagine carrying any of the bags she passed, but they seemed both showy and impractical. She peeked at a price tag hidden deep inside a particularly gaudy tote and saw four digits before the decimal. She carefully backed away from the animal-print bag and sighed.
Overwhelmed, she was headed back toward Lin when her arm brushed something soft. Lola turned to see what seemed like a normal-looking purse with a few pockets for keys and phone and the like. She tried it on, feeling the smooth leather against her arm. She saw herself in the mirror and smiled. The purse was both practical and beautiful. She eyed the tag and closed her eyes. Wasn’t that an awful lot of money? The price was lower than most she’d seen but higher than she’d have liked, but she held her breath.
I have a credit card. I’ve never even used it. I could use it now and buy this purse, and it would be my purse and not the one Orrin gave me.
I’ll use it every day, she told herself. I’ll use it until I die. It’s the only purse I’ll ever need. I’ll take good care of it. She looked in the mirror again, and she thought maybe she looked a little less like an outcast and a little more like a person. You have to start somewhere, she told herself.
“This is the one I want,” she murmured.
Lin turned and grinned.
“Good choice,” said Cookee. “A little safe, maybe, but versatile, classic. Nice.”
“It’s lovely,” Lin crooned, and Lola nodded and returned the smile with real feeling. She would never have come in this store in a million years if Lin hadn’t dragged her in.
“I’d like to use it right away.” She started pulling out her wallet and things and laying them on the counter. “I can’t stand the old one another minute.”
Cookee used a wooden hanger to scrape Lola’s old purse off the counter and directly into the trash, and Lola felt better when she couldn’t see it anymore.
“Good riddance,” Lin muttered, grimacing.
Lola started to feel more emotional about the whole thing than a mere handbag seemed to warrant. She tried to explain it to Lin as they strolled to the coffee shop. She faltered to a stop after a few minutes of what sounded even to her like incoherent rambling.
“Your purse defines you,” Lin said, shrugging. “It tells people who you are.” She said it as though it was an obvious truth and Lola grinned.
“Exactly,” she agreed. “I don’t know how Del lives without one. Or Tess for that matter.”
Lin smiled. “You know how they are. Purses are for femmes.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t let Del get in the habit of making you carry her stuff. I end up carrying all of Tess’s junk wherever we go.”
“Lin?” Lola looked away. “I’m not sure Del would understand why I spent so much on this. It’s my own money but maybe she’d think it was stupid.”
She’s mad at me all the time. I don’t want to give her another excuse to be mad at me. I’m a stupid, weak baby who can’t handle it when someone’s mad at her.
“Oh, honey, I get it.” Lin smiled and hugged her. “It’ll be just between us.”
By the time they got home it was late evening, and Lola was relaxed and refreshed. She tried to thank Lin, who shook off her words.
“You’re a sweetheart and I like you. Besides that, you’re important to Del and she’s important to me. To both of us.”
Del was dozing on the couch when they returned, and Lin pulled Lola into the kitchen.
“Go to bed,” she whispered. “Tess’ll give her whatever she needs and get her up the stairs. You need to catch up on your sleep.”
Lola’s eyes welled up. “Thank you,” was all she could say. She didn’t even argue. She just tiptoed up the stairs and went to sleep, too tired to do anything else.
Chapter Fifteen
I have been dreaming about the angels. Watching my soul sisters transform from lost girls as they disappear into the dark water leaves the rest to my imagination. Are they at all the same after baptism? In my dreams, they are again pure, untouched by sin and pain and shame. They are only the seeds of their best selves, the kernels of soul stripped of the secular and the gross. They are happy and laughing and joyful. I wake with a smile on my lips and lightness in my heart that sustains me through the darkness.
It is faith alone that carries me, and I battle to sustain it. What if I am wrong? What if I am not God’s messenger or servant or vessel but instead a misguided tool of Satan? It is possible that I am deluding myself. It wouldn’t be the first time. I have always understood that. But my mission has brought me such joy that it can’t be a lie. It just can’t. The alternative is too nightmarish too consider. Still, it returns to my shattered mind. I am low on red pills. My friend has been distracted, distant. She is impatient with me and wants me to act more quickly than is prudent.
“Expedience is the realm of the uninspired,” I tell her and she is surprised by my vehemence. “My mission is sacred and I will not be rushed.”
She has agreed to bring me more red pills, which is good. I now need to take three every day in order to maintain clarity, and I am actually able to sleep sometimes now. It’s a strange thing to wake in the morning and realize that it’s been hours since I was last awake. The red pills bring not only the peace of truth but the peace of rest as well.
As I prepare I am filled with doubt in a way I have never before experienced. I am in the desert, assailed by uncertainty and lonelier than I have ever been. I will fast and meditate and do penance until I am again steadfast in my convictions. I am the servant of good. I am true goodness made manifest in this foul and soulless world, and I am here to do right. I will prevail. Good will prevail, regardless of the cost to me, to anyone.
Tears cool my fevered cheeks as I lie on the rocky shore listening to the surf and wind. I shake, unnerved by the flashes of feeling that push through the doubt and invigorate me. I believe I have met the lost girl who is the one true angel. I am more and more sure she is the one, though there is no reason. She just is. I see her soul shining out of her despite everything and it calls out to me. I must save her, she who does not even know she is the one and will not unless I show her.
“I’m coming,” I whisper. The wind carries my words away and I can almost see them flying toward the one I’ve sought my whole life. I must redeem her soul that she may save us all.
Chapter Sixteen
Del snapped off the radio with a loud sigh and watched Lola avert her eyes. Somehow, there weren’t any stations playing anything she wanted to hear. It was all annoying. The music now was hardly music at all, just repetitive, unimaginative blaring and thumping. There was no feeling in it. Del rolled her neck gingerly. Every part of her body was sore and tired and sick of sitting still and too weak to do anything else. She’d never been incapacitated before and it was making her irritable with herself and everything else.
Lola got quieter and more careful and more tentative every day. She wouldn’t snap back at Del, wouldn’t call her on her bad behavior, wouldn’t tell her to fuck off. Things would be so much ea
sier if she would just get pissed. Then they could have a big, loud fight and make up with wild sex. That was how things would have gone if Lola were Janet.
Would Janet stick around to take care of Del if she needed it? Del shook her head. Probably not. Not like this. For a day or so maybe. But then the tedium of laundry and cooking and dishes and picking up medicine, all of that would get to Janet and she’d pick a fight with Del so she could storm out.
Was that fair? Maybe not. Maybe Janet would do whatever Del needed her to do. Maybe she would break her back trying to keep Del happy even when it was impossible. Lola was certainly more than willing to drive herself into the ground.
How had they gotten to this? Del couldn’t believe they were playing this stupid, destructive game. She was nearly recovered, for the most part. Her visible wounds had healed quickly, once the infection cleared up. But sometimes her shoulder hurt. The bullet had just grazed her upper arm, hadn’t done any real damage.
She should be a hundred percent by now, she figured, but every once in a while her whole shoulder felt like it was about to pop off. Not often enough to worry about but often enough to be annoying. It was stress, she decided, and she lied, told the doctor she wasn’t in any significant pain. No sense making a big stink about it. As it was, they were pestering her to go to physical therapy.
“Forget it,” she croaked when Lola offered to make the appointment. “I’ll do it myself.”
But she didn’t. What would they do at physical therapy? Tell her to lift weights and stretch, something like that, and she didn’t feel like doing either. She was worn out and starting to wonder if she would ever feel like herself again.
“I actually feel worse than after Janet—”
She looked up at the ceiling. Lola couldn’t hear her, right?
“So who am I talking to?”
Her phone buzzed as she headed into the kitchen to grab a beer, and she read the text:
Baby, I’m SO worried! SO sorry you got hurt. Plz txt me! Del eased onto the couch, beer in one hand and phone in the other. Janet had been texting every day. At first, Del had been annoyed. She certainly hadn’t responded.
But it might not be such a bad thing to bury the hatchet. After all, somebody had actually taken a shot at Janet’s place.
“She wouldn’t have hired someone to shoot at herself. Or at me.” Del waggled her head. “She did care about me in her own way. Still does, I guess.”
“Did you need something?” Lola was at the top of the stairs. She didn’t look enthused about coming down.
“No, thanks.” Del tried to smile. It must’ve seemed more like she was baring her teeth, if the look on Lola’s face was any indication.
Lola nodded and melted into the darkness of the upper landing. Del had just dropped her gaze back down to Janet’s text when she heard Lola’s voice.
“Why are you really mad at me?”
Del looked up. Lola was standing there, arms crossed, her face a locked vault.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Is it because of sex?”
“What?”
“Because I’m bad at it?”
“No—what?”
“You want Janet instead of me because she’s sexier, right?”
“Lola.” Del looked straight at her for the first time. “I want you. I always have. But you don’t want me, not really.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re scared of me! You act like I’m trying to hurt you or something. I’m not a monster. I’m not a rapist. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve been pretty patient, you know? But you still act like I’m attacking you. How am I supposed to feel about that? How am I supposed to keep wanting you?”
Lola nodded, her face blank. She looked like someone who’s finally gotten the cancer diagnosis she’d been expecting, and Del wished she could take back her words.
“I didn’t really mean that,” she said lamely. “I’m just in a lousy mood like always lately. I’m sorry.”
“No.” Lola’s voice was barely audible. “The truth is best. And you’re right. You have been patient. I’m sorry. For everything.”
She again faded into the darkness of the upper hallway. Del knew she should go after Lola, but what could she say? That her words had been a lie? They hadn’t. She remembered the way Janet had run at her, rubbed against her, begged for her touch. She remembered the last time she and Lola had tried to make love.
“If you can call it that,” she muttered aloud. Lola in some kind of fugue state while Del examined the scars that covered her body? That was not an attempt at making love. It was something darker, angrier, emptier. Del hugged her middle.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
She rubbed her face with her hands and peered through her fingers.
“Oh, and I cheated. Can’t forget that, can I? I used Janet too.”
She let her hands drop. A scared, emotionally overwrought victim came to her for help. Regardless of their history, she had no right to take advantage of Janet.
“I should get Phan to work her.”
It was a good plan. She knew that, knew she should follow it, but she texted Janet back, anyway:
I’m ok. U safe?
The response was immediate. Janet again declared her love and apologized for putting Del in danger. She reassured Del that she was safe, thanked her for caring, expressed her regret over causing so much trouble and asserted that she’d only gotten snippy with Del because she was jealous of Lisa.
Del didn’t bother to correct her. She was too busy texting her back. It was over an hour later that Del noticed that her phone was almost out of battery and signed off. She trooped upstairs, passing Lola—on the computer in the second bedroom as usual—without a word and lay down, smiling at a joke Janet had made in one of her last texts. I forgot how funny she is, Del thought, as she drifted off.
It was only the next day that she realized that she’d lost her marbles and needed to get back to living in the world of sanity. When her phone next did its shaking dance across the nightstand, Del checked to make sure of the texter’s identity and put it back down. No more nonsense, she vowed to herself. She looked over at Lola’s side of the bed and saw that, once again, Lola had stayed up all night to write.
“Or,” she wondered aloud, “was it to avoid me?” She plucked at the corner of Lola’s pillow.
“I used to think it was weird, the way you’re always talking to yourself.” She laughed. “Now I’m doing it.”
It was probably from being home alone so much. From the time she was a teenager, Del had worked, often two jobs. Sitting around doing nothing was not only boring but also depressing. It was time to get back to being a productive human being again. Del stretched, careful not to wrench her left arm.
She went downstairs to find coffee made, muffins cooling on a rack and the newly wrinkle-free and refolded load of laundry on the dining room table. Lola had even folded things the way Del had, with the shirts in thirds instead of halves, the pants rolled.
“So I wouldn’t yell at her for redoing it after I fucked it up. Because I’m such an asshole.” She shook her head. All she could see was Lola in their bed that night, her face a map of tears, her body limp and empty and resigned.
“Lola?”
But Del was alone.
The kitchen smelled homey, like coffee and cinnamon and vanilla. Del got coffee and a moist, sweet muffin, sat at the kitchen table and couldn’t choke down a bite.
Where was Lola? She was probably out at the grocery store or the dry cleaners or something. Doing something useful. Doing something for Del. Or trying to stay out of her way.
Del curled her arms into a nest on the table, ignoring the pull in her left shoulder, and rested her heavy head, wondering if she’d come to her senses just a few hours too late. What if Lola was gone for good?
She decided to behave as though the last several days had never happened. By the time Lola came back from the pharmacy with Del’s last round of refills, De
l was dressed and sorting the mail. She ignored the way Lola eyed her with caution, ignored the way Lola tried to take the temperature of the room before she asked the formulaic question.
“How are you?”
Del forced a grin, crinkling her eyes. “Great. Thanks for baking.”
Lola froze, clearly looking for the hidden barb. “You’re welcome.”
Del ignored the pang that followed Lola’s wariness. “I called in, and I can go back to work as soon as the doc clears me.”
Lola nodded. “Okay.”
“So I’m going in Monday, and I should be able to go back to work Tuesday.”
“What time’s your appointment?”
“Nine.”
“What time do you want to leave here?”
“I’ll take the bike.”
“Is that—” She stopped.
Del kept her face blank, but it didn’t make a difference. She saw Lola reconsider second-guessing Del’s choice.
“Okay.” And she nodded in that new, efficient way she’d developed. Like a servant showing deference to her overbearing master, a nurse reassuring a touchy patient, a parent placating a recalcitrant child.
Del faked a small smile. It hurt, seeing that nod. How much did it hurt Lola to feel she had to act like that? And how long would it take before she knew she could relax and be herself again?
“I didn’t mean what I said,” Del offered. “You know, before.”
“You had every right to feel that way.” Lola wouldn’t look at her directly. “It’s okay. I’ve made you feel bad, and I didn’t mean to do that. I am truly sorry.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” Del insisted.
“Yes, it is.” Lola started backing away. “I’m sorry. I’m trying but it’s not working. You deserve better. Besides, how could someone like me ever compete with someone like Janet?”
Del only hesitated a second, but it was enough. By the time she formed the right reassuring response, Lola was gone from the room.