The Misfortunes of Lolita

08 | when lolita healed

THIS IS AN UNEDITED AND SIGNIFICANTLY DIFFERENT VERSION OF THE MISFORTUNES OF LOLITA. I AM PUBLISHING IT IN FALL 2021—PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON IG @/ls.akhter and GOODREADS (L AKHTER) TO STAY UPDATED. I am so excited to share TMoL with you again.

CHAPTER 8

"He tells me that I should write about him. I've never felt like this before. Like there was sunshine trapped inside me. What is this feeling called?" ­- Lolita's writing journal.

When Frank's mother came after speaking with the doctor about his father, she found Frank and Lolita on the bench.

After Lolita had leaned her head on Frank's shoulder, he'd fallen asleep - and when he'd woken up after a finite half an hour, Lolita was asleep too. He'd been sitting still for the past two hours, because he didn't want to wake her.

"Darling." His mother said. "Even with all this crap, you two make me smile."

Frank closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the wall behind them, and Lolita nestled closer to him. "How's dad?"

"Your girl saved his life, Frank." She said, tucking a piece of stray brown hair behind her ear. "If we'd been fifteen minutes later, he would've..."

"Hm." Was all Frank could muster up. After his half hour of sleep, he'd woken to a world that seemed wrong, everywhere. His father was in the hospital. His mother looked like she was about to drop. Frank was aware that his life was pretty much fucked up.

Well, the world seemed wrong everywhere except for here. The world seemed right here, with Lolita in his arms.

"Cora is coming home, first thing tomorrow morning. I called to let her know." His mother said, softly. She stood so stiffly, as if she was afraid she would start crying. "I'm sorry, Frank."

"Why do you always apologize, mama?" Frank's voice was quiet. That was because of Lolita, whose head was on his chest, her hands clutching her notebook. Her breathing was so soft. Frank imagined that's what air would sound like through the gaps between broken violin strings.

"I don't know." She said, sitting down on Frank's other side. "I never thought it would be like this. For us."

Frank didn't say anything. Then he thought that he should. "Not your fault, mama."

"That doesn't mean that I'm not sorry, kid." She said, her voice heavy. His mother had always been this way - this dramatic, crazy woman who was sorry for literally anything and everything wrong that had happened to Frank and Cora. Even if it wasn't her fault.

"What do you want me to say?" Frank said.

"I wish you'd say that it was okay." she said. "But you won't. You never could be a liar."

Frank didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her.

"I'll go grab some burgers." His mother sighed, and looked towards Lolita. "Do her parents know where she is?"

"They're not home yet. Can you call the sheriff, mama?" he said. And then when his mother began walking, he called her again. "Wait. Call him a little later."

Martha looked at him and sighed again, shaking her head. She smiled. "Sure thing, lovebug."

Frank's head leaned back once again on the wall, and he breathed, his chest heaving up. Sometimes it felt as though someone was constantly stepping all over his lungs. Making it hard to breathe. Sometimes he thought the weight was from his father's brown boots, his heavy stance. Sometimes his mother's pair of red pumps. Softer, but more painful, somehow.

"Ah." Lolita sighed. "Wha -" she leaned away from Frank, looking around as if she was trying to remember where she was. Then, her head snapped back to Frank.