📜 Lola's Story | Chapter 2~ Original parts 4-6 + BONUS MATERIAL 📜

freedomtowrite (65)in Freewriters • 4 years ago

Lola's fingertips caressed the picture frames along the hall as she tiptoed quietly down the hall of her parents house. Smiling faces stared back at her.

She had decided to accept her parents invitation to move into their home. Her resistance had waned once they had placed a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup in front of her. The floodgates of hunger had opened, and she was hungry, so hungry.
Although she knew she should feel grateful, she knew she needed to...feel...anything for them, the only thing she could feel was that this wasn't her home. It wasn't even the place she had grown up. Her parents had grown and moved on. But what she wouldn't give in this moment to walk outside and sit below the maple tree Kyle had proposed under...or the front porch where he had kissed her for the first time. She caressed her belly, and thought back on the last three nights of broken sleep on scratchy sheets and a stiff mattress that belonged to the guest bedroom

The only thing that felt like home were the sounds of her little brother in the room next door. But even that was foreign, it had been five years since they last shared a roof.

She passed his room now, and heard him feeding his pet snake, and continued towards the kitchen. The smell of cinnamon rolls wafted through the air. Her mom was baking, and for a fleeting moment she felt joy.

She nibbled at the cinnamon roll sitting on her plate, then pushed it away as her stomach rolled.

“Come on,” Gloria said, “it can't be that bad. I guess you are a bit yellow again,” she said pushing her hair away from her face.

Thought of being 'yellow...again' made her stomach even more queasy, and she pushed her mother off.

“I'm just going...,” she tried to manage out, but grabbed the trash can, which was always with her now, and threw up again. She wiped her mouth off and laid her head in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh sweetie, I know it will get better. I'll go grab some crackers and heat up that soup you love.”

While her back was turned, Lola quietly headed of the dining room and back to her bedroom.

A full week had gone by, but the nausea only waned slightly. She obediently trudged in and out of the kitchen whenever her mom summoned. She couldn't imagine a time when food would sound good again.

And now she sat at the kitchen table across from a plate full of cookies, digging her fingernails into the aged wood. Each imprint created a little half-moon. She had just discovered that if she arranged it just right...she could shape a flower.

"Lola, are you even listening?" her mother asked impatiently. "This insurance paperwork needs your attention. They keep insisting that without the proper..."
Lola dug a little deeper with her thumbnail, and applied more pressure, and harder still until her nail bent backwards. She lifted her thumb to examine the white line that had now formed over her pink nail bed.

"...So if we don't send them want they're asking for, you want get anything. Not one dime. I think I'll call a lawyer. Who's that guy on T.V? What's his name? The one your dad calls a soulless ginger...doesn't make sense...he has red hair too..." she prattled on as she made her way to the phone book. "And please eat a cookie."

Lola glanced at the plate of cookies and her stomach rolled. Kyle wouldn't have made her eat protein cookies that tasted like cardboard...he would have baked her a fresh batch of pumpkin raisin, her favorite. The tears began to well in her eyes, and she couldn't control the onslaught of thoughts she had tried so hard to stifle.

He would have baked cookies. He would've held my hair as I threw them back up. He would've touched my belly and sung some horrible rock song to our baby.

She glanced at the forms on the table through blurry eyes.

He would know how to fill these stupid papers out! He would have taken care of it all. If he was here.

But if he was here, there would be no forms, no lawyers. I'd be home!

But he's not...he's not because...I killed him...I killed him...

Black swept over Lola's eyes as her gripped loosened from the table, and she slid from the chair to the hard tile floor.

The bright lights startled Lola out of a deep sleep, and she cursed under her breath.
She reached for her face to rub the sleep out of her eyes, but was met with pained resistance. Her right inner arm was taped, holding an IV in place. She had been hospitalized. She struggled for a coherent thought, but her last solid memory wouldn't come.

She glanced around the room, and saw Tommy sitting across the room playing on his IPod. She closed her eyes hoping he hadn't noticed her. She craved solitude.

"Hey," her brother's soft voice startled her from beside her bed.
She opened her eyes and smiled slightly as he dragged a chair closer to the bedside, scrapping the linoleum.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

Lola groaned in response.

"Man, I'm supposed to tell them when you wake up, but they are really freaking out. They keep talking about mental medications you can take that won't hurt the baby."

"I don't want medications..." she mumbled.

"Well, you have to start eating. I mean, more than a bowl a soup a day."
She rolled her eyes.

"You can listen to me or not, but I'm not the one lying in a hospital bed."

Heat rose in her chest.

Her throat was dry, and it hurt to speak, but she raised herself onto one shakey elbow, and stared deeply into her thirteen year old brother's eyes.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Tom, no idea." Her voice came out raspy and thin.

"No? Well, tell me if I'm wrong. Two weeks ago, today, you were driving and Kyle was riding shot-gun. You slid on some ice and rolled. You walked away, but Kyle didn't. You can't really believe that you are the only one that gets it. You can't really believe that you are the only one that's sad. Lola, he was the only brother I ever had."
He dragged he's chair back against the wall, sat down hard, and put back in his earbuds.

The next two weeks dragged by slowly, but the impact of Tommy's words played heavily on her mind. He had been the only brother Tom had ever known, and he was gone now. He was gone and it was all her fault. But he didn't blame her.