It was Saturday. Lola had the day off from work and she had plans to do nothing but relax, maybe write. Lola grabbed the folder from the coffee table.
She walked into the kitchen, inhaling coffee and something banana-y. Blair was at the stove, flipping pancakes. Some were black, others runny. Not a single golden brown one to be found.
“Banana pumpkin pancakes. Want to try one?” Lola didn’t have a chance to answer when Blair said, “Yeah. Me either.” She turned the burner off. “How about some toast with peanut butter and honey?”
“Sounds great, Blair.”
“At least I can make coffee,” she mumbled to herself, scratching the butt of her purple pajama pants with a spatula caked in pancake batter.
Lola held in a smile, but it was hard. She poured herself a cup of coffee, carefully sipping it as she eyed her aunt’s latest creation. Or miscreation.
“What’s on the agenda for today?”
“I thought I’d sit out back and write.”
“Good idea! Mind if I join you? I seriously need to get some writing down before I get fired.” They both knew she was indispensable to W, the woman’s magazine Blair wrote for, and the thought of her being terminated would never, ever cross her boss’s mind.
“Not at all. What’s the topic this month?”
“Boxers or briefs for men. I mean, really? You’d think there’d be something more worthwhile to interest women than what kind of underwear their men wear. Apparently not.”
Blair handed Lola a plate with toast on it. She looked down and noticed she was covered in pancake batter and sighed. “I’ll take a shower and meet you out back.”
She juggled her coffee, plate, and folder in her arms and went to the backyard. The sun was hot and Lola was glad she’d thought to put on sunscreen and sunglasses. Her pale skin had a slight glow to it from the fire in the sky and that was all the luminosity she wanted.
Any quiet time turned her thoughts to Jack and today was no exception. Lola set her stuff down on the bench and took a cleansing breath of air. A week had passed and things continued to be stilted between them and she still had no idea why. It was like they were stuck in limbo, never retreating nor advancing.
There were brief moments when everything was in sync and perfect between them and it was wonderful. The next moment they were clashing, misunderstanding each other, turning away from one another.
She hated it. Lola didn’t know how to change it. So many times she opened her mouth to tell him how she felt about him, but he was so distant and almost unapproachable, and she was so scared he didn’t feel the same as she did. From how he was acting, he couldn’t. Lola was afraid to take a chance on him, especially when he didn’t seem willing to take one on her.
Better knowing than always wondering.
Lola opened the folder and stared at the depressing words that used to make up her life. She didn’t want to write about that anymore. Lola wanted to write about hope, about happiness.
She wanted to write about Jack. A smile on her lips, she brought the pen to the paper. If she couldn’t tell him what he meant to her, maybe she could show him.
Safe And Sound
When I’m lost and can’t find my way,
When the monsters are too close and I can’t breathe,
When hope is gone and desolation threatens to drown me,
When I can’t go on,
When I need someone to be there for me,
When I smile,
When I cry,
When I laugh,
When I’m consumed by emotions I don’t understand,
When I love,
You’re there; you’re my safe and sound,
You’re my safe and sound.
***
Lola turned to close the door, excited and nervous at the same time. She was going to tell Jack how she felt about him, finally. Doubts pulled her toward the safety of the house, but she pushed them away.
Now or never, Lola.
She looked up and reared back, instantly wary. It was another scorcher of a day, but just the sight that greeted Lola was enough to make her go cold.
“Hi.” Roxanne said, trying to smile and grimacing instead.
She stood on the last step to the porch, posed as though about to flee, but stiff and unmoving, like she was forcing herself not to. Her fiery red hair was braided; she had on minimal makeup, and wore a plain white tee shirt and khaki shorts. To put it plainly, she looked nothing like herself.
Lola brushed hair damp with perspiration from her brow, hand crumpling the sheet of paper within it. She shoved it into her back pocket and met Roxanne’s somber gaze.
“You should go. I don’t need any more stitches.”
Roxanne looked away, throat convulsing as she swallowed. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said quietly. She hugged herself as she looked at Lola, as though gathering strength from her own embrace.