Lola Had a Dream.
She dreamt of the first time her mother, Mrs. Kane, abandoned her.
At that time, she had just turned seven, her hair curled into little ringlets by rollers, clutching a dirty brown teddy bear as she watched her mother climb into a Chevrolet and drive away, leaving her behind in a cloud of dust.
People say that growing up is watching your children's backs gradually fade into the distance. But for her, it became watching her mother's back disappear further and further away.
Lola sat on the apartment steps for a while, bored, yawning as hot tears welled up in her eyes. Hugging her bear, she went back inside and fell asleep.
She slept until the evening, and still, her mother hadn't returned. But it didn't matter—she could take care of herself.
Lola struggled to drag a stool in front of the refrigerator and, wobbling, managed to take out a bottle of cold soda. But she didn't know how to open the cap. She recalled how her mother would do it, baring her teeth, trying to bite off the cap. Not only did she fail, but the cap also hit her gums. Her mouth puckered, and her eyes instantly filled with tears.
But Lola didn't cry. She was all alone in the house, and no one would appreciate her tears, even if she sobbed her heart out. Even at a young age, she had already begun to understand that every tear had to be shed with purpose.
She tossed the soda aside and grabbed a tub of ice cream, turned on the black-and-white TV, and lay back on the couch, shoveling big spoonfuls into her mouth.
She ate a lot, a lot.
Empty ice cream tubs piled up like small mountains on the coffee table.
Lola thought, maybe this was the only upside of her mom not being home.
However, by midnight, the downside came with full force. Suddenly, her stomach began to churn, and sharp pain gripped her gut like a cold hand squeezing her insides.
Instinctively, she curled up, cold sweat beading on her forehead as she struggled to make her way to the bathroom, each step feeling as if she were crossing a chasm.
Her arms and legs felt like they were filled with lead, and the cold from the ice cream spread out from her stomach, making her whole body shiver.
But the toilet was too high—she had to stand on a small stool to sit on it.
At first, she managed it fine. But after several trips, her legs began to tremble, and her whole body was drenched in cold sweat. Her lips turned pale, and she had to lean against the wall just to make it to the bathroom. While climbing onto the toilet, she slipped and fell off the stool. It didn't hurt—at that height, falling down again wouldn't hurt either.
But Lola felt utterly wronged.
She felt like she had become the loneliest and most miserable child in the world.
Sniffling and sobbing, she climbed back up, sitting on the toilet, bawling her eyes out while desperately struggling with diarrhea.
She thought about how she might end up spending the rest of her life on the toilet.
Thankfully, by three in the morning, her diarrhea finally stopped. Lola's eyes were swollen into two red walnuts. Groggy, she crawled back into bed, pulled the covers over herself, and was about to fall asleep when her mother returned.
Mrs. Kane, who had left in elegance, came back in complete disarray, reeking of alcohol and sweat, her dress, stockings, and high heels splattered with vomit.
Lola was especially sensitive to the smell of alcohol—just a whiff of it, and the hairs on her arms and legs stood on end.
Because when her mother drank, it meant she would get hit.
In the darkness, she opened her eyes cautiously but didn't dare move, her entire body rigidly pressed against the bed, as if glued there.
She heard her mother kicking off her high heels with a loud "thud," startling her into a shiver. Then, she heard her mother's bare feet slapping against the wooden floor like a beast prowling. Thump, thump, thump—the footsteps stopped. The beast had discovered the pile of ice cream tubs on the coffee table, and immediately started cursing. Her words were vile, her thoughts scattered, accusing Lola of eating ice cream and saying she'd end up like her colleagues—infected with syphilis, their bodies rotting and meeting a miserable end.
Lola's eyes filled with tears of fear. She clutched her blanket and silently prayed to God in the dark, hoping He would stop the beast from coming upstairs.
Unfortunately, it seemed God had diarrhea too that night. The beast not only came upstairs but also tried to barge into her room. When her mother found the door locked, she cursed, fumbling with a jangle of keys, inserting one into the lock, and stormed in, yanking Lola out of bed.
Lola let out a scream, clawing and thrashing in an attempt to escape. Her mother slapped her hard, silencing her instantly. Alcoholic fumes wafted from her nostrils as she began berating her.
Her mother, often insulted and judged by various men, naturally switched to their perspective when cursing her daughter, unleashing a barrage of bitter and lewd remarks, criticizing Lola's appearance, body, and demeanor from every angle.
Though Lola would later grow into a fierce carnivorous flower, back then she was still a tender, delicate little bloom. As her mother cursed, humiliated, and tormented her, she could only silently endure it, sniffling and choking back tears.
Eventually, Mrs. Kane grew tired of yelling, tears of exhaustion streaming down her face as she began apologizing, crying that her life wasn't easy either. Although Lola thought her mother was full of it, she had no choice but to pinch her nose and forgive the woman.
This scene played out from the time Lola was seven until she turned eighteen. Her mother never gave up on trying to escape from her, and Lola desperately wanted to break free from the shadow her mother had cast over her life.
But she couldn't escape, no matter how hard she tried.
On the surface, she resented her mother, but behind the scenes, she mimicked her—smoking, cursing, and drinking. She wore her mother's long dresses, walked in her mother's high heels, painted her lips with her mother's lipstick, and held the same women's cigarettes her mother used to smoke.
Her mother had left her without looking back, but a part of her soul had lingered, stuck to Lola.
It seemed she could never escape that woman.
It seemed she was destined to live a life that is both acutely perceptive and indifferent.
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