Lola

My head is still pounding but instead of jackhammers it’s more like drumsticks. Fox has been great and if it wasn’t for him, I don’t know what I would have done. I roll over and the bed is empty. I squint at the clock on the bedside table, and it’s three in the afternoon. I’m not sure which day it is though. Instead of searching for Fox, I decide to shower. At this point, anything that might make me feel better, I’ll try. And a shower can do wonders sometimes.

After taking my time in the bathroom, I walk out feeling a little more human. I brush my wet hair, then grab one of Fox’s shirts. I notice all my boxes are now cluttering his bedroom. God, Fox is such a good guy.

When I walk out of the room, Fox is on the phone and holds out a finger when he sees me, then actually leaves the room to talk in private, shutting the door to the bedroom behind him. I’m deaf—walking out of the room and shutting the door is overkill. Turning around would have been more than sufficient. Regardless, he’s never done that, and if I’m being honest, it hurts. But I can’t be a jerk after all he’s done for me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t start being nosy or jealous after being so needy. I go to the kitchen and gulp down some water just as Fox walks back out.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“A bit better.”

He runs his thumb down my cheek. “It’s getting yellowish now.”

“Sexy, right?”

He doesn’t laugh. That’s our thing. Making light out of dark. But he’s not finding humor in this apparently.

“No. Not at all.” He reaches for my shirt and lifts it a bit to examine the other bruises. “How about here? Better?”

“Yes. A little.” I squirm when he touches my side because it still aches. I step back and right my shirt, uncomfortable with being doted on. I exhale, then clap my hands together determinedly. “Time to put on my big-girl panties, right? So, I’m broke, but I’m feeling better. I need to get back to my life. Am I on shift tonight?”

“Excuse me? Work? No. You can’t work yet. You’re concussed, most likely.” He lightly runs his finger along the bump on my forehead and then the one on the back of my head, both significantly smaller now.

“They didn’t say that. I don’t remember anyone saying that.”

“I do.” He grabs the papers the paramedics gave us and shows them to me. “You need to rest.”

I take the papers and look at them. He’s right but I don’t care. I toss them aside and shake my head. “No. What I need is money. What I need is an apartment. What I need is not to get fired.” Thank God, I have some money in the bank. “I also need to talk to Matt and Nick or David or whoever is in charge and let them know that I’m not going to be resigning next week, after all. I hope they’ll let me keep working there.”

He runs his fingers through his hair like he does when he’s frustrated. “Why don’t we go out? Maybe grab something to eat, go shopping, you said you haven’t bought nice clothes in a long time. Let’s do that. See how you feel and then we’ll talk about work.”

“I don’t like you telling me what to do.”

“My little Tiger hates to admit she needs help,” he says with a smirk. “But I’m going to help. I’m going to be here for you, even if you fight me every step of the way. I’m going to take care of you because I want to take care of you. Just let me do it.” He kisses my nose and then goes to get dressed. “I am your boyfriend, after all.”

Ugh. I follow him to the bedroom. “I only told the cops that you were my boyfriend because ‘guy I sleep with and use his washing machine’ was too long of a title,” I lie. I want him to be my boyfriend. I want so much from him but we don’t have the time. Well, we didn’t have the time. But now that I’m staying in Miami, maybe we can have a real relationship.

“Sure it was,” he says tenderly and kisses my forehead.

I hate admitting that, even to myself. I’m not used to feeling so dependent on another person and it scares me to death.

---

I never go shopping anywhere besides Walmart or thrift shops but here I am at the mall, at a nice store sifting through their nice clothes. “You know…it’s hot in Ecuador,” he says as if this is news to me.

“Uh…yeah, I know. It’s by the equator.”

“Right, right,” he says distractedly, then adds, “But I read it sometimes gets breezy at night.”

“Not that it matters anymore.”

“They could still find the guy and the money.”

“Still, it wouldn’t matter. It’s too late.” I sift through a rack of jeans.

“Since when are you so pessimistic?”

I glare at him. “Since I was mugged, maybe? Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He pulls a thick sweater from a rack and hands it to me. “Here, just in case.”

I roll my eyes and put it back. “On the off chance that the guy is caught in, oh, let’s say the next minute or two, and he has all three thousand dollars on his person, and I can make it to school to pay for my spot, I’m sure I can find a better sweater than that in the box of clothes I brought from my ransacked apartment. Don’t worry.”

He grabs another sweater and a bunch of shirts. “You’re going to take one single sweater? For three months? I think you need a couple.”

I shrug. What’s the big deal, I think. It’s not like I’m going. And even if I were to go, why is he harping on the sweater thing?

“What would you pack exactly? If you were going to go, that is.”

I try to recall the letter that came with my welcome package when I gave the initial deposit to hold my spot. “T-shirts, shorts, jeans, comfortable clothes. Light, easy to wash, re-wearable stuff.”

“So what’s with that dress you have in your hand?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s nice, right?” I haven’t bought anything indulgent in a long, long time. And now that I’m not planning for anything specific, why not? I look through the shirts he’s handed me. Some are nice, mostly my style but they’re all clearly for the trip, which he doesn’t seem to understand I’m no longer going on.

His phone must’ve rang because he holds up a finger, much like this morning, and starts talking, but he’s facing a bit to the side, so I can’t see his lips and don’t know what he’s saying. I put some of the shirts back but decide to keep a few things, since I’m in such need of clothes anyway. I move on to another rack to find some jeans and a few pairs of shorts. When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn. “Something came up,” he says.

“Oh…uh,” I start, not sure whether to put back my pile of clothes or what. He takes everything from my hands, including the sweater I do not need or want, and the shirts that he’d originally chosen, walks to the cashier, and dumps it all in front of her. “Wait! No.” I start to protest. “Stop.” I have money in my checking but I also have to look for a new apartment, and I have to replan my entire life, I don’t want to spend a fortune on clothes. But before I can even finish my sentence he’s handing the cashier his credit card.

“Wait. What the hell, Fox? What are you doing?”

“I need to run, babe.”

“But I don’t need all of that.”

He’s talking but he’s not looking at me so I get on the tips of my toes, and not so gently squeeze his chin, forcing his face my way. “What? Say that again?” I demand, annoyed.

“You can pay me back later if you’re going to be difficult about it. And return what you don’t want or what doesn’t fit. But I need to run.”

“We can just come back.”

“There’s no time for that.”

No time? I have nothing but time now.

He’s being crazy but the clothes are already in bags and then he’s grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the mall.

“What the hell is the rush?”

“Iggy called. I have to go in for about an hour.”

“Oh.” Well, it’s work. Okay.

We get to the apartment but he doesn’t even get out of his car. Leaning over the center console, he presses his lips swiftly against mine. He gave me an extra key, so I take my bags out of the car. “See you in about an hour, okay? Try everything on.”

“Okay?”

“Seriously, babe. Try it all on. See what fits. What doesn’t. Make a list of whatever else you need.”

Then he drives off.

Need? Need for what? What the hell is happening?

Fox

I’m at the parking lot of Iggy’s hotel with Iggy and some guy I’ve never met, Amir. “You sure you want to do this? You’re going to lose about ten grand on this deal,” Iggy says to me.

“Don’t try to talk him out of this. It’s practically brand-new,” Amir says, checking out the interior of my car. “Even the mileage is low.”

“I’ve only had it about six months and I just go from work to home,” I say from a few feet behind him, as I watch him inspect my yellow Corvette, the one I flaunted around town thinking I was hot shit with my cool car. Now I realize I’m just an asshole who threw away money on a stupid, uncomfortable car I never even liked that much. It was my father’s dream car. He had models of different Corvettes all along the living room—he used to collect them when he worked in a car plant, before the auto industry in Detroit went to shit.

“Okay. We’ve got a deal.” He takes out his wallet and hands me the cashier’s check and for the next half hour we finalize the paperwork. Then my car is gone.

“Well, that was dumb,” Iggy says when Amir drives off in his new Corvette. I run my palm down my face. There’s not even a commitment of any kind between Lola and me, and I just sold my car to give her over twenty thousand dollars because I want her to go to Ecuador without the student loans hanging over her head. The three thousand dollars she’s short I have in my savings, but I want to do more than just that. She deserves it. She’s had so much shit in her life that even if tomorrow I never see her again, she deserves to live out her dream. “No, not dumb. She deserves to go. It’s just a car, right?”

“Nice car, though.”

“Yeah, it was.”

He slaps my shoulder playfully with a chuckle. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

I take him up on his offer because, shit, I don’t have a car now.

Damn.

On my way home, Iggy stops at the bank so that I can wire the tuition payment to her school as per her advisor’s instructions, and deposit the rest into my savings account. She will never accept me paying off her student loan, so I’ll have to be sneaky on how to find the information and send it off. Meanwhile, I’ve already scoped out a few less pricey cars that I’m planning to check out later this week, once things are settled with Lola. When we arrive at my apartment, I thank Iggy for his help selling the car. I don’t know how he knows so many people and how he was able to make that deal happen so quickly but I don’t question it. Instead I head upstairs to my apartment.

Lola is sitting on the sofa with a computer on her lap and her small little feet on my ottoman. God, I’m going to miss her feet.

She glances at me and a smile spreads across her face. “Hey. So, I’m redoing my resume,” she says as she turns back to the computer. “I’m thinking that maybe it’s time to use my degree in education for something. There are some openings for teachers up north in Jacksonville. I think I’m going to apply. I don’t have any experience but I can maybe start as an assistant or something or—”

I cut her off by grabbing the bags of clothes that are still sitting by the front door and dumping them on the sofa. “You didn’t try them on?”

Her brows furrow. “Uh…no. Not yet. Later. What’s the rush?”

“You leave for Ecuador next week. You need clothes. You need to pack.”

She closes her laptop and pushes it aside. For the first time I notice her god-awful green lamp on my white marble side table, and my nose scrunches. She looks over her shoulder at what I’m looking at. “This place needs some color. And…” She shakes her head. “What are you talking about? Ecuador? They caught the guy?”

“No. But I got the money. I wired it to your school and I got an email confirmation. You’re all set to go. You’re going, Lola.”

She’s just staring at me.

“Say something.”

“I don’t…what?” she says, loudly.

“You’re going to Ecuador.”

“And you paid for it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Why? “Because you deserve to go. Because you’re the best person I know. Because those children deserve to have you there.”

Lola

I am utterly speechless. Did I read his lips correctly? My eyes are clouded with tears and I can’t see clearly—I must’ve misread his lips.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to Ecuador,” he says as if he can read my mind.

“But—” I feel my lips blubbering. “Oh my God, Fox, I can’t accept your money.”

“Of course you can.”

“No. I really can’t. It’s too much and it’s just…no.”

“You went to Detroit for me. You used your money for me, and you wouldn’t let me pay you back. That’s what people who care for each other do. I want to do this and I won’t take it back so, you have no choice.”

“No one’s ever—”

He covers my mouth with his finger. “ ‘No one’s ever’ for me either. Until you. So please, let me do this for you. I know you hate depending on anyone, but trust me. You can depend on me.”

My heart expands so much I feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest. The feelings…there are so many of them. A bubble of emotions bursts out of my lips and I sob out loud.

Jumping up on the sofa, I throw myself on him, wrapping my legs and arms around him. I can feel him laughing while I cry against his neck. I move my head back. “Fox…” And then I kiss him. I kiss him hard and sloppily on his lips and cheeks and eyes. I’m raining kisses all over him as he holds me tightly against his warm, hard chest, which I’ve grown to love so much.

There are so many things I want to say to him but how can I? When he asked me to stay, I almost chewed his head off. He can’t go with me; he has a job and a life here in Miami.

“This sucks,” I say, not knowing how else to convey everything that I’m thinking, and I know he understands exactly what I mean when he nods somberly.

“I’ll miss you so much.” And the tears start to flow harder.

He kisses them away and doesn’t say anything but his throat bobs in and out, and I can see he’s holding back emotions. “Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Because what else is there to say? I don’t know how else to properly convey how grateful I am.

I slide off him slowly and a gloomy cloud hangs over the apartment and even though I am thrilled I’m going to Ecuador and finishing my master’s, I can’t seem to shake off the melancholy darkening my mood because I will miss him more than I can put into words. And, since he knows me so well, he tries to lighten the mood and make me smile.

“You’re going to have to show me the bus route to work,” he says with a fake little laugh.

I hiccup and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand one final time. “What?”

“Sold my car. And before you say anything, I wanted to. And it’s sold already so I can’t get it back.”

My eyes open wide, and I snort an ugly cry-laugh and throw myself at him again. “You are the best person I know. I didn’t even know people like you existed. You throw paper airplanes at me! Who does that?” I sob loudly. “A wonderful, compassionate man is who. I’m sorry I ever thought you were a pompous jerk. You’re the most amazing, selfless, kind man I’ve ever known.”

He pushes back and squeezes my chin so that I can see his lips. “Pompous jerk? I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere?”

“Yes!”

“I’m really not that deep, babe.”

“You really are, but I won’t tell anyone,” I say, sniffling again. “I’ll pay you back. It’ll take me a while, but every single penny, I’ll pay you back. Thank you. Thank you,” I say again

“I don’t want you to pay me back.”

And the tears start flowing all over again. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop crying.

Fox

This woman never cries and now it’s like a dam has broken, and she’s an emotional mess. I haven’t even told her about her student loans yet. I nudge her into the bathroom for a hot, relaxing bath to see if that will get her crying under control, and once she’s locked inside, I start rummaging through her boxes until I see a folder with what seems like her bills. It makes me a little uncomfortable going through her stuff so I quickly flip through everything, and when I see the one with her student loan, I grab it and use the automated telephone service to make a payment. It’s surprisingly easy, and there is zero security code necessary. I guess when you want to give someone twenty thousand dollars they don’t question it much. I finish and put the letter back where I found it. She will find out about the payment at some point, so I decide not to tell her about it at all.

She’s wrapped in a towel, her face is pink from the heat and her hair is in a knot on top of her head. “Sorry about losing it. You overwhelmed me,” she says.

“No problem. You can be vulnerable with me, Lola. You don’t have to be scared to cry or be sad. I would never think less of you.”

“I know. I’m just not used to it, is all.”

“I understand.” I kiss her on the forehead and then sit on the bed. “So as I was saying, you need to try on all those clothes.” I add a wink, hoping I’ll get to watch her model everything for me.

She walks out and comes right back in with the bags of clothes and dumps it all on the bed. “I wish I could make you half as happy as you make me. This is not a fair relationship, you know?” she says.

“You’ve given me more than you know.”

“I’ve got nothing to give you, Fox.”

“That’s not true. You flew to Detroit when I needed you. You understand me when I don’t even understand myself. Trust me, we’re more than even.” I kiss her lips hungrily. “And you let me give you endless amounts of orgasms.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty selfless that way.”

“We have a week to go. I propose we get in as many selfless moments as possible. What do you think?”

“I’m all for that plan.”

“Fuck, baby, you’ve made me insatiable. What am I going to do without you here?”

“Masturbate?” she says coyly as she strokes my arm with her finger. “I’m going to miss all your tattoos, you know that? I was never that into tats, but now they’ve grown on me. Especially your clever fox.”

“Really, you like it that much?” I look over my shoulder. “I mean, I like it too but it’s a little quirky.”

“You’re quirky.”

“Nah, I’m manly.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes again. “Nah, you’re mostly quirky. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Then she kisses me and I proceed to show her how manly I can be.

God, I’m going to miss her.

---

“Where’s your tie?” she asks me as we get ready to leave for work.

“I’m trying something new. Does it look terrible?” I sign. I want to be fully immersed in her world and signing is a part of her world. Not knowing her language is like if she spoke German and I spoke Spanish and we didn’t at least try to learn each other’s language. It’s been a slow process but this last week I’ve been working on it more diligently.

“No. Not at all,” she signs back, and I know she loves when we sign. It’s like we have our own little secret language. Her smile is brilliant. “I can’t believe you finished getting ready before me.”

“You are the girl, after all.” I smirk.

“Why are you standing here looking at the lamp?”

“It’s just so ugly,” I say, looking at the abomination in my living room. The lamp shade has limes on it, for Christ sake. It’s been there for a week and I still can’t seem to walk by it without cringing.

“It’s cute. You have to admit it brightens up the place.”

“That’s a lot of bright.”

“It’s okay, you can throw it away the minute I leave, but for now, I think you should give it a chance.”

We both stand there, just looking at the lamp. She’s probably admiring her lamp, but suddenly I have this pain in my chest. The days with Lola are numbered and it hurts. I know she’s leaving—we’ve been preparing, and she’s been packing. We’re ready for this. It’s all we talk about. So why does it hurt so much?

I tap her shoulder and sign, “Burning it too cruel?”

She smiles and a laugh comes out of her mouth. She looks down, embarrassed. I know she’s still so self-conscious about her laughter. I tip her chin up. “When you leave, will you just stop laughing and talking?”

She shrugs. “I’m going to be with kids that are a lot like me. They can’t hear so there’s no need to speak and if I do speak, they can’t hear.”

“But it’s a beautiful sound, Lola. Don’t keep it hidden.”

Lola

I hop into Fox’s new—well, new to him—car. I like it. I actually like it more than the Corvette. It’s a white sports car, an Acura or an Audi. I don’t know much about it really, except that it’s a few years old. But it’s cute and full of gadgets inside. It’s definitely more comfortable than the other one. Less flashy, in any event. We head to Duality for my last day of work, and it’s a bittersweet day. I’ve loved working at the club but I’m excited to start a new chapter in my life.

Fox is unusually upbeat and at the end of the night, everyone hugs me and wishes me good luck. It’s sweet but it makes me realize that I never connected enough with anyone. Work at the club was always hectic and I didn’t socialize afterward, so I didn’t get to know anyone that well. That’s not to say that I disliked my co-workers, I just didn’t know them well enough. And that bothers me.

“You okay?” Fox asks when we get back home. “You’ve been really quiet.”

“I just…I’m going to miss this place and the people. I wish I had gotten to know them better. I was just starting to make some friends.”

---

Today is the day.

I’ve been waiting for this day for as long as I can remember and I’m terrified. We’re at the airport and I’m about to hand over my ticket to the teller and walk through the terminal, which means it’s the last opportunity I have to be with Fox and I’m nauseous. I may actually throw up. My nerves are everywhere and I have a huge knot in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away.

For the past two days he’s been in a great mood. Better than I’ve ever seen him. “It’s time, Lola,” he says with a smile.

“I guess it is.” And unlike him, I’m a wreck. I’m biting my nails and looking up at the screen with the boarding information. “Okay, yeah, so this is it.”

He smiles and says, “You ready? Passport? Documents? Tickets?”

“I’m all set.” And as strong as I’ve been trying to be, my lips wobble as I say it.

I wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly, as if it’s the last time I’ll ever see him. Which it may very well be. I’m off for three months, and he’ll be here working at a nightclub with hot and tempting women all around him. I’ve told him that this is temporary so many times that maybe he finally bought into it. I feel like a fool, pushing him away for two months instead of trying to pull him closer.

“Fox?” I say, looking up at him. I have no right to ask this from him. “I know I made the rules coming into this and I have no right to even say this but…” And I swallow. “Maybe when I get back…maybe we can…” I don’t finish because my throat closes and I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t believe I’m saying goodbye to this man, who I’m head over heels in love with. I physically clench my chest with my palm because it hurts.

“You’ve told me you have possible opportunities to stay in the program after Ecuador. You may not even come back, right? Not for a long time.”

“I’ll be back for graduation and then I don’t know.” I could be back in three months or I could sign up to go elsewhere if I’m accepted. But still, I want to know that he wants more. It’s killing me that he’s acting as if this is it.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I can’t expect him to sit around and wait for me.

“Text me when you land,” he says.

I wipe under my eyes. “Okay.”

Again he smiles. And suddenly, it pushes me over the edge.

“Oh my God! What the hell is wrong with you!” I shove his shoulder. “Are you happy that I’m leaving? Why do you keep smiling at me? I’ve been crying for the last three days. I feel like my heart is breaking, I’m this close to canceling everything and staying, and you just keep smiling. Creepily, I’ll add.”

He runs his palm down his face and that stupid smile is gone. “Because of that right there. What you just said. You have to go. And I don’t want my feelings to get in the way of you leaving.”

I’m thoroughly confused. What is he saying?

He grabs the straps of my backpack and pulls me forward with such force, I almost fall. “Of course it’s fake, woman. I can’t even breathe. You’re leaving and you’re ripping my heart out and taking it with you. That’s how much it fucking hurts.” I can see the way his throat bobs, and I bet the lump in his throat is as thick as mine.

“Thank you for being miserable too. I thought I was being crazy.”

He shakes his head and I think his eyes are misty too. “You are fucking crazy but you’re my kind of crazy. I don’t know how I’ll survive without you but I will, and so will you, okay? I want you to have fun. Enjoy every single moment of it. Try to text or email as much as possible, and before you know it you’ll be back and you’ll be graduating and then we can talk, okay? See where your head is at and what you want to do post-grad, all right?”

He’s letting me go so that I’ll be happy. Yet, I don’t feel happy and I don’t want to let go.

He wipes my eyes for me, then kisses my lids one at a time and I kiss his lips a final time. I think I notice his eyes are a bit glassy too. “I’ll miss you, baby,” he signs, and I turn around and walk away from the only man I’ve ever loved.