Chapter 4: Walls

...Sherry learns more about Lola...

One day Sherry realized that she and Lola were friends. She would not have predicted it, but as she got to know her, she realized they were on the same journey traveling on different roads.

The expense of lunch in the Financial District brought them together. Sherry had determined early on that she’d have to be frugal. So, every morning she prepared salad, which she carried in a plastic container in her bag. Dessert was usually sliced fruit.

She enjoyed eating at Jackson Square. A small park a few blocks away, it was about two-hundred steps wide in any direction and contained some tall pine trees, a fountain and a hillock of green grass. The pace of the day slowed whenever she entered its confines. Sitting by the fountain, she listened to the musical articulation of falling water and watched the treetops swaying in the wind. She might have been on a mountaintop for the sensations she felt.

While her routine rarely varied, she observed that Lola’s did. After payday, she took lunch at the sandwich shop across from the office, then, half way through the two-week period, disappeared. Her moods followed a similar pattern: happy and animated after payday, sullen and sluggish later on.

One day, she found Lola seated on a bench at the Square, staring into the screen of her cell. She sat without waiting for acknowledgment. Lola looked over and nodded and Sherry prepared her lunch.

After a while, Lola palmed her cell and gazed ahead. Sherry tried to draw her into conversation. When she didn’t pick up on it, she asked if she’d eaten. Lola didn’t want to talk about food, but Sherry offered some salad. When Lola declined, she pushed an apple at her, which she took. She admitted she’d rather sleep in than make lunch and didn’t eat much when money ran out. Sherry learned that was the least of her problems.

“I got into some really bad habits over the summer,” she said, tilting her head up at the sky. “The days were so long, it seemed you got off work early because there was so much time before dark.

“I’d meet friends at a place we went to and we talked and laughed over drinks. One drink led to more and, sometimes, when I tried to remember the night before, I counted drinks instead of time. Of course when the money ran out, it was time to go. Unless someone else was paying…

“As the days grew longer, they got drunker, too. And the nights! When I stepped outside, every light was winking. If I wasn’t just going home, and had money and friends, those winking lights were so alluring. Well, the lights weren’t the only things winking.”

Lola looked over to Sherry who’d stopped eating and was holding her breath.

“Have you ever been drunk?” Sherry shook her head.

“Sometimes you get to a point where every word sounds funny and every thought you think sounds funny. Everyone’s drunk and agreeing with each other, making everything funnier.

“When the group breaks apart, you’re still in that drunk funny agreeable mood and that’s when the winking is so seductive.”

“Winking?”

“Boys. Sometimes I can’t remember agreeing to it—- but it’s one thing to wake up beside someone you know and quite another when it’s a stranger.

“When I can reach over and touch him as he sleeps, and I don’t know his name or remember where we met, lying there, hoping I remember before he wakes, hoping he’s nice.”

“You have to stop!”

“I know.”

“What if he’s not nice? What if he’s—“

“Jack the Ripper. Yeah, I thought about it.”

Sherry sat on the edge of the bench, turning to face Lola squarely. As she did she felt she was filling a mold someone else had occupied.

“What steps have you taken?”

Lola crossed her arms and looked away, sliding down in the bench. Sherry held her position five counts before speaking.

“You have to think hard about what’s right, then draw a line. There you build a wall. On one side are the things you keep. Everything else, you toss over.”

Sherry started bringing extra salad and making a point of inviting Lola to lunch. At first, she resisted but then joined in, contributing to the meals by bringing things like bread or chocolate. Encouraged, but mindful of her diet, Sherry nibbled judiciously at the offerings.

She learned that Lola came from Red Bluff, about two hundred miles north of the city, where her parents and a younger brother lived. She had no religious beliefs, which disturbed her.

Sherry became Lola’s companion, directing her to less destructive pursuits, like the low cost activities she’d discovered. She took her up on a few, but shied from church meetings and lectures. Their lunches were the routine. They even met on weekends. That’s when she realized they’d become friends.

*

Lola was on her mind when she went home to celebrate her 21st. She’d taken a first big step by deciding not to drink. She believed her presence made a difference and worried about a relapse, but maybe that was pride; maybe Lola would be all right. She wanted to tell her mother about Lola, but wouldn’t share everything.

Her birthday was a festive event. Not only had immediate family been there, but streams of aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces and Roger. She felt the warm, happy emotions she’d anticipated.

She hadn’t expected, though, comments about her physical appearance. She had lost weight and dressed differently, mostly because her old clothes were looser. She was paler, too, she was told. It amused her, because everyone acted as if she’d accomplished something. All the while, she thought how much more she was changed inside.

Roger hovered on the edges. She could read the anxiety on his face. He thought he might be losing her. For her part, she worried he was unhappy. She calmed and unnerved him when she kissed him on the lips. The younger people whooped and he blushed. She reveled in her boldness, though felt, from somewhere, her mother’s eyes.

After the party broke up, she and her mother were alone and she felt the weight of what must stay unsaid. She thought her mother sensed it, too, and realized that for all her honesty she hardly spoke of unpleasant things, and didn’t dwell on them when she did. She liked to cite good moral examples in the world, leaving a lot unsaid in between. Their eyes searched each other for clues. But when she asked about her roommates a crush of unhappiness descended.

“Are the girls treating you well?”

“Girls?”

“Mara and Riley.”

Her eyes darted left then down. Again, she wanted to fess up. But a confession would put everything into doubt. Unhappy at the wall between them, she answered.

“They’re fine.”




The persons and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event.

The next chapter will be posted August 22.