lola: part one

The girl above? That's me. Lola.

Growing up, I didn't have much going for me. My mother disappeared when I was barely more than an infant. There were rumors that she'd been abducted by aliens or run off with a rock star, but the simple truth was she wasn't ready or willing to be a mother at 17. My father? A class A loser. He dumped me with his mother and told her he'd scored a job working in the offshore oil fields. But no, he had dreams of making it big as a magician... and a toddler just cramped his style.

My grandmother Mae did her best to raise me well. I wish I could say I'd been grateful, but I was your typical teen struggling with abandonment issues. When she passed away last year, right before I graduated, I figured I'd manage until graduation by selling a few bits and pieces--clothes, furniture that didn't hold sentimental value, that sort of thing--and then get a job. At least I had the house.

But what I didn't know was that the house was in my father's name, not mine. I guess I can understand her hoping he'd return some day, even if it was once she died, because I had the same secret hope. That was quickly squashed when he sold it from under my feet. He didn't even come to Twinbrook himself. Sent his lawyer from Starlight Shores, who inventoried all the contents, then told me I had thirty days to be out or face legal action.

Day 29 arrived, and I still had nothing. Just an offer of a couch for a week or two from a school friend while I kept searching for a job. I packed up my clothes, and the tin holding the couple of grand I had from selling some of the junk Nanna had kept in the garage, and tried not to think about what would happen if I didn't find a job soon.

I sobbed as I took my faithful cat to the shelter. They promised to hold her for three days, so if my luck changed, I'd be able to bring her home again before she was placed for adoption. I was devastated. Nanna had given her to me for my 12th birthday. The only thing that I had left to hold onto was the fact I had absolutely nothing left to lose. Everyone I loved--gone. My home--gone. My dreams of attending college to study journalism--gone. There was nowhere to go from here but up. I guess there was death, too, but that's wasn't really an option.

When I returned to spend my final night in the only home I'd known, a limousine was parked out front. Dammit. The lawyer was back. Would the man not worthy of the title of father rob me of this, too, my last goodbye? But the man who stepped from the car was no one I recognized.

He handed me a letter, and told me he'd driven all the way from Riverview, and had been instructed to wait until I'd read it and had made a decision. I must have looked a sight, mascara trails down my cheeks and all. I sat on the porch steps and read the letter, all three pages of it.

I had a great uncle on my mother's side. I knew nothing of that side of my family, save for the knowledge my mother had been killed in a car accident when I was seven. My great aunt, Magnolia, for whom I had been named, had been unable to bear children, and I was the last of the Palooza line. My great uncle, Adelard, was on his death bed, and he had a proposition for me. Would I come visit him? If I didn't accept Adelard's proposition, his driver would have me back in Twinbrook by the morning--plenty of time before my 5pm deadline.

I didn't hesitate. I had nothing to lose. I didn't even take my suitcase.