LOLA MUST LIVE | Chapter One

I’m aware of where you go
Each time you leave my door
I watch you walk down the street
Knowing your other love you’ll meet

But this time before you run to her
Leaving me alone and hurt
(Think it over) After I’ve been good to you?
(Think it over) After I’ve been sweet to you?

Stop!

Happening to be at the center of something horrible was unfortunate. To wish to be the eye chaos itself whirled around, was downright selfish. The difference was clear and yet as flame kicked wax down the 1 and 9 on the diner cupcake in front of me, a decade of daydreams fought against mundanity.

Phantom kicks of dread flipped my gut. I inhaled the intention of growing up.

Something’s going to happen. So much of my life had been a quiet countdown to adulthood. Eighteen, the year of stagnation, betrayed me more than anything. Everything was supposed to be different and new, but here I was in the same Willi’s I grew up in, ordering the same triple appetizer I’ve gotten since twelve. I thought the Great Normality would come with age and without effort, and that the feeling I was meant for so much more would someday pass. I sickened myself on dreams about it, the substance forgotten when awake but the feelings sticking to my existence.

I squeezed my stomach tighter. It couldn’t all be like this.

Something’s going to— “Wow. Relax, honey, it doesn’t have to be so serious. Quit actin’ like the world will end if you blow out some candles wrong.” Kenji’s elbow knocked against mine playfully.

Wishes don’t matter to someone who don’t think they come true.

“It’s whatever you want, y’know, it’s a cupcake,” he said.

“What if I do want the world to end?” I joked. A pressure released behind my eyes.

“Wish for everyone in here to die and I wouldn’t give a shit so long as I got to stay with you,” he said.

“If I could somehow keep you safe from all the boyfriend horror tropes, I’d turn the whole world into my own nice little slasher movie.”

The smile faded as he looked at me, oxymoronic vibes must’ve got to him.

“What?” as I asked, a weighted bead of blood fell from my nose to the 9 candle. Smoky iron polluted the air in high warning.

My hand came away with little more blood.

Red slid down the swirls of icing and pooled around the wrapper. I blew out the other candle quick and Kenji pulled the plate away, gave me a napkin.

Something’s wrong. I wiped at my nose again, the tilt dribbling what was leftover down my throat.

Post-work hands slid a wrapped gift in front of me, obviously a hardcover book once I picked it up.

“I’m sorry it’s not much, I’ve been saving up for a different surprise.” He wiped the back of his neck, “just tell me it’s the right one.” I suspected Kenji was planning something. His hours nearly doubled in the last year, he came home grimier and worked half to death.

I could tell from the first revealed corner.

Seth Lawrence, PI. The latest by my favorite author, Zachary Reese. Ken tried to get me them as they came out, but just as Dr. Reese started putting out more books than usual, life caught up to us.

I held the book up to the window beside us, looking at the shining decals on the cover, something brilliantly wrong catching my eye in the February winds.

A vibrant violet leaf carried by the breeze, darted out from behind the book for a flash. I furiously wiped my nose. No blood, no brain fluid. Am I having a stroke?

My boyfriend’s devious voice sat close to my ear, “I brought our fakes, if you want to loosen up.”

Still making sense of nature’s error, I said, “no, I can’t drink right—“ My mouth clamped shut, attention first on Kenji’s tired eyes gone wide, then on the slurry of metallic movement coming up behind him.

All the slowing time amounted to was a sick feeling of Déjà rêvé

My dreams came true.

For the first time ever, I loitered in public over the safety of my room.

Among the late-night chatter of passerby’s growing further and scuttling across pavement, the breeze howled. Crisp winds carried the earthly smells of leaves’ decay.

My back pressed against the cold brick of my apartment building, I took a break from scanning downtown Seattle streets for threats to watch yellow and orange leaves race each other down the storm drain, their race intruded upon by pine needles and street litter.

The vortex stopped. A flyer suctioned against the gates, pulp giving way to pooling water one metal diamond at a time.

Help wanted. An ad for a bookstore, the quaint kind of job that screamed ‘Normal Life’. Wait, that street. I looked up, this job could be a short walk from here.

Incandescent streetlights lined the sidewalk, the dark blues of night melted into the fog on the distance, mist in the air visible and dancing close to the bulbs.

Kenji got held up in traffic on the way back. Thanks to that, I was out waiting at a time of night where things tended to happen, holding my hands to my mouth to keep the chill at bay.

Twin lines of the road stretched out ahead of me like yellow brick, leading to the traffic light. Under blinking dots sat a squared gaussian blur of light, a shop sat far down on the opposing side of street. The longer I looked, the more of a pull.

The sensation of being watched crept up the back of my neck, down my arms. I searched for the responsible, finding the sidewalk I occupied totally devoid of life.

I pulled my sweater tighter around myself.

I’d been here for months and had never seen the street empty like this before. An ever-changing backdrop, disturbed only now that I’ve joined in.

Pshh. Typical.

The full rushing of water returned, the flyer disintegrated.

“Hey—“

“Motherf—“ I leapt out of my skin at the voice close behind me, prepared to swing on sight. A taxi slow rolled away when I met the ground again. “Ken!” I barely restrained my shout of happiness in the night.

When I spun to face him, the wide and teasing smile flickered off his face, expression going slack. In molasses motions, he dropped his bags on the damp sidewalk.

My fighting posture was nowhere to be found.

“You look…”

My breath stayed in, my diaphragm the only thing keeping my heart in its place.

“So, it’s obvious the birth control’s working?” I didn’t think the weight gain looked bad… Curves had filled out a bit; a more protective layer insulated my organs. Personally, I thought it just made me look more… grown.

It didn’t matter what it made me look like. I’d take any side effect over the other thing.

I prepared for the weight of his words, not the weight of his body thrown at me, his arms wrapped around me tight enough to crack my back.

“You look so good.” A deep sigh escaped him, “I’m so glad you’re alright without me.”

“Huh?” I didn’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alright doing it. The sweet warmth on my neck bittered a bit.

He backed away just enough to look at me, cradled my face like he couldn’t believe it.

I wasn’t alright without you.

“I was so worried you stopped eating or didn’t know how to grocery shop, or forgot to pay the bills, or—”

“Give me more credit than that.” I batted at him with a laugh, knowing full and well the contents of our cabinets didn’t indicate any of what he’s assuming. He was right on multiple accounts. “You look good too.”

The yellow tone that crept into his sclera over the years was much clearer now, the butterfly that made its home in blush left. He gained weight too, less of his skeleton visible than before. His tawny brown skin had a glow I never realized left.

“Feel good?” I asked while he grabbed his bags to carry up.

He eyed me, “I do now, yeah.”

Our apartment was a few floors up and at the end of the hall, tucked in a corner with only one way leading to it. I liked it.

On the way to the front door, Kenji gestured to our neighbor.

“Good one?”

“I guess so?” I shrugged. “He moved in a few months before I did. The only time we met was once when he came to check on me during a power outage.”

“Nice of him,” Kenji hummed. “I’ll go say hi, sometime.” Not even in the door yet and you’re growing out your community roots already. I’ve never seen someone who hates people be so sociable.

“I think he works odd hours,” I warned, recalling sounds of jingling keys and tired boots in the dead of night every so often.

I unlocked the cherry cola door and gestured him in. I stepped in behind him and blinded us both with the big light. “Welcome home, Ken.”

Our first apartment together. A giant studio; industrial brick, warehouse-style ceiling, one full wall of glass overlooking the our street. Far from what I originally had in mind, but it accepted us the quickest.

Coming in, I put on my best real estate agent impression.

I laughed at Kenji whistling while he set his things down, leering at me in the safety of our new home together.

“This, my good sir, is the kitchen,” I gestured to the small area, contained by a U shape counter. “And if you’ll follow me, we can see lovely pink and green tile.” Dark chestnut cabinets lined the back wall and above the counter and green mosiac backsplash. Cute but worn red leather bar stools sat in a group of three at the main counter. “You won’t believe how cheap I got those chairs.”

“You put in a lot of effort decorating,” he observed, browsing bowls of fake fruit and jars of display pastas and peppers. “It looks really nice in here.” What he didn’t know, was that I spent the two days prior scrubbing away the evidence of a seven month depression. There was no other option but for it to look good now, my shame decided.

“I wanted to go for like, a Tuscan sorta thing, but turns out it’s really hard to stick to just one vibe,” or when the colors of the room don’t match the decor.

He pointed with his lips, “why three chairs?”

“What if we have a guest!” I felt bad leaving one behind, okay.

“Is that what we’d call your second boyfriend? A guest?” he started the jokes early this time, “Kind of rude.”

“Shut up.” I laughed.

The odd counter placement created a nook of sorts on the other side of the kitchen. That was the art’s and crafts area, a long table to sit two people with my computer and Kenji’s knitting basket. Under the table stored my small bookshelf, the bin of Kenji’s sewing projects, and some dumbbells. If I fully escaped the seven month drab and got the itch for creativity again, it’d be a nice spot for us on rainy days.

I moved left to show him the living room bedroom area, also almost entirely thrifted. So much bought in the first weeks of living here. I thought if I kept filling up the empty spaces it’d begin to feel like home, and I would stop feeling the lack of Kenji over everything. Until what happened, I didn’t know I could feel so haunted by someone still alive.

Our queen sized bed was tucked in the corner, headboard against the thick steel window framing, our clean nightstands hugging either side.

It’s the same bed Kenji had in the basement back home. I entertained the idea of starting fresh with a new mattress, but I foresaw myself unable to sleep without feeling of Ken’s indents in the bed. Not being able to feel proof of his existence while he was away might’ve drove me mad. Then I’d have to betray myself, call my mother, and beg for the damn mattress.

“Look at this view.” Kenji breathed, looking over the streets below.

I crept up beside him and looked at out at the city. Weird. I furrowed my brow. Where’d all the people come from? Sidewalks and traffic flowed now, much more than when I waited for Kenji just a few moments ago.

Kenji nudged me, glanced at the bed, then back at the people below.

“You can’t see the bed from the street. at all.” I squinted at him, jumping in surprised delight as he pulled me close. He tickled despite my swats. “They’ll definitely see this, stop it.” I laughed. The few times I’d been forced to venture out on my own, I scoped out our apartment from the street, terrified I’d be preyed upon while alone.

“Right, right, your tour.” He held his hands up in defense.

The bathroom door was uncomfortably close to the living room, the back of the emerald patch-worked couch only a few feet from the foot of our bed. The feng shui was definitely off in here.

The narrow bathroom opened to the sink and mirror, vibrant burnt orange tile lined the walls, ashen brown floors accented by teals. Against the back wall was the muted teal tub, the closest heat source to love I’ve felt in these waiting months. I took the liberty of putting shelves of fake plants up, intent to one day try for a real plant.

Kenji wandered out of the bathroom, eyeing the square TV sat on a rolling stand. In the corner closest to the bathroom door sat the empty DVD stands, full boxes beside them.

He looked at me funny.

I felt… childish. Squeamish of things I once loved.

I now flinched at scenes I knew by heart. Viewed things in newer, harsher lights.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I looped back to the kitchen instead, seeing what I could scrounge up to eat. “I didn’t want risk watching them.” I said. Nearly every movie I owned was horror, or psychological, or any other genre that could even remotely remind me of Kenji. Hell, I threw on SLC Punk to try one day and ruined my whole week the second I saw something Kenji would wear. Aka, swiftly.

“Why’s that?” He held back laughing at me. “You didn’t get scared, did you?”

“No, No..” I trailed, attempting to gather the thought, “I was afraid of getting scared, because.. I don’t know. I’d be by myself, and it’d prove what happened really did change me.”

The laughter fell from his face, his expression a bit more serious.

“Everything’s going to change you, baby. You just have to put a cap on how much you allow it to and that it’s for the better.”

The first few hours he was home, time flew at the pace it was meant to. We chatted while he cooked dinner and then sat on the floor watching Halloweentown and unpacked the rest of our things together.

For the first time since my nosebleed put out that stupid candle, things felt normal again.

God, and this was him surviving. My life would’ve just halted forever if he actually died. I cut off the train of thought, the second time tonight relating to my, gag, mother.

Technically, he did die, though. The whole move funded by the hospital settling because he was mistaken for dead.. After the whole fiasco, the hospital knew if we really went to court we would’ve robbed them blind.

A commercial of moving steal beams and hard hats played and Kenji heaved a sigh.

“I have to find a new line of work, don’t I.” The answer he obviously wanted was a ‘no’, but I couldn’t give it to him.

“Did your doctor’s restrict you from anything? You’re cleared to work again, right?”

“They said to take it easy, limit sun exposure,… and stay out of construction.”

“Would you get your GED?” I asked.

Kenji slouched a bit and frowned, “Why would I do that?”

“It would help your options a lot,” I said, “Maybe you can go into fashion school for your knitting stuff or something?”

“I don’t know about all’at,” he dismissed. “I think I gotta go out and ask around.” Right, his odd jobs.

“Oh!” I remembered, “this bookstore down the road’s hiring, I was going to ask to interview for part time?”

“We can swing by in the morning,” he hummed, the concentrating scowl he had growing deeper, tongue fiddling with his lip piercing. He suddenly stopped and perked up. “You want a job?”

“Not really,” I said, “but normal people have jobs and make their living doing normal things. That, and I don’t think you should jump straight back into 40 hours.” We can be a team and each do part time.

“40 is a break.”

“Dude,” I warned. “I have an interview for a barista job lined up for the day after.”

“Ohhhh yeah, I’m going to go with and look around myself.”

We settled into bed. I watched TV securely in his arms, my back tucked against his chest and shoulder. Lazy fingers traced the stretch marks peaking out the sides of my waistband. His hands were colder than I remember.

The lull came so naturally I almost forgot he’d been gone at all, and the horrible why.

As much as I didn’t want to ruin the moment and reignite memories, the sooner we talked about it all, the better.

I’d been ruminating on something he said earlier, bothered into annoyance.

“I didn’t want to be alright on my own,” I muttered.

“What?” He sat up a bit against me, confused. “No, baby, that was a good thing. If something happens to me you should—“

“I don’t want something to happen to you! I didn’t want what did happen to you! And I was miserable without you. I-I slept through like 4 of those months. I wasn’t living well. Or at all. Not without you.”

Ken stayed quiet.

“—and when you were gone you were gone, ken.” I tried to keep my voice from raising, just trying to talk around the lump. We’ve known each other half our lives, and I could list things I truly knew about his life on one hand. How he treated me, how he loved me, but so little of his history. “If that was it, and you actually died there, you would’ve died as a stranger who just did really good things for me.” I sniffed, fighting against the response. “How can I remember someone I don’t know?” Months of realizing how much more he does for me than I do for him. Months of sadness, wondering why he’s got that quality in the first place. I wanted to respect his privacy and missed out on knowing him altogether.

Kenji didn’t answer for a moment, lost tracing the bedsheets. “I want you to know me. I do,” he struggled finding the words he needed.

“Okay,” I tried to play it cool, afraid I’d scare him right out of opening up.

However in the summer months I laid in bed fusing with his comforter, I lost my image of him. In place of smiling middle school memories stood screaming flashbacks of blood-dripping mouths, wounds.

“I want to know you,” I huffed.

“Y’know, you’re kinda hot when you’re mad. Can’t believe you’re so spoiled that I’ve never had to notice that,” he chuckled against the back of my ear, “I should get on your nerves more often.”

“If I knew becoming a size 12 and catty got it up I would’ve done both EONS ago,” I joked back, confused when he suddenly went rigid and manuevered to face me with an extraordinary sadness.

His hands took mine, encapsulatingly slow, black painted nails carassed the back of my hand as he watched where they met.

Kenji held my gaze with wetter eyes than I’ve ever seen. I tried to not feel disturbed.

This vulnerability.

He and I had always opted to make light of his Problem, back and forth with constant jokes. This was the first time he’d ever reacted negatively to something said about it. I expected him to respond with a cuck joke like he always did. This was new.

“The last thing I ever, ever, ever want is for you to feel like I don’t want you,” he blurted, “I want you every second of every Goddamned day and I’m so sorry I didn’t make it clear enough that I’m the problem. It’s me, okay?” His hand twitched. Tightening, untightening. “Okay?” the foreign crack of his voice sent a shock through my nerves.

This was also the first time I accidentally insinuated it could be from a lack of attraction. No! That’s not what I—

Unable to keep the eye contact, he laid his head in my lap, strained voice muffled.

“All I want is to keep you taken care of,” he said. “There’s— I know there’s something wrong with me, I know—“ against my leg I felt his chest sharply inhale, watching his back rise abruptly. “I can’t provide for you,” it came out softer, like he was sitting down in preparation to let himself slip down a rabbit hole.

“Hey!” I cut him off quick, “as you are as long as you’re alive, you have everything I need.” My lip tried to pout, “we’ll figure everything out.”

A lawn mower revving, water gurgling down a drain, even static TV. A low growl reverberated and cut through my dreams, pulling me towards wakefulness.

“Stop snoring.” I tried to maintain the grey sensation of heavy eyelids, swinging my arm behind me to nudge at him. Finally, normal couple issues.

I failed to make contact the first try, open air brushing my palm. I adjusted in the bed, preparing to aim but met with a cold breeze ghosting my body.

A warm wetness clung to my arms, side, shoulder and neck. A buzzing fluorescence added glowing orange hues to dreamy landscapes. The sound started up again, I sat up abruptly.

Our front door was wide open, the gas station-white light blinking in the hall.

Ew, what the hell is this?

In flashes of light, crimson poisoned the muted purple of Kenji’s side of the bed.

I baby-deer’d it to the light switch, flipped it on.

Not again. I looked down at my arms and clothes, coated in the same viscous color as the bed, goosebumps raised when the air and moisture began to mix into chills.

Under incessant buzzing of the hall’s light and the flies that swarmed, silence sang.

I swallowed the urge to call out for him. It wouldn’t do anything.

Holding my breath, I peered out into the hallway. I quickly checked that the corner still contained only a plant, then peered down the hall extending into the left’s darkness.

I exhaled.

Adrenaline sprinted through my veins. Any cloudiness from sleeping long evaporated.

I pressed my back to the front door as I shut, locked it. Nausea raced laps around my stomach when the overheard light reflected off slick puddles trailing across our bed’s fabrics, seeping into hardwood grain below.

It started in the bed, Kenji’s pillow soaked.

A bloodied 10-pound dumbbell rested on the nightstand beside his spotless hearing aids. A clump of unknown gelatinous tissue sat a few inches away.

What…

I was thankful to no longer experience morning sickness. Half of my fight for survival was against my own body, back in the restaurant.

“Ken?” I whispered, unable to restrain my desperation to find him. Fear was beginning to congest in my veins. His hearing aids… Ugh. I held my tight-lipped frown.

A flicker of movement poked out from the side of the bed.

I darted forward and threw myself to the ground, one hand grabbing the edge of the nightstand to slow my descent.

In a small pool of blood, Kenji laid face down.

A throaty rattle reverberated up through my shins from the floors we shared, a sign of life I told myself to be more grateful for than unnerved by.

“Are you awake— Okay?” I kept my voice down, unable to see any injuries from this angle.

Rather than in words, his response came in bubbles dancing across blood’s surface. I turned his head to give him air, afraid to move him yet in case of injury.

Twitching fingers turned to uncontrolled scratches against the floor. One of his legs lurched with disregard for his upended position, tucking under him with an awkward pop.

“Muh, Muh, Muh,” It escaped in a muffled exhale.

His wet skin and jerky movements made it difficult to keep him in my grasp, he pushed off from the floor in a downward dog sort of way.

I slipped back onto my ass scrambling to meet him.

Owww. My hip complained.

Kenji towered over me on uneasy legs, his head eclipsing the light and his body leaning in directions that challenged gravity.

Blood coated his face from his hair, still no injury seen.

I put my arms up to brace for impact. Unfixed, glassy eyes settled on me.

“What’s gotten into you?” He hasn’t done this in years, but I shouldn’t be surprised he returned with the same bad habits.

…That can’t be your blood.

He didn’t answer, his eyes drifted away me. I might’ve heard creaking if he moved any slower.

I followed his eyes.

The brick wall perpendicular to us.

I KILLED HER.