I had by now probably heard the complete life story of Lola Davidson. Ever since we walked from the park, all the way to her house, we had talked. About ourselves, mainly. You see, Lola had always been a open and honest woman. That's what she told me, at least. She had worked her butt off to become a teacher, which was a great dream of hers. Unfortunately, she was fired recently. She never got married, but a night with a stranger in a club resulted in her daughter, Claire. She had no contact with the father, and didn't wish to have any. "Why not?" I had asked. "What's the point? He didn't want to be with me, so why should I reach out to him?" Her response brought a lump to my throat. "Now," she said, as she was getting us some more coffee. "What's your story?" Claire was sitting on the floor, playing with a pink teddy bear. First she looked at Lola, then her eyes found me.
"Well. I'm afraid there's not much to say. I'm seventeen, turning eighteen in two months. I don't go to any school, I live alone in a shitty apartment, and I work as a cashier. My mom's been sending me a bit of money now and then, to keep me in the house. She's not interested in seeing me, though." I took a sip from the cup that Lola had just given me.
"It's complicated. I've never had a close relationship with neither my mom nor my dad. My dad died three years ago. Funny story, that was actually how I met my boyfriend Ja-"
I couldn't bring myself to say his name. I was not ready for that yet.
"Uh, my ex. Anyway, I was kind of bummed out after my dad died even though we weren't that close. So to put my mind to something else, I joined a drama club. That's where I met him."
"Tell me about your ex. What happened between the two of you?"
I could feel my chest getting heavier, as the memories of Jack and I together flashed through my mind.
"We.. I thought we were gonna last forever, to be honest. He cheated on me, three times. I forgave him each time. He brought me flowers, took me out for dinner. He loved me. Or so I thought, at least. The past few weeks he seemed.. off. He wasn't himself. I confronted him about it, asked him what was going on. He said he had met someone else. Someone special. He wanted to be with her. Now I'm sitting here with his name stuck on my arm, while he's telling another girl how much he loves her."
The tears had already started coming down halfway through my pathetic little story. Lola was kneeling next to me, hugging me.
"I'm gonna call a cab, so you can get home, sweety. I'll give you my number so you can give me a call anytime you want."
I nodded, and Lola got out to call a cab. I wiped my tears away once again. I looked at his name on my arm. It was a classic "arrow through the heart with a name on it" tattoo. He never got one of my name.