My Lola: Love of My Life

By Helena Pekar and TBD

“A BREATHTAKING, SEXY, ADDICTIVE AND TASTEFULLY VULGAR CONTEMPORARY NOVEL. I COULD NOT PUT THIS BOOK DOWN! I HOPE IT TURNS INTO A MOVIE!” - Ben Israeli, Senior Police Constable

Follow Senior Detective Joseph Marshall on his journey to find the love of his life Lola King from whom he was separated under unu

• Language: English
• Publisher: HenryTheCat Publishing
• Release date: Mar 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648699316

Helena Pekar

Helena Pekar was born in Uzbekistan, grew up in Israel and currently resides in Melbourne, Australia. Helena enjoys travel and camping, a bonfire meal and a blanket cuddle by the river, the taste of green tea up high in the mountains and the feeling you get when something you really wanted just happens!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Loneliness

DOCTOR JOHNSON’S CLINIC, Lynette speaking. How can I help you? gently asked a young female voice on the phone.

I suddenly realized it was after 5 p.m. and started scanning the room in search for clues… Maybe I drifted for a little while, I am not too sure.

The sun was already setting. I stood watching it coming down as the last rays of sunlight broke through the thin white curtain like thieves, covering my face with a warm golden light.

I heard the ticking behind my back and clicked. It’s evening… Crap! I yelled inside my head and moved away from the clock.

A soft playful breeze came as a pleasant surprise and moved the curtain away from the window, seductively exposing the view of three flowering and juicy-red bottlebrush trees outside my apartment. The breeze broke soothingly and sensually upon my hot, sunburnt skin… kissing me softly and longingly like a grieving widow.

Covered in goosebumps and sweat, I lit up a cigarette with my last match in anticipation. They are still open… I acknowledged in surprise as she spoke.

I was pretty sure this clinic never worked so late and was going to hang up, thinking that my call would not be answered. I took a chance by staying on the line a little longer—delaying my reactions while watching the rings of cigarette smoke fade away.

Somehow, they were still there. But why? Who cares? I asked and answered myself. The operator was still there, but I kept shamelessly surrendering to the soft, seductive, and drugging kisses of the wind on my body. I closed my eyes and listened to the love songs of birds outside my window and couldn’t say a word.

I hated everything about this day… It was humid, sweltering, and very rushed. I was completely exhausted already, and yet there was another job I had to go to.

When the young girl took my phone call, I was lost for what felt like eternity. I think at the exact moment her voice broke through the silence, I was standing in the bathroom looking at my face in the cracked mirror, hopelessly trying to stretch my forehead wrinkles and hold on to the feeling that I was finally not alone for at least those few minutes.

I swear I never felt so miserable, full of self-pity and so excited and relieved at the same time, like at that moment, when the heartbreaking rings finally stopped, and I heard a human voice.

Mmm… a voice! How old is this girl? I wondered, moving the phone from shoulder to shoulder. I got giddy and playful inside at the simple fact of this unexpected interaction and smiled, taking the cigarette out of my mouth.

She sounds eighteen… not more!… Lucky girl… I remember thinking. Happy girl …

I placed the cigarette in the ashtray and grinned at myself again as this thought of her youth crossed my mind. I stood there leaning forward and looking at myself more closely, repeating in my head again and again, Happy girl. Happy girl. Happy girl.

A part of me knew she was waiting for my hello just to get this dialogue flowing. But the part of my brain that was capable of this action was locked in a daydream.

What does she know about life yet? I wondered, And when the hell did I even smash this damn glass? I kept battling inside.

Lost in thoughts, I almost forgot that there was someone hanging on the line and losing patience… and then I heard this voice again. Hello? Sir… are you there? the young girl asked, sounding a little less happy this time. I was there but couldn’t say a word. I felt like a creep and didn’t care…

The notes of her voice joined the sweet saxophone music coming from the kitchen radio and played on the strings of my heart like angels on a harp.

What a feeling. Mmmm… I reached out for my glass of whiskey and enjoyed myself just a little bit longer, reflecting on that soft part of me that I completely forgot I had.

A sip of my favorite drink made me sick instantly. Weak piece of shit! I shouted at myself inside in disappointment and anger.

After all these years, the soft music, the fading rays of sunlight, the fucking birds, the heat, and this girly young voice made me weak to my core and hopelessly tired.

You have to say something, Joe! I pulled myself out last minute. Yes, I am sorry. I’m here. I forced myself to speak and keep focused, which was becoming harder and harder after each episode.

Would you like to make an appointment, sir? the girl asked.

I… I… I mumbled in return. I knew I had to say yes and make this appointment, but I chickened out. For now-obvious reasons, it was harder than I expected. It was goddamn hard as fuck to admit that I had a problem. It was one of the hardest things I had ever done, Lola.

Yes, please, I finally replied, stupidly worrying that she might just hang up on me and leave me there alone with a beeping phone in my hand again. I took another sip from my whiskey, allowing the drink to soothe my throat and burn some bad bacteria.

I started feeling lighter right before she asked, When would you like to come, sir? Oh… this question. Her voice, my mind, the whiskey, the time… I was not allowed to, but my mood had changed again, and all the new mood wanted was just to flirt away with this chick and offer her to catch up with me right away instead of booking me in to see a shrink. I knew this was the bad part of me… The selfish and lust-driven asshole Joe. I was certainly not proud of it, but I have learned to accept this part of me, because back then I thought I simply had no other choice.

I didn’t know her, and for that particular moment, it didn’t matter to me. Nothing did. Loneliness does it to you… (Spoiler alert, darling, I didn’t do it! Nothing happened.)

Please put me in for whenever he is next available. I thoughtlessly said he, avoiding the word doctor. My ego tried pushing away the sad truth that I was losing control and going more and more insane with each day.

Dr. Alannah Johnson will see you tomorrow at ten o’clock, said the girl. I was sure I could sense that she was smiling with a naughty sense of feministic victorious satisfaction as she slowly pronounced the name Alannah and not Robert, Michael, or Sebastian. Personally, I couldn’t give less of a fuck if my shrink was going to be a male, a female, or something in-between. But she obviously thought that I was some kind of a chauvinistic schmuck, which made me try even harder to imagine her smile as she was talking.

I also moved my hand across my chest for no particular reason. Three, two, one… And she lost me again. Touching old tattoos, old scars, and sweat in front of the broken mirror, I saw the patches of white hair on my face, and at the pale color of my dry lips, I disconnected. Take a goddamn shower, you stinky prick! I thought as kinky images of this girl kept coming to my mind. Her hair… her eyes… her lips… her hips… her breasts. I know, it’s silly, but I was trying to imagine what she could look like… and my thoughts just drifted away and went wild.

Sorry, I added, automatically trying to navigate my way back into the phone call. I thought it would be a man, not a woman. A Robert or a Gregory… Not an Alannah… But I am glad it’s Alannah. I am… I said to her, adding a nervous giggle and trying to rescue myself from the hole I dug. With each word, I realized more and more that I was making it worse. But at least, to a degree, I didn’t lie. It did relax me a lot to know that my psychiatrist would be a woman because I was broken, and my ego struggled to bear the feeling of crying on another man’s shoulder.

Have you been with us before, sir? asked the lady.

No, this will be my first time, I said, playfully imitating a virgin and secretly thinking that I had probably been with at least one lady from this clinic in the past ten years. Damn… I wanted to add a naughty comment so bad. I really did.

Can I please have your full name and contact phone number for this booking, sir? the girl asked, completely ignoring my poor attitude.

Good girl. Well done! I thought, impressed by her controlled manners. Sure. My name is Stephen Davidson, and my number is 0491 570 158, I responded respectfully, making it up on the go.

Thank you, Mr. Davidson! Have a wonderful night, and we will see you tomorrow, she said and paused, awaiting my final confirmation.

I did not give her my real contact details. I wanted to say something silly and keep her on the line a bit longer. Wanted to ask her not to hang up just yet… But… Thank you kindly, Lynette, you too… I replied instead, feeling the air around me filling up again with dreadful emptiness.

After hanging up, I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror for another minute, looking at the sweat covering my forehead, neck, and eyelids. Then I wiped the sweat off with my dirty hand, holding a cigarette between my fingers and leaving a dirty mark between my nose and left cheek.

I kept looking in the mirror, smoking and taking another sip from my glass of whiskey, swallowing the ice cubes and licking my lips like a thirsty cat.

Damn… The thoughts of that girl surely turned me on big time that night.

What the hell are you looking at now, Joe? I asked myself. For a moment, I realized I wasn’t sure if I was looking at myself in the mirror or at the mirror itself, and this was one of the signs of my spiral… (We will get to it soon.)

Behind that mirror were my sleeping pills. The truth is that back then, most nights I couldn’t sleep without them.

Sleeping pills… I repeated to myself, unwillingly opening my secret cupboard and carefully looking at the box before grabbing it and putting it back unopened. Usually I needed them like air and water. Usually… but not that night. Tonight, I won’t need you guys! I thought, closing back the cupboard. Tonight, I got work to do! I giggled, realizing I said these words out loud… Then I took off my shirt, turned on the hot water tap, and let the water run and fill the air with hot steam.

Remember I mentioned it was a boiling hot day? It was! But I still desperately needed to feel the hot water on my skin… After the hot water, (I planned in my head) I will turn on the cold water, and I will stand under the cold stream until I feel alive and recharged again. This was how I always had my shower back then. These days, I don’t do that anymore.

CHAPTER 2

The Funeral

YOU THINK TOO MUCH TODAY, Joe, just get it over with for fuck’s sake… I told myself, undoing my shoes. I thought about the day I’d had. About the girl on the phone, about my appointment tomorrow, about my loneliness, and about this odd mood I was in. Was it the music? It must be the fucking music! I thought. The sounds of a piano increased, beating and punching my soul and slowly pulling my heart out of its nest.

I had many thoughts running through my head that night, but most of all I was thinking about my next case. I didn’t know and couldn’t ever know who it was going to be this time… If only I knew it was going to be you, Lola… If only I knew!

The last drop of whiskey came straight from the bottle. I finally took off my pants, slowly starting to adjust the temperature and trying out the water with my hand.

Look at you, dirty old bastard, said Aaron, coming through and slamming the door shut with his leg.

I heard you coming up the stairs, I said, knowing he wasn’t listening.

Have you got any beer? he asked.

In the fridge. Top shelf as always. Help yourself, I said to him and heard the fridge door open instantly. I was just about to have a shower. I won’t be long, I added.

No time for a shower, bro! We’ve got to go now, said Aaron, waving a brown envelope in his hand.

How much tonight? I asked, pretending I didn’t care whose picture he was holding.

Enough to keep you keen, princess! he replied, walking into the bathroom with his beer and scratching his fake mustache while leaning against the wall. He always used to wear this stupid fake mustache and always scratched it when he knew he was talking shit. What childish behavior. Was it even smart to give him a job? I wondered.

Another thin envelope… another broken life… another hungry week… I caught myself thinking. Sometimes our job just didn’t make sense to me at all.

I just finished working in the garden and cleaning Madam Rosie’s garage, I replied with a satisfied smile he couldn’t see, anticipating his predictable reaction as I was finally standing under the running water.

What? he yelled.

I got to take a shower, dude, I said, feeling how my mind was starting to play tricks on me again.

Madam Rosie? yelled Aaron. Who the fuck is Madam Rosie? Are we into oldies now, bro? He went on and on… even though he knew who she was.

I needed a distraction very much, and it came in handy… Madam Rosie is my neighbor, Aaron. She is eighty-five years old, and she lives by herself in this crappy neighborhood, so I am helping her here and there… I was happy to explain this to him because it served as an anchor, keeping me present in the moment. But that didn’t last too long… The chain broke and the boat left the bay…

Why the fuck is he talking like he doesn’t know who she is? I asked myself but didn’t get a chance to think it through. Not a full moment had passed, and he cynically yelled, This is fabulous! You are my hero, bro! and took another bottle of beer out of the fridge. Okay then… wash that shit off quick. I don’t want to spend the whole night smelling your new granny rose perfume.

Thank you, Aaron, I replied. I knew you would understand. I ignored the surprised look on his face three times. I knew what he was thinking. I knew he had noticed the change in me and knew he’d never ask about it, no matter what.

You see, he was one of these guys who just won’t ask… He’d give you a beer and a lift home. He’d take you to the bar and to the ball game and tell you stupid jokes all night… He’d even take a bullet for you, if he loved you, and help you at your hardest time! But he’d never ever ask how you feel or show his feelings to you. That was Aaron, and I always loved this special quality of his.

Maybe if I had known that this was going to be our last meeting for a very long time, I would have told him that. I wonder how he would react… I thought about him and this situation a little longer before stepping out of the shower…

I had no idea how much time had passed! I had a near-episode in the shower as I stood under the running water with my eyes closed. I was listening to the remote sounds of music mixed with Aaron’s drunk singing and the water drops breaking upon the black shower curtain. Everything around me was real and normal and yet felt so strange and detached… Almost as if something really bad was about to happen.

Should I tell Aaron I am going to see a specialist? I pondered. Nah… It’s a shit idea… I don’t think so. I stopped, stood on the shower rug, and imagined Aaron’s reaction to the word specialist if I was to mention it. A funny picture came to mind and made me fill with love for him and laugh out loud.

Hey, bro! I think you should cry not laugh. I’ve seen it once, remember? I heard him yelling out, referring to my dick. Thousands of funny memories came to life in my head! Aaron and I compared our dicks every year since first or second grade, and I was always bigger. I’d known him over thirty years, and he never changed one bit since the first time I met him at the funeral. I remember this day as if it only happened yesterday… I will tell you about this in a second.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I realized I could no longer hear Aaron sing.

I also still could not tell how long I had been in the shower for… Had I had another episode that night? I don’t know. Anyhow… here is how I remember meeting Aaron:

It was only early winter, yet it had been steadily raining all week. My stepfather Frank couldn’t stop swearing at the weather forecast girl on TV and kept blaming the local newspaper for their boring stupid articles. My mom baked and cooked all day, as if she was planning to feed the entire neighborhood…

The news came on the Saturday morning. Our street was flooded. There was mud and dirt everywhere, and I had to carry our little dog Moses up the hill every time it needed to take a shit. The city was packed with SES volunteers in orange, high visibility uniforms. And not only the SES, there were people with uniforms everywhere, helping and rescuing people from cars and falling trees and assisting policemen. I remember tradesmen running around offering help to the emergency services, and I clearly remember the paramedic team that came first on that day to triage the area, even though back then I didn’t know what it really meant.

There was an old man with a big calming smile on his face who saw me coming down the hill with Moses in my hands, fascinated by the sirens and the colorful tapes. He said, Go home, little boy, go to your mommy and daddy, and gave me the warmest and friendliest pat on the back I ever received.

I remember running back home still carrying Moses, who couldn’t help barking in my ears and licking the air, spraying his saliva around.

I opened the door with my keys and found a note on the fridge saying, Joe, honey, we went to see Grandpa and Grandma, we’ll be back soon. It was written in my mom’s perfectly shaped, smooth and soft, curved handwriting and even still had her scent. Grandpa and Grandma lived only a few blocks away, but I knew that Mom cooked a lot of food for them, so she and Frank obviously had to drive.

I remember leaving Moses on the floor and running back out like crazy! It was my only chance to see some action. If Mom and Frank were home, they’d never let me go back out, and I’d probably get grounded or punished if I did, but they were not there…

The first thing I saw when I came back to the scene was a red car, just like the one we had. It was smashed between a moving van and a brick wall, standing deep in flood water. I was told not to look. I was told the paramedics did everything they could, but it was too late for these people. Apparently, the drunk bus driver had lost control and crashed into a standing truck, pushing the truck to the middle of the road as these people were driving downhill in the storm. Their car was thrown onto the brick wall, and they both died immediately. They had no chance to come out of this alive.

I could hardly see, hear, or understand anything. I remember clearly that, by the time I was noticed again by the volunteers, I already knew about twelve more people who were injured in similar horrible accidents because of the heavy flood that day.

A young volunteer with a strange accent asked me all sorts of random questions and disappeared into the crowd of passersby. After a short while, he came back with my grandpa Eric, who took me to their house.

I could hear Grandpa’s voice shaking and his hand held mine so hard I wanted to scream. I remember asking my grandma if my mom and Frank were there as she opened the door. I was all excited, as I wanted to complain to them right then and there about Moses and tell them about the flood, and the accident… then explain to them once more that I was sick and tired of carrying Moses up and down all day… But my grandma didn’t answer. She just hugged me close as she could and broke out in tears.

I think for some time after that I even lived with them, but I can’t recall for sure how long or if at all. They probably started to get really old… I could not recall what happened to them and could not recall what happened to me after that, either. Years later, their little flat was renovated and put on auction, so I bought it. What happened in between? I don’t know. College? Practice? Army? An entire part of my life suddenly erased itself. Strange, don’t you think?

I was trying to remember the particular moment Aaron stopped singing. I got angry at the fact that I did not notice such a critical moment! Fucking brain fog! I thought—and fell back into my childhood almost instantly while shaving, and dived even deeper while I was brushing my teeth...

I remembered that after that accident, I got my very first suit. My grandpa styled my hair nicely and gave me his watch. I remember him saying that I had to be strong, and I clearly remember that he couldn’t answer if my mom and Frank were coming with us to the funeral. I guess I wasn’t fast enough to understand, and they could not find the right words to explain to a child what really fucking happened, without making shit worse. I remember the confusion and the sick feeling. I remember how my fingers started searching for a side pocket on my jacket and how I suddenly noticed the small white flower.

A white flower… I thought, while brushing my hair to the side and spraying cologne in front of the big cracked mirror. I took a cigarette and a lighter in my hand. I clearly and brightly remembered this white flower! I remembered losing it while playing football with Aaron.

Anyhow… when we came to the graveyard, I noticed about thirty people gathered around in silence… most of whom I had never met before but who seemed to know or remember me from somewhere. I recall them all wearing black, except for one dude who didn’t even seem interested in the whole thing. I remember them looking at me in sorrow…

My grandpa and grandma pulled me aside and got down on their knees in front of me. I remember being in complete shock. It was such unusual behavior for a classy couple who used to iron their bed sheets… I did not see this coming. Even as a child, I remember finding it strange. I remember them talking about my parents, but cannot recall what exactly they were saying, as I got distracted by a little boy about my age who stood only a few