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retreated into herself.
      She backed away, feeling sad even though she knew better than to . What was the point?
      Lola stopped near the door , pretending she hadn’t just said that . “I can’t hang out tonight . I have to work. Remember?”
      Her eyes dropped, another little sliver of life seemed to slip from her, dimming her. “Oh. That’s right. I thought you had Thursdays off usually.”
      I do. Lola closed her eyes, torn . I want you back, Mom, I want you back. But you’re not her anymore. I don’t know you.
      She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.” I’m sorry our lives are the way they are. I’m sorry you’re not strong enough. I’m sorry you don’t love me enough. I’m sorry I’m not enough.
      Lola walked out the door , wanting to escape her mother’s pain and sadness, wanting to escape the house, Bob , her life. Her mother’s disappointment was like a heavy weight in the air and it was stifling .
      She couldn’t stay there, she couldn’t be there. Part of her wanted to leave, to run away and never return. Some fledgling sense of loyalty wouldn’t allow her to leave her mother, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be around her either. It hurt too much. And she was so angry with her. She hated what she had become almost as much as she hated Bob .
    * **
      The outside air was refreshing after the stale interior of the house. The sun was lowering in the sky, turning the horizon into pretty shades of pink and orange.
      Images of her mother haunted Lola as she walked down the streets of Morgan Creek. The tinkle of her laughter, the sparkle in her blue eyes. The way she used to hold Lola close and whisper she loved her.
      She almost turned back. Lola yearned to rush into her mother’s arms and be held. To hold her mother like she used to. She couldn’t. Her mother was tainted by Bob ’s touch and scent. It wasn’t her anymore. Lola had to keep reminding herself of that .
      Tears flowed down her cheeks, warm against her cool flesh.
      Not for the first time she ached for her father. Benjamin Murphy had died of a brain aneurism when he wa s twenty-eight and she was four . All he was to her was a photograph of a young man whose chin and nose she’d inherited; someone whose memory her mother’s eyes and voice softened over. A distant memory almost completely faded from her mind. Someone, who if he still lived, would have made Lola’s life so very different from the way it was .
      From what her mother had told her, he’d been a good man. Lola didn’t trust her mother’s definition of what a good man was. But she liked to believe he had been. She liked to believe he would have loved her and never hurt her. What few pictures she’d seen of him and Lola together told her he had. Lola could take some comfort from that.
      There was a longing within her for a father she would never know. Bob being his replacement made it all that much more unbearable.
      Lola found herself at the creek the town was named after. It ran through the middle of town and met up with the Mississippi River at some point. C hildren liked to fish in it. There was a cemented path on the side of it people walked or rode bikes on.
      She stared into the gray water and listened to the sound of it lapping . It soothed her. Her eyes closed and she held herself still. A sense of p eace slowly encompassed her and Lola exhaled.
      Just another year. She had one more year to get through and then she could leave. Maybe Lola could leave as soon as she turned eighteen in September . Where would she go? She had no othe r relatives. At least none her mother talked to.
      Lola vaguely remembered an aunt; her father’s sister. She didn’t know anything about her and her mother never brought her up. Lola sensed something had happened be tween the two of them and that wa s why she was just a faceless being Lola didn’t know.
      A familiar, cruel giggled sounded behind her. Lola stiffened,