Part 2 of Lola's Story. Everyone is over 18 and story is a fictional story.
When I got out of the shower, I looked at my phone. It was three in the morning, and I was hoping for my uncle, and Jesus had gone to bed. I didn't want to face them again. I wish I had acted like I didn't know what they were talking about. My reaction to their comments was a dead giveaway to what they thought happened. I quickly got dressed and slowly opened the bathroom door. They were both still in the living room. 'What the Fuck' was the only thought in my head.
When I got to the living room, I was trying to think of something to say to divert them from thinking what happened didn't actually happen. "You guys shouldn't let him drink that. He's fuckin clumsy and falls all over the place. He's going to hurt himself. Uncle Pedro, thank you for offering me your bedroom. But if I wasn't in his room, he would have split his head open. I was waiting for one of you to help pick him up from the floor. Stop drinking every fucking night!" I was hoping they would buy this story. They aren't the brightest people in the world, plus they were drunk.
I patiently waited for a response as I stared at them, attempting to read their facial expressions. Finally, Pedro told me, "Sorry, Lola. He gets sloppy when he drinks and doesn't know what he do." Jesus just shrugged his shoulders.
I played along with the story; now that I thought they were buying it, "No problem, Uncle Pedro. I worry about him."
Pedro got up and gave me a hug. Telling me, "We know. We know. You care about him."
I felt relieved as I believed they bought my story. I headed back into my dad's bedroom, this time leaving the bedroom door open. As I entered, I could see he was still asleep. I climbed into the bed next to him, resting on my elbow, staring at him. Alone, with my thoughts of everything that had just happened. I felt dirty and ashamed of myself. Three thoughts continuously went through my head. How did I let this happen? What is wrong with me? And, most importantly, why did I enjoy it so much? I knew I was not going to be able to sleep, no matter how much I tried. Suddenly, my dad opened his eyes. He whispered, with a big smile, "Hi, Lola."
I hesitated, searching his eyes to see if he remembered what we did. Finally, I replied, "Hi, Papi." Still, I was waiting for something from him to see if he was aware of what we had just done. The silence was awkward. I didn't know if I wanted him not to remember so we could pretend it never happened. Or, if he remembers, would he expect me to do it again? My brain felt like it was going to explode.
"Did you enjoy your shower?" he asked.
This question sent a shock through my body. He knew what we did. I stared at him as he smiled at me, trying to think of a response. "Yes, I did. I needed a shower after what we did. I felt dirty."