At this exact second, somewhere in Austin, TX, Kevin Horowitz wakes from the best dream he’s ever had.
These corresponding moments are not incidental, for Lola and Kevin share a connection deeper than the one they already know exists. An intricate web of a million moments striving for a great point.
Like a zombie smelling blood, Lola sits up, coldly pries her lips from her boss’ near ready to unload dick and starts walking towards her desk.
Three years of being this asshole’s assistant. Three years of picking up his dry cleaning, his coffee, his girlfriend’s birth control pills, his Viagra. Three years of having her job held over her head for an end all goal she could not see.
Three years of no longer knowing who she was.
The adrenaline running through her system completely overshadows the reality that only $300 exists in her bank account and that she, in fact, has no idea what she will do for a job.
“What the fuck, Lola!?” She hears in a sharp whimper as her boss tries salvaging what is left of his orgasm.
Without looking back, Lola grabs her purse and P-Touch label maker off her desk, labels her computer screen, “I quit”, and walks straight out the door.
For reasons unbeknown to him at the time, Kevin is not surprised to get that phone call from Lola at 2AM on March 20th.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, actually I just woke up right before you called. What’s up? Everything ok?”
A steady stream of giggling on the other line.
“Lola, are you drunk?”
“I DID IT!”
“Oh God, you didn’t break into Bill Cosby’s house like you said you would, did you?”
“I quit my job!”
“I did it! I quit my job. I think I’m going to move to Austin!”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, partner. You’ve said that about four times this year alone.”
“I’m not kidding. Jason’s girlfriend wants to move in. She can take over my rent. I’m coming to Austin. I’m done. I’m so done with this business, Kevin…. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
More laughing. Then crying. Then a bunch of puking.
“I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM!”
Kevin is not unaccustomed to these sort of phone calls. They had been occurring with frequent acceleration and fervor as of late.
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE!”
He typically waits as Lola gets the fit out of her system. However, this one is going a lot longer than anticipated.
“NOBODY LOVES ME!”
“Everybody loves you, Lola. Hush now. “Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes…”
The crying stops.
“Are you singing Billy Joel to me?”
“Yes, I was trying to get you to shut up.”
“Do you know what that song is about?! It’s about how people die, but lullabies live forever. It’s about a father who loves his daughter so much that he created this song for her to show that their love will never die.”
Then the crying starts again. This times it’s a guttural, heaving sort of moan and Kevin realizes it’s going to be a long night.
It’s 4AM before Lola falls asleep in mid-recitation of Norma Desmond’s curtain call and Kevin can not go back to sleep.
Could she finally be moving to Austin? Could he, Kevin Horowitz; musician, video store clerk, 5’8″ scrappy half-Jew from Cincinnati, finally tell her, Lola Milstein; writer, former personal assistant, 5’9″ neurotic full-Jew from the San Fernando Valley, that it is she who prevents him from loving anyone else? That ever since that day in college he’s been doomed to a lifetime of vapid relationships all unwittingly manipulated by the ventriloquist hands of Lola?
Nah. Maybe he’ll just write another song about it.
Lola recorded fifteen mixed CDs for her drive across route 10 from California to Texas. Such an epic move deserves no less and she made sure to musically prepare for each mood, each state, and each flea bag motel she would be experiencing. As she watches the skyline of Los Angeles get smaller and smaller in her rear view mirror and the tears make it more difficult to see, she decides that the CD titled, “How to Disappear Completely”, is best suited for her exit.
She puts on her Wayfarers and mourns the Los Angeles she never experienced.