Some Girls, Some Girls, Some Girls
Another time, perhaps one of the times I’d seen Lola almost at her angriest, was after our friend Margot had been joking about being held down by a guy who refused to let her go when she asked him to stop. I didn’t explicitly say no, Margot explained, as Lola sat gaping at her. You didn’t need to, Lola responded, too quickly, seeing as it happened to Margot, and not her. Pulling the things out of her bag that she needed to roll herself a cigarette, she asked, distractedly, did he know you didn’t want to have sex with him? I think he thought I was joking when I- Lola looks up at her. When I told him I was too tired, Margot said quietly, staring down into her drink now. Uncomfortably aware that her story was being taken seriously. So what, he thought holding you down and having sex with you would wake you up a bit? I, um. Margot is looking uncomfortable now, but Lola presses on, oblivious or otherwise unbothered that Margot had only meant this st...