Lo. Li. Ta. Lo-li-ta. Lolita.
I remember ten years ago when I first picked up that book. I spread open its cover and dove deep into the story within. The story of a pedophile as he pleads his case to the jury. And I can't help thinking: what if he truly was the victim?
Suppose Dolores Haze, the 12 year old girl, did in fact seduce Humbert Humbert, the pedophile protagonist. I wonder if she spread her legs that first time in the motel room and invited him closer? I wonder if she had calculated that his agreeing to this act would put him in a vulnerable position in which she could take advantage of him? I wonder if she had composed this plot from the moment she realized the infatuation in his eyes?
I picture her now, naked and vulnerable, lying her head on her elbow, hip on the bed, motioning her finger towards Humbert Humbert, tempting him, feeding that passionate fire igniting in his pants, rolling her eyes back into her head as she rolls onto her back, moaning, calling for Humbert Humbert, spreading her legs as an invitation--a welcome mat, a party, a rat trap. She slowly, silently, rolls out of bed, away from the sleeping Humbert Humbert. The deed done, she goes to the bathroom to clean up. She grabs a towel and hops into the shower, already bare from her act moments ago. As she washes away the filth, the shame, the guilt, she begins to plot her next move against her Solus Rex.
After fierce scrubbing, she dries her fragile 12 year old frame, puts on panties and a summer dress, and then sits cross-legged in the chair in the corner of the room, watching her Humbert Humbert as he continues to sleep.
She grins as she watches her prey. Patiently waiting, she begins to draft the Utopia in her head: a lollipop to start, one of those massive ones bigger than her head; next, a road trip far away so her Mom can’t interrupt her extended holiday from school; a stop by the beach with a new one-piece and a giant inflatable; a trip to Disneyland to try out every ride that they have.
As Humbert Humbert slowly opens his eyes, she stands up, getting his attention, and then walks towards the phone. She begins to dial a phone number, but before ringing the last key, she glares at Humbert Humbert, and tells him that unless he does everything he wants her to, she will call the authorities and tell them that he had sex with her against her will.
Jumping out of bed, Humbert Humbert, in an obviously anxious state, tries to coax Dolores away from the phone. But she just continues to stare him down, and then begins to list her demands. Humbert Humbert begins to get a sinking feeling as he realizes his mistaking in choosing to fuck this girl: although he is a pedophile, he is not a murderer. He lowers his head in defeat as he concedes to Dolores Haze that he will do whatever she wants him to.
I can see it as a possible reality behind the story of Lolita. I remember back when I was in elementary school how so many children could be total demons.
I remember once back in grade three when my best friend Cady refused to give the candy bar from her lunch to this other girl in our class, Regina. Regina, in an attempt to re-establish herself as the queen bee and Cady as simply her underling, ran running, tears streaming down her face, to our teacher exclaiming that Cady just told her to “Fuck off”. That day, Cady had to stay after school for an hour long detention. The teacher refused to believe that Regina would make such a thing up about Cady, and informed Cady’s parents about her supposed behaviour. Cady’s parents similarly had difficulties believing that a grade 3 would pin such a thing on a fellow classmate, and thus grounded Cady for a week. I didn’t see Cady after school until late the next week. When we finally met up again, she broke down and starting crying because nobody believed her. She decided that she was never going
Oh, I can hear the food cart rattling by. I guess that means it must be about half past noon now. I really wish they would bring in some food for me too. It feels like I haven’t eaten anything in forever. I’ve stopped keeping track of when I last ate something; in fact, I can’t even recall what day it is today.
I wonder what they’re serving here. Do they actually serve mushy peas, mashed potates, and rubber steak like they do on television? I hope not. When I get to eat again, I am craving something a little more elegant. Something like a five course meal: Caesar salad, French onion soup, roast duck with asparagus, filet mignon with sautéed mushrooms, and tirumisu with a side of French vanilla ice cream. Or maybe turkey instead of duck. I wonder if Thanksgiving is approaching. Or maybe it’s already past.
Oh my God. I’m really feeling that turkey right about now. I swear my mouth is watering. Turkey. Stuffing. Gravy. The Holy Trinity. Top it off with mashed potatoes, spam, asparagus with bacon bits, pumpkin pie with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, and you have Heaven on the table. If I were capable of drooling right now, I swear I would be drooling...
FAT
ReplyDelete