Roxy Sings the Blues

by Ellie Mack

  “You’re really gonna let me?” Chad asked, his eyes huge, a hopeful grin on his face.

  I slowly peeled my shirt off over my head and tossed it. His eyes grew even larger. I reached behind me to unclasp my bra hearing the hitch in his breath. I held the bra in place for a few seconds making him wait. I nodded slowly, teasing him. I knew he had a thing for large breasts.

  He was always flirting with me, I doubt that he even knew what color my eyes were as nothing registered above my tits.

  Things progressed quickly, whether it was the alcohol, the pent-up frustrations, or chemistry, I don’t know. That part of me that felt as if I was cheating on Devon, I ignored. He had dumped me. He wasn’t ready to be tied down. That comment stung my pride and I suppose that a big part of the whole Chad episode was revenge.

  I enjoyed the physical act immensely, but Chad wasn’t Devon and a part of me felt cheap. He made me come alive, feel sexy, and attractive. What a heady feeling after the pit of despair that Devon’s sudden break up had plunged me into.

  There was a rapid knock on the door, not allowing a Moment to pull the covers up or move. Devon swung the door open saying “Hey, Chad, we’re leaving. I’ve got to get Phoebe home” then he froze. My eyes flew open, turning to look at Devon at that exact moment. He added a trailing ‘early’ at that point. He looked at me with such venom and disgust, I fought to keep the tears back. Devon slowly closed the door and left. My heart sank.

  He may have moved on, but I still carried a torch for him. After graduation, I hadn’t seen Devon until today. It still hurt to remember that look of disgust, the way he dumped me with no more care than flipping a switch. It reminded me to talk with Tara about him so she wouldn’t be hurt by his callousness as well.

  CHAPTER 6

  I spit into the sink, rinsing my mouth before gargling. As the dread of doing this horrible deed built inside me, I could feel my stomach tighten to the point that I nearly felt ill. I would rather run a full marathon than call my father. It didn't help that I had already gone through my mental list a couple of times, dropping this task to a lower priority each time. Now, I have come full circle to having to deal with it.

  I wiped down the sink, tossed the towels into the hamper, and then stared at my reflection trying to talk myself into tackling this monumental deed. After several seconds, I took a deep breath. I told my reflection to stop being a baby and get on with it.

  I moved to my bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed and checked my phone once again for messages from Luke, but there was nothing. I didn’t know whether to be upset, angry, or concerned. I closed out my text with Luke and held my phone in my lap, wishing there were some way to avoid having to do this. My head fell back and I found myself staring at the ceiling, noticing the star stickers that Mom had put around the light fixture when we were kids.

  With a big sigh, I pressed my contact button to find my Dad. Instinctively, one arm flexed over my chest in a protective manner as I waited for him to pick up.

  “Dad?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Is this Roxanne or Tara?” His voice was unwavering.

  Great. He couldn’t even tell his own children on the phone. Real piece of work, my father. I huffed “This is Roxanne.” I spat it out as if my own name was the vile thing. My jaw clenched as I prepared myself.

  “What do you need, Roxanne?”

  What did I need? I needed a father that cared. I needed my mother not to be dead when I was twenty-four. I needed someone to care. I needed . . . I sighed. It was useless to hope for more than I knew he was capable of delivering.

  “Mom passed away this morning at Evanston County Hospital. Visitation will be at Redland’s on Sunday and Monday from four until nine. The funeral will be Tuesday morning at ten and the ladies at St. Bartholomew’s are serving a meal for the family afterwards.” I waited several seconds of awkward silence waiting for some sort of response from him. When none came, I added, “I just thought you should know,” before I hung up the phone.

  As soon as I pushed the end call button, the tears came in a flood. How could he be so insensitive? What do I need? That was the twenty million dollar question. How could he not care for his daughters? I wondered if he had ever cared for Mom in the eight years of their marriage or if he cared about us at all.

  Doesn’t it even matter that we were hurting or that we had lost our mother? The sobs increased as the anger rose again. I was angry that he left us, angry that he beat Mom, that he beat us, that he ever made us care about him. I was angry that he never hit his other children. Why were they better than us? I was angry for the scars that clouded my mind and my heart.

  I wondered if it would have been better for Mom if he had died of a drug overdose back when they were together. I was angry that he was never around for us while we were growing up and when we went to stay with him, he acted like a complete stranger.

  It wasn’t fair. Life was not fair. It should have been him and not Mom. I flung myself onto the bed, clutching my pillow as the tears welled, choking down the stifled screams. The pain in my chest grew, feeling my heart completely ripped apart. Deep gut wrenching sobs poured out of me. Nothing could possibly hurt as much as losing my mother and knowing that all I had was a self-absorbed bastard for a father.

  Some time later, I woke and Tara had covered me with the throw from the living room sofa. I could hear voices coming from that direction, I assumed that it was Tara and Devon.

  CHAPTER 7

  When Luke finally called, I told him that Mom was gone. There was a long pause before he responded. It was obvious that something was bothering him, but when I asked, he said that it wasn’t important right now. He talked briefly, about what he would need to do in order to take off so that he could be with me for the funeral, asking if there was anything I needed. Talk about a loaded question.

  My mind raced with a million things before landing on the practical aspect. That was a relief, as I had not thought out packing, but stuffed a few items into my suitcase that were handy. I started describing specific clothing items and had to stop so that he could get paper and a pen to write down my requests.

  We talked a little longer about how his trip went and a few small talk things. When I asked him why he was so late in calling, he was suddenly agitated and said we would discuss it when he arrived. That wasn’t like him at all. He quickly ended the call, leaving my mind to imagine all sorts of what ifs and possible reasons for this unusual behavior. Now that my mind was actively trying to figure things out, I wasn’t sleepy anymore.

  Slipping on my yoga pants, I moved back to the living room where Tara and Devon were watching a movie. Silently, I slipped into the kitchen behind them. I set my glass on the breakfast bar, scooting one of the chairs around. It wasn’t that I was trying to be quiet, but as I sat behind them, I felt a sense of dread about seeing Devon and my sister make out.

  I cleared my throat, crinkled the plastic container that held the last two almond cookies. Maybe if they knew I was in the room they wouldn’t get touchy feely. I could always hope at least.

  When I cleared my throat, Devon jerked awake. I had not realized that he was sleeping. I just thought he was leaning against Tara, snuggling close like he used to do with me. No, not a jealous bone in my body!

  When he woke, he stood up and spun around in my direction. For a Moment, I thought he might pull his gun on me. He had a serious “I mean business” expression. After a couple of seconds, it registered that it was me, and he straightened up and moved to get his jacket.

  “If you ladies need anything, anything at all, give me a call. I’ve got to get home and get to bed. Still gotta get up in the morning.” He stood at the door for a few seconds, staring into the air. “Seriously, if there is anything. Just let me know.” I watched as he walked towards his car. I was curious to see what kind of car he would drive. It was no surprise when he opened the driver’s door of a new sleek Cadillac. It suited him well. Classy and sexy on the outside and a real powerhouse under the hood. />
  As I moved back to the kitchen, I gave myself a mental lashing for wayward thoughts. Tara had moved to one of the other chairs in the kitchen. “I didn’t know how to tell him to leave. I know it made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry for that.”

  “No, Tara, actually it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected. I’m fine.”

  “Well, that’s good. I suppose. How long was he here before I woke up?” She picked up the container of General Tso’s and a fork, scooping out the remainder onto a paper plate.

  “Not too long. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. He apologized for how he dumped me.” I picked at one of the cookies breaking off a small piece. “Whatever. We were kids and it turned out for the best all around. Keep in mind though, how he treated me. I don’t want him to burn you like that. I will kick his ass if he hurts you in any way.”

  A gentle smile spread across Tara’s face. “Thanks Roxy, for sticking up for me. He told me that you threatened to feed his balls to him if he hurt me.”

  I laughed. “Not exactly in those words, but yes.”

  “The thing is, he knows he was wrong and that he deserves it, so he’d probably not put up much of a fight.”

  “Hopefully, it won’t ever come to that.” I stuffed the remainder of the cookie in my mouth. “Tell me, where do things stand between you two?”

  She let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. At times, I wonder if I’m not just a replacement for you. He still cares for you, but he knows that he blew it. Other times, the connection from growing up together seems weird. There’s a certain amount of familiarity, so we are comfortable around each other, but then at times.” She paused, shoving her plate away. “At times, it just seems weird. We haven’t slept together yet. I wanted to be sure that he was interested in me and not just a shadow of you.”

  “Smart girl. Not that there is anything that you should ever be in my shadow for, but given our past together that is a very smart move.”

  “First time he whispers your name, I’m out.”

  “I doubt that happens.” A part of my pride was pleased at the idea, but another part of me was sad that Tara felt that it could happen. “Well, if you’re in doubt then don’t.”

  “I think we should hit the sack. Tomorrow, why don’t we go shopping and get ourselves dresses. I know I don’t have anything appropriate for a funeral.”

  “Yeah, me either.” She folded her arms one over the other and rested her chin on them.

  “I, I called Dad.” I picked at the napkin. “I told him about Mom, when the viewing is and when the funeral is. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.”

  As I looked up, I saw her eyes well with tears. A similar memory came back to me, of Tara sitting at the counter with her arms crossed in like fashion, a cast on her left arm, the left side of her face bruised, and her eyes both blackened. Tara couldn’t have been more than four at the time. She woke up from a nap and Mom said that we should play quietly because Daddy was sleeping. A few minutes later, loud clanking came from their bedroom. Neither Mom nor I realized that Tara had ran into the room to see if he wanted to play with her because he was awake. Suddenly a loud crashing noise came from their room followed by anguished cries of pain from Tara.

  He hadn’t been sleeping, he was doing drugs. When Tara ran to hug him, he was sitting on the bed, hallucinating or freaking out, or whatever you call it. He grabbed her and slammed her body against the wall, breaking her arm, a couple of ribs, and her collarbone.

  Mom called 911, telling them the situation. The police arrived first and arrested Dad. The paramedics came in and took Tara out on a stretcher. Another officer took me in the back of the police car to the station. Mom was also arrested for endangering us. Tara was in the hospital for a while, and then she came to the same foster home that I was placed in for a few days. I do not remember how long we were in that foster home, but I remember the couple, Mr. and Mrs. Shelton.

  When Mom picked us up, Dad was nowhere around. It was our first full day back and Tara sat in the chair swinging her legs crying because it was her fault that Daddy left. Such a heavy burden for a little girl, my baby sister.

  Mom was quick to tell her and me that it wasn’t either of our faults, that our daddy was sick and he had to go away for a while to get better. It was not too long after that they divorced.

  I reached over and patted my sister’s hand. Tears welled in my own eyes as I stood and pulled her to me. I held on tight, sobbing as the flood of emotions hit me. A flood of memories, both good and bad, came rushing into my mind. I trembled as my body racked with anguished sobs. Several minutes passed before we released the other and said our good nights.

  CHAPTER 8

  Luke was scheduled to arrive one hour before the viewing. I sat numbly in Mom’s house in a simple black dress feeling guilty that I didn’t buy it. I’d spent my money on the fancy gown for Luke’s company gig a few weeks earlier and although I had wanted to go shopping, nothing felt right. I just took one of Mom’s dresses from her closet. It was one of her favorites, black chiffon over a simple black silk chemise with a beaded bodice. I sat calmly waiting for Luke to arrive. Normally, I would have rushed to meet him at the airport or sat on the front stoop waiting for his arrival but given the circumstances, I couldn’t muster it.

  Tara tried one dress on then the other, fussing over why none of them were right. Neither of us bought dresses. I searched the racks not finding anything that interested me, finally trying on two. In the end, we gave up and decided to borrow something of Mom’s. I guess in a way, it was that last bit of connection to her.

  Tara decided on a sundress that she had bought for Mom on her last birthday. Mom had lost a lot of weight while going through three rounds of chemotherapy and Tara thought it might lift her spirits with its black sheer scarf that had purple and white flowers embroidered on it. It hung loosely on Tara, but it seemed to fit the mood.

  It might be a little weird, but that little contact, wearing a dress that belonged to Mom was comforting. I was getting antsy waiting on Luke. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms, leaning into his big warm chest. I wondered again why he seemed agitated over the phone, figuring that once we were alone he would open up.

  The sound of the doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I moved in a dazed state of autonomy, going through motions but not there. At first, it didn’t even register with me that it was Luke at the door. I opened the door and motioned for him to come in, turning to go back to my spot on the sofa. His hand caught my arm, pulling me to turn back in his direction.

  “Roxy, Roxy,” a voice called from some distant point. “Roxy!”

  Suddenly, I was crushed into his chest, startling awake as I struggled to break free of his hold.

  “Relax. It’s me, Babe.” He had his hands on my upper arms as he came into focus in front of me. The mental fog lifted.

  “Luke?”

  “Yes.” He pulled me close, enveloping me in his embrace. “I’m sorry about your Mom. I got here as soon as I could.” He held me tight against his chest. As I relaxed into him, I could feel the mask begin to fracture. The carefully crafted veneer that hid the pain was beginning to crumble. I had to keep it together until after the funeral. Quickly, I stepped away from Luke and headed to the sofa. I could see the confusion in his expression, but I couldn’t let it slip just yet.

  Luke drove us to the funeral home in silence. Tara stared out the back window just as I stared out of the front passenger window. I noticed tulips lining a yard near the funeral home. Odd how life continues, seemingly jumping up and down screaming when death steals someone from you.

  I didn’t remember arriving or going inside, but suddenly there were people extending their hands, offering condolences. The room was filled with family and Mom’s coworkers. Tara stood to the side of the casket, I sat in the front row staring forward, but not really seeing anything. Glancing to my side, Luke was there sitting beside me, wringing his hands in his lap.

  When my Uncle lifted me to my feet to embrac
e me and say how much he would miss my Mom, the tears began to flow again. Just the mention of her name caused tears. Aunt Carol came alongside of Uncle Joe and hurried him away as she shot an “I’m sorry” look in my direction.

  Slowly, I lowered back to the chair, staring in the general direction of Mom’s casket. I watched Tara for a few minutes, noticing how she held her arms across her chest as if to hug herself tight. Her right arm over the left, occasionally dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Tara kept glancing over to the casket, but I could tell she was avoiding looking inside as much as me.

  We had selected Mom’s favorite dress, pulled at the back with alligator clips so that it hugged her body. Tara took great care in styling her favorite wig so that she would look good in the casket. That may sound silly, but we knew how self-conscious she was about her gaunt appearance and baldness from chemotherapy. She was devastated after her mastectomy and became almost reclusive until her reconstructive surgery.

  A year and a half passed while she was in remission, but the cancer came back and was in her liver and pancreas. Once it spread to her bones, she deteriorated rapidly and her energy and will to fight wasn’t in her. We gave the funeral home director the best picture we could find of Mom, to make her look as good as they could. I had yet to look.

  I know it was irrational, a childish ploy of desperation, but our minds play stupid games with us at times like this when the emotions are running amok. In the back of my mind, and I imagined it was the same for Tara, the prevailing thought stood like a sentinel that if we didn’t look, if we didn’t actually see her in the casket, see that she was gone, somehow it was a bad dream. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but if you’ve ever lost someone so close that a part of you was missing because they are gone, I am sure you can relate.

  “Roxy, can I get you anything? Why don’t we go downstairs to the family lounge?” Luke tugged my arm in the general direction of the stairs. I followed, allowing him to guide me as I couldn’t seem to shake off this fog.