Roxy Sings the Blues

by Ellie Mack

  I replayed all of it in my mental recorder, listening closer this time. I didn’t hear a single thing the pastor said at the funeral. The funeral director tapped my arm, motioning for me to have one last look at my mother before they closed the casket. It was the first time I’d looked at her since the hospital and the vision of my mother’s lifeless frail body, hairless, sunken cheeks, hallowed eyes, and a multitude of purplish veins over her thin skin had been emblazoned on my mind. I was glad I looked now. It almost looked like her. It almost resembled the vivacious woman she had been just a few months prior.

  He had locked the door behind us when we were in the side room so we wouldn’t see them closing the casket. At first, I didn’t realize that was what they were doing and when I did, I panicked. Luke held me tight, my face buried in his chest. My father stood stoic, his jaw set in a stern scowl. I hated him! I hated him for every ounce of sadness that he had ever caused us.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen until my mother was old and grey and had several grandchildren, possibly great grandchildren. She had spent most of her adult life working, never getting to enjoy her life. She never got to do the things she loved the most. She had talked of doing mission trips to help with medical clinics in third world countries, but could never manage the finances. She wanted to take gifts to children in Africa, but never did. She wanted to paint serene paintings of beaches all over the world, cherishing the one time she got to on her and dad’s honeymoon.

  We drove in silence to the cemetery. We sat in the front row, Dad between Tara and me holding our hands. Why, all of a sudden did he act as if he gave a crap about Mom?

  The ride home was awkward. Dad tried to initiate conversation while I stared out of the window at the houses whizzing by.

  I did the mental checklist: clean out the house, sell the house. ‘You girls can still stay with me in the summers.’

  I would be married shortly, why would I move back in with him for the summer? I would rather have Tara move in with me than be subjected to his bullshit for another summer. I didn’t understand what was going on with him, but this sudden “I care” act wasn’t going to fly. He’d never been there. I didn’t expect him to be anymore. It wasn’t worth the pain of being hurt by getting up any false expectations.

  Mom had tried numerous times to tell Tara and me that very thing. “Don’t get your hopes up with your dad. He only thinks of himself and I don’t want to see you get hurt again by hoping for more.” Nevertheless, summer after summer we had come home crying.

  “Dad?” My eyes dry for the first time in a couple of hours.

  “Yeah, Squirt” he responded, turning towards me. He looked older and more tired than I remembered ever seeing him.

  “You do realize that I am going to be married this summer, right?”

  “Oh. I had forgotten. It’s hard to believe you are both grown.” He turned off the freeway.

  “Were you even planning to attend the wedding?” I sat a little straighter in my seat, bracing for the excuses that were coming.

  “I was planning on it but.”

  “Oh, my, God! Really?” I turned facing him incredulous at whatever excuse he would have.

  “Let me explain.”

  “Don’t bother. All we’ve ever gotten our entire lives are excuses from you.” I rolled my eyes as I stared out of the window. My jaw clenched. “Seriously Dad? What? What lame excuse can you possibly come up with this time?”

  He pulled into the driveway at Mom’s house. I didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop as I opened the door and stomped towards the front door.

  “Roxanne, just let me explain.” He was only a few steps behind me.

  I turned, crossing my arms over my chest, lips pursed. Whatever his excuse, I wasn’t going to let it hurt. Not again, not ever again.

  He stopped in front of me. Turning towards the car and seeing that Tara was walking towards him, he raked his fingers through his hair, his jawline tensed. Several seconds went by before he plunged in. “Tammy booked our cruise during that time. I was going to talk with her to book us for a different one so that we could be there.”

  A cruise. It was so typical of his insensitive self-absorbed behavior. I rolled my lips together, curling up my chin nodding a slow nod as the words spewed from me. “A cruise. I see. Don’t bother. Enjoy your cruise.”

  “Rox, I’ll have her change it to a different one.”

  “No, Dad. Don’t bother. I’ll have some other father walk me down the aisle. Oh wait, that’s right, I don’t HAVE one! Better yet, I’ll manage my life as I always do . . . without a father!” I shoved the key into the lock. “Nice to see things haven’t changed.” I pushed the door open walking straight to my bedroom.

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t make it. Alright, I will just have to rearrange things.” He had followed inside after Tara.

  I turned on my heels. “Excuse me, you weren’t invited in. This isn’t your house. You can’t just come barging in any time you feel like it. I’ll ask you nicely to leave just once then I’m calling the cops.”

  Devon and Luke came in the door just as I spoke the last sentence.

  “Is there a problem, Roxy?” Devon’s eyes flicked back and forth between my father, Tara, and me.

  “No problem. He is leaving. Aren’t you ‘Dad’?” It was spat at him with all the vile sentiment I could muster. “That’s what you’re good at, leaving.” I stood arms crossed challenging him to start something. He wanted a fight, I had nearly twenty years of pent up anger to unleash.

  I could see what was more important. “Never mind. We’ve got each other’s back just like always. Go back to Tammy. Or Barbara, or Susie, or whatever the hell your next flavor of the month is. I don’t care anymore. Mom was right!”

  “You’ve got it all wrong Roxy. I. . .”

  “Do I, Dad? Do I?” I continued staring him down unmovable in my stance. “I understand a whole lot more than you’ve ever given me credit for. I understand that Mom loved you to the day she died. She hoped that you would wake up, but you didn’t. I understand that even though you cheated on her with different women before you divorced, that she still was willing to stick it out with you. I understand that the drugs were an addiction and you couldn’t help it back then. What’s your excuse now, huh? I understand that you’ve never been there for us, that summer visits with you were tolerated. You’re our biological father, but you certainly haven’t been our Dad.”

  “Roxanne! You will not talk to me like that!”

  “Oh? Won’t I? I think I just did. What’s the matter, Pop? Hitting a little too close to home? We don’t understand like Tammy does? Mom left this house to Tara and me so GET OUT.”

  Tara turned and ran to her room, avoiding the conflict that had escalated between us.

  I glared at him, furious with anger and frustrations. Angry that he had never been there. Angry that he wanted to arrange things for us now so it would be convenient for him and he would still not be responsible.

  “I checked the paperwork, the deed; the accounts are all taken care of. Mom had everything handled when she first got the diagnosis. She has it all in the safety deposit box and with her lawyer. So don’t worry, she handled all the responsibility - AGAIN.”

  He slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a big hole. “Dammit Roxanne! It’s not that easy. You don’t know what goes on in my life.”

  “You’re right, Dad, I don’t. We’ve never been a part of your life. You’ve always been looking out for yourself . . . Alone! I just wonder if Tammy realizes she’s temporary.”

  He glared back at me. I could see the rage behind his eyes. I could see a mix of regret tinged with hurt. I didn’t care.

  “Run off back to your other family. You know, the one you haven’t bailed on yet. The kids you haven’t beaten, yet. Or at least that nobody knows about, yet.” I know it was hurtful but I couldn’t stop the flood coming out of my mouth.

  I stared him down, daring him to say more. More than anything,
I wanted desperately for him to correct me, tell me I had it all wrong. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, for one second he could express a little affection for Tara and me.

  He turned and walked out the door without a word. No argument, no ‘you’ve got it all wrong.’ Nothing.

  I stared at the door for several minutes after he left, hoping that maybe he would come back inside, offering some sort of argument but he didn’t.

  A part of me inside was screaming stop, while my mouth kept going. A part of me just wanted to scream at him “Why don’t you love us?” Another part of me never wanted to see him again. I was so hurt, so scared, I didn’t know what we were going to do, but I knew things weren’t going to change with him.

  “I’ll be sending you the bill for repairs to our house. Perhaps you need Devon to escort you off of the premises?”

  I am not proud of my temper, it makes me say things I shouldn’t, things that are often better left unsaid.

  As I watched him, I saw an expression that I had never seen before. Regret? Remorse? Anger? Hurt? I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but the broken man that trudged out the door was not the arrogant jerk he had been a few minutes before.

  I followed him, locking the door behind him. I hated it when I said such hurtful things, hated that I‘d let my emotions get the better of me.

  Tara stepped out of her room, “He leave? Without even saying goodbye?”

  I nodded.

  Her tears began to flow as she turned back to finish packing the suitcase that lay open on her bed.

  There were so many things I needed to sort out and didn’t even know where to begin.

  I grabbed the cooler and began shoving things in it from the fridge. When the cooler was full. I filled a box with things from the cupboard. I was on the third box when Tara said she was ready.

  We loaded the car in silence. The backseat and trunk stuffed to maximum capacity. As I locked the house, a sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.

  CHAPTER 11

  I drove excessively fast and reckless from Mom’s house to my apartment. The entire drive was in silence. Tara looked at me several times as if to start a conversation, but then turned away to stare out the window. Once we arrived at the apartment, we carried things inside in continued silence. We had emptied the car and had the boxes emptied before the Devon and Luke arrived.

  “Kind of speeding a little there, Mario.” Devon tossed in my direction.

  I offered a glare in return.

  “You do know that I could have ticketed you, don’t you?”

  My back stiffened and I crossed my arms over my chest daring him. Honestly, I had forgotten about his cop status.

  Luke walked towards me, stopping in front of me. He placed one hand on each of my shoulders, kissed my forehead then my nose.

  “Just calm down. We aren’t your enemy. Your Dad is a dick, I won’t argue there. We will manage.” He moved to kiss me and I turned away.

  The tension hung in the air, making for awkward silence from all of us. Devon eventually moved towards the kitchen to see if there was something for snacks. Luke paced around the kitchen, following behind Devon in search of food, unsure whether it was safe to embrace me. Tara leaned back against the doorjamb of her bedroom, tears streaming down her cheeks but silent.

  “Thanks, Roxy,” it was barely above a whisper. In the heat of anger, I hadn’t thought about how it would affect her.

  “I’m sorry Tara. I didn’t intend to lose it like that.” My head lowered, my chin nearly touching my chest. I had ruined things for her with dad because of my mouth.

  “No, Rox, that’s not what I meant. I meant really, thank you. I have never had the nerve to say those things to him. You’re right. It’s how things have been. Then he shows up at Mom’s funeral as if he has cared all of these years and he hasn’t. He’s had it coming for a long time and I couldn’t do it. I was super pissed when he was at the funeral home, I didn’t want him there. I mean, I did in a way but I was so angry.” She swiped at the tears, shifting her weight, balancing on one foot as she put the other on top of it, as if she were trying to practice some ballet pose. “But, you were so kind to him, I thought maybe, maybe he actually had some sort of feelings of regret or at least fond memories of Mom.”

  I stepped towards her, wanting to hug my sister.

  “Then, when he said he couldn’t make your wedding because that’s when they’d scheduled a cruise, well, I can’t blame you. I don’t know about you, but I only plan on getting married once. I always thought Dad would walk us both down the aisle.” She shifted to stand on both feet, tilting her head towards me. “Really? A Cruise? He couldn’t even come up with the child support for Mom for, how many years? What a lowlife! I am embarrassed to be blood related to the man.”

  I pulled her into an embrace. “We’ve got each other. We are all the family we need. You and me. We’ll make it through together.” I held her in a tight embrace as each of us cried. Not big sobs, but the silent, steady stream of tears kind of cry.

  I noticed Devon peeking around the corner, then hurrying back to the kitchen. I guess females crying is too much for most guys to handle.

  “You, uh, you gonna be okay?” It was Luke, edging closer.

  Tara and I separated from our embrace, awkwardly swiping at the tears, both nodding that we would be fine. “Yeah,” We said in perfect unison.

  “Devon is heating up some of the food that your extended family and friends brought over for you girls. There’s enough food to feed an army for a week!”

  I smiled. “Yeah, they are great, sometimes. Aunt Carol has brought us over dinner on many occasions over the years.”

  We moved towards the kitchen counters, checking boxes and plastic storage containers, taking out everything that sounded good. There was a full bucket of chicken that somebody brought. I grabbed a drumstick out of the bucket and started eating it cold, as I checked the other containers. I spotted a banana cream pudding wrapped in saran wrap on the bottom shelf.

  “Tara! Grandma brought us her pudding!”

  I pulled the container out, setting it on the island. Luke was right. There was more than enough for the four of us and then some.

  “Hey, no dessert yet. I put a pan of lasagna in the oven here.”

  Devon turned, seeing us about to dig into the banana pudding. I had a spoon in one hand, the piece of partially eaten chicken in the other, practically drooling over the dish.

  “Here. You ladies sit down and let us serve you, OK?” He moved us around to the chairs then found the stack of paper plates that were the mainstay in my apartment. He opened several containers, setting them out on the counter next to the stove. “OK. Let’s see here. Two types of salad, green beans, and potatoes, some stuff with rice all mushed together, something coated with crunchy onions, potato salad, fried chicken, a meatloaf, roasted chicken, sliced roast beef with gravy, a lasagna in the oven. I haven’t even gotten to the desserts yet or the fruit or jello. So, pretty much anything you want.”

  The oven timer went off on the oven and he pulled out the lasagna. It was a delicious feast as we sat there together, talking, laughing, and enjoying being together. I got the bottle of wine out from under the cabinet that I was hoping to share with Mom when she got the all clear. “A toast. To family that matters, to good friends, and to what tomorrow may bring for us all.”

  We feasted on the smorgasbord of dishes. Tara and I were cleaning up after everyone was full while the guys retired to the deck. I hoped that they would get along and that Devon wouldn’t share too many embarrassing childhood stories. I wasn’t joking about the toast, I didn’t know what the future held for any of us, but we would face it together.

  Outside Luke and Devon talked sports until they felt comfortable with each other.

  “What’s it like to be a cop?” Luke asked before taking a swig of his beer.

  “Detective. I’m not a street cop anymore, thank God. I hated that, hated walking the beat, giving out tickets. Bu
t, being a detective can be stressful. Like this current case, I have homeless guys taking some designer drug. How can homeless guys afford these drugs? Who’s the supplier?”

  “That’s been all over the news. It looks like an absolute mess.”

  “We’re having a hard time identifying these victims. Our questioning so far has turned up no leads. Amazing how useless most of the camera footage is.” He stared out over the deck, his jaw tense. “This drug sucks the life right out of them. Forensics identified a couple of the vics by their DNA. They had priors, so they were in the system. Weird thing is, according to the database these guys were in their twenties and the bodies appeared to be fifty or sixty.” Devon lifted his beer, taking a long swig.

  “They appear to have aged?” Luke leaned forward, his ears pricked with interest.

  “Yeah, it’s crazy. They look like old men, but supposedly they are young.”

  Luke didn’t know quite how he should share his information with Devon, but this couldn’t be a coincidence. “Yeah that’s weird. So . . . the company I work for is working on this new formula for a sports supplement. I think maybe it might be of interest.”

  “Thanks, but I seriously doubt it. Unless they are marketing meth as an energy drink or something.” Devon swirled the beer in the bottle before taking the last swig. “So, you’re going to marry her. You make good money at that job?”

  “Real good.” Luke knew it was coming. Roxy had shared all about the great Devon Miller. She shared her crush and the fact that he crushed her heart.

  “So, is she just supposed to play Susie Homemaker while you do your thing?”

  “Not at all. Roxy has her own pursuits. When she retires from MMA, her plans are to manage her own health food store. My company can help with that as they will sponsor her to open a franchise.”

  He didn’t want to hear that. He wanted to hate Luke. It should have been him, not Luke to marry her but he blew his chances long ago. “Oh. Well, that’s good.”