by Kight, Ruthi
“She knows. She’s not that old,” she chuckled at her own joke. That was debatable, especially since she had sent a Barbie every year for my birthday since I was three. Didn’t she realize that I was 17 now? That had to be a sure sign of senility.
“Are you sure that my stuff will be there? What if it never made it there? I only have one outfit in my suitcase,” I replied, as anxiety wrapped me in its grip once again.
“Roxie, breathe. Everything is taken care of. We shipped your stuff there express. It will be there when you get there,” said Dad, while he shook his head in frustration. He obviously didn’t understand how valuable all of my clothes were. Men never understood clothing.
“Easy for you to say,” I replied under my breath. They weren’t the ones being shipped off to parts unknown. The anger that I felt towards both of them threatened once again, as it had bubbled and roiled all morning. I didn’t want to be angry with them, but they gave me no choice. In fact, they took away all of my choices.
As we pulled up at the front of the airport, the heaviness in my heart grew worse. New Yorkers were not exactly known for their patience, so I knew that I had only moments to say goodbye before the honks and cursing began all around us. I was sure I would miss the fast paced life of home. I gripped my bag tightly as I pulled out my ticket, and opened my door. Stepping out of the car felt more final than it should have. Maybe my heart knew something that my mind hadn’t grasped yet.
I set my bag on the ground, leaned into my mother’s window and gave her a brief hug. We all said goodbye, tears streamed freely from their eyes. I hadn’t been able to shed a tear for them today. That would mean that I would miss them, which I had decided last night wasn’t going to happen. I stood again and picked up my bag. I looked at them one last time before I turned and walked away. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong, but I chose instead to ignore it. I had enough to deal with at the moment and didn’t need the added worry about what the future would hold for all of us.
The smell of dirt and grime assaulted my nose as I walked through the glass doors of the airport. I went through the process of check-in and found my terminal. The whole time I repeatedly glanced at my phone, hoping that Amber would text me back. Still nothing. Screw it. I had nothing to lose. I typed in her number and put the phone to my ear, listening to “Don’t Stop Believing” as it rang on her end.
“Hello?” Amber answered hesitantly. Was that a hint of guilt I heard in her voice?
“Amber? Where the hell were you this morning?” I screeched. The anger I was already feeling at being stood up, plus what I felt towards my parents, finally spilled out. “I waited for you! I looked like a complete idiot out there on the stoop.”
“Roxie, I’m so sorry. I had something that I had to deal with this morning,” she sighed into the phone. That didn’t sound like a sincere apology at all.
“Really? Like what?” I asked, my voice dripping sarcasm.
“Don’t do this. Please. Not right now. Shouldn’t you be on a plane already?” I heard laughter in the background. And the voices were familiar.
“A party? You’re at a party? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I was beyond spitting mad at that point, red starting to cloud my vision. “I can’t believe you stood me up for a stupid party!”
“It’s not stupid! It’s Craig’s end of the year bash! You knew that it was today.”
“Wow. Just wow. You know what? Screw you Amber!” I yelled before I angrily stabbed the end button on my cell phone. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as slamming a phone down in its cradle, but it would have to do. The tears I wouldn’t shed for my parents now poured down my face. Amber was supposed to be by my side until we were old and gray. I hadn’t expected her to pick Craig’s party over saying goodbye to me, but obviously I didn’t know her as well as I thought. It seemed that I didn’t know anyone as well as I once thought I did. People continued to disappoint me.
I sat there as the tears silently slid down my cheeks, at least until the boarding call for my plane. I angrily wiped the tears from my face as I stood and grabbed my bag, viciously shoving my phone into my purse. I walked slowly, dragging my feet with each step. I dreaded leaving, but after Amber’s quick dismissal and my parents acting like complete idiots, I knew that getting away was the best thing for me right now.
What do you say to a woman that you barely know? Hey there, thanks for taking me in. Where the hell have you been the past 16 years? I had a feeling that wouldn’t go over very well with her. Mom told me that Grandma Betty was a true Southern woman. Respect and manners was evidently a big thing with her. She won’t know what hit her when she gets to see the real me. The Roxie who was no longer a toddler, but a 17 year old woman who was pissed off at the world. Bring it on Betty. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.
The plane ride was uneventful, my mind constantly jumped from my parents, to Amber, to Grandma. I thought about Mom and Dad. Were they arguing right now? Were they sorry for sending me away? Then Amber was there, front and center, and my blood pressure shot through the roof. I felt betrayed and angry, but most of all I was hurt. She had made her choice...and this time it wasn’t me. As for Grandma...well, I had no idea what to expect. But I knew one thing: when the plane landed, she was going to wish she had said no to this “visit.”
* * * *
“Roxanne! Roxanne Lynn!” I heard the gravelly voice long before I saw the face attached to the sound that grated on my already raw nerves. I scanned the small airport, searching for the owner of that distinctly Southern voice. What I found was a petite woman wearing a red flannel shirt and light denim jeans. Her arms flailed about her head as she desperately tried to grab my attention. Even from this distance I could tell that she was nothing like my mother. I couldn’t fathom how this woman gave birth to the cultured and pristine woman that I grew up with.
I started to walk towards her as she made her way through the other waiting people to get to me. We met about halfway and she gripped me by my arms and drew me into a fierce hug. Wow! I wasn’t expecting her to be that strong. For a woman of her age I was expecting a frail hug from a shriveled, old woman, not a bear hug from a well-muscled and toned woman.
“Roxanne, it’s so good to have you here baby! Let me take a look at you,” she drawled as she pulled back to scan me from head to toe. “You sure are skinny girl! Don’t your parents feed you up there in New York?”
“What?”
“Never mind that. How was your flight? I’m sure you’re exhausted,” she spoke as we walked, arm in arm, through the tiny airport. As soon as the doors to the outside world opened up I was stunned by the sweltering heat. Mom was right; this was a heat like no other. It was as if I was swimming in a sea of sweat, not walking through open air.
“Deep breaths darlin’. The air takes a little getting used to, but you’ll adjust,” she smiled at me as we walked the short distance to where her truck sat waiting.
Figures. Could she be any more typical? I mean, of course the little old Southern lady would drive a massive truck. I was willing to bet there was a gun rack somewhere in there as well.
She threw my bag in the back of the truck and walked around to the driver side of the truck. “Get in girl. We’ve got a long drive to the house.”
“Great,” I muttered as I opened the door and climbed in.
* * * *
“I sure was sorry to hear about your parents. It was bound to happen though. Your mom and dad are too different,” she spoke as we made the hour long drive to her home on the outskirts of the city.
“Different? No, they’re not. They were meant for each other,” I replied with a scowl. “Besides, you haven’t seen my mom in, how long? You wouldn’t even know what she is like anymore.”
I could tell by the look on her face that I had struck a low blow. I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but that was not a topic that I wanted to discuss. The whole reason they sent me here was to get away from all of the drama that
occurred during a divorce. They didn’t want me caught in the middle, or at least so they said. Seemed to me that I was already caught in the middle. My life was being shredded, bit by bit, and there was nothing that I could do stop it.
“You’re right. It’s been far too long since I saw my daughter, but I know who she is, deep down. A mother always knows her child,” she said before she turned the radio on and settled back in her seat.
Do mothers know their children that well? Amber’s mother knows nothing about her. She had to be reminded every year when her child’s birthday was. Most of the time I had to plan the entire thing because she had no idea what Amber would want. So, I was not inclined to believe that all mothers know their children that well. Grandma Betty may have thought that she knew my mother that well, but, in my mind, there’s no way to truly know someone you haven’t seen in almost twenty years.
* * * *
The drive to Grandma Betty’s house seemed to take forever. The music blared from the speakers, but it was as if there was a vacuum surrounding us, sucking the energy out of both of us. We were both hurting in that moment, but neither of us knew how to help the other. Then again, it was my fault that she was hurting, but I felt that what I said wasn’t off the mark. In fact, I was positive that she had no idea who her daughter was anymore.
The trees began to increase in number; their dark bark flooded my vision. I had never seen so many trees in my life. They lined the road, their branches spread overhead, creating a beautiful canopy for us to drive under. The leaves were all different shades of green, mixing together to create one of the most beautiful scenes I had ever seen. I had never given much thought to the significance of trees, but after driving underneath their cover, I could definitely understand why some people chose to live in places like this. There was something calming about our surroundings.
We turned off the main road onto a small dirt road. I wasn’t expecting the bumps and dips and it felt as if we were on a kid’s roller coaster ride. I had never driven down a road that wasn’t made of asphalt. The plumes of dust that rose up from the back of the truck clouded my view as I looked in the side view mirror. My mother had always joked that living in the South was like living in a completely different world, but I had never known what she meant until that very moment.
When we arrived at the end of the dirt road my breath caught in my throat. We entered a clearing, and situated in the middle was a very large house, dominating its surroundings. The house looked like it had been ripped right out of an old Hollywood movie, complete with a large wrap around porch and two rocking chairs by the front door. The house was almost completely white, except for the bright red shutters that lined either side of the windows. The pathway leading up to this glorious home was lined with flowers of every shade imaginable, all obviously carefully tended. It was the most beautiful house I had ever seen.
“Whoa.”
“You okay over there?” asked Grandma Betty.
“Um...yes, I think so. This is your house?” I couldn’t keep the wonder out of my voice. I didn’t want to offend her again, but I was caught completely off guard by her home. Where my mother had evidently grown up.
“Hasn’t your momma ever shown you pictures of where she was born?” she asked, a small smile playing across her lips.
“No, never. I can’t believe...” I looked over at her and my smile wilted. The look on her face showed a mix of regret and longing.
“That’s a shame. We had some good times here,” she said as she turned off the engine and opened her door.
I followed her lead, grabbing my bag from the back of the truck and dusting off the grit that had collected from our trip down the dirt road. I hurried to catch up as she made her way to the bright red door that stood in welcome, a beacon to all that visited. I guess I now know where my mother got her love of red.
She unlocked the door and swung it open, stepping aside to let me enter first. I walked through and instantly was stunned speechless. I had never been in a home quite like hers. The hardwood floors were cherry, a perfect contrast to the lovely cream color of the walls, giving the home a warm feeling that I hadn’t been expecting. It was nothing like what I had pictured in my mind when my parents first told me where I was spending my summer.
“Okay sugar. Your room is up those stairs, first door on the right. Your boxes arrived this morning, so they’re already up there waiting on you,” she said as she stomped her feet on the welcome rug by the door.
“Thanks,” I muttered as she walked away. I climbed the stairs, running my hand over the ornate railing as I made my way to my new bedroom. When I reached the top of the stairs I encountered a long hallway, doors lining the way to the end. I reached for the first door on the right and slowly opened it. There was no creaking noise, as I thought there would be, just a quiet whoosh as it opened.
I walked in and dropped my bag on the floor. The walls were a pale pink with white molding around the top that complimented the cherry floors that were evidently found throughout the entire house. In the middle of the room stood a large canopy bed, complete with a light pink ruffled top and a bed skirt to match. A white desk sat in the corner and was topped with a laptop and desk lamp, but nothing else. Nothing personal. A large dresser stood on one wall of the room, surrounded by all of my boxes that had been sent.
I walked over to the bed and plopped down on the edge. It was all so overwhelming. This wasn’t my home, and yet I would have to pretend as if it were. As I gazed around the room I would call mine for the next three months, a soft knock sounded at the door. I walked over and opened the door to find Grandma Betty standing there.
“So, what do you think? Is it going to be okay for ya?” she asked nervously.
“It’s...great, I guess,” I said as I moved aside to let her into the room. She glided in and took a seat at the desk, swiveling around to face me as I sat back down on the bed.
“This was your mother’s room when she was your age. I always dreamed of having another young lady spending time in here,” she paused, “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
“I’m sure,” I shot back, the sarcasm dripping from my mouth. I couldn’t help but feel angry with her, as if it was somehow her fault for the situation I now found myself in.
She glanced at me, a look of confusion flashing across her features, but it was quickly replaced with a sugary sweet smile. “This is going to be a great summer, for both of us.”
“Whatever you say,” I replied as I flopped back on the bed.
She stood up and shook her head. I knew I was being obstinate and rude, but she deserved it, as least in my mind. This was what happened when you deserted your family. This was what happened when you ignored your granddaughter her whole life and then tried to jump right in when the proverbial poop hit the fan.
“Go ahead and get unpacked. We’ll head out for dinner once you’re done.”
She walked out, closing the door behind her. I looked around at all the boxes that were in the room, unsure where to start. I began to feel overwhelmed again so I went to the window, opened it, and tried to take a deep breath. The humid air felt even more suffocating than it had at the airport. I had an overwhelming urge to run away. I could disappear in the woods that surrounded the house, never to be seen again. Then I could pretend that my world wasn’t spiraling out of control, turning into my own personal pit in hell.
As I stared out the open window, I watched the trees sway in the breeze and the dirt swirl around the shabby excuse for a road. I felt the vice around my heart tighten to nearly unbearable. The reality was that no matter where I went, or who I lived with, when I returned to New York at the end of summer my entire life would be different. No more family vacations. No more designer clothes. No more familiarity.
CHAPTER THREE
Unpacking of all of those boxes was torture, but three hours later, I was finally done. As promised, Grandma Betty drove us to town for dinner. The drive was just as awkward as I imagined. The silence w
as thick and suffocating. Grandma didn’t turn the radio on this time, but the scowl on her face had the same effect. She didn’t want to talk to me? Fine, I didn’t want talk to her either. No problem at all.
When we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant I burst out laughing. The outside of the small building looked ordinary enough, well, except for the blazing neon sign that read Daisy’s Diner. Only in the South would you find such a place, apparently named after the owner, and especially with a name like Daisy, or at least so I thought. When we parked I couldn’t help but let yet another giggle escape my lips. Grandma acted as if she heard nothing, which made me feel horribly guilty for laughing to begin with.
When we entered the little diner I took in the checkered tablecloths that covered the small tables, as well as the red vinyl booths that surrounded them. It was like stepping back in time. It was simple and rustic, two things that we didn’t have where I grew up. There was even a jukebox in the far corner, country music blaring from its speakers. I followed Grandma to a corner booth and we sat down, my thighs automatically sticking to the vinyl of the seat, which made it impossible to slide in any further. I had to settle for the middle since I wasn’t willing to chafe the backs of my legs just to scoot closer to the window.
I looked around, taking in my surroundings. This was definitely going to be an interesting summer.
“You look a little shell shocked. What’s on your mind?” she asked as she glanced between my face and the menu in front of her.
“I’d rather not say,” I replied, trying to hide my smile as I perused the menu I was clutching.
“I see. Hmm, lemme guess. This fits your idea of us Southerners, right? The small town diner, complete with all the ‘cheesy’ trimmings,” she replied as she stared straight into my eyes.
