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Chapter Two




After procrastinating and stopping around, I found myself at my apartment door. I didn’t make any move to pull out my keys and open the door. Simply stared at it. The white paint was scratched and peeling, turning a dirty off-white color. Wrinkling my nose with disgust, the door reminded me of my dad. Scratched, unappealing, and dirty. My dad had many faults, cheating on my mom being a huge one, but the sad truth was; my mom wasn’t completely innocent. At the first signs of my dad cheating on her, Mom seemed to lose quite a bit of weight. My sister’s death only added to her distress. Then, suddenly my mom didn’t seem quite as anxious or nervous. I thought she was just coping, my parents conditions improving. Until I watched from my window my mom coming home late, again, but driven by someone. Some guy. When they both got out of the car together, I witnessed the man walk right up to my mom, place his hands on her sides and kiss her.
That day my soul died, as did my parents marriage. I hated my dad from the day he cheated on Mom, and Phil for supporting my mom to cheat on Dad.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I slowly reached in my jacket pocket, retrieving my keys. Extending my arm, I felt myself unlock the door knob, allowing access into this heartless home.
I realized I had been holding my breath, anxious about my dad’s reaction of my returning. No was (and, boy was I thankful) home, so I slipped into my room and sat on my bed, to which I responded by combing my fingers through my hair. I didn’t want to think, but there was so much to think about. I close my eyes, trying to figure out why Kelly was acting so weird.
♪~♪
No! I thought, No! Kelly, you’re making a huge mistake! Don’t let Griffin-!
I woke up, feeling both relieved and disappointed it was only a dream. Disappointed because it meant I was here, relieved because Griffin had manipulated Kelly into loving him-when in truth he didn’t love her. I lift my head drowsily, checking the time. The digital numbers read 6:17p.m. I got up and shook my head. There was an achy-feeling in my chest from my dream, telling me that (just like the song) my dream will come true. Who’s the sick jerk that came up with those lyrics anyways?
Another feeling entered me, only this time it was my stomach, as if it knew it was time for dinner. Giving into hunger, I get up to begin the scavenging. Walking straight up to the fridge and opening it, it was only in vain. There was only milk, some oranges, and a container filled with who-knows-what.
After chugging some milk straight from the carton, I open cupboard after cupboard just to be let down. Giving up, I gave into an orange and began peeling it.
Once I had gotten to the last two or three pieces a jingling noise came from the door, indicating someone was coming in. Once the door clicked loudly, I watched my mom enter the room. She looked tired and slightly upset. She looked over to see me at the table. Instantly, as though caught in a criminal act, her attitude changed. She folded her arms insecurely, and said, “H-hey, baby. How are you?”
Pursing my lips, I give her a look and return to my attention to the remaining orange pieces, “Hungry.”
Mom walked into the kitchen and asked, “Really? Didn’t I just go shopping?”
I snort like it was a joke, because it was, and say, “Ha, yeah, like a month ago.”
I heard her sigh and open the fridge. She reclosed it and stood there before she finally said, “Well, I’m gonna be in my room… if you need me.”
I grunt in reply, and listen to her footsteps until her room door finally shut. I slouched in my chair and chewed my orange without really tasting it. There was ringing silence, leaving me to my deep thoughts. My mom, she could be described as plain or dull. Her appearance was plain- brown hair pulled into a tight pony tail, a brown jacket she wore everyday, and dull colored clothes. Her voice was slightly monotonous and her job wasn’t exciting, being a receptionist.
I know, I know, it sounds really mean, the way I described her, but it’s the straight up truth. There’s no other way to describe her.
Sighing, I begin to push myself up as the phone rang. Getting up, I called down the hall, “I got it!” Lifting it to my ear, I answer, “Hello?”
A man’s voice comes from the other end, “Sherry?”
Instantly I knew who it was, and my lips pursed again, “No honey, this is Roxy. How are ya Phil?”
I sensed his dishearted-ness and irritation when he replied, “Oh, hello Roxanne, can I speak to your mother?”
Phil knew I didn’t like him, or what I knew. And fair is fair, because he doesn’t like me much either, so that worked out nicely. I replied, “Nope, sorry, she can’t come. You see she’s married and can’t sleep with you tonight.”
Phil inhaled. I sensed his annoyance, and was proud I had gotten to him so quickly, “Roxanne, I’m not trying to be a bad guy. Your mom needed help-.”
“So you think sleeping with her will help her cope?” Came my sharp response.
“N-no. She just needs someone she can trust… and love, since her husband has different, uh, company every night.”
I so loved how he didn’t deny his intentions toward my mom, “So you think that because my dad’s cheating on my mom that she should go right on ahead and cheat on him too? Wow Phil, you’re such a philosopher, seriously, you make me think so much deeper about the world and it’s meaning-!”
“Roxanne, you don’t understand, I-!”
“Oh, no. I understand perfectly,” My voice was slowly rising, “I know that you need to stay away from my mom!” I called him a foul name and slammed the phone on the receiver.
“Who was that, Roxy?” My mom’s voice traveled down the hall.
“No one, just some idiot trying to sell me some crap.” I answer truthfully. My adrenaline was pumping- I wanted to blow off some steam, but I didn’t want to run into Griffin again.
This so sucked! My life was slowly coming apart piece-by-piece. I don’t cry, only get angry, and I was far from tears. I wanted to find Phil and give him a piece of my mind. I wanted to see Griffin just to punch him in the face. I wanted to grab Kelly by the shoulders and shake her until she was normal again. I wanted to forgive my dad- to have him back!
But I knew none of those things were possible, and that only increased my fury. Only increased my well-hidden heart-ache. I was breathing heavily, so sick of this crap I called life. I look at the telephone that only moments before held the voice of one of the people I hated most. I picked it up- receiver and all- and next thing I knew, there were mangled, plastic pieces of phone on the ground. I clenched my jaw and stared at the mess in front of me. Electrical pieces were stringing from it, but still whole. Two stomps and a satisfying crunch later, it was more than ten bits.
“What in the world was that?” Mom’s voice right behind me. Without looking at her, I pushed by and locked myself in the bathroom. I blasted the shower on, making sure it was extra hot, so that it was nice and loud, drowning out all my disturbing thoughts and my mom’s rapping at the door.


Literally, a half hour later, I peeked my head out the door. All seemed calm, and Mom had her room door shut. In my pajamas (that clung to my wet legs and back) I slinked back into my room. When I entered my room, out of habit, I locked the door. Then, my fingers were twitching in anticipation, so I shuffled to the window and pulled it up. Looking down, there were a few people walking up and down the street. I tapped my fingers, wondering what to do.
Then I knew exactly what to do. Digging under piles and piles of junk, I found my iPod Dock. Slamming in the iPod, I pressed ‘play’ and amped up the volume to deafening. I don’t know who was singing or what the song was, but that didn’t matter. It was distraction, creating a block in my mind so I was unable to think. I lay on my bed just listening to the ear-splitting music, staring off to space.
Time flew. When I checked the time next, it was ten- something. Thankful, my eyes closed, and I fell asleep, again, fitfully.
♪~♪
It was the blasting music that woke me up. It was louder than some of the other music on the iPod. I didn’t jolt awake, neither did I feel tired, but at the same time it felt as though I had been awake all night. Luckily, there hadn’t been any dreams… or nightmares.
Sitting up and popping my back, I glanced around my messy room, smacking my mouth, hoping to take away that nasty morning breath. The clock now read: Eleven twenty-one A.M. Work. Sluggishly, I pushed myself out of the bed and into a new outfit. After changing and turning off the music, I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. The house was ringing with all the silence, to the point where it hurt. Picking up my keys and jacket, I heard someone in the kitchen.
Mom was in the kitchen, staring at the fridge, back turned from me. No breakfast for me today. I turn and walk to the door. Hand on the handle, Mom asks, “Where you going?”
Sighing, irritated, I replied, “Work?”
Quiet.
I purse my lips, “Where’s Dad?”
Again, silence.
“Bye,” and I left the apartment.

I reached work twelve on the dot. Missy was surprised to see me, “Roxy! You’re early.”
“Yeah,” Came the bland response. Awkward.
She smiled politely, “So, uh… how are you?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good.”
“Mm, hmm.”
Again, the voices of customers filled the room, causing less awkward tension.
“So?” I said, “Did Joan… ya know, pop the question?”
When her face fell, I knew the answer.
“No,” she mumbled, “I thought maybe, but then he never came close.”
“Wow, sorry. That, uh… that, uh, sucks.” I look around, trying to find some way to relieve the tension.
“Well,” Missy sighs, “I guess I’ll let you… uh, take-take over.”
“Yeah,” I reply as she takes off her apron. As I watched her sadly take down her jacket, my heart pained for her. Poor Missy. What was Joan waiting for? They’ve been dating forever!
“Bye, Roxy,” Missy passed by me. She began to open the door, when I turned and told her, “Missy,” She turned to me, and I nodded, “He’s going to ask you. Soon.”
Eyes filling with tears, she nodded, “Sure, Rox. Bye, Rox.” And she was gone.
I sat behind the counter, watching the door with dishearted-ness. The work schedule, though, brought me back to normal… well, as normal as I really am. I mean, I was feeling better, okay? The coffee houses’ atmosphere lightened my darkened mood, making me forget how little, how bad life is. Handing a customer his to-go cup, I saw someone had spilt at a table. Picking up a stained rag, I walked up to it. A few swipes of the cloth, it was gone. Turning, I heard the door announce another someone’s arrival. It took a lot of thought not to drop the rag on the ground and gape.
In the doorway was the heavenly being. The perfect guy. Him. His collar was once again popped, and eyes stormy as ever…
Wow, how cliché am I. Turning into a puddle at some random hot guy’s feet? Realizing I had frozen in place, I unclenched my joints and forced (left, right, left, right) myself to the counter.
Stepping out of the sunlight, he put down his collar, making me wonder why he had it up in the first place. I mean yeah, it was cold, but cold enough to pop the collar? No. He stared at me for a moment, then- to my pleasure-nodded. Not in a ‘wuzzup?’ kind of way or a stiff, “Hmph!” A slow, ‘Hello there’ perfect one. This guy was good. Griffin crossed my mind- his countenance. Never did he send my mind spinning or make me feel extra elated. He was a punk- incomparable to ‘Mr. EE’. See that? Griffin never made me play on words all nerdy-like like that.
The guy sat down at the same table he had before. Instead of the angry stony stare, though, he seemed more… relaxed. More… chill. I liked it. Then, to my disappointment, I thought of Kelly. What she had said to me. Why I hadn’t asked his name… or had hit on him. Why hadn’t I? Casting a glance at his direction over my shoulder, I pondered on the questions. Then is when I realized: He was different. Not only in appearance, but the fact he had a different… ‘feel’ about him. Less rebellious, less immature… more perfect. I smile to myself- something that hadn’t happened for a while.
Sighing, I pull out my magazine from under the counter and began reading. I had read a paragraph or so when a melodious voice said, “Excuse me?”
Looking up, I felt my eyes widen and I almost gasped. Standing right there- right there- was the guy. Oh man, he was cute. His complexion, flawless, and under his jacket, I could tell he was built. That’s when I also inhaled his scent, and it was ever better than Hollister cologne. I wished I never had to exhale. Staring into his magnificent face, I saw his eyes were bluer than I had realized, his hair a perfect charcoal-brown. And his smile, it was to die for.
Lost in his epitome of perfect man-ness, I realized I hadn’t answered him. Quickly to save my pride, the words stumbled, “Uh-uh, yeah? Yes?”
His smile grew at my stupidity. Looking me right in the eye he said, “Hello. Do you mind if I order?”
My mind slowly turned, unable to process his words. His voice. His… voice. It was deep, smooth, and had the very faintest trace of a British accent. British. Accent. Oh-my-gosh. Lost in his spell, I sputtered, “Yeah! Of course! Yeah, what-? Um, what do you want?”
Raising a dark eyebrow, he calmly told me, “Well, you see, I don’t very much like coffee, what would you suggest I should get?”
Did he just ask for my opinion? This guy’s good, “We do sell hot chocolate, some water, Coke, Sprite-!” I babbled giddily.
“Mmm,” He exhaled suddenly, “It’s been forever since I’ve had a coke. If you don’t mind…” He began to dig in his pocket for some money.
“Okee-dokey!” I got up. Okee-dokey? When have I ever said that? Opening the cold fridge, I produced a Coke bottle, “Buck fifty.” I hand it to him. He placed the money on the counter, all in quarters. I smiled at the complete guy-like trait. The simple action proved his full masculinity. Biting my lip and smiling, I put the change into the cash register.
Instead of leaving, though, he opened it and took a huge gulp of the soda. After a good swig, he sighed, refreshed and recapped it, “That was refreshing.”
“I’m a Cola fan myself,” I gushed. Wow. I really wanted to take back the comment after sounding just like a girl sucking up to some guy.
Except, he didn’t seem to mind or notice, rather, he seemed… intrigued. “Really?” he asked, smiling again, stealing my breath from my lungs, “Interesting.”
I smile slyly, trying to act as though I was interesting, “Yup, and I wish I could end world hunger too.”
To my surprise, he chuckled at my lame ‘model’ pun. “And let me guess,” he teased, “You try doing that while wearing a swimsuit and high-heels?”
“What better way?” I smile, thrilled at his talking to me. We both started laughing, filling me with happiness. He leaned forward, “So how about I come back tomorrow and listen to the speech for your next beauty pageant?” I giggled. Giggled?
“Sure.” I replied and watched him leave.
I was giddy--walking on air. I could in fact overcome my break up! Smiling to myself, I pictured his face. Then his voice… that accent! His smell overcame my senses, and all I could think was, this guy was good. People had begun to stare at me strangely, making me unsure if it was my dreamy smile or my Hayley Williams similar-look. Whatever the reason, I didn’t care. I had me a man.


As if irony knew my happiness couldn’t last, I felt sick when I got home. My stomach was off, my forehead broke out in sweat and my hands were clammy. I need to lie down. I shuffled awkwardly to my room. Hopefully no one was home, I hate it when my mom pretends to care or help. Placing a cold hand to my head, I tried to stop the room from spinning. Standing up, the room spun, making me dizzy. I walked to my mirror and sat in the chair. Hair stuck to my forehead and I was paler than usual. That was saying something.
My eyes had rings under them from lack of sleep. Nope, not a pretty sight. Panic gripped my already troubled stomach. My ‘date’ with my mystery guy was tomorrow, no way would I miss it.