Chapter Two
It was safe to say that Roxy was not getting over it.
She felt terrible about it too, because she wanted to support Dirk in all he did and she wanted to be happy for him but as fate would have it that was not the case right now. Every time she saw Dirk and Jake in the hallway together her heart pulled and ached. Lunch was even worse when they were cuddling and sometimes kissing right there in front of her.
Jane did her best to help, sometimes pulling Roxy over for extended bathroom breaks and introducing her to some guys she met in class. Roxy loved the effort she put into it, but it didn't help much.
At home, she found herself being less responsive to messages on Pesterchum and she spent more time looking in the mirror, tha disgusted feeling never leaving her mind.
One night, as she was brushing her teeth to get ready for bed, she looked at herself. Her long blonde hair hung around her shoulder like betrayal.
If you were a boy, he would've loved you.
The thought came and went so quickly, but the intensity of the thought shocked her to the core. That's ridiculous! She thought to herself, Even if I were a boy, I doubt he would be even remotely attracted to someone like me.
Safe to say that thought didn't help her much as she continued her normal routine, confidence practically destroyed. She slowly made her way into her room, shoulder slumped and her eyes cast downwards. Her computer did its regular ping, sounding the arrival of another message.
TT: Yo Ro-Lal, you there?
She didn't want to answer him. It had only been three weeks but she couldn't handle the constant onslaught of "Jake is so cute when he rambles about his movie collections" and "I love the way he looks when he's focused on his hunting". Sometimes she got plain annoyed, more with herself for not being honest with him in the first place.
TG: Yeah, I'm here. What's up?
She could feel her enthusiasm dropping in the message. Surely Dirk would sense it too.
TT: You alright? You've been kinda...out of it lately. I'm not good with talking about these things, but maybe I can help if something is bothering you?
You are clearly good at talking about Jake though, She thought to herself bitterly. She shook her head. Dirk was just trying to help and she did at least owe him some sort of explanation. Last thing she wanted was him worrying about her too.
TG: I'm fine Dirk. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately is all. Mutini has been meowing all night long, you know how much of an attention whore she can be!
There, just like that, she brushed all her troubles under the rug with a reasonable story. It wasn't a complete lie, she was having issues sleeping. However, he cat was not to blame but rather her never-ending wheel of thoughts echoing in her mind preventing her from getting sleep.
TT: Yeah, I can't imagine. I'm glad though, that nothing is wrong. I know I've been kind of a pain with Jake and all, but don't think I don't care anymore. If there's anything I can do, let me know and I'll get it done in a heartbeat.
Her heart pulled guiltily. Here she was thinking all of these terrible thing when Dirk really did care. What was she turning into? She was like the jealous ex, minus the actually getting a chance part.
TG: Thanks Dirk. I guess I'll change my emergency contact from 911 to your number cx
They talked like that for a few more minutes, Roxy making sure to ensure the fact that he knew she was "okay", even though she clearly wasn't.
She tried to go to bed early that night and get some sleep, maybe tomorrow would be a better day but luck was not on her side. She tossed and turned for a few hours before giving up. Her mind was a swirl of thoughts on repeat.
Roxy threw off her covers, making her way to the kitchen to get a glass of water and see if she had anything in her cabinets to help her sleep. She checked the clock above her stove. Midnight. Sighing, she grabbed a cup out of the cupboard, holding it under the sink, waiting for it to fill up when she noticed something.
Before her mother died, she was a major alcoholic. It wasn't really a secret. She always threw extravagant parties, inviting anyone and everyone with a good name. She witnessed her mother downing glass over glass, her sobriety fading with each sip. She was good at hiding it in front of others however, so no one really got it until the autopsy came back after she died. No one could provide a time when they saw her drunk but Roxy could. She could remember each time clear as day.
After the party died down, and everyone went home to their normal lives she often found her mother laying on the couch, crying. When she was a little girl she would try and ask her what was wrong. Most of the time she didn't get a response and just stood their awkwardly as a small five year old. Other times, she got a very sad answer.
"Mama is very tired baby."
"Tired of what Mama?"
"Tired of pretending."
The rare moments she was sober, she was the mother Roxy always loved. She would play with Roxy, do her hair, paint her nails, just love her. She would cook terrible meals for her then order out. But most of her life Roxy saw her mother drinking and crying, then putting on a show like she was the happiest woman alive. She always suspected it was because Roxy's father left them both when she was born and her parents abandoned her but it wasn't like her mother was providing any answers.
It wasn't until after she died from drinking too much and taking too many headache pills that Roxy understood why her mother drank. Alcohol depresses the system, making your actions more loose and revealing another part of you. Or should I say, the real you. It may depress your senses but it enhances your emotions, bringing the ones you feel so strongly about to the surface. Alcohol allowed her mother to truly express how she felt which was sad, alone and depressed, even if she did have a wonderful daughter.
As Roxy thought this, her eyes went to an empty wine bottle on the counter, her mother's favorite. She thought she got rid of it weeks ago, but given recent events she could understand why she hadn't or forgot to. She went over, picking it up and just staring at it.
It's crazy how something so trivial could kill someone, could change them so much. She thought to herself. She wondered if in a way, it helped her mother cope. She always went right back to being sober and somewhat happy after she drank it and cried herself out. Then again, maybe it was just the fact that Roxy was feeling sad and tired that she was trying to understand.
Holding the bottle to her nose, she could smell the sweet liquor still. Which was surprising. It was almost soothing to her, dulled her mind for bit. Without even thinking she opened the door next to it, revealing a small side wine cellar. Her mother always kept her favorites close by, others kept in the basement one. Roxy went right over to the shelves she memorized long ago, counting how many her mother had drank and went to the last shelf. One bottle left of her mother's favorite.
She pulled it out, its black bottle slightly heavy so she had to hold it with two hands. She didn't understand what she was doing but later she would blame it on lack of sleep and being so sad. She carried it into the kitchen, popping open the lid and pouring it into a glass.
She looked at it, its dark red color.
She stirred it around a bit.
Smelled it.
And finally, she drank it, tasting it's sweetness as it rolled down her throat, warming her body.
It can't hurt to have one glass. Might as well see what my mother was drowning herself in. It's only a glass after all.