Marriage Made Me Do It Page 17

  I couldn’t look into Liz’s beautiful eyes any longer. The pain and regret behind them was too much to handle. Instead, I shifted my gaze out the dirty window—which by the way—needed some Windex asap. “Almost sixteen months ago. Just little episodes here and there, nothing major. That’s all changed inside here. It’s happening quite frequently now. Not only am I having issues recalling things, but like you just saw, I can’t seem to control my anger.”

  Nodding, Liz replied: “In a weird, sick way, it sort of makes sense now. I mean, I saw the change in you, too, but attributed it to all the stressors in your life. Do you think that’s why you—?”

  “No,” I interrupted, “I’m not blaming my choices on this or on drinking too much. I just snapped that’s all. My world exploded in front of my eyes and I lost it. I take full responsibility for the awful things I did.”

  “I don’t agree with what you did, and honestly, part of me hates you for destroying Carol’s world. Our friendship. The life we envisioned living as friends and grandparents together. It took a lot for the other part of me who still loves you to win out. That’s why I’m here. I needed to tell you I still love you, though I despise your actions, plus let you know I’ll always be there for Carol and your mother. Always.”

  “Guess now’s the time for me to tell you how much I love you before I forget who you are,” I joked, wiping the tears from my chin.

  “Not even funny, Roxy. Not in the least.”

  We stared at each other, lost inside our pain and communal grief. The mention of my mother made my heart pound. Watching a vibrant woman lose her mind and become nothing more than a body that looked like my mother yet housed a stranger, had been devastating.

  There was no way I’d let that happen to those I loved. Period.

  “Liz, I appreciate more than I can express you coming to see me. Knowing you’ll be there for Carol and my mom means the world to me. Really. You’ve always been my sister, and what I’m about to say will sound hateful and mean but trust me, it’s for your own good. Ha, isn’t that trite? My dad used to say that right before spanking us. Too funny.”

  “Roxy, what are you—?”

  Letting go of Liz’s hands, I stood. “I’m saying goodbye, Liz. I won’t have you watch me wither away to nothing like I did with my mom. It’s beyond painful. It’s downright gutwrenching. Just think of me as dead, because soon, the Roxy you know will be.”

  “Roxy! Wait!” Liz yelled.

  Turning, I fled the visitation room, tears streaming down my face as I nodded to the guard to let me out. Once in the hallway, the sounds of Liz’s voice muffled, I looked at the guard who escorted me to the room earlier. “Make sure to take her name off the approved visitor list.”

  Sorry, my bestie, but it’s for the best.

  Trust me.

  Today, I have another visitor—four months after the painful interactions with—uh, Liz—yes, that’s her name. I was a ball of nerves as I walked into the ghastly visitation room, barely noticing the windows were still in desperate need of a thorough cleaning.

  She looked beautiful. Rested. The dark circles under her eyes barely visible, her jet-black hair cut into a short bob tucked back behind dainty ears.

  New clothes; new makeup, yet still my beautiful Carol. Today marked nearly nine months since I’d last seen her in the courtroom, transforming my little girl into a grown woman.

  When she hugged me, I thought my heart would explode from joy. “Hey, baby. You look wonderful. I love the new haircut. How’s school?”

  “Fine. Grades could be better, but fine.”

  “Give yourself a break, sweetie. You’ve got a lot of things to concentrate on, not just school.”

  “True, and I am.”

  Awkward silence settled over us. Carol’s green eyes clouded over with tears as she took in my disheveled appearance. Though I had no scale, I knew I’d lost weight since my clothes hung on me like rags.

  “I miss you, Mom, and I deserve to be right—”

  “No, you don’t. You’re right where you’re supposed to be. College, a job, and moving on with life.”

  “I’m so sorry for what I did. I was just so angry that night after Dad told me about Ginger and the baby. I couldn’t think straight after reading your journal, and like a fool I left it—”

  “Shhh, baby. It’s time to walk away from past mistakes and move forward.”

  A few tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, slowly gliding down rosy cheeks. “I’m trying, but it’s really hard, Mom. Really hard. What we did was wrong.”

  Reaching out across the plastic table, I took Carol’s hand in mine. They were warm, soft, with a faint hint of lemongrass, courtesy of her favorite hand lotion. “I know, but you’re strong. You can and will make it. You’re still going to counseling, right?”

  Carol nodded. “Yes. Dr. Smithers is great. He’s helping me cope and so is Mr. Greenwood, Aunt Becca and Liz.”

  “Good! You haven’t told Dr. Smithers or Liz everything, right? Only discuss the real issues with Reginald and Rachel?”

  Worry lines creased her brow. “You mean Aunt Rebecca.”

  “What?”

  “You said Rachel.”

  “I did? Oh, sorry. Yes, I meant Rebecca. Answer my question, please. You haven’t told anyone who shouldn’t know, right?”

  “Of course I haven’t. Dr. Smithers and Liz would freak, and Mr. Greenwood is a great listener. He even helped me with my first report in English. Nice guy, for a lawyer.”

  “Yes, he is,” I commented, unwilling to mention Reginald wasn’t being nice out of the kindness of his heart.

  “Aunt Becca and Liz have been wonderful, Mom. Aunt Becca’s even teaching me accounting so I can handle my finances. She sold Grandma’s house last month and put the money in a trust fund for me. Oh, and she bought me a new laptop last week so I can work from the dorm.”

  A random memory of my youth appeared, of me taking Rebecca’s dolls outside in the dead of night, cutting all their hair off then tearing their little plastic limbs off and burying them in the backyard. How I’d giggled under the moonlight as I destroyed things I knew Rebecca loved—and how, when Daddy caught me one night, he took the shovel and dug the hole deeper, all while talking calmly to me about what I was doing was wrong. In a stern yet gentle voice, he said he understood I didn’t love Rebecca, that sibling rivalry was a normal, natural feeling, but I would have to suck it up and keep a smile on my face, hiding my real feelings from others. “That’s what we do, Roxy. People like you and me—full of thoughts we shouldn’t have—we tuck them away deep inside, keeping them from others. It’s best that way.”

  I took his words to heart and followed the rule ever since that night. Great advice, Dad. All the bottled emotions escaped at one time, leaving a trail of misery and heartache in its wake.

  God, I’d been a sick, twisted person my entire life yet hid the dark side for years. I hope the new owners don’t decide to put in a pool. They would be in for a shock at what little hidden treasures are buried in the yard—the ones I didn’t have time to remove.

  Thinking about burying things made me shudder. It had been almost a year and no detectives had come around, questioning me about the whereabouts of Benny Rogers. Was it possible I’d actually gotten away with that one? Wouldn’t it be the sickest twist ever if I had, and then once my mind completely faded, I spilled the beans?

  That was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. Carol had no idea this would be her first—and final—visit. Reaching inside my pocket, I felt a wave of calm settle over me when I touched the small package of salted peanuts I’d snagged from the kitchen.

  “Mom? Are you okay?”

  “Uh, yes. Just thinking about all the years I spent in that house and how I’m sort of glad I won’t be able to see someone else living in it. So, you said you aren’t working at the vet’s office anymore?”

  “No. Dr. Varner couldn’t handle all the media attention. Frankly, neither could I, so I quit right after you
went to court.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I know how much you loved working with the animals. But soon, you’ll be your own boss and have your own clinic. Nobody will take that away from you. That’s a promise.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. Really.”

  “So, what kind of work are you doing from the dorm?”

  “Data entry in QuickBooks for some of Aunt Becca’s clients. Easy stuff.”

  “That’s good, sweetie. Just don’t overextend yourself. School comes first.”

  “I know, Mom,” Carol answered, frowning. “I’ve learned a lot of techniques about how to handle stress from Dr. Smithers. Plus, the advice he shares with me works, no matter the underlying reasons of insanity, or his lack of knowledge about what I did.”

  “Honey, you aren’t insane. What happened isn’t your fault—it’s mine. I’m so sorry I wasn’t a better role model.”

  “Bullshit, Mom. You were—and still are—a great role model. Look what you sacrificed for me—”

  “Shhh, Carol. Certain things don’t need to be discussed. Not here. You never know if ears are listening.”

  “I don’t care, Mom! What you did for me—and how I just kept my mouth shut and didn’t stand up and take responsibility for my own actions—it haunts me. Every single day. It was the ultimate act of love on your part, and the epitome of cowardice on mine. Look how long it took me to come see you? I mean, what kind of daughter am I?”

  The sweet voice, full of lovely, heartfelt words, continued to buzz around me, but they didn’t make sense. My head hurt, and my heart pounded in my chest. I tried, but couldn’t, take a deep breath, like someone had their arms clamped around my chest.

  Where am I?

  Why am I dressed in these orange, ugly, itchy clothes?

  God, it stinks in here. Did I forget to take out the garbage?

  Why is this young woman across from me crying? She’s talking nonsense and keeps calling me mom.

  The walls of the room closed in. In a state of panic, I jerked my hand from the strange girl’s and stood. “Stop calling me that! I don’t know you. Where am I? Who are you? What’s going on? Why does it smell so awful in here?”

  “Mom? Oh, my God! Mom! What’s wrong?”

  “Get away from me!” I screamed, pushing the strange girl away.

  “Help! Someone, we need a doctor. I think Mom’s having a heart attack or stroke! Hurry!”

  Knocking the table over in an attempt to scramble away from the crazy strangers, I ran to the corner of the unfamiliar room. Crumpling into a heap, sobbing uncontrollably, I felt the arms of the young woman embrace me.

  “Shhh, Mom. It’s okay. I’m here. Just breathe. Deep, slow breaths. That’s it.”

  Something about her voice was soothing. The calming scent of lemongrass seemed familiar. Whatever it was, the panic inside my mind eased up enough for me to let the kind girl hold me, while softly humming in my ear.

  She was very nice, even though she was confused. Poor girl thinks I’m her mother and isn’t that just the saddest thing?

  Opening my eyes, I looked down at the dirty floor.

  Yikes, it was a mess.

  The housewife responsible for this untidy, ugly home deserved a demerit.

  ***

  “Well, it’s about time you woke up. Girl, lots of inmates are pissed off at you for ruining visiting day. I would suggest you stay in your cell for a few days before venturing out into gen pop.”

  Looking at the staff nurse who looked about as happy to be in the prison infirmary as I was, I smirked. “I’m feeling fine, thank you. Not that you care, obviously, just thought I’d throw it out there. Where’s my daughter? Is she still here?”

  “Like everyone else, when visiting hours are over, they’re over. No special privileges for anyone—period.”

  If my left hand wasn’t shackled to the bed … “How long have I been out?”

  Staring at me with dead eyes (again, what rocks does the state turn over to find these women?) Nurse Crabapple looked at me as though I was an annoying bug on her sleeve. “Long enough for shift change. I just got here and need to make my rounds. When I return, I’ll take you back to your cell.”

  Forcing my face to remain neutral, I nodded, damn near giddy when I noticed the package of peanuts was on the tray, just close enough for me to reach.

  With exceptional patience, I waited until I couldn’t hear the squish-squash of her shoes down the hallway. Leaning over, I snatched the package of peanuts, tore off the edge then chomped and swallowed, relishing the taste I hadn’t experienced since I was four.

  My goodness, I’d forgotten how amazing peanuts tasted. Too bad they were highly toxic to my system.

  Within seconds, I felt my chest tighten and pulse race. Heat raced through my body, followed by horrible stomach cramps. I fought through all the anaphylactic reactions, unwilling to alert Nurse Crabapple so she could swoop in and save me.

  No, not this time. It’s time for Raging Roxy to take her secrets to the grave and to rest.

  Permanently.

  Goodbyes had already been said to Carol and Liz, and I refused to risk the sacrifice I made for my daughter, in case my mind slipped and betrayed her—or accidently incriminated myself about Benny-Boo one day. I had no intention of her watching my mind slowly disintegrate into that of a stranger’s, because I knew from personal experience how truly heartbreaking that was to witness.

  No way. That would be the ultimate demerit, and I’ve got enough in my jar for eternity.

  As my eyes started to swell, I had one last clear thought. Glancing back over to the tray, I spotted a black marker. Grabbing it, my fingers trembling, I scrawled Suburbia Made Me Do It across my left forearm, a devious smile across my lips as I looked at my horrid penmanship.

  I tried to whisper, “I love you, Carol Claire,” but my swollen tongue wouldn’t allow it. Grabbing the handrail, I closed my eyes and didn’t fight the convulsions as I carried out my self-imposed death penalty.

  Roxy’s Final Rule: Do whatever it takes to protect Carol.

  Nailed it!

  EPILOGUE

  Tainted Fruit

  “It’s almost time for their services, Carol. Are you finished with your notes for the eulogy? Also, did you want to go first, or do you want me to start with Grandma’s? It’s your choice, honey.”

  Sighing, Carol forced her voice to remain calm as her new nemesis stepped into the family preparation room. “I don’t need notes to say what’s on my mind, Aunt Becca. I’ll wing it; be blunt, to the point and honest—just like Mom would do. Feel free to go first with Grandma’s eulogy.”

  “Sure thing. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Rebecca responded, casually glancing at the nearly empty room across the hallway where the services would soon start. “Are you sure you really want to put yourself through the emotional wringer, sweetie? There are less than ten people sitting in the parlor. Maybe we should just forgo the formalities, you take the urns home rather than to the cemetery, and we can then put this whole nightmare behind us for good?”

  “No way.” Carol fought back the rage consuming her mind. During the two days after learning of her mother’s suicide and her grandmother’s sudden heart attack within twenty minutes of each other, Carol’s thoughts were full of dark, ugly scenarios, just as they’d been the night she’d killed her piece-of-shit father and his whore after Daddy-Dearest dropped the horrible news during dinner about the real reason behind the end of the marriage.

  What little relationship she had with her father ended when he had the nerve to introduce Ginger as his future wife then broke the news about their baby. He’d tried to make it sound like an exciting adventure, one he wanted her to be a part of as the “big sis.”

  Grief and disgust drove her to the edge of insanity, which she then took out on the May–December couple with the aid of an 8″ butcher knife—a plot planted inside her mind the minute she fled home and found her mother passed out on the bathroom floor—a small notebook clasped between
bloodstained fingers, a plastic sack full of bloody clothes, and an empty pill bottle resting near the commode.

  She’d slumped to the floor and started reading, the words sometimes difficult to decipher each time her eyes welled up with tears. Fury at her father, along with a smidge of anger at her mother for lying to her, attempting to shield her from the news, dried the tears away.

  No: Rage burned them away.

  For months after her mother’s incarceration, Carol tried to work through her feelings with the therapist, Aunt Rebecca, and a few times with Reginald Greenwood. Like a naïve fool, she assumed the interactions helped.

  They did—for a while.

  All the progress vanished when her mother’s secret journal landed in her hands, pushing her right over the precipice, sending Carol straight into the bowels of her twisted, demented mind.

  When a representative from the prison called, informing Carol of her mother’s passing, she’d raced back to the prison, her broken heart already in tatters after witnessing her mother’s earlier break with reality. She’d been stuck inside a small waiting room for hours, filled out stacks of paperwork and then met with a grief counselor, who handed her a small sack filled with her mother’s personal belongings.

  Driving home late that night, she’d sobbed the entire way, mentally shredding her pathetic self apart for waiting so long to visit, and for her own actions spurring her mother’s.

  Yet once she arrived home and pilfered through the bag, Carol’s life trajectory took a sharp nosedive when she found the tattered, dirty notebook.

  She’d read every single word scribbled on the fragile pieces of paper written in shaky cursive. Her mother’s once-lovely handwriting deteriorated almost as fast as her mind, turning what was once something beautiful into a jumbled, almost unrecognizable mess.

  Reading all the new knowledge about the truth of her entire family and the fact her mother killed Benny and later, herself, to keep Carol safe, turned her heart into a solid piece of stone. Her mother had always been an obsessive note taker, yet knowing her mind slipped so fast she didn’t even remember keeping the words, falsely recalling she’d write then toss into the toilet, made Carol shake her head at the senseless of it all.