CHAPTER 33 #2
Roxy stopped abruptly. The girl pulled back, breathing unevenly, her eyes searching for Roxy's gaze.
Roxy's shame and guilt were so overwhelming that she couldn't bring herself to look at her.
She sat bolt upright, her hands clamped to her face, leaning forward with her elbows digging into her knees. Without a sound.
Then, the silence broke. "What's her name?" Roxy's eyes widened slightly, confused. "The girl who is here with you, instead of me," the girl said, her fingers brushing against Roxy's chest, right over her heart. "What's her name?"
Roxy swallowed before whispering, "Ellen."
Echoing softly, the girl said, "Ellen… she truly must be a special woman for you to have such feelings."
"She's possibly the first person I've ever experienced true love for," Roxy admitted, her voice laced with sorrow, "and I've destroyed everything before I could even reveal my heart and be real with her."
"And it still hurts."
Roxy couldn't help but burst out with a sarcastic laugh. "Every. Single. Fucking. Day."
She could feel it: the girl's sole focus was her.
To a certain extent, it terrified her, because it was clear she was trying to understand Roxy.
Something hardly anyone had tried to do in recent years—apart from Ellen, of course.
The feeling Roxy experienced was close to that of being completely naked. Unexpectedly exposed.
"Are you happy, Roxy?" asked the girl in a sweetly disconcerting tone.
The energy to spin more falsehoods about her feelings had drained from Roxy—she was done with lying. "No. I am not."
The girl delivered the final knockout punch, asking, "When was the last time you were truly happy?"
"I—" she tried to speak, but a sudden realization made her stop abruptly.
When was the last time she'd been happy?
The thought of Ellen came to her mind first, but she struggled to remember further back, trying to pinpoint when it occurred.
.. before she met Ellen? Her years with the Service had stripped her of all her fond memories from before her recruitment, causing a deep void within herself.
"I can't recall," said Roxy, collapsing in tears. That was it: her last line of defence had gone down in battle. Now she was in free fall and knew her parachute would not unfold. "I am so sorry. I swear I wanted it to work," Roxy finally said, her voice broken and ashamed.
"Me too," the girl replied. "God, me too. But it's okay. Don't be sorry." The girl did not think twice about wrapping her arms around Roxy and holding her for an unknown span of time.
Slightly more composed, Roxy chuckled a bit, saying, "What a mess. Not the first date you were expecting for sure."
The girl giggled a bit and said, "I can't disagree with you on that, but I still had fun with you, though."
Roxy exhaled deeply, feeling the girl's sincerity, and stood up quietly, followed by the girl. She strolled toward the door, put on her shoes, and turned around one last time. The girl was there, watching her.
"Can't believe you wasted your time with me," Roxy said.
"I didn't." Her voice remained soft and present. "I've kissed women who weren't ready. You're not the first and probably not the last." She was smiling at Roxy. "Roxy, no one is rushing you. Take your time, okay?"
Roxy nodded, and the girl stepped closer.
Softly, with only a touch of lips and breath, she kissed Roxy.
When she pulled back, she rested her hand lightly against Roxy's cheek.
"You're a good person," she said. "Even if you don't think so.
" Roxy flinched when she said it, but she didn't take it back.
"Take care of yourself, Roxy. And don't be a stranger. " A wink accompanied the last line.
Struggling with pain and misery, Roxy uttered a faint "thank you" as she turned the doorknob and stepped outside onto the streets of Sydney.
You're a good person. Those words echoed in Roxy's head. If that were true, then why did she feel like an impostor in her own life?
***
Exactly as he'd mentioned, Charles was at home with Kimberly when Roxy came home from her failed date.
He was sitting at the dining table in front of his computer working, while Kimberly was comfortably settled on the sofa, reading a light romance novel.
Any attempt at a stealthy entrance was impossible.
So, she could only prepare herself for the impact.
They immediately looked up when Roxy closed the door. Charles softly commented, "Oh, you're back early. Bad date?"
Kimberly closed her book, expression warm. "You went out on a date?"
"Hey," she barely managed, struggling not to crack under the pressure of this interrogation. The number of hours spent training Roxy to keep the British government’s secrets under pressure and torture was of no help to her right now. "'Trying' would be a more appropriate word."
Roxy noticed a certain concern settling on Charles's face. It was the face of someone who was deeply worried about his best friend. She dropped her keys on the counter. "She was perfect, smart, kind, funny, and so beautiful." She paused. "But she wasn't Ellen."
Kimberly gave Roxy a small, sad smile. "I'm still glad you went out."
She nodded. "She pointed out to me how unhappy I had been for a long time." Charles looked up fully now.
"I know." She swallowed, with a tear slowly rolling down her right eye. "I'm sorry, Charles. I don't remember the last time."
"Roxy, stop doing this to yourself. I'm alright. Truly." He took a pause, his voice lowered, almost hesitant. "I wouldn't have met Kimberly otherwise." He glanced away, then back, clearing his throat lightly. "That's not—I wasn't trying to rub it in. Sorry, that came out wrong."
Kimberly glanced at Charles, still staring at the floor, then looked gently toward Roxy. "He's not saying it didn't hurt, Roxy. He just meant… something soft came after. And it helped. I think there's room for something soft in your life too. When you're ready. That's all."
Roxy looked at them both with a forced smile, then turned toward the hallway. "Goodnight."
"Night, Roxy," Charles said, with a sad tone.
"We're here if you need us," Kimberly added. "Please don't forget."
Later she lay curled on her side, still fully clothed, and her face pressed into the pillow like it might anchor her to something real. Her body felt so wrong right. She had this sensation she borrowed it from someone else. Roxy closed her eyes, hoping for sleep—or nothing at all.
But all Roxy could see was her face. Not Stephanie's face, the girl from the gym. It would always be Ellen's.