Chapter 3 Roxy
In an ironic and cruel twist of fate, Liam offered to take me to Taverna Grazia.
It was the first time he’d ever offered to treat me to the type of place that served dinner on china plates and white tablecloths.
You know, an actual “nice” place. And it was also the night of our last and final date.
After tonight, there would be no more Liam and Roxy Murphy, which was exactly what I wanted.
Wasn’t it?
I kept questioning myself as I got ready at my motel room’s vanity sink. My stomach was fluttery with nerves as I ironed my hair into waves and applied mascara. It wasn’t at all unpleasant to be getting ready for a sexy date, but knowing that it’d be with Liam Murphy definitely soured things a bit.
Why couldn’t he be like this three years ago? I wondered. There were days I had to beg for a date. Beg. And it wasn’t like I was asking him to spoil me. We can just go to IHOP for all I care! I remembered saying once.
God, how pathetic I was back then. Begging for the basest of scraps from my own husband. Begging for bare minimum effort, which I still never got. Everyone had their limits, though. Eventually, I got fed up enough to pack up and run off in the middle of a quiet summer night.
I knew it was cruel to do that to Liam. For a long time, I imagined how he might have felt when he stirred groggily in his sleep, roused awake by that uncanny feeling that something wasn’t right.
My side of the bed gone cold, my side of the dresser cleared out.
Good suitcase missing, car gone. I wondered what he felt when he read the note I’d left on the nightstand.
Whether it was anger or shame when he read the words, I’m not happy anymore.
I had to stop thinking like that though. I forced myself to live instead. And I did all right for myself.
That first night, I drove south for hours, pushing further and further until I reached sunny Florida.
I tried out a few odd jobs out there, boat-cleaning and nannying, and tour-guiding.
Then, I tried out a few odd jobs in Atlanta.
Moved northwards to Boston. Then, I heard about a new casino going up Atlantic City and got immediately hired as a bartender.
I enjoyed a simple life in that coastal town.
I hadn’t realized how good I had it back then.
Busy nights pushing out drinks, a greasy cheeseburger at three a.m., sleeping in past noon in my seaside apartment.
Then, the casino went bust, and I was suddenly out of a job.
At twenty-one, I realized I had nothing to show for my two decades on earth.
No degree. No house. No business with a millennial-coded name like “Juniper Cove” or “Beehives & Wine” that peddled artisanal candles on Instagram.
No. All I had was an estranged husband with a last name that made it impossible to live a normal life, especially in a town like Northridge.
I knew it was the universe telling me that it was time for a fresh start. If I wanted to look forward with a clean conscience, I had to reconcile my one loose end, which was Liam Murphy.