Chapter 74
“Hello, Elsie.”
I’m on my porch, secateurs in hand, lopping the heads off roses when I hear Roxanne’s voice calling down the alleyway.
I turn, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun.
She looks tired as usual. Her hair is tied up in a very high bun with those loose stragglers around the side that a lot of women her age sport.
But unlike the others I’ve seen, the loose stragglers do not look intentional.
Her gaze is set, reminding me of the face of someone who lives in a flood or fire zone who has been asked to evacuate and knows what is coming. Resigned.
“Roxanne. How has your day been?”
“Long. Actually, I need to talk to you.”
Something in her tone makes me pause. I wipe my hands on my apron, placing my secateurs carefully on the porch railing. “What’s wrong?”
“I saw Shane.”
Of course, it was too much to hope he’d vanish from whence he came. “When?”
“Last night. He was waiting outside when I came home from work.”
“At 4 AM?” I take off my gardening gloves and put them in the pocket of my apron.
“Yes. He asked if I wanted to take him back. Said he wanted to be a family again.”
“For the love of God, Roxanne, tell me you told him to take a hike.”
“I did,” she says.
I feel relieved. Roxanne seems like she has a good head on her shoulders, but you never really know. Sometimes it’s the smart women who accept the worst treatment. Father wounds, etcetera.
“That’s the problem,” she adds.
“What do you mean, that’s the problem?”
“He didn’t take it very well. He started raging, saying I’d never do any better than him, that I’d be sorry. He doesn’t do well when he is rejected. It’s kind of a … trigger for him.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. I got away. But before I did, he was mentioning Persephone. He’s never done that before. He’s not interested in her at all. Which means the only reason he’s interested in her now is because she is a way to hurt me.”
The ground feels like it’s tilting below me.
“Did he have a weapon?”
“Not last night. But once, before I left him, he threatened me with a gun.”
It’s a challenge to remain outwardly calm, but I try for Roxanne’s sake. “Have you gone to the police?”
“I went this morning. For what, I have no idea. They told me to call 000 if he comes to the house again.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I say.
Roxanne blinks. “Sorry. It just feels weird to hear an old lady say that.”
“I often say worse, believe me. I’ve said worse in front of your daughter.”
“I believe you.” She smiles. “I’m sorry to involve you in this, Elsie. But I felt I should warn you, since you have Persephone a few nights a week. You should be on guard—keep your doors locked, etcetera.”
“I’ll make sure Persephone is safe when she’s with me,” I say. “I swear it on my life. But I can’t help you, while you are out there at all hours of the night.”
She shrugs. “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me.”
“You can’t go on like this,” I tell her.
“What choice do I have? I don’t have another house to go to. I don’t have a security guard. I have to deal with reality.”
“I’m sorry, Roxanne.”
“Don’t be.”
But I am. Not just sorry—useless. Powerless. I hate that more than anything.
I hadn’t realized before that an upside of being alone was that I never had anyone to worry about. No one to protect. But looking at Roxanne, and thinking of that child asleep in my bed with one arm around my waist, I feel the weight of powerlessness like a millstone around my neck.