Knotted Roots

Chapter FOUR



I awoke the next morning to the sounds of birds chirping loudly and a breeze blew through my room. I couldn’t remember leaving the window open when I went to bed. I shot up and looked around the room. There was nothing out of place, at least not from what I could tell. The room was still in a state of disarray, boxes scattered all around and clothes stacked on top of the dresser. I had unpacked everything, but I hadn’t had a chance to put it all away.

I went downstairs, grabbed a bowl of cereal, and then retreated once again to my room. I sat on the bed and ate in silence, the heat from outside causing a fine sheen of sweat to form on my brow. Once I finished I got to work. As I was putting my things away my phone rang. I grabbed it and found my Dad’s face flashing across the screen.

“Hello?” I answered as I sat down on the bed.

“Morning,” Dad’s voice crackled through the line. “I’m guessing you made it there in one piece.”

“Sorry I didn’t call last night. I was exhausted by the time we got home from dinner.”

No way was I going to tell him that I had been preoccupied with thoughts of a hunky Southern boy. He would have me on the next plane home so fast my head would spin, regardless of the divorce.

“Are you getting settled in?” he asked. His voice was laced with hints of guilt and worry. Good. He deserved to feel guilty for sending me here.

“I’m unpacking. Does that count?”

“Depends. Are you actually putting the stuff away or piling it on random pieces of furniture?”

A loud snort escaped, causing both of us to laugh uncontrollably. It had always amazed me how well my father knew me. If he could see this room now he would probably have a fit. He’d always been anal retentive about cleanliness, which meant I was always grounded because my room usually looked like a tornado had gone through it.

“Totally counts,” I reply as the laughter slowly subsided.

We spent a few more minutes talking, but we both skirted the most important topic: the divorce. I told myself it was better this way, that way I can at least pretend that it wasn’t happening, especially if I didn’t have to talk about it. As we hung up I heard a soft knock on my door. I walked over and opened the door. Grandma was standing there, her clothes completely filthy.

“Eww! You’re disgusting!” I backed away from her and brought my hand up to cover my nose. “And you smell terrible!”

She sniffed herself and shrugged. “I don’t smell anything. Do you want lunch?”

“After that nostril invasion? No thanks,” I replied, my nostrils pinched between my fingers to ward off the offensive odor.

“Suit yourself. I’m heading into town to eat,” she said as she walked away. A cloud of funk hovered in the air even after her departure.

I closed the door and turned to look around my prison cell. It’s a pretty room, but it was nothing like mine back home. This one was all hugs, kisses, and rainbows, while mine was mature, made up of dark pinks, browns, and teals. Maybe I could talk Grandma into letting me redecorate. Bored out of my mind, I decided to go downstairs and watch a movie. Distraction was the key to surviving my Southern hell.



* * * *



Downstairs didn’t turn out to be any more fun. There was only basic cable, no DVD player, and no movies to watch. The only redeeming quality was the floor to ceiling bookshelf packed full of books. I grabbed one that looked good and settled on the sofa. I tried to concentrate but my mind kept straying, constantly replaying everything that had happened thus far.

The betrayal I felt because of Amber was up front and center. Add to that the confusion and anger I still felt towards my parents and their stupid divorce, it was no wonder I couldn’t concentrate. Talking to Dad hadn’t helped me feel better. If anything it had made me even angrier. I wanted to hate them all, every last one of them, but I knew it wasn’t worth it. The damage was done.

After I spent most of the day on the couch, my pajamas were stuck to my body from the heat, so I decided to grab a bath. The large garden tub upstairs sounded really good at that point. As I was running the water I heard the doorbell. I turned the water off and went downstairs, grumbling the whole way. I yanked open the door and stumbled. Standing there was a woman who looked to be about my mom’s age. She was dressed in a long, flowing skirt and a simple white t-shirt, while her wrists were covered with an array of different metal bracelets. She reminded me of a hippie, if those actually existed anymore.

“Hi there, you must be Roxanne. I’m Cindy,” she said as she extended her hand to me. I didn’t grab it; instead I crossed my arms and leaned away from her. “I was a friend of your mother’s when she lived here.”

“What can I do for you?” I asked, my face frozen in a scowl.

“I heard you were in town and I wanted to meet you. I honestly never thought Angie would have kids. She always swore up and down that she wasn’t cut out for motherhood,” she said as she continued to smile, my demeanor obviously had not curbed her enthusiasm in the least.

“Well, here I am. In all my glory. Now, what can I do for you?”

She appeared a little shocked by my response and her smile faltered. “Um...well, nothing, I guess,” she replied. “Could you just tell your mother that I said hello? I’d love to talk to her again, but Betty made it pretty clear that your mother wasn’t interested in dwelling on the past.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

“Okay. Thanks. It was nice to meet you Roxanne,” she said as she turned to leave. As she walked down the stairs I quickly closed the front door. I trudged back upstairs and turned the water back on. As I waited for it to fill I removed my clothes and laid out my toiletries. I kept replaying Cindy’s words in my mind. So Mom never wanted children? That would explain a lot, actually. She never seemed to really “get” how to be a mother. I had always chalked it up to her incessant need to remain young and carefree.

I stayed in the tub, soaking away my boredom, until I heard the front door slam. Grandma had finally returned home from town. I was surprised that she hadn’t spent her day on that wretched farm. Thoughts of the farm conjured images of Chase: sweaty and covered in heaven knows what. While I had never been attracted to guys like him, there was something about his strong hands and their calluses that made me take pause.

I wasn’t looking for anything serious with him, that’s for sure. He would simply be a nice distraction for the summer. Someone to have fun with and avoid the boredom that was inevitable in this crappy excuse for a town. A knock at the bathroom door pulled me from my wandering thoughts.

“In the bath!” I yelled, hoping she would just walk away. Instead, the door swung open and her wrinkled face popped around the door.

“How long are ya gonna be in there? Company’s coming over soon,” she said.

“Good for them. I’ll be in my room.”

She let out a loud sigh. “Hiding in that room isn’t healthy. Eventually you’re gonna have to come out. Ya know that, right?” she asked.

“This heat isn’t healthy. This humidity. The dirt that covers everything. But I’m still stuck here, so healthy went out the window a long time ago.”

She shook her head and closed the door. I let out a sigh to match hers and drained the tub. I dressed quickly and returned to my room, and made sure to close and lock the door. I wasn’t in the mood to hang out with her company. I would rather pull every single one of my teeth out with pliers, without Novocain. Or shut my finger in the truck door repeatedly. Either would be great at this point.