Roxanne

The clock on the stove read 2:25 and due to the darkness and silence that had engulfed the house, I was able to assume that AM should have followed. After looking around the kitchen slowly, as if afraid that my aunt had actually sat up and waited to me to come into the kitchen at 2 in the morning and coming to the realization that she hadn’t done such a ridiculous thing, I quietly made my way into the room and over to the fridge.

For someone who had been pretty damn wide awake, and frankly far too upset to even consider falling asleep, I had done a good job. And now that I was finally awake after sleeping for the entire day, I had realized that I was starving. In fact, my strong hunger had been what had woken me up early that morning.

Waking up and remembering everything that had occurred within the past 12 hours was enough to make me crawl back into a fetal position and hide for the next week, however before I was able to continue to dwell about how pathetic my life was, I accepted that I needed food and had decided to sneak downstairs.

Upon opening the fridge with the expectations to just find leftovers from the night before when I had made my aunt dinner, I was surprised to find a small plate of what seemed to be penne a la vodka with my name on it. Literally.

With a cocked eyebrow and assumption that I was surely dreaming, I took the dish from the fridge and carried it over to the island in the center of the kitchen.

Sure enough, there had been a piece of paper attached to the plate of pasta with my name on it. Upon taking it off, I realized that it was a note. My stomach fell. I had gone into the guest room and locked the door in hopes of being alone and completely avoiding all conversation with my aunt. Apparently she had found the only way to grab my attention: food.

After a few moments of hesitation, I unfolded to paper. Fortunately, what my aunt had written hadn’t been long. Unfortunately, it was one of the last things I had been in the mood to read.

Roxanne,
I’m sorry for the nasty things I said to you earlier. We need to talk about this. I promise to listen this time. Hope this helps convince you.
Aunt Jen

I didn’t want to talk about what had happened earlier that afternoon. Even if my aunt had decided to give me the benefit of the doubt and sit down to actually listen to me, I would end up telling her the opposite of what she would want to hear.

I was sure that after thinking about that day’s events my aunt had eventually come to the conclusion that Billie had forced himself into my aunt’s pool with me and then himself onto me. In her eyes, I was more than likely nearly a rape victim. I had done nothing wrong and it had been such a relief when my aunt had saved me. She had saved me and as for that conversation in her kitchen? Well, Billie had brainwashed me, of course. What other explanation could I truly have?

Perhaps that’s what I would tell her in order to correct everything that had happened. My aunt would be thrilled to hear that I really wasn’t actually stupid enough to be with someone like Billie and I wouldn’t have to worry about what Billie would think about me saying such disgusting things about him considering the fact that there was absolutely no way that I would ever hear from him again after an afternoon like that.

Problem solved.

I sighed softly to myself and slid onto a stool at the island, ready to down the entire plate of pasta. In order to get to my heart, a male didn’t have to buy me diamonds or flowers or any of that artificial crap—they needed to make me penne a la vodka. Bryan had done it for just about every occasion possible and by our last anniversary, it had been better than any restaurants I had ever had.

I smiled sadly as I looked down at the plate of pasta, remembering the last time that I had had it: my birthday. Bryan had taken me to Manhattan for the day, considering how close we lived to it. He had blindfolded me, put me in a cab and covered my ears in order to tell the cab driver where to go. He even went as far as to have kept me blindfolded once we were at our destination, lead me blindly for at least another fifteen or so minutes and then had me sit down in grass, still blindfolded. When he had finally removed the bandanna from around my eyes, I had begun to cry at once.

Bryan had set up a picnic for us in the middle of what I automatically knew was Central Park. Considering the fact that it been a weekday far before summer, which was prime time for tourists, and in the early evening, the park was empty. The main entrée for dinner that night had been his “world famous” penne a la vodka.

If I had known that that would be the last time that I would ever have eaten the dish that he had perfected just for me, perhaps I would have savored each bite a little more.

Perhaps if I had known that our relationship was going to kick the curb only a matter of weeks later, I would have savored that moment a little more.

It wasn’t until a felt drop of liquid hit my leg that I realized that I was, indeed, crying. Upon such a realization, I gasped and began to frantically wipe at the tears that were steadily leaking from my eyes. Despite how much I wiped, the tears began to pick up pace until I was forcing myself to also muffle long, sad sobs.

If I had known that Bryan was going to actually leave me only a few weeks after that dinner, I wonder if I would have even gone at all. If I had known that he was going to choose a goddamn state and college over me when I was eleven years old, I wonder if I still would have had that damn crush on that kid with the beautiful blue eyes.

How could Bryan have picked California over me? Wasn’t he supposed to have loved me? Why had he even gone and applied to a school across the country from me? And even after he had applied, why had he committed to it? Bryan had been accepted to Columbia in Manhattan. My parents owned an apartment in New York. I could have gone and lived with him in New York. Sure, I would have had to commute to my high school for my last year, but wouldn’t it have been worth it?

I couldn’t imagine loving another man as much as I had loved Bryan Bates. He had been my everything. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually made a decision without at least considering how it would affect him or us. So why had he left me?

Billie at least had a reason. My aunt had gone psychotic on his ass and scared him off. My family, however, had loved Bryan. My father had considered him a son along with my mother. So why?

What had I done to make him go? Why hadn’t Bryan loved me enough to stay? Even if he had truly wanted to go to California, couldn’t he have transferred after I graduated in a year?

I scowled loudly as I continued to hastily wipe at the tears that continued to drip down my cheeks. This wasn’t healthy. This is why my parents had sent me to California—to prevent moments like this. But that was stupid. No matter where I was, I was going to feel the loss of Bryan. He had been my second half.

So why. Why had he left me?

I grabbed my phone from off of the table in front of me without so much of a second thought and went straight to my address book. Of course I had had Bryan’s cell phone number memorized for at least a year now, however if I was his ex-girlfriend, I would not allow myself to contact him out of memory. I would have to do it the way that showed that I was over him—having to find his name because I couldn’t remember it.

It wasn’t far down the list considering his name had started with B. I scrolled down the list of names until his appeared in the middle of it. Coincidentally, his name was directly underneath Billie’s. I snorted without any humor.

I stared down at Bryan’s name for a few minutes, glaring at it as if he could physically feel the look that I was giving his name. I wanted him to feel the pain that he had caused me. The heartbreak I had and currently was continuing to feel. The unbearable loneliness. I highlighted his name, however at the direct moment that I was about to place the phone call, my phone froze.

“Shit,” I hissed. I automatically smacked the side of it. I had finally built up the courage to call Bryan, to ask him why he had torn my heart out and left me as if I was nothing, and my phone had decided to fucking freeze.

I went to flip my phone over and take out the battery, however as soon as I removed the back panel to my phone, it began to vibrate. I cocked an eyebrow in surprise and flipped it back over as it continued to vibrate. My heart stopped at the name that lit up the screen.

Billie J.

I stared down at my phone for a few more seconds, baffled at what exactly was going on while my heart began to actually pound from inside my chest. I was almost positive that I could hear it thumping. Was I truly receiving a phone call from Billie at 2:30 in the morning? There had to be no way that this phone call had been meant for me. This was so ridiculously obviously a mistake that once I was sure that I wasn’t having any form of heart failure, I began to flirt with the idea of denying the call.

Instead of actually hitting the deny button, my finger ghosted over it and pressed itself to accept the call. As my phone started to count the seconds of the phone call, I continued to stare at the screen. I wiped a few tears that had dripped from my eyes off of it before slowly lifting it to my ear.

My arm was shaking as if I had been sitting in a pile of snow clad only in a bikini.

“Hell-,” I coughed and cleared my throat. “Hello?” I answered. My voice was shaking and I wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact that I had been bawling only a matter of seconds ago or that I was expecting this phone call to truly be the icing on the cake of my awful day.

“Roxanne?” As if the thought of Bryan hadn’t been enough to make me cry only a few minutes ago, the sound of Billie calling my voice through the phone right at that moment sent me into a fit of more sobs that I forced myself to mute. I couldn’t do anything about the amount of tears racing down my face. “Oh Jesus, fuck, I didn’t think you’d actually answer, I’m so sorry.”

I sniffled and lifted a shaking hand to clear my eyes. Something had sounded incredibly off about Billie at the moment. Despite the fact that I was overjoyed at the fact that he had actually called me, I was also becoming somewhat confused. Something was most certainly different about his voice, however I couldn’t put a finger on as to what.

“Don’t be sorry,” I answered. I rolled my eyes at how stupid I had sounded. Had that really been all I could come up with at the moment? Just for him not to be sorry? There was no way that Billie had liked me for my conversation skills, that was for sure. “I was already awake,” I added.

“You were?” He asked. He sounded absolutely baffled. Despite it all, a small smile tugged at my lips. “What the fuck are you doing awake, Roxanne? It’s fuckin’ two in the morning, you should be asleep getting your fuckin’ beauty sleep—not that you need it. You’re gorgeous as fuck already.” He paused and I’m damn positive that he burped. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.” I wasn’t sure he was referring to the belch or his rambling.

As soon as it dawned on me, I was shocked that it had taken me so long to realize what exactly had been so off about Billie at the moment. Perhaps if I hadn’t been a miserable, pathetic crying mess at the beginning of the phone call I would have noticed the fact that he was certainly inebriated much sooner.

“I just woke up,” I stated. “I’ve been sleeping all day, and I woke up hungry, so I came downstairs to get something to eat.” I wasn’t sure why I was explaining myself to him, he probably wouldn’t remember this is the morning anyway.

“You’ve been asleep all day?” Billie asked incredulously. I rolled my eyes. I didn’t really need him judging me at the moment. “Shit, since I left?” He asked. My lack of response confirmed his query. “Oh, shit, Roxanne, I’m so sorry, baby,” he cooed. Despite the fact that him calling me baby made my stomach flip, I did my best to ignore it. He was intoxicated. I couldn’t get attached to anything that he would say to me at the moment. “I’m a fucking pussy for leaving you there like that today. I fuckin’ suck.” I tried to cut him off in order to argue that him leaving really was not only the best, but only thing he could have done that afternoon, however he wasn’t hearing it. “I was a fuckin’ coward and shit, I’m so glad you picked up. I didn’t think you would. I thought you fuckin’ hated me. You have every right to, I just fuckin’ left you there.”

I was tempted to ask Billie if he kissed his mother with that mouth of his sarcastically, however decided against it. “Billie,” I called. I was loud enough to interrupt his obscenities, however soft enough to not be heard outside of the kitchen. “It’s best that you left. My aunt probably would have called the cops on you because she’s just like my dad—a drama queen. You honestly wouldn’t have been able to help the situation at all.”

Billie sighed loudly and I smiled. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he had convinced himself that I had hated him. How could I have hated him for leaving when my aunt was threatening him?

“Are you okay?” He asked after a moment of silence. “Your aunt was about to turn into the Hulk when she kicked me out. I still feel like a goddamn coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” I argued. He didn’t say anything and I took it as a momentary win. “I’m fine,” I added. “I argued with her a little bit more and then just locked myself in my room for the rest of the day. How are you?”

By now I had slid off of the stool, wrapped the plate of pasta back up and placed it back into the fridge before creeping up the stairs and back into my current bedroom. I didn’t want to take any chances of my aunt hearing me up and going into the kitchen to find me on the phone with Billie. I’m not sure that would have been the sort of talking she wanted to do with me.

“I’m alright,” Billie muttered. He groaned quietly and I could almost see him running a hand through his hair hastily. “I had a shit day. I should have just gone to fuckin’ sleep once I got back to my house, but my friends called and wanted me to go down and listen to a song that had been finished recording.” He sighed. “It fucking sucked. I don’t even know if I want to do this shit anymore, y’know? I’m not feeling it and they’re sick of my shitty attitude they say. I’m trying to make a fucking record that doesn’t suck for once and it’s, just, well…it’s just not happening.”

I hadn’t had even the slightest clue as to what to say to Billie after he had finished him small rant. Billie had never openly spoken to me about his band before, other than to tell me that he was in one. I had had no clue that they were going through any trouble whatsoever. Come to think of it, I had had no clue about anything to do with them, other than the fact that they apparently went by the name of Sweet Children. “I’m sorry,” I finally spluttered. I felt stupid. I had absolutely nothing to offer to the poor guy that was now pouring his emotions out to me.

Billie laughed. “Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. He was beginning to sound more like the Billie that I had begun to get accustomed to. “I’m sorry for unloading all of that shit on you, I’m sure you don’t give a rats ass about it.” Another groan. “I can’t blame you, I don’t either.” Another sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you as soon as I got home,” he apologized. “I was afraid your crazy aunt would pick up and I’d fuck you over even more, y’know?” I nodded despite the fact that I knew that he couldn’t see me. I couldn’t be angry at him, not that I had even considered it for this. “I was going to call you this evening but then they called me into the studio and then we got into a fight about that so I left there, and,” he paused as he laughed, “and then I went and got drunk. Shit, Roxanne, I’m drunk. I’m sorry for calling you.”

While I had never been a fan of drinking or smoking, I couldn’t be angry at Billie for calling me while drunk. After all, he was thirty one years old. The man could drink whenever the hell he wanted and I would look stupid for even considering saying a thing about it. And while all the drunk people I had experience with had been stupid high schoolers who couldn’t hold their liquor and just ended up being obnoxious, emotional assholes when they weren’t throwing up, Billie was actually somewhat adorable.

“Don’t be sorry,” I murmured. I cradled the phone against my ear as I closed my eyes briefly. I would have done almost anything to be sitting in Billie’s home, holding his actual body against me rather than just a piece of technology. At the moment, his voice honestly wasn’t good enough.

Billie sighed. “I just missed you,” he admitted. While I had been sure that I had finally gotten my emotions under control, and my tears had finally stopped, I didn’t miss the way my heart seemed to skip a beat. Before I could even bother responding, I realized that I was crying once again.

I felt stupid. There was absolutely no reason for me to be crying at the moment. Billie was drunk. He had told me that he missed me while he was intoxicated. It wasn’t as if the guy was confessing his love for me.

But then again, at a time where I had never felt so alone and quite honestly so unwanted by everyone around me, it was nice to know that I actually did mean something to someone.

I would have told Billie that I also missed him at the moment, however he continued before I could. “I want to see you, Roxy,” he continued. “No offense to your aunt, but I don’t give a flying fuck as to what she thinks about me. If she hasn’t brainwashed you into thinking I’m the enemy yet, or you haven’t taken her side, I’d really like to see you. As soon as possible.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at Billie’s words about my aunt. I was almost positive that he would have rephrased that sentence had been sober. “No, she hasn’t brainwashed me yet.” I sighed quietly. “But I don’t know,” I admitted lamely. “I don’t think that you should come here for a while. If she’s anything like my father, she’ll be popping in a lot more than she used to.”

Billie scowled and muttered a few obscenities. I wasn’t sure if it was at what I had just predicted, or something irrelevant to the conversation. “So I won’t go there,” he stated. “Is there some rule that in order to see you I have to be at your aunt’s house?” He chuckled.

I realize how stupid I must have sounded by just assuming that the only way Billie would see me would be at her house, but at the same time, it really had been what I assumed. I wasn’t going to let him continue to take me out every single time he saw me. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel as if he had to spend any money at all to be in my presence.

“Well, share your ideas, Einstein,” I snapped back playfully.

“I own and live in a house, Roxanne,” Billie stated. With his tone, I was partially expecting him to add duh at the end of his sentence.

I cocked an eyebrow and tapped my finger to my lip as I considered the new option that Billie had brought to the table. I had never even considered his house, much to my own surprise. It was almost as if I had forgotten the fact that Billie had to have lived somewhere.

“I don’t know how good you are with Berkeley yet, so I could come and get you and bring you here,” he offered. It all sounded so easy to the point where I felt foolish for not even having considered it.

“That wouldn’t work,” I stated. “What if my aunt came come and found me gone but both of her cars here? She’s not going to believe that I just walked wherever I went when she provided me with a car.” I shrugged. “I’m really good with directions, I honestly could probably find it.”

“Good,” Billie said. “Tomorrow, then?”

Despite how appealing the thought of seeing Billie within a few hours sounded, I couldn’t help but to frown. There was absolutely no way that my aunt wouldn’t know that I went to see Billie. There was no doubt of the fact that she would be coming home tomorrow during her lunch, especially considering how much she seemed to want to talk to me. And what would I say when she asked why I wasn’t there? I had no idea where the hell I was, it wasn’t as if I could tell her I just decided to go out.

“My aunt’ll know,” I mumbled. “She’s definitely going to come and check on me tomorrow. She’s going to flip when she finds out that I’m not here.”

Billie scoffed. “So tell her you went shopping, Roxanne. You’re a fucking teenage girl. That’s like, the reason you’re living.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Billie’s beliefs of the teenage girl stereotype. I couldn’t exactly argue, however considering the fact that I did have a small obsession with shopping.

"And what about when she asks me what I bought?" I challenged. "She's going to, and I'll have nothing to show her."

Billie sighed and I couldn't help but smile. He obviously hadn't been a fan of me playing devils advocate. "So show her a dress you brought with you. You've only been here a week and I'm sure you've got thousands of them."

He had a point. I had brought many dresses to wear over the few weeks that I would be staying in california and I'm sure my aunt had only seen the few that I had actually had time to wear.

"You're creative," I pointed out. "Especially for being intoxicated."

Billie snorted. "I'm fucking fantastic, Roxanne, what can I say." I couldn't help but giggle at Billie's what I assumed to be false ego. "So it's settled then, right?" Billie continued. "I get to see your beautiful face again tomorrow?"

I pressed my fingers to my mouth as if to try to stop an ugly, embarrassing smile from taking over my features, however it didn't do me much help. Even while drunk, the man was charming. However, despite the excitement that was bubbling in my chest, I couldn't help but to be a bit worried. I knew damn well that there was a good chance that, if Billie was anything like Bryan when he drank, he would wake up the next morning and not remember a thing from the previous night. I didn't want to just show up at the mans house the next morning to have him confused as to why I was there.

To be honest, I probably would have just gone back to Connecticut had that happened.

"Roxy?" Billie called.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I murmured. "I can't see any reason why not." Truth was, I could see many, but considering the fact that I had hit rock bottom a few moments before Billie had called me that evening, I didn't care about any of them. "Just call me when you wake up tomorrow, and we'll figure out everything then."

Billie sighed heavily. "Just come over now, then," he mumbled. "I don't want to wait until then."

I laughed quietly. I had had many "fluffy" drunk conversations in my life and while they had all been sweet, I learned to take them with a grain of salt. "I'm afraid my aunt would notice that, Billie."

He chuckled quietly, then yawned. "Okay, I'm going to go pass the fuck out. If I don't call you tomorrow morning, Roxy, call me and wake my ass up. Don't let me sleep all day."

"I will," I agreed. I knew damn well that I wouldn't. It wasn't that I was making Billie make all the moves, but more that I was terrified of calling him the next day and having him not remember this conversation. I'd just sit and torture myself by waiting for his phone call.

"Good," he mumbled. "If I don't answer, then just come over."

That was impossible considering I had no idea where he lived.

"Okay," I agreed again. Even if I had known where he lived, I wouldn't have just shown up at his door tomorrow afternoon. I wasn't that outgoing.

Billie yawned again. “Goodnight, Roxanne. I’m sorry for waking you up.” He hadn’t woken me up, and I knew that I had already explained that to him, however I just bit my tongue and accepted his apology. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he continued, “and I promise no one will come in and kick you out.”

I felt my cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment. I couldn’t help but wonder how my aunt’s antics made me look to Billie. While I knew he was joking, it still managed to get under my skin.

“That sounds like a plan. Goodnight, Billie.”

“Sweet dreams, Roxy.” And then he was gone.

I placed my phone onto the bed next to it, however didn’t lift my eyes from the screen that displayed my most recent phone calls. The last few were all to and from Billie J. A small quiver from my heart caused another ugly smile to strike my features.

After a few moments of hesitation I got up from my bed and wandered back downstairs. I knew damn well that there wasn’t much of a chance of me getting back to sleep that night and so I took the penne a la vodka from the fridge and retrieved my seat at the island.