Only Four Desire

Chapter 2

Roxie barely felt the pinch of pain from the edge of the plastic pen pressing into her palm as her grip tightened around it. A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and splattered on the open diary. Gritting her teeth, she angrily wiped it off before swiping the back of her hand against her cheek.

She had to blink a few times to clear her vision, but finally she could see what she’d written. Reluctantly, she began to read, her voice low so as not to wake up Josiah, who was still sleeping on the bed next to her.

“When I was young, I was taught that hell was a pit of flames that scorched sinful souls while a devil with a pitchfork acted the role of a punisher. They were wrong. Hell is here, and I found my hell when I stood at my parents’ doorstep, holding my son in one arm and crumpled divorce papers in the other.

The fire that burns isn’t brimstone. It is my failures that everyone feels compelled to remind me. This is hell. The judgment and glances. The reminder that I have nothing and I need help to feed my son.

There are no dramatic devils here, just the truth of me: jobless, divorced, and back in my parents’ house. Hell isn’t flames. It’s coming home.”

Roxie drew a deep breath and then exhaled. This had always been her thing. Writing in her diary when she felt as though she was drowning. It didn’t take the hurt away or fix anything, but somehow, writing it all down always made her feel as though she’d purged it from her system just enough to keep going.

It also helped that she knew no one would ever read what she wrote, so she knew she could be as raw as she liked without judgment. God only knew what would happen to her if someone actually read her diary. Being disowned would most likely be in the cards.

Thinking of that ugly possibility, Roxie quickly closed the diary, making sure the lock was secure before she got off the bed and returned it to the bottom of her suitcase.

A knock came at the door just as she closed the suitcase, making her heart jump to the back of her throat and almost falling on her butt. Luckily, she caught herself with a hand on the wall before she did.

Then, with her heart still drumming in her chest, she rushed over to the door and opened it, giving her mother what she hoped was a genuine smile. “Yes?” she managed to croak out.

Roxie thought she had to work on her acting skills because Margaret Page didn’t look impressed in the least. But then again, the woman hadn’t been pleased since Roxie had arrived back home with all her worldly possessions, which had consisted of two suitcases. Elias hadn’t joked when he said she’d leave with nothing.

“Do you plan to sleep in the morning?” Margaret asked.

It was barely seven, but Roxie didn’t dare say that out loud. “I was just about to come out. Did you need something?”

Eyebrows arched, her mother gave her a look that said the answer to that question had to be obvious. It was. “I will be out to do the chores in a bit,” she promised.

Margaret shook her head, a look of disappointment written all over her face. “This is why you are supposed to be in your own house at this age,” she started. Roxie swallowed a groan. “You want to make your own schedule in my house when you know that I like my house clean before your father wakes up. Not when you feel like doing it. Honestly, Roxie, you should have stayed in your house and spared us all the headache.”

Headache? Was that how her mother saw her? Roxie wasn’t even surprised. “I told you this is temporary. I will find a job and get my own place with Josiah soon,” she reminded the woman, her teeth clenched hard as though that would stop her from saying something that would probably aggravate the situation.

At the mention of her son’s name, Margaret looked over Roxie’s shoulder to the bed, a flash of concern in her eyes. “How did he sleep?”

“Fine,” Roxie clipped.

Of course, the one-word response only fueled whatever irritation her mother felt toward her. Margaret huffed out a breath. She braced her hands on her wide hips, the image of an angry hen. “Why are you so stubborn?” she demanded.

Roxie stayed quiet. Experience had already taught her she wouldn’t win this discussion, and it was futile to try.

Taking Roxie’s silence as permission to go on, Margaret did just that. “Do you think I or all the other women haven’t gone through things in our marriages? We do. But you don’t see us packing and leaving, Roxie. If everyone just got divorced when things got messy, no one would be married. Marriage is about forgiveness. You make it work.”

“Even when he’s sleeping around?” Roxie finally asked, tired. God, she was tired of listening to one version or the other of the same conversation. It all came down to one thing. According to her mother, Roxie had made a mistake filing for a divorce. She should have stayed and fought for her marriage.

“Many men sleep around. It’s in their nature,” Margaret responded without hesitation.

Roxie shook her head. “Well, I would rather not get sick because he can’t keep it in his pants, or have a mental breakdown.”

“Strong women don’t have mental breakdowns. And I know I raised you to be a strong woman.”

“So I should just lie there and take the hits?” Roxie asked, her voice full of incredulity. “Mom, no woman should willingly put herself through the grinder for a man. Look, Mom. Elias would never have stood for it if I were the one to tell him I needed outside s****l services to satisfy me, so I don’t see why you all think I should have taken it with grace and a cup of tea.”

Margaret’s lips thinned, clearly not pleased at her inability to get through to her daughter. She pointed a finger at Roxie. But before she could say anything, Roxie cut in, already at her limit for this topic, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning.

“Can we table the rest for later? Time is wasting, Mom. Let me get dressed so I can clean the house before Dad gets out of bed.”

Then, at the risk of upsetting her mother further, but not really caring at that moment, Roxie closed the door in her face. “Jesus,” Roxie muttered quietly, her back leaning against the door.

It took a beat before she heard the woman step away from the other side of the door. All the while, Roxie had feared her mother would knock again and insist on getting her points across. Thank God she hadn’t. And thank God she hadn’t gotten to the part of ‘Think of your son,’ because that was all Roxie thought about.

Much to Elias’ disappointment, the court had granted the shared custody of their son instead of just handing Josiah over to his father as Elias had hoped.

But Roxie knew Elias wouldn’t just accept that. However, that wasn’t her current worry. Right now, she had to face the reality that she had no means to provide for her child.

Roxie was exhausted, and she’d only been divorced for a month.

She needed to get moving if she didn’t want the woman to come back. But instead of doing that, Roxie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “This is hell.”