Chapter 110: Chapter 110 - Mistake
Roxie folded the paper carefully, slower than she had folded the dress at the Robinsons’ house, and pressed it against her chest with the photo book.
Then she opened her bedroom door.
The hallway was dark, but light still spilled from the kitchen.
Claire was still there.
She was standing by the sink, one hand gripping the counter while she stared out the window. The ashtray was still on the table. The lighter was beside it. The whole room smelled like smoke, stale perfume, and something bitter.
Roxie walked into the kitchen.
Claire looked over her shoulder. "What now?"
Roxie put the deed on the table.
"Read it."
Claire’s eyes dropped to the paper.
Her face changed fast, but she tried to hide it.
Roxie saw enough.
"You knew," Roxie said.
Claire turned from the sink. "Where did you find that?"
"In Grandma’s picture book."
Claire stared at the book against Roxie’s chest.
Roxie’s voice shook. "You knew this whole time."
Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
"My name is on it."
"You were a child."
"My name is on it."
Claire stepped closer and snatched the paper from the table. Her eyes moved over it like reading it again might change the words.
Then she threw it back down.
"This house should have been mine."
Roxie stared at her. "Grandma gave it to me."
"She had no right."
"She owned it."
"I was her daughter." Claire’s voice rose. "I was her daughter, Roxxane. Me. I grew up in this house. I cleaned this house. I got screamed at in this house. I listened to her tell me everything wrong with me in this house. Then she gave it to you."
Roxie held the picture book tighter. "She gave me a home."
Claire laughed. "You were a baby. You didn’t need a house. You needed diapers and someone stupid enough to stay awake when you screamed."
Roxie flinched.
Claire saw it.
Something in her face shifted. She looked tired, high, angry, and wide awake all at once.
"That’s what you were," Claire said. "A mistake that needed feeding. A mistake that cried every time I closed my eyes. A mistake everyone expected me to smile about."
Roxie’s mouth opened.
No words came out.
The picture book pressed hard into her chest. Her arms had locked around it, but she could barely feel her fingers anymore.
Claire kept going, her voice rough and ugly. "And then she gave you the house. My mother gave my mistake a house."
Roxie’s face crumpled before she could stop it.
Claire saw.
For a second, Roxie thought her mother might stop.
Claire stepped closer instead.
"You want to know why I took you to Ohio?" Claire asked. "Because I was tired of watching her hold you like you were some prize. I was tired of her looking at you like love and looking at me like I was dirt on her floor."
Roxie’s throat tightened so badly she had to swallow twice.
"I was little," she said.
Her voice sounded wrong.
Small.
Claire laughed under her breath. "You were always little when it helped you."
Roxie stared at her.
The words hit low in her stomach.
She felt the room tilt a little. She held the counter with one hand.
Claire pointed at the picture book. "You sit there crying over pictures, but you have no idea what it was like. You were cute in those pictures. Clean. Fed. Held. Then she died, and I got what was left."
Roxie’s tears slipped down her cheeks.
"What was left?" she asked.
Claire looked straight at her. "You."
The kitchen went quiet.
Roxie felt her chest squeeze.
She had heard Claire say cruel things before. She had heard yelling, blame, drunk apologies that turned into insults by morning.
But this was different.
This was clear.
Claire was looking at her like the worst thing that ever happened to her had a name.
Roxie’s name.
Her full name on the deed.
Her baby face in the pictures.
Her body standing in the kitchen, still trying to make her mother care.
Claire was crying too, but it only made her meaner.
"You think I wanted to come back here?" Claire said. "You think I wanted to live in her house with her pictures and her curtains and her neighbors whispering about how poor little Roxxane lost the only person who loved her?"
Roxie flinched.
Claire stepped closer. "Yes. I heard them. I heard all of it. Poor Roxxane. Poor baby. Poor little girl with the bad mother."
Roxie shook her head. "I never said that."
"You didn’t have to." Claire’s voice cracked. "You just had to stand there with that face."
"My face?"
"His face."
Roxie froze.
Claire wiped her cheek fast, angry at the tear. "Your father had that same look. Like I was something he regretted touching."
Roxie’s breathing turned shallow.
"I don’t even know him," she said.
"You don’t have to know him to be like him."
Roxie pressed her fingers against the counter. She needed something solid. The kitchen felt too bright, too smoky, too small.
Claire looked her up and down. "He left me with you. Then my mother gave you the house. Everyone kept choosing you after you already took enough from me."
"I didn’t take anything," Roxie said.
Her voice broke on the last word.
Claire’s mouth twisted. "You took my life before you could even walk."
Roxie’s grip on the counter slipped.
Her chest hurt. Her face was wet. Her throat burned from holding back sounds she did not want Claire to hear.
For years, Roxie had tried.
That was the thought that broke through.
She had tried to be quiet when Claire was sleeping. She had tried to clean the kitchen before Claire got mad about it. She had tried to ask for less. She had learned to make her own food. She had learned to get herself to school. She had worked. She had babysat. She had smiled in public so people would think everything was fine.
She had tried to be easy.
Useful.
Less hungry.
Less loud.
Less hers.
And Claire still looked at her like this.
Like Roxie had failed at being born.
Her hand shook as she wiped her face with her sleeve.
"You hate me," Roxie said.
Claire’s face tightened.
Roxie’s voice cracked. "You hate me."
"I never said that."
"You don’t have to." Roxie let out a shaky laugh that sounded half broken. "You just have to stand there with that face."
Claire’s eyes flashed because Roxie had thrown the words back.
Roxie cried harder. "I thought if I didn’t ask you for anything, you’d stop being angry. I thought if I got older, if I worked, if I stayed out of your way, if I stopped needing you so much, maybe you’d look at me and remember there was someone who needed you."
Claire looked away.
That hurt worse.
Roxie nodded, tears running down her neck. "But there’s nothing, right? There’s nothing I can do."
Claire said nothing.
Roxie’s voice rose. "There is nothing. Nothing."
Claire’s jaw worked.
Roxie stepped closer, shaking. "What did you want me to do? Disappear?"
Claire looked back at her.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she smiled bitterly, "Sometimes I thought it would have been easier."
Roxie stopped breathing.
Claire’s face changed right after she said it, but she did not take it back.
Roxie stared at her.
Her body went cold first. Then her stomach turned. She leaned one hand on the table because her knees felt weak.
"You mean that?" Roxie asked.
