Chapter 158: Chapter 158 - You Kept Me Alive
The woman on the bench turned her head slowly.
For a moment, Claire looked straight at Roxie and failed to recognize her.
Roxie stood under the park light with the helmet hanging from one hand.
The look lasted only a second, but it hit too hard. Roxie had spent years looking for her mother in crowded rooms, on sidewalks, in cars passing by the house, in every woman with the same hair color from behind.
Claire looked at her once and saw nobody.
Then Claire’s eyes focused.
Her face tightened with anger.
"What are you doing here?"
Roxie’s fingers tightened around the helmet strap. "I came to find you."
Claire looked past her and saw Ethan standing a few steps behind her.
"And who is this?"
Ethan stepped forward with both hands visible at his sides. "I’m Ethan."
Claire’s mouth twisted. "Ethan."
"I was Roxxane’s classmate," he said. "From Ohio."
Claire laughed.
"Classmate?" She looked him up and down, then turned back to Roxie. "What, that Prescott boy wasn’t enough for you?"
Roxie’s face went hot.
"He gave me a ride," Roxie said. "He was my classmate in Ohio."
Claire stared at her like the words had passed right by.
"Sure."
"That’s all," Ethan said.
Claire pointed at him. "Boy, listen to me. Stay away from her."
Roxie’s stomach tightened.
Claire looked at Ethan like she was warning him. "She’ll make everything your fault. That’s what she does."
Roxie stared at her mother.
Claire looked thinner than the last time Roxie had seen her. Her hair was greasy near the roots. Her jacket had stains across the front. Her eyes were red and unfocused. One shoe was untied, and the lace dragged against the ground.
Roxie hated seeing her like that.
It would have been easier if she could look at Claire and feel only disgust. It would have been easier if she could see the dirty jacket, the untied shoe, the red eyes, and decide Claire deserved every part of this.
But the first thought in her head still tried to protect her.
She was the only family Roxie had left.
She was still her mother.
Claire had kept her alive.
Roxie had used that in her head for years.
When Claire disappeared, Roxie told herself, but she feeds me.
When Claire slept through alarms, Roxie told herself, but she works when she can.
When Claire brought men into the house, Roxie told herself, but she’s doing it for us.
When Steve came to her window, Roxie had finally run out of excuses.
Almost.
Because she was still here, standing in front of the woman who had left her, and some stupid part of her still wanted Claire to look relieved.
"Come home," Roxie said.
Claire’s smile faded.
Roxie swallowed. Her throat already hurt, and Claire had barely said anything yet.
"Please. Come home."
Claire stared at her.
Roxie waited.
She hated herself for waiting.
She hated that one quiet second from Claire was enough to make her chest lift. She hated that her mind still searched Claire’s face for a mother hiding under the mess.
Then Claire laughed.
"Home?"
"Yes."
Claire stood from the bench. She swayed and grabbed the back of it until she steadied herself.
"That house is yours now, remember?"
Roxie’s throat tightened. "You can still come back tonight."
Claire stared at her.
"You can shower," Roxie said. "You can eat. You can sleep. We can talk tomorrow."
She heard herself offering things and wanted to stop.
She sounded like the adult.
Again.
She sounded like the one who had to make the plan, make the food, make the space, make the apology easier for Claire to reach.
Still, she kept going because Claire looked cold and because Roxie hated that she noticed.
"You can take my bed," Roxie said. "I’ll sleep on the couch."
Claire laughed again, louder this time. "Listen to you."
Roxie’s grip tightened around the helmet.
Claire looked at Ethan. "You hear that? My daughter is offering me a bath and a bed in my own house."
"I’m trying to help you," Roxie said.
"No. You’re trying to feel better."
"That’s not true."
"You came here with a boy so he could watch you save me." Claire lifted her hands and clapped twice, slow and mean. "What an actress. Let’s give it up for Saint Roxxane."
"Mom, please." Roxie’s voice tightened. "I came with Ethan because I was scared to come alone."
Claire’s eyes sharpened.
Roxie regretted it as soon as she said it.
Claire stepped closer. "Scared of me?"
Roxie said nothing.
Claire’s mouth curled. "Say it."
"I was scared of finding you like this."
Claire looked down at herself, then back at Roxie. "Like what?"
"Cold. Drunk. Hurt. I didn’t know."
"Hurt?" Claire laughed. "You came here to check if I finally looked bad enough for you?"
"No."
"Yes." Claire stepped closer again. "You wanted to see it. You wanted to see me on a bench so you could stand there and feel better than me."
"I wanted you safe."
"You wanted me low."
Roxie shook her head. "That’s why you think I came?"
Claire leaned closer. "Why else would you come?"
Roxie opened her mouth.
The truth sat there, small and embarrassing.
Because I love you.
She could not say it.
The words felt too weak for someone who kept using them against her. They felt like handing Claire another thing to throw.
So Roxie said the version she could survive.
"Because you’re my mother."
Claire looked away.
That hurt more than if she had laughed.
Roxie felt tears push behind her eyes and got angry at herself right away.
Really?
After all this?
After the porch, after Steve, after the house, after Claire leaving while Roxie cried for her, Roxie still wanted one look. One sign. One second of Claire acting like the word mother meant anything when nobody else was watching.
Roxie took one step closer. "I came because I thought maybe you’d come back if I asked."
"You told me to leave."
"You were trying to sell my house."
Claire’s face changed.
Roxie knew she had said the wrong thing, but she refused to take it back.
Claire repeated it slowly. "Your house."
Roxie’s voice came out lower. "Grandma left it to me."
"Of course she did." Claire laughed, but her eyes were wet now. "She always wanted to win."
"This wasn’t about winning."
"It was always about winning with her."
"It was about protecting me."
Claire’s face went red. "From me?"
Roxie said nothing.
Claire stepped closer. "Answer me."
Roxie’s fingers hurt around the helmet strap. "Yes."
Claire slapped the back of the bench with her hand.
Roxie flinched.
Claire saw it, and her mouth tightened.
"You look at me like that, then expect me to come home with you?"
"I’m asking you to come home because I still care."
"You care." Claire’s voice went flat. "You told me to get out."
"And then I asked you to stay."
Claire’s eyes narrowed.
Roxie hated how small her voice sounded, but she kept going.
"I asked you to stay, and you left."
"You remember that part, huh?"
"I remember all of it."
Claire stepped closer again. "You remember telling me to get out of my own house?"
"It wasn’t yours."
Claire laughed. "There she is."
Roxie’s eyes burned.
Claire pointed at her. "That’s the real you. Sweet little Roxxane until she gets the paper. Then suddenly she owns the house, owns the story, owns the truth."
"I found out you lied."
"I raised you."
Roxie’s throat tightened.
Claire stepped closer. "Say something to that."
Roxie looked at her mother.
"I know," Roxie said.
Claire blinked.
"I know you raised me."
Claire’s mouth moved, but no words came out.
Roxie wiped under one eye fast. "I know you fed me. I know you washed my clothes. I know you signed my school papers. I know you took me to the clinic when I was sick. I know you kept me alive."
Claire’s face shifted.
For a moment, she looked satisfied.
That made Roxie ache because even now, Claire wanted credit more than she wanted to understand.
Roxie kept talking before that look could make her quiet.
"That’s why I kept defending you."
Claire’s expression closed.
"That’s why I kept making excuses," Roxie said. "Because you did those things, and I thought maybe I was wrong for wanting more."
Claire’s jaw tightened.
Roxie’s voice shook. "But feeding me didn’t make me safe."
Claire’s eyes flashed.
"Taking me to school didn’t mean you listened when I was scared."
"Stop."
"No." Roxie shook her head. "You always say you raised me like that answers everything."
"It does answer something."
"It answers that I’m alive."
Claire stared at her.
Roxie’s eyes filled again. "It doesn’t answer why you kept choosing everyone else."
Claire’s mouth trembled, but her voice turned hard. "This is about Steve again."
"Yes. And all your other boyfriends."
Claire scoffed.
Her face twisted. "They all left because of you."
The words hit, and Roxie hated that they still could.
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