Crazy For You

by Sandra Edwards

  She was feeling lightheaded now, and concentrating was getting harder and harder to do. She glanced around the bedroom and decided to go to her study. That’s where she wanted them to find her tomorrow, resting peacefully in the chair at her desk.

  She made it to the hallway before she had to stop to try to recall which way to go. That way, she thought, pointing to the left. “I think,” she said softly. Heading down the hallway, she felt like she could float if she really tried. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion but she made it to the study, went inside and sat down at her desk.

  Roxanne was feeling pretty fantastic at the moment. Mainly because she realized she had succeeded. She was dying.

  Candy crossed her mind. No doubt about it, she was going to be hurt by this. Maybe Roxanne should leave her a note and tell her how sorry she was that things had turned out this way. Taking a pen and paper, she prepared to write a goodbye letter to her best friend.

  She hadn’t realized how dizzy she was until she started writing, and didn’t get much further than, Dear Candy. Looking at the paper, she only saw it as “Deeaarrr Ccanddyyy”. She squinted her eyes to see if that would help. It didn’t.

  Roxanne remembered the knife. She’d put it inside her desk drawer in case her dear, sweet husband decided to come home early for a change. Her vision had deserted her, and she had to feel around inside the drawer for the weapon. She took it from the desk and tucked it between her leg and the edge of the chair. With a triumphant smile, she rested her hand on the desktop and felt a faint throbbing in her forefinger.

  She could see the blood—well, at least the redness of it—trailing down her palm and over her wrist. The notion that she was bleeding didn’t really register. She shrugged, feeling no pain. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now. She was at peace with the world. Better yet, soon she’d be rid of Frank. Or he’d be rid of her. Either way, it didn’t matter so long as she got out, which was becoming more and more of an actuality as each moment slipped by. As it did, reality flittered away as well. And it felt good.

  Draping her arm over the chair’s armrest, her blood dripped slowly to the carpet. Somewhere in the darkest recesses of her mind it registered, but she couldn’t hang on to the thought.

  Frank parked his Ferrari in the driveway at Roxanne’s house. He was eager to talk to her. His battle was over. His love for her had won out over his hatred. Again. But this time she’d be here. This time, she wouldn’t run off, because she was his wife. This time it was different. It had to be. He’d go upstairs, take her in his arms and make love to her. He’d tell her that for the next thirty days they’d do absolutely nothing but get reacquainted with one another. And when they did return from their trip, he’d help her deal with her problems. He’d give everything he had, and then some, to make the marriage work. Ultimately, Roxanne and Frankie were the only things that truly mattered to Frank. Not the fame, not the fortune, not the music. None of it mattered without her.

  Frank unlocked the door and went inside. “Roxanne…” he called out her name with a gentle sweetness.

  No answer.

  “Roxie…” his voice trailed off as he sprinted up the stairs. Heading into their bedroom, he expected to find her packing. She wasn’t there. His eye for detail caught sight of the vodka on the nightstand. Then he saw the tray and the saucers of pills. He knew what to think. He just didn’t want to believe it.

  “Roxanne…!” Frank’s powerful voice shot through the walls like a speeding bullet.

  Just hearing it stiffened her like a statue.

  Oh, shit! This couldn’t be happening. What’s he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. Then it hit her—it really didn’t matter if he was here or not. She’d already taken the pills. The damage was done. Nothing he could do would change what had already happened. There was nothing anyone could do. Frank could call every paramedic in the city, if that’s what he wanted to do, but they couldn’t change what had happened either. Roxanne would see to that—her and that knife she had buried under her leg in the chair.

  Waiting quietly at her desk, she didn’t utter a word. Frank would find her soon enough. She consoled herself with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything to stop what she’d started.

  Frank rushed into the room and when he saw her he stopped abruptly just inside the doorway. She looked pale, really wasted. The possibilities filled Frank with unease. “Roxanne,” he said weakly. Words were hard to come by. “What have you done?” he asked, ill-prepared for the truth.

  “What have I done?” She wished she could see his eyes. “What I’ve done is…I’ve managed to escape.” She had no idea Frank wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.

  “What?” He knew what she’d done. He just didn’t know what in the hell she was talking about.

  “I know you thought I couldn’t do it.” A smirk narrowly touched her lips. “But I fooled you, didn’t I?”

  “Roxanne…please, let me help you.”

  “Thank you,” she said briskly. “But you’ve done enough already.”

  “I’m not going to let you do this.” He rushed toward her.

  Roxanne’s reflexes had slowed, but the thought of Frank touching her set off a thousand warning signals in her head. Quickly, she reached for the knife and wrapped her hand firmly around the handle. She whipped the blade up to her neck. “Don’t you come near me!” Voracious hatred oozed out in her tone.

  The knife was poking into her skin. Blood was rising, but as of yet she hadn’t done any real damage. At least not to her neck.

  “Okay, baby...” he bargained swiftly. “Please, just put the knife down. I’ll stay back. I promise.”

  Frank backed up, taking a step or two out into the hallway, Roxanne lowered the knife. She breathed a sigh of relief, but she wasn’t so wasted that she’d forget just who she was dealing with. “If you come near me again…somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

  “All right.” He gave in quickly, fearing she’d slit her throat in front of him. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Frank walked away, out of Roxanne’s blurry view. She blew out a deep sigh. Dealing with him tonight hadn’t been part of her plan. The last thing she wanted was to spend her final moments justifying herself to him.

  Roxanne had other things to concern herself with—like the fact that she was growing tired. She laid the knife down and massaged her forehead, trying to figure out how to stay awake. Thinking was becoming an increasingly hard thing to do. With a sudden urge to lie down, she lay her head on the desk. Just for a few minutes. That’s all she needed. A couple minutes of rest.

  Frank went downstairs and called the paramedics, then Jerry. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know how many pills she’d taken, but he could guess it was too much for her own good. And since she wouldn’t let him near her, there was nothing he could do but call for help.

  Hearing Jerry’s voice on the other end of the line, he didn’t waste time with formalities. “It’s Frank,” he said, breathless. “It’s Roxanne…she took a bunch of those pills you gave her.” A hint of reproach accompanied his words as he secretly blamed Jerry for what was happening. She couldn’t have taken the pills if he hadn’t given them to her.

  “How many did she take?” Jerry asked, his voice filled with calm anxiety.

  “I don’t know. A lot.” Frank paused, biting back his frustration. “Get over here now. She won’t let me near her. She put a knife to her throat when I tried to get close to her.”

  “Call the paramedics. I’m on my way,” Jerry said, and the line went dead.

  Frank went to the front door to wait. He paced the foyer, hoping someone would arrive soon. He didn’t particularly care who got there first, so long as someone got there fast. He wanted to go back upstairs and check on Roxanne but he was afraid she might hurt herself if she saw him again.

  The paramedics arrived before Jerry, but Frank knew that for all their good intentions they wouldn’t be of much use. Not if Roxanne had any
thing to say about it.

  “She’s upstairs. Third door on the left,” Frank told them. “I’m going to wait here for her doctor.”

  The paramedics moved swiftly up the stairs, unaware that they were about to face an unwilling patient.

  They entered the room and Roxanne sat up abruptly. She couldn’t exactly see them, but the warning signals inside her head tipped her off that someone was there to help. That notion woke her up fast. She didn’t want help. She wanted everybody to leave her alone. Just let her die in peace. Intuitively, she wrapped her hand around the knife handle beneath her leg. She wasn’t afraid of these guys any more than she was Frank. The difference was, she wouldn’t cut herself over them. But she could cut one of them if they didn’t give her a choice by getting too close.

  “It’s okay, Miss.” One took the lead, but neither of them saw the knife. “We’re here to help you.”

  “I don’t need any help,” she said, slurring her words. “All I need is for everybody to just leave me alone.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that,” the lead medic told her.

  “What’s your name?” asked the other.

  “Roxanne.”

  “Well Roxanne…it’s our job to help you.”

  “I don’t want your help,” she said coarsely. “So just go away. Go find somebody that wants your help. I don’t.”

  “Roxanne,” the lead medic spoke up again. “Do you realize that what you’ve done is a crime?”

  “Who gives a shit?”

  “Don’t make it harder on yourself,” he coaxed her. “Let us help you.”

  “Do yourself a favor—” Roxanne’s thoughts were wandering everywhere. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on one thing. “I can commit crimes. I can commit lots of crimes.” She waved the knife in the air.

  “Come on…” The junior paramedic laughed. “You wouldn’t cut us.”

  “I can cut…” Roxanne lost her train of thought and grabbed at something inside her mind. Anything. “I can.”

  Jerry rushed in, interrupting the altercation between Roxanne and the paramedics. “Excuse me,” he said, politely pushing his way past them, “I’m her doctor.”

  “Oh, Jerry…” she muttered, glad to see him. “Make them go away.”

  “Go on,” he said, “Get out of here.” Turning to the paramedics, he added under his breath, “I’ll handle it.”

  Reluctantly, the paramedics moved out into the hallway.

  “Are we alone now?” Roxanne asked.

  Alone? Jerry realized she must be so out of it that she couldn’t see any longer. “Yes. We’re alone.”

  She put the knife on the desk. Roxanne was so tired, but she didn’t know if she’d taken enough pills. Common sense told her that the longer she stayed awake the better her chances of success. She wanted to minimize the likelihood of waking up after she finally did lose consciousness.

  “Roxanne...” Frank’s pleading voice engulfed her.

  He was back. Again. Wasn’t he ever going to go away? This was not the picture she’d imagined when she dreamed up this little scheme. It hadn’t included Frank. Not onstage anyway.

  Roxanne had been longing for months to look into his eyes. Daily he’d denied her wish by hiding behind his sunglasses. That hardly seemed fair. She closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see his, he wouldn’t see hers. “Jerry,” she said, barely above a whisper, “Please, make him go away.”

  “Go, Frank. Leave us alone.”

  Frank stepped reluctantly back into the hallway to wait with the paramedics.

  “Do you want to go for a ride?” Jerry asked.

  A ride. That would be nice. “Jerry,” she said, “would you take me to the beach?”

  “You want to go to the beach?” he asked, as if it was an easy feat. “Then we’re out of here.”

  Roxanne stood, wobbling, and reached out for Jerry. He wrapped his arm around her, offering much-needed support. Even though she was shaking, she felt amazingly calm—until she got to the hallway. She might not have been able to see Frank, but he was there. She was sure of it. She wished she could see into his eyes. Damned sunglasses.

  She looked in Frank’s direction. “You...” Contempt oozed from her tone. “You never cared about anybody but yourself. I never did anything to you except love you. But that was never enough. You only wanted to punish me for trying to help you. I married you, thinking our love was something special. What a joke.” She laughed at herself. “It was all a joke. A stupid, silly little joke. One that you thought you’d get the last laugh on.” She gave a triumphant smile, hoping he’d see it. “So tell me…who’s laughing now?”

  “Roxanne…please don’t do this to yourself.” But Frank’s pleas had no influence over her.

  “Since when have you ever cared about me?” she asked, skeptical.

  “Baby, I’ve always cared about you. You know that.” He sounded convincing, but she didn’t buy it.

  “I know you’re full of shit, mostly.” She let out a sharp laugh. “You don’t give a damn about me, or what happens to me. You proved that when we got married and you started ignoring me. Well, you know what?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “For the majority of our marriage…I’ve done nothing but plot my death.” She bet that got him good. She wished she could see his face. “That trip. Our honeymoon...it was all part of my plan. I never intended to go anywhere with you.”

  “Roxanne, you don’t mean that.” He paused, trying to reconcile what was happening. “You know I love you.” Fear whipped through him. If a grain of truth existed in her blatant honesty, then she was more than likely going to leave him.

  “You’re not capable of love.” Her laughter, cold and cruel, pierced Frank like a pin cushion.

  Hope abandoned him. “Roxanne...” his voice trailed off.

  Her hand shot up in his face. “No—” She turned in Jerry’s direction, and Frank could almost see the anger melting away from her face. She said to Jerry, “Do you think we can get to the beach before I die?”

  Jerry guided Roxanne downstairs and held onto her with one arm while opened the front door with his free hand. They went outside and Frank could only watch helplessly as Jerry left with Roxanne.

  Rich walked up to the door, looking at Roxanne and Jerry over his shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asked Frank. “Why’s there an ambulance here?” Rich did a poor job of shrouding his anxiety. “And what the hell’s the matter with Roxanne?”

  “She took an overdose,” Frank said, distant. “She doesn’t want anybody to help her. She won’t let me near her. The only reason she left with him is because she thinks he’s taking her to the beach so she can die there.”

  “Oh, no…” The color drained from Rich’s face.

  “I’m going to the hospital.” Frank felt his pockets for his keys. “I know that’s where he’s taking her.”

  “I guess Candy and I will meet you there,” Rich said. Candy. How was he going to tell this news to Candy?

  Rich headed back to his house, searching for the hard-to-come-by words. Candy was going to freak.

  Inside, he found Candy sitting on the couch listening to the television.

  He sat down beside her, willing to bargain away just about anything away if he didn’t have to do this. But there was no respite. “Honey…there’s been an accident.”

  “An accident?” she said, confused.

  “It’s Roxanne.”

  “Rocky?” she asked quickly. “What’s happened to her?” Something was wrong. She sensed it in his voice. Fear washed over her and she felt around for Rich’s hand.

  “She took an overdose.”

  “What…?” Candy blurted out. “On purpose?”

  “Jerry’s taking her to the hospital. Frank’s already left to follow them.” He was silent for a moment. “I’ll take you there if you want.”

  “Of course, I want. But what about Frankie?”

  Oh, God. Rich smacked his palm against his forehead. How could he have
forgotten about Frankie? “I know...” He thought quickly. “I’ll call Glenna. She’ll come over and stay with him.”

  Jerry prayed that Roxanne would pass out before he got to the hospital. He’d toss her over his shoulder if necessary to get her inside though. But he’d just as soon not have to go through all that. He was truly surprised that she’d lasted this long. And because she had, he was afraid she was going to die.

  “Jerry?” her voice cracked, “are we at the beach yet?”

  “We’re almost there,” he assured her.