A Woman's Revenge

by Sherri L. Lewis

  Every day after school, she’d be waiting for me. We’d walk home and stop at the park. She pushed me on the swing forever, and then we’d slide down the slide and she’d ride on the merry-go-round with me, even though she was a grown woman. When we got to the house, she’d do most of my homework so I wouldn’t get yelled at when Grandma came home from work.

  Every once in a while, Roxie would get a job and I wouldn’t see her as much. It never lasted for more than a few months though. She always found some reason to quit, or got in a fight with someone and got fired. Or got caught sleeping with someone and had to leave before she got fired.

  Whenever she wasn’t up under some man, it was always me and her. Having fun, laughing, and getting into all kinds of trouble that my grandmother said would kill her before her time.

  Until Mr. St. James came along. Then I started seeing her less and less. When it seemed like they were getting serious, she’d try to include me on their dates, but he always acted like he didn’t want me around. One night when he brought her home, I heard them arguing in the living room about how he never wanted children—not his own, and especially not any other man’s.

  The next day when I woke up, she was gone. I didn’t see her again until my grandmother’s funeral.

  So even though I knew it was important to do right and serve God, I never really got over the fact that He took away the two women I really needed in my life at important times in my life. I served Him because it was the right thing to do, but I didn’t take it overboard like Janine. All that praying and helping people was too much to ask. I figured as long as I didn’t commit any of the big sins, me and God should be straight.

  I flipped through the channels trying to drown out a nagging realization. Not only did I need to forgive Blake and Roxie. Maybe I needed to forgive God, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blake’s day off turned into almost a whole week. I guessed he couldn’t bear the thought of being at work while he was wondering whether he had HIV. I knew he had to be scared out of his mind. I couldn’t imagine waiting and wondering every day until those test results came back. I called him and texted him every once in a while during the week with work questions. He’d send brief answers. I probably should have been the caring fiancée and tried to press him and find out what was wrong. For real though, I was enjoying the break from being around him all the time.

  While he was gone, I caught up on things at work. It was peaceful in the office, and I realized I actually liked my job. I just didn’t want to be there with him. Hopefully, I could find something similar in another law office somewhere.

  On Thursday afternoon, Blake called, his voice sounding completely different than it had all week. “Sabrina, dear, how are you?”

  “Fine, Blake. Are you okay?”

  “I am absolutely wonderful. Never better.” I didn’t think I had ever heard him sound so happy. He must have gotten a call from his doctor’s office and found out that his test was negative.

  “Is everything okay at the office?” he asked. “Sorry to have left you all week, but . . . it couldn’t be helped. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  My stomach sank. I considered calling in sick the next day to avoid him.

  “You have to let me make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow night at my place?”

  Ugh. The last thing I felt like was spending an evening with Blake. “Of course, dear. That sounds wonderful. Should I order something to be delivered?”

  “I’ll have Bella cook something for us before she leaves. See you about eight?”

  I crossed my eyes and let out a deep breath, but made my voice cheerful. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  I hung up and thought about how his voice sounded. He was almost . . . kind. I wondered if spending the week at home thinking he might have a scary disease had made him think about himself and maybe have some sort of change of heart about the way he’d treated me and his other women.

  A few minutes later, Paris approached my desk with her gossip face on.

  “Hey, Paris, what’s up?” I really didn’t want to hear what she had to say, but it was honestly the only way to get rid of her. I rearranged several briefs on my desk and opened a file on my computer. Maybe if I looked busy she’d spill the info quickly and then go away.

  “Nothing. Just came by to say hi.”

  That was her technique when I was supposed to beg the information out of her. “Okay, then. Hi, Paris. Thanks for stopping by, but as you can see, I have tons of work to do.”

  “For now,” she said, baiting me.

  “What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

  “Nothing.” She pressed her lips together with a too-serious look on her face.

  “Paris, I’m not in the mood. If you have something to say, just say it. Otherwise I’d really like to get back to work.”

  She looked offended. “You’re being pretty rude for a person who’s about to be unemployed.”

  Now she really had my attention. I turned away from my computer monitor and stood, facing her. “What are you talking about?”

  She smirked. “Come on. You know what’s been going on around here. Wonder Boy has completely fallen apart. First that fiasco with those . . . things from that . . . store. And then the magazines. And then blowing that huge Peterson account. And now rumor has it that something happened Sunday at his church that makes his integrity questionable. And you know in this business integrity is everything.”

  My mouth went dry and my hands started to shake. Apparently I was finally giving Paris the reaction she came here for. “All I’m saying is, instead of planning to move to that fancy partner office, you may want to start looking for a new job. Because your man’s days here are numbered.”

  My eyes flew open.

  “Please, Sabrina. You think I don’t know?” Paris rolled her eyes and walked away.

  Those guilty feelings flooded me again. I looked up at the ceiling, wanting to talk to God but feeling so awful about what we had done that I couldn’t think of anything to say. I had to tell Blake what was going on. If he knew what was coming, maybe there was some way he could salvage his position at the law firm.

  More importantly, I needed to talk to Roxie. I never knew when the next revenge step would be executed and I needed to stop it before it started.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roxie seemed all too happy when I called her and told her we needed to talk. She was busy that evening but said we could get together the next day. I decided to call in sick since Blake would be back in the office. If my days at the company were numbered, I might as well use up all my sick time.

  When I arrived at Roxie’s place, I stood outside her door for a few minutes, not sure what to do. I wanted to tell her to end the whole thing. Even though Blake treated me—us—so badly, I didn’t want to go a step further with her ten steps to revenge. I would say thanks for all her help and say good-bye.

  After she opened the door, Roxie studied my face as I stepped into the foyer of her apartment and stood there without talking.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Roxie turned slowly and walked into her kitchen, indicating with a nod of her head that I was supposed to follow her. She had on a beige lounging outfit with an apron tied around her. “Come on in the kitchen.”

  Stepping into the kitchen with her brought back memories. Sweet memories. Her kitchen was sleek and modern with stainless steel appliances, black marble countertops, and dark, hardwood floors. There were a few things that didn’t quite fit the art deco décor. There was a set of country-looking cookie jar canisters, just like the ones we used to have in Grandma’s kitchen in our old house in Annapolis. The old spice rack, breadbox, and cast iron skillets looked exactly like the ones Grandma used to have.

  I saw Roxie watching me take it all in. “Just a few touches can make it feel like home, huh?”

  I nodded without saying anything. There was a big picture of Grandma on the wall over the eat-in kitchen table. I stared at her for a minut
e, feeling the pain of losing her all over again. Seemed like my life ended when she died. I had been lonely since the day I watched them lower her into the ground.

  “Where’d you get that picture? All this stuff?”

  “I took a few pictures when I left.” Roxie looked around the kitchen. “Other stuff I’ve collected little by little over the years. Anytime I saw something that reminded me of her . . . of you, I would pick it up.”

  I nodded.

  “I know you think I left without looking back and without thinking about you two, but I didn’t. You were always there with me. In my heart.”

  I didn’t want to feel anything, but ever since Janine started praying, I couldn’t seem to make my heart as hard or cold against Roxie. “So what’s the plan for this evening?” Even though I wasn’t as angry, I still didn’t want to be all mushy with her.

  She smiled. “We’re gonna bake a cake. Just like old times.” Her eyes twinkled. “You said Blake’s favorite was German chocolate, right?

  I frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

  She smiled that diabolical smile. “Because there’s nothing like the sweet taste of revenge.”

  Roxie went to the cabinets and started pulling down ingredients. “Here, help me with this.” She pulled out a large mixing bowl identical to the one that Grandma used to bake all her cakes and pies with.

  My eyes widened.

  She laughed. “Brings back memories, huh?”

  I nodded.

  I started quietly sifting flour while Roxie creamed a few sticks of butter. I knew we were both remembering our baking Saturdays in the kitchen with Grandma. She would teach us all her best recipes and we’d spend all day in the kitchen laughing, eating, listening to Grandma’s stories from when she was a little girl, and hearing Roxie’s tales of the life she would live when she left Annapolis.

  “I guess you ended up with the life you always wanted, huh?”

  Roxie looked up and a sad smile crossed her face. I knew she was reliving the same memories when she answered me without skipping a beat. “Yeah, I did everything I ever thought I wanted to do. But looking back, I missed out on what mattered most in life.”

  I measured out the baking powder and added it to the flour.

  Roxie measured out cocoa powder and set it aside. “I always wondered what you were doing. Where you were. How your life had ended up. I know you don’t believe me, but there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about you.”

  I greased and floured the three round cake pans Roxie had pulled out. Grandma was famous for making huge three-layer cakes that melted in your mouth. I could never eat a whole piece. Blake would usually eat his entire slice and then finish off mine.

  Roxie poured the batter into two of the pans and dropped them onto the counter a few times to get rid of any air bubbles. “Wanna taste?”

  I smiled. “I’ll lick the bowl when we’re through.”

  “No bowl licking today. If you want a taste, you better get it now.”

  Roxie chuckled and I knew she was remembering how we fought over who would get to lick the bowl when we finished mixing our cakes. The smile left her face and she looked up at me. “I was so young and so not ready. That’s all I can say, Sabrina.”

  I looked away. “Aren’t you gonna pour the third pan?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Not quite yet. We need a special ingredient for the third layer.” She disappeared from the kitchen and came back with a small brown bag. She reached in and pulled out a box.

  I read the label and my eyes flew open. “Ex-lax? Oh my goodness, Roxie.”

  She laughed that deep, hoarse laugh as she saw the shock on my face. “Didn’t you say he had that big presentation tomorrow morning? This cake will be ready just in time for you to take it upstairs for your date tonight. You’ll eat it with him so he won’t be suspicious. Just don’t eat the top layer.”

  I laughed for a second, but then felt that twinge of guilt. I didn’t say anything for a few minutes and watched Roxie melt the ex-lax and mix it with the remaining batter. She poured the mixture into the third cake pan and put all three pans in the oven.

  “Now, you go into my bedroom. There’s a box on the bed for you. Put that on and I’ll be there in a few minutes after I clean up this mess.”

  I frowned at her. She smiled and shooed me away. “Just go. It’s the room on the left.”

  I walked into Roxie’s bedroom. It was a larger bedroom than I would have expected for a condo. It had a main area for the bed and nightstand and stuff and then a little sitting room off to the side. She had a large bed with a satiny red comforter covered with pillows. On the bed there was a large white box.

  I opened it and pulled out a beautiful red dress. I looked at the tag and saw it was a size four. Roxie bought me a dress? There were also some red pumps in the box, higher than I would have ever dreamed of wearing, and some beautiful red and silver jewelry. I quickly slipped the dress on. It fit a lot closer than the clothes I usually wore and the clinginess of the material made me wonder how much of me I was showing. The fabric was rich and silky and I wondered how much Roxie had paid for it. I sat on the bed for a second, remembering how much Roxie used to love to bring me the cutest outfits, shoes, and jewelry when we were growing up together.

  I looked over into the sitting room and noticed a familiar book on a small nightstand. It was Grandma’s old photo album that had gone missing the day Roxie left. I walked into the room and picked it up and started turning through the pages. There were lots of pictures of me at all different ages. There were pictures of Grandma mixed in and several pictures of me and Roxie together.

  As I turned farther toward the end of the book, I realized there were pictures of me later in life, after Roxie had left. I gasped when I saw a picture of me dressed for my senior prom, of me graduating from high school, copies of my diploma, of me about to go on my first date.

  “See, I was there, sorta. . . .”

  I whipped around to see Roxie standing behind me in the doorway. Her eyes glistened. “You look absolutely beautiful in that dress, Sabrina.”

  “Where . . . where did you get these pictures?”

  Roxie walked over to stand next to me in her sitting room. “I took them when I left.” She ran a finger over my prom and graduation pictures. “The rest your grandmother sent me. She mailed me packages every so often, all full of stuff about you.”

  My eyes fell on a little table in the corner. Perched on top was an old, raggedy brown doll with one missing eye and stringy hair. I let out a deep breath. “Mimi?” I went over and picked up my favorite childhood toy. It had also disappeared when Roxie left. I was done playing with dolls by that time so it didn’t bother me that much.

  “Sorry. I took her. I just needed something . . .” Roxie looked down at the floor. A tear trickled down her cheek. “I slept with that doll every night. No telling how many of my tears are soaked into her clothes. Mr. St. James fussed about it every night but I told him it was all I had left of my daughter and if the doll left, I left.”

  I swallowed hard. Part of me was angry. But what I felt the most was pity. Staring into her eyes, I realized that in her running off to chase her dreams, Roxie had lost what it took her too long to realize mattered the most.

  She wiped her face. “Come on. We gotta get you ready for your date.” She led me into her bathroom. It was huge with a shower and marble Jacuzzi tub and a double bowl vanity. She sat me down on an antique chair in front of her large mirror and pulled a makeup palette out of a drawer. She set it on the vanity and stood behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

  We both stared at our reflections, looking at our own face in the other’s. Another tear trickled down Roxie’s face. She reached for the bun at the back of my neck and pulled out the pins that kept it in place. “You have such beautiful hair. Always did.” She tousled it a little and made it look wild. She took a large brush and began pulling it through my hair without saying a word. More tears poured down her cheeks.r />
  I didn’t want to say a word. I felt years of anger, hatred, and bitterness pouring out of me into a puddle at my feet. I felt a sting on my cheek and realized I had tears flowing as well.

  “Now how am I supposed to put you in some makeup with your face all wet?”

  I smiled through my tears and wiped my face. “I don’t like a whole lot of makeup.”

  “You don’t need a lot. Just the basics.”

  After she finished my makeup and hair, Roxie stood me in front of the mirror. “Such a beautiful girl.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “I would apologize a thousand times if I thought it would make a difference.” She turned me to her and grabbed both my hands. “I missed so much, Sabrina. Please don’t make me miss more. I . . . I want to be in your life again. Even if you can’t see me as your mother, can we at least be friends?”

  I stood there with my mouth open. I didn’t know what to say. Could I forgive her? Could I let her be a part of my life?

  My cell phone rang. We both stood there frozen for a few seconds and then she picked it up off the counter and handed it to me. “I’m sure it’s him. What time are you supposed to be upstairs?”

  “Eight o’clock.” I looked down at the phone. It was Janine’s number. I didn’t answer it.

  “I better get those cakes out of the oven and into the fridge for a second so they can be cool enough for me to put the icing on. Go ahead and put some powder on and meet me in the kitchen.” Roxie gave my hair one last pat and walked out of the bathroom.

  A few seconds later, a text message came through from Janine:

  Just wanted to let you know that I was praying for you. God is going to give you the strength to forgive. Promise me that when you do, you’ll share your mommy with me. Love you forever.

  I sat there looking at myself in the mirror. I looked more like Roxie than I did myself. And I had to admit that I did feel beautiful. In spite of myself, I had turned out more like her than I ever wanted to be.