Page 8 of Roxy's Independence
“No, you wouldn’t,” I counter, chuckling. “You’re as hardheaded as I am.”
“True,” she admits, “but I’d want you to tell me if you were hurting so I try to give you that same respect.”
“Lead by example, huh?” I tease her. “You’re a good role model, Foxy.”
“So are you, Weston.”
“Are y’all gonna get sappy and lovey dovey again?” Egypt asks, exasperation in her voice.
Canyon snickers before stating, “They’re in love. Give them a break, sis, it could be worse.”
“What could be worse than them making out all the time?” Egypt asks her brother.
“They could be fighting all the time. I think I prefer this over that. Wouldn’t you, Eggy?”
“Don’t call me that!” she cries out. “I’m not a baby anymore, Canyon.”
“Maybe not,” Canyon says, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. “But you’ll always be my baby sister and it’s my right as your big brother to call you whatever I want.”
“Alright you two, stop now before this becomes a brawl,” I order.
There have been so many damn times those two start off with a playful banter for it to turn into a wrestling match with a lot of crying on Egypt’s part and a haughty attitude coming from Canyon. He’s always going to be naturally stronger than her and when he pins her down it’s like a banshee has taken over my little girl.
Ears have bled when she hits that shrill tone.
As we pack up our belongings to tote back up to the cabin, Canyon and I carrying the bulk of it, the two of them continue picking on each other. Roxy and I share an amused look because this brings back a boatload of memories for us both.
One of those times assaults me as my memory is dragged back into the past.
“Stop, Weston,” Roxy said through clenched teeth. “Stop trying to take my doll!”
“Only babies play with dolls, Roxy. Are you still a baby?” I asked her as I steadily tried to pull her Raggedy Anne doll from her hands. It’s old and dirty, well-worn, but we don’t get many gifts given to us, so when her friend got a new one from her parents, she passed this one down to Roxy and it means everything to her. But I want her to be tough, so I continue to drag it away from her. Our foster father will use every tool inhis arsenal to make her miserable, so I’m using what she loves the most against her to harden her.
“You’re mean, Weston,” She pouted, tears falling down her cheeks.
“Boo hoo, Roxy. How many times have I told you not to get attached to things? You care about anything and it giveshimsomething to use against you.”
“But she’s all I have!” Roxy hollered.
“It’s not all you have, Roxy. But it is the only thing you’ve shown him you care about. Stop it. Give me the damn doll and prove to me you can go a night without it.”
“You said a bad word, Weston. We aren’t supposed to use them on each other. You promised. I need her to sleep. Please don’t take her away.”
“I have to, Roxy. One day, you’ll understand why I’m doing this.”I used my brute strength against her, took it, and kept it hidden until she stopped asking for it. Then when I did give it back, its significance had worn off and she no longer used it as a crutch.
Every tear she shed until I gave it back still haunts me to this day. I hated myself for hurting her, but it’s the only way I knew to toughen her up and keep her sane. She didn’t talk to me for days, but in the end, the fucker had nothing to hold over her head.
Two days later, I’m standing on the sidewalk like a stalker watching Egypt and that Axel shithead clean up their supplies. My jaw is grinding and clenching to the point where it feels like a toothache is forming.
If that little dickhead keeps randomly brushing against my daughter, I’m going to need a biohazard bag to get rid of his remains. In my rational mind I know that this is innocent flirting between kids, but the father inside of me wants to rip his fingers off and shove them down his throat.
If Roxy were here, she’d be rolling her eyes skyward at my antics. But I’m impressed with myself because I haven’t marched in there and ripped her out. That’s what I want to do because her things are already washed and put away, now, she’s helping him. Why she voluntarily wants to do this is beyond my comprehension.
Most kids run at the mere mention of cleaning up.
Why can’t she be like that?
I’d prefer it in this instance. At home she fights tooth and nail when it comes to cleaning her bedroom, but if Axel was there, I bet she’d do it without any argument.
