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I am confused, and probably lookit. “Umm, I thought she was badly injured and couldn’t play.”
“I was, and they all know it.”Roxie points across the room.
“You could’ve toughed it out,”says her dad. “I played Division 3. Nobody got benched for someknee trouble. You toughed it out. If I’d gotten a chance to playDivision 1, like you, I would have toughed it out.”
“I was on the bench for months dueto injuries, Dad.” There is a pleading note in her voice. “It wasover. I was never going to be in the starting five again.”
“Damn shame,” her father mumbles,shaking his head. He’s focused on carving the turkey and not evenglancing at Roxie. “And then we had to take a second mortgage soshe could stay in Madison. She could’ve moved back home, finishedher degree at UW Eau Claire. It would’ve been much cheaper. But no.Roxie wanted Madison.”
Why is Roxie’s dad doing this toher? Is it somehow for my benefit? To drag her down in my eyes?What’s the game here? I don’t understand.
“The computer science departmentin Madison is world class.” Roxie’s neck looks strained withemotion. She’s working very hard to keep her cool. “Which is why Iwas able to pay you back every cent, and then some, within a coupleof years after I got my first job.”
“Yes, years later. When you werein college, your sister was still in school and your brother alsoneeded our help.”
“I can’t believe this,” she sayslouder, frustration and hurt clear in her voice. “It’s been twelveyears. You do this every time I come here. I thought you wanted tohelp me. Let me remind you that you didn’t want me to take outstudent loans because you said they were predatory. You wouldn’teven give me the information to apply for FAFSA until I was almostdone. I took out a loan as soon as I was able to. I don’t know whatI should’ve done differently so you wouldn’t hold this over my headforever.”
The air in the room feelscombustible. Roxie’s fuming, failing to disguise just how hurt andupset she is, while her father coolly carves the bird. Everyoneelse is leaning away from them, hoping to stay outside of the blastradius.
“Well, it’s a sore subject allaround,” Roxie’s mom Mary chimes in, trying to smooth things over.She keeps to herself and the kitchen for the most part. She’sshort, with a darker complexion and black hair that’s streaked withgray and pulled into a bun. Mary seems to be of Mediterraneanheritage, and she’s who Roxie gets her striking facial featuresfrom.
Roxie looks to her father for somereprieve, some understanding, but nothing seems to beforthcoming.
I wish I could help her. I have totry.
“Roxie’s done amazingly well forherself,” I say. “She has a great job, owns her own home. That’show we got reacquainted after all this time. I bought a condo inher building.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” her mom says,with an unmistakable note of disappointment. “So you really are herfriend and neighbor.”
This makes Roxie look bad, so Iwrap my arm around her shoulder and place a small kiss on the sideof her head. “Indeed. Best friend and best neighbor.”
I see her brother and his wifeexchange amused glances while her mom clears her throat.
“But enough about me,” I say. “Iwould love to learn more about everyone here. I know a little, butit’s easier now that I can put names to faces.”
“Will and I live in Michigan,”says Sarah, Roxie’s sister-in-law. She and her husband haveboy-and-girl twins, about eight years of age. “Roxie probably toldyou that we do Thanksgiving here and Christmas at my parents’. It’sso exciting to meet you, Chris. Roxie never brings anyonearound.”
“That’s because she always scaresthem away,” Will teases. “Remember those boys from high school? Shetowered over both of them.”
Roxie rolls her eyes, pretendingshe doesn’t care, but she’s very stiff and her face is beet red.She looks like she hopes the earth will open and swallow herwhole.
“Cut it out, Will,” Sarah helps,then turns to me. “We love that we get to meet you, Chris. A fewyears ago, we went down to Roxie’s over the summer to see her newplace. We met her neighbors. Liz and Joe, I think. They werewonderful. How are they doing?”
“They’re doing great,” Roxieinterjects, perking up a little. “But they moved to the suburbs,and they’re having a baby.” She gestures toward me. “Chris actuallybought their old condo.”
Roxie’s mom clasps her handstogether. “They’re having a baby? Oh, that’s wonderful! See,honey?” She looks at Roxie. “They have the right idea. Somethingyou should be thinking about, too. You’re not getting anyyounger.”
Geez. Roxie can’t go two minuteswithout someone taking a stab at her, can she?
“I know how old I am, Mom. Andyou’re not exactly hurting for grandkids.”
Roxie’s brother-in-law, Sam,snickers. He’s been quiet and focused on his food, seated next tothe empty chair where his very pregnant wife, Roxie’s youngersister Malorie, used to sit. Malorie is up now, wrangling theirthree kids aged between two and seven. They’re at the kiddie tabletogether with Will and Sarah’s twins, but given that they’re muchyounger, they take up all of their mother’s time. I wish Sam wouldget up and help.
“Malorie, do you maybe need somehelp with the kids?” I ask.
Malorie turns around, looking abit bleary-eyed and frazzled. “What? No. I’m fine. Sam. Get overhere.” He dutifully gets up and joins her.
“Chris, you don’t sound likeyou’re from Wisconsin,” asks Sarah. She’s my favorite of theNowaks, and the only one who doesn’t seem intent on grillingRoxie.
