Denial
It was first grade, and Roxie had wondered what it would be like to regrow a limb.
It was kind of weird. Roxie had been watching cartoons, and she felt her left leg tangled underneath the sheets of the hospital bed, but if she reached down she would only feel gauze.
Marty from class told her about salamanders. He brought one in to show-and-tell, and he said that they could regrow parts of their body. Roxie thought it was cool! She wondered what it would be like to be a salamander.
They eat bugs and swim, she guessed. She wondered what a life like that would be like.
Swimming, then pop!
You’d lose your leg. But you could regrow it. Bigger and better!
Her leg hurt. It felt like someone was twisting it very hard. She’d look down again, seeing an empty space and gauze.
And she’d wonder.
Would growing it back hurt?
Life Moves Pretty Fast
A series of Roxie memories (prewritten, but never posted until now)
Anger
It was fifth grade, and Roxie had just started doing children’s theater.
When Ms. Williams had assigned her the role of the Fairy Godmother, she was ecstatic! That was the word she used then. It was a vocab word at school. She had felt a smile creep across her face.
Only, a voice had hissed, raining on her parade.
He probably thought he was being subtle, Roxie thought in retrospect. But she still remembered those words.
“Why would the Fairy Godmother have one leg?”
Roxie had said nothing. She just fumed.
She’d find out later Joey was one of those kids. Kind of bossy, kind of… blunt? He’d been assigned the Prince, and he liked to rub it in their faces.
Maybe looking back she could have said something.
But instead, she had taken it as motivation. One-up Joey? Maybe.
So she tried really really hard. Every night, she’d practice. Her lines were memorized long before anyone else’s.
When she finally got to perform, guess what? Everyone told her that she put on a good show. And that was what mattered to her.
It was fifth grade, and Roxie had just started doing children’s theater.
When Ms. Williams had assigned her the role of the Fairy Godmother, she was ecstatic! That was the word she used then. It was a vocab word at school. She had felt a smile creep across her face.
Only, a voice had hissed, raining on her parade.
He probably thought he was being subtle, Roxie thought in retrospect. But she still remembered those words.
“Why would the Fairy Godmother have one leg?”
Roxie had said nothing. She just fumed.
She’d find out later Joey was one of those kids. Kind of bossy, kind of… blunt? He’d been assigned the Prince, and he liked to rub it in their faces.
Maybe looking back she could have said something.
But instead, she had taken it as motivation. One-up Joey? Maybe.
So she tried really really hard. Every night, she’d practice. Her lines were memorized long before anyone else’s.
When she finally got to perform, guess what? Everyone told her that she put on a good show. And that was what mattered to her.
Bargaining
It was still fifth grade, and Roxie had looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.
She’d touched the red mark near her scalp. The scar had faded some, and in the years to follow it would fade more. But she remembered what she wanted to do tonight. Her parents and Zelda, they had gone to bed. If she kept things quiet, she could probably do what she was about to without them even knowing a thing.
Roxie had noticed the other girls. They were starting to wear makeup, and she had wanted to too. She wasn’t sure what would look good on her. Maybe she could try something simple.
She opened her mother’s foundation. Roxie had known already it was good to start with “a base,” but she’d find out later that it wasn’t good to share makeup.
And she got to work.
When she was done, what was in the mirror was someone completely different.
See, the way she applied eyeliner was runny. The eyeshadow was a dark green, and some of it had gotten on her cheeks. She’d put on blush, but it wasn’t at all subtle. Her red lipstick was uneven, and it had gotten on her teeth, making her think of bloodstains.
Roxie just stared for a few minutes. Looking back, she wasn’t sure what she was trying to do, but this wasn’t what she planned.
But eventually, she laughed.
Laughed!
She looked like a zombie clown or something!
Roxie would try again. And eventually, when she was older, she’d intentionally make herself look like a zombie clown for the world to see.
It was still fifth grade, and Roxie had looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.
She’d touched the red mark near her scalp. The scar had faded some, and in the years to follow it would fade more. But she remembered what she wanted to do tonight. Her parents and Zelda, they had gone to bed. If she kept things quiet, she could probably do what she was about to without them even knowing a thing.
Roxie had noticed the other girls. They were starting to wear makeup, and she had wanted to too. She wasn’t sure what would look good on her. Maybe she could try something simple.
She opened her mother’s foundation. Roxie had known already it was good to start with “a base,” but she’d find out later that it wasn’t good to share makeup.
And she got to work.
When she was done, what was in the mirror was someone completely different.
See, the way she applied eyeliner was runny. The eyeshadow was a dark green, and some of it had gotten on her cheeks. She’d put on blush, but it wasn’t at all subtle. Her red lipstick was uneven, and it had gotten on her teeth, making her think of bloodstains.
Roxie just stared for a few minutes. Looking back, she wasn’t sure what she was trying to do, but this wasn’t what she planned.
But eventually, she laughed.
Laughed!
She looked like a zombie clown or something!
Roxie would try again. And eventually, when she was older, she’d intentionally make herself look like a zombie clown for the world to see.
Depression
It was Freshman year, and Roxie was lying on her bed, deep in thought.
She remembered the scene vividly. She’d been listening to Depeche Mode with headphones on, and with one arm draped over her stomach.
Only about… half an hour before? Let’s go with half an hour. Half an hour before, she’d overheard her parents talking. They were quiet, so they must have felt like they couldn’t hear them.
Roxie loved Mom and Dad. She loved Zelda.
She never wanted to do anything to hurt them.
And they gave her so much.
So it hurt to realize just how much money they had to spend on her when she was younger. Medical bills weren’t cheap. They had insurance, but it wasn’t enough.
Eventually, she sat up.
She pulled her laptop onto her lap.
And she had started Googling.
The search terms she used was stuff like “jobs for teenagers,” “ways to earn money as a teenager,” “jobs chattanooga high school,” and so on.
Roxie had spent most of her free time this way for a few days, until she found one.
After telling her parents, she contacted the haunted house company. Unfortunately, she didn’t get it. She was too young, and they were looking for older students. However, they did see some of her FX work, and told her that she had potential.
Roxie soon had volunteer work at a different haunt, then later got a job working at a makeup store. Later still, she’d return to the original house, her skills even better.
And the entire time, her family was proud of her.
It was Freshman year, and Roxie was lying on her bed, deep in thought.
She remembered the scene vividly. She’d been listening to Depeche Mode with headphones on, and with one arm draped over her stomach.
Only about… half an hour before? Let’s go with half an hour. Half an hour before, she’d overheard her parents talking. They were quiet, so they must have felt like they couldn’t hear them.
Roxie loved Mom and Dad. She loved Zelda.
She never wanted to do anything to hurt them.
And they gave her so much.
So it hurt to realize just how much money they had to spend on her when she was younger. Medical bills weren’t cheap. They had insurance, but it wasn’t enough.
Eventually, she sat up.
She pulled her laptop onto her lap.
And she had started Googling.
The search terms she used was stuff like “jobs for teenagers,” “ways to earn money as a teenager,” “jobs chattanooga high school,” and so on.
Roxie had spent most of her free time this way for a few days, until she found one.
After telling her parents, she contacted the haunted house company. Unfortunately, she didn’t get it. She was too young, and they were looking for older students. However, they did see some of her FX work, and told her that she had potential.
Roxie soon had volunteer work at a different haunt, then later got a job working at a makeup store. Later still, she’d return to the original house, her skills even better.
And the entire time, her family was proud of her.
Acceptance
It was the summer before senior year, and Roxie was spending the week with her aunt and uncle.
They lived on the other side of town. Chattanooga was fairly big, but far from a major city. It was a typical week with Aunt Aviva and Yosef, as well as her cousin Roza who went to a different school in the district. She had other cousins too, of course, but unlike Roza, who was close to her age, they had grown up and moved out. She talked to them, got caught up on life, she’d called Mom and Dad and Zelda to let them know things were going great. Sometimes she talked to Uncle Eli and Aunt Deborah, but they lived all the way in Georgia so she didn’t see them often.
At some point in the week, Roxie went to see her grandparents Rosanne and Daniel. They were in the graveyard, resting, along with a few other members of her family. Sometimes, she liked to sit here. It made her think.
She’d be buried here someday. It was weird to know that. But she knew that she’d be buried with her family. It was kind of comforting, in a way. An inevitability, but she knew where she would end up.
Roxie had been through a lot. At first she denied that her situation had been any different. Then, she used her anger to fuel her passions. She bargained to be changed, and while she’d been through depression and sadness, she found acceptance in the end.
She hoped that the rest of her life would be great. That she found happiness. That she’d be able to be put into the ground, knowing that she left a good impact on this world and everyone would look back on her fondly.
Eventually, Roxie left. But not before placing some stones down.
A stone for a grandmother who she was named after, who she never got to meet.
A stone for her husband, a man who passed when she was just a baby, but she could still wonder about.
And a stone for a little girl’s missing leg.
It was the summer before senior year, and Roxie was spending the week with her aunt and uncle.
They lived on the other side of town. Chattanooga was fairly big, but far from a major city. It was a typical week with Aunt Aviva and Yosef, as well as her cousin Roza who went to a different school in the district. She had other cousins too, of course, but unlike Roza, who was close to her age, they had grown up and moved out. She talked to them, got caught up on life, she’d called Mom and Dad and Zelda to let them know things were going great. Sometimes she talked to Uncle Eli and Aunt Deborah, but they lived all the way in Georgia so she didn’t see them often.
At some point in the week, Roxie went to see her grandparents Rosanne and Daniel. They were in the graveyard, resting, along with a few other members of her family. Sometimes, she liked to sit here. It made her think.
She’d be buried here someday. It was weird to know that. But she knew that she’d be buried with her family. It was kind of comforting, in a way. An inevitability, but she knew where she would end up.
Roxie had been through a lot. At first she denied that her situation had been any different. Then, she used her anger to fuel her passions. She bargained to be changed, and while she’d been through depression and sadness, she found acceptance in the end.
She hoped that the rest of her life would be great. That she found happiness. That she’d be able to be put into the ground, knowing that she left a good impact on this world and everyone would look back on her fondly.
Eventually, Roxie left. But not before placing some stones down.
A stone for a grandmother who she was named after, who she never got to meet.
A stone for her husband, a man who passed when she was just a baby, but she could still wonder about.
And a stone for a little girl’s missing leg.