Chapter 20: Slather on the Sadness

Roxanne tries her best to cope with the supposed death of her husband.

Roxanne can't help but feel surprised at herself. For not too long ago, she publicly received a letter about the death of her husband - no, her savior - and had to endure the kind words and sympathies from five other women. Somehow she managed to maintain her composure until she got back to her hotel room and eventually traveled all the way back to she and Trevor's condo in Manhattan. And it was only after all that when she finally bawled her eyes out about the tragedy for the first time.

In the pseudo-eternity since then, Roxanne has been keeping to herself in her apartment, ignoring every phone call she gets from the few friends in her life, including lifelong bestie Katrina. Part of her figures she should start answering them at some point, lest they start to fear that she's dead, but the rest of her doesn't want to. She would consider working to try and take her mind off things, but her boss has extended her leave of absence in order to face her problems head on. It's times like these when Roxanne wishes people didn't easily find out about such personal matters.

Most days she remains curled up in bed, balled into a fetal position under the covers. She only eats snacks during the day, just light enough portions to where they'll stay down, but big enough keep herself from starving. She hardly utters a word, all the while staring at the picture of Trevor in uniform on her nightstand, placed right next to their wedding photo. Her face is almost always flushed, covered in dried tears as she sniffles occasionally, desperately wishing there was some way to hold her husband one last time, if not bring him back to life. The very man who came into her life when she was at her nadir, saved her from a rough past, gave her a new lease on life, and stayed by her side for so many years has now left her for good, and she has no idea what to do next.

Trevor's family has not taken the news any better than Roxanne has. Thanksgiving at their duplex was painfully rough, chock full of hugging and crying. The holiday's trademark feast had a French flare to it, and was as phenomenally delicious as ever. But nobody dared to speak about the food as they all ate in silence, only whispering whenever they wanted a particular item to be passed their way. And who could forget the long, ten-minute prayer that came beforehand, complete with a framed military photograph occupying the seat Trevor would've taken up had he been there? At least the Napoleon cake they had for dessert was good, though.

Not wanting to be showered in more sadness than strictly necessary, Roxanne has declined to visit the family for Christmas in spite of their protests to this decision. She has a very strong bond with them, considering she lost her own family at a young age, but she figures her smartest move would be to just grieve and find closure on her own. And so far she's kept her word while still swearing to keep in touch and ask for help if she needs it. A part of her is considering breaking that promise just to avoid feeling lonely, but as is the case with everything else going on right now, Roxanne is completely undecided as to which path she should take.

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With roughly a week remaining before Christmastime, she spends countless hours reminiscing about the majority of her life that she's spent with Trevor, from the very first night they met while she was a hooker, to now. Right now, all Roxanne wants is for Trevor's body to arrive back home, so she can posthumously give him his medals. Then the casket will be shut and wrapped tightly in an American flag, with the high-profile funeral presumably taking place soon after. Maybe then she can finally start to put this tragedy behind her and get her life back on track... again.

Roxanne's thoughts are soon interrupted as she hears a knocking on the door.

"Ugh, it's three in the afternoon. People are trying to sleep!" she grumbles.

Roxanne adjusts her pajamas so she can look at least a little decent, before heading into the entryway and opening the door for whomever's outside. In the hallway just outside her apartment is a freckle-faced young woman with caramel-colored hair in a half-ponytail, alongside greenish-gray eyes framed with scarlet glasses. She certainly does not look like anyone Roxanne knows.

"Uh, hey. C-Can I help you?" she asks.

"Well actually, yes. My name is Monica Lloyd, and I'm here to see Trevor Bordeaux. It's kinda' important," the girl introduces.

Roxanne doesn't even bother to question this girl's motives and instead lets her own face drop in sadness at the painful reminder of her situation.

"I-I'm so sorry," she says morosely, struggling to utter the words she's never said out loud since she found out the news. "He's... H-He's gone..."

"Oh..." Monica's voice trails off as she nervously backs away, an equally sad expression on her face.

Before long, the door is shut, separating the two females once again. Not able to hold it in any longer, Roxanne drops to the floor and breaks down into a loud, unmerciful fit of sobbing.