I started away but then stopped and brought my ear to the door again. I didn’t hear the man’s voice. I thought I heard the water running in her bathroom sink. Very gingerly, I turned the doorknob and opened the door a little more than an inch. Through the crack, I could see into her bathroom. The door was open, and she was bent over her sink. I heard her gag and spit, and then, when she raised herself, I could see her in the mirror. She had what looked like a black-and-blue mark on the left corner of her mouth, and her lip looked swollen. I pushed the door open. There was no one else in the room.
“Roxy!” I called.
She spun around. “Get out!” she screamed, and slammed the bathroom door closed.
I stood there, even more terrified than before. “What happened? What did he do to you? Who was he?” I asked.
She didn’t reply, but I didn’t move. Finally, she opened the door and looked out at me.
“This is the first time this has happened to me,” she said. “There was a real screw-up. I had no appointment tonight and certainly wouldn’t have had one with someone like him if I knew anything about him.” She pressed a cold washcloth against her mouth.
“He hit you? Why did he hit you?”
“I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”
“What did he want?”
“Forget about it, M. It’s over.”
“No. Tell me,” I said.
She sat on her bed. I went over and sat beside her. She kept her gaze on the floor.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Should you go to see a doctor?”
“No, of course not.” She took a deep breath.
“Did he hit you anywhere else?”
“No. This was enough to satisfy him,” she told me.
“What did he want, Roxy?”
She studied me a moment and shook her head. “He wanted me to bring you into the room.”
“What?”
“You know, a ménage à trois. Satisfied?”
“I thought you said the men, the clients you have, are all well screened, that this sort of thing can’t happen.”
“I told you. This was the first time.” She thought a moment and then said, “Maybe it wasn’t such a screw-up.” She rose and went to her window to look down at the street.
“What do you mean, maybe it wasn’t?”
“Mrs. Brittany has funny ways of making a point. She’s been on me about this sister-act idea of hers ever since she came here to bawl me out. She’s always reminding me about how much she has done for me, pressuring me. I owe her. I can’t say no.”
She turned to me.
“So you see, Papa was right to tell you to stay away from me,” she added.
“No, he wasn’t right,” I said, shaking my head. “You only tried to help me.”
“Right. I’m a big help. You should have gone off with Uncle Orman and Aunt Lucy. None of this would have happened. We both would have gone our own ways and not hurt each other. I only made trouble for myself.”
I felt the tears building around my eyes. “That’s not so, Roxy. I wanted to be with you. I needed you.”
She looked up sharply. “No one needs me, except Mrs. Brittany.”