“Whadda ya want?”
“Are you all right?”
Roxanne shrugged and turned away. I followed her into the foyer, the scents of whiskey and cigarette smoke dominating the house. In her lavishly furnished sitting room, I found ash trays overflowing on her end tables, empty whiskey bottles cast aside and sprawled on her once impeccable carpet.
Roxanne sat down on her plush sofa without looking at me. Wearing a bathrobe of silk over her dirty baby doll pajamas, she lit another cigarette. “Want a drink?”
“No.”
I perched on the edge of a recliner, glancing around at her obvious descent into chaos and personal destruction. Perhaps even into alcoholism. What brought my wealthy and snobbish sibling into such a state of personal neglect?
“So your hubby dumped you?” she asked, reaching for a glass of amber liquid on the nearest table.
“No. I guess I dumped him.”
“Not smart.” Roxanne’s words slurred and her hand trembled as she took a drink from the glass. “You ain’t moving back in.”
“I have my own place now,” I said. “That’s why I came by. So you know how to reach me.”
“Don’ wanna reach you.”
“Okay.”
Roxanne drank deeply, and in trying to set the glass back on the table, missed it by a good two inches. The tumbler tumbled to the carpet, bounced and rolled, spilling the rest of the alcohol onto the floor. It spread, darkening the silver/gray carpeting with an ugly stain.
“What’s happened to you?” I asked. “You’re never like this.”
“None yer bizness.”
Helpless, knowing my presence wasn’t wanted, and yet hesitant to leave, I merely stared at Roxanne. “I want to help you, Roxanne.”
She met my gaze briefly. “Why?”
“Duh.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re sisters.”
“So?”
“Sisters are supposed to help one another. If you need help, just tell me.”
Roxanne bent over, reaching for the glass. Her hand visibly shaking, she poured more whiskey from the bottle into it, and spilled much of it onto the table. The stench of whiskey permeated the already smelly room. When she tucked a cigarette in between her lips and tried to light it, I stood.
Taking the lighter from her, I held the flame to her cigarette. “You’ll set the place on fire,” I snapped. “The fumes alone will ignite.”
Roxanne drew on the cigarette and blew the smoke out of her nostrils while staring up at me. “Let it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Look, maybe you should quit drinking.”
“No.”
I sighed, and returned to the recliner. “Why are you like this, Roxanne? Did something happen? You never acted this way when your husband died.”
Roxanne merely puffed on her cigarette without answering. I watched her, wondering if she had run into a financial problem. Her husband left her with considerable wealth and investments, but it was her responsibility to maintain both with intelligent decisions.
“Did you gamble all your money away?” I asked. “Invest in cryptocurrencies or something?”
She still said nothing. Nor did she look at me. She merely sat on her expensive couch and ruined it with her smoking habit. After another sigh, I stood up.
“I’ll write down my cell number and my new address,” I told her, walking into the kitchen. “Just in case.”
