Rough Waters p

by Gianni Devincenti Hayes

Gianni DeVincenti Hayes, Ph.D, has put her heart and soul into a story that allows readers to explore humanity’s feelings: Adoration for others, thoughts, dreams, as well as the fears and hate, that constantly plague us. The story emphasizes the importance of communication with, and love for, another—or the lack of love, even for God—that forces each of us to go on that risky journey, called “The Search.” Roxane, who despises her father, gets a double dose of abhorrence and disgust when he tries to fix Roxane’s furnace in freezing Christmas weather. The resulting tragedy puts Roxane on a path of self-destruction, causing her to isolate herself from everyone. She must go on that search to find cause for her to exist, as her mixed-up mind forces her to opt out of society and attempt suicide.

It is only through a relative she loves, and yet bitterly argues with, and the discovery of God, that she pauses. A story that tugs at readers’ emotions Rough Waters is a book you will not put down easily. Experience the challenge a woman’s battle to find a reason to live…she could be you!

ISBN 978-61386-006-9 Literary fiction, women's contemporary fiction;

PROLOGUE

They were sitting in the living room watching Big Valley when her father asked for a cup of coffee. She got up to pour it. It was only when she was pouring in the cream that the plan gripped her.

With a nice smooth gesture, she reached behind the canisters on the kitchen counter and pulled towards her the large bottle of sleeping pills.

Periodically he would call from the living room, “Isn’t that coffee done yet?”

She’d answer, “Coming, Daddy,” while deftly twisting each of the ten capsules’ two sections apart and dumping their contents into the cup. Then she stirred the mixture. Returning to the living room, she set the mug down next to him and went back to watching TV. Glimpsing him, she saw him making faces as he sipped the poison. Then his eyes were on her, and she realized he knew.

CHAPTER 1

Chicago 1957

Roxane looked into the mirror. Just a touch needed here, a little more around the mouth. With a flick of her tiny wrist, she broad-stroked her dark eyebrows, stood back and examined herself. Hmmm. How come Mummie’s brows don’t look like mustaches? Maybe if she put on more rouge and greener eye stuff and….

“Roxane,” came the deep voice.

She spun around and looked up at him.

“Oh, sweetie, you look like an aging drunk actress with all that clown makeup. C’mere; let Daddy wipe that junk off.”

“But today’s special. Aunt Sara and Uncle Walter are coming all the way from—”

“Delaware, I know. You want them to think you’re a sloozie?”

“What’s a oozie?”

“Never mind. Hey, I got an idea. Let’s drive down to the Loop and catch a movie.”

“But but bu—”

“Mummie’s napping to build up her strength for her sister ’s arrival. She’ll be fine. We’ll be back before she wakes.” Roxane’s eyebrows creased. She had to think about this.

Going with Daddy was always fun: They’d see some kiddie movie, eat popcorn and drink coke until she thought she’d burst, and then he’d take her to a candy store, and if time allowed, they’d go to a toy shop. What she liked best was how hard and loud her dad laughed at the cartoons, how he treated her like a queen, made her feel special, as if nothing else in the world mattered but her. Yet, she didn’t want to leave her mother if she were ill. And what if Aunt Sara came while they were in town? There was her sister Danielle to think about, too, who always got mad over “missing out,” as she called it. “What ‘bout Dani?”

Her father wiped the last smudge of lipstick off her face, straightened up, standing a mile into the air, and said, “She’s over Marcie’s house. We’ll be back before she gets home.”

“She gits mad, Daddy, if I had fun and she din’t.”

“‘Din’t,’ huh? I’ll make sure we don’t have any fun, okay?”

He crouched on his knees, signaling to her, and immediately she jumped onto his shoulders.

“Now, duck, Roxie, when I go through the doorway.”

“I ‘member, Daddy.”

“I’m glad you remember, kiddo; otherwise, you’d be the headless piggyback rider.”