Chapter 29: Rodrick
The parking lot of the old car wash was silent, save for the rhythmic tink-tink-tink of the van’s engine cooling down. We were sitting in the open back, legs dangling off the bumper, the interior light casting a dim, amber glow over us. Roxie was leaning against my shoulder, her fingers tracing the frayed edges of a patch on my vest.
She’d been quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that usually meant her brain was working overtime.
"Hey," she said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at me. "I realized something."
"What?"
"Ricky is short for Rodrick; your dad called you that. You told me, remember?"
I stiffened instinctively. The name felt like a heavy wool sweater—itchy, outdated, and smelling like a life I’d tried to leave behind in the old house. "Yeah. He does that."
"But everyone here calls you Ricky. You introduced yourself as Ricky. Even your band flyers say the lead singer is Ricky," she pointed out, her eyes searching mine with that surgeon-like precision she had.
"Yeah, so?"
"So... what’s the story? Why the change? Is it a rockstar witness protection thing?"
I let out a long breath, watching the mist of my own breath vanish into the night air. "When we moved here, I felt like a different person. Or at least, I wanted to be. Rodrick... Rodrick was the guy who sat through the 'family' dinners where no one talked. He was the guy who watched his dad pack a suitcase and didn't say a word. He was the kid who tried to be the perfect son and still got left behind."
I looked down at my boots, scuffing them against the gravel.
"Ricky was just... easier. It sounded like someone who didn't have a history. Someone who didn't care. Someone who could just play bass in a van and not carry around the weight of a failing marriage and a name that sounded like it belonged to a Victorian orphan."
Roxie didn't laugh. She didn't make a joke about me being dramatic. She just took my hand, lacing her fingers with mine, her thumb smoothing over my knuckles.
"So Ricky is the mask," she whispered.
"In a way," I admitted. "It was the first thing I chose for myself when everything else was being chosen for me. It was my version of your 'Ice Queen' act. A way to stay safe."
Roxie shifted, turning fully toward me. The moonlight caught the silver in her hair and the depth of her blue eyes. She looked at me for a long beat, as if she were seeing past the eyeliner, the vest, and the "Ricky" persona entirely.
"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked.
"Always."
"I like Rodrick better," she said, her voice soft but incredibly sure. "Ricky sounds like a character. Rodrick sounds like the guy who stays. It sounds like the guy who stands up to his father and protects his little brother and looks at me like I’m the only person in the room."
I blinked, the name suddenly feeling less like an itchy sweater and more like a suit of armor.
"It’s a strong name," she continued, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips.
"Really?" I smiled.
"It’s got weight. It’s got history. And honestly? It suits you."
I looked at her, I studied her and realized she was right. I didn't need to hide behind a nickname anymore. I didn't need to be a blank slate. The history—the move, the divorce, the angst—it was all part of why I was standing here with her.
"You really think so?" I asked.
"I know so," she replied. "So... what do you say? Can I have Rodrick back?"
"You really think so?" I asked.
"I know so," she replied. "So... what do you say? Can I have Rodrick back?"
I felt a strange, solid sense of peace settle in my chest. I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers, the scent of vanilla and October air wrapping around us.
"Yeah," I whispered, the word feeling like a door closing on the past and opening on something real. "You can have him. I think I’m done being Ricky."
"Good," she breathed, pulling me into a kiss that tasted like a new beginning.
I smiled against her lips, realizing that the "Ice Queen" had just thawed the last bit of my own defenses. I wasn't an outsider anymore, and I didn't need a fake name to prove it. I was Rodrick Henderson, and for the first time in a long time, I was exactly who I wanted to be.