Moose and Goose

Chapter Thirty-four

A plain colored sectional forms an L shape to their left with a matching single-person chair adjacent to it. Across from them is a flight of stairs that turn at a left angle, and beside it is an arch leading to the kitchen.

"Xavius, Justin," she yells after closing the door behind them. Judith flinches at the sound of her earsplitting voice and watches his mother walk around them to stand at the bottom of the stairs. "Get down here!"

After a brief moment, two sets of footsteps pound down each step like a stampede, and she stares at the two men with their mother.

They both have her complexion, but one has a fade and a long white shirt hanging over his slim body like a loose nightgown with ash grey pajama pants.

The other is wearing a black shirt and dark jeans with his shoulder-length dreads in a low ponytail. He looks similar to Jerome, but his face is rounder and more babyish.

"Who's she," the one with dreads asks, and their mother follows his gaze.

"This is Jerome's friend," she tells them. "She's staying over for the night, and one of you will have to give her your room."

"Xavius can," he blurts out as if he's afraid one of them will choose him, and the smaller one narrows his eyes at him.

"Xavius, did you clean your room," she asks, and he parts his lips to speak, but nothing comes out. "Get up there and clean that damn room. Justin, help him, or she's getting yours."

"Do you want something to drink," Jerome asks Judith as they bicker, and she nods her head with a fake smile. He notices her discomfort when he looks into her dark brown irises, so he takes her hand and guides her to the kitchen.

"Every day, I'm cleaning that damn room just for it to get junky again," she yells as she ascends the stairs behind them. "If I gotta clean it again, you're sleeping downstairs."

"Wait, why can't she sleep downstairs," Xavius asks. She thumps the back of his head, and he lets out a faint pained grunt.

Jerome opens the cobblestone-colored fridge, and she scans the array of options. Bottled sodas and water, ham, bologna, leftover lasagna in a white and red floral serving dish, et cetera.

"I'll take a Sahara Springs," she says, and he retrieves a bottle of water off of the shelf on the door. He hands it to her, and she mumbles, "Thank you."

He nudges the door shut, then turns to her and crosses his large arms over his chest. They stare into each other's eyes, her stomach twitching with butterflies, then she watches his soft lips and decides to lower her gaze.

"I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted." Judith looks at Jerome with confusion on her face. "Or expected. My Mom is nice, I promise, but she's kinda on her own, and I'm sure it's stressful being a housewife and working long hours."

"Do you work," she hesitantly asks.

"Yes, I do. Me and Justin work at Oakley's construction in Sumter," he tells her. "But we're not full-time, of course, since we have classes. How about you?"

"Uh, no. I don't really have much time for that." She looks at the bottle in her hand. "I'm kinda the parent outside of my Mom. Like, obviously she birthed them, but really, I raised them. They come to me about everything."

"Who do you go to?" She lets out a weary sigh, then looks at him, and he can see the sadness in her dark browns. He licks his lips as he watches the arch, making sure that no one barges in, then he returns his attention to her. "Come upstairs to my room, and we can talk about it."

Judith follows him through the living room and up the stairs. A door is open to the left with a king-sized bed, navy blue and black patterned bedding, a desk beside it, and a chestnut-colored radio on its surface.

"This don't make no god-damned sense, Xavius," their mother continues berating him as they cross the floor into the room left open.

As Judith looks around, Jerome makes his way to his desk and sits in the rolling chair. He glances through his doorframe at his younger brother's room and notices him picking up empty packets of pretzels and cheese with his mother standing over him, her arms crossed.

Judith finally sits on the side of his bed, and they meet each other's gaze. He sets his right arm on his desk with his index and thumb over the edge. He taps the smooth surface with his thumb in a slow rhythm which draws her focus, and she observes his posture.

He's more relaxed than her in his black shirt and grey sweatpants, and he's sitting with his legs apart. She glances at her legs, then at him when she sees how close they are.

"Have you ever been to therapy?" She squints her eyes at his abrupt question then struggles to look at him for long.

"I've - I mean, I - no," she stammers, then shifts her weight onto her left side and sighs.

"I only ask because it seems like you don't know how to initiate conversation," he explains. "I have no problem with talking first, but a closed mouth won't get fed."

She glances at his lips then at his shoes in her hand. She sits them beside her feet and grips the bottle in both.

"I've never really - talked to anyone." She glances at him over the top of where her glasses would be, then at the cap. "I mention things to people, and they kinda brush it off like it's nothing. Maybe it's my fault? I mean, I told my clubmates about the abuse, and they wanted to help me, but I was too afraid and too in love with him to do anything. I let him make me feel ugly in my own skin and powerless and embarrassed to even look at other people."

"Can you tell me about what happened to your head," he asks when she stops speaking and when she doesn't answer, he continues, "I don't mean to pry, but the head wrap always made me curious. That and the fact that you don't have your glasses on."

She shifts in her spot with the skin around her button nose and mouth wrinkled from discomfort when she hears a loud honk in her head.

"After the fight with you and Mary, David and I left," she begins. She takes a shaky breath then licks her lips. "Um, we fought about - stuff, and he wasn't paying attention, and we ended up on the opposite side of the road. One of those big rigs hit us when we were almost finished merging into the other lane."

"Hm," Jerome mumbles in thought, and Judith glances at him. "I'm sorry, I thought there would've been something more, but I'm sorry that happened."

"Can I ask you a question," she interjects before he can say anything else, and he nods with a faint smile. "You used to tease David for wearing turtlenecks, but why do you constantly wear sweatpants and sweatshirts?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just comfortable enough to wear whatever I want," Jerome says, but it sounds like a question. "I'm not one to follow trends. My buddy Eric loves shoes and all things street fashion, Khalíd's into watches and motorcycles, and Manuel digs sports cars and luxury houses. The Space Jungle tournament is coming soon, and we plan on using the prize money to feed our goals."

"And what's your goal," she asks, and he looks around his room as if it's the first time.

"My goal is to get out of here," he says. "I'm gonna room with Eric since he's working on getting a car with his cut; I'll fund the apartment, then from there we work until we can afford to be on our own."

"That sounds nice," Judy says, unintentionally sounding disinterested. He watches her lower her head.

"Will you come with us to the tournament? I could use a good luck charm, and I get the feeling that you're lucky." She smiles at his comment, and she looks at him.

"We'll see. I might have a funeral to go to." Her facial expression sinks when she realizes what she said.