"I can't believe you would do something so damn stupid," Rembrandt yells at Judith and Stevie. They're sitting side by side on the couch with him behind the television and Sheryl near him, her arms crossed. "What if you were killed, huh? This boy is only thirteen, and you're dragging him outside at this dangerous time of year. Are you out of your goddamn mind?"
Why would he do that? Why would she do that?
"I wanted to go," he defends her. Vera slowly descends the stairs with a mood ring on her left hand's index and a rock in her hands.
Were they always together? No, there's no way. She seemed to hate him. Wait – that could've been a coverup, but – why?
"And that's supposed to be a good thing," Sheryl chimes in, her voice piercing her uncle's ears. Vera carries it in front of his line of sight with a menacing smile across her face. She's wearing jean shorts, a grey and black flannel shirt, and white tube socks. "Stevie, I'm almost more disappointed in you. I told you you're on punishment, yet you left this house with your sister and risked getting yourself killed. For what reason?"
Oh, my God — did Jerome know?
He looks at Judith, who's staring silently at her knees. Nothing can be said to make her feel any worse than she already does, but only he can see the pain in her eyes; despite not knowing why it's there.
If he knew, then all of his friends did, but what if – no, there's no way the whole campus found out. I'm not that well-known.
"Look what Momma got me," Vera blurts out, stealing everyone's attention. Stevie's eyes widen when he sees the grey and red rock, and he jumps to his feet.
"Ma," Stevie practically screams. Rembrandt huffs in annoyance and Sheryl rolls her eyes. "You bought her a Pet Rock? I asked for one last month, and you said no."
"I only got it for her because her soap bar was thrown out," she explains. Vera shifts her head to look at her, her ponytail flipping behind her. "Go back to the room and don't come back out unless you want that ring, your rock, and your raggedy Anne doll thrown in the trash."
The twins glare at each other as she makes her way back up the stairs, and when he's unable to follow her with his eyes, he returns to his seat.
"Now, back to you two." Sheryl looks at her son and asks, "Stevie, why'd you leave?"
"Answer your mother," he orders him when he falls silent. His raised voice and choice of words grab Judy's attention. She clinches her hands into fists, then looks at her younger brother. She notices the glossiness in his eyes and realizes that he's about to cry.
"He left because I made him." They look at Judith when she covers for him. "What was I supposed to do? Leave him alone while I go to Darlington?"
"You weren't supposed to go anywhere," Sheryl reminds her. "I'm beyond disappointed in you, how childish you've become, and for what? To impress your brother, or the boy — no — man up the street?"
"Man? You mean Jerome," she asks with the skin above her nose bridge creased.
"He's a man, right?" Her question leaves Judith sitting with her mouth agape, and her eyes narrowed. "Whatever. My point still stands. Your doctor has to put you on dialysis because, for whatever reason, you decided to misuse my bottle of Ipecac and mess up your kidneys."
She speaks with her hands, and her tone is exaggerated. Stevie looks at Judy, disappointed, and she looks at him, ashamed. He jumps to his feet and runs upstairs to his room.
Fuck!
Judith bites her lower lip and bobs her head as if she swore aloud. She takes a deep breath and meets her mother's gaze, and Rembrandt shifts his eyes between the two, shaking his head.
"This's why y'all need to go to Brooklyn," he tells them, and Sheryl exhales heavily. Judy displays confusion on her face. "Uh-huh, you can brush me off as much as you please, but it takes a village, Sher."
Rembrandt takes a cigarette from his pocket, slips it into his mouth, then walks toward the front door. He steps onto the porch, shuts the door behind him, and Sheryl licks her lips while staring at the painting above her daughter's head. It's her family's faceless portrait, painted in nineteen seventy-six.
"Maybe he's right," she says, staring at Walter's likeness. She takes a deep breath, looks down, and shakes her head, clearing her thoughts and sadness. "I've been avoiding going home because — I'm just — I can't."
Sheryl pinches her nose bridge, her shoulders lifting then falling with each sharp intake of the tense air.
"Just – go to your room," she orders her. Judith slowly stands up and watches her shake her head. "I gotta phone your sister and let her know you're alright. I can't believe how selfish and stupid you're becoming, calling Robbie from work to drop you two off – just go."
The rotary phone rings and they turn to the sound. Sheryl walks to the kitchen, and Judith strolls toward the staircase. When she ascends three steps, her mother puts the phone to her ear.
"Jefferson residence. This is Sheryl speaking." Judith stops where she is when she hears her huffs. "Judy's grounded, and by the way, I would prefer it if you stopped calling this line unless you plan on paying the telephone bill next month."
"Wait," Judy says as she returns to the first floor. She steps into the kitchen, her mother looking at her over her shoulder. "Is that Jerome? I actually need to talk to him."
"Judith," Sheryl begins with a stern tone and her brows raised.
"It'll be the last time. I promise," she assures her, and they stand in silence as Sheryl stares at her in thought.
Hesitantly, she turns and extends her arm with the handset between them and the curly wire stretching to its capacity. Taking a breath of relief, she rushes closer and takes it in her hands, bringing it to her ear.
"You have fifteen minutes," she warns her, pointing her index at her. Judy nods her head, then watches her walk past. When she strolls toward the front door, Judith steps closer to the counter.
"Jerome, are you there," she asks him, expecting him to have hung up.
"Yeah." He gives a weary sigh, and she takes a deep breath. "So, how're you?"
"I'm fine. I saw you on T.V," she tells him, sitting her right hand on her hip with her left tight around the handle. Her heart begins to race, and her face heats up at the thought of Mary and David.
"Oh, yeah?" She rolls her eyes at the excitement in his voice, and she can hear him sit up. "Me, Mary, and Eric let Khalíd and Manny go first, and they were tied. I'm not gonna lie, they did better than we expected. Anyway, what'd you think?"
"The interview part was great until I saw Mary kiss David," she tells him, and he doesn't respond, so she scoffs. "You knew, didn't you?"
"Honestly, no. I didn't even know he was there," Jerome says. Judith doubtfully shakes her head with her eyes narrowed.
"I refuse to believe that you didn't know," she says. "I mean, they were right there when you turned around!"
"Please don't yell at me, Judy." She blinks her eyes wider, her lips parted. "I don't know what you want me to say. I told you I didn't know about them."
"So not even Eric, or Manuel, or even Khalíd saw them kissing or showing any signs of being an item," she presses him for an answer. "I mean, y'all talk about me like my life is so fucking interesting, so why's she any different?"
"Listen, if you're just gonna yell, curse, and accuse me of lying, then I'll gladly hang up." She bites her bottom lip to stop herself from raising her voice another notch.
"Jerome." Judith exhales and stares at the numbers on the rotary. "I'm sorry for having trust issues, but this is serious to me."
"Why," he asks with annoyance in his tone, and she squints. "You two split, so what's it to you if he moved on?"
"Are you serious? He was my boyfriend for years, and it's not like our relationship was a secret," Judith reminds him, and he takes a deep breath. "Imagine if Eric was caught sniffing up your girl's tree right after you two broke up. Imagine if he was the one who encouraged you to break up, to begin with!"
"The likelihood of him doing that is slim," he argues under his breath, and she groans loudly.
"Oh, my God, Jerome, you're missing my point!" She runs her fingers through the front of her afro, then licks her lips. In a softer voice, she says, "He was my first everything, and yes, I know he was abusive, and I'm glad I left that relationship, but it's morally apprehensible for her to do that, and it would be more so if you knew about it and didn't say anything."
"Well, like I said twenty times, I didn't know until you told me." She shakes her head, her eyes heating and the top of her throat under her chin aching. "I honestly don't even know what you want from me at this point. This is really frustrating: not knowing what you want and how to give it to you. You look at me like a sad puppy when Mary questions our relationship, so I lie, then you get mad at me for lying. I tell you not to walk in the rain alone, but no, Judith knows best, and what happens? What I told you would."
"Are you seriously doing this right now," she asks with an incredulous chuckle. "You're really bringing up something I had no control over, something that was distressing for me. How mature. You know what, let's do it then. At least I didn't waste my time playing some stupid machine game just to lose in front of live T.V."
"I might've been able to win if you hadn't have shown up to my house throwing up," he calmly responds, and she doesn't say anything else. "I was the one who caught you when you fell; I cleaned the bathroom, I rode in the emergency van to the hospital, and stayed with you until your Mom came."
"Yeah, and you're also the reason why I'm in trouble right now," she tells him, her vision growing foggy as she feebly fights back tears.
"Oh, what'd I do now?" He sighs defeatedly.
"You gave the doctor my mom's Ipecac," she reminds him, and he doesn't respond. "Because of you, I had to leave with more medicine than I started, a referral to a therapist, and my mom's words of – of – of disappointment. She was disappointed in me, and I heard it until I got home."
"And that's my fault, how? If you hadn't been drinking it like Kool-Aid, you wouldn't be sick, and you wouldn't be in trouble. You're the problem, Judy." She immediately slams the handset on the switch hook, ending the call with an enraged scream.
"What's going on," Vera asks as she sprints toward the top of the stairs. She leans against the rail and stares through the kitchen, and Judith catches her eyes.
"Nothing," she tells her, her shoulders rising and falling as she huffs each breath. Her jaw clenches as she looks at the phone, and her sister returns to her mother's room. Like a volcano, she erupts into another scream, yet her closed mouth suppresses it. Tears gather on the brims of her eyes, her hands rising and gripping her hair on either side of her temple.