Judith's lying in bed staring at her bathroom door with a pool of her blood sticking her thighs to her sheets. The sunlight seeps through her curtains and brightens not only her spacious room but her droopy face.
Thoughts of the nameless man's words and actions play before her like a movie she's too tired to turn off. His hands brandished the weapon, and his thin lips were scrunching with malice that matched what remained in his sea-blue eyes.
A tear cascades across her nose bridge, and she sniffles, squeezing the bottom corner of her off-white pillow.
Stacey nudges the door open and gazes around the room before resting her eyes on her dreary sister. Judy feels the air change from humid to cool, indicating that the door is open, but she doesn't look behind her.
"Jude," she softly calls for her with a solemn sigh. Stacey walks toward her bedside and sits with her legs over the edge. She stares at Judith's back, then at the back of her head. "Mom called me while I was getting ready for yoga and said you're down in the dumps again. You know how I get when I miss Richard Hittleman's program. What's wrong?"
"I don't know why she did that because I'm fine. It's Saturday, so," she trails off, and Stacey furrows her brows.
"Um, no. It's Tuesday." Judy doesn't respond to her correction, so Stacey turns her head to the door and sighs. "Can you at least explain why it smells like onions and wet nickels in your room?"
Judith gently tugs the hem of her blanket closer to her face, shielding her neck.
"Stacey, I don't go in your home complaining about the baby stink lingering in the air," she says, and her remark steals her sister's attention. "So please don't come in my room conjuring up a smell that's not there."
"Um, I'm sorry to inform you, but there isn't a baby stink, or whatever you call it, in my house. My house is immaculate." Stacey stands to her feet and turns to her sister. "And I don't have to conjure up a smell that's 'bout'ta melt my nose off."
"Please go away. I'm fine." Stacey silently stares at Judith's afro for a moment before taking a breath to gather herself. Stacey leans forward and yanks the comforter off her bare torso, dropping it at her ankles. Judith jolts upright to face her, her eyes big with embarrassment, unlike Stacey's.
"You're fine, you say?" Stacey twists her mouth upward, licking her top set of gums and staring at the crimson puddle under her putrid sister. They lock eyes, and folding her arms, Stacey says, "Get up, get your ass in the shower, and get downstairs and eat breakfast. You have guests coming, so you're not leaving this room so – beheveled."
Stacey turns to her dresser, and as she walks towards it, her afternoon gown flows at her sides like drapes against light wind. Judith shows her confusion on her face.
"Do you mean disheveled," she asks with uncertainty, and her older sister stops at the dresser's front then whips her head to look across her shoulder.
"Thanks for the correction, Einstein. Now get up and go scrub the blood off yourself. You look beheveled," she says before turning around. As she rummages through her drawers for a change of clothes, Judy slides onto her feet and walks into her bathroom.
Her eyes are drawn to the cloudy water she left in her tub the night before, and she steps closer then kneels in front of it. She pulls the plug to release the water, and with it at her side, the chain dangling across the grip, she watches a tornado-like form float above the drain.
Judith hears her voice in her head screaming, a memory of the dream she had when she was able to shut her eyes. She envisions his peaches and cream face, then his hair as short as the tips of boar bristle brushes.
She sees the pistol just as Stacey stands in the door frame. She bangs her left fist against the door, and Judith flinches out of her daydream.
"Hey, get some clean water going. Time is money," she says before sitting a pair of coveralls, a white shirt, and underclothes on her counter. Judith presses the plug into the drain, then turns the hot and cold knobs for warm water. "I'll go get a pad from my purse."
When she leaves the room, Judy stands up straight and turns to look at herself in the mirror. She mushes sections of her afro that are stretched farther than some and tugs those that are too flat.
Drops of blood glide down her thighs, and her mind trails off. She pictures him again, and her heart begins to race. The gun that he held for dear life and pointed at her, whose trigger he pulled more than once to strike fear in her; and succeeded.
She grips the sides of the basin, and as her nails scratch the porcelain, her teeth grind together. Her nostrils flare as she takes heavy and faster breaths.
"Judy!" She flinches again and sucks air through her gnashed teeth. She turns to Stacey, who's staring at her with wide eyes. "How much water do you need? Jesus Christ!"
Judith follows her gaze to the tub, now halfway filled with water, and her eyes flash wider. She runs toward it and quickly spins the knobs.
Stacey stares at Judy, and she's staring at her reflection in the water. Stacey opens her mouth to speak, but when Judith faintly sobs like someone too humiliated to convey her sadness fully, Stacey keeps her thoughts to herself.
"I don't think I can do this anymore," she weeps, her voice high-pitched. With a sigh, Stacey lies the white and lily green box of Maxipads on the pile of clothes.
"What're you talking about?" She folds her arms over her baby bump and leans against the counter.
"A lot's happened since Dad died. A lot even before then, but it's like the world is ending, and I have no one to talk to." Stacey approaches her with her arms out and wraps them around her, bending her hips to keep space between their pelvises. Judith rests the left side of her face against her left shoulder, staining the fabric of her dress with her tears. "I miss Dad."
"I miss him too." She caresses her back, and Judith's arms dangle at her sides. She weeps and snivels, and her red nose inevitably begins to run. Stacey breaks the hug and sighs. "But we're not gonna think about it right now. You're covered in your own blood, and I'm no expert, but this feels like melancholy. I suppose you don't want me telling Mom?"
I just...Wow.
"No, I don't," she answers with a flat tone and a look of disbelief over her reaction.
"I figured so. Well, I'm heading back home." Stacey takes a step back and gives her a forced grin. "Just try to get cleaned up, eat something, and maybe get a little more sunlight. You're paler than Nosferatu. I'll see you on Friday."
"What's Friday," Judith asks as she walks into her room.
"That's when we're going to Alabama for Daddy's funeral." She throws the answer over her shoulder and leaves Judy to process it.
***
Judith's sitting at the dinner table with a translucent floral bowl in front of her bearing fewer rice krinkles than milk.
Chewing as slow as a cow, she stares at the wall across from her as if she can see through it, but her mind sends her elsewhere.
I'm surrounded by people who say they love me and care deeply for me, but I feel so alone. I don't even think it's because Dad is gone...has it always been this way?
The sound of the front door closing wakes her from her daydream. She looks to her right and through the arch, waiting for a face to appear in the kitchen.
"I'm so glad you're here. I'm gonna introduce you to her. Judith!" She drops her spoon in the bowl, hurries to her feet, and into the kitchen. She stands on the threshold and catches her mother's eye.
She's standing with a cinnamon-skinned girl donning baggy clothes. Her high puff brings out the faint dimples that appear when she smiles.
"Um, Mom, who's this," Judith asks with a soft, awkward chuckle that resembles a breathless scoff.
"This is your cousin Ja'liyah. She and her Dad came from Montgomery to pay their respects," Sheryl explains with a toothy grin. The girl approaches her with confidence contrary to her sheepish grin and long gaze. Judy lifts an eyebrow at her hand, then at her.
"Nice to meet you," she says with a heavy drawl, and the corners of Judith's mouth twitch as her eyebrows relax. She takes her moist hand in hers, and the struggle to refrain from laughing ceases. "Your Momma already got me familiar with you before I came in."
"Oh, did she?" Judy shoots her mother a blank look returned by the giddy smile that seems to not want to leave her face. They delicately shake hands.
"I'll leave you two to get to know each other." Her eyes follow her outside before returning to the ones in front of her. She draws her arm away to end the greeting.
"So what's college like? Your Momma said you're majoring in medicine," she asks, and Judith looks down with a soft chuckle.
I see she's gonna be annoying.
"I'm not in college anymore. Apparently, my brain's been tainted by Malcolm X," she sarcastically states, dramatically waving her hands. She rolls her eyes and folds her arms.
"I don't understand," Ja'liyah says in a low voice, and Sheryl opens the front door. They look at her and notice a blank stare of annoyance etched on her face.
"Judith, that boy is here. Come talk to him before I call the police." Judy and her cousin share a glance. She walks toward her mother with Ja'liyah in tow. "And tell him to take that bike with him."
Bike?
Sheryl steps to the left of the porch, Judith stands outside the door, and her cousin stops beside her.
Judy's eyes grow wide, and her jaw drops at the scene before her. He's standing near the mailbox just in front of the path with a spruce blue two-person bike parked in front of him. He's leaning against the front handles with an ear-to-ear smile on his face.
"I told him to leave, and so did your Uncles." Sheryl nods her head toward a mud-brown Plymouth parked behind Walter's Citron. A tall and thin dark-skinned man, with an afro as big as Judith's, is standing at the hood of the Plymouth with Rembrandt.
"Judy!" Jerome waves his right hand at her, and the trio looks at him. Her uncles – Rembrandt and Otis – are watching him and sniggering. She walks toward him, her shoulders hunched forward.
"What're you doing here," she whisper yells her question. The sun is high and beaming down on them like the middle of July, but he's wearing his university sweatshirt, grey soccer shorts, calf-high socks, and sneakers.
"You'll never believe what happened!" She looks to her right, without shifting her head, then into his eyes. "Someone cheated during the tournament!"
"How does someone cheat in a game, how did they find out, and how is this a good thing," she bombards him with questions, yet her tone is flat as if she doesn't care. He licks his lips.
"I don't know anything other than it was some kids from Charleston, and it's a good thing because me and the guys got more money than we were supposed to because of that." Judith furrows her eyebrows. He's sputtering with excitement, and his smile hasn't left his face. "Judy – I have more than enough to move out!"
"Good for you, kid, but that doesn't explain why you're in front of my house pissing my Mom off," she reminds him, and he remains silent, feebly trying to regulate his breathing. She looks him up and down. "Could you calm down before you blow a gasket?"
"I'm sorry, I just – I had to tell someone." He sucks in air through his nose, and it briefly straightens his posture. "I bought this, uh, bike for you."
"What?" She jerks her head back and narrows her eyes. She looks around them at her family, watching them before leaning in and mumbling, "I thought I told you I can't ride a bike."
"Yeah," he says with heavy breaths. "You did, but I got it anyway."
"And that might've been the dumbest thing you've done this year." Judith watches him kick the bike's leg.
"Maybe." Jerome throws his right leg across the back seat with his hands tight around his respective handlebars. "But we won't know until you hop on."
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Jerome," she tells him with an incredulous chuckle, thanking him with a look of disgust.
"What? Why not," he asks, and she stammers for an answer. Sweat glistens against his forehead, and with the sun on her neck, she begins to react the same.
"Because I – I don't know, I don't like you," Judith lies, and he quietly stares at her with his lips agape. She takes a step back, lowering her head with shame, and his smile fades. "Don't – don't come here anymore."
She turns away from him as he looks at the pavement under them, and when she runs toward the steps, he licks his lips.
Jerome dismounts from the back seat, and he takes the front handles in his large hands. She storms between her cousin and mother, and when she enters the living room, they share a confused look then watch Jerome veer into the empty road. He walks it up the hill to his house, his head hung to hide the sadness in his eyes.