Moose and Goose

Chapter Eighteen

She's dressed in a knee-length autumn-colored skirt, a creme-colored blouse, and a black blazer with a broach clipped to the right end of her chest. Her silver, pressed hair is tied back in a low bun, which showcases her wrinkled face.

"It isn't what it looks like." David staggers to his chair. When he turns to face her, she folds her arms, and Judith remains motionless. "Believe me. I would never hurt her. We were rehearsing for the upcoming play: Abraham and Florence."

"Young lady, is that true?" Judy is jolted out of her trance by her question, and she slowly lifts herself off the grass.

"No, ma'am," she mumbles with her head hung. He glares at her, both shocked and afraid. "He – was going to kill me."

"Judy," he calls for her with a crack in his voice. "You realize how outrageous you're being, right? Keep our parents in mind while you tell the truth to this woman."

"This woman's name is Ethel Roberts, and she's heard enough." Judith's eyes well up as David looks at her with his lips agape. "The two of you step into my office."

She presses her left hand against the door, and when it opens, he looks at his ex, hoping she'll change her mind and lie for him, but when she doesn't, he sighs defeatedly. David rolls into the doorway with hesitancy.

"There's a male in the building, so cover up, ladies," she yells through the arch, and he recoils. Ethel extends her right hand to Judy and gently says, "Come in."

She approaches the woman, lifts her bag off the ground, and walks through the door. She stands beside him, and they follow Ethel through the arch of the empty living room, past the yellow and blue striped sofa.

Her kitten heels click throughout the moment, and it's the only sound on the first floor—the trio stop in front of a mahogany door with Housemother written in bold. David and Judith watch her rummage through the inside pockets of her blazer for her key.

He shakes his head in disbelief as he looks at his ex from the sidelines. After inserting a silver key into the knob and hearing a faint click, Ethel pushes the door open.

Judith walks behind David as Ethel walks around her dark wood desk, tucking the key into her pocket.

"Shut the door, honey." She groans as she settles into her rolling chair, taking a deep breath when she notices mounds of papers and manila folders beside a peach pink rotary phone.

Judith closes it gently and stands with her back to it. Ethel motions toward the chairs and Judy settles into the one on the right, her bag on her lap.

"Can I just say that," he begins to speak, but he stops when the housemother gives him a stern look. She turns her head to Judith.

"Please, tell me what happened." Judith licks her lips and focuses her attention on her hands. Behind Ethel, four portraits of white women hang, and hers is the fifth; the first black housemother.

"Yesterday, he and I had an argument, and he broke up with me. Um, coming back on campus wasn't as easy as I hoped because since being here, I've been bullied not only by him – but by someone that I considered to be my friend." Her tears stream down her cheeks and onto her hands. "He attacked me because I called him – crazy. I only said it because he's constantly trying to control me."

"You were cheating on me," he yells at her, and Ethel shushes him, but it doesn't help. "You called me fucked up, but whose fault is that?"

"It isn't mine." She titters dryly. "You were messed up when I met you, and you'll be messed up until the day we throw dirt over your casket. Instead of blaming me, talk to your Dad when he's not working, or maybe your Mom. Get counseling if they won't help."