Moose and Goose

Chapter Forty-eight

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.