Moose and Goose

Chapter Fifty-nine

Judith's heart is thumping in her chest like drummers in a marching band, and though the fan above them keeps the room cool against the hot climate, sweat still trickles off her brow.

The day has arrived – the funeral – and they're thirty minutes early so they can see him first. She's anxious. She hadn't seen him since he dropped her off, and all she can think about is how different he'll look.

When her brother Michael died of liver cancer, she remembers him looking more like his brothers on his biological Dad's side than himself. To some, they all looked the same, but to her, he was unique from his wavy fade to his large clown-sized feet.

Judith's sitting in the parlor, tapping her clogs against the carpet and darting her gaze from vase to portrait.

Vera, Stevie, and Sheryl ducked into the bathroom and left her alone with Stacey and Robbie across from her.

"Judy, are you alright," Stacey asks, and she glances at them.

"Yes, I'm fine," she lies with a forced smile to ease the worry from their faces, but it's futile. Judith looks toward the chapel's double doors and stares at the orange light pouring through the glass.

Stevie walks alongside Vera to the sofa next to Stacey and Robbie, and Sheryl strolls toward Judy. As they sit down, she stops beside her and taps her shoulder.

"Let me get this seat." When Judith stands up and steps to her left, her mother sits in the chair and groans on the way down. She exhales, then says, "Judy, go see if the funeral director is in the chapel. I've been looking for him, and I can't find him."

Judith walks toward the doors with her head hung, and she wipes away the sweat gliding toward her eyelids. She lifts her head when her hands grip the door handles, but before she jerks them back, she peers through the glass and spots Walter.

She sucks in her breath, and her heart skips a beat. She feels vomit bubbling behind her navel, but as if her throat has a mind of its own, it tightens to keep the acid from rising.

He's lying in an off-white casket with his hands across his stomach and the funeral director standing over him, adjusting his black tie.

Judith sprints toward Sheryl, panting like she'd run a marathon and each breath she takes burns on the way in.

She sits on her mother's lap, and with her arms wrapped around her neck, she weeps onto her floral dress' left shoulder. Everyone around her share confused expressions, but she doesn't care. Her body feels numb, and her throat aches.

"I – saw – Dad," she wails. Sheryl wraps her arms around her and lets out a sigh that leaves a sorrowful look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Judy," she tells her, caressing her back with her right hand. Stevie and Vera avert their heads to the doors as the brown-skinned man in the suit steps into the foyer. "I didn't know they had him out."

"Is she okay," he asks when he notices Judith crying, and Sheryl shakes her head no.

"She saw Walter." The man mouths Oh and sighs.

"I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm sorry for upsetting her. I just got him ready and had to fix his tie, but I wasn't expecting anyone for a while." He lifts his golden pocket watch from his jacket's left compartment, and it ticks as he checks the time against the overhead light. "You're a little early, so I assume you're here for the viewing?"

"Yes." He returns it to its place in his suit. "His family and friends will be here from all over, so we want to see him while we can."

"Understood. Well, he's right in there when you're ready," he says. "There are boxes of tissues on each pew, and I'll be in my office if you need me."