Moose and Goose

Chapter Sixty-four

We're moving to Brooklyn next Thursday.

Sheryl's statement rings in Judith's ears like the punch line of a bad joke, and she's left with her mouth agape. She watches like a fly on the wall as she rambles her reasoning for the sudden decision.

Moving again. Heh, I was a fool to think this would be where we set our roots.

"Your sister isn't doing well. Having the baby took a toll on her, and I'm praying that God will spare her, if not for us, for Cynthia, Charles, and now Robert Jr." Her words waltz through Judith's ears, but they reach her brain in a warbled-like state.

Sheryl's standing beside the muted television and Rembrandt's on the other side, nodding his head with his hand resting on his chin.

Now, what am I gonna tell everyone? Especially Ja'liyah. She'll never believe this.

"Wait, does this mean we have to leave Wyndell?" Stevie glances across Judith to look at his twin when she asks, and then he returns his gaze to his mother. She nods, and they groan. "But Mom, all of my friends are there! You can't do this!"

"Lower your voice when you speak to her," Rembrandt chastises, wagging his finger with stern eyes. Vera sinks into her seat and crosses her arms. Judith glares at her inattentive uncle.

And who does he think he is? Our new Dad?

"I know this is – sudden." Sheryl takes a deep, shaky breath. "But I think this will be good for all of us. I'll be closer to my parents, and they'll help raise you, and you'll see your aunts, uncles, and cousins. They have an all-girls school near the house, and I hear your cousin Barbara's there. She'll look after you."

Oh, my God, I can't believe I actually let her talk me into caring about college. Now, what's the point?

"I don't want," Vera stops herself when she hears herself yell, and she drags her palms down her face with a huff. She jolts to her feet and rushes past her siblings.

They watch her march upstairs, and Rembrandt and Sheryl share a glance. He shakes his head and folds his arms.

"I know it'll be a big adjustment; a big difference compared to living here. A culture shock, of sorts, but Stevie, wouldn't you enjoy being around more boys," she asks, desperately seeking to draw optimism in him. "My Mom's brother – Rembrandt's stepbrother – fought in the war, and his son's thinking about enlisting."

"So, you want me to hang around soldiers so they can pressure me to be like them?" Her answer to his sarcastic question catches in her throat with a breath. Stevie scoffs, and Sheryl furrows her brows. "I'd rather go back to the racist city of Montgomery."

He follows his sister's footsteps, and when he reaches the next floor, Sheryl sits her teary eyes on Rembrandt.

And here come the waterworks. I should head upstairs, too, before she guilts me into not being angry.

"At least they didn't slam their doors." She gives a grim chuckle, and he shakes his head.

"I'm gonna go smoke." He lifts a box of white and red Lucky Strikes from his back pocket as he walks to the exit.

Opening the door, he tips the lid back, takes one between his lips, then steps onto the porch. He shuts the door behind himself, and Sheryl walks toward the sofa. She sits beside Judith, staring at the show I Love Lucy.

"I suppose you agree with them that I'm the worst parent ever and that I don't know what I'm doing?" Judy doesn't respond, so Sheryl takes another unsteady breath and shuts her misty eyes. "You're right if you do. I mean, Walter knew everything right to say. He knew when to bring the hammer down and when to talk to y'all, and I just – I miss him."