Red Cave

Stevie

1979

Sheryl and Walter step into the house with him behind her. She was at Stacey and Robert's house, using their kitchen phone to call him. "The letter came in today, but I didn't open it yet. I wanted to wait for you."

Stevie and Sauvera are sitting on the sofa watching I Love Lucy. He preferred Good Times, but after a brief back and forth, he let her have the remote. He's resting his head in his hand with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair, and she's reclining. When they hear their mother's voice, they turn their heads toward her. Stevie drops his arm, and Sheryl stops at the door with her husband beside her.

"What are y'all doing watching TV," Walter asks, but with the sheer force of his deep voice, it almost sounds like a statement. "I could've sworn you two said you were feeling sick. Am I wrong?"

Stevie's heart begins to race, and his breathing increases as his eyes lower onto his father's belt. Since he was nine, Walter would whip him for the slightest offense or hint of rebellion, and he often resented his dad for it.

"Stevie said Mom said it was okay," Vera lies, and at that moment, she helped him remember why he hated her. Stevie slowly turns his head to her with his brows furrowed and his mouth scrunched.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Is that true," Sheryl asks him. They watch his sister jolt to her feet and sprint toward the stairs, ascending them with her weight on the rails. Stevie takes in a smooth – almost relaxed – breath that exits contrary to the way it entered. He opens his mouth to answer, but his heart skips a beat, and his throat pulsates. His lips and tongue become dry as his fearful eyes bounce from one parent to the next. "Go to your room."

He stands up with a huff and lifts the remote that they left positioned between him and his sister. He flicks the switch to turn the TV down. When he drops it in the seat, Walter says, "And I'll be up there with my belt."

He feels his heart drop into his stomach and his abdomen twisting at the thought of the dry leather bruising his legs. He sprints up the stairs, and with each plank, his fists tighten at his sides, and his anger toward his sister increases.

He rushes to his room, and when he lifts his hand to the knob, curling his fingers around it, he peers toward his sister's room. She left the door cracked open, so he creeps closer and peeks into the gap.

She's sitting on the foot of her bed with her Betty Brunette doll between her knees and a wooden brush in one hand.

As she gently runs the bristles through its black hair, he squints his eyes, then whisper yells, "Vera!"

She flinches in her pink pajamas, squeezing the brush and whipping her head of large Senegalese twists to him.

"What the hell, Stevie," she responds in the same volume. She stands up and sits her doll and brush in her spot, her eyes refusing to leave his. He places his palm against the door and nudges it forward, shooting daggers at her, though she doesn't reciprocate it. "Get away from my door!"

"Why'd you lie to Mom and Dad?" When Sauvera rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, he flares his nostrils and takes a deep breath. "You're so unbelievably selfish. He's gonna beat me for something you did, not me."

"Oh, please, you came in after me to watch TV too. If it wasn't allowed, why didn't you say something?" She saunters closer with a smirk drawn on her agape lips. He looks her up and down with his brows together, shaking his head at her. "Aren't you — je ne sais pas — older?"

Oh, shut the fuck up.

"But hey, I get it. It must suck being the reason Judy tried to kill herself. So, what, now you're trying to stay in control or something?" His jaw drops a little lower, leaving his pearly whites exposed to her. His eyes flicker from one of hers to the other, waiting for her to retract her callous words.

"I hate you," he says under his breath, and her smile gradually falters from his lack of hesitation. Raising his voice, he continues, "I don't know what your problem is with me, but you know what? I won't be here long enough to piss you off anymore, and when I'm gone, don't act like you cared."

Her misty eyes jolt between his. He watches her lips quiver and her shoulders swing forward and back with each uneasy breath. Looking into her dark browns, he notices the glossy film emerging over them, and his do the same. She takes a breath that whistles against her teeth, but the words stop on her tongue when she hears Sheryl.

"She's coming home," Sheryl says from downstairs. The twins simultaneously turn their heads to the banister and listen to her. "Our baby's coming home."

Judy?

Stevie returns his gaze to Sauvera as she does too, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hands. She watches him tiptoe toward the stairs, each step carefully placed around the creaking boards until he reaches the railing. She wipes her cheeks when tears plunge down, and before she follows him, she sniffles.

She stops to his right and sits her eyes on his, but his attention is trained on their mother. Sheryl's sobbing against Walter's embrace reminds him of the night Judith was wheeled out of their house.

He remembers that night as clear as day and the off-shoulder A-line dress his sister wore when she arrived. Since he was young, he learned to notice and memorize small, otherwise insignificant details to piece together later, and the story of Judith is like a puzzle with missing parts.

"Dry your eyes," Walter says to his wife, and Vera takes a deep breath. She licks her lips, then pins the bottom one between her teeth, and more tears trickle off her lashes. "Let's take the kids and head to Piggly Wiggly. Judy still likes red velvet cakes, right?"

"I don't know." Sheryl sniffles and exhales. Vera turns her body away from the railing, and her twin glances at her, but when she proceeds to walk away, his stone face reverts to wrinkles above his nose bridge as he looks at her again. "She's been gone for so long, I don't know if she'd gotten smaller, taller — happier. I hadn't seen her yet, but I already feel like a stranger is on her way to us."

"Don't say that. It's only been a few months. She's still our little girl." The floor creaks in front of her door, and the twins direct their eyes to each other. He sees her red, tear-stained face and rolls his eyes onto the ceiling.

Of course. Insult me, then cry when I respond. Classic Vera.

"Je te déteste aussi, Stevie," she forces the words out in a whisper with a heavy breath, drawing his attention to her before she shoves her door with both hands. He speed walks after her as she steps into her room, and he reaches the door when she pushes it shut. He sticks his hand through the closing gap, and the wood squeezes his flesh against the frame. He bites his lip to suppress the agonizing scream bellowing from his flared nostrils, and hearing him, she thrusts the handle back.

Stevie sends his palms into her chest with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs. She hits the floor on her backside, her eyes wide and his narrowed. Walter asks, "You two wanna get dressed? We're heading to the store."

They refuse to break eye contact. His heart is pounding in his throat and ears, sweat is beginning to form above his brows, and his stomach flutters. She can tell by his twitching eyelid and tight fists that he's close to seeing red, so she relaxes her face.

"If you wanna fight," she begins, pushing herself to her feet. She crosses her arms and finishes her statement, "Dites-moi quand, and I'll be more than willing to kick the shit out of just — like — Kenickie."

Don't hit her, Stevie.

She tauntingly pokes his chest with her index finger during both pauses, and on the final strike, he swats her hand away, but when she reaches for his face, he shoves her again. This time, she lands on her back.

"You're dead," she declares through gritted teeth.