Judith's lying across her bed with her face aimed at her window and her left hand hiding her stream of tears.

Ja'liyah stops behind the door and leans against the arch. She nervously picks at the dirt under her nails with her hands in front of her stomach and her eyes on them.

"I suppose now isn't a good time for me to chew you out for letting Prince Charming go like that," she asks without looking at her.

"Go away and leave me alone," Judith whines before her storm of sadness envelops her. Her shoulders rack, and her breath catches in her chest multiple times as she struggles to avoid sobbing in front of her.

"Suit yourself," she says before dropping her arms and raising her brows. "I just happen to be a damn good listener and problem solver — or so I've been told."

Ja'liyah takes slow steps to the end of the hall, waiting for her to stop her. Judith lies in silence, other than the occasional snivel, before pushing herself upright and looking at her through the arch.

Though she doesn't speak, the puppy-dog look in her eyes invites Ja'liyah in. She steps over the threshold with quick strides and a smile that instantly changes.

She slows her feet, and her mouth hangs open without happiness as she scans every corner and surface of the spacious room. Judith watches her sluggishly approach the bed and sit on the edge.

"I don't mean to stare. It's just," she stops herself and takes a shaky breath. "I have a lot of memories in this room."

"What?" Ja'liyah meets her confused, teary gaze.

"Remember when we were around five or so, it was Easter Sunday, and Uncle Walter let me stay the night instead of just going to the Bamford Hotel in Sumter with my parents?" Judith's eyes glaze onto her dresser in thought. "Well, it's probably called something else now, but this was when Vera's room was Stacey's, and Michael and Wayne had Stevie's room."

"Then why'd my Mom introduce us like we didn't know each other," Judy asks as she turns back to her.

"Well, she wasn't here at that time. Some say she was in the hospital," she responds with a shrug. She gazes around the room again.

"And what do others say?" She looks at Judith. She takes a breath, her eyes downcast as if she doesn't want to answer. "What?"

"Uncle Richie thinks she was committed to someplace called – Blue Sea or Black – something. I don't know," she struggles to remember.

Red Cave?

"Ja'liyah," Sheryl calls for her from the bottom of the stairs. They look through the doorway. "Your Dad needs you to go with him to Piggly Wiggly before y'all head to Stacey's."

"Well, that's my cue." She stands up and looks down at her cousin with her lips pursed into a straight line. "I'll see you later, hopefully. We're staying with your sister and her family, so I shouldn't be too far for us to talk. Swing by if you need me, please."

When Judith silently nods, she nods back and then walks toward the hall.

"Ja'liyah," Sheryl impatiently calls her again, much louder than the first time.

"Coming, Aunt Sheryl!" She jogs toward the staircase, and Judith lies on her back. She stares at the ceiling and the grey light bowl with the sunlight against her face.

So she was in the asylum too. That explains why she wields that place against me whenever she can't get her way. I wonder what she did. Maybe it was because of Dad? Dad...

Judith feels her throat tense at the thought of him, so she leans onto her right side and draws her knees to her chest for comfort. Staring at her still drapes with her right hand under her head like a pillow, she allows her mind to wander.

That man – why wouldn't he tell me his name? Why'd he –

Her throat begins to itch, and with her face displaying confusion, she coughs into the bend of her left arm. With each blow of sickness – three to be exact – she feels her chest tighten.

Judith pushes herself upright with her right elbow, hacking into the crook of her arm and splattering it with droplets of saliva.

After another gut-wrenching cough, her arm creeps back to display the warm crimson fluid mixed with another milky substance.

Her heart is as slow as a snail though her wide eyes are etched with alarm. Slowly, she lifts her chin and keeps her mouth closed. Her body begins to shudder as if a draft overcame her, and she wraps her frail arms around her body for warmth that isn't provided.

Judith scoots closer to her pillows, then kicks the hem of her comforter closer to the middle of the mattress. She forces a shaky sigh as she rolls her eyes when they land on the imperfect burgundy circle beneath her knees.

I forgot about that.

Judy glances into the dark and empty hall, not a voice heard through the house. She slides to her feet beside the bed and gazes down at the mess she made hours before.

She bends forward and yanks the sheet without shifting the thick blanket or her pillows.

Great, now I gotta take this to the laundromat. I think I'm already missing the washing machine and dryer we had.

She shakes her head in annoyance. She tugs and grunts until it lifts from each corner and collapses into a heap in the middle of the bed.

She drags it into her arms, and her weary expression plunges when she faces another challenge: a smaller stain dried on the creme-white mattress.

Jesus Christ! Okay – baking soda, bleach, lemon juice. This'll be fine.

Judith drops the fitted sheet in front of her nightstand and rushes to her bathroom to clean her arm. Once she's done, she continues out of her bedroom, down the hall and stairs. She continues to the front door, knowing that they're all soaking in the heat, and when she opens it, she notices Sheryl reclining on the porch in a dark blue folding chair.

"Go, Judy, go! Go, Judy, go," she remembers Walter chanting at her pee wee soccer game from that very chair.

She'd just turned twelve, and with the heat of the Calabasas sun on her neck, she felt invincible against the opposing team. They tried and failed to kick the ball from under her shoes, but she inevitably reached the goalpost. She drew her leg back to fire at the goal when a feeling of something trickling out of her unmentionables stopped her in her tracks.

The crowd still screamed. Some for her and others against her, but it all fell on deaf ears. When Judith slowly lowered her head, her eyes grew wide at the red stain coating the crotch of her white and green shorts.

"Judith," Sheryl calls for her, taking her out of her daydream. She blinks and looks at her mother on the porch, struggling to remember why she stepped outside.

"Oh, I need to go to the laundromat." Sheryl blinks back from surprise with a smile across her mouth.

"Oh," she drones in disbelief. "Well, it must be fixin' to snow soon because I've never heard you offer to clean your own personals."

"I'm sorry." Sheryl darts her head to the mud-brown Plymouth just as Otis climbs into the driver's seat. Rembrandt wanders toward his door as he pulls it shut, and they talk through the open window.

"I'll stop them and ask if you can ride with them." Judith's face almost glows when she smiles. "Just hurry and get your laundry bag."

***

Judith is standing in row three of five in front of the second washing machine packed with her sheets, blanket, and underclothes. She inserts her final quarter as Ja'liyah hops onto the broken one to her left; it has a cardboard sign that reads 'out of order' in black ink.

"So," Ja'liyah drones with the bag in hand. The machine rumbles when she pushes the button to start it, and she looks at her cousin. "Can we talk about that hunk with the bike?"

"What's there to talk about?" Judith turns her back to her machine, and with her hands in front of her, she watches her fingers pick her nails clean.

"Um, isn't it obvious?" She scoffs with a smile, then licks her lips and leans forward. "In all my five years of dating, I've never had a man offer me anything more than sex. I would be tapping my heels like Dorothy just to make sure it's real if I were you."

"Well, it's more complicated than you think," she says, dropping her arms and leaning against the machine.

"Did you have to put out for it," Ja'liyah asks, and Judith whips her head to look at her with disgust. "Okay, then how complicated could it be?"

"I was with someone before him. I mean, I wouldn't even consider myself with Jerome," she stammers, then takes a deep breath to calm herself. Her cousin jumps to her feet and lands next to her. "I just need time to grieve my Dad, process the fact that I'm expelled – my life's a perfect example of Murphy's law."

"Who's Murphy," Ja'liyah asks with furrowed brows. Judith scoffs amusingly with her eyes shut.

"Murphy's law is like Newton's law: they're separate facts that connect with life," she explains, but the confusion doesn't leave her cousin's face. "I'm saying that my life proves that his quote – if anything can go wrong, it will – is true. My Dad taught me that."

"I can see why you were in college. I've never heard of that," she admits with a faint smile, and Judith takes the laundry bag from her. "What happened to Uncle Walter?"

"Hm," she quickly forces air in and out of her nose as her eyes find their way to the exit. "I know about as much as you do. My Mom was there when it happened, so ask her."

"Why haven't you?" Judith rolls her eyes onto her cousin, and she shakes her head at the pity in her gaze.

"Did you ask your Dad how Grandma died?" Ja'liyah lowers her head, and Judy nods hers. "Exactly. Death is inevitable, and for me to ask about him would just — I can't. I didn't get over Michael or Grandma, and then this happened."

"Well, as she used to say sans souffrance, il n'y a pas de joie." They meet each other's soft irises, and as tears begin to grow on Judy's lashes, Ja'Iiyah sits her hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Judy. I lost a parent too, but I know our pain is different."

A man as tall as Jerome – just above six feet – steps into the laundromat. His feathered auburn hair is cut to his shoulders and his stoic eyes are as blue as the Bahamas.

The sight of him and his peaches and cream complexion freezes Judith in place. Ja'liyah looks at them with confusion, just as her cousin's lips part.

"Is everything okay," she softens her voice, and it falls on deaf ears. They watch the man stroll toward the detergent and condom machine with his white laundry basket under his muscular left arm. "Judy?"

Her mind wanders to the nameless man in the beaver-brown hornet sedan. The smile on his sinister face sends goosebumps up her arms, but when he sets the gun to her head, her heart skips a beat.

"Shit!" Ja'liyah chuckles at the man holding a small clear packet with an avocado-green condom inside. He and Judith avert their attention to her without shifting their bodies. "What's so funny? This stupid fucking machine basically ate my quarter."

"Well, you're in luck," she assures him while walking in his direction. He wrinkles his face with confusion. "I happen to have a quarter and knowledge of how to work this machine."

He takes a step to his right when she reaches him, and she fishes into the pockets of her oversized sweatpants.

"Hey, can we go to the food court," Judith forces herself to ask despite the thought of eating putting a revolted look on her face.

"Yeah, just gimme a second." She takes a lint-covered quarter from her left pocket, blows the debris off, then inserts it into the slot.

She twists the black knob – like those on bubblegum machines – instead of the red one, and when a small bag of three Nellie's laundry nuggets falls into the holder, she looks at him.

"Thanks." He takes the bag, and she glances at the condom.

"If you don't plan on using that, do you mind if I have it," she asks, and he follows her gaze, then chuckles. He extends his right hand, and with a smile, she gently slips the clear packaging from under the detergent.

Ja'liyah walks to the exit, smiling with her top row of teeth and holding the condom high so her cousin can see it. Judith rolls her eyes and sprints after her.