As promised, Judith brought Stevie to the record store in Fleecewood Mall when they arrived home. They're both wearing jeans, but he's wearing a long-sleeve sea blue shirt.

There aren't many people browsing, which gives them the space to walk around freely. She follows him around the store as he searches for a new album.

"So, Stevie, you feel comfortable talking to me, right," she hesitantly asks, and he glances over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows knitted.

"I – guess," he says with a questioning tone, then he looks forward, and she nods her head before doing the same.

"Cool, so, if something was eating at you, you'd tell me?" He stops in the middle of the floor next to the checkout desk, and she stops behind him. He turns to face her with confusion evident on his face.

"What're you talking about right now, Judy," he asks her, and she folds her arms.

"Nothing. I'm just worried about – everyone. With Dad gone and everything," she begins to explain, but he quickly turns away from her and continues walking. His jaw shifts from left to right as he grits his teeth, suppressing his emotions behind a failed attempt at stoicism. "I'm worried that everyone will break. You're old enough for me to talk to you about this stuff, but if you don't want to, we don't have to."

"I don't really care about that stuff," he rushes the words from his mouth, and she notices how shrill his voice has become. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, then he says, "Besides, I have a girlfriend now, so I probably won't be around much longer. She and I are planning on getting married."

Judith snickers at him and shakes her head as he turns to look at her.

"Stevie, you're not old enough to elope. You're still a child, and even if it were possible, Mom wouldn't let you," she reminds him, and he gnashes his teeth again.

"Whatever," he mumbles. She follows him to the second row of records to the left of the entrance and watches him scan each one.

"Who's your girlfriend," Judith asks Stevie.

"None of your business." She blinks from surprise then lifts her hands in surrender.

"Well, okay," she says, dragging the y before dropping her arms at her sides. "I mean, I was giving you a chance to come clean. I know it's that's girl Zoë from next door, and I know why you were sent home."

He pauses near the Jackson 5's section, his eyes wide. He turns to face her, then says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play with me, Stevie." She narrows her eyes at him, and he looks around. "I saw the suspension letter, and I've yet to hear a thank you for not ratting you out to Dad."

"Thank you," he repeats with a scoff, and she smiles.

"You're welcome." He rolls his eyes at her sarcasm. "Tell me about her. What does she look like, how does she act around you, and vice versa."

"Vice versa?" Stevie turns to the array of vinyl discs.

"How do you both act around each other," Judith asks. The bell above the doors chimes and grasps her attention. She glances toward it and watches a skinny white male with big glasses approach the blonde girl behind the counter.

"We act fine. She's pretty cool, and so am I, so it's copacetic. She teaches me a few words in Creole, and she's really dark-skinned." She looks at her brother when she hears the infatuation in his voice. He's staring at the Beatles in front of him with a smile growing on his face. "Her hair smells like that stuff Mom puts in Vera's, and on her birthday last month, she and I ate a container of these fish cake things called Akra that her Grandma made for her. It was actually really good."

His irises drift onto Boogie by the Jackson 5, and she looks down at it as he lifts it in his hands.

"I want this one," he tells her without taking his eyes off of it. "If I get this one, I'll have all of them, and she has a record player so we can listen to it at her house."

"Alright." He follows her to the checkout desk, and they stand behind the berate man who stormed in with a scratched record. "By the way, you and I are gonna talk about that incident at your school, but I'll leave you alone for now. I'm just happy that you're happy."

"I'd be happier if Troy would stay out of her life. They dated for like a week, and she dumped him for me, but he won't take a hint and leave her alone," he confesses.

"You shouldn't get in the middle of that, Stevie," she tells him. "If she didn't want attention, she'd let him know."

"But she has; multiple times. The teachers don't care, and she's too scared to tell her parents because they'll transfer her to a different school." He takes a deep breath then mumbles, "I wish I could fight him and not get in trouble."

"Where does he live?" He looks at her, and a smile grows across his lips when he sees how serious she is.

***

Judith and Stevie are running away from a house down the culdesac where they live, laughing hysterically. It's painted yellow and white from egg yolks and shells.

She has a small carton of eggs in her left hand that's empty, and he's clutching his vinyl record in its case. The sun is low, and the sky is warm shades of red.

Once they reach their porch, she looks at him, and they're both panting for air.

"Okay, we're gonna go in and wash our hands. If anyone asks, we don't know anything about the Gilligan's house being vandalized," she prepares him with a smile to match his. He nods his head.

"I got it, Judy." She nods as well. They turn their heads to the door as she twists the knob. She pushes it open, and he sprints through the arch, leaving her walking in and gently nudging the door shut.

"Judy?" Her smile drops, and her heart skips a beat when she sees David in his golf clothes sitting on her couch. He has crutches propped next to him, which he grasps to stand up. As he rises to his feet, she takes a step to her right with her eyes widened.

"What're you – why're you here," she asks him. He veers his attention to the kitchen as Sheryl steps into the living room with Rembrandt in tow.

"You bought eggs?" They look down at Judith's hand when she notices the carton. "We already have some."

"It's not for the house. Stevie needed help with a school project," Judith lies.

"I don't see how when he's expelled." Judy's lips fall agape. Rembrandt folds his arms, and David lowers his head. "Anyway, I told David about your Father's passing, and he was so upset that he hadn't heard anything about it. We're not gonna discuss that, but he wanted to be here for you while you mourn."

"Mom, I don't need him or anyone else. I'm fine." Sheryl blinks from surprise, then lets out a scoff.

"Robert told me that he saw you crying in the hall," she tells her daughter. Judith darts her gaze onto the staircase before closing her eyes. Rage is slowly coursing through her veins, so she takes deep breaths to alleviate it. "He tried to help you, and of course, you were too stubborn to accept it. I'm not letting you repeat that incident again."

"What incident," Rembrandt asks Sheryl in a low voice. She looks at him and opens her mouth to speak.

"Okay, goodnight," Judith quickly says before she can answer him. They watch her speed walk toward the stairs, and then they look at each other again as she ascends to the next floor.

Stevie's standing under his door, staring into his room as if he's looking at a ghost. She approaches him from behind with furrowed brows then looks over his head into his bedroom.

She notices a dark red and black suitcase lying on his bed, and she looks down at him. He turns his head to look at her with sadness in his eyes.

"I have to share my room with that gimp, don't I?" Judith glances at the stairs, then at him, and shrugs. He pushes out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe this. Vera loses her room to Mom's uncle and has to sleep in the bed with her, and you have to share your room with Stacey. Now I have to share a room with David! God, when will this blow over?"

He stomps over the line then slams his door shut behind him, causing her to flinch, and she stares at his door for a second. Judith wanders down the hall to her bedroom door. The sudden changes, she can agree, have disturbed them all, and like him, she longs for the grief period to end.

Upon entering her room, she notices Jerome's number sitting on her nightstand and Stacey asleep in the middle of the bed. She takes soft steps towards it, then slides it into her left hand. She sits the carton in its place, then returns to the frame, but before she steps into the hallway, she glances at her sister.

Don't let his anger latch onto you. Everyone's grieving in their own way.

She pulls the door shut behind her and walks toward the stairs with a sigh. She stands at the first step when David reaches the second one, and they stare into each other's dark brown irises.

"Hey," he softly greets her, but she doesn't respond. He licks his lips as he looks down in thought, then he clears his throat and says, "Listen, I'm sorry for hurting you and making you feel – trapped. I mean, I assume that that's how you felt. I talked to your mom, and she told me that you tried to kill yourself, and --"

Judith nudges past him, and she stomps down the steps with his eyes glued to her. He watches her stop under the arch. Rembrandt and Sheryl are in front of the sink, standing close to each other as if they're discussing something they don't want others to hear.

"I think this would be good for everyone," he says in a low voice to her. "Think about the kids and the transition from normal to abnormal. They need this now more than ever."

"I'm not going to New York," she snaps, looking him in the eyes, and they stand in silence for a moment. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head onto the sink of glass cups. "I can't go back to New York. It's – the distance is too much, and right now, I have to focus on getting Walter off of me."

"I know this is hard." He sits his hand on her back and watches her eyes fill with tears. "Trust me, it's not easy losing someone you love, but the best way to help yourself grieve is to go where the love is, and that's Brooklyn. Your mother misses you, Sher."

"Really?" She looks at him and sniffles. David carefully descends the steps, and he approaches Judith from behind with his attention on the two in the kitchen. "Then why didn't she call or send me a letter when I told her Walter was sick? I've been dealing with the kids, Stacey, Judy, my husband, trying to maintain this house all while I'm hurting inside. I needed someone to talk to and cry to, but here I am, a housewife with family not far but no one to talk to."

"Well, I'm here now." He takes her hand, but she snatches it away and rolls her eyes. Her tears cascade down her cheeks, Judy's lips are agape, and her heart leaves a sinking feeling in her chest.

"Dad was sick?" They turn their heads to look at her.