Of Judas
A Tale in Several Parts
By Vindea
Lola
faced her enemies, all lined up in a neat row.
Nine, she thought, why must there always be an odd number? She sighed mentally and her stomach gave a
slight twitch.
Seconds
later, her capable hands had taken care of the task before her. Four pairs of white socks were rolled
together neatly and sat in the laundry basket, while the lone wolf of the group
went to the closet to be used for a cleaning rag. As her stomach jumped again, she looked at
the clock on the living room wall. “All
right, Clare. You are quite correct;
it’s time to eat,” she said to her belly.
Almost seven months into her pregnancy, Lola made an attempt to eat a
snack at least every 2 hours.
“Cucumbers…that’s what we shall have.”
While
his wife was busy feeding their unborn child and folding laundry, Colum found
himself surrounded by nemeses of his own.
He had been sent by one of his least favorite contacts to dispense with
a large clutch of Vahzilok in Boomtown. A
sneaking suspicion was born in his mind that his contact, the twisted jerk
Bill, simply sent him out to get puked on.
Well, Colum would show Bill. Not
a drop of puke this time.
Ten
minutes later, the hero was walking away from the bodies of a dozen
Vahzilok. “Sons of bitches puked on me”,
Colum muttered in disgust, stripping off his shirt in a flash. For all of two seconds, he debated if he
should buy some new clothes and pitch the vomitous duds in the nearest Dumpster
or wear them home. Dumpster it was. Lola might be upset that his clothes got
ruined and he spent money they could ill afford on new ones, but it was a damn
sight better than coming home and asking her to wash the stains out. He started making his weary way back to Bill. While he walked, he called Lola from a cell
phone that looked ridiculously small in his large hand. “Hey, baby…Yeah, everything’s okay…I’ve got
to stop and get some new clothes, so I might be a little late coming
home…Lasagna sounds great…see you soon.
I love you…bye.” At least she
hadn’t said anything about buying new clothes, plus she was making his favorite
supper. Yeah, life is sweet, he thought while he checked his wallet to see
how much money he could spend.
“Goodbye, Frank.” Lola hung up the phone and looked around the
apartment. “So easy to please, your
daddy is, my sweet Clare,” she said.
“Lasagna for supper and he’s happy.”
Always a prepared person, Lola
had made 3 pans of lasagna early in the morning and put them in one of their 2
refrigerators while she cleaned. “It’s
beyond me why tanks don’t get a stipend for clothing and food. Pretty expensive finding pants and T-shirts
for a 7 foot 8 colossus. And when was
the last time a blaster spent as much as I on groceries? We’ve 2 fridges, as well as a big deep
freeze, which holds enough food for maybe 2 weeks.” Friends that came to visit often commented on
the rather large size of their apartment, but it was a necessary evil
considering Frank and Lola’s bedroom was equal in size 2 normal sized
rooms. After the movers had delivered
Frank’s specially made bed, Lola just gaped at it for at least 10 minutes. How exactly did one go about putting sheets
on a bed that looked to be an entire
acre in size? Very slowly, she found
out. “Thank your grandmamma for teaching
me to sew, or we’d be sleeping on a bare mattress. What colors would you like in the quilt I am
making for you? Pink and yellow? Pink and yellow it is.” On her way to the laundry room, she picked up
another brightly colored laundry bags that belonged to her friend Zulia, who
lived in the apartment just down the street. “Best get started on more laundry,
baby. Zulia is probably running out of
clean clothes by now”.
Changed into navy cargo pants and
matching long-sleeved shirt, he was no longer Colum, but simply Frank on his
way home from a hard day’s work of getting puked on. Before he went to purchase new clothes, he
had met back up with Bill, who, in an uncharacteristic burst of civility, had
given Colum the card of a tailor who had helped Bill out in the past. It worked out well, since he had been able to
get a good deal on his XXXL clothes. As
was Frank’s wont, he tried to collect his thoughts while he walked back to his
King’s Row apartment. To his great
relief, he passed no innocent civilians in need of rescue, a welcome
respite. He had read in the newspaper
that this particular area of King’s Row, including his apartment neighborhood,
averaged 10 muggings a day, and half that number of assaults. Nice
place to have a family, he thought ruefully. When he unlocked his apartment door with its
3 deadbolts, he thought he could smell lasagna in the oven.
Ducking his head to avoid a nasty
bump from the door jamb, his suspicions were confirmed. There was lasagna in the oven, and almost
done, judging by the aroma wafting through the air. Another odor reached his nose: clean
laundry. It was Tuesday, not Lola’s usual
day for washing clothes. He turned to
secure his front door against intruders, resting his fist on the top of the
frame. Taking in laundry. Taking in
sewing. What more will she do? He pulled the small amount of change left
from the visit to the tailor out of his pants pocket. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” he called, walking
into the kitchen to place the money in a Mason jar on the shelf. The label on the jar read simply, “House
Money”. He propped the card that Bill
had given him up against the jar. Who knows when I’ll need cheap clothes
again?
“Frank!” Lola shrieked with delight
and pushed herself up off the second-hand couch to greet her husband. “How was your day? Oh, I like the outfit you got; it really
looks nice on you. Supper is almost
ready, just another few minutes,” she chattered on while Frank pulled off his
shoes. “I wasn’t able to go to the store
today, I’ve been awful busy-“
“I noticed,” Frank cut her off. “You’ve been awful busy doing laundry. How many bags of clothes did Zulia drop
off? Two? Three?
And I’ll bet you didn’t even have time to rest today.” Blowing out a sigh, he grasped Lola’s
shoulders and held her at arm’s length.
“Sweetheart, I know you want to help.
But even though we don’t have a house, or lots of nice things, we are
doing better than most people in the Row.
I can take care of us; you need to take care of Clare,” he said, perhaps
a trifle more sternly than he wanted.
Lola’s eyes quickly filled with tears.
Definitely too harsh, you dumb
tank, he thought. Wrapping his arms
around his wife, he held her against his chest.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean for it to come out like that. But-“
“You aren’t supposed to say ‘but’
after an apology,” Lola sniffled.
Frank smiled. “Okay, okay.
So how about we compromise? You
take in Zulia’s laundry, no one else’s.
The only sewing you do is for us, and you take a nap every afternoon.”
“That doesn’t sound like a
compromise; that sounds like a set of orders.”
“Well, I’ll cut back on going to the
bar with my friends, and if there happens to be something you need that won’t
fit into the budget, I’ll take a couple extra hours at work,” Frank said,
knowing that it was doubtful Lola would agree to more hours at work. She worried about him enough the way it was,
and the last thing he needed to do was make her more anxious. “Remember what the doctor said about you
getting your rest. She told you that
your blood sugar was too low, and your iron count was pretty low as well.”
Lola pulled away from him and
crossed to the couch. Sinking down upon
it, she said, “Frank, I don’t want you working more hours; there is no
discussion about that. And the only
thing I want that isn’t in the budget is a house. That’s why my laundry and sewing money goes
into the jar. It’s just been hard for me
to adjust to staying at home as opposed to being a secretary. If you stay home more often instead of going
out drinking, you won’t hear an argument- Oh,dear, the lasagna!” She rushed to the kitchen and pulled their
supper out of the oven. “I think it’s
still edible,” she said, her voice beginning to waver.
“It looks fine, baby”, Frank soothed
her as he walked into the kitchen. “Now
if I remember right, you have to let that lasagna sit for a bit before you cut
into it.” He tugged at her hand while
urging her towards him. “So hows about
you and I get in a nice hot shower before supper? I’ll let you scrub my back…” he joked. Lola smiled at him in response and followed
him to the allure of a hot shower and a back massage before supper.
While the pair left the room, the design of a spider on the card of the tailor started to glow red.