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“Mom, I feel bad,” Judy says. She’s sitting on the bed, sandaled feet swinging in the air. “This is my dorm, but you and Dad did most of the work.”
Lorraine straightens up, wiping a sheen of sweat off her forehead. The last of Judy’s boxes have been arranged beneath her spindly bed, tucked against the wall so Judy has space to actually move around the room. It’s a lot smaller than Lorraine expected, and from Judy’s face when they first walked in, she wasn’t prepared for the narrow walls either. The painted cinder block walls are a sickly off-white, pockmarked from years of use. Both beds are crammed into a corner, and the window looks out onto the bustling street. They can hear every single word drifting up from the sidewalk when the window is open. But this is the space where she’ll be living for the next nine months, so Lorraine and Judy will both have to get used to it.
“It’s fine, sweetie,” Lorraine says, “This is what we’re here for.”
Ed glances over from where he’s been struggling to build a set of shelves too tall to really fit in the cramped space.
“Plus, you got your mom’s patience. Or lack of it, I guess. You’d be throwing this across the room in the first ten minutes.”
“I would not,” Judy protests, hopping off the bed. “Here, let me help.”
“Sure, if you want,” Ed chuckles.
As Judy kneels on the linoleum, tucking her hair behind her ears to take stock of her father’s work, Lorraine crosses her arms over her chest. It doesn’t feel real that they’ve arrived at this moment— They’re just going to leave Judy here. At the end of the day, they’ll walk out of the dorm and drive home without her. How can that be right?
All the campus tours, all the interviews and essays and acceptance letters, that was one thing. It was a series of events interspersed by real life. Lorraine barely remembers the other colleges they visited now. She barely remembers how Judy chose this one— The day that Judy got her acceptance letter, Ed and Lorraine weren’t even home. They returned at midnight, so wiped out that all they wanted was to fall into bed, and Judy was awake. Lorraine can see that clear as day. Judy, curled up on the couch, the letter cradled in her lap. Only one light on in the entire house. Her eyes drifting shut, too tired to keep herself awake but still waiting. She stirred when they came inside, then leapt off the couch to greet them.
“I couldn’t wait until morning,” she said with a tired grin, “Mom, Dad, look! I got in.”
Sure enough, it was written on creamy cardstock in official script. Dear Judy Warren, we are proud to offer you a place in the class of 1984…
Now it’s actually happening and Lorraine feels so unprepared. She turns away, busying herself with making Judy’s hairbrush fit into her shower caddy, not that it needs to be there. Tears rise hot into her eyes, burning at her throat, and she gasps for a deep breath.
This can wait until the car. When it’s just Lorraine and Ed, she’ll fall apart and voice all her worries: That Judy won’t make friends, that she’ll be ridiculed for her spirituality and gifts, that she’ll drift away from her parents and church. What if Judy doesn’t fit in with the church in town? What if she just stops going and loses that community, what if she’s left alone in the world with no safety net? What if she falls, and Lorraine can’t catch her?
Lorraine jumps at arms winding around her from the back, pulling her into a hug. Judy lays her head on Lorraine’s shoulder.
“It’s OK, Mom,” she says. “I’m gonna miss you guys a lot too.”
“Oh, Judy.” Lorraine turns and pulls her into a real hug, trying to memorize the feel of Judy’s silky hair between her fingertips. How could she ever have taken this for granted?
“I know you’re ready for this. It’s just hard for me to let you go.”
“Did Grandma cry?” Judy asks. “When you moved to your first place with Dad?”
“Oh, yes. She was inconsolable.” Lorraine pauses. “I promised myself I’d be better.”
“Well, you’re not inconsolable ,” Judy teases.
“Yet,” Lorraine points out, a sob creeping up in her throat. Judy lays her cheek against Lorraine’s, savoring one of the last hugs they’ll get for a while. The bittersweet moment is interrupted by a resounding crash, followed by Ed exclaiming “Oh, son of a gun!”
He’s standing in the corner, shelving scattered on the floor around him. Lorraine can’t help chuckling.
“Hon, do you need some help over there?”
“No, I’ve got it, you two keep on havin’ your moment.”
“It’s kind of hard with all the noise,” Judy says, biting back laughter.
“Sorry, I’ll drop the shelves quieter next time.”
“Why don’t you leave it for a minute?” Lorraine asks, extending a hand. Ed takes in her tearful face and Judy’s arms still wrapped around her.
“Sure.”
He walks over and joins the hug, one arm around Judy and one around Lorraine. Judy glances between them, caught slightly off guard by the sudden group hug.
“You guys don’t need to worry about me,” she says into the narrow space between all their heads. “I know you’re going to anyway, but you really shouldn’t. I’m gonna be okay here. And I’ll only be an hour and a half away.”
“True. We’ll come down and visit whenever you want.”
“You’ll get sick of us,” Ed teases.
“Not possible,” Judy laughs. “I’ll call home whenever I can too.”
“Good,” Lorraine says. Her tears feel a little more manageable, easier to swallow down when she thinks about spending mornings on the phone with Judy, still hearing her voice from the comfort of their kitchen, sipping tea and hearing about all the amazing things Judy is doing at university.
For a moment they just stand there, holding each other. Lorraine allows herself the time to feel proud— This is her family. They have survived so much. Not just demons and spirits, werewolves and possession, but years of unattended birthday parties for Judy and church gossip chasing them wherever they go. It hasn’t always been easy for Judy, having Ed and Lorraine for parents, but she’s so strong.
She leans down to kiss Judy’s head.
“I’m so proud of you,” she says, “You’re such an amazing girl.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“We love you so much,” Ed adds, tugging Judy closer. She smiles up at him, laying her head on his chest. Lorraine is hit with a flash of memory: The first time Ed held Judy, her wispy hair and pale skin against his chest. She was little enough to fit in the crook of his arm, born a few weeks early from a mother’s body that fought tooth and nail not to let her little girl enter the violent, fearful world. Ed cradled her, staring down with the same awed, tender expression that pours over his face now. For a second Lorraine can see both of them at the same time, Judy as a newborn and Judy at eighteen, her hair now pulled back by a vibrant scarf and her blue eyes brimming with tears.
“I love you guys too,” she says, her voice trembling.
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry.”
Judy steps back and brushes away her tears, smiling even as a few drops roll down her freckled cheeks.
“I’m not sad,” she says. “It’s not bad crying. I’m just going to miss you.”
“We’ll miss you too,” Lorraine promises.
Ed clears his throat. Without taking her eyes off Judy, Lorraine knows he’s getting choked up too. It’s a hard thing, letting their girl into the wild, crazy world.
“I’m gonna finish up these shelves,” Ed says, taking himself back over to the corner. He kneels down, rolling up his sleeves and picking up the pieces of metal shelving. “Then we’ll go find some dinner, huh?”
“Actually, a girl in the hall said most people on the floor are going out for pizza tonight,” Judy says. “I’m gonna do that so I can meet people. And Cora said she’s going, too.”
Cora is a tall girl with big glasses and curly hair. Her aura is bright, tinged bluish, sparkling with upbeat energy. She lives two rooms down from Judy and had already peered through the door while they were unpacking, greeting Judy with a big smile. They talked for a little bit; Cora said she’s from California, she has four younger siblings, and she plays softball. Lorraine casually asked whether Cora goes to church, which earned her a sharp elbow from Judy, but she was personally reassured when Cora said that she’s planning on joining the campus youth group. After that, Judy kind of shoved Lorraine out of the conversation, but not before she heard Cora say “Don’t worry, my parents are super religious too. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“Oh, it’s good that you’ll get to see Cora again,” Lorraine says now. “Do you think you’ll be friends?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Me too,” Lorraine says. As far as friends for Judy goes, Cora is a good sign. She seems so welcoming. But she’s a stranger. She could be totally lying about everything. Lorraine struggles not to let her worries overcome the positive experience of meeting Cora— Even if she was really looking forward to having dinner with Judy one last time. “Pizza sounds fun. When is that happening?”
“I think in half an hour.”
“Okay, we’ll get your shelves set up and be out of your hair.”
The next half hour flies by. Ed gets the shelves installed over the space where Judy’s roommate will hopefully put the minifridge she claims she is bringing. Lorraine hugs Judy about ten more times, and then all of a sudden they’re standing in the parking lot.
Judy is in her dorm.
Lorraine feels empty, worn though, alone.
It’s almost dusk. Between the leafy branches, the sky is turning soft shades of lavender and mauve. The parking lot is shaded, populated with the last straggling parents. Ed opens the car door, then lets it fall closed again. He covers his face with his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“Damn it.”
His voice is thick with unshed tears.
Lorraine draws him into a hug, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck, shoulders shaking beneath her hands. Tears dampen the collar of her dress and roll down her neck. Ed sniffles, struggling to get himself under control. A sob crouches in Lorraine’s throat, ready to leap into the world. It’s a release of emotion and stress that’s been pent-up since they got on the road at nine this morning, and after a moment of deep breaths, she allows herself to hold Ed and let it go. Sobs rip through her, hot saltwater flooding down her face.
“That’s our baby,” she mumbles, clinging to Ed. “Oh, she’s gonna do so good, but how can we leave her?”
Ed releases her, straightening his shirt. “Let’s go back and grab her. We can do it real quick. She can go to school at home.”
His crazy kidnapping plan has the desired effect: Lorraine laughs wetly, but it soon turns to another sob. Using the back of her hands to brush away her tears, she walks around to the passenger side. If she’s learned anything, it’s that sometimes you just have to do normal things while crying. If she stood still every time her emotions bubbled up, she’d never move.
Hopefully Judy will fare better handling her emotions. Hopefully she won’t get so overwhelmed. Hopefully she won’t do the thing she did in middle school, when she wore her coat during lunch with the hood up and didn’t talk to anyone because the cafeteria was too loud. They had to talk to the school counselor when Judy did that, and the counselor made it very clear that she didn’t think their chosen work made them fit to be parents. Lorraine leans back as far as she can, resting her head on the back of the carseat.
“Ed, how are we gonna do this? How can we just let her go?”
There’s only silence from the other side of the car. He hasn’t turned the key. When Lorraine opens her eyes, she sees that Ed is just sitting there, with the door still open. Anything to prolong their departure.
“We’re gonna be the worst,” he says. “We’re gonna bother her all the time.”
“I know. She’s gonna hate us .”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
After another long pause, Ed sits back.
“Are we bad parents?”
“Hon, don’t ask me that question. Just start the car.”
Immeasurable sadness floods Lorraine’s body when they pull out of the parking lot. She stares at the receding landscape that will be Judy’s home for the next four years, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of raising a whole person only to let her walk into the world so easily, without only a glance backwards. They make it a few miles down the darkening highway, shadowy trees swaying above their heads, before Lorraine says “What if she doesn’t make friends?”
“She already did.”
“What if she thinks she’s making friends, but they’re really cult members? Or they want her to go to parties and do drugs?”
“I don’t think Judy is going to do drugs, honey. Or go to parties. You’ve met her, right?”
“I know. I know , Ed, I just… I’m worried.”
Another few miles. The sky is turning from lavender to deep purple, the last shreds of light on the horizon peeking through the trees. Lorraine shifts in her seat, trying to think positive thoughts.
“Honestly, I’m more worried about us than Judy,” Ed says. Clearly the positive thoughts aren’t working for him. “She’s gonna do great— Who knows if she’ll even want to come home. What are we gonna do without her?”
Lorraine reaches over and takes Ed’s hand, the one that isn’t resting on the steering wheel. Lacing their fingers together, she thinks his question over. Maybe he meant it rhetorically, but it’s nothing that hasn’t already crossed Lorraine’s mind. It’s been bugging her for the past few weeks, as their house turned into a whirlwind of college preparation.
What will they do with all this time?
Investigate more cases, is the obvious answer. Still, Lorraine didn’t mind when Judy was an excuse to take on less work. They’ve barely been out of the East Coast area since she was born. Maybe Lorraine has gotten complacent, but she likes their life. No one would call it quiet, but she likes their neighborhood, their chickens, their artefact room safely blessed every week, all the evil contained and locked away.
“Well, I’ll have more time to crochet,” she starts, thinking out loud, “And you’ll have more time to paint. You know the Wheelers have been after you for a commission.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Ed doesn’t sound convinced. Lorraine doesn’t blame him. The studio will feel empty without Judy sketching beside him. The kitchen will feel empty without Judy baking or helping Lorraine with dinner.
About halfway home, Lorraine’s thoughts on their newfound time and space to themselves take a different turn, the initial panic of leaving Judy in an unknown place fading ever so slightly. Enough for her to remember a lament that has haunted them through the years. “Oh, if only we had the house to ourselves…” said mostly jokingly, a loving complaint that they had finally been blessed with the child they’d prayed for. When Judy called to come home early from a sleepover, when Ed had to cover Lorraine’s mouth and muffle her moans with Judy asleep in the room down the hall, when they found themselves looking forward to a few quiet moments in motel rooms… They would remind themselves that they were blessed, that they begged God to give them children.
Lorraine wouldn’t trade Judy for the world. But she wouldn’t trade her relationship with Ed either, and isn’t upset by the idea that she’ll have more time for him now.
“You know…” she says now, “We’ll have the house to ourselves now.”
“Yeah? Where’re you going with that, honey?”
The smirk on Ed’s face tells Lorraine that he knows exactly where she’s going with this train of thought. She grins, warming to the bright side of this new chapter in their lives.
“We won’t have to get Judy up for school,” she continues, “We can just stay in bed, whenever we want, doing whatever we want…”
Before Judy came along, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Ed and Lorraine to spend lazy mornings waking each other up, kissing and caressing until it turned naturally to something more. But there isn’t much time or energy for such things when you have to get a teenager fed, watered, and to high school by seven o’clock every morning.
“We won’t have to wait for her to get invited to sleepovers,” Ed adds.
“What was it you said once?” Lorraine asks, laughing already at the memory. “Shouldn’t a girl her age go to more sleepovers?”
“No, I said we should send her to sleepaway camp, and I was joking,” Ed clarifies, but he’s laughing now too.
“Well, we did do that one summer.”
“And it was blissful for two whole days, then she came home early.”
“At least we tried.”
The change in topic successfully lightens the mood in the car, especially as Lorraine remembers those summer days when they spent the mornings doing yard work (read: Lorraine bending over flower beds in a flimsy cotton dress) and the afternoons on whatever horizontal surface they could get to, making love in their blissfully air conditioned, empty house.
“We’re gonna have a lot more time to ourselves now, that’s for sure.”
“I guess we’ll have to make good use of it,” Ed teases.
Lorraine already knows he’ll make good on that promise in ways she can’t even imagine. In the coming weeks and months there will be times when she’ll be grateful that her daughter isn’t in danger of walking through their bedroom door. But it isn’t really enough to ease the sting of losing Judy, even if she’s less than two hours away.
The drive passes quickly enough but walking through the doorway into an empty house brings a fresh wave of grief. Lorraine slides her shoes off and goes through the house, navigating the shadowy stairs and dim hallway on autopilot. When she blinks, she’s standing in Judy’s bedroom.
She switches on Judy’s old colorful lamp, the one she’s had since she was about eleven. Where Judy’s posters used to be, the wallpaper has faded; her beloved Snoopy surrounded by flowers and, of course, the three different Elvis posters that Ed kept finding for her when he was wandering around secondhand shops. Judy decided when she was about fifteen that she actually hated Elvis. Her exact words were “He’s smarmy and only old ladies listen to him.” A dig, of course, at Lorraine, who put ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ on the record player after dinner nearly once every week. Judy pretended to be grossed out whenever her parents danced together. But she never did take down the posters, until today, when Lorraine helped her put them up in her dorm room.
Sinking onto the bed, Lorraine smoothes her hand along the comforter. When it gets cold enough that Judy needs it, the familiar navy stripes will be gone too. It seems like yesterday that Lorraine was tucking Judy into this bed, slotting in between Judy’s little body and the wall. Judy worried a lot about the artefact room when she was a kid. She would look up at Lorraine and say “Mommy, are you sure that ghosts aren’t gonna come up here?”
So Lorraine took to telling her watered down stories of past cases, always emphasizing the blessings and exorcisms, never telling Judy about the children whose bones broke and eyes rolled and skin sweated out sins they never committed. Instead, she talked about the way children would blink free of a spell and run to their mothers, comforted and safe. She told stories about little kids who saw the Devil creeping up in the mirror behind them, who saw tempting opportunities for petty sins such as stealing penny candy, and instead prayed as hard as they could. No matter how scary the world seems, Lorraine always promised, God will protect you, and I will protect you too. As long as Lorraine promised her that, Judy could sleep.
What is Judy going to do, alone in her dorm room until her roommate comes, with no one to tuck her in? No one to protect her?
Lorraine lays down on the bed, pressing her face into Judy’s pillow. Her little stuffed lamb stares back with stitched black eyes. Some fur is matted over the embroidery and Lorraine gently clears it away from the lamb’s face, then clutches it to her chest. Judy refused to take the lamb with her, saying that she hadn’t needed it to sleep since she was a kid, but Lorraine knows she’ll be lonely without it. And Lorraine is lonely, even holding onto Judy’s precious toy.
Did she know how hard this would be when she prayed to become a mother? It’s impossible now to remember whether she prepared herself for this moment, when her child would step into the world that Lorraine spent eighteen years sheltering her from, weaning her slowly into. Now she’s plunging forth to create her own life. Maybe Judy is ready, but Lorraine certainly is not.
Spent of tears, Lorraine shudders through a dry sob, inhaling the scent of Judy’s shampoo worn into the fabric of her pillow.
When Ed finds her, she’s still lying there.
Gently, he removes the little lamb from her arms, cradling it to his chest for a moment before replacing it in a place of honor at the head of Judy’s bed. Then he lays down beside Lorraine, cradling her the same way he held the plush lamb. She buries her face in his chest. Getting adjusted to life without their daughter around will be difficult. They’ll spend a lot of time worried and a lot of time lonely. They’ll call Judy too much and argue about cleaning the bathroom; now Lorraine can’t blame Judy for all the hair left in the shower. They’ll need a whole new routine. But thinking about all of that makes Lorraine feel like she’s standing beneath a waterfall, drowning in novelty.
Ed’s heartbeat is steady. A constant thud in her ears, accompanied by his warmth. Eighteen years ago, it was their love that brought Judy into their lives. Now it will be their love that buoys them through a life on their own again.