The two got on the public bus on the main highway of Luxembourg City and got down at Beggen, a small district north of the outer city. Their hands parted earlier as the bus was slowly put to a stop by the sound of oiled breaks. Cay momentarily felt for his held hand, his left felt normal but the warmness from Judas had since long faded.
The door that they knocked on was not answered and they two loitered around the neighborhood. The semi-detached houses looked similar but much larger than the one Cay lived with his family in. There were a group of kids riding on their bikes, the biggest and probably oldest of them all was attempting to hold some authority over the others by pointing where they should go. His jurisdiction cut short by the fear of venturing to far into the rest of the neighborhood.
The knock was finally answered by a man in his twenties (around Judas’ age, Cay thought) after their legs felt uncomfortable from all the walking and standing. The man who answered in a "Luxembourgish" accent that sounded distinguishable from French, excused himself to the side as the two greeted him with weary smiles as they stepped past him. The hallway was nothing impressive compared to the room on the left: decorated pillows sitting on expensive-looking sofas, a high definition television sized at least sixty-five inches wide, and extravagant decorations on the walls and furniture though suitable. The man informed them that he was instructed by the landlady to lead them to their room, they were later told that he had been a tenant who came from the far north of the country to participate in a football game. The man indeed looked fit as an athlete, though not as strong as a professional.
Perhaps it was due to the language barriers the duo and the footballer were having that he was overly polite, which caused some quick but absorptive awkwardness between them. He slipped himself into his bed, a double, while the two slid their bags beside their individual ones.
Cay went downstairs to the toilet without telling Judas, the latter saw him down with his eyes before getting back to unpacking and undressing. By the time Cay came back up, wet and fresh from a steaming hot shower, Judas was topless. It did not occur to Cay that Judas had a back that would be envied by smaller-built men, his broad shoulders would have been mistaken for a regular swimmer and his solid waist as a man who kept his core strength well maintained. He suddenly felt a discomforting feeling and went to his bed to begin unpacking.
They were each given a chain of keys as the footballer explained to them like he was a family member of the house.
“And finally this is the key to the balcony in the..the….”, the footballer stuttered.
“The back?”, Cay made a suggestive guess without trying to be rude.
“Ah! Yes! The back!”, he said like the word came to his senses and he placed the last key along the metal ring of the others.
He went back upstairs, leaving the two in front of the entrance. They were tired yet still curious enough to explore, even if it was just the row of shops they saw across the river from where they came. Hunger was a factor but not a concern as Judas pointed out a Turkish or pizza joint with writings faintly visible from their distance. They began following the concrete pavement laid on the side of the road and reached a row of shops not across the river.
Cay did not feel the discomfort that he had earlier in the house and proceeded to sit down apposite to his companion, who later got up to receive the tray of food from a man with middle-eastern features and skin colour. He thanked the employee and laid the food on Cays’ side of the table before taking his items from the tray. Sitting down, he gave Cay a smile that felt neither benign nor a hint of tension.
*
“Hey, mother. Are you feeling better?”, Judas showed up at Alexandre’s hospital bedside one morning. A banquet of white daisies freshly cut and jarred on the white bed table, the unseasonal bloom resonated the cold warmth given by the sunlight through the wide-panelled window.
“My Judashka, I have been well.”, her affection shone through her brittle spirit.
“That’s good to hear, I brought you some fruits as well.”, he answered at the painful sight of his mother’s smile.
He presented her with her favourite grapes bought from the local side market outside of the Mayflower Theatre, near the rotting flesh of a three-day’s old victim. The dark skin of the grapes enhanced the sweetness of their look, sometimes Judas would wonder if they tasted like alcohol to her. He plucked some from the stems and brought them under the stream of water at the basin before leaving them on a white porcelain bowl for his mother. She looked briefly satisfied that her son knew what she liked as she brought the darkest and juiciest one of all into her mouth, a faint and mushy crunch could be hear coming out from her closed mouth.
“How’s my baby doing lately?”, she asked after finishing the plump grape.
“I’m doing good.”
“How’s work?”
“It’s been going well, my manager told me I could take a few more days off.”
“That’s great, you should visit me more often.”
“I should, mother.”, he held her free hand, cupped it in both of his for fear it may be exposed to danger.
She placed the bowl on the bedtable and ran her fingers through her son’s thick and luscious black hair, again and again. She had always found comfort in doing it to Judas, if not to her husband. She felt saddened by the abrupt reminiscence but kept on stroking his hair, her delicate fingernails scraping lightly on his scalp.
“Mother, really, I’m well.”
“I know.”, he knew that she was lying but kept her emotions purposefully behind her mind.
“I have to go now.”, he said it after a long pause.
“Already? Why not stay for a bit.”
“I have a brief meeting later with the team.”
“Alright, I’ll have to let you off for now. But please come back to see your mother soon, she gets lonely when her son is out there by himself.”
“I know, mother. I promised you that, haven’t I?”
“Indeed, you have.”
Judas turned his back without looking back until he closed the door behind him, he glimpsed at an unmistakable sight of the reddened eyes of his mother that was not there a moment ago and closed the door.
He had been over his grieving period since a while ago, the sight of his mother only enraged him, which sustained himself in some way. He was not plotting anything then but thinking about the fragility of his mother gave him a hope. A hope that he would succeed in revenging his family and finally release himself from this drunken power.
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