Monday morning at 743 Evergreen Terrace was quiet.
Manjula was upstairs. The soundproofing crew he'd hired had come over yesterday. They worked fast. Every room upstairs was now isolated.
Leo stood in the kitchen with a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He was looking at the same screen he'd been looking at, on and off, since Saturday night.
On the screen was the text he'd sent Marge.
Leo: Thank you for last night. The pot roast was the best I've had in years. The company even better. Tell Lisa I'll see her Tuesday. You can bring her here or I can visit over there.
Sent at 10:47 p.m. Saturday. Two ticks. Read at 10:49 p.m. Saturday.
No reply. All Sunday, no reply. Now, Monday at ten in the morning, no reply.
He kept checking, but he wasn't very worried about it. This was expected. He set the phone face-down on the counter.
He could still taste her, if he thought about it long enough. Her lips had been sweet, her tongue brief and warm. She'd made a small sound he had not been expecting. He kept thinking about the half-second after it, when she'd pressed harder before she pulled back, the way her fingers had curled into the back of his neck. That was what he kept coming back to. The grip of her hand on him.
He took a sip of his coffee.
The phone vibrated face-down against the counter. He flipped it over.
Not Marge.
Maude: Leo, I am so sorry to ask on such short notice, but would it be possible to come over today for a Bible study? I know it is not planned like our usual days. I would not ask if it were not a difficult time. Please.
Leo set the phone down a second time, more slowly.
'I wonder what it could be? Well. This can keep me occupied for now at least.' Leo thought.
He typed back.
Leo: Of course, Maude. Come whenever you'd like. The door is open. Any guesses for around when you might stop by?
He pocketed the phone and went upstairs.
Manjula was in the spare bedroom they had quietly turned into hers, the iron hissing softly, a sari spread out on the board. She was barefoot on the carpet in a thin white cotton nightgown that ended high on her thigh. Her long black braid was pulled forward over one shoulder, the end of it curling against the curve of one big breast. God, he really needed to fuck her again. Leo knew the time for that was close.
"Manjula."
She looked up.
"A potential client for my manufacturing branch is coming by in about an hour. Paperwork and some negotiations. I'm going to need you up here until I knock. Bedroom or bathroom, not the hallway, not the stairs."
"Of course, Leo." Her soft Indian accent always sounded so obedient.
"He's the chatty type. He'll probably stay for a coffee. Could be an hour, could be two. So get comfortable."
"I will stay."
"Good girl."
He stepped close and pulled her into his embrace. She was fine with it. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and went back downstairs.
He pulled the Bible off the shelf and set it on the coffee table. It was never used besides when Maude was over.
…
Maude didn't respond to his text. It didn't matter. The doorbell rang forty minutes later.
He opened the door and his eyebrows lifted just slightly.
Maude was on the porch in a soft pink sundress. The thing was, today it didn't look like she had spent much time tidying up. The thin strap behind her neck had been tied in a knot that was off to one side, like she'd done it without a mirror, and the whole top of the dress sat a half-inch lower than it should have. Two thirds of the deep line of her cleavage was on display, the pale skin between her enormous boobs pushed together by a bra that hadn't been adjusted properly, the cup on one side riding up slightly higher than the other under the fabric. The sash at her waist had been knotted on the side instead of the back, and the bow drooped, pulling the fabric of the skirt up on one hip and exposing more of one creamy thigh than the other. She had on white sandals, and one of the straps wasn't fully buckled. Her cute toes wiggled nervously.
Her ginger hair had been done in a hurry. A few of the strands were loose and not brushed. She was holding her purse against her stomach with both hands.
"Maude. Come in."
"Leo, I am so sorry —"
"Don't be."
"Calling you on a Monday with no warning, this is not like me, I just —"
"Maude. Come in. The kettle's on."
He stepped aside. She stepped past him in a cloud of the floral perfume she always wore. He closed the door behind her and locked it without thinking about it.
She was already half-apologizing again when he turned around. "I really am sorry. I tried to wait until Wednesday but I — I couldn't sleep last night, Leo. I read until four in the morning and it only made it worse, and Ned —" She caught herself.
"Ned what?"
"Ned could not come." She hesitated. "There was an issue at the Leftorium. He had to drive over first thing this morning."
Leo paused on his way back to the kitchen. "The Leftorium?"
She blinked at him, gentle. "Oh… I forget how new you are to Springfield. You haven't been. It's Ned's store. He owns it. It's downtown by the mall."
"What does he sell?"
"Everything for left-handed people."
Leo paused for a second. "Like…" Leo said questioningly.
"Like everything." She managed a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Scissors, can openers, notebooks, golf clubs. Mugs with the handle on the other side. He's very proud of it. He started it years ago because he said the world wasn't built for southpaws. Today one of the displays fell over and a customer slipped, so he had to —"
"Wait," Leo said. "Wait. There's a whole store. For left-handed people. In Springfield."
"It does pretty well, actually."
'I have to go see this place at some point.' Leo should really not be getting surprised this easily after being in Springfield for a while now. But that was easier said than done.
"That… that's great," he finally said. "Tell Ned I want to come check it out one of these days."
"Oh, he would love that." Her smile flickered.
It quickly fell. Her hands tightened on the strap of her purse, and just like that the whole weight she had walked in carrying came back down on her shoulders, and her shoulders gave under it.
"I'm sorry," she said again. "I just… I thought, if I could come over and we could just read something, anything, it might help me clear my head. I haven't been able to think straight."
"Maude." He set a hand lightly on her upper arm. Her skin under his palm was warm and smooth. "It's why I'm here. Come on. Sit down. I'll get you a cup of tea and we'll figure out what's going on."
She nodded and let herself be steered toward the living room.
…
She sat on the couch this time instead of one of the chairs. She picked the corner closest to the piano.
He went to the kitchen and made the tea the way she liked it. A single sugar, a splash of milk, the bag left in for exactly two minutes. He brought it back. She had her purse in her lap and her hands folded on top of it like she was waiting for a doctor to call her name.
"Here you go."
"Thank you, Leo."
He sat down in the chair across from her.
"What's going on?"
She wrapped both hands around the cup. She looked at the surface of the tea instead of at him.
"I have something I need to tell you. About the boys. About… about something that's been weighing on me very heavily."
"Okay."
"And I would like to. I came here to. But —" Her throat moved. "I don't know if I can say it while looking at you, Leo. It's not because of you. It's just hard. I'm sorry. I know that sounds strange."
Leo kept his face soft. "It doesn't sound strange at all."
"I just… if I can't see your face while I say it, I think it'll come out easier. I know I sound silly. But it'll probably be easier to let it all out that way."
"You don't sound silly." He paused like he was thinking. "Would it be easier if we sat side by side, then? It probably is harder right now since I'm directly across from you."
Her shoulders dropped about an inch.
"Yes. Yes, that… that would help."
"Okay." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Although… Maude. Honestly. If you're this wound up, maybe before we even get into it, you should play a little first. You've said it yourself, the piano calms you down. Get the worst of it out of your hands, then we can talk about the rest. Sound good?"
She actually exhaled at that. The tightness in her face loosened a little bit.
"That does sound good, actually. Yes."
She set the tea down on the table. She took a step toward the piano, and then, she paused in the middle of the room with her hands twisted together in front of her, looking at the bench.
He let her stand there for the count of two.
"Did you want your personal chair? Like last time?" he asked, light.
"…If you don't mind."
"I don't mind, Maude."
He crossed the room and sat down on the piano bench first. He patted his thigh once, motioning to her.
She came over with her hands clasped in front of her stomach. He took her hand to steady her, settled his other palm on the side of her hip, and guided her down.
She lowered herself onto his lap slowly, the soft heavy weight of her butt settling across his thighs through the thin pink dress. She was heavy in the right way. The full round of each cheek spread out under her as she sat, the heat of her coming straight through the dress. His thigh was already cradling the soft underside of one of her cheeks. He could feel exactly where the seam of her panties cut across her cheeks. Her back came to rest against his chest, and the smell of her perfume rose up off her skin.
"There," he said, low, near her ear. "Comfortable?"
"…Yes."
"Whenever you're ready."
She placed her hands on the keys. She picked something slow. It was a hymn he didn't recognize but she clearly did, all the way through her fingers.
And from his angle, looking down past her shoulder at the keys, he got the second view of a sight he hadn't gotten since their very first Bible study. When she'd played piano and he'd stood behind her and caught the edge of an areola under her slipping dress. Only this time, the view was better.
The crooked knot that Maude had failed to tie properly had pulled the whole top of the dress sideways enough that, from above, he could see straight down the front of it. The bra she had thrown on without checking the mirror had not been fully pulled up on one side. The side closer to him had fallen so low that the pale top of her breast was almost entirely out of it. And not just the top. The fabric of the cup had slid down past the start of the soft pink curve of her areola, and a clear half-moon of it sat exposed, pale rose and surprisingly large, the very edge of one nipple just barely tucked back under the cup. It was big for a woman so petite. Every time she leaned forward to reach a key, the dress shifted with her, and the half-moon of her areola got a little bigger. By the time she finished playing her whole nipple would unknowingly be hanging out.
He kept his hands light. One on the side of her hip. One resting easy on her thigh, just on top of the pink fabric. He did not move them. He did not let his breathing change.
She finished the hymn. She really held the last chord. Let it completely ring out. By the time she struck the last chord, the nipple had emerged completely. Leo sat there listening to it ring out, staring at that beautiful pink nipple.
He had pictured what it would fully look like more times than he wanted to admit. But now, he no longer had to imagine it.
She didn't get up.
Leo didn't want her to.
…
Finally, in the silence, still on his lap, she began to talk.
"I have known for a long time that something was different with the boys," she said.
Her hands stayed on the keys, fingers resting lightly on the white. Her eyes were closed.
"Not wrong. Just… different. Rod does not look people in the eyes when they talk to him, Leo. Not me, not his father, not his own grandparents. Todd lines up his toys. Every morning. The same order. If I move one of them to dust the shelf he knows. He cries. And if another child at the church picnic takes one of his matchbox cars off the row, he has a meltdown that lasts an hour."
"Okay."
"They don't play with the other boys at Sunday school. Never. They play next to them. Do you know what I mean? I used to think it was shyness. I used to think Rod would grow out of it. I told myself for years that he would grow out of it."
She took a breath.
Leo made a quiet sound to let her know he was listening.
"I finally said something to Ned a few months ago. He said they were just boys being boys. Every child is different. God made them special. He is not wrong, Leo. He is a wonderful father. But he cannot see it. I — I found a doctor. A specialist. Outside Springfield. I didn't tell anyone. Not even Ned. I took them and said it was the dentist."
"Maude."
"They did a lot of tests. And they asked a lot of questions about the boys. About me and Ned. Our families."
Her voice had gotten smaller.
"And that was what the doctor wanted to talk about after the tests were done. The family side. He sat me down and he said that both boys were on the spectrum. Very far on it. He said it was very clear. And then he said... he said that given what they were presenting with, and given the pattern, he was all but certain it was through their fathers genes."
"Mm."
"He said future children Ned and I had together would almost certainly be the same. Probably worse, not better."
Leo did not say anything to that. He let it sit.
"And then he said —" Her voice was going very thin now. "He said the boys would likely need someone with them their whole lives. Not always in a hospital way, just… someone. To watch over them. To explain the world to them. To help them do the things other people do on their own. That they may never quite manage friends, or a job, or marriage, or any of it without a hand. That I should be prepared for that. That Ned and I would be their people for as long as we were alive, and then we would have to find other people to be their people, and I sat there in his office and I —"
Her hands lifted off the keys and clasped together in her lap.
She was very quiet for a moment.
"Ned is a good man, Leo. He has never raised his voice to me. He has never touched me in anger. He prays for our family every night. And what the doctor told me was not his fault. He did not choose any of it."
She pressed the heel of her hand under her eye.
"But it still hurts, Leo. It hurts so much. Because the doctor was saying, without saying, that every child Ned and I will ever make together will be like Rod and Todd. And I love Rod and Todd more than anything in the world, I would die for them, they are perfect to me... but I cannot bring another baby into this house knowing what will happen to them. Knowing they will need a hand for their whole life, and that Ned and I will one day be gone, and he will not have us anymore. I cannot do it. And I cannot — I cannot try again with Ned. Not really. Every time it will be the same result. And he does not know that yet, and I have not been able to tell him."
She was shaking very slightly against Leo's chest now.
"And so I came home from that doctor and I went into our bedroom and I read my Bible. All night. I have been reading it every night since. About what God asks of us. About what a wife is for. And I thought — I thought the comfort would be there. I thought I would find the passage that said 'it is all right, Maude, these boys are enough.' And instead, Leo —"
Her voice cracked.
"Genesis says be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth. Psalm 127 says children are a heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. Proverbs 31 says a virtuous wife, her children rise up and call her blessed. 1 Samuel says the Lord makes some women fruitful and some women barren by His own hand. And then —" She swallowed. "— then there is Deuteronomy 28, Leo. Deuteronomy 28. Where it talks about the blessings that fall on the house of the faithful. Blessed shall be the fruit of thy body. The fruit of thy body. Healthy children, capable children, children who can stand on their own two feet and carry on the name and the faith. That is what God promises to the righteous woman. And the chapter that comes after it lists the curses. The afflictions. The children who cannot carry the work forward."
Her shoulders were shaking in earnest now.
"And I sat there in the dark and I thought... what does it mean, Leo? What does it mean that my quiver has two arrows in it that were made wrong? That cannot be fixed? What does it mean that I cannot even try for another one without knowing in advance what they will be? Am I being punished? Is Ned? Have I been a poor enough wife that the Lord withheld the blessing? Was there something I did not pray hard enough for? Did I — did I —"
A drop landed on the back of her hand on the keys.
"Did you tell Ned?" Leo asked softly. "About what the doctor said?"
"No."
"No?"
"I cannot, Leo. Not yet. Not until I understand it myself. I tried to tell him something… last night, just that I had been worrying about the boys. He hugged me and told me not to worry. That everything would be fine. And then he went back to organizing the garage."
Her voice was very small.
"But he didn't read what I read. He didn't sit with it. He just trusted, and the rest of it — what the doctor actually said, and what it means about trying again — I have not been able to put into words for him. I don't know how, Leo. He would blame himself. He is the softest man in the world and he would take it on himself and I cannot do that to him. Not until I know what to do."
She put the palm of one of her hands under her eye.
"And the more I read, the worse it got. Every page. Every passage. The same thing. I am supposed to do this, and I cannot. And the man I married is the reason I cannot."
Leo let his hand on her thigh slide upward, slowly, until his arm was fully around her waist, and he gathered her gently back against his chest. She came easily, her breath shuddering once, her head coming down to rest on the side of his neck.
"Maude," he said softly. "Thank you."
"For what."
"For trusting me with this. I know you didn't have anyone else to bring it to. I'm honored you brought it here."
She made a small, broken sound. Not crying yet. Almost.
He held her there for a long moment. Let her feel held. Let the weight that had walked in the door come down on him for a minute instead of on her.
Then, in a low voice he told her, "Come on. Let's get you off this bench. You'll be more comfortable on the couch."
He slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, and stood up out from under her in one smooth motion that lifted her clean off the bench. She made a tiny startled sound and looped her arms around his neck on instinct. Her pink sundress slid up the back of her thigh with the motion.
He carried her the eight feet to the couch with her cheek tucked under his jaw, set himself down in the middle cushion first, and lowered her into his lap as he sat, so that she came down onto him in roughly the same position she had been in on the bench. She sat across his thighs, back to his chest, the soft heavy weight of her settling onto him through the thin fabric.
Except now there was no piano in front of her hands. Just her own lap. And the open Bible on the coffee table.
"Better?" he murmured.
"…Yes."
He reached past her for the Bible and let it fall open across her smooth soft thighs.
"I want to read you something. Just listen."
She nodded, eyes wet.
He flipped the pages until he found what he wanted. He read it out loud, slow and steady, his voice low at her ear.
"'Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.'"
He let it sit.
"That's Ruth," he said. "Speaking to Naomi. After Naomi has lost everything. The family she was supposed to build. Naomi has failed at the one thing women in her time were supposed to do. Just like you. And what does God do, Maude? He doesn't punish her. He puts Ruth at her side. He places the right person beside her in the worst moment of her life, and tells her: this is the way through."
Maude was crying, very quietly. He could feel each small breath against his throat.
"God doesn't ask the same thing of every woman, Maude. And when he sees one of his daughters carrying more than she can carry alone, He puts someone beside her. To help her bear it."
He set the Bible aside on the cushion. Brought his hand back to rest on top of both of hers in her lap.
"You are not failing at being who God made you," he said. "You are being asked to bear something heavier than most women are ever asked to carry, and you have been trying to do it alone. That isn't faith. I would even say it's pride. The people who support you have a job too. Trust in the people the Lord puts beside you in this. Let us — let me help you carry it. That's what I'm here for."
"Leo —"
"I'm going to spend this week looking. Really looking. There are passages. Hannah, Sarah, Hagar, Ruth. They all are about women going through exactly this kind of dark room and being brought out the other side. We'll go through them together."
"You would do that?" She looked up at him.
"Of course I would."
She closed her eyes. A tear rolled all the way down her cheek and onto the back of his hand.
"Will you — could I come back tomorrow? Could we — could I —"
"I've got the Simpson kids here in the early evening for tutoring," Leo scheduled it late on purpose, since Marge still hadn't responded, "but come by afterwards. I'll be here."
"Thank you, Leo. Thank you."
He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He lowered his voice.
"You know, there's a line from Ecclesiastes I keep thinking about. The same book we read at the very first study. 'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.' A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn —"
His other hand came up and turned her face toward him by the chin, gentle.
"— and a time to dance. A time to embrace, Maude."
He was very close now. Her wet eyes were on his mouth.
"I think this is one of the times to embrace."
He kissed her.
It was nothing like Marge. Marge had grabbed him after Leo made her wait. Here, Leo turned Maude and moved his lips towards her.
Maude was slow, soft, hesitant, scared. Her mouth trembled against his. Her lips were fuller than they looked, the waxy pink lipstick warm and slightly sweet against his own, the hint of tea still on her breath. He kept it gentle, light pressure, almost no movement, his hand still on top of hers. Just enough.
She made a tiny sound and pulled back. Half an inch.
"Leo, I — I —"
"Shh."
He didn't let her get any further than that half-inch. His hand on her jaw stayed where it was, his thumb stroking once along the line of her cheekbone, and he leaned in and kissed her again before she could finish the sentence. Slow. A little firmer this time. He let his lips part against hers, let her feel the shape of it, gave her a second to decide and then pressed in the rest of the way when she didn't pull back further.
She made a small sound into his mouth. It was surprise, maybe, or relief, and her free hand came up to his cheek on its own. He tilted her face a little more toward him, deepening the angle, his tongue brushing once, lightly, against her lower lip.
"Oh God," she whispered when he let her breathe. Half prayer, half not.
He didn't say anything. He just brought his hand from her jaw down to the side of her neck and turned her face back to his again. The pale skin of her throat was flushed now, hot against his palm, the pulse under his thumb going much faster than it had been a minute ago.
She came back into the kiss this time without him having to lead her, but he was still the one setting the pace, the one deepening it, the one holding her where he wanted her. Her body was twisted sideways across his lap, the back of her head against his shoulder, her chin tilted up so his mouth could keep finding hers at that strained angle, and once he had her there he didn't let her go.
He took it slow. Slower than he wanted. He could feel her getting used to it under him, the way her lips remembered what to do, the way her tongue grew braver in tiny increments. He kept one hand cupped at the side of her throat and let the other rest, warm and still, on her hip. The curve of it under his palm was generous for a woman so petite, full and soft through the thin pink cotton, the weight of her settling harder against his lap the more she gave in to the kiss.
A minute passed. Maybe two.
He felt the moment her body finally gave in. She turned a little further into him, her shoulder pressing against his chest, her free hand coming up off the Bible to lay flat against his chest. The kiss deepened, slow and wet. Her tongue, the second time it found his, stayed. Her mouth was warm and willing now, parting a little wider for him each time he came back to it, her breath coming fast and shallow.
Her breathing changed. So did the small involuntary motion of her lower body where it sat across his lap. He could feel every shift of it through the thin cotton, her entire ass spreading across the tops of his thighs, the heat of her pressing down through the fabric. His cock was hard in his jeans and had been since she'd sat down on the piano bench in front of him. With the way she was settled on his lap now, there was no chance she hadn't felt it pressed against the back of her thigh. She did not move away from it.
Another minute. Her hand on his chest curled into the fabric of his shirt and didn't let go.
She made a small high sound against his mouth and her free hand left his chest and came up to bury itself in the hair at the back of his head. She pulled him a little harder into the kiss without realizing she was doing it. From his angle, with her head tilted back over her shoulder, the slipped cup of her bra under the loose top of the sundress was still fully defeated. The soft pink areolas were still fully visible, the large stiff point of her nipple pressed up against the thin cotton of the dress from the inside, making a small obvious bump under the pink fabric while they kissed.
He let his hand on her hip drift inward, just to the soft top of her thigh where the skirt of the sundress had ridden up. Her bare skin was warm and smoother than a woman her age had any right to be. He didn't go further. He just laid the hand there.
She didn't move it.
She leaned harder into the kiss.
Past the curve of her ankle, her feet had given her away too. The white sandal with the half-buckled strap had come loose entirely and slipped off, dropping to the rug on her side of the couch. The other one was still on, barely, hanging off the tip of her foot by its one working strap. Her toes were curling in, the pink-painted nails digging into nothing, a pretty little reaction she had no idea she was doing. Every time his tongue went deeper into her mouth her toes curled a little harder.
A minute later, head still turned back over her shoulder to find his mouth, hand still in his hair, the other one on his thigh, her purse on the cushion next to her began to vibrate.
Then it began to ring.
She froze against his mouth.
She turned her head, slowly, and looked down at her purse like she'd forgotten what one was. She fished the phone out with a hand that wasn't quite steady. The screen said NEDDY.
She looked up at Leo, panicked.
He just smiled at her, calm. Gestured at the phone. 'Answer it.' Then mouthed it, "go on."
She swallowed, sat up a little straighter on his lap, and answered.
"H-hi, honey."
[A/N]: How does bro know all them bible verses off the top of his head. Bro must've been some past life priest spitting them and finding them on a dime.
[A/N] (2): A comment said I do need a bit more Simpson absurdity. I am on the agreeing side. I think I've fallen into allowing Leo's normalcy views affect every character. I will start sprinkling more back in after the next chapter.
[A/N] (3): Lakers in five.
[A/N] (4): Goddam 5.3k words. I really need to bring the chapters down back to 2k like they were originally. This one was originally 6k then I split them up and it somehow reached 5.3k despite that. I'm really going to get that under control so I do not burn out.