Steel Me Away by Vivian Lux

house, unwelcome and unnoticed.

Chapter 11
     
    J.
     
    It felt smaller. Choking and claustrophobic.  The house bore down on him with the weight of the past, threatening to crush all the progress he'd made in the past six years.  All the work he had done, all the effort he had made to become something bigger and better than this stifling space. In stepping through that front door, he could very well believe that he was still the same boy of eighteen, the day before his world had been rocked by his best friend's betrayal.  Still beholden to his mama.  Still confined to these narrow streets in this one corner of Philadelphia that used to be his entire world.
The only thing that let him believe things had changed was the sound of Emmy's sweet breath behind him. 
    She had his back.  With her here, he felt as if might be possible to sit through dinner with his mom and sister without screaming and running for the door.  Emmy would keep the rage at bay, he told himself.  She was the only one who could.
    Once they were in the living room, his mother turn wordlessly and walked back to the kitchen.  She began banging pots and pans, letting them all know how hard she was working, and how they should really come in there and help her.  But instead J. ignored the tiny flicker of the habit of guilt, and instead flopped onto the sagging pink couch that took up much of the living room. 
    "You need a new TV," he observed, gesturing to the wood paneled behemoth that hulked in the corner.  It was the same one he had watched as a child.
    "How we gonna afford that?" Janelle wondered.
    "I could get one for you, I guess." J. wondered where the hell that offer had come from.
    "A flat screen would let you have a bit more room in here," Emmy piped up.  J. looked at her fondly and patted the space on the couch next to him.
    She came to him immediately, wiggling herself into the tight space in a very appealing way.  J. ran his fingers up the soft curve of her neck and tangled them in her silky, fine hair.  He wished his sister would leave them alone for a moment.
    Janelle was wound too tightly to get the hint.  "That's be great J., but I don't think Randy would like you buying anything for us."
    J. felt cold like fingers clutching his heart.  "Randy?" he asked, tasting the unfamiliar nickname on his tongue.  "He goes by Randy now?"  He chuckled, willing his heartbeat to slow down and stop asking for a fight.  "Well an asshole deserves an asshole name, I guess."
    He felt Emmy shoot him a look.  Don't get too worked up, it said.  He wanted to start counting backwards from ten, but his sister's voice was drowning out all efforts to calm himself.
    "Don't do this J.," she was pleading, her voice rising higher and higher.  It drove itself into his ears like nails on a chalkboard, only serving to anger him further.  "He's my boyfriend, he's good to us, he's good to Mama.  It's different now, and he's sorry, he really is.  I wish you'd forgive him, he was just a kid."
    "Sorry," J. spat.  Emmy slipped a small hand over his and he resisted the urge to jerk it away and stand up.  "I'll wait to hear it from his mouth before I start thinking about forgiveness." J. looked around the room pointedly.  "I notice he's not here to speak for himself?"
    Janelle pressed her lips together.  "He was getting you a case from the beer distributors. "
    "How long ago was that?"
    She tapped her foot and wouldn't look at him. 
    "Ah, there's my answer." J. felt his own foot tapping up and down in imitation of her anxious pose.  He felt like he was mocking her, but he couldn't stop.  Emmy's hand was bouncing up and down on his.  She pressed down to stop him, but he only jiggled harder.
    Footfall on the wooden stairs of the porch froze all three of them.  Heavy, manly tread.  Both Janelle and Emmy shot J. terrified looks and he shut his eyes to avoid their gaze.
    Ten nine eight seven six five four three two one.
    But he had forgotten to breathe.
    And