Moist Words

Note: this story mentions a sexual assault attempt and gun violence

"Speak now, if you will, milady, lest your lips remain parched for moist words".

Julianna rolled her eyes at Roosevelt Brown. Roosevelt, or ‘Big Ro’ as he was called by his friends, was a 17-year-old junior that had been hounding Julianna for a date since last semester.

Roosevelt transferred into Julianna's high school the previous year. He wasn’t shy about letting her know how he felt about her. Julianna did not share the sentiment.

They didn't have any classes together, but Big Ro always seemed to find a way to catch Julianna in the hallways during passing periods. Each time he saw her, he used the brief moments to repeat some famous quote or share one of his original poems. She was not interested in him or his fancy words.

“What are you talking about Roosevelt?”

“Ah, the sweet sound of a lark, chirping in the forest of academia.”

Julianna never knew what to say when he began to drip his syrupy words of adoration for her. She curled her lips into a stubborn smile and continued to walk down the hallway leading to her locker.

“Moist words?” Julianna said, flaring her nose. “That sounds obscene."

She wasn’t offended, she just liked giving him a hard time. No need to encourage him, she thought, especially if she wasn’t romantically interested.

“Obscene, obscene, obscene…"

Roosevelt repeated this word in a slow and methodical manner. Julianna couldn’t tell if he was trying to find a word to rhyme with ‘obscene’ or if he was mesmerized by the sound. Julianna rifled through her locker to switch out the books for her next class.

“I find it quite obscene that the counselor has yet to manage to synchronize our class schedules. We have many of the same courses but ironically, they are at different times.”

Julianna looked at him without turning her head.

“I find the harsh hammering of the school bell quite obscene as it marks yet another moment of our departure from one another.”

Julianna looked away and resumed switching out her books. Roosevelt continued.

“Alas, what I find most obscene are the 48 hours that your beauty is withheld from mine eyes during week’s end.”

Of course, this was hyperbole. But the puppy-dog look on Roosevelt's face was convincing. Anyone who didn't know him might think him traumatized. Julianna thought he would definitely make a good actor one day.

She pulled a small bottle of sanitizer from her locker and poured a few drops into her hands. she rubbed them together, releasing the smell of cherry blossom and citrus.

Roosevelt closed his eyes And inhaled deeply. Julianna replaced the bottle inside the locker and took out a small bottle of lotion. She squeezed out a dime- size amount of the cream and massaged it into her fingers and knuckles.

“Oh, the delicate habits of a demure female.,” he swooned.

“Oh, I just don’t want to be ashy.,” she sang, batting her eyelashes.

He reached out to touch her hand. “Soft and supple, as a woman should be”.

Juliana softly pushed his hand off hers.

“Well, gotta go.” Julianna placed the lotion back inside her locker. She closed its metal door and began to walk away.

With long strides, Roosevelt fell in step beside her. He held open the double doors of the hall, letting her pass through.

“I await our subsequent meeting Julianna, regardless of its ephemeral nature. Every moment should be appreciated as a gift.” 

Coming up was a 4-way split that branched off Julianna’s path from Roosevelt’s. While her next class took her to the right, his would be taking him to the left.

As he turned the corner, Roosevelt did an about-face, walking backward to see Julianna as she continued walking in the opposite direction. He raised his deep voice above the ambient roar of the passing students.

“Obscene, obscene…” he started again. Before she was out of earshot, Julianna heard what sounded like “obscene”, but could have easily been “all be seein’ ya”.

Julianna turned around to show him one of the scrunched-up faces she usually gave him. He was already gone. When she turned back around, she smiled to herself. Annoying or not, some of his wordsmith ways were cute, she thought. But of course, she would never tell him so.

She didn’t want to give any impression of being interested. So, she kept up her ruse of impartiality and unaffected emotion.

Roosevelt wasn’t like this outside of school. In the hood, he had a vastly different persona. It wasn’t one of a thug or criminal, but it was different. Tougher. On the occasion that Julianna saw Big Ro on the street, she noticed he rarely spoke at all.

At 6’4” and 312 lbs., Big Ro could look intimidating. But he was a lover at heart, not a fighter. If Ro noticed Julianna in a public setting, he would forego his usual prepared speeches and serenades that he’d recite at school. Out here, his communication consisted of a secretive smile and a loving gaze. Thankfully, his clandestine method went unnoticed by everyone else, but Julianna.

School Roosevelt was outspoken. He expressed his love of speech as a member of the debate club, and student government, and by volunteering with the morning announcements. Most days his voice resonated through the speakers of the P.A. system talking about upcoming events and news about students and teachers.

His voice was nice, Julianna would give him that. She was surprised he didn't use it for choir. It was deep, rich, and resonated when he spoke. Instead of singing with an ensemble, he chose to sing words of flattery to his muse. He was a bit of a flirt with girls in general, but with Julianna, he was a debonaire, sweet-talking Casanova. Sometimes too sweet.

***

"Speak now! C'mon girl, speak up!"

Roosevelt's mother held a young lady by the shoulder. The teen had been knocking furiously at Mrs. Brown’s door moments before. Now the two stood in the front room of Roosevelt’s house.

The girl was Tashiba Freeman, one of Ro’s ‘home girls’ from the block. Her face was bruised. Her hair was astray. A large rip in her shirt was exposing part of her brassiere underneath. There was blood on the side of her shirt and pants. Mrs. Brown shook her, trying to snap her out of her indecipherable babble.

"What's wrong? What happened? Did somebody hurt you?"

The girl mouthed silent words, holding her head in her hands. Crimes against young girls were an unfortunate occurrence in that part of town that had been increasing recently. The girl shook her head.

"Big Ro..."

"Big Ro?"

"Roosevelt. Roosevelt got hurt."

"My son is hurt. Where is he?"

"They took him.

"Who took him?"

"The police. The ambulance."

"Which one girl? Who took him? What happened?"

Tashiba was out of breath. She took some slow, deep breaths and started talking again.

"The police showed up. They picked him up. He was hurt. He was trying to help me."

"Why did the police pick him up?"

The girl’s story wasn’t making sense. Mrs. Brown was torn between staying with this confusing schoolgirl and leaving to find her son. She stayed, patiently trying to listen.

"Some guy, some drugged-out guy. He jumped on me. He was trying to feel me up. I don't know what he was on. He just started putting his hands all over me. I don't know where he came from. Me and Roosevelt were chilling outside of the library. This guy came from nowhere and started putting his hands all over me. Ro was trying to push him away. The guy got all aggressive and started fighting with Ro. There was a gunshot-"

At the word gunshot, Roosevelt's mother froze.

"What gun? Where was everybody else?"

"I don't know. Nobody was in the parking lot. Nobody driving by stopped to help. Nobody came out of the library to see what was going on. Then the gun went off."

"Who had the gun?"

Tashiba looked away from Darlene Brown, a mother who had dedicated her life to her husband and only child.

"I did. I was aiming for the guy. Not Ro. I didn't have a chance to pull it out when the guy came at me. But then Ro pulled him off me. They started tussling. I panicked. The guy was smaller than Ro, but like I said he was on something. He was mad strong. He had his hands on Ro's throat. They were rolling around. I pulled out my gun and aimed at the guy, but they kept rolling around. I hit Ro by mistake."

"My baby! Where is he now?"

"Somebody called the police. They took the other guy away. They were trying to arrest Ro, but then I told them what happened and they saw he was hurt. The ambulance came. They took him to the hospital. I ran here to tell you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Mrs. Brown. I was trying to stop that crazy guy from killing Ro."

"My son...

More knocking came from the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Brown? It's the police!"

Before she had a chance to respond, the door swung open. It had been standing ajar since Mrs. Brown let Tashiba in.

The front room was taken over by a flurry of movement. The police barged in with guns drawn. They were barking orders to both women, with most of their attention on the younger woman. Within moments, Tashiba was placed in handcuffs.

While one of the officers took her to the police car, another stayed behind to give Mrs. Brown the bad news. Her son had been shot and killed. His body arrived at Darby Methodist hospital DOA.

***

Extra counselors had been contracted for the week, following the news of Roosevelt's death. The morning announcements were led by principal Otis, a man with a thin, frail voice. Grief made his tone softer than usual as he spoke over the P.A. system.

Mr. Otis shared the date of Roosevelt's viewing and funeral. Following the obituary, Julianna heard her name broadcast over the speakers. The principal had switched places with one of the secretaries. Mrs. Lamb called Julianna and a few other students to the office.

Julianna was excused from class and walked down to the principal’s office. There, she found Mr. Otis sitting at his desk. Opposite him was Roosevelt's mother. The other requested students showed up and they all sat in the office together. Mr. Otis introduced everyone, then Mrs. Brown began to speak.

"Roosevelt was my only child, my baby."

Julianna began to tear up.

"He loved everyone and didn't know a stranger. He was a big teddy bear. People on the street knew that about him. A couple of times gangs tried to recruit him, but he would turn them down. A few drug dealers wanted to hire him as a bodyguard. He turned them down too. I know this because my son and I talked about everything."

Mr. Otis grabbed for the tissue box on his desk. One after another, he and everyone in the room pulled out one of the thin sheets and dried their faces.

"Roosevelt told me about his school friends too. He told me about each of you here in this room. He told me how unique and special each of you were to him. "

The three students looked at each other in surprise.

"Zach, he told me you were the first person to greet him when he transferred in last year. He told me you have been very helpful with him adapting to the new environment. Thank you"

The fair-skinned Zach sat in silence as the woman praised him for his kindness toward her son.

"Samayra, you convinced my son to talk to the school counselor when he was going through his dark period. That really made a difference in his life. Thank you."

Dark period? Was Roosevelt depressed? He didn't seem like the type that would be suffering from any kind of mental instability. He was always so upbeat, happy, and flirtatious. Obviously, Samayra was aware of something that Julianna hadn’t noticed.

"You're welcome", Samayra sobbed. She grabbed for more tissue on Mr. Otis's desk.

"Mrs. Brown was quiet for a moment while she waited for the low moan of wailing and nose blowing to stop. When it did, she turned her body towards Julianna."

"Julianna." She paused again, smiling at the girl beside her.

What could she possibly have to thank me for? Julianna wondered.

"Julianna, I don't know if you're aware of this, but you were my son's muse. His source of inspiration."

"Inspiration?" Julianna raised her eyebrows.

"My son was very artistic. I know he did a lot of verbal expression at school, but at home, he was a painter. He used to paint some very dark and disturbing imagery. I didn't like it, but I didn't want to discourage him. I would ask him about what all the violent-looking images meant to him. He would shrug and just say 'life'. As long as it was helping him cope with whatever turmoil he had going on inside, I didn’t try to stop him. "

Julianna shook her head. She didn't know he painted.

"About a year ago his paintings began to take a different direction. The colors became brighter. The imagery was softer. Some of it was abstract, but some of it reflected his enjoyment of his new school life."

Mr. Otis nodded his head in some kind of unspoken understanding with Mrs. Brown.

"When I asked Roosevelt about what inspired him to change up his art style, he mentioned your name. He told me that you were his good friend, confidant, and muse. He said you were one of the few people he could really express himself with verbally."

Zach and Samyra looked at each other wide-eyed. Everyone in the school had heard Roosevelt serenade Julianna at least once. Some people laughed. Some people said it was cute.

"I know that he liked you and that you probably didn't feel the same way about him. But I can tell that you were kind to him. If you weren’t, it would have shown in his behavior in a huge way. Roosevelt was a very sensitive person, who took a lot of things to heart. Whatever you felt, or didn’t feel for my son, you kept his dignity in mind. Now, I'd like to ask you a favor. I'll understand if you say 'no'. But if you accept my request, it will mean a lot to me."

Julianna’s voice cracked. "Me? You want me to do something for you? What is it?"

"Could you say a few words about my son at the memorial service?"

A eulogy. The mother of the boy who had been infatuated with her wanted her to perform a eulogy. Julianna sat, stunned. The unexpected request was a little weird. Or was it? She couldn't think of a reason not to do it. She remained quiet, still numb from hearing the news.

“If Julianna declines, I’m hoping one of you would do it?” Mrs. Brown addressed Zach and Samayra.

“I’ll do it,” Julianna said.

"Thank you, Julianna. Roosevelt would have been honored to know that a good friend like you was speaking on his behalf.

The meeting concluded. Julianna and Mrs. Brown exchanged phone numbers. The viewing of the body would take place in four days at the local funeral home. That's where Julianna and a few others would be giving a short speech.

Days later, Julianna stood at a podium facing visitors in the viewing room of the funeral home. She gripped the wooden sides nervously while looking over the room of people. Roosevelt's body lay a few feet away in a mahogany casket. Today was Julianna’s first time seeing a dead body.

She trembled in fear, worried more about sounding stupid than about the corpse resting behind her. She began her speech:

"Speak now, lest your lips remain parched for moist words."

Someone in the audience shifted in their seat. Another person stared awkwardly at Jullianna. Maybe she shouldn't have started her eulogy with these words? How did Roosevelt do it so confidently? She continued.

These are the words of a good friend of mine, who now lies here in this casket. He was always using such eloquent methods to communicate. I didn't understand half of what Roosevelt Brown said to me, but when he did speak, it sounded nice. He had the talent to make the most mundane sentence sound profound. A lot of his words for me were of the romantic sort. They were words of unrequited love. Words that fell on deaf ears.

Julianna got choked up at this last sentence.

No matter how little appreciation I had for his charming chatter he wouldn't give up. No matter how much I criticized his smooth soliloquies, he would come back the next day with fresh fanfare.  He wasn't discouraged by my lack of validation. He didn't turn his defeat into scorn. It’s quite easy for guys, and girls to turn their crush on a person into cruelty when the feeling isn't mutual. But not Roosevelt. He was a gentleman. His mama raised him right."

Mrs. Brown lifted a handkerchief to her wet eyes.

On the streets, Big Ro was the strong, silent type. He was respected by most and respectful to all. He will be missed by me and many other students from Seymour High and remembered as a good person who used a lot of good words. The world needs more of that. A world lacking the moisture of good words is at risk of becoming a place too parched to grow good relations. I wish I had used more of my words to grow a better friendship with Roosevelt. Thank you, Ro, for speaking kindly to me and showing me the beauty of your words.