The Judge

THE JUDGE

was sitting in his chambers, at least that’s what this guy holding my arm who was probably some kind of cop said: “The Judge is waiting for you now in his chambers.” But was only an office except with lots of books. He was sitting behind this big desk, I mean it was a mother of a desk, with pictures of his family I guess, and so long he could sleep on it, more room than I’ve got in the cell, or at home either, but he didn’t even look like the kind to put his feet up on it, sitting back there in a fancy chair like the seats on the Plainfield buses, the new ones, looking me over.

“Here he is, Judge,” says the man on my arm. “I’ll be right outside if you want me.” But he’s talking to me, not the Judge who answers

“Thanks Bill”

and then we’re alone and he’s really giving me the eyeball. So I give it right back to him, which is what my brother showed me, and just when I’m ready to start shaking again it works and he comes on friendly, only like my brother warned it’s not true.

“Well Jesus, have a seat.” He tried to say it like we do, but they never can. I forget to move, so he hits me again with that smile he has on a switch. “Is that what they call you? Jesus?”

The second time was no better, so I tell him

“Joe”

and that’s a relief I guess, for he starts an almost true smile, then loses it in some papers on his desk which I realize soon are me.

“From these reports I’d say you really know how to make trouble for yourself,” he says.

From your voice I think you’ve decided I did whatever those papers say I did, I think. I think a lot. I don’t talk much, but I think a lot. Trouble is, I don’t think fast enough sometimes. Maybe he don’t either, for all the times he’s busy with this pipe action of his, stuffing and lighting and puffing, so that he never talks right away after me and his words come in bunches, like

“Suppose (stuff) Joe (stuff stuff stuff), you (tap) tell me (look) about yourself. Tell me (tap tap) about your family (look and blow). Tell me about this girl (light), Josita (Suck).”

What can you say to an order like that? Josi? I can’t even think about her here, I can’t. Me? Can I tell him how my clothes gotta feel, my jeans? About the red square on the empty billboard every morning before school? How can I tell him about that? And my family? Mom? My father? My brother?

“I have a brother.”

“I already know all about him,” he says, and how can he, and maybe he does, since he was busted, but he never told me about this judge here. “Tell me about Josita. When did you meet her? Were you… ahh, you know, good friends?”

Well I don’t say anything to that, I can’t, which is saying a lot and more than I meant, so he asks me some more questions, like did we sleep together and what was she like, only he never says her name right, and I figure he means did we fuck, of course everybody sleeps together just to keep warm and because we don’t have enough room. Maybe I’m answering him, with all those questions I can’t just stand there him even asking how often, but I think I do, for he gets up and comes around that big desk to me and puts his arm around me, squeezing a bit, on my shoulder and arm, but down my back too, me bug-eyed, him saying

“Joe, you can talk to me, you know. Don’t be afraid,” like I’m afraid, which I’m not, just I don’t know what to say. Then he starts to tell me a story, how when he’s a young lawyer (and I ain’t seen many but I’ve never seen a young lawyer, not young like my brother even, they’re all old men). Anyway, when he was a young lawyer he was all chickenshit to stand up in court to talk to the big judges, and that I believe, only he doesn’t say “chickenshit”, but that’s what it was, until one day a big judge puts his arm around him and walks him to a corner and tells him how he noticed him in court that morning, all itchy and stuttering and I guess I smiled but I wasn’t supposed to, because he stops and tells me how serious and important the whole situation was. Well when he gets back to the story, the big judge is explaining how all the big judges are like everybody else (only my brother says they never mean it when they give you that line), putting their pants on one leg at a time in the morning and other bullshit. When he was a young lawyer, says the big judge, some other big judge told him a trick. Whenever someone seems big and scary, like a judge, why you just think of him sitting on the toilet with his pants down around his shoes, maybe straining a bit. That’s what the big judge was told and what he told my judge, and here’s my judge telling me that’s what he uses all the time, everyday almost sometimes, and the time he shook the hand of the President of the United States at the Newark courthouse, and if it makes me feel better, why I was even free to think of him that way if I needed to.

“If I needed to what?” I ask.

“Think of me that way,” he answers.

“What way?” I ask and he gets a little red in the face but his arm is around my waist now.

“Like in the story, Joe, with my pants down.”

“Yeah. And maybe straining a bit. Maybe straining a lot, and stinking, the motherfucker. They’re all motherfuckers, but what could I do?

2.

THE JUDGE walked into the showroom to buy a new car the same day I was reading in the News about the trial of gang of kid revolutionaries where he was going to preside. I hadn’t seen him in years, since the times he came to speak to at the Elks when he was running for commissioner, back in the early fifties, about five years ago, when we still had commissioners, not the Mayor-Council setup we have now. He ran three times in a row and never got elected, but the last time he came close—he had the most votes of all the losers. I remember talking to him after his speech the second time, introducing myself, reminding him how our sisters went to school together, asking him stop in next time he bought a car.

“I always buy Pontiacs, Jim,” and I can still see him saying it, relieved that he had a reason for his patronage in that election year, “but I’ll see what you’ve got next time I’m in the market.” And you know what, he did. I had Chrysler-Plymouth then and he came by with his daughter.

“Hello, Judge. You come to look at a car?” He seemed pleased to be recognized, but I didn’t think he remembered me, so I told him: “Jim McNally. I tried to sell you a Chrysler some years back. How’s your daughter? Elaine, isn’t it?”

“Fine, Jim, fine. She’s getting married in two weeks.”

“Why, congratulations, Judge. Are you still driving those Pontiacs?”

I couldn’t really fault him for forgetting my name, even though I did feel sorry for him and voted for him the last time. He hadn’t seen me in a long while. It was easier to keep track of him, with his picture in all the papers a month ago when he was made a judge, and there was a small story in the Gazette when his father sold the store that made them all their money. Mom and Sis always used to buy all their clothes there, but Sis said his sisters wore things that never came out of that store. He’s got three sisters, all older, all fierce, all married to big deals except one who married a dentist, and she’s the fiercest. I guess I always felt sorry for him.

“Well, Jim, I was thinking of changing, so I thought I’d see what these Thunderbirds are like. Is it hard to get one?”

Is it hard to get one? And me with eight on the back lot and four more coming tomorrow? From the way he was looking and touching, I knew I had a live one. The question was, how many extras could I load onto him. Sometimes I wasn’t too sorry for him.

“They’re very popular cars these days, Judge, but I think could find one for you.”

I remembered a story I heard from Dave Forest once, about how he took an order for a Pontiac from the Judge way back just after the war when cars were scarce, and his sister, the dentist’s wife, came in a couple of days later. She told Dave she didn’t want her brother Harry to have to wait for his car, so he takes two bills from her and they cook up some bull about a cancellation and Harry’s war record, sacrificing his law practice to serve in the Coast Guard several days a week, and getting the car quick was a small thank you from those who had to stay behind. Dave said the Judge bought the whole bit, so I try out my own version.

“The boss always likes to see that the kind of people who are noticed are driving his cars.”

The Judge doesn’t answer that one, and I’m nervous that I’ve laid it on too thick, but he keeps examining the car. He’s very serious about the whole business. With the Chrysler he was like a kid, he got all excited about a car we had on the floor, a lemon yellow convertible with leather seats.

“I don’t want anything too flashy,” he says finally, and I see I’ve really got him.

“It’s not a flashy car, Judge, just a very, very solid machine.”

That day with the Chrysler, his girl was scrawny and shy and he was terribly proud to be out with her. When she let go of his hand to look at the car, he positively beamed. Soon he was reaching in, working the electric top up and down, feeling the leather.

“Why don’t you get inside and see how if feels,” I say, and he gets in the back seat. “Try it from the driver’s seat, Judge.”

“He eases himself into the front, me explaining how the tilt-away wheel works, and with the paunch he’s getting, he’ll need it.

“I’ll have to swim some extra laps at the A.C. to drive this car, Jim.”

He’s probably the kind of guy who does a few laps a month and wants to give you the impression he’s there every day. I like to keep my customers talking, so I ask

“You work out often, Judge?”

“I try, Jim, I try for a couple of days a week, but lately, since I’m sitting uptown it’s hard to get in. Those massages are great relaxers, though.”

“Here’s the easy way to give you more room, Judge,” and I move the electric seat I had forward when he was in the back. “See how simple that is with these bucket seats? Of course the car does come with a kind you might prefer more now, bench seats.” I wink and get a big laugh from him.

“Would you like to take it out for a drive?” I ask him, and that’s at ticklish question because when he took out the Chrysler demo those years ago, he hit and scratched up another car on our lot. But there was no stopping him that day. He and his daughter were talking about trips to the beach in the summer with the top down, and how bright and cheery the yellow would be in the winter. A car like that yellow convertible can change your whole life.

“No, Jim, I know how it rides. Judge Sampson drove my wife and me to Princeton to dinner with the Governor and the Chief Justice in one just like this. It really rides quietly.”

So I sold him the car, dark grey, power everything, with all the extras but air. I couldn’t talk him into the advanced climate control package, which was foolish on his part. I didn’t push it because I wanted to sign him up then and there. With the Chrysler he went home to talk it over with his family first, and I wasn’t worried for I figured I had at least him and the kid sold. But I lost it this time, he called back the next day and said it wasn’t practical enough. Sometimes people don’t want their life changed.

3.

“EVERYBODY, here’s my brother Harry, the Judge. Harry, you remember most everyone here. Of course you know Lois and Kal. And this is Joel Frisch and his wife Betty. Joel has the suite next to Sy’s at the Medical Towers. Joel and Betty, this is my brother Harry, and this is his wife Edna.”

Edna’s got her black crepe on again. Christ. With that mousey grey hair of hers, too. Why doesn’t she dye it? And that stiff-legged walk. I wonder if it’s because of her girdle. I keep meaning to watch her walk when she isn’t wearing it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without one. She surely doesn’t help him, looking like that. We women in the family have to help Harry. Now she’s telling Joel about her teeth. Christ.

“Harry, come over with me and talk to Kal. He was appointed an assistant United States District Attorney in the Southern District last week, you know.”

His arm feels good through mine, and he’s quite distinguished looking, my brother is.

“Yes, Ed told me you’d called with the news about Kal.”

Kal stood up as we approached. “Hello, Judge,” he said.

“Hello Kal. Congratulations on your appointment.”

“Thanks, Judge. And congratulations to you too. We haven’t seen you since you were elevated. And they’ve already got you on a big case.”

I like Kal. He seems so respectful to Harry.

“Kal, I was a little surprised at that myself, at first. Incidentally, the Governor himself spoke to me about the trial, rather frankly I might add. They seem to have a lot of confidence in me at the State House. But don’t let that go any further, we really shouldn’t discuss the trial.”

“Of course not, Judge.”

Kal reminds me of a bright student, all eager to learn from Harry.

“Ed and I appreciated your note, “ Harry went on. “She cut out the story on you in the Times last week for me to see. I didn’t realize you had been in the Coast Guard too.”

Ed, Ed, Ed. Why doesn’t he shut up about her. She’s got to be the worst lay this side of the Hudson. How much can Harry get off her, anyway?

“While you men are patting each other on the back, I’ll get some hors d’oeuvres. What would you like to drink, Harry, scotch?”

“Please Flo, with water.”

Harry, you ought to learn to drink your liquor straight, it’s got more class that way. There’s Joel breaking away from Ed’s teeth. He’s heading for the kitchen too. If no one else is there, he’ll try to grab my boobs. If he does, I’ll grab his cock. Except that’s not so great, tucked in their underwear, unless they got a hard-on. Shit, Sy’s got him. Probably talking golf. Or teeth. Joel’s got a great cock, too. Better than Sy’s, dammit. I was sure glad when he grabbed me that first time in his office. I wish Sy would get a chair like Joel’s and do me in it. I could get him to buy the chair, but he’d never screw in the office.

I’ll put a lot of ice and not much water in Harry’s scotch.

They are talking golf. Joel’s got nice teeth. Sharp. I’ll bet Harry would jump if I grabbed him. Haven’t been able to do that since he was little.

“Judge Sampson, who is, incidentally, a brilliant judge, and rather a nice guy, drove us down to dinner at the Governor’s in one and we liked it, thanks Flo, so I bought one.

“Bought what?” I asked, handing him the drink.

“A new car,” said Kal. “Tell her about the option you didn’t take, Judge.”

“You bought a new car? What kind, a Continental? Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking about buying a car? Joel’s brother sells them and could get you a deal.”

“A T-bird, Flo. I bought it from Jim McNally, who incidentally gave me what I think is a rather good deal. You went to high school with his sister, remember?”

Sy and Joel walked over for the cheese and onion squares I was holding, so I told them what Harry had done.

“Harry just bought a new car.”

“Great!” shouted Joel with his mouth full of cracker. “What did you get, a Continental?”

“No,” answered Harry, “a grey T-bird.”

“Really?”

Joel’s eyebrows went up and I could have kicked him for that , but he was right, Harry should have gotten a Continental.

“Which one is it” Joel asked, “a three-sixty or the four-ten?”

Harry took a big drink before the ice melted, and picked up a cheese square.

“Three-sixty or four-ten?” he repeated.

“You know, Judge, the engine size. Which engine did you get, the one with 360 cubic inches?” Joel is very knowledgeable about those things.

“The big one I think, Joel.”

“Well, that’s something. Those 410’s really move when you goose them. What did you get on it?”

Harry finally ate the cracker he had in his hand and then answered.

“Everything, it seems from the ticket. They’ve got some tricky gadgets now.”

“Not everything, Judge,” said Kal. “Tell them what you didn’t want.”

On those rare occasions when my brother is about to tell a joke, he gets a peculiar look on his face, a combination of show-off, ‘see me perform,’ and slyness, like ‘who’s watching, I’m going to fart.’ I recognized that look now, and twitched inside.

“Almost everything is standard on this model,” Harry began, “but I had a choice…”

“You got the advanced climate control, didn’t you?” interrupted Sy.

With his sinuses Sy always asks about air conditioning. I have to freeze at night so he can sleep. But he could at least let Harry finish his story.

“No, I didn’t, Sy. I don’t need it.”

“What?” said Joel, his mouth stuffed again with cheese, “you didn’t get the climate control? That was foolish, Harry.”

“Sometimes air conditioning gives Harry colds,” put in Ed, who had joined the circle.

That stopped Joel, and after another drink of scotch, Harry started his story once more.

“The car comes with a lot of extras, but I had to decide what kind of seats to have. I picked bucket seats, because as I told the salesman, I sit on the bench all day.”

Ed and Kal smiled, Sy groaned aloud and me silently. Bird-brained Betty, who had heard the whole story, asked Joel

“Is it a joke, honey?”

“Only among lawyers, baby. When are you taking delivery, Harry?”

“I drove it away. It’s parked outside now.”

“You didn’t buy a demo, did you?” Joel asked suspiciously.

“Not quite. They had set up this car with just about exactly what I wanted, and there were only a hundred miles on the speedometer.”

“The odometer,” corrected Joel.

“Whatever the dial is. Anyway, the mechanics worked on it while Jim and I handled the paperwork, and I drove it away. It has to go back on Monday for some adjustments, but it will be ready for us to take to the bar convention the next day.”

“Then let’s have a gander at it, Harry. Mind if I give it a test drive?”

Edna was upset, but Harry ignored her, thank goodness, and gave Joel the keys.

“Anyone else want to go for a spin?” invited Joel. “No? OK Judge, let’s try her out.”

“Now you take your ride, Joel, but leave my brother here. I want to talk to him.”

Actually, I love to drive with Joel when he goes fast, with one hand on the wheel and the other up my dress on my thigh. He knows how to excite me, Joel does. But I had to talk to Harry, so Joel persuaded Lois to go with him, found out where the car was parked, and went off. Ed was very nervous. Tough. Let her worry. I took Harry’s arm, I have to do that when I want to move him, and led him away.

“Come on, Judge, and spend some time with your sister.”

We walked toward my bedroom and I wondered for the millionth time what he’s like in the sack. God, I need it tonight.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Flo?

My brother knows me, he does.

“Well Harry, while we were going over the plans for the shower on Wednesday, Elaine told Robert that Jeffrey wasn’t going to law school next year, that he was talking about being a history teacher.”

“And Robert naturally told you all of this, Flo?”

“He is my son, Harry. You know Robert tells me everything.”

“Yes, but that’s Elly and Jeff’s business, not yours.”

“You can’t believe that, Harry. Jeff is going to marry Elaine, and that makes him family, and we know how we all feel about family matters. What do you intend to do?”

“I don’t know, Flo. I suppose if Jeff wants to be a history teacher…”

“You suppose? Harry, did you know about this?”

“Of course I did. Elaine told me a week ago that Jeff was, ahh, doubting his commitment to the law.”

“Not doubting, Harry, he’s not going to law school.”

I always know when Harry is covering up, and he was now. I hated to put it to him like that, but something had to be done, he didn’t want Elaine marrying a history teacher.

“You don’t want your daughter marrying a history teacher, do you?”

“He’s probably going to become a college professor, not just a history teacher. And hell, Flo, what’s wrong with being a history teacher. I’ve thought of teaching myself, when I retire.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a history teacher, dear. And I think it would be nice for you to teach at a university when you retire. But Elaine marrying an ordinary history teacher is something else.”

Harry was looking hurt and defensive, he was pouting.

“I don’t like it, Flo, but it might not be too bad.”

He was being stubborn too.

“Oh, Harry. It wouldn’t be right, you know the plans we’ve always had for our children. Now you’re getting all upset, your brows are wrinkled. Sit here on the bed and let me rub your neck the way you like, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, Flo, I’d like that…”

He sat on the corner of the bed and I stood close behind him and massaged his shoulders and neck, and we talked. We talked about his new suit and the case he was trying and he relaxed and he promised to speak to Elaine. After a while my fingers gave out, but I kept standing there with his back against me and my hands on his shoulders. Finally he got up. I straightened his tie, took his arm.

As we started up the hall into the living room, the front door popped open and Lois moved quickly, as if she were frightened, across our path without noticing us. When Joel appeared moments later, scowling, slamming the door, I felt my thighs tingle high and inside. I just knew he had tried to make her and got nothing. I could tease him tonight and get mine later, on Monday. Joel, you’re a fat-cocked bastard. I watched him go straight to the bar and have a shot before taking off his coat.

“It’s a three-sixty,” he said to no one in particular.

4.

“ELLY BABY, are you up?”

He knocked lightly on the door and called again.

“Elly, are you up yet?”

Yes Daddy, I’m awake and feeling my body where Jeffrey was touching it last night. I pulled the sheet up over my breasts and told him

“Yes Daddy, I’m awake.”

He came in immediately, fully dressed in one of his stuffy suits, kissed me on the cheek and sat down on my bed.

“Good morning, Elly dear.”

Daddy is very formal in the morning.

“Good morning, Daddy. Is it late?”

“When this family has to go somewhere together, Elly, it’s always late. But it’s not that late yet this morning. I just wanted to come in and talk to you a while, and I though you might be awake because of the heat.”

“It’s not too bad on this side of the house in the morning.”

“That’s true.”

“I miss this room when I’m at school.”

“But you had a nice room there, Elly, with that bay window.”

“Yes, I did, Daddy. It was good of you to let me have that room.”

“And this fall I’m sure you and Jeff will have a nice place.”

Daddy and I were making conversational progress at our usual rate, and this morning I’d rather think about last night.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Daddy?”

“Well, ah, for one thing, I wanted to ask your opinion about some things at the trial.”

Now that was something. Daddy talks a lot about his cases to Mother and me, but he never talks with us, at least he never asked my opinion before.

“Like what, Daddy?”

“Well, you know Elly, it’s a very important trial. When I had dinner at the Governor’s, and incidentally not every judge is invited to the Governor’s, the Chief Justice and the Attorney General talked to me about the case. It’s hard for me to believe, but as young as he is, Joe is one of the leaders of a very dangerous gang of Puerto Ricans that the A.G. would like to break up.”

“I thought his name is Jesus.”

“It is, Elly, only they pronounce it hay-zoo, and I just can’t bring myself to calling someone who did what he did by God’s name. Anyway, he said I could call him Joe, but his lawyer doesn’t like it.”

“Is he really guilty, Daddy?”

“The A.G. thinks so, the District Attorney’s office is sure of it, and I guess I think so too. By the way, Elly, this is a confidential conversation.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“Well, the Attorney General and the police want to use this conviction to break up the gang, so it’s important that I give him a good trial, with no opening for reversal. But there’s a lot I don’t understand.”

“Like what, Daddy?”

“For a starter, there’s Joe himself. He seems a fundamentally good person, he’s devoted to his family, especially his brother. He really seems to care about the people in his neighborhood too, the Puerto Ricans. Yet the A.G. tells me that he and his whole gang are communists. They don’t belong to the Communist Party, but they read Marx and Lenin, and Joe was even carrying a copy of a Chinese commie book, Quotations From Mao, when he was picked up.”

“I remember reading that in the papers.”

“What’s worse, Elly, is what that bunch of hoodlums was hoping to do. The Assistant A.G. showed me a transcript of a tape, I didn’t ask how he got it, of one of their meetings. That gang actually wants to change our whole system of government to something called a ‘people’s democratic dictatorship’. I just can’t reconcile all this with Joe.”

“Maybe Joe doesn’t believe that stuff, Daddy.”

“Oh, he does, alright. I’ve talked to him about it. And speaking of talking to him there’s something else I wanted to ask you. Joe uses a lot of slang that I don’t understand.”

And that’s what Daddy really wanted to talk to me about, I thought. He never likes to let people see his ignorance.

“What kind of slang, Daddy?”

“Well, two words he uses a lot are ‘dig’ and ‘rap’.”

“That’s easy, Daddy. To ‘dig’ something means to really like it, like I dig chocolate peppermint ice cream and Jane Austen. ‘Rap’ means to talk, to have a conversation. We’re rapping now, and I dig it.”

“We haven’t done it too often, have we, Elly?”

“I guess not, Daddy.”

“Perhaps it will be easier when you’re settled down with Jeff. Perhaps the three of us can have some good rappings, as you call it.”

Mom has told me, and many times I’ve felt how much my father wanted a son.

“The plural noun is ‘raps’, Dad.”

“Oh. Well, I’m looking forward to it. Maybe Jeff and I will be able to talk together. I’d like to take him down to the courthouse, show him around, perhaps even have him observe the trial for a while. It might make the law seem more real to him.”

Now Daddy was being his usual self. Mother always spouts off with the current party line, whatever Daddy has fed her, and lately she’s been going on about Jeffrey not being a lawyer. Aunt Flo even had her on the phone about it. I have to admit that I like to picture Jeffrey more as a lawyer than as a college professor. And if Daddy ever found out that Jeffrey was thinking of teaching in a slum school, wow!

“He might like it, Daddy.”

“Yes, the experience would be good for him, especially if I can arrange for him to talk to some of the other judges.”

Personally, I think Daddy’s legal friends are the kind of people that turned Jeffrey off to law. I keep thinking, we’ll get married next weekend and I’ll have a whole year before he graduates to work on him to change his mind about law school. A visit to Daddy’s courthouse could just make him more stubborn.

“Why don’t you talk to Jeff, Elly? See if he’d like to come down some day for a visit.”

“You could ask him yourself, Daddy.”

“Yes, I will. But he might be more receptive if you mentioned it too.”

When Daddy starts working on me that way, I     do   not   like   it. And I have a way of stopping it. I began playing with the sheet, then I casually pulled it tight across my chest so my breasts were outlined and my nipples stood up. Daddy immediately looked away.

“You know, Elly, as a lawyer Jeff could take over much of my old practice, and financially you two would be quite comfortable.”

I didn’t have to be told that. I was counting on it. As soon as Daddy looked back at me, I let my hands run over my body under the sheet. Daddy can’t stand any display of sexuality from me. He got up to leave.

“Anyway, Elly baby, see what you can do.”

“I’ll try, Daddy. Close the door behind you, will you please?”

“Of course, dear. And don’t be too long getting ready. We should leave for Atlantic City by eleven.”

“I won’t, Daddy.”

He left. I kept feeling my body, thinking of last night, of being on the beach with the sun on me, and I finished what Jeffrey had started last night.

5.

I HAD to wait awhile after the Judge—Harry likes me to refer to him that way—after Harry got up and dressed before I could get up myself, or he’d know I wasn’t sleeping. He hasn’t tried anything lately, though, and there was much to be done before we left for Atlantic City, so I was out of bed as soon as I heard him downstairs in the kitchen fixing his Sanka. Usually I don’t go downstairs until after he leaves but I like to be up and about when Mabel comes at nine. Today, with Jeffrey coming at 10:30 and all the packing, there just wasn’t time to stay in bed.

I put on my bathrobe and went to the attic and brought down four suitcases—the two two-suiters, the overnight case, and the train case—plus the Val-pak, and dumped them on the bed. Harry wanted a different suit for each of the three evenings, but he thought he could manage during the days with his new sport jackets. I decided that I had better pack to match his changes. The sport jackets, his blue suit and his tux filled the Val-pak, so his other suit and all my dresses had to be squeezed in the two-suiters. Luckily summer clothes are thin. I had two of the suitcases filled when I heard him coming back upstairs, so I ducked in the bathroom and started on my face…

He went into Elaine’s room…

I was still working on my face when he called from downstairs.

“Ed, do you want your eggs soft or medium?”

It was no use telling him I wasn’t ready for breakfast yet, so I said medium, which didn’t make any difference either, for when I walked into the kitchen, the uncooked eggs were still sitting on the counter, the water was boiling, and he was reading the paper and drinking Sanka, all as usual.

“Drop our eggs in and put up a pot of tea, English Breakfast I’d like, would you, Ed?” he said with only a quick look up from the paper to make sure it was me.

The morning seemed like a Saturday or Sunday, only it was Tuesday. I got out the butter, and bread for toast, and was squeezing his juice when Elaine came in, so I cut some more oranges and squeezed a big glass for her. She sat down in the breakfast nook across from her father and began the other section of the paper. When I put her juice down beside her, she said

“Could I have some eggs too, Mother? Scrambled, please.”

I almost told her she could make her own eggs, but then I thought, she’s not home much anymore, I can fix her breakfast for her today. She has to pack too, and be dressed before Jeffrey comes, and she takes so long to be ready. Then again, why should I wait on her? I’ve got lots to do also.

Before I could say anything to her, Harry was showing her an article he wanted her to read, something on the New York branch of the gang they had been talking about earlier. So that’s what they were up to this morning. I sort of though Harry was going to work on her about Jeff’s not going to law school. Ever since we came back from the party at Flo and Sy’s, he’s been after me to speak to her. I mentioned it a couple of times, that’s all. Elaine can manage for herself, Jeff’s not going to be able to walk over her the way Harry has pushed me around.

I had her eggs in the pan when Mabel came in through the front hall.

“Morning, Mrs. S. It’s hot one today.”

Then she saw Harry and Elaine in the nook.

“Oh. Good morning, Judge. Good morning, Elly. How come you’re not downtown already, Judge, running that trial and making all those headlines?”

Harry wants her to use the back porch door, but she doesn’t like to do the extra walking to come in that way. I’ll bet the empty garage fooled her. She’s not in trouble, though. She knows how to butter Harry up.

“Court’s in recess for the bar convention, Mabel,” he said.

“That’s right, you’re all off to Atlantic City today. I completely forgot. Mrs. S., you sit down with the Judge and I’ll finish cooking your eggs.”

“They’re not mine, Mabel, they’re for Elaine.”

“Well, sit down anyway and I’ll take of them. Elly, what are you doing, making your mother serve you breakfast?”

“Elaine was reading an article I wanted her to look at,” put in Harry.

Elaine, somewhat chagrined, turned the page over the comics I could see she had been reading, got up and took a plate from the cupboard, and went over to the stove where Mabel spooned out her eggs. I took a cup and slid in the side of the nook where she had been sitting, but next to the window.

“I guess that makes a difference,” said Mabel, which was as close as she would come to contradicting Harry to his face, but I loved her for what she did do. “Mrs. S., did you have your breakfast yet?”

“I’m just going to have a cup of tea and some coffee cake, Mabel.”

“Ed, if you keep eating cake in the morning, you’ll put on more weight.”

Harry likes me to make a good appearance when we go out, but it’s my body and he can’t touch it. I reached for the cake.

“Ed, you really shouldn’t. Some of your new clothes are tight on you already.”

I put back the cake.

“Alright, Harry, I’ll have some dry toast.”

I dropped a piece in the toaster on the nook table and felt the heat rise. Even after the toast popped, the nook was hot, and I realized how hot it was getting outside. What a day to have to drive to Atlantic City in a girdle.

Harry and Elaine were talking about those Puerto Ricans again. Once he saw that I was eating my toast, Harry ignored me and talked only to Elaine. She was ‘Really, Daddy? Yes, Daddy’-ing him along. I started to get a headache…

“Let me up, Elaine. I’ve got to finish packing.”

Harry didn’t even stop talking as I left.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs, Mrs. S.?”

“No, Mabel, you finish up down here.”

I needed to be alone. I began to worry that I wouldn’t get rid of this headache in the heat. I tried to move slowly and calmly, but by the time I had the bags packed, my headache was worse.

Beneath the window, I could see Harry and Jeff in the driveway, looking over the new car and talking to the mechanic who had just brought it back. The way Harry was caressing the trunk, I could picture him buggering that car in the gas tank.

My headache got better.

I loosened my girdle and tried for the third time to decide which dress to wear.

Elaine called from the lawn for me to come down and be in the pictures they were taking. My head started again.

“Say ‘cheese’, “ said Jeff, who still didn’t know what to call me. Elaine was on my left, wearing her new summer suit that we fought over. Harry was trying to take the three of us, but Jeff had to go out twice to help him focus the camera. I turned to Elaine, out of my belly but so shortly my child.

“That suit becomes you, dear.”

“Thank you, mother. I think we were right to spend the extra money.”

Harry was ready, so Jeff came back and stood on my right.

“You moved it, Daddy!”

We all agreed, and made him do it again. Then Harry wanted one of the four of us, so he called out Mabel and launched into a detailed explanation of how she should work the camera, even telling her not to be scared of it.

“Mr. S., I know how to work cameras like this.”

She was so miffed that she didn’t call him Judge. Inside me, I cheered, for she did know how. She had one picture taken and was lining up like a professional for a second when that car pulled in front of the house. It happened so fast that I’m still not sure what actually happened. I remember the package rolling across the lawn toward us, and Harry screaming, “It’s a bomb, it’s a bomb!” and his reaching around me to grab Elly, yes I remember that, he pulled Elaine by me and I guess they got behind the car, because that’s where he was when Mabel said

“It’s okay, folks, it’s only a brick with a note.”

As she calmly walked over and bent down to pick up the paper, I realized how tall she was, taller even than Jeff, who was now reminding me of his presence with a nervous laugh. I never realized that she was so tall.

“What does it say?” Jeff asked.

He had his giggle temporarily under control. Mabel read it to us.

“Jesus libre. Viva el socialismo.”

“What?”

Jeff didn’t understand it. Neither did I.

“That’s Spanish, silly,” said Elaine, who was brushing off her suit. “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, Mabel.”

I didn’t either. Mable shrugged.

“It means, ‘Free Jesus. Long live socialism’,” she translated for us.

I remembered her telling me about her Puerto Rican neighbors. Now Harry came out from behind the car, furious.

“Those bastards. Those bastard kids. Those punks. That could have been a bomb. Did anyone get their license plate? What if that had been a bomb? Mabel, did you see their license plates?”

“No, I didn’t, Mr. S.,” Mabel answered evenly.

“I thought she took their picture,” Jeff offered.

Harry spun on him.

“What do you mean, Jeff?”

“I saw her pointing the camera at them, and I thought she was taking their picture.”

Harry almost jumped at her.

“Did you, Mabel?”

“No, I didn’t, Mr. S.,”

“Damn it, Mabel, why not?”

Harry looked so petulant and upset, like a spoiled kid who’s just been told ‘no’.

“I guess I don’t think as fast as you, Mr. S.”

I’m not sure Harry even heard her, for he jumped again.

“My God, the police! Somebody call the police. Ed, go call the police, get them here right away. Why is everything left up to me?”

From inside, as I dialed, I could still hear him shouting instructions and questions, and I could feel my girdle cutting into me. My headache was coming back, too.

It was going to be a long day, I thought then, and it was: the police, the convention, and even worse, the ride in the heat to Atlantic City. Elaine and I sat in the back with the windows up to save our hair. The sweat was running down me, inside my girdle. I was almost sick, and Harry was so impatient when we finally got him to stop at a Howard Johnson’s. Walking into the cool hotel was a relief despite all those lawyers, and I said “Harry, our next car really must have climate control and an air conditioner.”

But he went off without answering to talk to some men he recognized. I’m not even sure he heard me.

[Editor’s note: Their next car did have climate control and an air conditioner.]

6.

THE JUDGE asked me to take a walk with him. We’re all staying at the Hotel Pierre in New York, where Elaine and I will be married tomorrow. Going outside past the doormen parking the cars and hauling the luggage of people just arriving, I recalled the scene earlier in the afternoon, our own arrival. The Judge had walked imperiously around his new car, supervising.

“Be sure to tell the bellhop that this bag is part of Judge Sheldon’s party too,” he said, pointing to my old suitcase as if they didn’t know their business and since they knew their business, from then on they called him Judge. He asked who was in charge, and gave that guy what I’m pretty sure was a five-dollar bill, acting like it was a hundred. The doormen fawned all over him and the Judge ate it up, the pompous ass. Now, as we leave for our walk, a different crew is on duty and no one recognizes us.

“I wanted to have talk with you, Jeff. Man to man.”

We’re on the corner of 54^th Street, waiting for the light to change. As we step off the curb, he farts, loud, I’m sure it was him, no one else is near us, but he gives no sign, no notice. He begins to tell me of Elly’s appendicitis operation, when she was twelve. Should I say I’ve already seen the scar? It was more than appendicitis, he continues. Her appendix was so inflamed that the surgeon was forced to cut away some of her insides. She probably can’t have children.

“I never told Elaine because I didn’t want to worry her. You can’t tell her either. Promise me.”

What could I say? I promised him. He didn’t tell her, but he told me, he told me the night before we were married, when it was too late to back out. Can you beat that? Can you beat that?

7.

“JUDGE, I came to Newark because I wanted to talk to you about the Santos case before you handed down your decision.”

He was my Chief Justice, his court would eventually have to hear any appeal, I knew of his friendship with Attorney General Herman, who wanted a conviction badly before the next election, and yet, to actually discuss the case with me…

“As you’ve probably guessed,” he went on, “we had you picked for this case even before you were confirmed. Herman figured that being the kind of person you are, and being new to the bench, you would be a tough nut for the defense.”

“Well sir, it did cross my mind.”

“Hell, Harry. Cut out that ‘sir’ shit. We had you investigated so thoroughly I know you better than I know my wife. And with me sitting here like this, talking to you like this, you can see I’m not someone who keeps his privates private. So feel easy. Be friendly. Call me Sam.”

To be truthful, he didn’t seem so formidable sitting there on the toilet with his pants down by his ankles, with his right hand scratching his testicles. Incidentally, he has a rather small penis.

“Harry, when do you think you’ll be able to bring in a verdict?”

We were walking through the shower room into the locker area.

“By the first of next week, Sam.”

“Good, good. Is there any doubt in your mind that the kid is guilty?”

He had his towel and swimsuit in his left hand, his other arm around my shoulder, persuasive.

“Joe is deeply involved with the gang, Sam. Of that I’m convinced. But I don’t think he’s guilty of the charges in the indictment.”

Suddenly Sam was looking through me, toward the end of the row of lockers. I twisted and saw the locker room attendant, a Puerto Rican, staring at us. The Chief Justice’s arm dropped from my body, slowly. At the other end of the row were several more Hispanics, also watching us. One of them was pointing at the Chief Justice’s penis and he said something in Spanish. The rest laughed, then they were all serious again.

I began to sweat. We dressed, fast, with them still watching us, from both ends, at least ten of them. When we tried to walk out, they stayed there blocking our way.

“You know what this is for?” said one directly in front of me.

Dark and intensely handsome, he was holding a short length of pipe, they kind they put dynamite in to make a bomb.

“It’s a bomb, it’s a bomb!” I yelled.

As if on impulse, he threw it down the row of lockers behind us. I jumped as it banged and clattered and rolled to a stop past our towels. More laughter. It was only a piece of pipe. The Chief Justice scowled at me.

“Are you going to leave your towels on the floor for Felipe to pick up, mister?”

The pipe thrower was speaking now to the Chief Justice, but I answered for him.

“Oh, no. We wouldn’t do that. We were just in a hurry and forgot. I’ll get them, I’m on my way.”

I turned back for the towels, bend down to pick them up, and found myself looking at the feet of a group who had moved in from the far end. I stood up carefully and walked over to the Chief Justice.

“Excuse us, boys, will you?” he asked.

They didn’t move. He tried again.

“Look, fellows, we’re late to lunch. Move over and let us through.”

They continued to stand silently around us for another minute. I was really sweating. Then someone near me said “Basta.” In seconds they were all gone.

“See, Harry,” the Chief Justice said to me as we walked up the stairs, “you’ve got to be firm with them. Now how about some lunch while we talk about that verdict? And Harry, we don’t need those towels any more.”

He gave a snorting laugh as I realized that I was still carrying the towels. I stuffed them quickly around the handrail, thinking how he would tell this story back at the capitol. The Attorney General has a snorting laugh, too.

“My new car is in a lot right around the corner, Sam. We could drive crosstown to The Pub.”

“You got a new car, Harry? What did you buy, a Continental?”

I told him it was a T-Bird.

“Oh. Old maid Sampson has one of those too, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does, Sam.”

I was ready to trade in the car that afternoon.

“Look, Harry, let’s use mine. It should be parked out front and besides, there is a surprise in it for you.”

His car was right at the curb, a dark green chauffeur-driven Continental. Sitting in the back seat was Elaine. He motioned for me to take the passenger seat up front. Before I even had my door shut, he was in the back kissing Elaine, his free hand on her breast, her thigh, then back to her breast, pushing hard. Her hands were around his head, pulling him to her, her legs open slightly. I started to shiver. The car was air conditioned, of course.

When they stopped kissing, she leaned around the panting Chief Justice and said to me, brightly, “Hi Daddy.”

“Elly! What are you doing?”

“You can see what I’m doing, Daddy. When Jeffrey told me what you told him, that I couldn’t have children, I decided to at least have some fun. Then Sammy here—“ she playfully grabbed at his crotch, and he turned and leered at me “—came by with his offer, it sounded good, so I accepted.”

“What offer?”

“Why Daddy, you know, Sammy says he’ll make Jeffrey his clerk when Jeffrey gets out of law school, he’ll watch over you and get you promoted if you act right, and in the meantime Sammy and I will, you know, have fun. I’m doing it for you, Da…”

But Sam didn’t let her finish, he was all over her again. Her arms were around his back this time. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. After a few seconds, while one hand still hugged the Chief Justice, she disengaged the other and waved ‘hello’ to me. Then she turned her hand over and started to wave ‘come here’. Tentatively I reached my hand between the two front seats toward her. Her fingers brushed my sleeve, she found my hand and brought it to her leg, she rubbed my hand up and down her thigh. The Chief Justice was still kissing and feeling her, oblivious of what we were doing. I turned toward the rear of the car, kneeling in my seat so that I could reach more of her. I saw the chauffeur was reading a book, ignoring us. I could feel my penis get big, I could feel it pressing against my pants and the seat back. How could that chauffeur just read with all this happening? I looked at him, found him looking at me. He put his hand on my leg and smiled.

It was Joe.

I woke up, still excited.

Ed had her back to me, pretending to be asleep. I can always tell by her breathing when she’s faking. I was really aroused, so I tried again, stroking her side. As usual, she soon moved further away, still doing her sleep act. Screw you, I thought. And who would want to screw you anyway, except me when I’m so horny. Some day I ought to jerk off right in her face. Except that she never lets me get going. “You’re not going to practice your filthy sex habits in my bed” was what she screamed at me once. It’s a way to get her up, but definitely not worth the yelling.

So I got up, put on my bathrobe and walked to the bathroom. For a while I studied my face in the mirror, cleaning the sleep-sand from the corners of my eyes.

What a dream! Recalling it made me shiver.

The sight of the shower curtain in the mirror caught my attention. There was a time when I tried to masturbate in that shower, but I quit trying. I could never make it standing up like that.

I wandered into Elly’s room. By now she and Jeff were in San Francisco. Sitting on her bed, I considered the possibility of moving into her room. Lying on her bed, I wondered whether I was right telling Jeff when I did. If I had said something sooner, he might not have married her. And she wanted him, damn it. She’s got my sex drive, not her mother’s, that’s for sure. The day we left for the bar convention, I could see her feeling herself right in this bed.

Pulling the quilt from the foot of the bed over me, I began to touch myself, thinking of Elly.

“Harry. Harry!”

Ed was calling me from our bedroom.

“Pick up the phone, it’s for you.”

I took it downstairs, cursing all the way to the study. It was my sergeant-at-arms with a tip from Trenton. The Attorney General himself would be in court today at the prosecution’s table. Bill was loyal and I thanked him.

“Just thought you’d want to know early, Judge.”

“Right, Bill, right. I appreciate it.”

Shit. The last thing I needed was Herman in court, putting on the pressure. In the shower, still frustrated, I forced my mind to the trial. My verdict in the dream was ‘not guilty’. Did I really think that? Could I afford to think that? Why the defense asked for a bench trial, I still couldn’t decide. Now all the pressure was on me.

By the time I went downstairs for breakfast, I had pretty much made up my mind. The habit of breakfast alone, including the Sanka, went all the way back to my Coast Guard days, when I also had tough decisions to make. I used to spend a good deal of time on that boat. Walking the deck, I enjoyed a sense of command, even on weekdays when the crew as gone and we were tied at the pier. Except for a few meetings when I was running for commissioner, I hadn’t felt that command power until I was raised to the bench. Of course I knew the crew made fun of me occasionally. They called me ‘Harbor Harry, the Defender of the Dock” behind my back because I didn’t take the boat out much. They never realized what an expensive piece of equipment it was, how important it was not to risk damaging it. But I got back at them.

And I’ll get back at those punks who threw the brick at me. Joe is part of that gang, and they’ve got to be taught a lesson. I don’t need Herman to show me how to do it either.

I put on my cord sport jacket that I bought at Brooks Brothers—incidentally there’s a place I like to shop at, a real man’s store—and my Panama skimmer and walked out to the car. She seems rather hard starting in hot weather. I might as well spend a little more and get something reliable, like a Continental.

Yes, we’re going to have to make an example of Joe. Too bad, but at least it will improve his attitude. If his friends complain, so what? Herman will support me, so will any respectable man once he knows the facts, anyone who’s responsible. And why not? After all, aren’t I the Judge?