I See You

by Charlotte Armstrong

  Six weeks later the Judge made his good-mornings to the six people in his chambers. He was about to hear it, after all. Pearl City was a small city. The Judge knew almost everyone in it, at least by reputation. But this never had and would not now prevent him from discharging his duty as he should. He said, “Mr. Fairlee, you are counsel for Mrs. Huston?”

  “I am, your honor,” said Fairlee, the lawyer.

  “Mr. Mark Huston, you are your own counsel?”

  “If your honor pleases.”

  The young husband was in cold control of his voice, his eyes, his body. The young wife sat between her father and her mother and did not look up. The Judge thought, as he so often did, that there had been a divorce between these two long, long ago. They had gathered now only for him to decide upon what basis the law was going to confirm the existing fact. He tilted his great leather chair slightly. “In this preliminary hearing we must examine the grounds of Mrs. Huston’s suit. Mr. Fairlee?”

  “Extreme cruelty.”

  John Martinelli said, “With your indulgence, I would like to describe a certain incident to which I was a witness, as was my wife and also Mr. Charles Huston.”

  The Judge nodded indulgence. He had learned, long ago, how to listen with one ear. Besides, he had been there himself. He watched this man’s face, the fierce pride in it, he recognized the arrogant manner that John Martinelli had worn even in his schooldays.

  Let’s see, mused the Judge, John was two years behind me. He must be at least three years younger than Alicia … It’s been a good match. Teresa is … let’s see … twenty-five. Her wedding was in June, four years ago. Not a good match, perhaps. He mused upon the Hustons. Charles, in his thirties, was “new” by Pearl City reckoning, but he had done very well in the bank. Was tactful, well-mannered, and accepted. His younger brother had been half-accepted for his sake, when the lad had first come here, fresh from law school. Then, of course, having married Teresa Martinelli, Mark had been someone.

  But the Judge knew that Mark Huston had not proved to be the kind of young man who had married well, and then climbed smoothly along an ascending path. His struggle to “get started” in the law had been punctuated by certain outbursts and commotions. He was a tense young man, with startling cheekbones; it was said that he had a temper; it was said that he could be eloquent in a rather astonishing way. He was either old-fashioned or very new-fashioned. A genius or a fool, and so difficult to tell which at his age. An interesting young man. But now, of course, finished.

  It might be that he had kept Teresa too long in that first cheap little apartment, after what she had been used to in her father’s house. There was too the tragic loss of their baby, last April. An incident not well-understood. Whatever it was, the Judge had very little hope for this marriage. He thought it was finished.

  “… spoke to Teresa. He asked her how she had been.” John Martinelli had come to the climax of his story. “She gave him a civil answer. She said ‘Just fine’ or something of the sort. And then”—John Martinelli’s voice began to shake—“then he slapped her in her face. And no man slaps my daughter.…”

  The Judge’s hand had been making notes, without his particular attention. Now he said, with a calm flavor of reason covering human curiosity, “What happened after that?”

  The two young men stared at the bookcase. The young wife kept her head down. The father bridled. The mother cocked her head. Fairlee cleared his throat. John Martinelli said, “Mr. Jasper very kindly allowed my wife to rest a moment in his office. Then we went out to our car. Mark Huston was out there and he apologized, in one sentence. Nothing more was said. He left. We left. My daughter was given great pain and humiliation.”

  But had not gone to Reno, thought the Judge. He glanced at Teresa. She was wearing black-and-white, and a small hat with a little veil of heavy mesh that fell over her eyes. She sat despondently between her father and her mother. The Judge did not permit himself an audible sigh.

  He turned his chair slightly. “Mr. Huston?”

  Mark Huston said, “I have no defense. I should not have slapped her. I apologized. I have nothing more to say.”

  The Judge thought, Oh, yes, they bring these matters to court when they have already been settled, and not before. It was finished. Nevertheless, he had his duty. He said, “Mr. Charles Huston? Have you anything to add?”

  Charles Huston said, “I am here to be with my brother. I am very sorry for it all. Nothing to add.”

  Oh, tactful young man, thought the Judge, here for the sake of his blood but very carefully so. The Judge felt an impulse to push at this delicately balanced position. “You were a witness to this incident?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “You agree that Mr. Martinelli has stated exactly what happened?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you know why your brother did what he did?”

  “No, sir,” said Charles stolidly. And do not care, his manner said, because he was a fool and he is finished.

  The Judge gnawed on his lower lip. Oh, why prolong this dreary formality? Committed to justice based on truth, the Judge knew and none better how elusive was the truth. But for a young man to commit social and economic suicide in the middle of the cocktail lounge of the Pearl City Club was a very strange action for an ambitious and intelligent young man to take. The Judge knew how many doors had closed in Mark Huston’s face since that evening. He knew that wherever the lad might go, now, this blot would haunt his record. He knew the lad must have been suffering. But he asked, sternly, as was his duty, “Why did you do it, Mr. Huston?”

  “For no valid reason,” said the young husband. “There is no excuse.”

  “I see that you’ve got a retrial of the Haskell Case,” said the Judge suddenly.

  “Yes, your honor. As soon as that is concluded, I’ll be leaving Pearl City.”

  “I see.” Quixotic, thought the Judge. Stubborn. Fighting. But not fighting this. Still, she could have gone to Reno. He could have left town. Why didn’t they? Not that he saw any hope. These two had been asunder long before the incident at the Club which was nothing but a symptom. However, dutifully, the Judge turned and said, “Mrs. Huston?”

  The girl said, “There is nothing I can say.”

  To himself, the Judge humphed. Teresa Martinelli who had had “everything” all her life, money beauty brains and personality, sat much too limp in that chair.

  Then the mother said, “Your honor, I would like to correct one thing in my husband’s statement.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Martinelli?”

  “The word my daughter used.”

  “The word?” Ah, she was a charming lady, Alicia. The Judge smiled at her.

  “She did not say, ‘Just fine.’ She said only one word. She said the word, ‘Splendid.’”

  “I see. Mark Huston asked her how she had been. She answered with one word. Splendid.” The Judge scribbled. But he was lying low.

  “And I would like to point out to your honor,” she went on, “that there was a weight on the word.”

  Teresa said, full of life and fire, “It’s no use, Mother. None of them will listen. They are men.”

  John Martinelli said, “Alicia, I don’t know what you are trying to—”

  “Just a minute,” said the Judge, with quick authority. “Mrs. Martinelli, will you please—”

  “Speak with precision?” Alicia cut in. The Judge felt his heart stop and resume with a thud. “Yes, your honor, I will,” she said. “Teresa intended to wound and anger Mark as much as she could and she did it with great precision.”

  The Judge knew that his eyelids were fluttering. He calmed them and said to the girl, “Mrs. Huston, we are examining the grounds for your divorce. Is this pertinent?”

  “If I thought you would understand,” the girl said, “I would tell you how pertinent it is.”

  The Judge leaned forward. “I think you had better tell me.”

  Mark Huston said loudly, “I hit her. That’s that, isn�
��t it?”

  Teresa said, “You see, when Mark and I were married we were very much in love and we had a word—”

  Mark said, “This isn’t necessary and it can do no good. I hit her. I admit it. I announce it. Isn’t that enough?”

  The Judge said to him, with sweet authority, “I agree with you, Mr. Huston, that privacy would be desirable. So … Mr. and Mrs. Martinelli, Mr. Fairlee, and Mr. Charles Huston, will you all please step out into my anteroom?”

  “Will you hear me?” said Teresa breathlessly. She had been boneless. Now she was taut with life.

  “It is my duty to hear you, Mrs. Huston,” purred the Judge. “The rest of you, if you please …”

  Alicia rose and said, “Come, John” with surprising authority. John rose. Fairlee was already up. The Hustons both rose.

  “Mr. Mark Huston, sit down,” said the Judge severely.

  The others went through the door and Fairlee closed it.

  The Judge settled into the comfortable leather. “Now then, Mrs. Huston, I will hear you.”

  The young man sat down and stared at the bookcase, controlled to endure.

  Teresa said, “We were in love. There was a certain song. There was a certain sunset and … what happened afterwards.” Her voice was low. But the Judge’s ears were pricked up. Mark Huston sat like stone. “And the word we had,” she said, “was ‘splendid.’”

  The Judge said gently, “So that it was a key word for both of you? A private word, sanctified?”

  “Yes, sir.” She reached up and pushed the veil out of her eyes. Her eyes were so beautiful that the Judge was forced to swallow. “Sir, you know that Mark was what you would call struggling?”

  “I know,” said the Judge kindly.

  “We had a very small apartment and not very much … But you see, sir, my father has a good deal of money and he has always spoiled me. He likes to do it. He always has. But … Mark was embarrassed. He asked me not to take so many things from my father. I couldn’t see why I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t even listen to him. We … about six months after we were married, I think it was … we had a dreadful quarrel, about it and that is when I spoiled the word. I said, ‘Oh, you think it’s splendid to live like this.’ I said … other mean and selfish things.”

  “All right, Tessa,” snapped the young man. “Don’t wallow.”

  “You will hear me?” Teresa said to the Judge.

  “So that the sacred word was spoiled,” the Judge said calmly. “Yes, that happens.”

  “And doesn’t matter …” the young man said.

  “If you will be quiet …” the Judge said. “Go on.”

  “It mattered then,” Teresa said, “but not too much. We … got over that somehow. Then he took the Haskell case. Well, you know that he lost it.”

  The Judge nodded.

  “Nothing would do,” said Teresa, “but that he had to get a new trial for that miserable boy. We fought about that. I wanted him to drop the whole hopeless business. It wasn’t doing him a bit of good, I said. No profit and he was only heading for another failure. He said he was concerned. I said he ought to be concerned about his child. We were expecting a child, at that time.”

  “Yes,” the Judge said gently. The young man put one hand over his eyes, to endure. The Judge noted this with a glance and said to the girl, “I am listening.”

  “Mark said that he was concerned for his child because his child must have an honorable father. He said he had failed an innocent boy and he was going to redeem his failure. I said he was being ridiculous. We had a terrible fight. Well, your honor, sir … I have always been a brat. And Mark is not a placid soul, either. So, in April …”

  The young man took his hand down and was stiff against the chair back.

  “He was going to a meeting one night,” the girl said, speaking very fast. “It had to do with the case. He was going to make a kind of speech. It might help that boy’s prospects. My parents were out of town. I didn’t want to be alone. I begged … No …” She sat very straight, “I ordered him not to leave me. But he said that he would leave a phone number. I could call. And he went. Well, of course, I was so furious. I had always had, you see, just about everything I wanted. I don’t know whether anger like that can bring on labor. But I went into labor. But I would not phone him. I was too angry to do that. I called my doctor, who told me to come to the hospital. I called a taxi. The driver was … well, he was very worried about my state. So … there was a traffic accident. And … I lost the baby.”

  Now her head went down. “Which was my fault.”

  Her husband said, “I had left her when she asked me not to go. So you see that there are grounds. And that is enough.”

  The Judge thought, That was the First Act. Was it? He said aloud, “Is that enough, Teresa?”

  Teresa straightened. “No,” she said. “Not for me. When Mark got to me in the hospital, I was in pain, everything was so awful, there wasn’t any baby … He felt bad enough. But I said to him, ‘Of course you did make a splendid speech, darling.’”

  The Judge saw old pain on the young man’s face. He saw pain, old and new, on the girl’s face and in her eyes. He saw no hope for this marriage. Too much pain had been given and received. But he said, “Then, afterwards?”

  “Oh my father,” she said, “came rushing back and made a fuss, of course. Special nurses, everything under the sun. Nothing would do but that I come home and be petted. It sounded sensible. That wasn’t why I went. My father bought everything … everything in the world you would think I’d need. My mother and I pretended that it was only temporary and only sensible, until I was strong again. The truth was, Mark didn’t want me back. He said nothing at all. So there I stayed. How could I go back? I didn’t know how I could,” said Teresa. “I had never been taught … don’t you see?”

  If the Judge saw, he said nothing. “So that night at the Club,” she went on, holding her head high in humility, “do you see how I, without cause, hit him with a word? A weapon so heavy … a word with such a terrible weight on it … that he had to slap me? He could no more help slapping me than he could help blinking his eye.” Teresa’s beautiful eyes were filled with tears.

  Mark said, “But I ought to have helped it. Since I, at least, knew better. She never has understood these things, your honor. She never had learned, that’s true. Even now, she doesn’t see that I ought to have helped it.”

  “Oh yes, you ought to have helped it,” the Judge said. “I agree.”

  Mark said, “Thank you.”

  Teresa said, “But that Mark should lose his place, here, and hurt his career and have the whole town talking … when it was I who hit him. What can I do?”

  “Nothing,” Mark said, quietly. “Nothing. Let it go.”

  The Judge said, “I take it that you would agree, Teresa, to this. If a divorce were to be granted in this case on the grounds of extremely cruelty, the cruelty was yours?”

  “Yes, I would agree to that,” she said fervently. “I would think that very fair. I wish that everyone in town could know it.”

  “They won’t,” said Mark angrily. “You’re getting this divorce.”

  Teresa said sadly, “That’s the convention.”

  Mark looked at the books and said on the burst of a sigh, “Well, is that all?”

  The Judge said mildly, “How should I know whether that is all or what else there may be between you?”

  Mark turned his head sharply. “What changed you? That’s what I’d like to know. What could have changed you?”

  “When I couldn’t make my father listen to what I’d done,” Teresa said. “When he simply wouldn’t hear. When I see how he insists that I can do no wrong because I am his daughter. It isn’t true. Don’t you think I know what I said to you? If I hadn’t known and if you hadn’t known that I knew … then nothing …” Her throat closed.

  In a moment the young man said quietly, “What does this mood mean against your whole life? Don’t you think I know how your mind wor
ks?”

  The girl neither moved nor spoke. The Judge said, “Have you thought of this, Mark? What if her heart is broken?”

  “Oh, Tessa,” Mark cried, “we can never …”

  “I know,” she said, quietly. “It’s too late. Why do you think my heart is broken?” The room was very still.

  The Judge got out of his big chair. “I think this hearing stands recessed. Sine die.” Neither of them paid him any attention, as he left them.

  In the anteroom he said, “This hearing is postponed, indefinitely. No hurry, is there? Will you not,” he said to all the faces, “agree that such destruction should not be lightly or ignorantly undertaken?”

  Alicia Martinelli gave him one lightning look and dropped her eyelids. John Martinelli said, “How can she? How can they? I don’t know …”

  “It is not for you to know,” said the Judge kindly, “or me. Or Pearl City. It is for them to know. Let them alone.”

  Charles Huston made flustered farewells. Fairlee, the lawyer, turned to go and John Martinelli must confer with him for a moment.

  So the Judge looked down at Alicia.

  “Is it too late for them, David?” she asked.

  “I do not know. I cannot tell. Young hearts do break.”

  Alicia smiled. “Young hearts do mend, sometimes.”

  “I am glad if that is so,” the Judge said.

  “That is so.”

  John Martinelli returned to them. “Come along, darling.” He looked at the Judge, cocky little man, a bit bewildered. “I suppose I should thank you.”

  “Yes, I … rather think you should,” said the Judge as if he were thinking of something else. “Good day.”

  Alone in his anteroom, the Judge mused. He could see the terrace of the Pearl City Club, before it had been remodeled. He could see the young girl with the moon on her face and hear her crying, “Don’t you care if you break my heart?”

  And he could hear himself, young man in a passion of ambition, saying, “Alicia, I have so much to do, so many years … The only honest thing I can say to you is please don’t wait.” And that ignorant young man in his callow prime had added, “As for a broken heart, that’s a silly sentimental phrase of no precision whatsoever.”