“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Ah, of course, never give the opponent a point, right? I tell you, sir, that’s the only way to look at it. You can, in all good conscience, report that since I answered the question in expectation of appointment, I do not possess the necessary integrity to perform the job. If you did that, do you know what would happen?”
“I think I do,” Green said, trying to keep the sudden irritation out of his voice.
“No, you don’t, not if you’re becoming angry about it. The gentlemen who sent you, the President included, are politicians, not civics teachers. They’d laugh at your naivete.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Pentecost sighed. “You know, you look like me. We are the same age. I suspect we even think alike. That’s why I’m speaking to you quite openly, something I usually tend to avoid. But you’re an intelligent man, and I know this is a high stakes game, at least it is for me. I want that damn job very much. Sure, I’d like to be in a position where I could tell you to go take a jump, to protest the impertinence and impropriety of your questions. But if I did that, your people wouldn’t take me for a man of integrity, they’d take me for an imbecile. Look at it from my point of view. If there was a good and valid reason for me to go the other way on the Electoral College case, if it was truly against my conscience, I would tell you so, believe me. But what’s really at stake in that case? It’s a mere political question. No one will be denied due process, no fundamental rights will be destroyed. So as worldly gentlemen, in good conscience, you can ask it and I can answer it. Had that occurred to you?”
Green looked at Pentecost. The blandness had gone. There was real animation in his face now, a hard-eyed salesman moving in to close a deal.
“When I came to this law school, the most powerful man in the legislature, then and now, was State Senator Jacob Rock.” Pentecost turned and gestured toward the law school building, jutting above all its neighbors. “You know how I got what I wanted? A knowledge of human nature, that’s how. Jacob Rock is a wealthy man, a millionaire several times over. Self-made in every way. He had only an eighth-grade education. Now I suspected he just might be touchy about that. I gently raised it with him and he was painfully defensive. To make a long story short, I arranged for him to take certain tests in general subjects and political science here at the university. I had to twist a few arms but Senator Rock is now a graduate of this university. All quite aboveboard and legal. He’s well read and he easily passed all the exams. And getting him that degree is the thing that got me the funds for an A-1 the law school. He was grateful, and you’ve seen the result.”
“What are you getting at?”
“A bribe.”
“Pardon me?”
“Oh, I could substitute a host of nicer words, but it would remain a bribe, nevertheless.”
Green stopped. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“A knowledge of human nature, just as with Senator Rock. The way I figure it, Jerry”—it was the first time he had used the name with ease—“you took that White House stint because you aren’t completely satisfied with your lot in life. It’s a guess, but I think maybe you aren’t so happy with good old Harley Dingell, or perhaps they aren’t happy with you. It happens. In any event, if you put in a good word for me, I’ll see you get that professorship in administrative law. You’ll take a hell of a cut in income, but we do pay better than all other American law schools, so you won’t live in poverty by any means. You’ll be away from the strife of Washington and back home. A nice happy lifetime job, no stress, no cares. As a bribe it really isn’t much, but it’s the only thing I can think to offer you.”
“You certainly throw words around loosely.”
“Or truthfully,” Pentecost snapped. “Don’t you think I could just as easily put my arm around your shoulders and tell you of the great need this school has for a man of your background and experience. I could do that, hell, I do that all the time. But you’re an intelligent man, you’d know that no matter how sugar-coated, it would still be a bribe. So what’s wrong with the truth?”
“Would you write your decisions in such a candid manner?”
The dean laughed. “No. Never. The truth is a very dangerous weapon and should be used most sparingly. I would follow the lead of my predecessors on the Supreme Court and take several pages to say in very long words what could easily be condensed into a sentence. I won’t embarrass the President or you, don’t worry.”
“Well, I suppose that’s it then,” Green said, stopping and turning. “I’ve made my improper inquiry, you’ve made your improper response, and thrown in a bribe to boot. I would guess we have gone as far as we can about the nation’s business. Shall we go back?”
The dean slapped him on the back. “When you walked into my office today I thought to myself that you were a man I could really talk to. What’s your decision?”
Green looked at the rising prow of the law school in the distance. “I’ll have to give it some thought. That doesn’t mean my report will be unfavorable. But it doesn’t mean it will be favorable either.”
The dean looked puzzled. “Is there something additional I can do for you?”
Green was about to answer no, then the germ of an idea popped into his mind.
“Maybe there is. Do you know much about the other cases coming before the Court?”
“Always be prepared, as the Boy Scouts say.”
“What would be your position on the Marchall case?”
Pentecost frowned. “The antitrust case? Is the President interested in that?”
“I suppose you might say he was pro business.” Green paused. “I’m informed Harley Dingell will offer the oral argument on behalf of Marchall.”
The dean smiled broadly. “Well now, I’m pro business myself. I rather think the Marchall company can count on my vote.”
Green nodded. “Out of curiosity, how would you go on the rational suicide issue?”
“Is the President interested in that?”
“Not that I know of,” Green replied.
“Well, I have no strong feelings one way or the other. What does the media call the nun involved, Sister Death? Well, we put animals out of their misery, I suppose we can extend the same courtesy to our fellow man on occasion. I would probably vote to acquit the nun.”
“And the affirmative action case, the one about the police department?”
“Again, just curiosity?” Pentecost asked.
“Yes.”
The dean walked along silently for a moment. “Again, I have no firm position. If I voted to continue the quota system what harm could it do? It would just make our black cities a bit blacker, right? It’s going to happen anyway. A vote in favor would look good to the liberals. Yes, I’d probably vote to maintain that hiring system.” He looked at Green. “Unless, of course, it would make a difference to the administration.”
“What about the freedom of the press issue. They have a case coming up about press negligence.…”
“Ah, I know all about that one.” Pentecost beamed. “Does the President have a position?”
“No.”
Pentecost chuckled. “Well, if I vote for the nun and against the police, the liberals would love me, of course. On that basis I’d have to vote to stick it to the media, so to speak, just to demonstrate that I was even-handed. That’s a decision that would please the conservatives. Actually, the press has too much power as it is.”
Green walked along without comment.
“Do those answers upset you?” Pentecost still had the confident half smile on his face.
“No.”
“Then I presume your report will be favorable.”
Green continued to walk, almost feeling the raw ambition radiating from the man next to him. “If I told you I honestly haven’t made up my mind, would you believe me?”
“Probably not. What else do you need?”
Green thought of Regina, of his own life. “I need s
ome time to think,” he answered honestly.
* * *
The dean returned to the law school and Green trudged on toward the center of the campus. Classes were changing and Green again had to weather the trampling herd of bundled students, all rushing, bumping, and converging like rapids in a turbulent river. He floated along with the sea of parkas and polas fleece jackets, without thought, just walking aimlessly.
He found himself in front of the School of Nursing. He stopped, half climbing up a mound of snow to escape the passing students.
He wondered if she was inside. It seemed he could almost project Regina’s soft features on the side of that building. He dwelled mentally on her large, loving eyes. It had been a very long time since he had a real relationship with anyone. He was no longer open or trusting. Everything in his life was at dagger point, emotions, thoughts, reactions—a constant barter and trade position. He longed to stand unarmed before someone, to feel secure against emotional or intellectual attack. Regina offered that. It wasn’t romance that he hungered for, it was the peace of emotional safety. He would have that here.
He surveyed the passing throng of students. Teaching law wouldn’t be unpleasant. There would be challenge. There was always that from the emerging abilities of the competitive minds found in any law school. But the challenges would be easily handled. They weren’t to be feared, they were to be enjoyed.
Green had always liked the campus as a boy, it still held a fascination for him. It was indeed home. Here he experienced a feeling of safe harbor.
The mass of students also thinned out as they found their destinations. He began to walk again, this time coming to the building that housed his brother’s office. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming need to see his brother and talk to him.
The eight-year difference in their ages had been more like an entire generation when they were young. They weren’t close. However, sometimes, especially when life seemed most perilous, he had sought out his older brother’s counsel. It had been given with a certain disdain, but given nevertheless—short, practical, and usually correct.
Green stepped up the walk into the Anthropology Building and climbed the stairs of his brother’s office. He tapped gently on the door.
A woman, who looked like a permanent employee, stopped. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Professor Green.”
“Oh, he’s at home today. A bit under the weather, I understand.”
“Thank you.”
There was a pay phone in the building’s lobby. He found Hank’s number and called. It was answered immediately by Adele.
“It’s me, Jerry,” he said. “Is Hank well enough to see me for a few minutes?”
“He just got up.” There was cold hostility in her voice, but he couldn’t determine whether it was directed at himself or Hank. “Just a minute,” she snapped. He could hear her yelling.
Another phone clicked into life. “Wha?”
“Hank?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s me, Jerry. Are you up to seeing me for a few minutes? Your office said you were ill.”
“Yeah. I’m hung over. Bad. This important?”
“It is to me.”
There was a pause. “Jesus, I feel like shit, but come ahead. At least it isn’t catching.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Green retraced his route to his car and drove quickly off the campus and up into the winding streets of his brother’s subdivision. The house looked different in the daylight.
Adele let him in, her face a stiff mask of resignation. “He’s in the family room,” she said, pointedly not offering to guide him.
He doffed his overcoat and boots. Adele had gone off somewhere else in the large house. He put the boots on a mat and hung up his hat and coat in the hall closet.
Hank lay in rumpled pajamas on a long sofa in the family room. There was a television but it wasn’t on. Jerry Green noticed a framed photograph of their father on the wall, along with pictures of Hank and Adele’s children in various stages of development.
Hank had a half-full cup on his chest, held in one huge hand. He was unshaven.
“Come in,” he said without opening his eyes. “I just look dead.”
Jerry Green sat down in a large chair facing the sofa. His brother raised his head and opened one eye. “Tied one on last night. No Goddamn reason. Adele was on my ass about something, but then she’s always on my ass about something. I really don’t mind the hangovers after I’ve had a real good time, sort of paying the piper. But Christ, when you just sit in your own house getting blitzed, it seems unfair to suffer like this.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. This is a Bloody Mary I’m drinking. My stomach isn’t rejecting it so it looks like I’ll make it. I may not want to, but it appears that way.” He opened the other eye, half raising his head. “If you want some coffee or anything, you’ll have to ask Adele. She isn’t talking to me.”
“I’m all set, thanks.”
“Well, Jerry, what’s your problem? You said it was important.” Hank raised his head and slurped at the cup. The tomato juice left a red ring along his upper lip.
Jerry Green wanted to pour out the whole story, his conflicting emotions and the conflicts of his life, but as he looked at his brother he could see that Hank was still slightly drunk. In his state, Hank’s advice would be a very weak reed to lean upon. Suddenly he felt very foolish.
“You might say it’s a personal problem.”
“Ah, trouble with your new old lady, eh?”
“That’s part of it.”
Hank slurped at his drink again. “Man, that’s part of any married man’s misery. But you won’t get much sympathy out of me. Christ, this is your second marriage. You’d think you would have learned from the first. At least I have that comfort. If I ever get divorced, or if the good Lord in his wisdom swoops down and deprives me of my wonderful Adele, I’ll have the good sense not to repeat the mistake. You should have thought of what you were doing. First times don’t count, anybody can make a mistake. It’s repeating it that’s stupid.”
“On that basis, there’s a lot of us stupid people around.”
“Oh sure, you can give me that old loneliness horseshit, everybody uses that one, but it’s just an excuse. Getting married again is the result of either lust or romance, usually a combination of both. It robs people of their intellect, their moral courage, their basic integrity, and their common sense.”
“You and Adele really must be having a swell time of it.”
His brother smirked. “Won’erful, just damn won’erful. See, I carp at you but I don’t have the courage to get out. Ya know why?” Hank was slurring his words.
Jerry Green shook his head.
“Because I’m afraid I’d do the same damn silly thing you did. Shit, some wide-hipped blonde with big blue eyes would make me think I was a young stud again. I know I’d fall for the whole bit: the romance, the sweet talk, the beautiful music that will go on forever. That’s a bunch of shit. The music and romance stops pretty damn quick. Nobody in the real world lives that way.” He sipped his drink. “At least Papa had the guts to stay out of it again after Ma died. That’s one thing that’s constant, at least to me. When I’m in trouble I always think of Pa and his courage.”
Jerry Green said nothing.
“We were blessed with a great father,” Hank continued. “I never really understood how much shit he had to eat as a professor. Christ, it must have been much worse for him, being Jewish.”
“You’re Jewish,” Green reminded his brother.
“I mean like it was in the old days. Hell, they called me the ‘Flying Hebe’ in high school, remember?”
“Sure.”
“Whoever thought that up meant the tag to hurt. But I turned it around on ’em. I adopted the thing, made it a gag, something to be proud of. It worked out pretty good. But those were different days.
“Being Jewish must have made
it tough for Papa.” Hank shook his head and laughed. “That’s all changed now. Crap, now half the faculty up here are into some weird religion or other, the other half are flaming atheists. You go to some of these faculty things and you meet everything from nudists to snake worshippers. Yeah, it’s a lot looser now.”
“You don’t sound as militant as you used to.”
Hank snorted as he slowly sat up. “I think my head’s going to explode.” He paused and blinked his eyes. “I’m okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “Yeah, I don’t give a shit about that ethnic crap anymore. Big deal. Those of my kids who do get married are going to marry shiksas anyway. We celebrate Christmas now, did you know that? And I mean the whole thing, the tree, Santa, outdoor lights, the works. One of these Decembers I expect Adele will put a stable scene out on the front lawn. If you’re looking for the headquarters of the Jewish Defense League, this ain’t it.”
Jerry Green thought back to another time.
Hank seemed to read his thoughts. He looked at him. “Hey, that thing when Pa died. I think we were both a couple of flaming assholes.”
Green knew that Hank was coming as close to an apology as he could expect.
“It was a bad time for both of us.”
Hank drained the rest of his drink. “See, I was in Europe. I was doing the whole Jewish bit, first Israel, then the European death camps. You ever see them?”
Jerry Green shook his head.
“Don’t. I still have nightmares. Anyway, they have carefully preserved all that shit, the barbed wire, the buildings, the showers, the ovens. We were in Munich when I got your call about Pa being dead.”
“I remember.”
“Yeah, well by the time we got back, everything was over. I expected that, given the religious thing. But I went nuts when you told me you had the old man cremated. It wasn’t you, you see, it was I had just come back from seeing those goddamned ovens. It was, well, it was like a horrible thing had been done to our own father.”
Green nodded. “If I had known your feelings, Hank, I wouldn’t have done it. Although Pa did leave instructions asking to be cremated.” Both statements were lies.
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