Christopher took another sip of beer. He found the whole notion of a conjugal visit distasteful, like the jurors were animals. Like the wives were mares in season, being brought to a stallion, coaxed into trailers for the trip to be covered. And the male jurors acted like animals all day the day of a conjugal visit. They didn't pay attention in court, shifting in their chairs and checking their watches. They reminded Christopher of stallions restless at the first hint of spring; throwing their heads back, prancing around the pasture. Even geldings got frisky come April and wouldn't stand still for shoeing.
Christopher rested the beer bottle on his thigh, making a wet ring on his heavyweight jeans. The TV came on in the next room, and a woman's laughter floated through the thin walls. Oh, man. Here we go again. It was Isaiah Fellers and his fiancee. Every conjugal visit for two months, Christopher would hear them talking and giggling, then the TV would blast and the headboard bang against the wall. The ruckus would rattle the flower picture over his bed, and Christopher would retreat to the bathroom to hide from the noise.
'Don't move!' a man in the dinosaur movie said through the wall. Then came the moaning of Isaiah's fiancee.
Christopher took another swig of beer and closed his eyes to the sounds. He thought love was better than that. He liked horses and their ways, but he wasn't an animal. Lainie never understood that. She used to whisper things in bed she thought would arouse him, but he wanted her to be above that. She was his wife. Then six months ago, Lainie had found another man and left the house. Didn't take anything, not even the curling iron she used on her bangs every day. He knew she'd come back someday, at least for the curling iron. She was real picky about her bangs.
'REEEAAAHHH!' somebody bellowed on the other side of the wall, and Christopher wasn't sure if it was the dinosaur or the woman until it ended in 'BBAAABBBEEE.' Christopher shook his head in wonder. No woman had ever made a sound like that with him. Either he hadn't been with enough women, or none had loved him that much.
Christopher thought of Mrs. Wahlbaum. She always smelled nice on visit day and seemed more alert. He'd met her husband, Abe, a tall, thin man with gray hair. Mrs. Wahlbaum held her husband's hand when she introduced him to Christopher; she was happy just to stand next to him. Christopher wondered if a woman would ever feel that way about him.
'RRRREEEHHHHHOOOO!' somebody shouted, and Christopher gave up trying to screen it out. He got up with his Rolling Rock, went into the bathroom, and flicked on the fan to mask the noise. The fan whirred to life, and Christopher sat on the tub's edge in the dark. He closed his eyes and soon Marta's face floated up to him out of the darkness. She was standing at his side, and Christopher imagined himself introducing her to someone, like Mrs. Wahlbaum did her husband. Marta's face would light up when she looked at him. Even her blue eyes would smile. It was plain to see that she adored him.
'RRRIING!' came a sound, barely audible over the whirring of the fan. Must be the movie. Christopher shook it off. 'RRRIIIINNNG!' it sounded again, and he realized it was the telephone. Who could be calling? He left the bathroom and hurried to the phone. 'Yup,' Christopher said into the pink receiver.
'This is the sheriff downstairs. Your wife is here to see you.'
Christopher was struck dumb Lainie? Why had she come? She'd never come before. Only one of two things Lainie could have wanted from him, since he didn't have the curling iron. Either she wanted to get back together or she wanted to get a divorce.
'Should I send her up?'
'No. I mean, sure. Thanks.'
Christopher hung up the phone and caught sight of himself in the mirror over the dresser. He didn't look surprised at all, he was good at not showing his feelings. Lainie used to complain about it, but there was nothing he could do. It was just the way Christopher was. It was his nature.
Christopher finger-combed his thick, dark hair with his fingers and checked his beard for crumbs. He smoothed down his flannel shirt and tucked it into his jeans. He didn't look half bad. He'd noticed one of the jurors, Megan, looking at him from time to time. He patted his stomach, still trim. Take it or leave it, Lainie. There was a knock at the door and he hustled to open it.
'Special delivery for Mr. Graham,' said the uniformed sheriff. He grinned as he stepped aside.
'Hi, honey,' said the woman standing there, who looked a lot like Lainie. She had hair like Lainie and clothes like Lainie, but she wasn't Lainie. 'It's been a while, Christopher,' the woman said softly.
Christopher looked at her eyes. They were clear blue and smiled up at him from the doorway. He'd know those eyes anywhere. 'It sure has,' he replied without hesitation.
'And away we go,' said the sheriff, who did a Jackie Gleason out the door and left Christopher alone.
With Marta.
22
The blizzard blew, but Judy stood on the snowy stoop and knocked on the door of a rundown brick rowhouse catty-corner to the Twenty-fifth Street Bridge. Judy knew somebody was home because she could hear voices inside, and light shone through a ripped paper shade. She craned her neck to peek though the tear and almost fell off the stoop. She knocked again. No answer.
Standing on the sidewalk, Mary spotted a moving shadow on the paper shade. 'Somebody's in there,' she said, from a snowdrift on the sidewalk.
'Hello?' Judy knocked again. 'Hello?'
The associates waited but nothing happened. Snow fell in gusts. The neighborhood was dark and quiet. Three houses so far, and no one was answering. The wind whistled down the street, buffeting Mary's face and sending frosty tendrils twirling toward her. Her cheeks were frozen and her nose leaked like a preschooler's. Her fingers were so numb she couldn't keep the poles and skis together.
Judy pounded on the door again. 'Hello? Please come to the door. It'll just take a minute.' Still no answer. She turned away and tramped down the steps. 'What do you think, Mare?'
'I think we keep at it.'
'Why won't they answer?'
'Because it's a snowstorm? Because it's late? Because you're a lawyer? I don't know for sure.'
