Nothing but Blue Skies

51

Judge Elvin Blaylock, his T-shirt showing at the neck of his judicial robes, gazed for a moment at the accused, announced that he found him guilty of disturbing the peace and fined him one hundred dollars. The clerk of the court was the only one present, but nevertheless the judge was circumspect in asking Frank to come to his bench so that he might speak to him sotto voce. He said, “I would like to see you in my chambers.” He got up, declared that court was adjourned and exited through a door behind him. Frank waited for a moment and followed.

He closed the door behind him. Judge Blaylock was standing in boxer shorts and T-shirt. Frank asked, “Is that what you had on under the robe?”

“What’s it to you, big boy,” lisped the judge.

“Just asking.”

“Frank, asshole. May I call you asshole?”

“Another time, Elvin. I’m not strong just now.”

Blaylock came up close to Frank and cuffed him lightly in the head and then, seeming contrite, smoothed his hair back for him. “Frank, you and I have known each other all our lives. Your old man did pretty well. You and Mike got a little start. My old man ran a snow plow for the county when he wasn’t drunk. We had zip, okay? That’s why I worked to get where I am. It’s no big deal to anyone but me, okay? But you, Frank, you’re heading the other way. You just believe that anything you throw away you can always get again. I just want to be the one guy you know from way back to tell you that if that’s what you think, I want to wish you all the luck in the world. Kind of like, ‘So long, it’s been good to know you.’ ”

Frank rocked his head, exhibiting a cheery dismay at taking this in. Inside, he felt a chill.

“Edward, do you mind that I have called your house?” Frank had made himself hold off for one full day.

“Not at all, Frank.”

“I’ve got to ask Gracie one or two things. I —”

“Come on over! We’re just a hop, skip and a jump.”

Edward let him in the door, asking, “Shall I make myself scarce?” It was Sunday and church bells rang across the town.

“No need. I won’t be long.” This was so brittle that Frank could feel all his back muscles clenching. He noticed that Edward had a small ponytail held in place with a rubber band. Was that new?

“Tell you what,” Edward said, “I’ve got bromeliads to mist and this is a good time for it. Before I go, may I say in all sincerity that I am really looking forward to our meeting.”

“I thought I’d get into that with uh —”

“Gracie!” he boomed in high mellifluousness.

“Exactly.”

Gracie appeared in the doorway to a side room through which shone a subaqueous light. “Hi, Frank.” Both Edward and Lucy were present in this brief remark.

“Hello, Gracie.”

There was such deep-seated fraud in these plain greetings that Frank had an instant of looking forward to his part in the war on deception.

Edward seemed to take in this bracing moment of awkwardness before flailing his arms out in a gesture that declared he was leaving. “I don’t know about you guys,” he said, “but I wish things were more normal.”

Frank followed Gracie into a glassed-in room with a floor made of large slate flags, greenish in color. There was a row of potted plants, some in flower, some climbing like vines up the redwood lattice that had been provided for them. Here and there were white wicker chairs and chaise longues with striped canvas seat covers. It was a pleasant room that reminded Frank of what semi-lousy taste he and Gracie had. They weren’t quite the avocado Formica people who had increased so in numbers, but compared to homosexuals and Episcopalians, they were remarkably tasteless; or if in their life together they had ever had anything good, they failed to take care of it. It was a genuine case of not being very well bred. Fishing tackle in the living room, wet towels drying out on the handlebars of the stationary bicycle, sanitary napkins on an open shelf in the guest bathroom — Frank and Gracie had, at their best, strengths elsewhere.

Gracie stretched out on a chaise while Frank sat in an armchair that flexed under him as he sat. He scooted over a foot or so to get the tip of the Amazon pitcher plant out of his shirt collar. There was a hazy green glare from the windows, and when Frank looked off to his right, he could see the cool glow of the sun illuminating the yard.

“I’m glad you came over,” she said.

“I am too, though I feel a little awkward,” Frank said. She was wearing a man’s gray-striped dress shirt and jeans. He thought she was beautiful. He always thought she was beautiful, even when he was angry at her and discovering a surprisingly instantaneous hatred embedded in his love. Looking at her, he took account of his being in love with her and recognized that it was irrevocable; it had no negotiating value. In that sense, it may have been neither here nor there. Frank acknowledged that true love made people, if not autocratic, then cruel. It was the source of barbarism. People around those who were in love were innocent bystanders, combatants in the way of friendly fire.

“Holly came by,” she said. “She wanted to apologize. It didn’t turn out the way she’d planned. The whole thing made me feel horribly guilty and reminded me that we have an obligation to bring this whole business to a swift and clean end.”

“I’m not following.”

“Well, let me fill you in. Do you have any idea what Holly was doing with Lane Lawlor?”

“No.”

“Think about it. In your opinion, is he her type?”

“No.”

“But we never questioned it, did we?”

“Love is blind. Isn’t that our basic training? Aren’t we taught that we’re traitors if we don’t believe that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not true. It’s the opposite of blind.”

“I’m stuck. What’s she doing with him?”

“She wanted to cause a crisis,” Gracie said. “The crisis should have happened a long time ago. But she was forced to escalate it. Then she said it got out of control. She never thought you’d attack Lane Lawlor and start a riot. It was like pretending to drown in Utah all over again.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. What was the point of the crisis?”

Gracie looked at him. It amused her that he was so stupid. But this was too important to let her enjoy his stupidity. “The point of the crisis was to bring you and me together.”

“Oh.”

Frank’s heart ached. They were twisting their child. The self-hatred rose like a tide of sewage. He looked at Gracie. She seemed pathetic. He could barely speak. He managed a faint smile and he said with an aching throat, nodding madly all the while, “Our little kid,” causing tears to stream down both their faces. Frank could see no way out.