As it turned out, there was no improvement. Ian was months away from visits in the courtyard, if he stayed in that institution at all. There was always Folsom or San Quentin to worry about now. Anything was possible. And for the time being they were faced once again with more visits through a glass window, talking over a phone. Jessica felt a surging desire to smash the receiver through the window as she tried to smile into his face. She longed for the touch of his face, the feel of his arms, the smell of his hair. And instead all she had in her hands was a blue plastic phone. Next to her there was a pink one, and further down a yellow. Someone with a sense of humor had installed pastel-colored princess-style phones all the way down the line. Like a nursery, with a glass window. And you could talk to the darling babies on the phone. What she needed was her husband, not a phone pal.
But he looked better—thinner, but at least clean. He had even shaved in the hope of a visit. They fell into some of their old jokes, and Astrid shared the phone with Jessica now and then. It was all so strange, sitting there, making conversation with a wall of glass between the two women and Ian. The strain told in his eyes, and the humor they inflicted on each other always had a bitter edge.
“This is quite a harem. For a rapist.” He grinned nervously at his own bad joke.
“Maybe they’ll think you’re a pimp.” Their laughter sounded like tinsel rustling.
The reality was that he was there. For at least a year. Jessie wondered how long she could take it. But maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe neither of them did. She wanted to talk to him about an appeal.
“Did you talk to Martin about it?”
“Yes. And there won’t be an appeal.” He answered her solemnly, but with certainty in his voice.
“What?” Jessie’s voice was suddenly shrill.
“You heard me. I know what I’m doing, Jess. Nothing would change next time around. Martin feels the same way. For another five or ten thousand bucks, we’d sink ourselves further into debt, and when the second trial rolled around, we’d have nothing different to say. The suspicions we have about her husband are inadmissible on the flimsy evidence we have. All we’ve got is an old photograph and a lot of fancy ideas. No one will testify. There’s nothing to hang our hats on except blind hope. We did that once, but we didn’t have any choice. We’re not going through that again. A new trial would come out the same goddam way, and it’ll just make these people mad. Martin thinks I’m better off living through this, just being a nice guy, and they’ll probably give me an early parole. Anyway, I’ve made my decision, and I’m right.”
“Who says you’re right, dammit, and why didn’t anyone ask me?”
“Because we’re talking about my time in here, not yours. It’s my decision.”
“But it affects my life too.” Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted an appeal, another chance, something, anything. She couldn’t accept just waiting around until he got paroled. There was talk of changing the California laws to bring in a determinate sentence, but who had time to wait for that? And even then, Martin had once said that Ian might have to do a couple of years. Two years? Jesus. How would she survive? She could barely speak as she held the phone in her hand.
“Jessie, trust me. It has to be this way. There’s no point.”
“We could sell something. The house. Anything.”
“And we might lose again. Then what? Let’s just grit our teeth and get through this. Please, Jessie—please, please try. I can’t do anything for you right now except love you. You’ve got to be strong. And it won’t be for long. It probably won’t be more than a year.” He tried to sound cheerful about it, for her sake.
“What if it’s more than a year?”
“We’ll worry about it then.” The tears spilled down her face in answer. How could they have decided this without talking to her? And why weren’t they willing to try again? Maybe they could win … maybe … she looked up to see Ian exchanging a look with Astrid and shaking his head. “Baby, you have to pull yourself together.”
“What for?”
“For me.”
“I’m okay.”
He shook his head and looked at her. “I wish to hell you were.” Thank God she had Astrid.
They talked on for a while, about the other men there, about some tests they’d put him through, about his hopes of being kept there rather than sent on to another prison. Vacaville at least seemed civilized, and he expected that he could work on his book after he’d been there for a while and had calmed down. Jessie told herself that it made her feel better to know that he was still interested in the book. At least he was still alive mentally, spiritually. But she found that she didn’t really care. What about her? After the outburst over the appeal, she felt even lonelier. She tried to pump life into her smile, but it hurt so much not to be able to reach out to him or be held in his arms.
He watched her face for a long moment and wished only that he could touch her. Even he didn’t have enough words anymore, and too often they fell silent.
“How’s the shop?”
“Okay. Great, really. Business is booming.” But it was a lie. Business was far from booming. It was the worst it had been in all the years since she’d opened Lady J. But what could she tell him, what was there to say without voicing agonizing recriminations, and accusations, and cries of outrage and despair? What was left? There was always the truth that business was lousy and he should have been home working to help pay the bills … the truth that he shouldn’t be in prison … the truth that he looked terrible and his haircut made him look old and tired … the truth that she even worried now that he’d become a homosexual in jail—or worse, that someone would kill him … the truth that she didn’t know how to pay the bills anymore and was afraid that she couldn’t survive the nights alone … the truth that she wanted to die …the truth that he never should have balled Margaret Burton … the truth that he was a sonofabitch and she was beginning to hate him because he wasn’t there anymore … he was gone. But she couldn’t tell him the truth. There was too much of it now, and she knew it would kill him.
He was talking again; she had to look up and focus her attention.
“Jess, I want you to do something for me when you get home today. Get the book Xeroxed, put the copy in the bank, and send me the original. I’m getting special permission to work on it, and by the time the manuscript gets here, I’ll have the paperwork squared away at this end. Don’t forget, though. Try and get it out to me today.” There was summer in his eyes again as he spoke, but Astrid wondered at the look on Jessica’s face. Jessie was stunned. He had just been sentenced to prison and he was worried about his book?
The visit was called to a close after little more than an hour. There was a frantic flurry of good-byes on the phone, cheery farewells from Astrid, a few last verbal hugs from Ian, and a moment of panic that Jessie thought would close her throat. She couldn’t even kiss him good-bye. But what if she needed to hold him? Didn’t they understand that all she had in the world was Ian? What if …
She watched him walk away slowly, reluctant to leave, but a big boyish smile hung on his face, while she tried to smile too. But she was running on an empty tank now, and secretly she was glad the visit was over. It cost her more each time she saw him now. It was even harder here than it had been in county jail. She wanted to throw a fist through the glass, to scream, to … anything, but she gave him a last smile, and numbly followed Astrid back to the car.
“Do you have any more of those magical little pills, fairy godmother?”
“No, I don’t. I didn’t bring them.” Astrid said nothing more, but touched her arm gently and gave her a hug before unlocking the car. There was nothing more she could say. And she left Jessie the dignity of not seeing her tears as they drove home in silence, the radio purring softly between them.
“Want me to drop you off at home, so you can relax for a while?” She smiled as they came to a stop on Broadway where the freeway poured them back into the city traffic. Two blocks later they
drove past Enrico’s.
“Nope. And that’s where it all began.”
“What?” Astrid hadn’t noticed, and she turned to see Jessie staring at the tables clustered on the sidewalk under the heaters. It was cold now, but a few hardy souls still sat outside.
“Enrico’s. That’s where he met her. I wonder what she’s doing now.” There was a haunted look on Jessica’s face, and she spoke almost dreamily.
“Jessie, don’t think of that.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no point now. It’s over. Now you have to look ahead to the other end. You just have to trot on through the tunnel, and before you know it …”
“Oh, bullshit! You make it sound like a fairy tale, for Chrissake. Just what do you think it feels like to look at your husband through a glass window, not to be able to touch him, or … oh, God. I’m sorry. I just can’t stand it, Astrid. I can’t accept it, I don’t want this happening to my life, I don’t want to be alone. I need him.” She ended softly, with tears thick in her throat.
“And you still have him. In all the ways that matter. Okay, so he’s behind a window, but he won’t be there forever. What do you suppose it felt like when I looked down at Tom in that stinking box? He would never talk to me again, hold me again, need me again, love me again. Ever, Jessie. Ever. With you and Ian, it’s only an intermission. The only thing you don’t have is his presence in the house every night. You have all the rest.”
But that was what she needed. His presence. What “rest” was there? She couldn’t remember anymore. Was there a “rest”? Had there ever been?
“And you’ve got to stop taking those pills, Jessie.” Astrid’s tone brought her back again. They were a few blocks from her house now.
“Why? They don’t do any harm. They just… they just help, that’s all.”
“They won’t in a while. They’ll just depress you more, if they aren’t doing that already. And if you don’t watch out you’ll get so dependent on them that you’ll have a real problem. I did, and it was a bitch to get rid of. I spent weeks down at Mother’s ranch trying to ‘kick,’ as it were. Do yourself a big favor—give ’em up now.” Jessie brushed off the suggestion and pulled a comb out of her bag.
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll just go straight to the shop.”
“Why don’t you at least go home for five minutes to unwind first? How would that be?” Lousy. Painful.
“Okay. If you’ll come in for coffee.” She didn’t want to be alone there. “I have to pick up Ian’s book and get it Xeroxed for him. He wants to start working again.” Astrid noticed the strained tone in her voice. Could she be jealous? It seemed almost impossible. But these days, anything was possible with Jessie.
“At least they’ll let him work on the book.”
“Apparently.” Jessie shrugged as Astrid pulled into the driveway.
“It’ll do him good.”
Jessie shrugged again and got out.
There was a look of slight disorder in the front hall, of jackets and coats tried on and discarded before her visit to Ian that morning. Astrid noticed Ian’s coats crammed to one side of the closet and the now predominantly female clutter here and there. He had only been gone for five weeks, yet it was beginning to look like a woman’s house. She wondered if Jessie had noticed the change.
“Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, thanks.” Astrid smiled and settled into a chair to look at the view. “Want any help?” Jessica shook her head and Astrid tried to relax. It was difficult to be with Jessica now. There was obviously so much pain, and so little one could do to help. Except be there. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
Jessica appeared with two flowered cups and laughed hollowly. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll hang myself this year instead of a stocking.”
“Jessica, that’s not funny.”
“Is anything anymore?”
Astrid sighed deeply and set down the cup Jessie had given her.
“Jessie, you have to stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Somehow, somewhere, you’re going to have to find something to hang on to. For your own sake, not just for his. The shop, a group of people, me, a church, whatever it is you need, but you just have to grab on to something. You can’t live like this. Not only will your marriage not survive, but, much worse, you won’t.” That was what had been frightening Ian: Astrid knew that. Once or twice he had looked at her, and she had understood.
“This isn’t forever, you know. You’ll get back what you had before. It isn’t over.”
“Isn’t it? How do you know that? I don’t even know that. I don’t even know at this point what the hell we had, or if it’s worth wanting back.” She was shocked at her own words but she couldn’t stop herself now. She gripped her shaking hands together. “What did we have? Me supporting Ian, and him hating me for it, so much that he had to go out and screw a bunch of other women to feel like a man. Pretty portrait of a marriage, isn’t it, Astrid? Just what every little girl dreams of.”
“Is that how you feel about it now?” Astrid watched the hurt on Jessica’s face and her heart went out to her. “From what I’ve seen, there’s a lot more to your marriage than that.” They had looked so young and so happy when she’d met them, but she realized now that there was a lot she didn’t know. There had to be. She met Jessica’s eyes now and ached for her. Jessica had a lot to find out in the next months.
“I don’t know, Astrid. I feel as though I did everything wrong before, and I want to make it right now. But it’s too late. He’s gone. And I don’t care what you say, it feels in my gut like he’s never coming home again. I play games with myself, I listen for his footsteps, I wander around his studio—and then we go up and see him there, like an ape in a cage. Astrid, he’s my husband, and they have him locked up like an animal!” Tears and confusion flooded her eyes.
“Is that what really bothers you, Jessie?”
She looked irate at the question. “Of course it is! What do you think?”
“I think that bothers you, but I think other things bother you just as much. I think you’re afraid everything will change. He’ll change. He wants his book now, and that frightens you.”
“It does not frighten me. It annoys me.” At least that was honest. She had admitted it.
“Why does it annoy you?”
“Because I sit here by myself, going crazy, dealing with reality, and what does he want to do? Doodle around on his book, like nothing ever happened. And … oh … I don’t know, Astrid, it’s so complicated. I don’t understand anything anymore. It’s all making me crazy. I can’t take it I just can’t take it.”
“You can take it, and so can Ian. You’ve already gone through the worst part. The trial must have been hell.” Jessie nodded soberly.
“Yeah, but this is worse. This goes on forever.”
“Of course not. And Jessie, you can take a lot more than you think. So can Ian.” As she said the words, she hoped she was right.
“How can you be so sure? Remember how he looked today, Astrid? How long do you think he can take all that? He’s spoiled, spoiled rotten, and used to a comfortable life with civilized people. Now he’s in there. We don’t see what it’s really like, but what do you think will happen when some guy pulls a knife on him, or some jerk wants to make love to him? Then what? Are you really sure he can handle it, Astrid?” Her voice was rising to an hysterical pitch. “And you know what the real joke of this whole mess is? That he’s in there because of me. Not because of Margaret Burton. Because of me. Because I castrated him so completely that he needed her to prove something. I did it. I might as well have put the handcuffs on him myself.”
The tragedy of it was that Astrid knew she believed that. She went to her and tried to put her arms around her as Jessica sobbed.
“Jessica, no … no, baby. You know …”
“I know. It’s true! I know it. And he knows it. And the fucking woman even knew it. You should have seen how she looked at me in court. God knows what he told her. B
ut I looked at her with hatred, and she looked at me with … pity. Dammit, Astrid, please give me some of those pills.” She looked up at Astrid with a ravaged face, but her friend shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? I need them.”
“You need to think right now. Clearly. Not in a fogged state. What you just told me is totally crazy, and a lot of what you’re thinking is probably pretty crazy. You might as well get it all straightened out in your head now, and have done with it. Pills won’t help.”
“They’ll get me through it.” She was begging now.
“No they won’t. You’ve lost all perspective about what happened, and they’ll only make it worse. And I can tell you one thing for sure. If you don’t straighten out your thinking now, it will only get worse, and you won’t have a marriage left when Ian comes out. You’ll eventually wind up hating him, maybe even as much as you hate yourself right now, if that’s possible. You owe yourself some serious thinking, Jessica.”
“So you’re going to see that I get it, is that it?” Jessica’s voice was bitter now.
“No, I can’t do that. I can’t force you to think. But I won’t give you anything to cloud your thinking anymore either. I can’t do that, Jessica. I just can’t.” Jessica felt an almost irresistible urge to stand up and hit her, and then she knew that she must be going crazy. Wanting to hit Astrid was very crazy. But also very real. She wanted those goddam pills.
“You’ll have to face it sooner or later anyway.” And then suddenly there were tears in Jessie’s eyes again.
“But what if I go crazy? I mean really crazy?”
“Why should you?”
“Because I can’t handle it. I just can’t handle it.”
Astrid felt out of her depth and wondered how her mother had stood her when she had been in similar shape after Tom’s death. It gave her an idea.
“Jessie, why don’t you come down to the ranch with me at Christmas? Mother would love it, and it would do you good.”
Jessica shook her head even before Astrid had finished her sentence.
Now and Forever Page 24