Julia

by Marty Sorensen

  *

  Hugh got out of the car at the Art Students League on West 57th, telling Timothy to wait for him. He went in under the blue canopy to the lobby. The absence of a receptionist frustrated him. A tall woman with messy long black hair looked at him, then away. He went to her and asked-he wasn’t sure how to phrase it-asked if she knew where he might find Julia Stuart.

  “Oh, Julia,” she said. “Most likely on the second floor. In the gallery. Everyone’s in there for Carlo De Luca’s exhibition.”

  Hugh’s stomach turned. An Italian name. There was only one Italian name that meant anything to him. He didn't remember what it was, but he remembered that he heard it from his wife. And he remembered that his mother told him it had something to do with Harlem. He went up the stairs prepared for a shock. He saw the door to the gallery and inside bright lights and white walls below semicircular windows and people who were obviously art students talking noisily, pointing, laughing.

  Julia was nowhere to be seen. The people who might have been Italian were too young. A young woman in dirty beige slacks approached him with a tray of wine. He waved her away with a sneer and kept on going, looking down each panel, not seeing any art, only possible targets of his search.

  He saw her. His heart beat faster. She was not alone. The man, the obvious the Italian man, was standing next to her gesturing toward some stupidly obscene abstract shit. That was the only word for it. And for the man. The man put his filthy arm on Julia's shoulder. She backed away and looked at the man in alarm. But Hugh knew better. Of course she would back away. This is a public event. Other eyes were on her. She had no choice but to make a show of rejection. This was not some place in private. This was not some apartment in the Village.

  Hugh turned and returned home. In his office he lit a cigar and stepped on a glass of brandy. He turned around to making a tour of the art in his room. He nodded in satisfaction. From his childhood appeared the memory of not being able to see the top of the desk and his father sitting in his chair, a cigar in his mouth, like a god.

  Then he went across the hallway to the library and stood before the painting of his father. He was grateful his mother wasn't there. But his father was always there. No, if his father was there he didn't care whether his mother was there. He looked his father in the eye and determined that he would wait for Julia.

  He took the cigar out of his mouth and walked down to Elizabeth's room. She was on the floor, Mary beside her. They both looked up at him. He went down on one knee and smiled at Elizabeth. "You know what, Darling, I heard today that your pony is getting closer. I have not forgotten that, no siree. It stuck in Pennsylvania, but it is coming. Now give me a hug."

  Elizabeth dropped her crayons and went to her daddy with a beaming face. "My pony."

  "Your pony, that's right." Hugh patted her on the head and went back to the library for his lonely vigil.

  As he waited he toured the room, noting the combination of pieces of art along the walls. Then he went to his office and made a similar tour. Back in the library, he sat in his red wingback chair, puffed his cigar and waited. Images from the Art Students League floated in his troubled consciousness and he fought them away with gestures. The phone rang in his office and he started to jump up but held himself back.

  The front door opened and he started to jump up again. He calmed himself down, breathing slowly and deeply. If Julia did not come in he would go find her.

  The library door opened, he turned, and faced his mother. Her face made clear that she understood his disappointment.

  "So she's not back," she said, shaking her head. "You did go over there didn't you?"

  Hugh stood and looked at her but spoke so his father would hear him. "Don't start with me. If you have any sense you go to your room."

  Grace stared at him with wide eyes but then she nodded and left the room, closing the door with as little noise as possible.

  The intrusion made to tire of waiting in the library. He went to his office and started to pick up the phone, not knowing who he was going to call, and then he put it down. He didn't want to be on the phone when she came. He picked up the fire marshal's report, open the folder, and then instead slammed it back down on the table. Cigar ashes followed. He blew them off the table. Turning, he went to the window and looked at the endless line of cabs in both directions on Park Avenue. One of them stopped in front of the house and he peered down on to the street. But could not see who was getting out of the cab. The front door opened again. He listened for the identifying sound of the footsteps. Julia's quick steps came up the stairs in a hurry.

  Of course, she was coming back from an exciting rendezvous with her lover. Hughes stomach burned. He intertwined his fingers and caused the knuckles turned white. He looked down at the floor ready to pounce on her with his stare when she entered the room.

  But naturally she did not. She was walking toward their room. He followed her.

  Inside she stopped removing her jacket, turned and smiled when she saw him. "Hello, Darling, I'm glad to see you. I'm glad actually that you came in here to see me. Don't you think we have to put all of this behind us and start over again?" Even as she spoke her voice changed from happy to fearful. His eyes were enraged. She folded her hands in front of her and looked down from him. She waited.

  "Where were you just now?"

  Julia frowned. "You know where I was."

  Hugh raised his eyebrows. "Oh, did you see me?"

  "See you? No. I was at the art students league and you never go there how can I see you? I didn't go anyplace else."

  "Well, I was there and I saw you." He pursed his mouth, then drew it in a straight line before he continued. "I saw you there with him and I saw him put his arm around you."

  Julia's eyes opened in disbelief. "You saw no such thing."

  Hughes voice rose in anger. "Don't lie to me. I was there. I saw it."

  She put her hand on her temples and shook her head. "There was nothing to see. I was not there with him or anyone else. I went by myself and saw the gallery by myself." She looked up at him. "You're making this up."

  "You're telling me he did not touch you at all?"

  The pleading in her eyes showed how much she felt caught. "Yes, he did put his arm on my shoulder once. But if you were there then you would have seen that I drew away and I left him standing there. It angered me."

  "Of course," he said, "that's what I expect from you. Denial. Naturally you could not be seen in public so you had to make a display of leaving him. But the real question is, why he felt free to touch you like that in public, Julia."

  She sat on the bed and turned to face him. "I can't control the actions of other people. The truth is, he's ugly and obnoxious. I left his painting class, and I have nothing to do with him. This was a public gallery. I had no choice but to walk away from him in that situation. Can't you understand this, Hugh?"

  Hugh stood with his hands on his hips. He looked down and then up. "I understand this, Julia - you cannot go there anymore."

  She stood up. "You don't tell me where I can and cannot go. "

  "I can and I do. You're not living alone, you have a husband and a daughter. You have obligations. You are skating on thin ice in this family and you have to change.”

  He stood facing her in silence.

  Then she said, her voice asking for understanding, "If you don't trust me, what am I supposed to do? I have nowhere to go. I have no life but my life with you and Elizabeth."

  "You know what, I can only trust you as far as I can see you. And right now that isn't very far. The only way you can convince me that you're not having an affair-an affair that would be devastating for this family and your child-is to give up going to that art league. You can study at home if you want."

  Julia sat on the bed and looked at the floor. She was thinking.

  Hugh moved to the door and opened it. He held his hand on it and said to her, "I see you don't want to commit to me." He looked down at his shoes and shuffled one foot and the
n looked up, "I don't pretend that your art is unimportant to you. Perhaps you can't make any immediate reply because you are stunned by my request. I can understand that. I am willing to give you time to get used to it."

  Julia remained silent on the bed, her hands folded neatly on her lap, looking somewhere in the corner.

  Hugh saw an opportunity to change the subject in a way that would help her come to an understanding of the problem they were facing. "Will you look at me please?"

  She turned and looked at him with eyes that disappointed because they showed no tears forming. He closed the door and sat on the other side of the bed.

  "You know Elizabeth is very hard to deal with."

  "She's a child."

  "That in itself is beside the point," he said. "She's uncontrollable, she gives Mother headaches."

  Julia looked at him in disbelief. "If your mother would ignore her and let Mary and myself take care of her, she wouldn't get any headaches."

  "She broke Mother's Oriental vase, and then she almost got herself killed running into the street after the pony."

  "Well perhaps you shouldn't have told her she was going to get a pony and then dumped the problem on the rest of us."

  "You can go on as long as you want, Julia, I am telling you there are problems at home and you are not here to attend to them."

  "So you want me to be her mother and nothing else in my life."

  "Listen to me, something has got to be done about Elizabeth behavior. I've talked to Mother about this, and we feel that it is in the child's interest to go away for a few days to calm down. To get out of the pressure cooker so to speak."

  "And just when were you going to tell me about this?"

  "I just did. You may think the timing was not very good, but in my view this is the perfect time to talk about it. Then you and I will have a few days to work out our relationship and the future."

  "You aren't giving me any say in this."

  "If you want a say in this, all you have to do is agree to it."

  Julia let her shoulders droop in resignation. "When do you want all this to happen?"

  "You can sever your relationship with the art students league over the phone. You can talk to Elizabeth about our plans. You and I can be together again, Julia. In a few days, when it’s all arranged. Mother will go with her, so that Elizabeth doesn’t feel alone."