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The goddaughter

Kevin Statham

    As the casket was lowered into the ground, Julia felt her life changing. Harry had been a good husband, a partner, provider, friend, and her best confidant. Now he was gone, and half of her life was gone with him.
    The turnout was modest, mostly Harry’s co-workers and a few friends. All of Harry’s relatives were deceased, as well as Julia’s. Harry and Julia had no children, thus they were able to save a considerable sum of money. They planned to spend their savings traveling after Harry’s retirement.
    Harry and Julia didn’t attend church, so the pastor was provided by the funeral home. Julia couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying, but from what she did make out, it was a standard sermon. Harry deserved better, but she had been in such shock. She couldn’t make the plans herself, and relied on Herb, Harry’s friend from work. As the pastor droned on, Julia’s thoughts turned to her hands, which were numb from the cold.
    As the attendees slowly departed in two’s or threesomes, they stopped to express their sentiments. Herb took Julia’s hand and pressed it firmly.
    “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. If you’re afraid to stay in the house alone, you can sleep in our extra bedroom. Alice would be delighted to have you.”
    “Thank you. Thank you very much, but I’ll be fine.”
    “Harry loved you completely. That you can be sure of.”
    “I know,” Julia said, appearing a little perplexed.
    The last of the attendees departed, except for Mary, Julia’s best friend. Mary put her arm around Julia, gently trying to turn Julia away from the grave.
    “Twenty-seven years of marriage buried in a cold, dirty hole in the ground. It’s not fair, Mary. It just isn’t fair.”
    “I know. You’ve still got me, though. I’ll never leave you.”
    “You’re too good to me. Let’s go home and get something to eat.”
    Julia took one last look at the grave, wiped away a few tears, and stepped into the limousine.
    The house was quiet - disturbingly so. Normally, when Julia arrived home on a Sunday afternoon there would be the blare of the television beaming a football game or some sport into the living room. Now Julia could hear the tick of the grandfather clock, placing second after second between herself and Harry.
    “So what are your plans for tomorrow. You should try to keep occupied,” Mary said.
    “I’m going to take all of Harry’s belongings and box them up. I’m going to embrace everything that was his one last time, then store them away and get on with my life.
    “Good for you,“ Mary said. “Harry would have wanted that.”
    Mary began cleaning up the dishes, clanking pots and plates together.
    “Mary, you don’t have to do that. I’ll get it in a while. Sitting around here must be boring. Go home and watch T.V. or something. I’ll be all right.”
    “I’m going to stay here whether you like it or not. There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”
    “Okay. Do what you want. I’m blessed to have a friend like you.
    The next morning, Julia awoke at 5:00 a.m., made coffee, and began sorting through Harry’s personal items. She smiled when she saw the Stetson cowboy hat was so eager to purchase during the Urban Cowboy craze. He only wore it once or twice. Harry was too conservative for playing cowboy. There was also a Member’s Only jacket left over from the Eighties, complete with numerous snaps, zippers and straps. God, how cheesy. Harry thought he was so cool in it. Julia had to laugh.
    Then there were the more familiar items, the clothes Harry had worn often and had continued to wear throughout the years. Khaki pants, white Oxford shirts and boating shoes. These were the true Harry. Julia picked up a freshly worn Oxford from the laundry basket, held it up to her face and smelled it. “Oh God.” It smelled of Harry. It was like he was back in the room with her. Julia balled the shirt up into a makeshift pillow, lay down on the floor, and cried herself to sleep.
    At 7:00 Mary entered the room, finding Julia asleep. Mary shook her gently.
    “Julia, wake up. I made coffee.”
    Julia rubbed a knuckle into her groggy eye and sat up.
    “I found this shirt in the laundry basket. It still smells like Harry. Take a whiff.”
    “No, thanks. Listen, you’ve got to get rid of those sorts of things. You’re supposed to be moving on with your life.”
    “I am. He’s only been gone a couple of days. I think I have the right to grieve.”
    “Of course you do, and you should. I just don’t know if smelling his worn clothes is exactly healthy.”
    “Yeah. Anyway, I’m going to finish boxing up the rest of these clothes. I’m almost done. Did you see the cowboy hat?”
    “No. That’s Harry’s?”
    “Yeah. He only wore it once.”
    “Do you have any pictures?
    “Yeah, I think I do.
    “I’d like to see them. I bet they’re a scream.”
    “Hey, what the hell is this T-shirt?”
    “It looks Mexican.”
    “It’s got those little shaker things all over it.”
    “Maracas. Did you two go to Mexico on vacation or something?”
    “No. We’ve never been to Mexico. We don’t even know anybody who’s been to Mexico.”
    “That’s weird.”
    “Well, we’ll put this one in the unexplained pile. It’s strange. Goddamn it, I miss him already. I miss him so goddamn much. I always knew this day might come, but God, God it hurts so bad. I’ve never been so upset in my life. Goddamn it. God, God...”
    Mary walked up cautiously and wrapped a gentle arm around Julia’s shoulder. “I know, I know. It’s okay to cry. Get it out, you’ll feel better.”
    Mary and Julia sat embracing for fifteen minutes or so until Mary broke her hold. “Come on downstairs and I’ll make you breakfast.”
    After breakfast, Mary and Julia boxed up the last of the clothes in Harry’s closet.
    “Look at that empty closet, Julia. It’s not a void. It’s an opportunity. A space to be filled.”
    “Yeah, but with what?”
    “That will come in time.”
    “I just don’t know what to do with myself. I mean, am I supposed to sit around until opportunity knocks?”
    “No. You have to make opportunity, but not just yet. First you need to have some fun. Let’s go shopping.”
    “I don’t need anything.”
    “Let’s just shop shop. We’ll look at stuff we can’t afford and maybe buy some things we want but don’t need. Come on, you need to get out of this house for a while.”
    “Okay. Let me get my purse.”
    As Julia reached for her purse, the phone rang. Julia picked up the receiver.
    “Hello, Julia? This is Stephen Asbury, Harry’s lawyer.”
    “Oh, hi.”
    “How are you holding up?’
    “Okay, I guess.”
    “I just want to express my sympathy. Harry was more than just a client. I regarded him as a friend.”
    “He spoke very highly of you.”
    “That means a lot. I am also calling for business reasons. Harry left a will, and requested that it be read four days following his death. Can you make it to my office at noon tomorrow?
    “Yes, I guess so.”
    “Good. Take it easy, get plenty of rest and I’ll see you at lunchtime tomorrow.”
    Julia hung up the phone and wondered about the will. Who would Harry be leaving assets to besides her? He had no living relatives. Maybe he had designated some for charity, or for UVa, his alma mater. She would just have to wait and see.
    Normally, shopping was one of Julia’s favorite activities, but today, even the fanciest, most expensive items failed to capture her interest. She had been pestering Harry for a new, faster computer for months. Now there was no one to say no, but Julia had no more desire for one. Things just weren’t the same. At Computerland, Mary kept showing Julia the information tags on each computer display, pointing out the individual features of each unit. Julia glanced at the cards briefly then put them back. Mary picked up on Julia’s lack of enthusiasm. “It’s too soon for you, isn’t it?
    “Yeah. It is. I’m trying to enjoy myself, but I can’t. Sorry.’
    “Don’t be sorry. Let’s go.”
    Mary dropped Julia off then went home to do some housework. Julia watched television for a while when there was a knock at the door. She opened it up, revealing Herb, who was smiling and holding a baked ham.
    “Alice baked this for you. She figured it would last a while. You can slice it as you need it.”
    “Thank you, Herb. Tell Alice I appreciate it.”
    “So, what have you been doing with yourself?”
    “I’ve been packing up Harry’s belongings.”
    “I’ll tell you, the office is a bummer now. Harry was the only one who could tell a good joke.”
    “You know, I never once visited Harry at work. I’ve never even seen his office. Would you be willing to show me?”
    “Certainly. We’ll have to make it soon. Naturally they’ll be boxing up his belongings before too long.”
    “How about today?’
    “Today? Okay, why not?”
    As Julia followed Herb to the office, she was conscious of the fact that it was the route Harry took every day. As she looked out the window, she was aware she was seeing the things Harry saw daily for over twenty years. She wondered what Harry would have thought about as he peered at these sites on his routine commute. She wanted to get inside his head, but she couldn’t do it.
    Even if Harry’s name were not on the door, Julia would have recognized the office as his. It was neat and well kempt. There was a picture of Julia on the desk, which made her feel special, and there was a stack of Sports Illustrated magazines on a table in the corner. Julia opened Harry’s desk drawer. Inside was a package of cashew nuts. He was practically addicted to those things. There was also small package of dried shrimp made in Mexico. “What the hell was he doing with that?” she wondered.
    Julia sat in her living room talking to Mary. “So don’t you think that’s kind of weird?’
    “Yeah. It is pretty weird.”
    “That’s the second Mexican thing I’ve found. The other thing was that shirt with the maracas on it. I’m starting to wonder what’s going on.
    “Maybe nothing.”
    “Come on, this is not just coincidence. Who the hell eats Mexican dried shrimp?”
    “Maybe he was smuggling marijuana.”
    “No way.’
    “Then maybe he was smoking it.’
    “No.”
    “I’m just kidding.”
    “Well, he used to when he was young. I think it accounts for his absent-mindedness, forgetting where he put the keys and stuff.”
    “Yeah. That would explain a lot.”
    “But seriously, this Mexican thing is bugging me. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
    “It’s probably nothing.”
    “Well, I’m going to find out. Maybe the reading of the will will cast some light on it.”
    “Yeah, maybe so. That’s tomorrow, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Julia arrived at Stephen Asbury’s office at twenty until noon. She fixed some coffee and made herself comfortable in a chair in his office. Asbury had a large, heavy, ornate desk, and his diplomas decorated the wall behind it. “Stetson School of Law... impressive,” Julia thought.
    “We’re just waiting on one more party, and then we’ll begin,” Asbury said.
    Julia glanced nervously around the room. “Who else could be coming?” she wondered.
    As the clock hands approached 12:00 a man dressed in a business suit arrived. “John Duncan representing Amanda Torres,” he said, pumping Asbury’s hand.
    Asbury sat down and grasped a manila envelope. “Okay. Let’s begin.” He switched on a tape recorder on his desk. “We’ll be recording this for the record,” he said.
    “We are gathered here on November 17, 1991 to read the last will and testament of Harry Sanders. Present are Julia Sanders, widow of the deceased, and John Duncan, representing Amanda Torres. The will reads as follows:
    “Being of sound mind, I, Harry Sanders, record this last will and testament. To my wife, Julia, I leave the house, cars, and all other personal property, as well as all money in my bank and savings accounts. I also leave Julia two-thirds of my life insurance policy. I loved you more than you will ever know. I leave the remaining third of my life insurance payoff to Amanda Torres.”
    Asbury looked up from the paper. “That’s all there is.”
    “Who the hell is Amanda Torres?” Julia wondered.
     “Excuse me, but who is Amanda Torres?” Julia asked.
    “Ms. Torres wishes to remain as anonymous as possible. I am not disposed to reveal her personal information,” Duncan said.
    “What the hell is going on?” Julia wondered. As she sat perplexed, her confusion began to grow into anger. “I’m going to find out who she is. You can’t keep the details of my husband’s life secret from me. I’ll find out everything.”
    At home, Julia opened the door, crying hysterically. Mary was waiting for her.
    “I can’t believe what just happened. I just can’t believe it.”
    “What? What happened,” Mary asked.
    “Henry left one-third of his life insurance policy money to some woman I’ve never even heard of.”
    “What’s her name?”
    “Amanda Torres.”
    “Never heard of her.’
    “They won’t tell me anything about her. They’re keeping her whereabouts a secret.”
    “Why?’
    “I don’t know why. I don’t know why they would do this to me. I don’t know if Harry had some kind of business with her or if he was having an affair. God.”
    Julia broke down crying. Mary embraced her. “We’ll find out who she is. We’ll hire a private detective.”
    “Do you think he had a mistress?”
    “I don’t know. I doubt it.’
    “Tell me the truth. In all the years you knew Harry, did he ever make a pass at you?”
    “No. No, he didn’t.”
    “I’ve seen him look at other women before. I know he had thoughts about other ladies.”
    “All men do. It’s normal. We don’t know who this Torres woman is yet, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
    “If he had an affair I’m going to die. So what have you been doing while I’ve been gone?’
    “I’ve been reading this book I got off your bookshelf.”
    “The Ordeal of Richard Feverel. That’s one of Harry’s. All those highbrow books are Harry’s. Most of them put me to sleep.”
    “This one’s kind of interesting. So was Harry an English major?’
     “Yeah. He wanted to be a writer. That was his dream. Never happened.”
    Mary arranged an appointment with a private detective. When they arrived, the office was not what Julia expected. She had not anticipated anything like those old film noir movies, but Detective Shank’s office was downright cheery, with bright blue walls and colorful paintings. Shank was dressed in a red sweater and was quite amiable.
    “So your husband left money to this Torres woman and you want to find out who she is?”
    “Yes. That’s it exactly.”
    “Do you have any reason to think your husband was having an affair?’
    “The thought never crossed my mind until yesterday.”
    “Well, I don’t think it’s going to be too difficult to find her. I’ll start with an internet search, and I’ll call you when I know something. It’ll probably be tomorrow.”
    At home, Julia sat on the floor in the closet, holding the mysterious maraca t-shirt that Torres woman must have given Harry. ‘Is she beautiful?’ Julia wondered, tightening the shirt around her fist. Julia had to admit she had flirted with other men, but that was where it had ended. She had never been unfaithful. Abstaining from adultery was one of the Ten Commandments, wasn’t it? Would Harry worry about breaking a Commandment? Probably not, but still, having an affair would have been the ultimate injury to Julia. Julia sat imaging Harry with this Torres woman, making love on a beautiful Cancun beach. Julia ripped the maraca t-shirt to shreds.
    Detective Sharp phoned the next day.
    “Have you found anything out?” Julia asked.
    “Yes and no. There is a Lucinda Torres who cleans up in Harry’s office. She’s the night custodian. I don’t know if she’s related to Amanda Torres yet, but I’m going to pursue it further, and when I find out more, I’ll let you know.’
    “Good. Keep me posted.”
    Julia stayed up late that night, flipping through old photograph albums. She took particular pleasure in one picture of Harry on a Key West deep-sea fishing boat, proudly holding up a minnow-like fish he had caught. Another picture of a trip to Vegas reminded Julia of the time Harry snuck out of the room they were staying in and took a cab to another casino while Julia slept. He gambled all the money he had with him, and had to walk two miles back on foot because he had no cash for taxi fare.
    Yes, Harry could be quite funny - charmingly so. In most of those old photos he and Julia were both smiling. It hadn’t been a bad marriage, Julia thought, or a bad life. What could have prompted him to see another woman, if that’s what he had done? If he was dissatisfied, why didn’t he let her know? She could have changed, and made up for whatever it was. Julia sat up all night, drinking wine, wondering what sorts of things she didn’t know.
    The telephone awoke Julia the next morning. She had slept until 10:00, which was quite unusual for her. Detective Sharp was on the line.
    “Well, I’ve found out what you want to know,” he said.
    “Great. Break it to me.”
    “No, not on the phone. I always insist on seeing my clients in person. I don’t have anything scheduled for the next two hours, so if you can come to the office, I’ll tell you everything I’ve found out.”
    “Okay. Can I bring my best friend Mary for support?”
    “Sure. You can bring anyone you trust enough to confide in.”
    “Okay. See you in a few.”
    Julia was quite nervous when she and Mary arrived at Sharp’s office. Julia shakily shook his hand then sat at a chair at the foot of his desk. Mary sat in a second chair next to Julia’s. Detective Sharp sat behind the desk and picked up a manila envelope from which he produced an 8x10 photograph.
    “This is a photograph of Amanda Torres,” he said, handing the picture to Julia.
    Julia studied the disfigured face. “My God. She looks retarded.’
    “She is. She has a severe case of Downes Syndrome. She is incapable of taking care of herself.
    “What is her relationship to Harry? How did he know her?” Julia asked.
    “Well, there’s no easy way to break this to you, so I’ll give it to you straight. Harry was her father.”
    “What? You’re kidding.”
    “No, I’m afraid I’m not. From what I’ve gathered, Harry had a very brief affair with her mother about fifteen years ago. Amanda was the product of their relationship.
    “Is the mother that night custodian you told me about?”
    “Yes.”
    “You said the affair was fifteen years ago. You mean they weren’t still seeing each other?”
    “That’s right. Everyone I’ve talked to swears Harry broke the romantic aspect of the relationship off almost as quickly as it began. They remained friends, and Harry did what he could to help support Amanda, but he remained faithful to you for the past fifteen years.”
    “Faithful for the past fifteen years? You say that as if it doesn’t matter that he had a kid with another woman. Not just any kid, but a deformed little beast, the kind of monster you’d expect from an adulterous union. Jesus, I was prepared for the worst, but I never imagined it would be this bad. God...God. How could he do this to me? I’m infertile and I never got to have Harry’s child, but somehow this uneducated illegal alien piece-of-trash gets to do what I never could. Do you know what that feels like? Jesus, losing a husband is more than bad enough, but to learn all this... it’s just too much.
    Back at home, Julia sat weeping on the couch with Mary next to her, attempting to console her, yet address the reality of the situation.
    “I don’t know what to say. I wish there were some simple solution to this problem, or some way of looking at the bright side, but I don’t see one. You’re just going to have to be strong.”
     “I could kill her. I could kill that Lucinda Torres. I’m going to go see her. I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”
    “That’s not going to do any good. It’d probably be best if you just let it alone.”
    “No. I have to see whom my husband needed in addition to me. I’m going to see her tomorrow.”
    Saturday morning Julia’s Volvo pulled up in front of a small house on Cedar Street. The house was old, but not run down. It could have used a new coat of paint, but unlike the surrounding homes, it was well kept, with a newly mown yard and bright red shutters bordering the windows. Nice curtains in the home interior were visible through the windows. The home bore the look of a proud owner of modest means.
    Julia approached the front door. A welcome mat said something in Spanish Julia didn’t understand. Julia stared at it for a few minutes, took a deep breath, and tapped the knocker on the door. There was a rustling in the house, and a woman’s voice called out “one minute,” in a distinctively Spanish accent. A moment later the door opened, revealing a small Mexican woman in her forties.
    “Lucinda Torres?” Julia asked.
    “Yes, that’s me.”
    “I believe you knew my husband.”
    Ms. Torres appeared concerned, bit her lip, then cautiously asked, “Who is your husband?”
    “Harry Jacobs. He died last week.”
    Ms. Torres stared at the ground, her lips trembling slightly.
    “Well, did you know him or not?”
    “Yes, I knew him. I work at his office,” Ms. Torres said, still looking at the ground.
    “And did you ever see him outside the office?”
    Ms. Torres raised her head slightly, but avoided eye contact.
    “Did you see him outside the office?’
    “Yes, a long time ago. It was very long ago.”
    “Did you bear his child?”
     “Please, please do not grill me. You already know everything it seems. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. We made a mistake. I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    “You never meant to hurt me? You bore his only child. I’m his wife and his child was borne by another woman. How do you think that makes me feel? Why couldn’t you get your own husband? Why did you have to violate my marriage? Do you realize what you have done? You are a bitch and a whore. I hate you.”
    Julia was about to leave when to door opened a little wider, and a pair of eyes peeped around it. Julia looked down to see a smiling, slightly overweight, retarded girl. The child just stared at Julia and laughed. The laugh was not mocking nor in the least bit malicious, rather, it seemed genuine, an expression of joy and pure intentions.
    Julia studied the child’s face. So this was Amanda. This teenage girl held half of Harry’s genes. Julia had expected a monster, some sort of grotesque creature, but this small smiling person was impossible to dislike.
    “I have to go,” Julia stammered, backing away from the porch. “I have to go.”
    “It’s weird. I just don’t know what to think of it,” Julia told Mary, sitting on Julia’s living room couch. When I went over there I was angry, I mean really angry. I even had thoughts of hurting her. I really think I could have, I was so worked up and everything. I was yelling at her, calling her a bitch and a whore, and then I saw the kid and everything changed.”
    “She’s retarded, isn’t she?’
    “Yeah. She’s got Downes Syndrome, but she’s got the greatest, purest smile you’ve ever seen. You just can’t help but like her. “
    “Julia, I’m here to help you through a rough time, and I want you to feel good, but you have to remember, that girl is the product of a betrayal of your marriage.”
    “I know. I know it’s crazy, but I feel like seeing her again. I’m going to talk to Herb about the affair. If they really broke it off fifteen years ago, I think I can handle it.”
    Julia met Herb over lunch the next day at Fat Mama’s, a diner he and Harry used to frequent. Herb seemed a little nervous, reddening in the face as he apologized for never telling her about the affair before.
    “I just didn’t think it would help things for you to know. He ended the affair almost as soon as it began. You had such a good marriage, and I couldn’t bear to see it destroyed over such a sophomoric blunder on Harry’s part. I loved Harry to death, but he really fucked up that time. I never understood it or condoned it, but letting it destroy your marriage by informing you about it seemed like the least responsible thing to do. I hope you understand.”
    “Yes, I think I do, Herb. “
    “But he and Lucinda stayed friends?”
    “Yes. ”
    “What’s Lucinda like?”
     “Well, to be honest, she’s a very good person. She’s not the home wrecker you probably think she is. She’s not in the country legally, but we don’t pry into the matter. She does a good job, and as long as she remains a loyal employee, we aren’t interested in her immigrant status. But enough about Lucinda. How are you holding up?”
    I don’t know. This has been the most tumultuous time of my life. It’s been a shock, and my emotions have been all over the place, but I miss him. I miss him every second of the day. I can even accept the affair. I just wish I could have him back. I just miss him.”
    Julia sat at home alone, trying to concentrate on the television and rid herself of painful thoughts. She was watching a crafts show about scrapbooking. It seemed like a neat idea, she thought, but rather than make a scrapbook about her own life, she thought she might make a scrapbook about Harry. Yes, that was definitely a good project. She would research his life – his lovers, his friends, his schools days, his career. She would expose all of his secrets, no matter how ugly.
    Julia sat at the computer and began searching the internet. She would go to Charlottesville, Harry’s home town and the location of the University of Virginia, his alma mater. She would bring along her new digital camera. She scoured the Web and finally found a flight and hotel room at a good rate. She would leave that weekend.
    Julia had been to UVa before, but it had been years, and she was taken aback at how beautiful the school was – much more beautiful that she had remembered, with old red brick and ornate white Greek columns. She strolled around the Thomas Jefferson designed “Lawn” briefly, then set out directly for the Sigma Chi house, Harry’s fraternity.
    The Sigma Chi house smelled like stale beer, and the plastic cups everywhere were evidence there had been a party there the night before. Several very hung-over fraternity boys were watching cartoons in the living room and passing around a joint in an attempt to cure their hangovers. Julia asked to speak to the president.
    “That’s me,” one boy piped up.
    Julia explained that she was the widow of a Sigma Chi alumnus and wanted to know if they had any pictures of Harry in his school days. Tad, the President, proved to be quite amiable, and showed Julia up to the library room where there were many old yearbooks and photo albums. Tad told Julia to browse at her leisure and stay as long as she wanted.
    Julia picked up a yearbook from 1970 and found Harry’s photograph. She had to laugh at the bad, long and disheveled hair. The Sigma Chi group photo showed Harry holding a beer and flipping off the camera. He must have been a typical fraternity boy, she thought.
    A photograph album from the same year revealed even more of Harry’s college days. Picture after picture showed Harry drinking and carousing with his friends. He was holding a beer in every single picture, and one photo showed him taking a hit from a clear, plastic bong. As she continued to thumb through the snapshots, the same girl began appearing next to Harry in picture after picture. This must have been his girlfriend, Julia thought. A photo of the two kissing confirmed her suspicions. She was pretty, Julia had to admit, but Julia had won out over her, whoever she was.
    Tad allowed Julia to keep the snapshots of Harry. Julia thanked him for his graciousness, and walked back to the beautiful grounds of the university. She asked a student where the English department was and he directed her to Cabell Hall. Inside the English Department, pictures of William Faulkner and Edgar Allen Poe adorned the walls. Harry had loved Faulkner. Harry always had a desire to write, but never really produced anything except for a short story and a couple of poems. He abandoned his writing attempts twenty years ago, stating he had no inspiration.
    Harry had always told Julia he had worked at Henderson’s nursery every summer ever since high school. Julia wondered if Mr. Henderson was still alive. She looked up the nursery in the phone book, fished a quarter from her pocket and placed a call at a convenience store phone booth. A man in his forties answered, and Julia soon learned it was Mr. Henderson’s son, who was now running the business.
    “Oh yeah, I remember Harry. We used to pal around together. He worked here every summer for years.”
    Julia was elated. Here was someone who knew Harry when he was young. Eagerly, Julia asked the man, Jack, out to dinner. He agreed, and suggested a small Mexican restaurant on the Corner, a local hotspot full of bars and restaurants. Over dinner, Jack told Julia many tales about Harry. He spoke with a sincere enthusiasm and affection for Harry. He told her how Harry had been a Big Brother for a foster child for one year. Julia was amazed. Harry had never mentioned it. She knew Harry was kind, but she never knew he had helped needy children. She thought all he did in college was drink beer.
    Not everything Jack told her made Harry out to be a Good Samaritan. Jack told her about the time Harry took a carton of eggs and went around his apartment complex, opening doors and egging whoever happened to be inside. He told her about one poor fellow who had his door open, and was drinking a beer, watching a football game on television - not bothering anyone. Harry walked right up to the poor bastard and pelted him with six eggs. Julia had to laugh. She could definitely see Harry doing that. Up to no good.
    Jack also told her about a time when a student from a rival university, Virginia Tech, passed out at the fraternity house. Harry wasted no time in finding some hair clippers and shaved the guy bald while he was unconscious. Julia couldn’t help but smile. That was one reason she loved Harry. He could be so mischievous, charmingly so. Back at home, Julia sat in her living room, pasting pictures she had acquired in Charlottesville into the scrapbook. She had captured Harry’s college years, and she had a lot of photos from Harry’s later years, but the period in between them was sparse. They didn’t take as many photos during those years, possibly because they were more prone to the occasional spat at the time. What was she going to put in the scrapbook for these years? Then it dawned on her. Lucinda Torres might have some memorabilia. Any photos would probably be of Torres and Harry, but Julia had decided to use everything, as painful as it might be.
    As Julia drove to Ms. Torres’ house, she was apprehensive about how she would be received. They had not parted on good terms. Ms. Torres was not aware that Julia was now trying to take a mature approach to the situation. Nervously, Julia rapped the knocker on Ms. Torres’ door.
    “Who is it,” an accented voice asked.
    “It’s Julia, Harry’s wife.”
    “I don’t want to argue. I have enough problems of my own. I told you I was sorry. I mean it. I really wish I could take it back, but I can’t. Please don’t harass me. This is a very difficult time for me.”
    “I’m not here to harass you, I promise. I just wanted to know if you have any pictures of Harry.
    “Yes. Yes I do.’
    “May I see them?”
    “Yes you may.”
    Ms. Torres cautiously opened the door. Julia could see from her damp red eyes that she’d been crying.
    “Please, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
    “No, it isn’t you. I have a problem. It is the hardest problem of my life.”
    “What is it?”
    “They want to deport me. They want to send me back to Mexico. There is nothing back there for me. I won’t have any work. I won’t be able to take care of my daughter.”
    “I’m very sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. Do you have any relatives back in Mexico?”
    “Yes, but they have no jobs. I send money to them every month.”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
    “There is nothing to say. There is nothing I can do. Here, let me get what you are looking for.”
    Ms. Torres disappeared into another room for a moment, then came back with two large photo albums.
    “Take a look through these. There are pictures of Harry in them.”
    Julia took the photograph albums home and leafed through them. It was painful, to say the least. Picture after picture showed Harry and Ms. Torres together, laughing, holding hands, and sometimes kissing. Julia couldn’t help but cry.
    Mary came over a few hours later, and Julia informed her of the day’s events.
    “So they’re going to deport her. I still don’t know whether to hate her or not, but I feel sorry for the kid. After all, she is Harry’s.”
    “Well, it’s not your problem. After all, she’s done a great deal of damage to you. If she gets deported, who cares?”
    “I know, I know, but I can’t help but think of the girl. If they get deported, the kid will probably wind up in some kind of institution. I can’t imagine what a Mexican institution for the retarded would be like, but I bet it would be pretty horrible. I don’t know. There’s a part of me that says I should help her, and a part of me that says I should let her get what she deserves.”
    “Let her get what she deserves.”
    “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just the kid, you know?”
    “Yeah. Listen, you’ve got too much on your mind. I think we should go out tonight and just have some fun. Whaddaya say?”
    “Okay, I guess.”
    Julia and Mary sat at a small table at the Blue Note jazz and blues club. An electric blues band was playing and several couples danced clumsily on the floor, trying to keep up with the rhythm. Julia sipped on a mixed drink, and Mary nursed a Budweiser. Two men kept glancing over at the women, whispering to each other frequently.
    “Those guys keep looking over at us,” Mary said. “They’re kind of cute, don’t you think?”
    “I didn’t notice,” Julia said, staring into her drink.
    “Come on. It’s fun to flirt. You need to have some fun.”
    “It’s too soon. I’m not in the mood for romance.”
    “I think it would be good for you.”
    “Maybe so.”
    “Look. One of those guys is coming over here. Be friendly,” Mary said.
    One of the men approached the table and held his hand out to Julia.
    “Hello. My name is Wayne. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of dancing with me?”
    “Thank you, but I’m not in the mood,” Julia said.
    “Yes you are,” Mary said. She’d love to dance with you.”
    “Great.”
    Wayne extended his hand and helped Julia from her seat. Julia and Wayne slow-danced to a blues tune. Wayne tightened his hold on Julia as the song progressed. Suddenly, Julia broke his grip and stepped backwards.
    “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.” Julia cried.
    Julia returned to the table and downed her drink. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready.”
    “It’s okay. I understand,” Mary said, placing her arm around Julia.
    Julia walked out to her mailbox the next afternoon and examined the contents. There was the usual assortment of bills and junk mail, and then there was also a Hallmark card. The return address was from Ms. Torres. Julia hesitated for a moment, then opened the envelope. On the front of the card was a picture of a bouquet of flowers, and on the inside were the words “Forgive Me.” It was signed “Lucinda Torres.” There was a short note enclosed, written by Ms. Torres. The note read: “Mrs. Julia. I am sorry. Never did I ment to hurt you. Harry loved you certenly. I am going away and I don’t want hard feelings. Please forgive me.” Lucinda.
    Julia reread the card a few times, then decided it rang sincere. It was too bad she was being deported, especially on count of the child. Julia wondered if she could be of help somehow, for the kid if nothing else.
    Julia showed Mary the card and note later that day.
    “Well, yeah, I guess it does sound kind of sincere, but Jesus, think of what she did to you. Do you really want to help her?”
    “I don’t know. I do, kind of.”
    “Well, what can you do? She’s here illegally, and the law’s the law. It seems pretty cut and dried to me.”
    “I’m going to go see that lawyer, John Asbury. He was a friend of Harry’s, and I think he’ll consult with me for free. I can do that at least. I can also talk to Herb. He’s her employer. Maybe he can do something.
    Julia phoned herb at the office.
    “Herb? Hi, it’s Julia.”
    “Hello. How are you?”
    “Okay, I guess. I’m kind of confused, to tell you the truth. I’m calling about Ms. Torres. Have you heard they’re trying to deport her?”
    “Yes, she told us. It’s a sad situation.”
    “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but I want to help her, for the child’s sake. Is there anything you can do?”
    “We’re looking into it, but it appears she will be deported If she had the child in the States she the girl would be an American citizen, but she went back to Mexico to have the baby. She didn’t know.”
    “I just can’t bear the thought of that child in some sort of run-down Mexican institution. She’s innocent. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
    “We’ll pursue all of our options, but the outlook appears bleak.”
    “Okay, Herb. Do all you can.”
    The next afternoon, Julia rang Ms. Torres’ doorbell, toting some chocolate chip cookies she had made for Amanda. Ms. Torres appeared nervous as she cautiously opened the door.
    “Did you get my card?’ she asked.
    “Yes I did. It was very thoughtful of you to send it. Listen, I think you’re probably a good person who made a bad mistake. Anyway, I want to help you with your problem.”
    “Thank you, thank you, but I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do. They’re going to send us back to Mexico.”
    “You’ve been in the country for over twenty years and you’ve never been in trouble with the law. That’s got to count for something.”
    “I don’t know. Please, please come in.”
    Inside, Julia could smell chili pepper emanating from the kitchen.
    “Something smells good,” Julia said.
    “Thank you. I’m making lunch for me and Amanda. Will you stay and eat with us?’”
    “Sure. I baked these cookies for Amanda.”
    “Let me get her. Amanda, there’s someone here to see you.”
    The retarded girl emerged from her room carrying a jigsaw puzzle obviously intended for very young children. She smiled at Julia, approached her and stroked her hair. Julia smiled back and ran her fingers through Amanda’s blonde hair. Julia and Amanda assembled the puzzle while Ms. Torres finished making lunch in the kitchen. Amanda was obviously severely retarded, having difficulty with the simple puzzle, but her laughter was joyous, and she was filled with the innocent enthusiasm of a child. Amanda removed Julia’s glasses and put them on. Despite her distorted Mongoloid features, Julia couldn’t help but think how Amanda resembled Harry wearing his spectacles.
    Ms. Torres announced that lunch was ready, and they congregated around the kitchen table. The food was good, although different than any Mexican food Julia had ever eaten before. It was some sort of enchilada-like dish. Julia guessed it was authentic Mexican. There was a crucifix on the wall by the table, and before she began eating, Ms. Torres bowed her head and crossed herself in prayer. She was obviously a good person, Julia thought. Julia didn’t hate her anymore, but she couldn’t completely forgive her for the affair. Still, she wanted to help her.
    “You have a nice place here,” Julia said.
    “Thank you. It isn’t much, but it’s home. Home for now, anyway.”
    “Don’t worry. We’ll find some solution,” Julia said, wondering if she was being falsely optimistic.
    Julia sat on her living room floor, with photographs and scraps of paper strewn everywhere. She was pasting some of the Sigma Chi photos in the scrapbook when she came upon one of Harry with Kurt Vonnegut, who had come to speak at UVa. Vonnegut was one of Harry’s literary heroes, as was evident by Harry’s ecstatic smile in the photograph. Harry had once told her that Vonnegut once said the average writer has the I.Q. of the average retail store cashier. Harry certainly had a higher I.Q. than that. He could have been a writer. She should have pushed him a little more. That short story and the few poems he wrote showed potential. If only he could have found his muse. If only something could have inspired him.
    Julia spoke to Stephen Asbury on the phone later that day.
    ‘There’s really not a lot we can do. She should have applied for a green card a long time ago, but she has never made any effort to obtain legal status. That’s not going to look good. On the other hand, however, she’s been here a long time, and has been an honest wage earner, never once having been in trouble with the law. We can get depositions from employers and neighbors attesting to her respectability. Even so, she is here illegally, and nothing can change that fact. The outlook is not good, but I’ll do what I can.”
    “Harry would have appreciated that.”
    “Good. Then I’ll do it for Harry.”
    There was a knock at the door and Mary stuck her head in.
    “Julia? Can I come in?”
    “Of course. Don’t be so skittish.”
    “I got some great pix of Harry. Take a look at this one.”
    Mary handed Julia a photograph of Harry wearing a dress, sporting lipstick and rouge. He had lost a bet to Mary and had to go to a gay bar in drag. The funny thing was, he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. They made him go inside the bar by himself, and when they went in to check on him, he was sitting at a table with several other fellows, laughing it up. Harry could make friends anywhere he went. Another photo was of Harry presenting Julia the keys to her Jaguar. It wasn’t even Christmas, her birthday or anything. He just bought it for her on a whim. He could be so thoughtful when he wanted to be. Julia felt her upper lip trembling and her nose began to run. Soon tears were streaming from her eyes.
    Stephen Asbury phoned early the next morning to say he had filed for an administrative hearing to block the deportation proceedings. He was collecting affidavits from Ms. Torres’ neighbors as testimony as to her value as a respectable citizen. In the meantime, Ms. Torres was going to have to take steps toward naturalization immediately.
    After hanging up the phone, Julia drove to Ms. Torres’ house and took her to the Department of Homeland Security and started the naturalization process. There was a mountain of paperwork to complete, and it would take an eternity, but at least they were making an effort.
    Unfortunately, their efforts were too little too late. The deportation proceedings were happening quickly, before Asbury’s administrative hearing could be scheduled. There was nothing Asbury or even the greatest team of crack lawyers could do.
    It happened swiftly. Ms. Torres received orders to leave the country for Mexico within two weeks. Julia volunteered to help her straighten out her affairs. They held a garage sale, disposing of Ms. Torres’ furniture for next to nothing. Julia contacted a real estate agent and put the house up for sale. She promised to keep abreast of matters so the house would sell for a fair price while Ms. Torres was away in Mexico. Julia asked Ms. Torres permission to take Amanda to Disneyland for a day, and Ms. Torres gave her consent.
    Amanda was a joy. She spoke very little, and when she did, her vocabulary was quite limited, but her smile was radiant and contagious, and seemed to make everyone around her happy. She almost never cried or complained, but she was quite mischievous, in a good-natured way. When Julia had to go to the bathroom she left Amanda sitting on a bench outside the toilets. When she returned, her purse was gone. Julia immediately assumed someone had swiped it under the nose of the unaware retarded girl, but after a minute or two of panicking, Amanda produced it from behind some bushes. Amanda laughed hysterically, and Julia couldn’t help but do the same.
    The Disney characters milling about the park fascinated Amanda, especially Goofy, who thrilled her by wrapping his arms around her while Julia snapped a Polaroid picture. Space Mountain was Amanda’s favorite attraction, and she made Julia take her on the ride four times. As the roller coaster would ascend higher and higher, Amanda would cry out, “I’m going to the moon!” Julia couldn’t help but think she was going someplace far worse than that.
     Then the day came. Ms. Torres and Amanda were departing for Mexicali, Mexico, where the rest of the Torres family lived. It was an economically depressed area where there was little work, or at least, little quality work. Ms. Torres would be impoverished.
    Herb had arranged for the company to pay for Ms. Torres’ and Amanda’s plane tickets, and Julia volunteered to drive them to the airport. At the departure curbside, Julia shook Ms. Torres’ hand, told her to call if she needed anything, then gave Amanda a giant bear hug.
    A month passed, and Julia thought of Amanda often. She wrote a letter to Ms. Torres at the address she had left, but after a month and a half there was no reply. Finally, after two months of worrying, a letter arrived. The letter was written in misspelled, broken sentences, but Julia was able to decipher most of it. Ms. Torres was unable to find work and had exhausted her savings. She was living in a dirty shanty with her relatives. They had a hard time just finding something to eat for the day. As Julia had feared, Ms. Torres had turned Amanda over to Mexican authorities because she was unable to care for her. Amanda was in a government run institution.
    Julia raced to John Asbury’s office, and after staying for about two hours, booked a flight to Mexico. Mary came over as Julia was leaving. As Julia drove off, Mary yelled, “You’re insane! You’re absolutely insane!
    Julia had been to Mexico City and Acapulco before, but she was utterly unprepared for the squalor in which the people lived in Mexicali. People were defecating in and drinking out of the same creek. The homes were made of plywood with corrugated roofs thrown on top. Julia was immediately engulfed by a swarm of children either selling trinkets or just plain begging. She gave one child a quarter to take her to Ms. Torres.
    She found Ms. Torres hand cleaning some garments with a washing board. She smiled with surprise when she saw Julia.
    “I got your letter. I just had to come,” Julia said.
    “I’m glad. Have you sold the house yet?”
    “No, not yet. So how are you?”
    “Well, you can see for yourself. We have nothing here. Nothing.”
    “How is Amanda?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to visit her. Not too good I think. I took her there to drop her off and she cried and cried. She cried even more when she saw the place. It isn’t nice. When I got home I wept for two days.”
    The next day, Julia and Ms. Torres left early to visit Amanda. The bus ride was long and uncomfortable. When they arrived, the institution was in a drab, chipping adobe building. Inside it was sparse, except for a few paintings that looked like they had been done by patients. The patients were all dressed in unwashed robes and the place smelled of body odor. Amanda immediately ran up and clung to Julia, but there was no smile on her face. She clutched Julia’s waist tighter and tighter, and cried and howled. Ms. Torres tried to loosen her grip on Julia, but Amanda just swiped at her hands. She was clearly angry at her mother for placing her in the institution. Julia began to sob. Amanda was living like an animal here. She would surely die.
    Alone in her hotel room, Julia pondered every possible course of action, but always returned to the same solution. It was absurd. It was crazy, but it was the only answer. It was the only human, compassionate thing to do.
    Early the next morning, Julia visited Ms. Torres at her shanty, where Ms. Torres was cooking some tomatoes for breakfast.
    “Ms. Torres.’
    “Oh, hi.”
    “Listen. I cannot bear to think of Amanda living in that institution any longer. It’s torture. She’s suffering and she will surely die there.”
    Ms. Torres wiped away a few tears.
    “Yes. I know.”
    I’ve been thinking it over, and there’s only one thing we can do. You have to let me bring Amanda back to America with me. You have to let me adopt Amanda.”
    “Adopt her?”
    “Yes. It’s the only way.”
    Ms. Torres paused for a moment, and her brow wrinkled with thought.
    “I’ve thought it over. I know what it means to take care of a mentally impaired child. I’m ready to assume the responsibility. I care for her. It’s not that I just care for her... I love her.”
    “You love her?”
    “Yes. I’m certain of it. I love her.”
    “Then you may have her.”
    Six weeks later, Julia sat talking to Mary on the couch. Julia was holding a shoebox full of papers.
    “I found them in the storage room when I was putting up Harry’s old things. They’re all poems. I had no idea. They’re all for me. I thought he’d given up writing completely. Not one of them is for Ms. Torres. I inspired him to write. You have no idea how much this means to me. I could never have wished for anything more. God, I miss him. He was the greatest.”
    “How’s Amanda?”
    “She’s an Angel. She’s so innocent. When she gets in trouble it’s because she doesn’t understand she’s doing something wrong. I can see a lot of Harry in her. She’s got his mischievous laugh. She’s the daughter I never had. Between having Amanda and finding those poems, I’ve made my peace with Harry. Now I can move on with my life.
    On a Tuesday afternoon an envelope from America arrived at Ms. Torres’ Mexican home. Enclosed was a photograph of Julia and Amanda holding hands. Ms. Torres wept for a moment, wiped her eyes, then smiled.

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