Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1940)

Jerry felt she hated him, hated all men, their arrogance, their stubbornness. The way David had once grovelled at Wanda's feet and now — Davey kissed his mother, but he forgot her before the door was shut. He was gabbing away to his father in a fashion that made his recent behavior in the apartment, his silence and careful politeness, an appalling thing. A boy came with the keys to the house and Jerry went to get her hat. "Why don't you go see Grandma B.?" Wanda asked suddenly. "She always — you always — " Jerry only shook her head. She couldn't, right now, face Grandma B. THE house, when she got to it, was strange and familiar and terrible. Celestine greeted her joyfully. But Jerry couldn't for a moment say anything. She pushed her hat back and looked around her, wistfully, a little dazed and bewildered. What had happened to this house and the people who used to live in it so happily? She said, "Funny — it seems as if it was a different woman who lived here. Yet — Celestine, I feel as if I'd been away for years and I feel as if I'd never been away at all." "Yep," said Celestine, "that's what Mr. Mac he say, too. Kin I get your bags?" "I'm not going to stay," Jerry said. "Mr. Mac — he say give you all the keys, fix up your room, he say it's yours — " said Celestine. "I don't care," Jerry said. "He's — heartless or he'd know I couldn't live here any more. It's got ghosts — Come on, Celestine, I'm going to close up." But Jerry couldn't seem to get busy Everything had a memory, she kept stopping to look at things — things they had bought together, she and Mac, books they had read together — The doorbell rang and she jumped and dropped back into an ash tray the half-burned cigarette she had picked up — Mac never smoked his cigarettes more than halfway. It was Jeff. She cried, "Jeff. Jeff. It's good to see you." His face was all crinkled with some emotion. "Well," he said, "I been here every Friday. I kept saying to myself, 'Today's the day she'll be back.' Looks mighty good to see you home, Jerry." "I'm not — home," Jerry said. "I just came to get my things." "You mean you ain't coming back here to live with Mac?" Jeff asked. "Mac's gone to the club and I — I don't want to live here any more," Jerry said, trying to hold her voice steady. "Well," said Jeff, "I guess I don't know anything about anything any more. I'd a sworn — you and Mac — " He put the paper down on the table. Then he picked it up again. Handed it to her. "You see that?" he said. It was an early afternoon paper. On the front page was the story that told of David's marriage the night before. He had married that nice woman and he hadn't even told Wanda this morning. Jerry sat down because her knees wouldn't hold her upright any longer. Wanda — Wanda would care about this, she would be hurt. hANDA sat in her bedroom staring at the same paper. There was a small odd smile on her face. She kept hearing Davey's voice — "Aunt Helen made me a sweater — Aunt Helen helped us — " So now Aunt Helen was David's wife. But she — Wanda — she was his wife. Well — that was that. Now you were a bright young divorcee, now your husband had a new wife, your son had a new mother and you had — what? She ought to tell Jerry about it first, explain to Jerry, warn her. She dialed the number and it rang and rang, but nobody answered. She hung up the phone, carefully. Maybe, after all, it wasn't necessary to explain to Jerry. She'd understand without any explanation. UOING down the walk with the last of her bags in her hands, beside Jeff whose arms were full of the last load of books, Jerry heard the phone ring. Jeff said, "Phone's ringing." Jerry said, "Doesn't matter. Probably some of Mac's friends." "I'll drive you over," Jeff said, "help you get this stuff out. Hop in, sister. I — I feel like I'd been to a funeral." "How silly," said Jerry, brightly. "My goodness, divorces happen every day. Look at how many Mac gets for people in a week." Oddly enough, at that exact moment, Mac wasn't getting anybody a divorce. The judge had just refused to grant a decree. He was a tall, silvery-haired judge, with a stern eye. He said, "There aren't any honest grounds for divorce in this case. I believe these two people can get back together. If as much time were spent trying to bring people together as you lawyers spend getting them apart, it would be a better thing. I warn you, no divorces will be granted in this court unless there are legitimate grounds and unless every effort toward reconciliation has been made and enough time has elapsed to convince me that all chance of avoiding divorce has gone. Decree denied." His eyes, stern and steady, were on young MacNally. And Mac looked back at him, suddenly startled. He'd heard that this new judge, Judge Williams, was tough. He said, "Thank you, Your Honor." Walked out, his face taut with thought. Jerry parked the car in front of the apartment house and they went upstairs. Everything was very quiet. Her key stuck, and Jeff put the books down on the floor and opened the door for her. There wasn't a sound. The living room glittered coldly, the mirrors threw back two figures, the rumbled, weary figure that was Jerry and the dark, sad figure of Jeff, his arms loaded with books. "Homelike little place," Jeff said, and his voice echoed and he wished he had not spoken. He didn't like the feel of this place. There was something very wrong here. Only sound was the ticking of a big clock, measuring the seconds off precisely, heartlessly. Jerry called, "Wanda." She said, "Put 'em down anywhere, Jeff. Maybe she's gone out. I'll see — and I'll buy you a drink." "I need one," Jeff said as she went out. A moment later he heard a strange strangled sound, then silence, then Jerry screamed once. The scream was high and shrill and agonized. Jeff went to her in long bounds. But there wasn't, he knew, anything you could do. Once he saw the way the blonde head hung down from the shining bedspread; once he saw the way the hands clutched that newspaper. He called a doctor, an ambulance, but once he'd seen Wanda lying there he knew none of it was any use. And he couldn't think of much of anything to say to Jerry. To comfort her. He felt a little sick and scared himself, but all Jerry said was, "I know why she did it. I know." I HE frantic hours were filled with all the strange things you read about in the papers but never think can happen to you. A confusion of faces. There was Grandma Brokaw, and Grandpa. The white-coated interne who said, quite gently, to Jerry, "I'm sorry — we were too late." 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