Good Enough
We found the Spencers in the cafeteria. They sat next to each other at one end of a long table that had the seats attached to it. I coached Charlie on the way towards them. “We’re in a busy place that my friend Doc invited us into. Whatever we do will reflect on him. That means we can’t cause a scene. No matter what, you need to keep it together. No shouting and no smashing things, clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me do the talking.”
He agreed as we drew even with the table. I asked the Spencers if we could sit. Silvia nodded and John lifted a palm towards the seats on our side of the table. We sat opposite the couple. John Senior opened the conversation. “How’d you get on with Johnny?”
“Fine, fine; he’s a great kid. You raised him very well. I don’t envy the work he’s going to have to do to put his life back together, but he’ll be fine. He’s got the right attitude.”
Silvia thanked me. “I’ve been worried sick. I never wanted him to enlist in the service; certainly not now with that awful war going on. It’s so pointless. I can’t imagine what the government is thinking.”
John tried to talk his wife down from her soapbox. “Now, now, Silvia; we don’t know the gentleman’s politics nor are they any of our business. He may believe in the war.”
Silvia wasn’t so easily talked down. “Anyone who believes in the war is an ass.”
John frowned at his wife and apologized to me. “Excuse her, Mister Edwards. Silvia is a passionate woman.”
“No harm done, Mister Spencer.”
“Call me John.”
“And you can call me Law.”
“Thanks for coming to see my boy, Law. He’s been real down since they sent him home. He needed to talk to someone whose been through it. I tried to buck him up, but I don’t know how. I was too young for World War Two and they didn’t need that many for Korea, so I never served. I don’t know how to talk to someone whose suffering like Johnny.”
“I was happy to do it. It’s given me an idea. Maybe I’ll talk to Doc and see if they’d let me volunteer to do that more often. I’m retired and bored a lot of the time. I could spend a day or two a week down here and try to give some of these kids hope.”
John liked my idea. “That would me a mighty nice thing to do. Poor Johnny’s been worried about how he’s going to get around and earn a living and what his girl will say…”
Silvia scoffed. “I think we know very well what that trash will say. I keep telling Johnny to let her alone. She barely wrote when he was away the first time. She just wants someone to keep her. She’ll take one look at him and head for the hills. I’d say, ‘good riddance’ except I don’t want her upsetting Johnny.”
The exchange between husband and wife helped me understand the dynamic between them. John Senior was the stoic provider, content to give his family as much as he could and happy for them to use it as they saw fit. Silvia was the decider, the gatekeeper, the judge of who was good enough and who was not. I asked her a question which would expose the reason behind our visit.
“What was in the letter you wrote to Judy, Missus Spencer?”
Her head jerked around and she stared at me. “What’s that?”
“You wrote a letter to Judy Diamond at her hotel, the Ben Franklin on Sansom Street, a few blocks back from Washington Square. What did you say to her?”
She denied the letter. “I don’t have any idea what you’re on about. I would have no reason to talk to that trash.”
John tried to defend his wife from my accusations. “I don’t understand this. How do you know Judy? Why do you say Silvia wrote? She says she didn’t. Why do you say she did?”
I explained. “Two weeks ago, my friend Charlie, who is visiting from Montana, went to a play. His brother is a set builder and is very close with a choreographer. They got permission for us to be backstage. Charlie met a girl named Judy. They became friends…”
Silvia barked in celebration. “HA! You see? That trash is throwing herself at everyone she meets!”
Charlie lurched in his chair. I grabbed his shoulder to keep him down and went on with my speech. “Judy said they couldn’t be more than friends because she had a boy who was special. She and the boy had to be apart for a while, but they had an understanding.”
Silvia switched from barking to muttering. “An understanding my foot. No son of mine is going to marry trash like that.”
John interrupted again. “What are you talking about? Who are you, Law? How do you know the things you’re saying?”
I kept talking. “Four days ago, we went to get Judy to go out for the afternoon. She didn’t answer the door. She couldn’t because she was dead.”
Silvia didn’t react. John muttered, “oh no!”
“She killed herself. It seems her situation had become unbearable. Earlier the previous day, we’re pretty sure she discovered she was six weeks pregnant. I say that we’re pretty sure because we can’t be certain that she knew or when. We are certain that she was pregnant. That would mean conception was sometime around Thanksgiving. She also got a letter in the mail. The envelope was addressed very neatly in a woman’s hand. The return address was yours, 1725 Prospect Avenue, Scranton. The name was Spencer, but no mister or missus. I don’t know what was in the letter because she took it into the bathtub with her when she cut her wrists.”
John covered the lower half of his face with his hands. “Oh, my God.” He looked at his wife. “Silvia, did you write something to her?”
Her face hardened into an ugly mask of defiance. “WHAT IF I DID? You knew what she was, where she came from! She was low-life trash. She was trying to trap our Johnny. I didn’t tell her to kill herself. That’s none of my doing. We got the telegram that Johnny was hurt and was coming to get looked after. I didn’t want her here fawning all over, pretending to care. Johnny was hurt and it was up to me to do what was best for him.
“I wrote to say that Johnny didn’t love her and he never did. I said he was tired of her but didn’t know how to break it off. I said that I was writing because as women, we’d understand each other.” She scoffed again. “As if trash like her could even be called a woman. Nothing but a slut like her mama was before.”
Charlie’s whole body tensed at the ugly word, but he said nothing.
Silvia went on with her venom. “I told her it was finished between them and not to write or bother coming around anymore. I said Johnny was a good boy, and he deserved better than trash like her.”
I took my hand from Charlie’s shoulder to wring my hands together, but they hurt, so I left them alone. “You had your say, Missus Spencer. She got your letter the very night of the day we think she got the news of her pregnancy. She read it, and she filled the bathtub, and she slit her wrists. She bled to death with your awful, hateful letter clutched in her hand. Your grandbaby died with her.”
Silvia’s face didn’t change a bit. It was still defiant. “If she was pregnant, that was her affair. My Johnny was home on Thanksgiving.”
I contradicted her. “Funny, he told Charlie and me that he saw his girl before he left for his second tour. How did he get back to Vietnam? Did he go over on a troop carrier? They leave from the Navy Yard right here in the city. Even if he took a commercial flight with a military voucher, he would have left from Philly. Maybe he told you he had to report a day or so before he actually did.”
John nodded. “He told me when I put him on his bus. He didn’t want his mother to know because she didn’t like Judy. Johnny was with her for three days.” He looked at his wife like she’d been replaced by a gargoyle. “You killed our grandchild.”
Silvia refused the accusation. “I did no such thing! I told her she wasn’t good enough for our Johnny. What she did next was her affair.”
John propped his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands. “What on Earth will I tell Johnny? He’ll be crushed!”
I answered. “Don’t tell him anything for now. Let him keep his hope for another week. I’m making arrangements for a funeral and interment in Reading. I’ll get word to you through my friend Doc when I have the date worked out. Tell him then. Tell him what role his mother played. Tell him about the son or daughter he might have had. Tell him all that, or I will. I’ll expect to see you and Johnny at the funeral. Your wife is not welcome.”
John raised his head from his hands. “I still don’t understand this. Who are you? Why are you doing these things, coming to tell us about Judy and arranging her funeral?”
“I’m someone who cares. I’m just about the only one who did, besides Charlie and your Johnny. I knew Judy a little. If I’m honest, I didn’t like her very much because I worried she would try to trap my friend. I also didn’t know her well enough to know how wrong I was. She’s dead and I can’t apologize for misjudging her. The only thing I can do is see that she gets to leave this life with as much dignity as anyone can.
“She was a young girl who was convinced nobody wanted her. Now she’s dead. Her mother can’t take care of her arrangements because Agnes can barely function. Her grandparents, the McGills don’t want anything to do with her. They never did. Charlie liked her. I knew her a very little bit, and I like Charlie a great deal. That’s enough for me to claim the body and have a funeral and bury her in Reading, because the poor girl deserves more than she got.”
I got up from the table and tapped Charlie’s shoulder to get him moving. He got up and stood with his hands in his pockets. I had one final word for John Spencer. “Don’t forget what I said. I leave it to you to tell your son what happened. You better tell him the entire story. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it. I’ll tell it with malice in my heart for you, Missus Spencer, because I loathe you. If there was any justice in the world, everyone who looked at you would know exactly the type of hateful bitch you are. I suspect your husband is learning and your son will know soon.” I shifted my attention to Charlie. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We didn’t speak until we reached the car. Charlie started it so I could turn the heater on. He was upset because I said I didn’t like Judy. “I didn’t know you didn’t like her.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t.” I changed my mind and offered a correction. “I can’t even say I didn’t like her as much as I didn’t trust her. She struck me as an opportunist. You explained the situation and I see that I was wrong. What I learned about her these last few days proves that I was wrong.”
He wrung the wheel under his hands. “I’ve never wanted to hurt a woman as badly as I just did. I feel guilty for the impulse I had to punch her right off that stool.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m also glad you held your tongue.”
“It was hard. Judy died because of her, didn’t she?”
I shrugged at the pointlessness of assigning blame. “It’s everybody’s fault and it’s no one’s fault. How the hell could you pick any one person and say they made this happen? The way I see it, it’s like the world conspired against this poor girl. Where could you say the trouble started? Did it start when Raymond and Agnes were fooling around? Maybe. Did the problem start even before that, with the way the McGills raised wild Raymond or the way the Diamond’s raised easy Agnes? Probably.
“Matt McGill wouldn’t help his son. Millie McGill didn’t insist. Raymond tried to do the right thing in the wrong way and got killed. Agnes’ family wouldn’t help. Agnes did the minimum she had to and accepted the vile charity of the McGills. She also allowed herself to become bitter. She hated her daughter for existing. Then there’s Silvia Spencer who is a wretched, hateful woman. She’s probably one of those nightmares who make the worst mothers-in-law because no one is ever good enough for their special little boys.
“Johnny Spencer is a decent looking kid and seems like a good man, but he’s not Prince Charming. Judy could have done better, but she could’ve done a whole lot worse. I’m not making fun of Johnny; I’m just pointing out that he’s an average man like a lot of average men. Silvia acts like he’s the second coming of Christ. She should’ve been thrilled that someone as pretty and outgoing as Judy was interested in her son. Instead, she judged Judy for her alcoholic mother and decided she was trash.
“I guess I’m rambling here, but everyone is at fault and no one is. Even Judy shares some of the blame for not letting anyone get close to her. She might have had a chance if she would have asked for help instead of doing what she did. I would have helped her. Walt would have. Even if Johnny abandoned her, I would have let her live in the apartment you’re using. We all would have figured out how she could’ve earned a living. I’d much rather spend money to start a child off right than to pay for a funeral to bury it with its mother.”
He twisted the wheel some more. “Did we do any good, Law? Was there a point to any of this?”
“I think we did. As much as it’s possible to call anything related to this mess a success, I’d say we were a success. We solved the case. We figured out the situation Judy was in and why she did what she did. You’ve got your answer and Judy has as much peace as she’s likely to get. Does that help, or do you feel worse?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I feel better because I don’t have to wonder what happened, but I feel worse because I saw things I can’t unsee. You warned me a bunch. You told me not to go into Judy’s room because I shouldn’t see her that way. You told me not to go in Agnes’ house. You even warned me again today when you unbuttoned your shirt for Johnny.
“Jesus Christ! You were wounded by your friend’s bones! How the fuck is that possible? How are you ok? How do people see shit like this and live through shit like this and not go crazy? How is it possible for someone who looks as normal as Missus Spencer or Mister McGill to be so hateful and mean? How can anyone allow themselves to get as bad as Judy’s mom? How the fuck do you walk around with those scars on your body and know where they came from?”
I held my hands in front of the heater vent to warm the painful joints. I offered a story to illustrate the vast breadth of the human experience. “I told you and Mitch about a man I killed in The Great War.”
He remembered. “The one you threw the grenade to?”
“That’s the one. The information I held back was how hard I laughed when the grenade exploded.”
“You laughed?”
“I saw the man, I threw the grenade and told him to catch. He caught it, it exploded, and I laughed like his death was hysterical.”
He stared like I’d grown a second head. “How could you?”
I rubbed my hands together under the heater vent and wished they’d warm up faster. “I’d like to say I don’t know, but that would be a lie. I laughed with the same depravity of emotion I used when I slept with a box of grenades as a pillow, or when I opened cans of corned beef with the bayonet I killed men with. I laughed with the same perversion of spirit I used when I shot rats for sport.”
He interrupted me. “I shoot groundhogs because they undermine the roots of our crops.”
I explained. “There were always dead men out in no man’s land. I could see them from the edge of the trench. The rats would feast on their flesh. I would pick a corpse and shoot it to scatter the rats. When they ran from inside the uniform, I’d shoot as many as I could with the remaining rounds. A Springfield rifle will load five rounds; that’s one for the corpse and four for the rats. It was like a carnival game on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. A bunch of the guys would get together and have contests.”
He was understandably horrified. “Jesus Christ!”
“People have an incredible capacity for kindness. They also have an incredible capacity for cruelty. The truly amazing thing is that both can exist within the same person. I’ve experienced the black depths of one and the brilliant heights of the other. You think I’m a kind old man, and that’s what I am, but the young version of me, the version who hated the world that rejected him, that man was a fucking monster.
“When I look back on the things that I did, I can hardly believe the devil who did them is the same man that I am now. I’ve changed a great deal in my life. I’ve learned to be better. I have no more hate in my heart for anyone. I still have anger, but I have no more hate. It’s hard for me to accept how much hatred and violence once lived inside of me.
“Ever since World War Two, people have been asking how the Germans murdered six million Jews. I know how they did. They did it with the same look on their faces as Silvia Spencer just wore, and the same blandness of Matt McGill as he said, ‘Raymond’s actions were his own.’ Some of them probably laughed like I laughed when that soldier exploded. Does that make every last one of them a bad person? Is it possible to condemn an entire country? I’m damned if I know.”
Charlie shook his head. “A lot of them didn’t know.”
I almost laughed at his naivete. “They fucking knew. Their neighbors disappeared in the middle of the night, and they pretend they didn’t know. Bullshit. Who the fuck drove the trains? Who made the lists? Who built the camps? Who stoked the fires? Who ran the crematoriums? Who gathered the belongings that were left behind? Regular people did, just like Silvia Spencer and Matt McGill and me and you.”
He shook his head again. “Not like me. I could never…”
“Yes, you could. With the right motivation you could be a monster. The capacity for cruelty exists in all of us. It’s part of human nature. The truly terrifying thing about mankind is that both extremes are possible. Silvia Spencer just proved that. She’s a wife and a mother. Her husband loves her and so does her son. She’s mostly a good person, but she did something terribly cruel. Look at me. I laughed at that soldier because he meant nothing to me. In hindsight, I’m horrified that I was ever that callous, but I remember how I felt in the moment, and I didn’t care at all.”
I held my palms facing each other about a half inch apart. “Your experience is this narrow. You exist inside your safe, rural life where no one wants to hurt you and everyone you meet either loves you or thinks of you as a friend. You’re looking at the world through the peephole in a door. What we did these last few days has widened your view. You’ve seen things you didn’t think were possible because you’ve never been up close to them. Now you have and you’re afraid. You’ve discovered that such things exist in a world you thought was basically good and generally nice. I hate to be a part of shattering your illusion, but an illusion is all it was.”
He tried to speak but his voice failed and he hissed. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Are you saying the world is awful?”
“Once upon a time, that’s exactly what I said. I said something very close to that when I put your father on his train to Montana in 1929. I said, ‘the world is full of people, and people are full of hate.’ That’s what I thought back then, but I was wrong. The world is full of people and people are full of free will. They have the capacity to love, or to hate, or to do each in turn. The Lord made the world, and the Lord is good, therefore the world wants to be good, but people have free will, so evil exists. You should look for love but be wary of hate. Both exist and they often exist very close together. Do you understand?”
“I’m starting to.”
“It scares you, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
“That’s good.” I changed my mind and corrected myself. “Fear is not good, but respect is. Anger and hate are like fire. They’re useful in controlled amounts, but they can be consuming if allowed to run wild. Instead of burning wood or coal, they burn the brightness of your soul. If someone wrongs you, by all means get angry, but don’t stay that way. Don’t nurse the anger until it becomes hate. You’re already learning those lessons. Just a few days ago you beat the shit out of a mailbox because someone wronged Judy. We just witnessed a similar level of wrong, but you held yourself in check. You’re growing up into a fine young man. You’re already better than I was at your age. Stay on your current path and you’ll do fine.”
“If you say so.”
“Look at it this way, Charlie; you have the capacity for evil, but you choose to be good. That makes you a better person than if you had no capacity for evil. If being good was your only option, it wouldn’t be virtuous. Maybe that’s how God tests us. He gives us the option to be monsters, and saves those who choose not to be.”
He accepted my words with a single shallow nod. “Thanks, that helps, a little.” He put the car in reverse to back from the spot and stopped to check his mirrors.
I called out to him. “Hey, Charlie.”
He waited with his foot on the brake to see what I wanted.
“You did well. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this was for you, but you did what was necessary even when it was distasteful. That’s what men do. Your friend can rest easier now that someone understands why she did what she did. I’m glad I was able to do this with you. I’m glad we were able to help Judy.”
“Thanks, Law. I’m glad we did it. A lot of it hurt, but it was worth it. I also learned a lot, even if it was stuff I didn’t want to know.”
“Let’s go home.”
He checked the mirrors and backed from the spot.
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