22. Jude
CHAPTER 22
Jude
The call from Harrison Watts comes at noon on a Tuesday in early June. Hope and Faith are out of school for the summer, and Jude has been in control of her drinking for months. There are evenings when she’d love to pour a second cocktail, and surely there are days where something will flare up inside of her and her first thought is: “Mix a quick drink and relax,” but she’s done well. She’s proud of herself. She feels strong.
“Mrs. Majors,” Harrison Watts nearly growls into her ear over the phone. “I’ve got news for you.”
Jude watches the twins as they run out the front door to play in the yard. It’s hot and humid and horrible out there, but children don’t ever seem to notice such things. Sticky weather? Let’s play ! Pouring rain? Time to jump in puddles ! Snow? Let’s get out there and catch some frostbite ! She smiles as they plonk down in the thick grass with their dolls.
“Mr. Harrison,” Jude says. She’s standing near the phone in the kitchen, one hand in the pocket of her pleated skirt. “I’m ready.”
But is she? Jude’s heart is thumping madly—galloping like wild horses in her chest—and the edges of her vision are going white. She pulls a chair over to the counter and sits down so that she won’t pass out.
One last memory of Catherine has been in her mind recently, and she hopes against all hope that the news Harrison Watts is about to give her isn’t bad news.
Catherine, maybe twenty-three at the time, had asked Jude to attend a funeral with her. An actress she’d known in Hollywood had been dating the head of a major studio when she’d been found dead in Laurel Canyon. The circumstances were mysterious and suspicious, but no foul play was indicated by the authorities. Jude and Catherine had dressed in black and taken a taxi to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
It was October, and the sunlight was softened. The trees felt on the cusp of turning, and everything was autumnal.
“What do we think really happened?” a semi-famous actor whispered to the man with him. “Strangled? Stabbed? And they actually want us to believe there was no foul play?”
“We all know that he’s married,” the other man whispered back. “And that the wife’s family is connected .” He says “connected” as if there are air quotes around the word.
“Mmm,” said the actor, shaking his head with pity. “Such a shame.”
“Always find yourself someone you can go out with in public, otherwise you’re in a dangerous relationship,” the second man said as they gazed right at each other.
“Oh, like us?” the actor whispered back, so quietly this time that only Jude and Catherine could hear. A look passed between them that seemed to send them both right to the edge of having a fit of laughter, and then they looked away.
“She wasn’t very nice,” Catherine whispered to Jude, leaning in so close that her breath was warm against Jude’s ear. “I worked with her one time and she called me a bitch.”
Jude turned her head sharply. “Are you serious? I thought she was supposed to be America’s sweetheart?”
Catherine chuckled softly. “Well, maybe she was. But to anyone who worked with her, she was about as much fun as eating a sandwich full of broken glass.”
Jude winced at the imagery.
They sat through the service and all its theatrics, shaking their heads disapprovingly at the loss of such a young, vibrant life, and watching as the actress’s mother lifted the black net veil from her eyes to dab at them with a handkerchief. It was all very sad and beautiful and Hollywood.
Afterwards, Catherine wanted to walk through the cemetery, which Jude found somewhat morbid, but she was also curious.
“Look—Bugsy Siegel!” Jude pointed out the mobster’s grave as they passed. “Wow.”
“Here’s Charlie Chaplin’s mother,” Catherine said with reverence. “Like, the woman who gave birth to Charlie Chaplin is in this spot.”
“Graves are weird,” Jude said. She shivered. “Just the idea of being in a box…I don’t know. I don’t think I want to do it.”
Catherine looked at her, amused. “Then what will you do? Have someone throw you overboard at sea?”
Jude shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s a long way off though anyway.”
And it felt that way at the time—almost impossible to fathom death and eternity. In her early twenties, Jude could only think of the moment. Of going to work, stopping for groceries on the way home, and cooking dinner with Catherine each night. She could think ahead to whether they’d go out for a drink that evening, and possibly what she’d wear the following day, but what she wanted her eternal rest to look like? No. No way. Not possible.
“Of course it is, Judy darling,” Catherine cooed, looping her arm through Jude’s as their high-heeled shoes poked holes in the grass. They walked on, passing moss-covered stones, trees laden with leaves that would soon fall, and freshly-dug graves with warm, soft flowers still resting where loved ones had placed them. It was melancholy and Jude sighed deeply.
“I don’t want it all to pass me by,” Jude said. “I don’t want to wake up and suddenly I’m old and I’ve never fixed the things that needed to be fixed. I don’t want to miss the chances to say the things I need to say.”
“What do you need to say?” Catherine asked as they meandered through the gravestones, stopping to admire particularly old ones or the resting places of famous people they recognized. “And to whom?”
Jude thought about this. Catherine’s warm arm was still looped through hers. “Well, I’d like to talk to my mother again.”
“Okay, that could happen—potentially,” Catherine said. “And?”
“I’d like to ask my father where she went and why I never heard from her again. And I’d like to find a few people and really let them know how much they hurt me.” She thinks of Chester on the boat all those years ago; of her stepmother, who has always made her feel inferior; and of Alice and her hateful words that night when she threw her out of the car and tossed a bottle at Jude. She carries those wounds inside her heart every single day.
“Hmm.” Catherine sounded thoughtful. “Well, I think your parents are a good idea. Those relationships are important and they have roots. But, the people who hurt you along the way…” Catherine trailed off and they walked in silence for a bit. “Sometimes people lash out and hurt other people to make themselves feel better. Maybe those people were just hurt in their own ways, too.”
Jude hadn’t really ever thought of it that way. “Maybe,” she said. “Could be.”
Catherine stopped and turned to look right at Jude. They stood there beneath the drooping branches of a California live oak tree, Catherine petite and pretty, Jude taller, sturdier, and lovely with her simple, symmetrical features and dark hair.
“You know, Judy.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “Those guys in front of us at the service were onto something, I think.”
Jude’s heart raced; was Catherine talking about the men being…together? In love? Somehow partners and lovers and?—
“You can’t be with someone who you can’t go out into public with. It’s too dangerous. It’s dangerous for your heart, and for your career, and it just doesn’t work.” She shook her head, looking regretfully towards the rough trunk of the tree next to them.
When Catherine finally dragged her eyes back to Jude, she looked right at her, and in her eyes Jude could see all the things she’d hoped and wanted to see. She saw love.
“I think, in a different world,” Catherine said softly, “you and I could be together. We could make dinner together every night, and we’d fight off the bad guys of the world together. But that’s not real life.”
Jude’s chest constricted at these words; Catherine was not wrong. That was not real life.
“So I’m going to say this, and I’m going to say it one time only,” Catherine said, glancing around before she took a step closer and laced her fingers through Jude’s. “I think you’re lovely.” She stood up on her tiptoes and put her lips to Jude’s, kissing her softly—but just for a moment. “When it’s all over for me, I want to know that I said the things I felt, and did the things I should have done. We all want that, Jude.”
Jude stared back at her in wonder. “I think you’re lovely, too,” she said, the words coming from her lips automatically. “I really do.”
“I know.” Catherine was still holding Jude’s hands and she shook them lightly. “But I need to say one more thing, and I think it’s really important for you to hear.” Her eyes searched Jude’s for a moment as they stood there beside the grave of an actor who’d died in the forties, fingers intertwined. “Judy, don’t drown your sorrows anymore, okay? Because sorrow can swim. Trust me.”
Jude nodded. Catherine had seen her at her worst, and she'd put up with all of her idiosyncrasies and insecurities. And, somehow, she'd loved her anyway, which was enough.
It was absolutely enough.
Two weeks later, Jude met Vance at the Burgundy Room and they'd gotten married three months later.
And the rest is history , Jude thinks now, breathing as she holds the phone to her ear and waits to hear what Harrison Watts has to tell her about his search for Catherine.
"Well," Harrison Watts says, "I was able to locate her. My apologies that it took all this time, but it's more difficult than you think to find someone who doesn't necessarily want to be found. Maybe someday there'll be an easy database we can use to access everyone on the planet, but for now, it's just an old-fashioned hunt and search."
"Right, I understand," Jude says, trying to hurry him along.
"Wait, would you rather meet in person?" Watts asks gruffly. "I have an updated photo of her driver's license if you'd like that."
A huge breath escapes from Jude and her chest deflates with relief; Catherine is alive. If she has a current driver's license, she's alive.
"No, I'm happy to just hear for now where she is or whatever you found out, and then maybe you can mail me the information."
"As you wish," Watts says. On the other end of the line, he shuffles some papers and clears his throat. "Okay. Catherine Maryellen Hamnett, who now goes by Cathy M. Pulido. She lives in a small town outside of Las Vegas with a husband, Nestor Pulido. They raise horses and have four children, ages six, four, two, and three months. Cathy is, by all accounts, a farm woman and a full-time mother. I was able to send one of my associates who is located in Nevada to Blue Diamond--that's the town she lives in--and we got photos of her on horseback. Quite lovely," he adds as an aside. "You might want those ones."
Jude nearly laughs out loud at the joy of hearing that Catherine is alive and well and raising four children and riding horses in some small town called Blue Diamond. "Wow," she says, shaking her head. "Just wow."
"I love a story that ends well," Watts says with little emotion. "Happy we could track your friend down for you."
"I'm scared to see the bill for the work, but I'm happy, too," Jude says. "Really happy."
"Alright then. I'll get the photos and the information in the mail to you this afternoon, along with a bill for my services."
"Thank you, Mr. Watts," Jude says. "I appreciate all your hard work."
Jude floats through the rest of the day on a cloud, daydreaming about Catherine and her life in Blue Diamond. She feels nothing but joy to hear that Catherine is doing well, but a pang of wistfulness hits her every so often as she remembers her friend's pretty, young, hopeful face. They'd been not much more than girls together; young women whose futures were still almost entirely unwritten. Inexperienced girls just embarking upon the path to womanhood, entirely uncertain about where they'd end up.
It's a few days later when she opens her mailbox and finds a large manila envelope addressed to her in a scrawling cursive script with a return location in Daytona Beach. Jude holds it, knowing what's inside as she looks at the looping lettering, wondering whether the handwriting belongs to Harrison Watts or to his secretary.
She goes inside, willing herself not to stall any longer.
Standing in the middle of her kitchen while the house is quiet--the girls have been invited to Jo Booker's house for the afternoon to swim and play--Jude holds the envelope reverently. For a split second, she wants to pour a drink before opening it, but the desire passes and she lets it fade and settle around her, as she always does.
Don't drown your sorrows, Judy...sorrow knows how to swim.
Without another thought, Jude tears the envelope open and pulls out its contents: a piece of paper with an address for Cathy Pulido in Blue Diamond, Nevada; an image of Catherine's smiling face from a database of Nevada drivers; and, finally, a black and white 8x10 photo of a blonde woman on horseback. The picture is just as lovely as Harrison Watts had said it was. In it, Catherine sits confidently in the saddle, back straight, head turned sideways. The wind lifts her hair, and she's looking into the sun, clearly unaware that someone is capturing her image. It brings tears to Jude's eyes to see her.
There is one more thing in the pile of documents from the envelope: a folded piece of paper with the distinct scrawl of a man.
Mrs. Majors--
I am happy to send you all of these documents on your friend. Seeing her, I can appreciate your desire to find her once more, or at least to ascertain her safety and happiness.
In our talks, you told me some things about your life that I jotted down, and I hope you won't think it forward of me, but I did a bit of sleuthing of my own accord. In that poking around, I found your mother, who I know you did not ask me to locate specifically, but I wanted to.
No one should be left wondering how and where their parents are. In my vast experience, life is far too short for that.
As it turns out, Keiko Nagasaki gave birth to a son named Rodney in 1953, which means you have a little brother--congratulations! Following is her last known address in Honolulu. I wish you all the best in finding her, or I hope that it simply brings you comfort to know that she's alive and well.
Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any further need for my investigative services.
All my best--
Harrison Watts
Jude reads the letter a second and a third time, feeling stunned each time her eyes graze over her mother's name. And she has a brother? A brother who is twelve years old? A brother roughly the same age as Jo Booker's son...or Maxine's son, Ryan! She simply cannot wrap her mind around it.
In spite of the heat, Jude takes a glass of water out and sits next to the pool, still holding all the papers and photos in her hands as she sits on the hot concrete and dips her bare feet in the cool water.
She goes through the photos and the information on Catherine one more time and then slips it all back into the envelope, which she'll put away somewhere safe and only take out when she needs a reminder that she was once young, once naive; that at one point, her story was still largely unwritten. And her life could have gone so many directions! She could have stayed in Hollywood. She could have forged a life with Catherine (but could she really have? She'll never know for certain...). She might have taken any number of paths that wouldn't have led her to the Burgundy Room on that October evening, where she met Vance Majors and cemented the life she's currently living right now.
All of it is okay now, because Catherine exists, their shared past exists, and the futures that they're creating in their own little universes include marriages and children and horses and beaches and all kinds of things that a young Jude might never have imagined.
She won't contact Catherine; not now, and maybe not ever. And she's okay with that.
But her mother...her mother .
Keiko Nagasaki, last known address: 513 Coconut Avenue, Honolulu, Hawaii. Children: Judith Nagasaki Majors, born April 12, 1934. Rodney Kobayashi, born December 26, 1953.
Jude folds the paper and holds it between her hands as she drags her bare feet and calves through the pool water. This changes everything. There is a feeling of security in knowing that her mother is out there, even if her father no longer is. Keiko is within her reach for the first time in almost twenty-five years, and knowing that brings Jude a kind of anticipation mixed with peace. That's another thing she's had to get used to now that she isn't drinking so much: she feels all these things . All these emotions. And they aren't all bad--some of them feel really good.
Jude looks across the fence at the house where the Tragers lived for two years, and she misses hearing Maxine open the door and call out for her children. She'd done everything she could for Maxine, had tried to understand her fears and her new outlook on life, but in the end, she'd had to accept that Maxine was doing what felt right for her. For her children. For her future. Which, if you think about it, is all anyone really can do--even Jude's own parents did what they felt was best at the time, even if hindsight makes it difficult to understand some of their choices.
Jude stands up with her empty water glass and the envelope in her hand. She stretches towards the sun, closing her eyes as it warms her skin.
The past is securely behind her, and she's learning to live with it. Her present is all around her, and she's now fully awake for it. She's living it.
And the future? Well , she thinks, opening her eyes and looking at her mother's address one more time. My future is still unwritten .