Judging Beauty

The judge had looked with an unfathomable expression in his eyes. His friend had smiled when he saw us, and said something to the judge which caused him to glare at me. Perhaps they were comparing me to Hillary and how different I was from her.

I have gotten to know about Hillary only through hearsay. From the various separate conversations I had in the art of gossip, I gathered that she was successful, quite a head-turner, smart and had captivated Stoner for the past two years. One who held on to Stoner for two years was remarkable enough. She certainly was smart and a force to be reckoned with.

It was none of my business to look at him. My business was Stoner now. We were partners in this project for the reforming of the draconian Act.

"Why did you kiss my hands like that? Are we really dating?" I asked Stoner.

"Bea, would you like to date me?" He asked.

"You do like me a little then?" I asked.

"Dear old Bea, I like you but I hardly know you. I don't even know your name but how is it that the grumpy old judge knows your real name? At the moment let us just enjoy each other's company. Let our relationship take its full course naturally. Why rush things?" He asked.

"I don't see why you had put up a show of display in court and just now in front of the judges when you don't mean it." I said.

"And I don't see why, Bea, that you didn't bother to tell me your real name." Stoner said.

"But I have already told you, Stoner, that I don't use my real name. Why should it matter? A name is just a name. To quote Shakespeare :

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose,

By any other name would smell as sweet." I said.

"Stop that, Bea. You think you're so smart, don't you? You made me look stupid in front of the judges. I was a fool there because my girl never told me her real name. I am supposed to know everything that is going on given my reputation." Stoner said.

"I don't use it. You know how silly it sounds to people. As a lawyer, I won't be taken seriously." I said.

"Why is it then your judge gets the full privilege of knowing? Even when he made you cry, Bea..." Stoner retorted back.

He sounded possessive and jealous of the judge.

"Because when he introduced himself, he told me his full name. So I did with mine too. It was automatic. I did not give it a second thought. But with you...it's different. I want to impress you." I said, heaving out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah. Right. Shall we start on lunch?" Stoner asked.

Our lunch came but I barely ate. I felt sick. Stoner did like me a little but he was hurt that he did not know my real name.

Yet lying dormant but alive in my heart was the thought that he was probably working the circuit with other women lawyers as well.

After lunch, I had to check in to office for the first time today. However everything in me told me to make it up to Stoner. Outside the Rubik Cube, there stood a little stall selling trinkets. It was most likely a stall set up without a proper licence. Impermanent until an enforcement officer issues the operator a summons.

A small, dark string necklace caught my eye. It had a little stone pendant on which the words "Trust" were inscribed. Instinctively I purchased the pendant and gave it to Stoner.

"Let us trust each other to know each other better?" I said, more of a question which I hoped he would answer.

"Trust..." Stoner said, while latching the necklace around his neck, and tugging it into his shirt.

Now it was unseen by the eye.

"Trust..." I said, looking at the collar of his shirt and slightly lower where the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.

Trust was now leaning at his heart. It was up to him to embrace that for me.

I must have been deeply caffeinated by the black coffee during lunch. After Stoner and I said our goodbyes, some erratic gut feeling told me to square it out with the judge. I was losing the eligible bachelor of the century. I would not let go now that there was some chance of us being together. Little does it, step by step.

I still had the courtesy to knock on his door. I felt like I was about to commit a premeditated crime. He certainly did not expect to see me raging with hurt and betrayal at his childish behaviour.

He was standing at his table studying some documents.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you? Nobody calls me Beauty. Nobody but the deluded you. I thought that we had already made up. Why can't you just let me be? I did not report on you! What are your motives?" I yelled.

I strode to his table in a dash. I wanted to punch his chest. It was payback time. I was not going to keep quiet while he bullied me. I was not going to let him touch me ever again. He cannot take advantage of me again. I was not going to let him abandon my favourite feather pillow. Most of all, I was not going to let him affect my sleeping time.

I leaned over the imposing table as far as I could. While my body bent like a gymnast against the barrier of wood; my right hands were obstinately curled up into a ball while my left hand gripped the sides of the smooth table. How far had I stretched. I made a go at his chest.

I punched him there, as hard as I could. Before I could have another go, he grabbed my right wrists; in the process, throwing me off balance from my precarious position at the front of the table. I stumbled and almost fell had he not caught me in the nick of time.

He caught me hard. Rushing forward to my side of the table while still gripping my wrists, I was thrown unceremoniously into his chest.

For a while, I lay there. Then I used my free hand to pound on his chest, but he held me with his other hand.

We said not a word. I struggled to be free from his grasps.

"Let me go, Greg!" I said sharply.

"When you're angry, you call me Greg. Finally. What else does it take you to get angry, you prim and proper creature?" He asked.

He freed me of his grasp. He took off his coat and flung it on his chair to reveal a white linen shirt.

"It's better if you punch me without the coat on. The coat absorbs quite a bit of the impact. I barely felt a thing." He said.

I gave a cry of indifference.

"Go on if it makes you feel better." He urged me.

I stared at him.

"Did you not hear? I said; go and punch me now. Do it properly." He yelled.

My hands went at lightning speed towards his chest. I had longed so much to punch him and bruise him. It was almost there. Yet I stopped midway. I baffled myself. Until today I have no inkling why I stopped short of the second punch.

My hands were there all right but they ended up sprawled on his chest. I could feel his heart beating in quick, irregular paces. I moved closer towards him.

I curled my hand into a ball again. I pounded on him softly. I could not hurt him anymore. I just could not.

I was a good person. This is me. I was so angry just now that I thought I could. I did punch him once. It was enough.

I had calmed down and came to myself. My breath slowed as I looked into his eyes.

"I can't. I'm done. I'm satisfied." I stammered.

He looked down at me. Silence filled the air. In quiet grace, he took my stubbornly curled hands and shoved it to his chest.

"Beauty, I honestly did not know that Stoner did not know your real name. You might not believe me but hear my heart out. Can you feel its' beats there? It is true, every word I say." He said.

My hands against his chest; I felt his throbbing heart beating unsteadily. Its' beats were quick and I felt my hands sting with each beat.

"You make me confused." I said.

"I am confused." He said.

Silence loomed in the chambers again. I heard the steady ticking of the clock on the wall and felt the beats of his heart. Too much beating, too much ticking; I was surely out of my mind today.

"I'll tell you now that I never had the intention to report your wrongdoings to the authorities. I never had, so you need not have tried to pretend to be friends with me overnight. I keep to my word. I mean what I say. I'm not a bad person, Greg. You need not have done anything to silence me." I said.

He looked at me; the blue in his eyes suddenly bright.

"I trust you, Beauty. It's only myself that I don't trust." He said.

An aching trepidation crept in the both of us.

He bent his head lower and raised my chin with his other hand. We were absorbed into each other. The world ceased to exist. Then he gave me a huge bear hug, squeezing me tight. In his embrace, I felt a tingling sense of warmth.

"Friends, Beauty?" He asked me very softly.

"Yes, Greg." I said.

"Call me Bea then. All my friends call me Bea." I said.

"But Beauty just suits you. I've started our torrid acquaintance by calling you Beauty. I hope to make it up to you the same way it began. Thus I humbly ask you - may I be spared the name change? I have other reasons if you want to hear them." He said.

"Yes, I believe it is in my interest to know." I said.

"Your boyfriend Stoner mentioned Beauty and the Beast. I can't help thinking that I am the beast here. You are a beautiful person, Beauty, on the inside and outside. I am the beast. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm blessed by an angel." He said.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, Greg. Seriously, after the punch, I think you got off rather badly. You're concussed. We are not living a fairy tale!" I exclaimed.

"It's difficult to explain, Beauty, when I do not comprehend it myself. Just bear with me if you could. Maybe someday I'll call you what you want to be called." He said.

"If you say so, Greg." I acquiesced, lost in the blue of his eyes.

"Are you sure that you don't have a concussion? How do you feel?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Almost perfect." He answered.

"Why not totally perfect?" I asked.

After giving him my assurance that I would not exploit his wrongdoings, surely he would be on top of the world.

He shrugged his shoulders but gave me a warm smile.

A déjà vu locked us in a time warp. As he did a few days ago, he tucked my unruly hair behind my ears. As he did with this gentle gesture, my ears tingled; setting my heart a-flutter.

I paid no attention to the time. He was so engaging. He did not say anything but he made his presence felt everywhere he went. It was true the Lord Justice Greg Rhodes was an enigmatic personality.

"Stoner was not happy with me because of what you said. He felt that I didn't trust him enough." I spoke, as a matter of fact.

There was no hint of malice in my voice towards the judge. I could not explain why I felt comfortable enough to look upon him as an advisory figure within so short a space of time.

Add another five years to him and he would be as old as my father. Maybe that explains it.

With his fingers, he brushed the top of my hair to the nape of my neck, smoothing out the ballerina bun. Then he spoke, his voice reassuring.

"It takes time to build trust. Both parties have to trust one another. It cannot be one-sided. If your relationship can withstand the passage of time, then you both have earned the trust and respect from one another." He had said.

"How would I know when that happens?" I asked.

He smiled but shook his head.

"Your heart will tell you. So will your head if you choose to use it properly." He said.

I felt he was mocking me.

"Are you mocking me?" I asked.

"Are you going to the right person for advice?" He asked me in reply.

"Given your worldly experience and position, surely there is a duty of care?" I shot back in legal terms.

I saw that the blue in his eyes came with a hint of olive green in certain light. The fluorescent tube was glaring, yet the blue-green in this enigmatic personality was bright yet translucent. Now you see it, and now you do not.

"After the incident with your witness, surely I'm serving my own motives, don't you think?" He asked.

"What then, is your motive?" I asked.

Again, we had gone into question time mode. I was getting a little dizzy in my head.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I may be attracted to you?" He asked.

I was not sure if I heard the question right. When I did think I heard it right, I wondered if he was playing the fool with me.

He gazed straight into my entirety. He was solemn.

"Is that for better or for worse?" I asked softly.

I looked at him, perplexed. My fingers trailed my lips. I bit my nails hard. The moment I did so, I realised my immaturity and clasped my fingers on my black handbag.

He meant to say something. I saw his lips quiver but words did not follow. His expression grew tense and troubled.

"Don't say anything. I know the answer." I answered for myself, upon studying his disposition.

"Beauty, I meant to say I appreciate that we are friends." He said.

He reached to my hand that was clutching my handbag and grasped it warmly.

"Me too." I said.

He changed the topic. How quickly he had done that. He led the conversation based on his terms. He knew my deepest desires for my career and of my inability to break out of the rut I was in. How could he have known? I must have been out there like an open book for everyone to see.

"Beauty, if litigation experience is what you want, do speak to Joseph about it. I'm sure he would let teach you the ropes of advocacy if you assure him that you'll still do the work required of you." The judge said.

"Right now, drafting cause papers takes up nearly all my time. How would he ever agree? I do write defences which lead to acquittals and he relies heavily on this." I said.

"He would, when he sees how keen you are. After all, he knows that he can't afford to lose you should you resign. You are his secret weapon." He said.

I was deliberating there and then whether it was a good idea.

"What if I don't make it in court? Should I perform miserably..." I said.

"You'll not fail. Have more confidence in yourself. You are stronger than you think you are. I'll teach you how to handle a judge as well." He said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"All judges are different." I said.

"We have certain unspoken rules that we normally don't tell lawyers." He said.

"Ah, I see." I said.

Then we said our goodbyes. I was two hours late for work. Luckily Joseph was not in. He had left for an afternoon trial in the Supreme Court of Rhine. However the supporting employees in office were quick to comment on my lateness. I knew sooner or later, this news of my flagrant disregard to my new-found independence would reach Joseph's ears. I left a short message on Joseph's mobile apologizing that I was late. I stated that I was late because of a complex legal aid issue.

Perhaps I had hardened to some extent. This was a lie. Yet I felt no remorse like I normally did whenever I told a lie. Something changed in me that day. I felt being pulled with half-hearted protests to the dark side. The rest of the way I was a voluntary accomplice. This realization hurt me more than the lie itself.

That night, I managed to claim my pillow back. I slept soundly. The earlier recollections of his gentle touches on my ear became assurances of our unconventional friendship.

...

In one month, I had finished the article that Stoner wanted. He was happy with it and with his illuminating influence, he got the Bar Association to publish the article immediately. In the following month, he called to inform me that he had gathered enough activists comprising of supporters and lawyers for the Walk of Peace which he was organizing, part of the on-going freedom movement. He urged me to join them.

I agreed to join them. I was happy. Stoner and I met almost every day to discuss the progress as a result of the article. We went out to fancy restaurants every night. He flirted with me and I found it exciting. I laughed a lot. I never felt this alive in my entire life. We got to know each other better. I knew what he liked and disliked and vice-versa. It seemed like we were old friends. I could not invite him to my home for I was still living with my parents. I did not want to explain myself to them. He could not invite me to his apartment because Rhine was too far away. I would have to spend the night there, and rush to work early the next morning.

Stoner was an experienced lover. He liked to play the Casanova. He planted me a kiss here and there; slowly but seductively. Since we were always in a restaurant, there was only so much we could do without behaving improperly.

I had good restful nights too.

Often when the moon emitted a warm glow and when its rays shone on my bed from the window, I thought about the erratic judge. I felt fuzzy and warm to have made peace with him. I did not see him during the wonderful months I spent with Stoner. There were also no court demands from Joseph.

...

The day before the Walk of Peace, I received a call on my office phone from the judge. He wanted to know if I was walking. He had read the mass e-mail forwarded online to all lawyers in the country. I answered in the affirmative.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Beauty. Police will fire tear gas and water cannons. Some people could behave rowdily." He said.

"I had already promised Stoner. I'm going to support him. A promise is a promise. The same way I promised you that I would not tell on you with your secret." I said indignantly.

I just wanted to make a point to him that a promise was a promise.

He was silent and in a grave voice said, "With you so unwavering with your promises, I hope that you did not undertake many of them from the wrong parties."

"I have only promised Stoner. Nobody knows that I am going to walk. " I said.

"Politics and the law are two different spectrums, Beauty. Politics in our country triumph over the law. It might not be safe to walk." He said rather forcefully.

"I'll take my chances. I'll be fine, don't worry." I said.

Was he really concerned about me or was it because of something more sinister?

"I never told anyone your confession. I'll bring it to the grave. Are you worried that I should blurt out to some stranger?" I asked.

"No...Shall we meet for dinner tonight?" He asked.

"I have an appointment with Stoner but I could do lunch. But I don't want to go to the Rubik Cube." I said.

"Fine, Beauty. Pick a place. I want to talk to you." He said.

We exchanged mobile numbers for the first time. I chose a quaint little café in the outskirts of town away from the lawyers' haunt. I did not want them to see us lunching together. Word might go to Stoner and he was quite possessive of me. I also knew how much he disliked the judge.

The judge shook my hands for an eternity it seemed. It had been three months since we last met and we had no contact until he called me on the office line.

"Stoner can get carried away. You should not go for the Walk. I'm sure you did enough for him. Why did you write such a strongly worded article?" He asked me.

The judge fished out the Bar Journal which he brought with him and showed it to me. I skimmed through the article and everything seemed fine to me until the last page where Stoner had added in his own thoughts. It was not what I expected.

Stoner had condemned the government and the police, especially the Special Force which oversees intelligence matters. He accused the government of bribery, corruption and racism. He had praises for opposition parties. He wanted to start his own revolution. He called for a takeover of parliament. He called for the country to be declared a state of emergency pending fresh elections. He was so radical I was in shock. He did not seem like that in person. It was all a front which he put up for this freedom struggle.

I had called for the Act to be reformed but never had I criticised any governmental structure. It is already known that words of dissent had to be done mildly and indirectly so as not to arouse arrest under the Act. We had limited freedom of speech and expression in this country.