Pam of Babylon (17 page)

“Ben will take you home. I must think about everything. You understand?” Sandra was taken aback.
Acceptance must run in this family.
Silly or not, Pam was the most understanding woman she had ever met, and now Jack’s mother, showing such graciousness in the face of her son’s sexual misconduct with a girl young enough to be his daughter.

“Thank you for this afternoon; it was really lovely. I am grateful for your kindness,” Sandra said. Bernice walked her to the car, the driver standing there with the door open, and Bernice kissed her cheek before she got in.

“Goodbye, my dear. Please call me tomorrow, okay? Promise!” Sandra replied, “Yes, of course. Goodbye, Bernice.”

The car sped out of the driveway. The driver seemed to know right where to go, wasting no time. She was at her door in five minutes. She said goodbye to him and ran to her door. He watched her until she was safely inside.

When her apartment door closed, she was flooded with relief. The stress of the meeting would be apparent later in the night, when she couldn’t sleep.
Would Bernice be on the phone with Pam this very minute, telling her the news that her husband would be a father again?
The derision of Pam by those who were supposed to love her was difficult to bear. Sandra fell on the couch in a stupor, with her head thrown back and legs sprawled apart. She wondered why she hadn’t stayed in that afternoon. She sat up and put her head in her hands. Then she looked up at the ceiling.
Was this yet another part of the plan for her life?

Running into Jack’s mother like that…
It wasn’t even running into her! She had sought me out on the street. How did she even remember me from the funeral? Did she have a premonition about me when she saw me that day? Why would she cross Broadway, risking her life, and chase me down in Big Nick’s?
Sandra would never forget that first glance as she looked up from her menu and saw the elegant woman standing there, so completely out of place in that greasy restaurant, dressed in a beige silk suit, perfectly groomed. Sandra shuddered to think what she must have thought of her own getup—spandex, denim, and a straw hat, for God’s sake.
Oh well, what a hell of a day.

21

T
he cab pulled up in the front of Marie’s building. She wasn’t sure where she was. Sandra must have paid the driver because he didn’t say anything to her but “Here you are.”
Had she even told him where she lived?

She opened the door and got out of the cab. Slowly, she made her way up to the door of her apartment building, barely having the strength to open it. She got into the elevator and pushed her floor button, feeling like she was under water. Even the sound of the elevator motor was distant, muted. She wondered if she was having a nervous breakdown. Stumbling into her apartment, she was suddenly stricken with a stomachache so ferocious that it could only mean she must get to the bathroom immediately.

When she was finished, she was so glad she had made it home, because if that had come across her in the cab, she would have shit all over the place. She wondered what the hell was wrong. Then she remembered that she never got any food when she went out. Here she was, ill, both physically and mentally, in an apartment in Midtown with no food. There was literally nothing to eat. She would call in a favor. God knew she was always available to anyone who needed her, and now, she was in need. She picked up her phone and keyed in her mother’s number first. Nelda answered on the first ring.

“Mom, I’m sick. I need you to get on a bus and come here.” She tried not to sound whiney.

“What’s wrong with you?” Her mother was a bundle of sympathy. “It’s going to be dark soon. What on earth would I do to make you feel better?”

“Mom, I just need you to come here. I’m lightheaded, I have diarrhea, and there is nothing to eat here. I was out, trying to shop and had to take a cab home.” No point in telling her the truth, and it was almost true.

“Just drink water and go to bed. For heaven’s sake, Marie! Why do you let yourself run out of food anyway?” It was clear Nelda was not going to budge from Brooklyn.

“Thank you, Mother! I knew I could count on you.” She hung up without saying goodbye. But she did feel better already.
Goddamn it, there has to be something to eat in this house!
She went into the kitchen and started opening cupboards. She saw a bottle of wine. It was unchilled, but it would do.

While Marie was fixing her liquid dinner, uptown, Sandra was putting away the contents of the bag of goodies Bernice Smith had insisted she take with her.

There were foil packages of sandwiches and little cakes, several baggies of homemade cookies, plastic containers of Jell-O salad with fruit, and what looked like sandwich filling. There was also a foil-wrapped loaf of homemade bread. She decided to assemble a lunch for herself tomorrow. In the morning, it might seem like too much trouble. She took the already-made sandwiches and baggie of cookies and put them in a brown paper sack and stuck it back in the fridge. Then she put the teakettle on.
One more cup before bedtime
, she thought. She was exhausted, but it was a ritual she wasn’t about to skip. She needed all the comfort she could right now. Jack didn’t drink tea, and now she was glad. It wasn’t something that would have one bit of association with him.

She picked up the phone and saw that Pam had called her. Jack’s family was starting to get on her nerves. She decided to delay the return call until the next day. She would call her from work; it would give her a chance to hang up if things got dicey.

Going into her bedroom while the kettle heated up, she got out her clothes for work. She took a navy-blue suit out of the closet. Still covered in a cleaner’s bag, there were warnings printed all over it to keep it away from babies as it was a suffocation danger. She shuddered. There would be all kinds of new dangers heretofore unheeded.

She thought about her own well-being. She would be more careful from now on about eating and not skipping meals. She had a hot flash of fear, wondering how many glasses of wine she drank in the past several weeks. She sat down and started counting.
Oh God, please
, she thought,
don’t let anything be wrong with the baby
. She decided to call her gynecologist first thing in the morning and make an appointment. It might be early, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

The teakettle started whistling. She had her lunch ready, her clothes were laid out, and her tea was made. She could sit up in bed and write in her journal, for God knew she had enough for several entries. She wanted to document all the coincidences that had happened that “brought her to this place.” That phrase was her mantra. She would try not to complain about anything from this day forward; it was all part of the plan.

22

B
ernice closed the door after she saw Sandra off. Mildred was in the garden cleaning up after the coffee. She told her she was going up to bed. The stairs seemed so steep that night. It was her age creeping up on her. She promised herself she would work extra hard at the gym the next day. There was no room for decrepitude now. A new grandchild would be coming in nine months. She wanted to be available to care for him or her in every way.

She giggled.
What was dear Pam going to say when the news of the baby came to her ears?
Bernice couldn’t think of a nicer person to have this happen to. She thought of her daughter-in-law, mistaking her shyness with snobbery, even after all of these years, not knowing her character at all.
It would serve her right.
Once in her room, she closed the door behind her. Framed pictures of her men adorned the fireplace mantel. She picked up Jack’s picture and took it with her to her chair. She sat down with it in her lap, running her hand across the glass, tracing his face with her fingertip. She held it up to look at it, and in a clear, soft voice, she said to the image of her dead son, “Touché.”

23

M
onday morning, day of new beginnings. Pam was already sick of the phrase and did her best to banish it from her thoughts and her speech. She felt horrible when she got up. Going through her routine early, before the sun was fully up, she realized how much she had underestimated her capacity for grief. She was able to go through the motions of life, taking care of her physical needs, but there it stopped. She would have to force herself through her day.

Her anger at Jack’s infidelity would ebb and flow. She lay in bed the night before with similar visions of Jack and Sandra that Marie had; a beautiful, youthful body embraced by Jack. She imagined his muscular arms, the same arms that carried her to their marriage bed again and again, carrying Sandra. Sandra wouldn’t need to keep the lights down low to keep the focus off of her aging body. The visions made Pam ill, and she punched her pillow and demanded they be gone! She was glad she was going to be busy Monday.

The most important act that day would be the reading of the will. She knew what it looked like superficially. Jack’s mother and brother had no need for his money. He would leave the bulk of what they had to her, keep the trusts for the kids intact, and give something to Marie to take the pinch off working, but not eliminate the need for it altogether.
She should work for a living
. Other than that, the only real snare left to untangle would be the company. Jack owned half of it, and Peter owned the other half. They had never spoken about what it would mean if he died. There must be something in the corporation papers that would be revealed when necessary.

She needed to be at the lawyers by nine, plenty of time to go to the gym first. She wanted to be out of the house when the cleaning lady and her entourage showed up. At least her morning would be occupied.

Across the world, what was left of her family was starting their day as well. Her mother was puttering around her kitchen, preparing her coffee and breakfast, avoiding the phone, which had started ringing at daybreak. She knew Marie was angry that her mother had ignored her cry for help, and it would be a tough day trying to get out of talking to her. She didn’t put it past her daughter to make a surprise visit to Brooklyn to harass her.

Nelda was tired. She raised four daughters, and three of them married—well, now two of them; Pam was a widow at such a young age. Susan and Sharon were happily married and had lovely husbands and children. And then there was Marie. She should have never had her. One more child about did her in. From the get go, Marie was a clingy, needy kid. Fortunately, Pam, her eldest, loved her like her own from the beginning. Nelda was able to easily resume her life with all the assistance Pam gave her with the new baby.

When Marie needed a parent, after a fall or something happening at school, she wanted Pam. Friends would ask, “Does it bother you that the child goes to her sister instead of you?” And she could frankly say no. When Pam met Jack, everyone knew they would get married right away.
They were so young!
And Marie was furious, crying, clinging to Pam. She was inconsolable at the wedding shower, refusing to participate in the games, whining and yelling if anyone came near her. And, of course, rather than spanking her ass as the other girls would have had done to them, her father and sister caved, promising her she could go see the newlyweds every weekend.

Nelda could never understand how Pam could tolerate that intrusion of privacy. Nelda fought with her husband passionately about it, but nothing changed. Once Pam got married, Marie practically moved in with her and Jack. During the week, when she was at home, the only leverage Nelda had was the threat that if Marie didn’t behave, there would be no trip into the city for the weekend. And she used it to her best advantage. That kid had the neatest room, the highest grades, and the most perfect behavior. But when Friday came, she was history. Either Jack or Pam would pick Marie up after school and take her back into town. They would always stop in and see Nelda first, which was lovely. Then there would be peace and quiet for the weekend. However, occasionally Nelda would want Marie to stay home for a family outing. The repercussions would be horrible. Again, the only leverage would be the threat that if she didn’t cooperate and be on her best behavior with a smile on her face, she wouldn’t go back to Pam’s for a very long time.

Nelda could see the error of that now. There was something not totally right about the whole Pam-Jack-Marie thing, but as yet, nothing had come to light. Her daughter was trying her best to manipulate her mother, but it would never happen. Nelda was too strong for that. If any nighttime forays would take place, they would be to Long Island to help out Pam. It would be interesting to see how the dynamic would change now that Jack was gone.
Would Marie still cling to Pam? Or had it been only Jack who was the attraction?
Time would soon tell.