Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (16 page)

Marie followed her mother into the sitting area and slowly lowered herself onto the cushion. Nelda could see the bones of Marie’s pelvis through the back of her sweatpants. Her heart started pounding. This was more than anorexia. “Here’s an afghan,” Nelda said, covering her. “Do you want the TV on?” But Marie had put her head back and closed her eyes. Nelda looked around the room for a telephone; there was one on a small dresser in the hallway entrance. She quietly walked into the back of the apartment, not noticing much about it except it seemed clean enough. She punched in the numbers to Pam.

Seeing it was Steve’s number, Pam answered on the first ring.

“What the hell happened here?” Nelda whispered, the unaccustomed cursing evidence of her concern.

“I know, Mother. That’s why you needed to be there.

What condition is she in today?” Pam didn’t want to divulge more than was necessary, unless Marie was in agreement.

“She couldn’t even pour her own glass of water because she couldn’t figure out the faucet. What’s wrong with her?” The magnitude of what it could be was lurking in Nelda’s mind, but she didn’t know the cause.
Had Marie lost her mind
? she thought in her simplicity. Pam decided to stick to basic facts.

“She has some kind of brain infection, Mother. Steve brought here for the weekend, and half the time I’m not sure she knew where she was. She had a doctor’s appointment this morning.” Pam’s concern was growing; the temptation to start worrying about what was going to happen was strong. They should really start making some kind of arrangements for Marie’s care.

“Oh no, that sounds so awful. How did she get a brain infection? It doesn’t make any sense. Why isn’t she in the hospital?” Nelda often revealed her intellect at the worst possible time.

“The hows and whys are not important, Mother. Who knows? The doctor said she is too vulnerable to stay in the hospital because of resistant bacteria or something like that, so they’re going to treat her at home. A visiting nurse is supposed to come by later this evening to start an IV and give her some drugs.” Nelda’s anxiety was transferring to Pam.
What the hell are we going to do about Marie?

“Mom, I’m hungry!” Marie yelled. She’d roused out of her somnolence long enough to feel pain in her stomach.

“Let me go; she’s calling for food,” Nelda told Pam. They said good-bye.

Pam hoped that in her stupor, Marie would reveal all to her mother and therefore take the burden of proof off Pam.

Nelda set about doing nurturing tasks for her youngest daughter, who would drift in and out of sleep for the rest of the afternoon. When Steve got home, Nelda cornered him without mercy. “What is going on?” she demanded. “My daughter can’t even bathe herself.”

Steve was backed up against a wall, literally. “Hi, my name is Steve. Who are you?”

Nelda visibly relaxed and gave a rare laugh. She stuck out her hand to shake his. “I’m Marie’s mother, Nelda Fabian. I’m sorry. This is just such a shock. No one told me she’d been sick.” She turned and went back into the sitting area to see if Marie was still sleeping, pulling the afghan up around boney shoulders. “I know from just the few hours I was here today that she can’t stay home alone.” Nelda turned to look at him. “I’d like to take her home with me, to the mansion. I’m sure Pam will agree. You are welcome to come, too, of course.”

The offer was so welcome that Steve fought the urge to embrace Nelda, whose reputation for being a cold bitch preceded her visit. But the truth was that if Marie was so bad that Nelda was bathing her, her AIDS status needed to be revealed as well as the pregnancy.
This is turning out to be a huge cluster fuck. What the hell did I do to deserve this?

Pam and Steve spoke briefly on the phone and agreed that Nelda needed to be told the truth if she was willing to care for her daughter. But who would do it? Pam didn’t want to, but she didn’t think it was fair to unload the task on Steve. In the end, they decided to get Marie to do it in one of her lucid moments, which occurred throughout the day. He walked out into the kitchen where Nelda was making tea. Marie was up, sitting at the table, looking better.

“My mom’s here,” she said to Steve, winking at him. “Surprise, surprise.”

Nelda wasn’t laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. “I come when I’m needed.”

Marie decided to cut her a break. “Yeah, you do most of the time. So how’d work go, Steve? Who’s going to take my projects?” They chatted about business for a few minutes, Steve putting her mind at ease.

“I’ve got your back, honey. Don’t worry about work.” Nelda listened to the exchange and it brought tears to her eyes. It was obvious that Steve cared for her daughter.

“So I think we should tell your mom our news, Marie.” Steve walked around to the back of her chair and hugged her.

Marie looked up at him, fear and a little confusion mixed together. “You do? Oh boy,” she said.

Nelda was frozen in place. Steve placed his hand over Marie’s sunken belly while Nelda looked on, stunned. She figured it out right away; Marie had to be pregnant.
Great!
Nelda thought.
Pregnant and a brain infection! How much worse could this get? One daughter with AIDS and now a pregnant imbecile.

Marie looked up to speak to Nelda. But by the look on Nelda’s face, a grimace almost, even a confused Marie got it that her mother was on to her. “Well, did you figure it out, Mom? I’m pregnant! Forty-five, fucked up, and pregnant. But I’m happy about it and want the baby, so don’t start with your negative crap.”

“I would
never
say anything negative about a baby on its way! If you had asked me when you were trying, I may have advised against it, but not after it’s already there. You must have me confused with someone else.” She stood at the sink folding a towel, observing her daughter.

Marie wasn’t finished though. “Yeah, well it wasn’t like we were trying, okay? I didn’t
set out to get pregnant
, if that’s what you’re driving at.” She looked up at Steve and smiled. “Stevie, I think now is as good a time as any to break the
other news.
” Steve took a step toward her. He was not sure why but he had the impulse to clamp his hand across her mouth.

Nelda saw the gesture and felt his intention and she started to laugh. “Oh, my! I know exactly what you’re feeling. You don’t know how many times I have wanted to shove a sock down that throat just to shut her up!” What she had just revealed embarrassed her; she didn’t intend to expose such an intimate and negative feeling to a complete stranger.

Marie frowned. “Thanks, Mom. Maybe that’s why I grew up at Pam’s house.”

Fortunately, she stopped there. Steve was panicstricken, wanting Nelda to take Marie with her. If AIDS or HIV or Jack, the child molester, were brought up, they’d never leave.

“I think it’s more important to get you settled uptown. We can continue this conversation there, okay you two?” Steve urged Marie to get up. “Come on, you can’t go out dressed like this.” Nelda watched him but didn’t offer to help.
There’s more here than meets the eye
, she thought, suspicious. The couple disappeared back into their bedroom.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Your mother is going to nurse you back to health up in that mansion. The life of Riley!” he said cryptically.

Marie started pouting. “I don’t want to go up there. I want to stay with you.” she raised her arms up while he pulled her sweatshirt off.

“I was invited. But you can’t stay here alone during the day,” he explained. “Let’s try it out tonight and if you really hate it, I’ll come and get you after work tomorrow. That might be a plan. You can stay up there while I work.” They pulled a few things together, a book she was reading and her makeup bag and a few clothes. He’d bring up more of her things later. They walked out to the kitchen together, Marie looking slightly better in clean clothes, but still in need of a major weight gain. Nelda couldn’t believe that Marie’s decrepit frame could maintain a pregnancy.

“I’ll drive us up in Marie’s car so we can leave it there, if that’s okay. We only have street parking here,” Steve said. “Should we call and announce our intentions?”

“Good idea,” Nelda said. “Can I have the phone?” Steve retrieved the phone and Nelda called and spoke with Mildred. She would get a room ready for Marie.

Steve stashed everything in the trunk of Marie’s car. Nelda and Marie sat in the back seat, silent. Steve looked at them in the rearview mirror; mother and daughter had the same facial structure and although Nelda wasn’t a bad looking woman, compared to her daughter, she was gorgeous. Marie’s illness was ravaging her appearance.

They arrived at the mansion and Nelda instructed Steve to drive through the gate to the private entrance at the back of the house; the door the help used. He wondered if she was being cagy because her daughter looked so bad. A uniformed man, probably their driver, was waiting, along with a younger woman in surgical scrubs. Nelda introduced them as Ben and Candy. Candy got Steve’s attention and he hung back as Mildred and Nelda helped Marie into the house.

“Miss Pam called a few minutes ago. She told me about Marie having AIDS. I don’t see any reason for the rest of the household to have that information, okay? I didn’t know if you already mentioned it to Nelda or intended on doing so?” Candy asked.

Steve shook his head no. “If Marie wants to divulge it to her mother, she can do that in her own time. I wanted to get her settled first. Are you a nurse?” He was clearly confused. Who else worked here?

“No, I’m Mrs. Smith’s personal care assistant, but I worked as a nurse’s aide at Lenox Hill for years,” she explained. “There’s plenty of time for all revelations to be made.”

He followed her into the house, looking around in amazement at the space. His entire apartment would fit in the kitchen alone. Mildred led the entourage through the expansive house and up a daunting staircase to a bedroom at the top. It was a generic guest room, but comfortable, and Nelda’s room was across the hall so she would be available if necessary. Marie would have her own bathroom, with bulbous, old-fashioned fixtures and a giant stained-glass window above the tub. It was very church-like.

Marie looked around at the high ceilings and ornate moldings, the damask drapery, and satin bedcovers. “I feel like you guys are preparing for me to die,” Marie said.

Bernice joined the group and they all murmured placations. Only Steve stayed silent.
Why am I leaving her here? Is it only because she needs care during the day? Or is it her last resting place before she dies?
His thoughts unnerved him and he stepped forward, grabbing her and hugging her. This was his Marie. “Oh God, no! Don’t even say that! We want you to be safe and taken care of so you’ll get better. When the baby comes, you want to be able to take care of him yourself, don’t you?” He looked down at her, staring into her eyes. She looked so awful, emaciated, and haggard. He had to choke back the tears.

But Marie was slick. She might not let on that she knew what the MO was. She played dumb so that Steve could go home and get some rest before another day at work. As far as her mother was concerned, she planned to run her to death. Her mother would be the scapegoat for the years of abuse at the hand of Jack, and all the detritus he left behind.

.

21

P
am called the mansion after eight for an update from Candy. Marie was resting comfortably in her new room, calling out orders and requests so that Nelda hadn’t stopped since they’d arrived. She’d eaten a substantial dinner and was watching TV and talking on the phone to Steve, who’d left a while ago, taking the subway back downtown. Breathing a sigh of relief, Pam felt like she could put Marie aside now and deal with her own issues for a while, the most pressing being Dave from Organic Bonanza. She paced, attempting to formulate a narrative to use when she called him. She made a cup of tea and took it into her bedroom, sitting on the chaise with the tea nearby and the phone in her hand. He hadn’t called her since their discussion regarding Jeff Babcock. She punched in Dave’s number and sat back waiting for him to answer.

“Hello. I wondered if you were going to call tonight,” he said with just a hint of accusation.

“Yes, I’m sorry; I had a problem with my sister today. She’s too ill to be left alone while her boyfriend goes to work, so I had to call my mother to go downtown. Once she got there, she determined that my sister needs her care around the clock. So I’ve basically been on the phone for the past four hours,” she explained.

“How old’s your sister?” Dave asked, confused.

“Forty-five,” Pam answered, worried that any explanation she offered that didn’t include AIDS or pregnancy would sound defensive. But she kept silent. It was bad enough that he knew about her physical condition without exposing her sister’s, too.

“Why do you need to run interference for your forty-five-year-old sister?” he asked.

She was silent for a moment. Why indeed? “She’s too ill to make wise decisions right now. It’s just what our family does for each other,” she said, thinking
maybe my needy family will be my graceful way out of this relationship.

Dave snickered. “Hey!” he exclaimed, changing the subject. “I’ve got salesmen for holiday merchandise coming in all week so I’ll be busy during most lunchtimes. If I can get away, I’ll call you before I come, okay?” He’d never been unavailable during lunch before.

“No problem,” she said. “I have to go into the city tomorrow and I don’t know when I’ll be back.” She’d let him say good-bye. It was the least she could do.

It took him a minute to decide. Was this it, or was it just a break? She had to hand it to him. “Okay Pam, have a safe trip in. Talk to you later.” And he hung up.

Was he leaving a door open
? she wondered.
Do I care?
Pam took her tea to the den. It was dark, but the landscaping lights illuminated enough of the beach for Pam to see that although some of the snow was still on the ground, most had either melted or been blown away. She sat in her overstuffed, leather chair with one leg under her. She aimed the remote at the fireplace and a flame burst on, lighting up the dark, shedding a mysterious gloom over the room. Not thinking about anything in particular, Pam burst out laughing. For a moment she was unexplainably at peace. It didn’t make any sense, with all the turmoil around her. But without warning, it occurred to her that she had forgiven herself. In a split second, she’d stopped rationalizing for Jack, stopped making excuses, and inexplicably decided to cut herself a break. She couldn’t do anything to turn back the clock, and she had so much at stake. Since there would be opportunities for others to blame her; she needed to be strong for herself. The children would be home for Thanksgiving. She planned to make it a fun time like it was when they were kids. Their friends would come to the house like they used to. She’d have a big meal with all of their favorite Thanksgiving foods. The only thing missing would be Jack. Jack and Marie. She let her imagination run with the image of their faces. Jack and Marie, leaving to golf. Jack and Marie running on the beach. How many times did she see Marie running up to the house, to be caught by Jack? He’d swoop her up in his arms, twirling her around while she screamed and he laughed. Lisa would be standing off to the side, watching. Was she jealous of her aunt? Of the attention given her by Jack? What had they been doing out of sight of the beach? She remembered walking out to Lisa and encouraging her to join in the fun. “That’s okay, Mother,” Lisa would say. What was okay? That Jack was playing with Marie? Or that she was being neglected? When questioned, Lisa swore that she felt she and Brent had had the perfect childhood. Pam could remember telling her mother the same thing when Nelda was doing some rare introspection of her parenting during one of Marie’s anorexic episodes.

“Mom, you were fine!” Pam insisted. “Everything was fine!”
It hadn’t been. But what was the point of digging up a child’s nebulous complaints to justify a parent’s guilt? Now, were my children doing the same thing? Were they protecting me from my own failings?
Her stomach started growling. She’d missed dinner. Getting up to go into the kitchen, she thought of the weekend nights when she’d be in her kitchen alone, preparing dinner for the family. The four would come in from their activities and Pam would serve them while they continued talking and laughing, or arguing. Marie confided recently that the children hadn’t contacted her since Jack died. She was astonished, thinking the three were inseparable. But Jack was the glue that held Marie to the family. Marie didn’t really care about Lisa and Brent or she would have stayed in touch. It was so depressing. Earlier, Pam had made a vow not to dwell on Marie and Jack, but the truth was that she had to come to terms with these revelations as they came to her and not push them back down. Remembering Marie’s current status, Pam laughed. A lot of good it would do to try to pin anything on her now. And then a wave of sadness came over her. Her poor sister. She’d really been neglected and abused. It was too late to make amends. All they could do was try to make her comfortable and compliant. She got a banana and another cup of tea. It would have to do. She was too lonely to bother eating dinner. And that elusive peace? It was out the door.

.

22

F
or a very brief time, Jack and Ashton tried living together. There was nothing suspicious about it; after all, they’d been childhood friends. Harold didn’t want Jack to move out, but after college when he refused to pay for Jack’s graduate program, there was nothing obligating Jack to stay home.

“I’m going to move in with Ashton, and while I’m out of the house, I expect you to keep your hands off Bill. I’ll make good my former threats if I hear otherwise,” Jack told him quietly. Harold wanted to bash Jack’s head in, but he was afraid of him, and had been afraid since Jack held exposure of molestation over his head.

“It’s all in your imagination, Jack,” was Harold’s standard reply. Harold was a man with intimidating size. But sitting in a leather armchair having to look up at Jack diminished his stature. He was certain it would take more than the words of a pencil-neck college kid to bring him down, but the fear of it was always in the back his mind. Sex had been a game to his own father and uncles, as it had been with the generations before. Incest was an accepted practice in his grandfather’s homeland and he had brought it with him to America. Exposure now would mean financial ruin, social catastrophe.

“Whatever you say, Dad. Just don’t let me hear that you have been bothering Billy,” Jack warned. “I’m leaving now. Tell Mom I said good-bye.” He left quietly, before Bernice came down.

Billy was running up the sidewalk when he saw Jack leaving. Jack was his protector, his savior. His absence could only mean one thing for Billy and that was brutality at the hands of his father. They embraced but quickly separated in case Harold was watching.

“You’re really gonna do it?” Billy asked. “He’ll kill me if you leave, Jack!” The boy started crying, backing up, away from the view of the house. When they were standing behind a brick post, Jack grabbed him and hugged him.

“You’ll be okay. I told him to leave you alone. Keep your door locked and don’t come when he calls. I wish I had done it. I didn’t know any better. But you do. Threaten him, Billy. Tell him you’ll tell!” Jack lowered his head and began to weep. Calling the police wasn’t an option; who’d pay the bills if Harold was arrested? Jack knew he was being a coward. He would regret being passive for the rest of his life. He hugged his brother again. “I love you, Billy. I’ll always take care of you.” Those words would come back to haunt him later.

Jack walked away from the mansion and his brother toward Broadway. He’d take the subway to the Village where he and Ashton would have two weeks of playing house. Ashton couldn’t stand Jack’s carousing, however, and when he laid down the law, Jack left happily. “I didn’t like you in the role of Mother, anyway,” Jack told him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ashton whined.

“I don’t need dinners and laundry. I’ll pay for that shit if I want it,” Jack replied. “I need a playmate and a lover. When I walk in, I don’t want to be reminded that I’m late or that I need to drink my orange juice or change my underwear.” He went to their shared bedroom and began stuffing clothes into a suitcase. When he finished, he grabbed his jacket and walked over to Ashton, kissing him on the cheek. “I got an apartment Midtown, off Broadway and Thirty-Ninth Street.”

“Jack, that’s an awful neighborhood. What are you going to do? Turn tricks for extra cash?” Ashton sat down on the edge of the bed and starting crying.

“Oh great, here goes old waterworks. If there is anything that turns me off, it’s you crying,” Jack said. But he did go over to Ashton and hug him with one arm. “I’ll call you later and you can come and help me decorate. We just can’t live together.” Jack secretly hated the Village anyway; it reminded him of college and youth and vulnerability. He was so done with being young. And sex with one person was boring. The alternative was to live alone and seek additional partners on the sly. Eventually, Jack wanted to get married and have a family. He wanted a sober wife and children who didn’t feel threatened by their father, who could leave their bedroom doors unlocked and feel safe. That his ideal would be an isolated island in the center of a sea of depravity of his creation never ever entered his mind, even in the midst of his worst nightmares at the end of his life.

Jack dragged his suitcases out to the curb. A cab pulled up right away, hoping for a big fare out to the airport, but Jack was just going a few miles uptown. He was excited; it would be the first time he’d lived alone. He’d fantasized about what it would be like, how he’d be free to bring as many people there as he chose to, whenever he wanted. The first week would be filled with so much fun; he’d remember it as the best one of his life for many years. Old friends found their way to his door for weeks until the cops finally came, and seeing his old family name, gave him a warning to keep it down, or else. After the allure wore off and they found more intriguing places to party, Jack was free to start bringing new friends there. He experimented with new fetishes, too. Living alone gave him the freedom to live his life the way he wanted with no holds barred.

In contrast, it was at this time that he began the ritual of taking his mother out to lunch every Wednesday. Like all abused children, he made excuses for his mother’s inability to protect him. He did love her, no matter what her omissions were. They never spoke of Harold, or Billy, or home. Their conversations were always about what was happening in town, politics, the arts, the latest
Times
editorial. As an adult, Jack developed a warm, loyal relationship with his mother. He slowly put aside the animosity he felt for his father, shoving the memories down, pretending they didn’t matter. But in real time, they lurked; his father coming home from work, the sound of the limousine pulling into the driveway; his mother, sleeping off a drunken stupor, leaping up out of bed to shower and dress. The boys always being freshly showered at the dinner table because afterward, Harold’s other appetites would come to life.