Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (18 page)

Sandra’s presence would ruin Thanksgiving for both women. How could they put the feed bags on when Twiggy was in the house? After that initial visit, Emma begged Virginia to let Tom go to his father’s for Thanksgiving dinner, but she was having none of it.

“No friggin’ way! He’s coming here where he belongs,” she said. “What’s wrong with you two?” She knew what it was; they were green with envy. “Don’t let the green-eyed monster ruin your relationship with your brother.”

Faith didn’t argue because her mother was right. If she really cared, she’d enlist Sandra’s help with weight loss and exercise. Didn’t all skinny people love to give diet and workout advice? But Emma wasn’t going there. She was incensed. Tom was just as shallow as the rest of the men she knew. Unless a woman was starving to death, she couldn’t get a second look from a guy. Emma could barely make eye contact with her brother on that first visit and never addressed Sandra once. Thanksgiving would be a horrible day to be gotten through.

For Tom, Thanksgiving morning, at least, was relaxing and pleasant. Gwen served coffee and put the rolls Tom brought out on a china serving platter. Surprisingly, she took one, put it in the microwave, smeared it with butter that promptly melted all over, and began to stuff it into her mouth. She ate two of the caramel rolls with coffee, and then went to the kitchen to begin putting out the brunch dishes. She had bagels from the bakery in their neighborhood, lox and cream cheese, smoked turkey, chicken livers, cheeses, a platter of bacon and sausage, and a huge frittata. Gwen could put it away. She piled her plate up with food while the others followed behind her.

“Eat up! There’s fruit, cream puffs, and chocolate éclairs,” she said. The fruit was presented in a hollowed-out watermelon. Where she found watermelon in Queens in November was a mystery. They took their plates to an enclosed porch that overlooked Little Neck Bay. The setting reminded Sandra of Pam, and sadness tried to ruin her day. She decided to fight it by stepping out of her comfort zone and initiating the conversation instead of making others draw her out, as usual. “So Gwen, what do you do for a living?” Sandra asked, assuming she still worked because she was so much younger than the retired John. Why would they be in Bayside if they could travel?

“I’m a nurse,” she said. “Next year I am going to go part-time so we can start doing a little traveling. Do you travel much?”

“I think I can count the number of times I’ve been out of the city on one hand.” They laughed. “Coming to Brooklyn is in that count.”

“Sandra was born and raised in Manhattan, Gwen. Hell’s Kitchen, right, honey?” Tom asked. Sandra nodded her head yes.

“Brooklyn must have been a tough change for you,” Gwen said. But Sandra shook her head.

“No, everyone says that, but I love it. Williamsburg is completely unpretentious. I feel like I could be happy here permanently,” Sandra explained. Tom reached an arm around her and hugged. “It’s a fallacy, actually, that people from the city never want to leave it—something Woody Allen propagated in
Manhattan
. We might be
afraid
to leave. I just have never known anything else. It’s not that I don’t love the city, but I am not thrilled with what it’s become. The familiar is being replaced by the generic. There was a burger joint in my old neighborhood and the rent was raised until he could no longer afford to pay. The usual story. Last week, a friend told me that a national sandwich chain is going in there. Yuck. A coffee chain took over the coffee shop I visited with my mother and sister every Saturday for ten years. It makes me sad. You won’t know where you are when you get off the subway. It could be anyplace in the country.” The clanking of cutlery on china increased as they ate.

“I have no desire to go anywhere. When you say we are going to travel, what do you have in mind?” John asked Gwen. The group laughed.

“I’ll think of something you won’t be able to resist,” she said.

Sandra could see they were in love, devoted to each other. It would be pleasant being part of this family. After brunch, they talked for a while longer and then it was time to head back home before going to Tom’s mother’s house. When they got back to Tom’s apartment, Sandra wished she could feign illness and stay home. But she did some quick deep breathing and the impulse to hide went away. She’d be okay. Just going with the flow was a new discipline for Sandra. She liked being in control but found that relinquishing some of it to Tom was easier than she thought. As long as the conversation wasn’t threatening at his mother’s house, she would be fine.

They were at Virginia’s for less than fifteen minutes when the first comment was made that shifted Sandra’s self-protection mechanism to the front line. They were sitting around a small, round table in the front of the apartment and Virginia was serving tea and hors d’oeuvres. Faith was talking a blue streak about a new computer system her employer had put in and Sandra tried to stay focused. Without meaning to, she let her eyes glaze over and she started daydreaming.

Emma picked up on it immediately. “Shut up for a minute, will you, Faith? You’re boring Sandra,” Emma said.

Tom looked over at her with a “you okay?” expression. She smiled back at him. “Not at all,” Sandra said. “I don’t know much about computers but I’m always willing to learn!” The comment rang false to her own ears, but she didn’t think anyone else noticed.

“You’ll have to put up with us catching up with Tommy when you come around. We never see him now,” Faith said. Sandra kept her smile plastered across her face.
What the hell were they talking about? He spent every Saturday afternoon with them.

“Get on with it, Faith. I’m going to fall asleep myself,” Tom said jokingly. But Faith took it seriously.

Sandra thought,
Oh great, now the ally is pissed, too.

“Forget it,” she said, pushing herself away. The action made the small table move six inches. The vase of flowers teetered and everyone’s tea cups sloshed. She stomped off toward the back of the apartment with enough gusto that the plates rattled. No one said anything for a moment, and then Virginia got up from her chair.

“I’ll go retrieve Princess Faith,” she said.

Sandra wondered if that behavior was Faith’s norm. She picked up her tea and sipped. She could do anything for one afternoon. Tom patted her knee and smiled at her while they waited. Emma glared at Sandra, piling more food on her plate. They’d only been sitting there for twenty minutes and Sandra already felt like she could throw up, she’d eaten so much. There was still the huge meal to wade through.

Finally, Virginia returned alone. “Faith will be out shortly. Shall we move into the dining room?”

She led the way into a tiny, windowless room behind the kitchen. She’d fashioned heavy draperies across one wall. The other walls were covered with a gallery of old, framed prints, flea market finds mixed with family treasures. Sandra was of the minimalist decorating school, where form followed function, but she was finding the space more relaxing and cozy than confining, as she’d thought it might be. The furniture was oversized for the small space, with four large armchairs around the table. They’d brought in a kitchen chair for Sandra.

She was uncomfortable being served, but the room was too small for more than one person to be up at a time. Virginia dished the food up in the kitchen and brought plates to the table. She’d taken pity on Sandra, maybe because of her size. The plate she prepared for Sandra had child-sized portions of turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing, and a tablespoon of something green. Creamed spinach. She would make it last throughout the meal.

When Tom was done, he announced that he was going to the living room to check out the scores and thankfully, he motioned for Sandra to go with him. No one had directed any conversation or questions to her. They weren’t interested and that was okay with Sandra. She remembered an experience with a high school date. The young man lived on the Upper West Side and had a maid serving the meal. His parents acted like they had never eaten a meal with anyone who wasn’t a member of their church, let alone someone who lived in Hell’s Kitchen.

“What did you say your father does again?” they asked, in disbelief that she could be telling the truth; her father was among the legal counsel for the ACLU. After the meal was over, she politely left the room and told her date to go fuck himself for throwing her to the wolves. She walked home, and on the way, resolved that she would never allow that sort of treatment again. Yet here she was—slipping into a state of not belonging or feeling inferior. The others were still eating. The smell of turkey was making Sandra sick, and she decided to step out of her comfort zone and risk making Tom angry.

“How long do we have to stay?” she whispered. He looked around and shrugged his shoulders. “How about half-time?” he asked.

She nodded her head yes.
Fifteen more minutes.
When the time finally arrived, she stayed calm and didn’t rush to the door, although she was feeling more and more panicked the longer they stayed.

“Mom, we’re heading out!” Tom yelled to Virginia. “I’ll come by tomorrow for leftovers.”

His mother walked out, a confused look on her face. “You’re leaving already?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a little headache, Ma, nothing to worry about. I want to get home and lay on the couch.”

Emma snickered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tom asked. Sandra pressed closer to the door.

“Emma, mind your business,” Virginia said.

“No, I don’t think I will. You cooked all day yesterday and I think its mean of him to come for dinner and stay for an hour and think that’s enough,” Emma stated, and then, the question they dreaded, “How long’d you stay at Dad’s, Tommy?”

Faith came out of the bedroom and stood in the hallway, waiting. The struggle Virginia was having was clear. Tom stepped back into the living room. Sandra closed her eyes. He was going to get into it with his sister.

“We were there all morning. And you know what, Faith? No one treated my girlfriend like shit over there. No one whined and complained, or expected anything of us. They treated Sandra with respect at Dad’s. Mother,” he said addressing Virginia, “thank you for a delicious meal. You were a lovely hostess. But your daughters are bitches and I’m not subjecting my girlfriend to this again.” He walked over to his mother and kissed her cheek. “Love you, Mom, thank you for dinner,” he repeated. “I’ll be by tomorrow.” He glared at his sisters and turned back to the door where Sandra stood, embarrassed.

They were silent on the walk to his car. He unlocked the door and held it for her while she got in. She watched him walking around the front to his door. She felt a combination of relief and regret. She was hoping for the sense of family that she’d missed since her parents died. But she wasn’t going to find it with Faith and Emma lurking around, no matter how long they hung out at Virginia’s. She may have found what she was looking for at John and Gwen’s, which would make things worse for Tom. He was already walking a fine line between the two parents.

“I blame myself. I felt comfortable at your dad’s and they may have picked up on my discomfort at dinner,” she said.

Tom shook his head. “I have played this game for years now, where I pretend my father doesn’t exist so my mother won’t be hurt. It’s been long enough since my dad left; they should be over it by now. Maybe this is a good thing; I can start being myself again and stop allowing my sisters to walk all over me. You never have to go there again.”

Sandra looked out the window so he wouldn’t see her give the eyeball-roll of relief. Thank God. “I can’t wait to get home. My stomach is never going to be the same,” Sandra said. They’d weathered yet another storm and come out with new respect for each other.

.

25

A
fter Jeff and Nelda called asking to come to dinner, the phone didn’t stop ringing. Marie called; she wanted to make sure it was okay that Steve was bringing Nelda, Bernice, and herself. Then, surprisingly, Dave from Organic Bonanza called. He was fishing for an invitation and Pam just couldn’t be so mean as to not invite him. The good thing was that he would bring whatever food from the deli she wanted. But she warned him that Jeff and her mother also had called, so the entire Manhattan crowd would be there. He could attend at his own risk. The mention of Jeff’s name seemed to cement his determination not to be left out.

“I’ll be there!” he exclaimed. So what was supposed to be an intimate family dinner with her children and their friends was slowly taking on the dynamic of a three-ring circus. The only preparation she gave the kids was a warning that Marie had been ill and looked awful, and that a man she’d been dating was going to come. They would figure out everything else.

Thursday morning, Pam woke up early. She lay in bed, the one she’d shared with Jack for so many years. It no longer felt lonely without him. She’d successfully removed all of what reminded her of him so the room was truly hers now. The first hour that the kids were home, she invited them into Jack’s closet and instructed them to take what they wanted; the rest was going to Goodwill the following Monday. She was surprised at what they took. Although Brent was more slender than Jack, he took—with Pam’s blessing—the Armani suits. They would go to the tailor to see if they could be taken in. Lisa took all of his college sweatshirts, threadbare rags that she remembered him wearing around the house while she was growing up. All of his silk ties, and there were hundreds of them, and his handkerchiefs went. The only things they left were his shoes (he wore size twelves and Brent wore thirteens) and his underwear, although both kids took some of his undershirts. They took armloads of Jack’s things to their rooms. She told them to stash everything; she didn’t want to go to into their rooms to clean after they returned to school and have to deal with it all. And then to Pam’s surprise, they returned to help her box and bag and rest of the stuff for donation. With their help, the task was accomplished in less than an hour. Pam felt sad; before the disclosure to them of AIDS, she was sure the experience would have been bittersweet. But now, neither child seemed saddened at all. As a matter of fact, Jack’s name was only mentioned in passing. He’d brought it on, Pam reminded herself. It was his doing.