Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (21 page)

“Dale’s my aunt,” he said, smiling. “Are you here to see her?”

Ashton turned to him and offered a hand. “Yes, yes! Dale is an old friend; she was my math professor in college!” Ashton started laughing at the ludicrousness of it. “We are having dinner together today.”

The man pulled out a key. “Come in,” he said. They walked up the stairs together with Ashton following. “I hate to have to be the one to tell you this,” he said as they got to her door. He put the key in and turned the handle, standing aside so Ashton could go through first. Ash looked around the apartment; it was a physical sensation that she wasn’t there. He didn’t even have to go into her bedroom to check. “She died last night. About midnight. The nurse said she was expecting a friend today but no one knew your name. I’m sorry.”

Ashton couldn’t help himself. She was his last link. With Dale gone, there was no one left. He started to cry. Ugly, hiccupping sobs that grown men hate to admit having. He plunked down in a chair and put his face in his hands. The man stood aside and allowed him this one dignity and didn’t interrupt him. It seemed like an eternity, but probably only lasted for a minute or two, and he was spent. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a perfectly ironed handkerchief to wipe his eyes and nose. “May I use the bathroom?”

The man nodded and pointed to the back of the apartment. Ashton went in and shut the door. He let the water run until it was warm and with his overcoat and scarf still on, he washed his hands and face. There was a towel folded on a shelf above the toilet and he hoped it was clean. After he dried himself off, he took a length of toilet paper and blew his nose. So that was that. He wanted to get out of there, but it was too late to call Balducci’s. What to do? He walked out and the man was still standing in the same place, waiting.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Ashton nodded his head.

The man stuck his hand out. “I’m Dale’s nephew, Ted.” The two men shook hands again.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered in half an hour,” Ashton said. “It’s too late to cancel it.”

“Do you want to wait?” Ted asked. “I have to start looking through her papers today, so you’re not inconveniencing me if you want to wait. I didn’t usually have Thanksgiving dinner with her. We were the last two hold-outs in the city.” Ted smiled.

Ashton was having a hard time getting a read on the man, but he was almost certain that Ted was gay.
Homophobic Dale having a gay nephew that she had meals with?

“I don’t want to put you out. You must be upset,” Ashton said. “Yesterday she didn’t seem that bad to me. I mean, I knew she was ill because of the nurse and having chemo, but otherwise, she seemed okay. We had lunch just two months ago and she never let on.”

“She didn’t want us to know how advanced the cancer was. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even tell my mother, who’s her older sister, until right after Labor Day. My folks live in Florida and, of course, they were frantic and called me. Aunt Dale and I tried to get together for dinner at least once a month.” Ted looked around the apartment. “Look, it doesn’t seem too strange; would you stay and have dinner here after all? I was going to go up to Franco’s by Seventy-Ninth and eat there alone.” Ted waited for Ashton’s answer with expectation written all over his face.

Although a romantic entanglement was the last thing on his mind, Ashton didn’t want to be alone today, and they had the bond of Dale to see them through. If there was nothing else to talk about, she would serve.

Dinner arrived promptly at two-thirty. The men pulled a small table and chairs out of the dining room and placed them in front of the bay window that overlooked the park. It was too nice a day to sit in the dark, windowless dining room. They took the containers of food out and prepared their plates to take to the table. Ashton thought of Jack, eating directly out of a Chinese food box. They sat across from each other and began to eat, making small talk.

“So what do you do for a living?” Ashton asked.

“I’m a real estate broker,” Ted said. Ashton’s heart did a little skip. “How about you?”

“I own a design business. I do all the real estate staging here on the East Side.” Ashton took a sip of wine, trying to gauge what this news meant to Ted. “I’m surprised our paths never crossed. New York is such a small town.”

“It does seem like that sometimes! Actually, I sell primarily industrial space in the Financial District,” Ted said. “I live down there, too.”

“So you are one of the few!” They laughed at the same time. “I didn’t know anyone was brave enough to,” Ashton said.

“It’s actually nice. There is a real sense of community, believe it or not. The weekends aren’t dead, as you would expect. I like it!” Ted said, asking, “Where do you live?”

“A few blocks from here,” Ashton answered. “I was raised up here and loved it. My parents moved to Florida a few years ago and I miss them, but I would die in the summer. The heat, I mean. Yes, I will probably stay here for the rest of my life.” Ashton laughed again. How much longer did he have? He still felt like a young man. “I’m a perpetual youth.”

“Ha ha, me too!” Ted exclaimed. “My mother warned me that I was starting to look like Pat Boone. I wear sunscreen all the time now.”

The men bantered back and forth for two hours. Ashton forgot where he was, enjoying the company of Ted, who seemed like a gentle, intelligent, decent human being, if one can make those deductions from an afternoon visit. Whatever he was, Ashton was determined that he would get to know him better.

“Are you in a relationship?” he finally asked. Ted was preparing to get up and make coffee, and the question stopped him in his tracks. Ashton was suddenly concerned that he’d misread the man and he would turn out to be straight after all. He could feel the heat spreading through his neck and face, probably bringing a red flush with it.

“No, not for a long time.” Ted sat back down. “I don’t have the energy.” The men started laughing, Ashton shaking his head in exasperation.

“Me either. But I hope you and I can get to know each other. I’m comfortable talking with you. It seems like we have a lot in common. What do you think?” Ashton realized he was entering uncharted territory. He hadn’t approached another man who wasn’t in his circle of friends for years. Jack’s death had freed him from restrictions he’d set for himself. It would be so much nicer to be with someone who
didn’t
know Jack. Ted stared at him for what seemed like a long time, but finally he smiled.

“That might be nice. I am, for lack of a better word, jaded. I’m always with someone younger, someone who needs me. It might be nice to be with someone my own age who works for a living,” Ted admitted. His words flooded Ashton with well-being. Finally, to be an adult. He would have remained a child with Jack, and now here was his chance to feel like a grownup.

They moved around the apartment, cleaning up their dinner mess, and then Ashton helped Ted find his aunt’s safe and files. They locked the apartment up and Ash stayed, talking to him, until a cab came. They’d exchanged business cards, and hopefully, something would come of it. Ashton walked home with his scarf up over his mouth, but it couldn’t hide the smile that went all the way to his eyes. A sad day had turned around for both men. Dale would’ve been happy.

.

29

P
am and her children drove home from the restaurant in silence. Everyone went to their own rooms; she could hear them close their doors and that made her sad. She waited for a few minutes and then walked back out to the kitchen. The smell of turkey permeated the house. It was nauseating. She took the phone back to her bedroom and made the calls canceling the dinner, starting with her mother-in-law; they had the farthest to drive. Nelda was angry, but for once, she kept her mouth shut. There would be plenty of time for disclosure later. The only one she was honest with was Jeff, and he felt horrible for her. She promised they would talk on Monday after the kids left for school.

The atmosphere in the house was worse than if someone had died. The discovery of years of deceit might never be recovered from. Pam knew she was to blame because of stupidity, but she had to find a way to not grovel. She also understood that she may be losing the love and respect of her children, the only two beings in the world that she really loved. She had to take responsibility, and she had to own up to her wrongdoing. It wouldn’t work to feign ignorance. Her kids wouldn’t accept it. Because of it, she had a glimmer of hope. Her kids were not going to tolerate rationalizing. They were going to confront where they had been wronged and try to overcome it. If she became the whipping boy, it was okay. Her skin was thick after Jack’s shenanigans, and she would do anything for her kids, after all. The shocking thing was that she didn’t expect it would be her children with whom she would exercise her new-found strength. Their relationship would probably suffer devastating consequences.

There was silence from the children’s wing. At four, she took the turkey out of the oven. Going through the motions as she had taught herself to do over the months, she prepared the rest of the traditional dishes her family enjoyed. They would be light on veggies and hors d oeuvres; offerings Jeff and Dave were going to bring. But she always served too much food anyway, and turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce might be enough to lure them out of their bedrooms. She carefully set the table for them, one of the many useless tasks she had performed on their behalf over the years. The knowledge of the absolute frivolity of her life kept slapping her in the face as she moved around her kitchen and dining room, trying to justify her existence. It took so much energy to keep moving with these thoughts tormenting her that she almost gave in and went to her room for a nap. But she wanted to do everything she could to try to make a normal Thanksgiving for them, so she pressed on, knowing it was as much for her as it was for them. She dressed up as she would have if the entire family was still coming, taking extra time with her hair and makeup. When everything was perfect—table, meal, mother—she went to their doors and gently knocked.

“Dinner’s ready. I hope you’re hungry!” It was the same thing she’d said to them since they were small. They’d be in the den or in the basement recreation room with their friends, and Pam would call to them, “I hope you have a big appetite!” She remembered Brent beaming with pride as he and his friends ran up the steps to join the family around the big pine table. It would be brimming with food, and there was another long harvest table alongside the wall that led to the veranda, and it would be loaded as well. She’d adorned the table with artwork from their grade school art projects: a papier-mâché pumpkin that Brent made in third grade, a construction-paper turkey with a full, colorful tail that Lisa made in first grade. There was a mobile of dried Indian corn that their father had made as a child and that Bernice had parted with. Kernels were missing where a mouse had gotten into Pam’s storage box once, looking for a meal.

Brent opened his bedroom door and smiled at Pam. “Okay, mom, I’m coming,” he said. He was talking on the phone with his girlfriend who was going to visit, but Brent had cancelled. Lisa was slower to open her door; it looked like she’d fallen asleep. She stepped out of her room and reached for her mother.

“Sorry mom, that was shitty of me. I must be getting my period,” she explained.

Brent laughed and said, “Ugh.”

Pam carefully exhaled a sigh of relief that would go undetected. Maybe she would get out of this without too much ugliness after all. “I’m glad we are alone.”

“Me too,” Lisa said.

Pam’s children surrounded her as they walked out into the kitchen. Brent saw the table first. “Oh boy, I love this table,” he said. He looked at Pam and smiled. “I have always loved the Thanksgiving table you make for us.”

Lisa groaned. “That is so gross! You sound like a decorator, Brent. You better watch it.”

Their banter was comforting. Brent took the place at the head of the table to carve the turkey, not that it was something that Jack ever did, but he was happy to help out and carving was the only thing he knew he could do. Lisa didn’t have to do anything to help; always the princess. Pam was almost afraid to relax, there were more revelations to be made but maybe they didn’t have to be made today after all. She’d allow the day to unfold as it was supposed to, with no plan.

Serving dinner ended up being a good thing after all; she was glad she hadn’t abandoned it. Jack’s name didn’t come up once, which was unusual because they liked reminiscing about him. But with the new information, how could they be sure if their memories of him were real? She would have to find a way to get them to remember what was good; they’d said in the past that their childhood was charmed, and most of it was. They helped her clean up afterward. Brent was going to his girlfriend’s house in White Plains and Lisa was headed to a local dive bar for a battle of the bands. Pam thought about calling Jeff and inviting him to come over to avoid being alone with her thoughts.
Will this ever end? Thank you again, Jack! I hate you.

.

30

P
am spent Thursday night in solitude, after all. The kids weren’t expected until late. She got into her pajamas early and, looking forward to a night of peace, got her favorite book, a cup of tea, and retreated to her bedroom. She fell asleep sometime after midnight and woke up about two, thinking she heard a key in the front door. A slow smile crept across her face as she heard the rustle of someone undressing, then creeping to bed, and pulling the covers back to get in next to her. She felt his body moving to the middle of the bed, and she rolled over to meet him half way, as was their habit. He reached around her shoulders and pulled Pam to his chest. She could smell the fresh air on him, on his cold skin and in his hair, from driving with his windows down. His lips went to her mouth without skipping a beat and they began to kiss like a perfectly synchronized dance, two people who had kissed like this for all of their adult lives. His tongue separated her lips and skimmed their surfaces tenderly. She felt his hands on the skin of her back, his lips move down along her chin and to her neck and ear. His free hand intertwined with hers, his fingers strong but gentle. She felt his love for her, could feel his caring and desire as his hand released hers and circled her waist, pulling her to him.
I love you, Pam. I’ve always loved you.