Authors: Suzanne Jenkins
“My sisters have talked of nothing else all week,” Dan said. “It’s ‘what are you going to wear, and oh, you can’t wear that, and let’s go shopping.’”
Pam laughed. “I remember my mother saying that the only reason she had any ‘dress up’ clothes was because of the weddings they were invited to. An invitation is a motivator to shop. I do the same thing with the house. I still say I have to repair or repaint in time for Memorial Day.” She lay on her side on the bed, watching him buckle his watch around his wrist.
“So, tell me about my son-in-law,” Pam said softly in case someone was lingering outside of the door.
“He’s in trouble,” Dan said, glancing over at her. “There’s a real chance he will lose his teaching license, and if the charges are dropped, he may still lose his job. His school district is extremely cautious after the last sex snafu. If you remember the news, a female teacher charged with inappropriate sexual contact with a student committed suicide. They have a zero-tolerance policy, hoping to prevent anything else like that from happening again.”
“Oh, how awful. I don’t remember. I must have been caught up in my own problems.”
“It was about the time Jack died. I don’t know what to say about Ed. He thinks he has a mental illness, and the parents concur. Lisa is livid because ‘she’s the last to know’. I’m not sure it will make any difference in a court of law, but he needs to seek help regardless.”
Pam was shocked. “Does it have anything to do with him leaving the priesthood? I’d still like to know what was behind that decision.”
“I have a feeling he was hiding there. But no proof, of course. He’s about as unenlightened as they come. The idea that he diagnosed himself is pretty amazing,” Dan said. He turned from the mirror and walked over to her. He scanned her from head to foot.
“You’re pretty tantalizing, stretched out on the bed. Do we have to be out there right now?”
“What did you have in mind?” Pam asked. She never let him get away with hints. If he wanted her, he was going to have to work at it.
Just the opposite of her and Jack
, she thought sadly.
“Well, I thought I could undress you first. I would pull your panties down as slowly as I could, kissing your body. When you’re naked, I’d caress your lovely breasts, and maybe after I did that for a while, you’d let me kiss you in between those luscious thighs. And then if this corny speech didn’t make you throw up, I would make love to you.”
Pam burst out laughing. “Oh, okay. I guess you could do that,” she answered. “Thank you for taking the time to let me know, but no, I don’t have the time right now, and neither do you.”
Dan was laughing, too. “That’s awful,” he said. “Make a man talk all mushy and then shut him down.”
“I recorded it, too,” she said, teasing.
“Well, I’ll deny it was me,” Dan answered. “From now on I’m disguising my voice.” He reached for her hand and pulled her off the bed.
“Next year, I’m going to be busy planting during your damn picnic.”
“Yes, I think I’ll be helping you. This has definitely run its course.”
They walked out together and greeted the house full of family one more time.
Dan was pouring wine for a crowd on the veranda, including newcomer Jeff Babcock and his partner, Richard. Seeing his friend Jeff made the hassles of the picnic worth it.
Pam was back in the kitchen, pulling trays of hors d’oeuvres out of the refrigerator, removing the plastic wrap. It was the last food she’d be serving until the big picnic the next day, and she wouldn’t have to lift a finger. She was thinking about how much her attitude had changed from the years she and Jack had the picnic, when every task she did was an act of worship to him, compared with now, where all she could think of was how wonderful it would be when everyone was gone tomorrow night.
Gladys Ford came in and asked if she could help.
“Thank you so much! You are the
only
person here besides my eighty-year-old mother who has offered to lift a finger.”
Gladys, flustered and flattered, stuttered a reply, until a knock on the door caught Pam’s attention.
“Save that thought, dear,” Pam said and went to answer. It was Brent.
“Oh, Brent!” she cried. “How wonderful to see you.”
Pam forgot her resolve to investigate the stories Julie had told her about her beloved son as they grabbed each other and hugged. Brent felt safe for the first time in weeks. A little worry floated through Pam as she hugged her son, feeling his bones through his clothes, noticing he wasn’t fresh smelling, his hair greasy, and breath reeking of cigarettes.
“Where’s my sister?” he said, dragging his carryall inside the house, looking around the familiar space, at all the people on the veranda, and he smiled. It was just like old times.
“I think she’s in the bedroom with Megan. Your room is all ready for you.”
They walked side by side, Brent’s arm around his mother, to the children’s wing.
“Bubby and Noni are in Marie’s old room, just an FYI,” Pam said.
“Is Father Ford with Lisa?”
Pam frowned. “I’m not sure. Let’s find out.”
They knocked on Lisa’s door, and she called, “Come in.”
Pam let Brent go through first. Lisa screamed with delight, Megan startling, but not crying. When Pam could see they would be okay, she quietly shut the door. Those two would tell each other the important stuff and, hopefully, come back and report to her.
Chapter 13
After Zach parked the Hummer, said goodbye, and walked to his own car, Ted could no longer hide his anger. It was all he could do not to push Ashton through the door of the apartment building or into the elevator. As they rode up the floors, he realized he was almost snorting through his nostrils, he was breathing so heavily. Every five seconds or so, Ashton would either sigh or sob. The scene in the car where Ted slapped his face was fresh in both their minds. They’d crossed a point of no return in their relationship, something they couldn’t ignore. They had to address it and deal with it right away.
Although his emotions swung from one extreme to the next, one moment loving her with all his heart and the next moment not, right now Ashton
hated
Ted’s daughter. There was no getting around it. Deborah’s existence brought out the worst in Ashton. He was jealous of her for so many reasons: what she represented, the union of Ted and Natalie, her looks and personality, even her intellect. She was smarter than Ashton was. She commanded and demanded respect. And the most important, she was a woman.
Ashton used to imagine he was more like the Pams of the world: pretty, stylish, poised. But having met Deborah, he changed his mind. He’d be a free spirit, wild, organic and happy. He thought of the night Natalie, a larger version of Deborah, took her clothes off in front of him, how her breasts mesmerized him. He longed to touch them because he wanted to have a set himself, not because they aroused him. She’d grasped the edge of her nightgown and pulled it off her body. He looked away when her crotch was exposed; there was something tantalizing about it, covered in black, he wanted to ask her to lie back on the sofa so he could take a closer look. He’d always known he was gay, so there were no forays into dating women like Ted had had. And he was totally ignorant of the workings of their bodies.
Once, years and years ago, when he knew Jack had been with a girl for the first time, Ashton begged him to tell him about it, but he refused. “I’m not giving you any ammunition for fantasies,” he’d said. “Go find someone and do it yourself. I highly recommend it.”
“But why?” Ashton begged. “I don’t want to know the hows. Just the whys.”
“It’s different, that’s all,” Jack said. “They’re soft. They have softer skin. I don’t want to talk about it because I’ll get hot and have to go out again and find one to fuck.”
“Give me an example of what it’s like. Give me something I can compare it to.”
Jack just laughed. “Trust me, Ash, there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s like it’s lined with warm, moist, elastic velvet.”
Ashton shuddered. It did sound wonderful. But he would feign distaste. “Ew. That’s awful.”
Jack moved away from him. “You’ll never know until you try it.”
“That’s never going to happen,” Ashton said, whining.
Ted’s horrible expression, his face set in a grimace and flushed, moving in short, jerky motion, brought Ashton back to the present. He knew he was in trouble. He’d had it so easy with Ted, who’d demanded nothing of him. Ted was like a docile dog; give him a steak bone to gnaw on and the remote control and he was content. Why couldn’t it have stayed like that? Ashton’s attitude was what ultimately got them into hot water. He couldn’t let Ted lead the way with the women, letting Natalie take charge or allowing Deborah to find her pace. No, he had to jump right in, planning weekend family gatherings, forcing get-togethers on Ted, trying to remake them into one big, happy family.
“Get it out, why don’t you? Instead of glaring at me,” Ashton said, a sob in his voice.
“I’m afraid if I start, I won’t be able to stop,” Ted said. “Your behavior this afternoon was over the top, even for you. I don’t know what to say to you. Right now I wish I could leave.”
“I’m glad you said
you
,” Ashton said. “Since this is my place.”
Ted looked at him and shook his head. “Yours, mine.
My
daughter.
Your
place. I hope you’re satisfied that you hurt Deborah’s feelings.”
Putting the problem into words, living words that lingered in the air long after he spoke them, brought Ashton to his knees, and he yelled out, wailing, “I didn’t want to hurt her. That was the last thing I set out to do. I felt backed into a corner. Everyone was going their own way, and I felt left out. It wasn’t what we planned for the weekend.”
“So like a little boy, instead of throwing yourself into the activity, you take shots and pout. I’m so tired of it, Ashton; I wonder how much more I can take. Imagine! Instead of rejoicing for Natalie that the poor woman finally gets a date, you’re jealous! I hardly know what to say to you.”
Ashton didn’t know either. He was suicidal. Or homicidal. “What should I do?”
Ted looked at him, frowning. “Why ask me? Why do you suddenly care what I think? I’m going to go call my daughter and apologize to her. Then, I think I’ll get my suitcase, take the train downtown, and spend the night in my office. You’re correct when you say this is your place. I don’t feel comfortable here.”
“I’ll stay in the guest room,” Ashton said.
“Not on my account you won’t,” Ted answered. “I want to be away from you right now before we do or say anything rash. The only thing I am happy about is that my only flesh and blood is safe up in the cabin.”
“Ted, that’s an awful thing to say. I would never hurt her.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ted said, looking directly at him. “I don’t think I trust you anymore.”
Ashton fought the impulse to stamp his foot. Ted picked up his suitcase and briefcase and left the apartment. They hadn’t been home for longer than twenty minutes.
Ashton started crying again. He’d unpack, wiping away any hint of the weekend. He never wanted to see Ted or Natalie or Deborah again. He marched into their shared bedroom. It would be so easy to eliminate any trace of Ted. He didn’t have a very commanding presence in either his physical being or belongings.
Ashton sat on the bed and started to cry again. Poor Ted. Ashton saw to it that his impact on the apartment was minimal, and now that was glaring. Except for his clothes, he had no mementos or treasures in the room. Ashton walked into the guest room to see if there was anything in there. It, too, was devoid of the essence of Ted. In the den were two shelves of books and few family photos belonging to Ted. Had he left anything he valued in his office? He’d traded the cabin for his apartment downtown. What did Ted do with all his stuff when he made the switch? Ashton started going through closets, getting up on a ladder to see the very top, and couldn’t find anything. There were only clothes hanging neatly, and minimal at that. He jumped down and went to Ted’s dresser. Opening drawers, he made a discovery that caused his heart to pound violently in his chest. Ted must have been secreting his clothes out of the apartment, because the drawers were almost empty.
Ashton went to the phone and dialed Ted’s number. It went to voice mail, so he hung up without leaving a message. The last thing he wanted to do was get divorced. He loved Ted, as much as he was capable of loving someone other than Jack. There was a shrine of Jack pictures in the hallway; Ted never mentioned them or asked Ashton to take them down. Lined up in matching frames were sepia prints of Jack dating from the ’70s. Jack in a tuxedo, Jack in the village with a group of musicians, Jack golfing, Jack’s wedding, Jack in tennis clothes, sprawled in a chair on the terrace of the Columbus Avenue mansion. Ashton fell into a chair and started to sob.
“Jack, damn you,” he cried. “Damn you!”
Ted got off the train at City Hall and took a cab to Battery Park. He’d hole up in his office until he could get in touch with Natalie about camping out at her place. It was going to be empty all summer anyway, and unless he’d read her wrong, she’d be happy to have him there. He was so sure that this was the right thing to do. He’d had it with Ashton, and it was more than just the usual ups and downs of a relationship. Ashton was psycho, and Ted was worried for his daughter. And for Natalie and himself.
He got out of the cab and dragged his suitcase into the building, the doorman smiling at him. “Rough weekend?”
Ted laughed and nodded. “You could say that.”
He’d slept on the couch in his office plenty of times; there was a closet where he was stashing his clothes. As he slowly emptied Ashton’s apartment of his belongings, which were few to begin with, they were finding a place in his office. The rest of his things and those of his aunt Dale were resting in a storage facility in the Bronx. Ashton had tried to convince him to use one of his many warehouses, where the tools of his trade, real estate staging, were housed. But Ted subconsciously wondered if this day would come, or else why would he have refused? Now he was just happy that his stuff was out of the apartment. He thought of a few things that were still there, books and toiletries, and decided he’d just take his chances they wouldn’t end up in the river. He had his laptop and his briefcase. What more did he need? He picked up the phone and dialed his favorite pizza place and got a large pizza with meat and extra cheese. He was going to spend the rest of the Memorial Day weekend holed up in a downtown office building and order as much take-out as he could stuff in his mouth.