Authors: Suzanne Jenkins
As soon as she sat down in the train, she took out her phone and dialed Pam’s cell number. Pam answered with a baby crying in the background.
“You must have Megan there,” Sandra said.
“I’m in Smithtown,” Pam answered. “You would not believe what’s been happening. What day can I see you this weekend?”
“Either day is fine with me.”
“Can you get away without Miranda? No offense, but I think I might have had enough of babies for now.” She never mentioned Ed’s surgery or Lisa and Dan.
“Saturday, then. Tom is taking her to Bayside, and no offense taken.”
They made arrangements to meet in town on Madison Avenue. Jack’s old apartment was empty, and they would go there, call in lunch, and relax. It would be the second time they’d met there, and it was working out wonderfully. After saying goodbye, Sandra had a sense of relief and satisfaction that rang a warning bell she might have heard if she’d been paying attention at all. She wasn’t taking care of herself or addressing problems at home, and the idea that planning a lunch date with boring Pam was exciting should have clued her in.
***
Nelda and Pam had made the decision that the best place for Miranda to live after her parents both died would be with Tom and Sandra. And part of the agreement was that Pam would give them the money for a down payment on a bigger place in Williamsburg. They’d moved the year before from Tom’s one-bedroom apartment into a spacious brownstone with four floors of living space and a big backyard. It only required minor upgrades to make it a family home.
Sandra loved it. It belonged to both of them, but slowly they were turning the spaces into their own. Tom decorated the public spaces with his modern flair, while Miranda’s room and Sandra’s office were more to her liking, with mementos and personal objects she loved. Nelda had given her boxes and boxes of cherished treasures belonging to Marie; family heirlooms from Poland and Italy decorated a shelf above the baby’s dresser. Photos of Marie as a baby lined one wall, and her childhood stuffed animals and other toys decorated the rest of the room. It didn’t mean anything to Miranda now, but Sandra knew that someday, she’d appreciate them.
In the boxes of Marie’s belongings, Sandra found something she’d kept hidden from the rest of the family, sure that Nelda hadn’t looked at the contents before handing it off. There were journals and diaries covered with Marie’s handwriting which spanned a lifetime from childish printing to her exact, editorial cursive. Sandra was alone the night she made the discovery; Miranda was in her crib, and Tom was working nights. She pulled a random tome out of the pile of books and opened it cautiously. It was dated Saturday, October 14
th
, 1996.
We golfed today. I waited all week for it, and he didn’t disappoint me. We played eighteen holes, and were neck to neck until the end when he started teasing me, and I screwed up while he shot a birdie. He won’t let me live it down. We drove home with the top down; he held my hand the entire way. I felt so happy, the warm wind felt so good, and the smell of the water made me feel like I was on vacation. It’s Indian summer. The trees are starting to change already. It’s hard to believe it’s autumn.
Pam was gone when we got home, and he pushed me right into my bedroom. He never lets me bathe first, and I laughed at him because he reminds me of a dog. My sister is in the shower twice a day, at least. If only she knew.
When he left, not five minutes later she drove up, her car loaded with groceries. I pulled my golf skirt into place, his semen still draining out of me, and went out to help her. He must have showered, because he walked out with a wet head and grabbed her with a hug. She turned to him, laughing, and he kissed her full on the mouth, looking at me with his eyes open as he kissed her. I thought of where his tongue had just been. Touché, sister. He did it on purpose, because when they separated and she went back to putting groceries away, he gave me a look that reminded me of where I stood in the hierarchy of the household. I’m down around the bottom.
He’ll come back to my room tonight. He might fuck Pam in the interim. It’s to keep her in the dark about me. If he’s paying attention to her, she won’t get suspicious. But I’ll have him again a few more times before I go home tomorrow night.
Sandra felt sick when she read it. Rifling through the journals, she found one with dates coinciding with the time she herself was seeing Jack. She didn’t want to read it until she had a long night alone, and that was coming up soon; Tom worked a run of nights once a month. She had it planned out; she’d open a bottle of wine and read journals. It was secretive and detrimental, but she needed it. It kept her from the continuous temptation to give in to thoughts of Jack that led to depression. It would be a reminder of what he was doing when he wasn’t with Sandra. She’d glorified their time together, fantasizing about what it would have been like if he’d lived.
On that horrible day at Costco, when Ashton said Jack was going to leave Pam for Sandra, she didn’t really believe it. Jack would never have left Pam, but the knowledge fueled her fantasies. The scenario began with them moving in together—not Madison Avenue, but a new, larger space. They’d be together through her pregnancy, and baby Ellin would have lived, taking the place of Miranda. Sandra had a difficult time placing Jack in a family picture. What did he do with his kids on his days off? She might try to get Pam to reveal something about it on Saturday. Recognizing her thoughts as damaging, dangerous and a waste of time, Sandra would still use them as a counterbalance to her living an unsatisfactory life with a man she didn’t love.
The train station was only a few blocks from their new house, and walking up the hill, she glanced into windows she passed, spying on occupants. People were watching TV or sitting around a table eating dinner. Some were laughing, others silent. It made her sad. She thought of how lucky she was.
You are so lucky you don’t have any idea how lucky you are.
It was a meaningless chant and had lost its power to move her.
***
Pam came in from sitting on the beach with Brent, not able to shake her distress in spite of his good news. Everything was turning to shit. Lisa and Dan together made her physically ill, bile filling her mouth. She wanted to kill Lisa. It was a first, the driving hatred of her own flesh and blood. She never felt this much anger at Jack, no matter what she’d learned about his behavior. That her daughter, silly, naive Lisa, could succumb to that bastard’s advances drove her into a rage. She would go through the motions, use her acting skills to continue with the role of super mom, helping through this crisis with Ed. But beyond that, Lisa was on her own. Pam would take care of Megan in an emergency, but that was all. If she needed time out to socialize, she could pay a sitter. Pam had tried to figure out how she could halt the administration of Lisa’s trust fund, too. She didn’t want Dan Chua to benefit one iota from anything that had come from Jack. It was a complete turnaround from formerly encouraging him to enjoy the house and beach. Dan, not Jack, was the enemy now. She decided not to tell anyone about Dan and Lisa. Not even Sandra. Her pride couldn’t take it; its power over her had the potential to drive her to murder.
The beach house once provided peace, but now it was aggravating Pam. The bedroom was suspect; he’d lain on her bed, drooled on the pillows, showered in the tub, pissed in the toilet. Somehow, she had to banish every memory, every cell of his from her life. She carefully went through her clothing, and anything he’d particularly liked on her, she tossed. She wasn’t giving it away; it was going in the garbage. She imagined it getting tossed about in a landfill, run over by front loaders, picked up and dropped by seagulls. But perhaps taking it to a halfway house would be more satisfying, knowing that meth-head prostitutes were wearing clothes Dan liked might bring her great joy. She found a trash bag and started stuffing items into it. When she’d taken everything she could remember wearing in his presence out of her room, throwing it with a vengeance into the back of her SUV, she got down to business cleaning her bathroom. But it wasn’t long before she realized it wouldn’t be enough. Her bathroom was long overdue for a remodel; she’d start from scratch and remove any fixture he ever used.
She stripped the bed again and threw his pillows into the garbage can. The mattress was new; she tried to rationalize that it would be wasteful to throw it out so soon. Rushing around the house, cleaning, throwing things away, what would usually help her find balance wasn’t working this time. Marching into the kitchen with a large trash bag full of bedding, she looked up at the doors leading to the veranda just as Brent walked through.
“What are you doing cleaning house at ten at night?” he asked, remembering the satisfying cleaning spree they’d done together the night of Jack’s funeral.
“Oh, just killing time,” she said. “What are you up to?” She hoped he wasn’t going to say he was going out.
“I’m going to meet up with some friends in the city later,” he answered.
Pam bit her tongue. He just came back from the city three hours ago. She remembered that Jack rarely made the trip during the week, never two times in the same day.
“Well, have a good time, and be careful,” she said.
He came over to her and kissed her cheek. “Chill out, Mom. You look like you’re ready to explode.” She swung around to look at him, glaring, but stopped herself. Her mood wasn’t Brent’s fault.
“Right,” she said. “Sorry. I guess I’m caught up in the emotion of everything.”
“You have a right to be furious at Lisa, but don’t give yourself a heart attack over it,” he said gently.
“I’ve never known how to do that. Either you’re mad or you’re not mad, that is the question.” She looked at him quickly to see if he was laughing. She hated it when she made a funny unintentionally.
He patted her back. “Nope, I’ve never known how to do that either, so I never allow myself to get mad.”
“Oh, God, I’m afraid that’s my fault. Watch out, son. Not getting angry may turn around and bite you in the ass.”
“Mother!” Brent said, shocked at her language. Then he started to laugh hysterically.
“I have no idea what we’re talking about,” she said, defeated.
“Face it, Mother. We’re pushovers,” Brent said. “So I try to beat them to the punch. You should try it sometime.”
Pam debated bringing up Julie to try to find out how his treatment of her was working for him, but decided she was going to stay far away from his personal life. He was her son, and it was too late to change what damage she’d done to him.
“Listen, do you want to go out and get a bite to eat? I’m starved and feel like getting a pizza,” Brent said.
Pam thought about how much she enjoyed Brent’s company, the many times they’d been to Shore Pizza at night, drinking too much beer and finally the owners coming over at midnight and telling them it was time to go home. The last time they’d gone was the night of Jack’s funeral. She looked up at her son, hoping he really wanted to be with her and wasn’t simply driven by pity.
“Are you sure? Because I’d love to,” she said.
“I’m sure.”
Chapter 23
Ashton got off the train and decided he’d walk the three miles to the cabin rather than hire a car. He didn’t know what he was going to do once he got there, and he needed the time to think. He was so distraught; he remembered feeling this way only one other time in his life, and that was the day Jack told him he was going to marry Pam. Up until that day, Ashton just assumed he and Jack would be life partners. They’d live in the village until other areas of the city became more progressive, adopt children, and have a life of wealth and prestige. In one morning, the notion that he was as important to Jack as Jack was to him came crashing down with a few words:
Our life isn’t going to change that much
. Thinking of that day caused a sob to escape from Ashton’s throat. It had ruined his life.
He thought when he married Ted, he was getting some restitution from the wasted years with Jack, and then Deborah had to come along. Ashton would have dealt with it, embracing her, building his life around her, even planning her wedding to Zach so it would turn up on the pages of the
New York Times
Style Section, in the same place Jack and Pam’s had been.
When he saw Natalie with that man, something shifted, some sense of decency, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to tolerate it. Natalie was his. He’d spent the last days trying to label what she meant to him, and he was unable to do so. He’d marry her if he could; his love for her was that intense. He was so confused. He even imagined a threesome, asexual, but Natalie, Ted and Ashton living together. So he was going to tell her, to ask her to help him sort through his feelings and to not see that man again. He prayed they hadn’t slept together yet. The thought of him touching that body of hers; he’d seen it himself, and the only word for it was plush. He was sorry he hadn’t had sex with her when he had the chance. Not making any sense, he knew he might be having some kind of breakdown. He was a gay man in temporary love with a woman. It was insane.
He trudged up the path to the cabin, aware that the sun had gone down sometime during his walk, and he didn’t even notice it was dark. There were shadowy figures on the porch, soft talking and laughter and a candle burning. He noticed the scent of citronella wafting toward him.
“Who’s there?” Natalie called out.
Ashton suddenly was shy, and embarrassed.
“Ashton,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He stopped in the path leading up to the cabin. “I came to ask you and your friend to forgive me.” This was not going the way he’d thought it would play out. He’d imagined getting in a wrestling match with the man, choking him to death. Now he was blubbering like a baby, begging her to forgive him.
“Ashton, are you kidding me? How did you get here?” Natalie came running down the steps and grabbed him in a hug, her arms circling him, squeezing him. He buried his face in her curls and could smell the shampoo she used. He let it out now, unable to talk because he was sobbing.