Soulmates

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Oh yes, Miss Smith, how do you do?”

  “Can I speak to Sandra?”

  “She’s not here,” Valarie said. “She left last night for the weekend.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “I think Philadelphia,” Valarie said. Pinpricks of pain danced along Pam’s arms, going up her chest and neck to her cheeks. I hope I’m not having a heart attack. Pam ended the call without saying goodbye. Valarie was a responsible adult; she’d look after baby Brent, who was at the getting into everything age. Pam had made it so easy for Sandra. Easy enough that she could leave her toddler for an entire weekend over and over again.

  Attempting to block out an incident that occurred the previous fall, Pam returned a call from Sandra and Valarie had answered the phone that day as well.

  “Miss Pam,” she’d said, “Miss Benson went on a boat to Cape May.” Pam was speechless; the night before Jason said he was taking the boat down to Cape May to have some bright work repaired. They’d laughed about it because she hated boats so it was never an option for her to go along.

  “Did she say she was going with Dr. Bridges?” Pam asked calmly, not as if it hurt to speak, her vocal cords in spasm she was so angered by the news.

  “Yes,” Valarie replied. “Dr. Bridges.” After instructing Valarie to tell Sandra she’d called, Pam hung up the phone in the hallway, numb. Walking to her bedroom nearly in a trance, she was determined not to react. Sandra was available to go on the boat, and she wasn’t. Jason was apparently no longer able to do things without a companion. It was up to Pam to weigh the importance of the action, but it would be over her dead body that she confronted Jason or Sandra. Let Valarie do the exposé.

  Back in the limo, everyone was looking at her waiting, but she couldn’t speak. Could it be possible that Sandra went to be with Jason?

  “Well, where was she?” Nelda asked, but Pam just shook her head, a strange loyalty to Jason preventing her from telling the truth, afraid to hear what they might say about him. Closing her eyes, the pressure in the car rose increasing the pain in her head to excruciating. Looking out the window, she saw the house as the limo pulled up. Her fortress, that house. Fortunately, the neighbors hadn’t heard yet; she could get out of the car and inside without them accosting her. The family did their best to help her out, gather her things, get her into the house. Going directly to her room, Pam shut the door, needing to be alone until she started to feel. The sound of a well-meaning voice, telling her how to feel or what she should do next might push her to the edge. She’d walk the tightrope, wanting to maintain balance because if she fell, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get up again.

  Chapter 2

  Her room was cool and dark and no sound from the rest of the house could penetrate it. Standing in the center, she tried to feel Jack, but he’d abandoned her. The night before, she dreamed about him and the dreams woke her up as she cried out in her sleep for the ghostly specter. Completely alone after suffering catastrophic loss over the past five years; widowhood, loss of a child, illness and betrayal, being stood up at the altar by Jason was about a number two on the pyramid of importance if ten the most important. She laughed when she thought of it that she’d compared what Jason had done to her as a number two. The few things that hurt less than what he’d done that day included forgetting to check the expiration date on a quart of milk before she bought it. He was almost a zero. Maybe therein laid the problem.

  Introspection not productive, she’d get out of the dress. Avoiding mirrors, she tried to undo the fasteners at the back but was unable to reach them. She went into the bathroom and dug through a basket of old items, unused but useful, that she’d salvaged from Jack’s drawer before the bathroom renovation. There she found a pair of his delicate mustache scissors, and starting at her waist; she carefully stuck the pointed tip into the side seam and began to cut. She wanted to cut it off her completely, but being sensible, and also knowing her mother-in-law would have a fit if she knew Pam had cut up a ten thousand dollar dress, she just released the seam. It was easy to pull it off after that, being extra careful not to rip into the fabric.

  Getting the crystal strand out of her hair was a more difficult task; Pam’s hairdresser wove it around her own hair and a few fake locks, making it impossible to untangle on her own. In frustration, after pulling it into a cockeyed mess, she’d leave it alone until after washing the makeup off her face. She didn’t want anything left of the day on her body, no reminders of pomp and circumstance, of hopes for a life with Jason. What the hell had happened?

  Finally having the courage to look at her reflection, the stranger staring back at her had no answers. The numbness transcended anger so she could get through the day until the feeling returned. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Slipping her feet into sandals, she’d walk the beach. It was early enough in the season that she wouldn’t have to step around mounds of bodies and late enough in the day that curiosity seekers would have gone home.

  “Can one of you help me with this hair?” She asked, walking into the kitchen. Lisa and Dan were still there, sitting at the kitchen counter. Lisa had been crying but was pulling it together. Nelda was preparing a late lunch while Bernice paced, her cane tapping the floor. They looked up as she spoke, sighs of relief audible. Pam was a trouper.

  “Come here, dear,” Bernice said, pointing to a chair. Pam sat down and Lisa and Bernice worked on her hair for five minutes, pulling hairpieces and crystals out of the mess.

  “Put it into a ponytail, will you? I need to take a walk.”

  “There are reporters out in front,” Dan said gently.

  “What about in back? I’ll wear a scarf and dark glasses.” He disappeared into the veranda.

  “The beach is empty,” he said. “Take pepper spray.” He’d purchased pepper spray for all the women, preparing for the day the mother of his baby, Cara Ellison, a former Miss New York, who’d assaulted him, was released from jail.

  “Okay,” Pam said, not arguing. She’d blast anyone who dared to get in her way.

  “Won’t you eat a little something first?” Nelda asked.

  “Mother, even the thought of food makes me want to hurl,” Pam said firmly, the others agreeing, giggling at the word foreign to Pam’s lips.

  “Mom, we’re going back to Smithtown to pick up Gladys and the kids,” Lisa said, hugging her. “We’ll be back in an hour.” Pam squeezed her arm.

  “Thank you, honey, I really appreciate it.” She went to the pantry and grabbed a grocery bag. Bernice frowned.

  “You’re going to pick up trash on a day like this?”

  “Yes. What better time. Hopefully, I’ll find glass, too,” Pam answered. Beach glass. The world could come to an end, and if she found a piece of beach glass it would make her happy for a little longer. I’m a simpleton, she thought snickering. So shoot me.

  The sun was starting its descent behind the house. What a complete waste of a day, but maybe I can salvage some of it. She’d focus on the water and the sand, looking for beach glass, practicing deep breathing. In, to the count of ten, out to the count of ten. In, out. What is wrong with me? A therapist could most likely diagnose her quickly. One failed relationship after another. She jumped into relationships before getting to know the men well enough.

  Going back into the house, she retrieved her phone, dialing Jason’s number. It went to voice mail and she hung up before the recording started. The temptation to call every five minutes was intense. He’d see her number on his phone.

  Stepping onto the wooden walkway that Jack had built for Bernice when she broke her ankle years before, leading from the veranda to the water, peace flooded her. Pam was no longer at the mercy of what Jason had done, the disaster at the church a distant memory. She was simply Pam. Widowed, a mother of one living child and one dead, a grandmother of two. Baby Brent fit into the grandparent picture, but Pam needed to work out where Sandra fit when she was thinking more clearly; right now she couldn’t even remember what she had
for breakfast that morning.

  As she walked north, she concentrated on the specific details of the beach. The sound of the waves crashing on the sand, the fine line of brown foam left behind when the wave retreated, the tiny sea creatures burrowing into the wet compacted sand at the water’s edge. The smells of seaweed and beach roses. The wind blowing sand against her face, the sun overhead, blue sky, ships out to sea.

  Not for what Jason had done, but for her past, she started to cry. She wanted Jack, Brent and her sister, Marie to be alive, the children to be little, the most important thing she had to do for the day was to cook their dinner. The concept of the death of a young person mystified her; it was so final, so unfair. Expecting to hear Jack’s voice any second or even Brent’s day after day was torture. Would that ever go away? Did she want it to? Her memories kept her sane. Or did they? There was nothing else to take their place.

  She thought of Sandra again, the mother of her grandson. What did she owe Sandra? Since Brent was dead, Pam would be the benefactor of baby Brent; or not. She had a vindictive need to punish Sandra and withdrawing support would be the most effective way to do it.

  The aftermath of Pam’s phone call answered by Valarie on the day of the boat trip to Cape May last fall began with return calls from both Sandra and Jason that night, apologetic, almost bordering on hysteria. They were so sorry for the apparent betrayal, but they were claiming innocence. She wanted the boat ride and he needed a companion in case he needed to go below. Pam knew it was an absurdity, but it was her nature to take things at face value and she’d forgiven them both, refusing to allow fantasy to take over and ruin her relationship. But she had to ask Sandra about one detail.

  “Did you wear your thong bathing suit?” Sandra denied it vehemently. Now Pam wondered if they hadn’t made their calls while they were still together. Not wanting to believe they were having an affair, Jason didn’t seem to have it in him. But whatever they were doing made her feel insecure and that made it wrong.

  Coming back to the present time on the beach, a half hour north and two pieces of beach glass later, she turned around and headed toward home. Looking down as she walked, she was unaware of observers on the access roads noticing her, pointing and whispering. News traveled fast in Babylon. The cupola with the brass weathervane on top of her house came into view just as a suntanned, white-haired man appeared. Jeff, the last person she wanted to see.

  “Are you okay?” he hollered. She had to laugh. What a dork. Just tell the world already.

  “I’m okay,” she shouted back. He’d also be the last person on earth she’d confide in, ever again.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked when he came along side her.

  “Not to you,” she said, snickering.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jeff replied softly. She heard the regret in his voice, but it didn’t make any difference. “I’m so sorry I betrayed your confidence.”

  “Tell it to my attorney,” she said. He chuckled.

  “Okay, I deserved that. As unbelievable as it seems, I do believe you are going to be alright.”

  “I’m okay,” she repeated. “I think I was just saved from a lifetime of hell.”

  “Did you have any idea?” Pam stopped and pulled her sunglasses off.

  “Jeff, stop with the questions. I’m not discussing it with you. Ask your brother-in-law if you want answers.” She slipped her glasses on and walked faster toward the house. “And don’t bother me again, Jeff. Ever.” With that, she went into the veranda, but remembering something, she stepped back out. “And return my house key. I’ll send Dan over this afternoon for it.” She was glad she’d made the last comment because it did her good to see the look of regret and remorse on Jeff’s face. He’d brought it on himself.

  Her best friend after Jack died, Pam trusted Jeff as she had no other person. Without Jeff, she would have been alone while the children were away at college. His betrayal was so devastating, ending their friendship was the only choice she had. Pretending nothing had happened between them was not an option. It would have been so nice to have Jeff and his new husband, Ted close by, a ready-made, built in family. But for whatever reason the universe saw fit, it wasn’t to be.

  What was the reason any of this had happened? She hated it when people used the expression it happened for a reason. What possible reason? She reminded herself that someone else was sure to fill the void distancing Jeff left, making the loneliness bearable. The key was not to look too far ahead. Today, she had her family, and that would be enough.

  Lisa and Dan returned with the children and Gladys, filling the next hours with the sound of two boys; one-year old Marcus and his younger half-brother, Dan, Jr., the son of former Miss New York, Cara Ellison. Marcus loved the baby already. Lisa put Dan, Jr. on a blanket on the floor and Marcus would sit next to him, keeping him occupied with toys and the occasional dirty finger to suck.

  Sister Megan, two and a half going on thirty-six, asked undecipherable questions non-stop and was Lisa’s daughter with her late husband, Ed. And lastly, Miranda, Marie’s daughter, a quiet four-year old who was content to stay close to Lisa and observe. Lisa’s usual posture was with a baby on her hip, Miranda next to her with Lisa’s hand on her shoulder. Unconsciously, every so often Lisa would gently pull the little girl closer to her and rub her arm, the love between the two of them obvious.

  Until recently when they broke up, Sandra and her ex-boyfriend, New York cop Tom had had conditional custody of Miranda after Marie’s death. During that time, they never mentioned Marie’s name and others were reluctant to bring it up in case it would make Sandra and Tom uncomfortable.

  After the break up, Miranda came to live with Lisa and Dan. Slowly, the family was introducing your real mommy into conversations. “Your real mommy had the same color hair as you.”

  “You have the exact same eye color as your real mommy.”

  “Your real mommy is in heaven,” Gladys had said to her. If Miranda was thinking about Marie, she kept it to herself.

  Sandra didn’t put up a fight that Lisa was taking Miranda now that she had son Brent to occupy her time. He was Pam’s grandson from her late son Brent.

  Back at Pam’s, Lisa was attempting to help her adapt to her new family. “Do you want to play with Megan and Granny Gladys?” Lisa asked. Miranda shook her head and crept in a little closer.

  “The reception must be over,” Dan said when the phone started to ring. Lisa, Nelda and Pam circled the machine, screening calls. Anyone who really wanted to talk to her would call her cell phone and so far, only Jeannie and Pam’s sisters got in touch.

  “I hope you’re okay,” Susan said, then correcting herself. “Well, of course, you’re okay! This is small potatoes after what you’ve been through. We were going to stop by if that was okay. Let me know by four.”

  “What do you think?” Pam asked Nelda.

  “Let them come if you think it will help you. I don’t have to see either one. How friggin sad is that?” Pam patted her arm.

  “Sorry, Mother. I’m going to tell them to come because we might not see them again for a long time. I don’t know about all of you, but I’m sick to death of hosting parties here and never getting a reciprocal invitation.”

  “Not to mention they’ve barely acknowledged Marcus’ birth. Now that ticks me off,” Nelda said, bristling.

  “Noni I really don’t care about it. I’m used to it after no one sent me a card after Megan was born.”

  “People have no manners,” Bernice said. “It’s like they’ve forgotten how to say thank you.” The women looked at Bernice and sadly nodded their heads. No one said it out loud, but they were all thinking; things had changed since Jack died. They would have been deluged with well wishes from all of his friends and business associates.

  “When you graduated from high school, did you realize we opened a bank account just to keep track of the checks you received?” Pam said. “I’ve got a storage container in the attic of greeting cards Daddy’s friends sent yo
u.”

  “Someday when we don’t have anything better to do, let’s dig that out,” Bernice said and they agreed.

  “Anyway, I have to send all those damn gifts back now. How many times did we have to say no gifts? Or write no gifts, please? I should make Jason do it, but we all know how reliable he is.”

  “At least you had fun over the past year,” Nelda said.

  ***

  Life at the beach certainly wasn’t static that year with Pam rarely home on the weekends, spending more time antiquing and flea marketing with Jason. Bernice and Annabelle played cards while Nelda or former-mother-in-law Gladys spent several days a week at Lisa’s house, helping with her brood. Nanny Daniela had been with Lisa and Dan for a year already. But with two infants, they really needed a third pair of hands and Dan liked Nelda around more than Gladys. She was the only one in the family who understood his special brand of sarcasm.

  Gearing up to fight Cara’s parole; in less than a week, she’d be eligible, and with eligibility, they feared that she’d demand visitation or worse, custody of baby Dan. Lisa’s attorney was laying the groundwork for Lisa to adopt Dan Junior and it looked promising as long as Cara finished out the fifteen-year sentence for assaulting Dan Senior with a frying pan.

  With four children to care for Lisa was barely hanging on. Nursing both babies, she couldn’t drink. But the lure of a cocktail every day at lunch was becoming almost impossible to ignore. Finally, in a fit of righteous indignation, she told Dan she didn’t want alcohol in the house.

  “Why? I rarely take a drink,” he argued.

  “Yes, but lately it’s all I think of. If I weren't so busy, I’d go to AA.” Dan scratched his head, worried about the deeper meaning of what his wife was trying to say, not wanting to take it lightly but, on the other hand, placing too much importance on something that hadn’t happened yet didn’t seem wise.

  “You need a break,” he said. “Your grandmother is here with the nanny. Take off. Go shopping, get a massage, join a club. Do something for yourself.” None of that appealed to her though. Never a joiner, Lisa was a stay at home even as a teenager. Secretly, she knew the problem was her marriage to Dan, how it had damaged her relationship with Pam. Essentially, she was in an unhappy marriage and rather than face it squarely, that her husband had been unfaithful, she was trying to move on without dealing with it. Needing to find a way to forgive him and stay married to Dan now that she knew what he was capable of, was taking more energy than she had. Lisa felt like they were always on the brink of some disaster and was afraid the anxiety it produced would eventually hurt her children by making them feel insecure.