Dream Lover: Pam of Babylon Book #3

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “You’re really a pig, you know that?” Marie said to Steve Marks after she hung up the phone from talking to Pam. They were sitting on her couch, looking at the view and drinking wine. He wasn’t thrilled with her drinking, but didn’t want to start hounding her about it. The relief over him not contracting HIV was palpable. He would have to go back in six weeks for another test, but the case worker assured him that he probably was safe.

  “What did I do now?” He asked, confused.

  “You left your rubber full of spunk in my bed at my sister’s house and Miss Perfect found it. I thought she was going to explode she was so angry.” Steve turned bright red. “I have seen her hear the worst news a woman can hear and nothing made her as mad as your condom did.” Marie started laughing hysterically. “Yes, I’d keep my distance if I were you.”

  “Oh no, that’s horrible! I feel awful. That’s disgusting! I’ll never be able to face her now.”

  “She saw your bare ass while you were fucking me; I think she’ll get over a little sperm.” Marie was already sick of talking about it. Pam could be such a prude. After what her husband had done, leaving a rubber behind in a bed shouldn’t seem like such a big deal.

  “What do you want for dinner?” Steve stood and up and stretched. He had discovered during that first week together that he would be the responsible party for food preparation. In spite of her food issues, Marie always knew what she wanted or didn’t want.

  “Not that pasta crap again. Anything else,” she replied. He walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. His feelings were hurt. He’d made her his famous pasta carbonara.

  “How about grilled cheese again? Look, if you want me to cook, do you think you could get something in here besides Spaghetti-O’s and American cheese? Meet me half way, will you?” Steve decided they were going out; he couldn’t stand the thought of another grilled cheese sandwich.

  “There’s nowhere to shop here.” He went back into the living room and held out his hand for her to take.

  “Come on, we are getting out of here. I hate this place; you hate it, why the hell are we staying here? Pack a bag.” She took his hand and let him pull her to a standing position. “Where’s your suitcase?” He asked. He’d help her pack; the routine was slowly developing in which Marie was allowing Steve to take over, almost as completely as Jack had. Only Steve didn’t have Jack’s money. And he didn’t really want the control. This apartment was creepy; with just the single giant window wall that looked out unto sky only unless you looked down, and the small, airless bedroom. He thought of his second floor walkup with the quaint molding and fireplace, the cool neighborhood and convenient shopping. He might be sixty plus years old, but he wasn’t ready to die in this dead place.

  “How much should I pack?” Marie asked. “What day is it?”

  “Pack as much as you can; I don’t want to have to come back here for a couple of days.” He was thinking about the weekend; what would they do? He was broke. That left out most activities in Manhattan. Because of his faux pas, they probably wouldn’t be invited to the beach anytime soon. He’d resort to finding free things to do like a college student had to.

  “I’ll bring beach stuff. I can’t remember what I left there. Should we take the rental car?” Marie seemed unable to make a decision about anything. “If I leave it here, we’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow to go to the beach. If we take it, I won’t have anywhere to park.” She sat on the bed, scratching her head.

  “If we need the car, we’ll come get it, okay? You don’t have to worry about that now.” He suspected her car, the one in the repair shop thanks to him, was a gift from the previous boyfriend. A car theft may be welcome if they ever got it back. Marie went into the bathroom to get her toiletry bag while Steve zipped her suitcase closed and they prepared to leave. “Good bye, apartment. See you later,” he said to the air.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” Marie said. The oppression was palpable. He wondered if she would gradually feel better after being away from such a grim place. “I need to get rid of this apartment.” They walked to the garage, having decided to take a risk and park the car on the street. Thousands of people did it every day with no trouble.

  “When we get home, I’ll pick something up from the Grill Bar down the street; it’s getting too late to make a big deal about cooking tonight. Is that okay with you?” Another issue was her weight; she would probably be thrilled to skip dinner. But not on his watch. What are you doing? He thought. An anorexic, twenty years younger than you are, with a ton of baggage. They got to Steve’s apartment and found parking right in front; Marie could keep an eye on the damn car all night if she wanted. After they got settled, Marie with a stack of menus in her hand, Steve sorted through his mail. The credit card bills were two inches thick. He slipped them into his desk drawer. She didn’t need to know all of his garbage this soon, did she? In time, they would learn things about each other that would make them question the wisdom of their relationship, but for now, he would just leave it alone.

  Chapter 24

  Alyssa

  My mind is made up. I’m going to Babylon to confront Jack’s wife. The contract doesn’t say that for Eric’s lifetime I can’t approach anyone who knows Jack. For sure, I am reading between the lines. Sandra is next. I’ll see her later. She almost caught us together that time; would she remember that encounter? Jack certainly wouldn’t want her to know he was screwing a college student in his office, now would he?

  The thing that has pushed me to making the trip, to jeopardizing the money is this. While he was fucking me he whispered to me, “You are my dream lover, do you know that? I have been waiting for you. I’ll do anything for you.” If he said that to me once, he said it fifty, one hundred times. He told me he liked little girls. Those exact words. “I like young girls. I like you little girls,” he said. He was feeling my breasts, well, where my breast should be because I am completely flat chested, and I said something like, “I’m so flat there,” and he just moaned while he was feeling me up. “I like little girls.” Of course, in a court of law an attorney would argue that what Jack meant was ‘little’ as in ‘small of stature.’ That’s total bull shit. He liked young girls. He went down on me and came just by looking at me; I’m also hairless, like a child. So guess what? I decided that I am going to use that information about the famous Jack Smith. There are so many tabloids that would love a story like that.

  But that’s not all. Another friend, a bartender friend in the Village, saved a paper for me, one of those obscure rags that publish poetry of local jerks and also run ads for sex therapy clinics that people hold in their own apartments. There was an ad looking for people who knew Jack! I might be dumb when it comes to stuff like choosing men, but I read in between the lines, as did my bartender friend. It was an ad looking for Jack’s bed partners. I have seen enough of them to know it means he is on the health department’s most wanted list for spreading AIDS around town. He was a real sicko.

  Well, forget everything I said. It was all hot air. I went to Babylon to confront the wife. And guess what? She was so lovely, I backed right down. I could hardly be cruel to someone who acknowledged me, who validated me. I took the damn train and it was horrible with Eric; I thought he would love it and he ended up hating every second of it. Trying to keep him in his seat was a nightmare; the other passengers were furious with me, but there was nothing I could do. He wouldn’t stay put.

  When we pulled into Babylon, I almost lost my nerve, but gave myself a negative pep talk about what she owed me. If she had kept an eye on Jack, none of this would have happened. By the time the cab pulled up to her house, I was back in form, ready for a fight.

  She opened the door and looked from my face to Eric’s, then back to my face. You could see the recognition on her face. And then, shocking the hell out of me, she gave us a huge grin.

  “Well! What do you know! Come right in!” She said. “I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place!” She held the doo
r open for us, smiling as we walked in. “I’m Pam Smith, but I guess you already know that. And you and the young man are?”

  “I’m Alyssa and this is Eric.” He was exhausted from the trip and actually docile. She led us to a beautiful patio and offered us a seat. She gave me lemonade and Eric a glass of milk, and brought out a plate of cookies. She kept up chatter the entire time she was serving us. I knew as soon as I saw her that my original plan was ridiculous. She wasn’t the cause of my stupidity. It wasn’t her fault that Jack was a jerk. Although she never bad mouthed him, I could tell that she was appalled by his actions.

  “Tell me about you,” she asked. “Are you finished with school? It must be a handful with a little one.” She was interested in me as a person; concerned over the job I had being a single parent. After we had our refreshments we walked on the beach. She played with Eric, running with him and showing him shells and seaweed that had washed up on the sand.

  “May I give your name to a mutual friend of mine and Jack’s? Her name is Sandra. I think you would like each other very much,” Pam offered. Then, with some reservation, “Are you healthy?” She looked at me with fear when she asked that question, and I reassured her without divulging too much. I felt like I owed someone so graceful the respect that I didn’t get. I just couldn’t lower myself to get revenge. She was such a lady that I felt empowered to rise above what Jack had done to me. I thought when I left Pam‘s house that I would finally be able to move forward. I believe she made it possible for me to forgive myself.

  I wondered how someone as depraved as Jack Smith could have such a nice woman for a wife. I doubt if I will ever see her again. Although Eric is her children’s half-brother, it seems unlikely that they will meet. But stranger things have happened. For one thing, I am ready to date. There is a guy at work who has asked me to dinner several times. I might give him a chance. I have a lot to offer the right guy. For one thing, I am really rich.

  Chapter 25

  As September unfolded, the weather went from summer to fall, and Pam fell into a comfortable place, once again. Her life wasn’t turning out as differently as she thought it would be without Jack. There were many things to look forward to each day after all. She absolutely loved autumn. Every morning brought a new change in the weather. There were summer-like days where she would put her shorts on and grab her straw hat and sit on the beach to read for hours like she used to do when the children were home. They would play in the surf with their friends who lived inland and would show up in droves every morning, exhausted looking mothers and fathers dropping them off on their way to work, grateful that Pam was willing to keep an extra half dozen kids all day all long. The truth was she loved it. She shopped for their lunches and snacks with as much thought as if she were going to entertain royalty. Although she was sad that those days were gone, the peace of sitting on the beach and not having to worry about anyone else’s child drowning was lovely. If she got lonely enough, she would ask her sisters to visit and that would take care of her desire to have kids around. Those little monsters would drive the impulse to have children from the most saintly of mothers. She thought of Alyssa and Eric; maybe someday. Maybe after Sandra had the baby she would invite them all for the day.

  Brent and Lisa stayed in touch with their mother. When it rained or was too cold to walk or sit on the beach, Pam spent hours packing boxes of homemade cookies and other goodies, books she thought they might like and funny t-shirts she saw, and sending the packages off. They both loved getting things from home.

  The day after the kids left to go back to school, Pam went to her favorite garden center and got everything she would need to decorate the yard for fall. She bought giant pumpkins, dried corn stalks, bunches of bittersweet, bales of straw, braided ropes of garlic, giant gourds, huge decorative kale and the piece de resistance; a scarecrow. She decorated both the front of the house and the back, a titillating surprise for beachcombers to discover. It was a tradition in the neighborhood that the Smith house would be the first one on the block to celebrate the end of the tourist season. Although you rarely heard it spoken out loud, many locals hated having to leave their homes between July 4th and Labor Day. Didn’t people realize that their behavior would have consequences somewhere down the road? Pam didn’t mind. She loved everything about living in Babylon, even the tourists. They acted as that important counter-irritant that would make her appreciate it even more when they left town.

  On cooler fall days, Pam would put a sweater on and grab a plastic grocery bag and go out for a beach walk. She would go north first and walk as long as she could before reaching the inlet that led to the canals. Then she would turn and go south, passing by her house and going as far as the causeway. She always came home with a bag full of beach finds; shells, beachglass and the ever present litter. Nelda stayed in the city after all, choosing to spend her days as Bernice’s companion. The two women enjoyed the same things; shopping, playing cards, a good bottle of scotch. Pam was thinking of spending winter there with her mother and mother-in-law, but was keeping her options open.

  Definitely a creature of habit, Pam loved her routine. She didn’t care for the intrusion into her life that another man would cause. Maybe the reason she and Jack lasted all those years stemmed more from her need to be left alone than her having her head stuck in the sand. Andy hadn’t called her yet, and it was a relief after all. He would have expected more from her than she was willing to give.

  Chapter 26

  Pam

  I feel like I am getting stronger every day. My life has been a lie, and I am ready to come clean and start over. The most difficult part of this will be talking to my children. They will be home over Christmas, but I don’t want to wait that long. I would rather we be on neutral turf when I turn their world upside down and not do it over the phone, but how is that possible? The three of us will have to find a way to move on.

  I’m healthy as a horse. I know I must avoid stress and watch my diet and I’m even more obsessive about exercise and eating right then I was before. Before Jack died. My doctor is wonderful. I have never felt ostracized by his staff. Having AIDS has been good for me. I know that sounds like a contradiction. It forced me to take stock of what is important.

  My life up until last summer was made up of increments of time that were spent doing senseless and unnecessary things. Going from one task to the next; I know I was wasting time until Jack got home. Day after day, year after year, I prepared for his arrival, and then when he got here, I was lonelier than when I was alone. We could be in the same room and I was lonely. He wasn’t completely with me, and now I know that is exactly what the problem was. He was keeping the biggest part of himself separate from me. What is it about women, me in particular who would allow a life to be wasted because of fear? I was afraid to get what I needed, what I deserved, what was rightfully mine. My mother said that to me at one time. Why did I always put myself last? She said I relinquished that which was mine to my sisters. Where Marie had been concerned, that was true. I had turned my head when my suspicions were aroused. My husband was having sex with her. I knew something was wrong, my intuition telling me over and over that there was something not right about their relationship. Yet I as much as promoted it by sticking my head in the sand. That is my biggest regret!

  I cannot deny that my children have to have been affected by what was going on. Children know, they are silent observers and they see more than you think they do. What is the very worst that I did was to hide in my bedroom on the other side of the house, designed that way so that our bedroom would be away from the children’s two bedrooms, and all along their father was having sex with their aunt in the next room. I wonder how I can come out and ask them if they ever heard anything. I know noise carries from that part of the house. Would it be cruel? If they did hear sounds, they are probably doing their best to stifle it, to cover it up. Would I be doing them a favor by allowing them to purge such knowledge? Or making it worse by acknowledging it? It is never too late to be h
onest. I have to remember that.

  Exposing Jack’s lies has helped me to understand so much about myself. Of course, I regret the time I wasted. After the children left for college, during that first year both were gone, it should have been so obvious that something was amiss. I am still processing how I could have been so blind. If Jack had lived, I’m positive we would be getting a divorce right now because his relationship with Sandra would have been discovered and he would have probably left me to live with her once he found out she was pregnant. That has been a bitter pill to swallow.

  Yesterday I had a dream about my dad. Not exactly a dream, more of a daydream. I was lying in bed thinking about everything that has happened this past summer. I remembered how he once told us at the dinner table, barely able to get the words out he was so emotional, that having four daughters who were all nice girls had humbled him. He didn’t know why he deserved such good fortune. It was lies of course, Marie was horrible to him and worse to Nelda, and caused them so much anxiety by the anorexia. She should have directed her misery toward Jack, but it was just the opposite. She worshiped him. That is why I hold her partially responsible. She may have been considered blameless because she was a child, but she provoked much of what happened to her, I am certain. She and Jack were made for each other. I wonder how many young people she protected by being the sacrificial lamb.

  But to get back to my father, I thought about how he got up at five every single day of the week, sick or not, and went to his job working for the city. He was one of the men who wore that mucky green uniform. My mother spent a good part of her life washing and ironing those uniforms; men who worked in the subway tunnels didn’t take their uniforms to the cleaners. I saw her doing that every week, and she would hum while she was ironing his clothes. My father had installed a metal bar in our kitchen that fit into a pipe attached to the wall and as she ironed, she would hang his uniforms on this bar. On ironing day, we would come home from school and there would be a big pot of chicken soup on the stove and my dad’s uniforms hanging neatly from the bar. The ritual never varied; he came home from work and lifted the bar out of the pipe, carrying it into their bedroom and transferring his uniforms to the closet bar. He’d change his clothes and wash up and we would be waiting for them with the table set and the soup ready to be served. He and my mother came out of the bedroom, smiling at us. I often think that is why I made such a big deal out of taking care of Jack’s clothes. I mean, it was almost a full time job. He appreciated it, too. I’m not sorry I did it now. My mother did it as an act of worship, and I took that on myself.