When my dad was home on the weekends, every meal was a celebration. She planned what we would eat down to the last crumb. Nothing was left to chance. She dealt with the house, all the repairs and improvements, the maintenance, paid the bills and did the banking. All my dad had to do on Friday was show up. She made that place an oasis for him. I don’t know how my dad started out life, but at the end of it, he loved the way my mother took care of him. He told Brent and I every time we were together that he loved our mother, that the way she took care of her family was a testimony of her love for us and that he knew how lucky he was. I don’t see how he could have been to blame for the AIDS. I took it for granted that what my dad was saying about his marriage was the truth. That it was information he shared with his wife. If he was unfaithful, well, I just don’t get it. Maybe he was infected when they got married and it took that long to incubate. Is that possible?
Chapter 34
The weekend started out dicey for Marie. She left the office with Steve Marks but forgot she was staying with him, and started walking toward her apartment.
“Whoa! Where are you going?” He exclaimed. “You’re coming with me tonight, remember?” Marie looked confused, and then memory fell into place. Right.
“Habit,” she answered. “How are we getting home?”
“Subway,” he said. “The stop is four blocks from my house.” She turned around with resolution, not thrilled that she had a trek ahead of her. Bingo! Another reason to stay here at her own place! She thought. They walked together side by side, and he glanced over at her, she was obviously exhausted. Her head was hanging down, and if her arms were long enough, she would have been dragging her briefcase along the pavement. “Here, let me take that,” he said, reaching for the handle. She gave it up willingly, but with a long sigh.
“I’m so tired today. Are we staying in tonight?” She asked. Hopefully, he hadn’t planned anything extravagant.
“We are. However, I do have something planned, but you don’t have to leave the apartment or lift a finger.” He smiled at her. Marie, suddenly energized at the thought of a surprise, picked up her step a little, but enough that he was able to see the impact he had on her. That small revelation would carry a lot of weight in their relationship. They walked to the station in silence, but she had a smile on her face.
When they arrived at his apartment, she was happy to see that he had made an effort to clean it up a little bit over the past few days, not that she was a neat nick or anything.
“I’m going to prepare your bath, Madam,” he told her, after he had thrown their briefcases into the hall closet. Her heart sunk; she wasn’t in the mood for a sex marathon tonight. He saw her countenance change and quickly said with a laugh, “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do a thing.” She looked at him with suspicion, but let it go. “Sit down here,” he shoved her into his ratty recliner and pulled the mechanism that lifted the foot section up. She immediately closed her eyes, but she had a smile on her face. Steve Marks went into the bathroom and got the basket of feminine goodies out of the linen closet. The clerk at the store told him to place the candles around the tub and light them after the bathtub was full. He put some smelly stuff into the bath water, and it bubbled up but not too much. Clean towels and a new, terrycloth bathrobe and the first part of the surprise was ready.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said to her. “Time for your bath.” She was clearly amused, and a little embarrassed by all the attention. But she allowed him to lead her into the bathroom. When she saw the transformation; the candles and the bubble bath, the flowers on the back of the toilet, she gasped.
“How lovely!” She said, smiling. Then she frowned. “Are you sure you don’t have an ulterior motive?”
“I swear to God, no.” Steve said. “You have so much going on right now, and I just wanted to do something to help you relax …” He had a broad smile on his face. “I’m going to leave now, although I would love to stay, humph, and watch.” They laughed, and Steve leaned over to kiss Marie. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” He left Marie, closing the door behind him. She looked around the tiny bathroom with one motive; to find the hidden camera. She went over every inch of the room and didn’t see anything that set off any alarm bells. She knew all about spy cameras; Jack was a pro at it. He videotaped almost every one of their sexual liaisons in her apartment. Her heart jumped in her chest thinking about it; where were those damn tapes? She hadn’t thought of them in months. Oh well, there is nothing I can do about it now, and if they are in the house and Pam finds them, at least she knows the truth. Deciding the comfort of the bath overshadowed the worry of her privacy being invaded; she did a striptease to the invisible lens and got into the water. For the first minutes, she overacted bathing, making sure to accentuate the washing of her breasts, standing up and scrubbing her crotch seductively and then finally, giving up with a laugh and getting back down in the water. It was so warm and the candlelight comforting. She relaxed completely. Lying back, she closed her eyes. She had never had a man do something like this for her. Jack had never done anything like this. Steve was really wooing her. Making an imaginary pro and con list, Marie thought of all the bad things about Steve first. He behaved badly when she first met him, harassing her and stalking her. He was obviously broke, although he hadn’t come out and said it. There must be a reason a man his age who had worked all his life didn’t have much to show for it. She was determined to find out what it was; or was she? She didn’t even know if that was important. And why hadn’t he ever married? That was creepy. She suddenly thought of her own marital history and had a laugh. She was creepy, too! She thought of her own fallibilities, how she had betrayed her own sister for most of her life and now had AIDS, the anorexia; she was a real prize.
So at the top of his pro list was that he was willing to overlook her diseased state. He was really interested in her. He wanted to protect her. The superficial stuff was that he was hot looking, no Jack by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn’t want that. She was thrilled that she didn’t feel overwhelmed by his appearance. Jack was too good to be true. Steve dressed nicely, had great teeth and breath and good hygiene. He was smart, maybe not the greatest common sense, but he had brains alright. He had a good sense of humor, didn’t take himself too seriously, and the most important thing to her right at that moment was that he wanted her. He lusted after her. He thought she was great looking and told her all the time. So the pros definitely outnumbered the cons. She’d give it whatever she had; she’d be honest with him, and loyal. She’d try to take better care of herself for his sake. Stop drinking so much, take her medication, and eat. She finished up her bath and was getting out when there was a knock on the door. She told Steve to come in.
“Are you finished? Am I too late to wash your hair?” He asked.
“What are you talking about?” Marie responded. “You think you’re Robert Redford?” She said, referring to the scene in Out of Africa where he washed Meryl Streep’s hair while they camped in the African bush. Steve was embarrassed, and she caught that and back pedaled.
“Hum, maybe that would be nice.” She got back in the water, smiling at him. He came over and sat at the edge of the tub.
“I’m not sure how to do this,” Steve confessed. “Do you want to dunk your head?” It was disarming that he thought washing her hair would be something that would bring her pleasure. She thought she would probably have to rewash it, but was willing to go along with it just to keep him from being shot down. She didn’t want to be responsible for any damaged egos so soon in the weekend.
“I’ll dunk down and you just take the shampoo and put it in your hand and then on my head. You don’t have to use too much.” She slipped down in the tub and wet out her hair, and then came back up, water streaming down her face. Steve started massaging the shampoo through Marie’s hair. He had such a peaceful look on his face; she imagined he must have planned for this evening for days. When she’d had enough, she said she thought
her hair was probably clean, and slid back down into the tub. For a second she imagined Steve reaching down and putting his hands around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. She popped back up, sputtering, water spraying from her lips. Steve backed off a little to prevent his clothes from getting wet.
“Are you okay?” He asked. She shook her head yes.
“I think I’ll get under the shower for a bit, get some of the suds off, okay? I’ll be right out.” She reached forward to pull the plug on the drain and Steve moved toward the door.
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” he said, smiling at her.
She dried off and put the terry robe on. Revived, she didn’t bother putting underpants on; she was ready for the night now. She left the bathroom and smelled beef cooking; he had set the table and lit tapers; the lights were off and the illumination was all candlelight.
“Wow! All this for me?” She asked, walking into the kitchen and going over to Steve as he tossed a salad. She reached her arms around to his front, pressing her body up against his back.
“I’ll have to think of something special to repay you with,” she teased. Steve put the salad tongs down and turned around to Marie, looking down at her in the robe.
“You look wonderful! Robe is a little big though.” He kissed her neck, slipping his hands under the terrycloth. “Your skin is so soft. I like everything about you.” He ran his hands over her back. Marie fell against him, enjoying the sensation of having someone want her for the right reasons, whatever those were.
“Will dinner keep if we wait to eat?” Marie asked.
“I’ll run out and buy more steak if it doesn’t,” Steve answered. “Allow me,” he said as he swept her up in his arms. She yelped.
“Yikes! You’re lucky I haven’t been eating lately.” She wrapped her arms around his neck as he navigated the narrow hallway back to his bedroom.
“You are light as a feather,” he replied. “Perfect, no matter what.” He nuzzled her neck. On the tip of his tongue were the words, “I love you,” but he swallowed them, not willing to put that pressure on either one of them for the evening. Give it some time, jerk. There will be plenty of time.
Chapter 35
Tom Adams pulled up to Sandra’s Eighty-Second Street apartment. He was going through the motions of getting out of the patrol car himself as she reached for the door handle.
“You don’t have to come in,” Sandra said, hoping he would get the hint. She was so exhausted, both mentally and physically that she didn’t think she would be able to deal with the most perfunctory interaction. Nothing good could come from their being together tonight.
He was taken aback.
“I know I don’t have to come in!” He laughed. “I’d have put you in a cab if the point was to just get you home.” But he wasn’t slow and he got it a few seconds later. “Unless, that is, you don’t want me to come in.” He stopped on the sidewalk and grabbed her arm as she was walking toward the apartment. He pulled her around to look at her face. She was white and drawn, dark circles under her eyes. It was the first time Tom had seen her look unkempt.
“What’s going on, Sandra? Are you okay?” He looked down into her eyes. She was unable to open her mouth, fear that a scream would escape that she’d be powerless to stop. Her face was set, lips quivering and eyes glassy. “Oh boy, I completely missed this on the ride uptown. You really aren’t doing too well, are you?” She shook her head no. “How about if we just go inside, you don’t have to say a word; and I’ll fix your dinner for you and get you settled, and then you can be alone for the night. Does that sound like a plan?” Sandra didn’t really want him there, but how could she say no to the kindness he was offering her? It might help her to pull out of this despair and uncertainty. So against her better judgment she shook her head yes. Digging through her bag, she got her keys out and handed them to Tom. If he wanted to help out, she would allow him to do everything. She wished he’d read her mind and sweep her up and carry her to the door. She mustered up the strength to walk toward her apartment. He sensed that something beyond the normal was at play here, not just food cart syndrome. Something greater than mourning for the dead boyfriend. She was struggling to stay ahead of the game. How long had she been in this condition? He wondered. He opened the door to her building and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her through the door. His touch energized her, propelling her along the hallway toward her apartment. They got inside and she went right to her bedroom, closing the door. He went into the kitchen to get her some tea and to see what there was available for dinner. She wasn’t one to keep a lot of food around, and he knew he was probably going to have to pull something together. He didn’t feel safe leaving her to go out, and if she wanted something he couldn’t fix, they could have it delivered. I’m like an Italian mother, he thought. He got her tea things together and put them on the tray she used to serve him numerous times. He went through the motions of preparing it as though it were an old ritual between them. It was the first thing she had done for him; prepare tea.
He knocked on her door with the tea tray in hand and opened it when she didn’t respond. She was lying on the bed in her suit skirt and shell, with her shoes still on, back to the door. He took the tray to the bedside table and put it down. She got up on her elbow and saw that he had made tea. The act was so simple, but so important to her, that she started to weep. He wasn’t used to seeing strong Sandra cry, and it scared him. He reached around her to pull the pillows up behind her back, like a nurse would do.
“Here’s your tea, honey.” He didn’t want to pump her for information like a cop, or tell her not to cry. He just wanted to be there for her. Tom took her shoes off and pulled the sheet and blanket up over her legs. There was a box of tissue on her nightstand and he gave it to her. She pulled one out and blew her nose, got another to wipe her eyes. Tom turned to the tea and took the bag out of her cup, adding one teaspoon of sugar to it, as she liked. She took the mug from him and held it in her hands, taking its warmth into her body. She blew on it and then took a sip.
“Oh, that is good. Thank you so much. You have no idea how badly I needed this.” Tom got a low stool that was in the room and brought it to her bedside to sit on. They didn’t say anything to each other, but he could see that she was relaxing, that whatever it was that had distressed her so much that afternoon was dissipating and she was feeling better. She drank more tea and leaned back against the pillows.
“I’m going to fix dinner now, okay? Do you want a refill?” Tom asked.
“I’m good for now. Thank you, Tom.” She said. She kept her hands wrapped around the mug, but she closed her eyes. There was a hint of a smile on her lips. Taking the tea tray with him, Tom went back into the kitchen and opened cupboards and refrigerator. She had some chicken broth and rice; he would make soup for her. She had a few stalks of wheezined looking celery, but he thought he could revive it in cold water. He laughed a little; it was a desperate meal, at the very most. It would stave off starvation until he could order something more for her if she wanted.
Sandra could hear Tom moving around her little kitchen. It was comforting having him there after all. She thought maybe her state of mind couldn’t be trusted, that maybe it would be smart not to make any rash decisions now, decisions she would later regret. He was a nice, gentle guy, not perfect, but kind and diligent. She felt safe, protected, and loved. He wasn’t going to have to leave shortly to get home to his wife and kids. He could answer her phone if it rang and not hide that he was there with her. If she wanted, he would probably stay the weekend with her in Manhattan. But suddenly, she didn’t want to stay there. She needed to get out of her apartment. She called for him, and he came to her room, a questioning look on his face.
“Do you feel like showing me your apartment tonight? I feel like I could benefit from getting out of the city. And I could finally see your place.”
“If that’s what you want, pack a bag and let’s go!” He replied cheerfully. “I’m
not having much luck with dinner preparation, by the way. You are getting chicken and rice soup.” She made a face.
“Let’s get Brooklyn pizza for dinner, okay?” She said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. When she stood up, he saw it. Blood.
“Oh boy,” he said, going to her. “You’re bleeding.” She swung around and when she saw the blood on the bed, cried out.
“The baby!”
“Do you have any cramps?” He asked her, reaching for the phone.
“No, well I thought it was the hot dog. I do have discomfort.”
“What’s your doctor’s number?” He asked. She pointed toward her purse. He got it for her and she dug through it for the appointment card they gave her the last time she was there. She spoke out the numbers and he dialed it and when it began to ring, handed the phone over to her.
“Get back in the bed, why don’t you?” He directed and she did as she was told. When the answering service picked up, she explained the situation.
“I’m about twenty-two weeks and am bleeding. How much?” She looked at Tom and then turned over so he could see the back of her skirt and the bedding. He took the phone from her.
Dream Lover: Pam of Babylon Book #3 Page 20