Don't You Forget About Me: Pam of Babylon Book #2
Page 7
They stood up, the men taking their mugs to the kitchen. Sandra was glad she had straightened up her apartment. She noticed the one named Tom looking around, admiring the place. They waited while she got her purse and keys.
Jim motioned down the stairs with his finger. “Want me to take another look? I’ll check the locks again.”
Sandra nodded yes, smiling.
Upon return, he validated her concern. “I smelled a smell down there, too,” he said.
Great, she thought. What the hell could it be?
Chapter 10
Pam and Andy spent a full hour in the grocery store, discussing likes and dislikes, comparing brands, arguing about the benefits of buying organic, local, in season. He had picked up a bunch of tomatoes from Chile.
“I don’t think so!” she exclaimed. “Let’s buy hydroponics, grown ten miles from here.”
“They cost four dollars a pound!” he said.
“Too bad. You aren’t putting that garbage in your body. Do you think it has one nutrient left after it’s been on a freight train for three days? No way!” She took him by the arm and dragged him to the other side of the veggie case. “All of these greens were harvested right here this weekend. We’ll make a salad with a few peas and some yummy early peppers thrown in. It’s too early for tomatoes in the mid-Atlantic.”
He laughed, surprised at her passion for food. “Did you shop like this when Jack was alive?” he asked, honestly interested.
“About four times a week,” she said. “I was at the farmers’ market every day during the weekend. Now that my mother is cooking, I never think about it. It has left a void because it was something I enjoyed. Not baking or fancy things. Meat and potatoes. Fish and salad. Boring stuff.”
“Those are my kind of meals,” Andy said. “Replace the potato with macaroni.”
They pushed the cart together over to the fresh pasta aisle.
“I probably won’t make it from scratch. Is this okay?”
He nodded. “The truth is I like the old-fashioned dry kind, too.”
She put several packages in the basket. He thought that was a good sign. She was stocking up for him.
They finished their shopping and drove back to Pam’s house. She was starting to feel a little weary. Would she ever again want to be around someone twenty-four/seven? She wondered if he expected her to spend the evening with him after they ate, even though they had spent the day together. They got to the beach and unloaded the groceries. It was nearing six, not too early to eat. She would grill steaks out on the veranda.
“Can you boil water?” she asked Andy.
“Barely. Do you want me to do the pasta?”
“Do you mind? We can fire up the stove out there.” They gathered up all the things they would need to cook outside.
The beach crowd was starting to thin out as dinnertime approached. Pam had loved this time of the evening when Jack was alive. He would come in from his day of activity and, after he showered, keep her company while she prepared their meal. Now knowing that he had spent the day with her sister and probably had sex with her, too, didn’t diminish the impact the time they spent together had on her. Feeling like a deflated balloon, she plunked down in a chair. Andy could see that something had distressed her.
“What just happened?” he asked her. They had decided early on that, no matter how painful, honesty had to be the best policy. He sat down beside her, looking out over the ocean. Gulls were crying, and the waves were hitting the beach with force today.
“I guess I’m thinking of someone who I used to do these things with, someone who I thought was a certain type of person and who turned out to be a much different man.” She had never divulged any of the gruesome details of her marriage; Andy knowing her financial status was quite enough for starters.
Andy didn’t know if he should say anything in response to her statement. If she wanted to elaborate, she could. He was tempted to offer to leave, but thinking that may be what she wanted, he hesitated. “How so?” he finally asked.
She looked at him. “Do you really want to know? I’m not sure you should. It will change your opinion of me; that’s inevitable. I can almost hear you thinking, ‘How could she be so stupid?’ And I don’t know that I am ready to out Jack to you yet. We don’t know each other well enough.” She felt a strong loyalty to her late husband, no matter how horrible a reprobate he may have been. She didn’t think she could bear being put into a position of having to defend him, especially to an almost stranger.
“I think I know what you mean. There are things about my wife that explain a lot about the man that I am, but it wouldn’t be loyal of me to expose her frailties to you yet.”
She was looking at him, thinking, You have no idea.
“And I promise you, no matter what were to happen between us, I will never toss anything Jack did up to you.” It was the first time he had used Jack’s name. It lingered in the air above their heads for a few seconds, vibrating. Jack.
“Okay, well, suffice it to say that he was not the man I thought he was. That’s about all I can get out right now. He was…unfaithful. That is a mild word for what he was to our marriage.” She sat back, certain now that she was not cooking dinner for them. “Look, Andy, I am in a state. Thank you for not trying to talk me out of it. I think it’s just part of the grieving process. Would you mind very much if we called it a night?” She looked at him imploringly.
“No, I understand. I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed because I really wanted to see you tonight.” He stood up, thinking they needed to say good-bye and not drag it out for her sake. He reached out for her and pulled her to him gently, as a friend would. They weren’t lovers yet. He kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the front door. He opened it, and they smiled and said good-bye.
She didn’t watch him walk to his car as she had in the past, but shut the door and locked it. She needed to put her pjs on, fix something inappropriate to eat, and eat it in front of the television while sitting in bed. Just thinking about it made her feel better. She gathered up the stuff they had hauled out to the veranda and stashed it away. She looked in the pantry and pulled out a box of the kid’s Cocoa Krispies. It was probably stale, but she didn’t care. She got a big mixing bowl out and poured at least half the box in it and then poured milk over that. She got a spoon and took the bowl into her bedroom. It was another Saturday night in Babylon.
Chapter 11
Columbus Avenue near the park in the Upper West Side of Manhattan was an enclave of wealth and prestige. Slowly, inevitably, homogenized business was taking over, and the predictable generic retail stores were opening up while the small, independent places were closing. The wonderful little coffee shop that Bernice and Jack went to for their weekly lunch finally succumbed and closed their doors. It was such a slap in her face; she took it personally. They should have warned her so she could visit one last time. She had walked there alone Saturday morning to have breakfast. The shock of it not being open was bad enough, but when she realized it had gone out of business, she came close to falling over on the sidewalk. Barely making it home, she struggled to get up the stairs and into her room.
“Oh, Jack, our place is closed for good,” she said to his ghost. She closed her eyes, remembering the times they went there together before he found out the truth about his father and didn’t speak to her again. Bowing her head, she started to weep. It was so infrequent that she allowed herself to feel, to grieve. Her daughter-in-law had asked her how she did it. How did she suffer such loss and go on as though nothing had changed?
“It takes too long to recover if I allow myself to feel too much,” she had replied. A good analogy, she thought, was having a lazy day, one in which you didn’t bother to put makeup on, or brush your teeth, or even get dressed. You could do that in your youth and get up the next day, prepared to face the world again. When you aged, that slight lapse would be almost impossible to recover from. At her age, she had to stay on her toes, stay vigilant.
She understood, for the first time, those women in rest homes who didn’t even bother to comb their hair. It was enough that they managed to brush their teeth. Taking care of her physical body was getting harder and harder; remembering if she had washed her face was even a chore. What is happening to me? Now she was struggling to get out of bed. She hadn’t showered in days. Bill had noticed right away, and she was embarrassed.
She heard the buzzer on the front door. Who would bother me on a Sunday morning without calling first? She hoped it was the paperboy. She wasn’t ready to entertain her grandchildren today; small children would be intolerable. There was a knock on her bedroom door. Bernice said to come in. It was Mildred, but Pam was behind her. Oh God. No.
“It’s you,” Bernice said. She started to weep again. “Who told you to come here?” Pam was the last person she needed to see.
Pam walked over to the chair where her mother-in-law was sitting and knelt down in front of her. She gathered her in her arms and started gently rubbing her back. “I’m so sorry. I should have called you. Please forgive me.” Pam held her while she cried, patiently waiting for the moment to pass. She took one arm off her and leaned over to get a tissue from her dressing table. She put it up to Bernice’s face and gently wiped the skin under her eyes.
Bernice wondered how Pam always managed to have breath like fresh flowers. She didn’t want to admit there was anything about Pam that was likable.
“Please forgive me,” Pam repeated. “I should never have let so much time pass between visits.” She didn’t know if Bernice knew what had transpired yesterday; Mildred wasn’t able to tell her much. Pam felt she had to stay loyal to Anne, but the truth had to come out. Sandra was on her way over, and they would tell Bernice together. She stood up and took Bernice’s hands to help her up. “How about a nice shower?”
Bernice allowed herself to be led to the bathroom. Mildred stood with her head bowed, ashamed in some way for not being more observant to what was happening with her employer. Pam helped her mother-in-law get into the shower stall. She was shocked at how thin Bernice had gotten this summer, little more than a skeleton with skin over the bones. She remembered her own frail frame. Mildred got fresh clothes ready. Pam washed her hair, and when she was finished, the two of them primped and powdered Bernice. She looked like her old self when they got done. Pam suspected that she was suffering from depression. She would take her to the doctor on Monday. The attention made Bernice feel better. Pam opened the makeup drawer and pulled out powder and lipstick for her to apply. Not wanting to undermine her self-respect was important. Pam understood how fragile Bernice had become. Pam had moments of it herself.
Through the previous night, Pam had gone over again and again what had happened to her husband’s family. The financial failure was grave enough, but then to have Anne and Bill pull their crap? It was just too much. The best thing that could happen would be to have him go back to jail for a long time. She didn’t know yet if he had been released or if he was on his way back to Rikers. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen to Anne. Pam didn’t want her to go to jail for what she had done because it would mean the boys being without both parents. Bill certainly wasn’t in any shape to care for two young children. Pam would do what she could to see that justice was done and the family’s needs were met as well.
“Thank you, Pam. Thank you,” Bernice said to her. She knew she had been hard on her daughter-in-law over the years, even cruel. Now she was the only one who seemed to care about her.
“Would you like luncheon served, madam?” Mildred asked, keeping the formality alive for the sake of the old lady, whose days in this lavish setting may be numbered.
“Yes, please, Mildred. Thank you,” Bernice said.
The three women went down the stairs together, talking about how Bernice had started her weekend, with the discovery that the coffee shop where she and Jack went to eat every week for years had finally closed its doors for good. She was still upset about it.
“Maybe you shouldn’t walk that far from the house, Bernice. Why didn’t Ben take you?” She was paying for a full-time driver. What the hell was she walking around New York for?
“To tell you the truth, I forgot about him. I know; I’m losing it.” At least she was smiling.
“No, I think you have clinical depression, and we are going to go to the doctor tomorrow to find out if there isn’t anything he can give you. Memory loss like that can be from something as simple as depression. Let’s just check it out.” She was glad she wasn’t getting an argument. As long as she was the one with money, she was fairly sure she would be getting her way all the time.
As soon as she could, Pam gave the staff their back pay, apologizing to them for the inconvenience. She didn’t go into details with them. Cash for groceries and gasoline for the limousine was also given to Mildred with the instructions to save receipts. She asked her for bills for the gardener, too. The expenses for this old house would be looked at carefully; if Bernice could stay here, she may have to be put on a budget. It would be something that would be discussed. She was certain of one important point, and that was that the contents of this house would be going to an auction house before the summer was over.
Sandra finally arrived just as Mildred was serving lunch in the den. She bent over and kissed Bernice on the cheek. “Hello, again!”
She and Pam embraced and gave each other a peck on the cheek.
Bernice was confused, looking from woman to woman and back. “Did I forget something? I feel like I planned a party and then didn’t invite myself.”
They laughed and sat down across from Bernice.
“No, dear, you didn’t forget anything,” Sandra answered. “We invited ourselves here because we have some news. We thought it would be better if we were both here with you. I almost don’t know where to start.” Sandra looked at Pam for help. Maybe they should have planned this better.
“Well, let’s start with money. That seems to be what is foremost on everyone’s mind. When Sandra was here yesterday, you and Bill asked her for money. Do you remember that?” Pam asked.
Bernice nodded her head yes.
“Okay, good! Well, we found out through a circuitous way that Anne had been intercepting the checks I have been sending for you each week. I sent the same amount Jack did, since that seemed to be enough to keep the house running smoothly. Two thousand dollars a week. Do you both follow me?”
Sandra said, “Yes,” while Bernice, in shock, nodded her head.
“Did you ask Anne about it?” Bernice asked.
Here goes, thought Pam. “Actually, Bernice, I called the police instead.”
“Why’d you do that?” Bernice snapped. “Why not just confront her? Why’d you have to involve the police?” Her voice had gotten loud enough to alert Mildred, who came to the den and shut the doors leading to the main hallway. “What possible good did it do to get the police involved? What did Anne do?”
Bernice was clearly upset, so Pam decided to keep it simple. They probably would not be telling her about Sandra’s encounter with Bill, either.
“Bernice, Anne forged your name on checks meant for you. It was my money. Your staff has gone without pay for over a month. Did you know that? No bills have been paid. Mildred was buying food with her own money.” She gave Bernice a chance to catch up.
Instead, Bernice rang for Mildred. The door to the den opened.
“Mildred, come in. Please tell my daughter-in-law that I have been paying you.”
Mildred took another step into the room. “No, madam, we haven’t been paid. Miss Pam paid us this morning for the past seven weeks.”
Bernice looked like she had been slapped. “Are you telling me no one has been paid?”
She was looking at Pam, so Pam answered her.
“That’s what she is telling you. The gardener hasn’t been paid, and Ben has been buying gas out of his pocket as well. Did you think you were paying them?” Pam thought, Maybe it is more than depression after all.
“You just lost your son, madam. We could wait. We were sure that once Mr. Bill got out of…um…jail that he would take care of it.”
He sure did, Pam thought. No one said anything for a moment. And then for the second time that day, Bernice bowed her head and started to weep. Pam got up and put her hand on Mildred’s arm.
“You can go now, Mildred. Thank you.”
She left the room, softly closing the door behind her.
“Oh my God, what is happening to me? Of course I don’t have any money! What was I thinking that I could stay in this house, week after week?” She looked up at Pam. “What am I going to do?”
Pam grabbed the opportunity. “Bernice, Bill mentioned to Sandra yesterday that you had agreed to sell off the art in the house and in storage. Is that correct?”
Bernice slowly nodded yes. “I thought it was a bad dream. This collection is beyond price; it has been in Harold’s family forever. He will never forgive me.”
“I think he would want you to keep living here as long as you could, and if that means selling something that you aren’t looking at, then he would agree. Don’t sell what you really love, like the portrait in your bedroom. But all the pieces in storage and upstairs that no one sees, let someone else who really wants it enjoy it every day.” Oh Jesus, I sound like a broken record. “Look at it this way, Bernice. Once us elders die, the kids will have to get rid of all of this stuff and the stuff in my house and in Bill’s, so why wait for them to do it? It will make life so much easier for them.”