Family Dynamics: Pam of Babylon Book #5

by Suzanne Jenkins

  The receptionist told Steve to have a seat; someone would be right out to talk to him. Within a minute, Sandra came out. Steve was taken aback by her greeting—she put her arms around him and hugged him, then asked him to follow her. She walked slightly ahead of him but to the side, and while she wiped her eyes with an ironed white handkerchief, she asked how baby Miranda was and if Nelda was still with him. Had he heard anything about Bernice? They made small talk, and then Steve pulled out the file contents and gave her a brief rundown on it. But she seemed distracted. She was pacing behind her desk when suddenly she turned to Steve.

  “Do you have time to run to the coffee shop with me?” she asked. “I want to talk, but not here.” Steve wasn’t really in the mood for more chitchat, but her demeanor and voice told him that she had personal business to discuss with him.

  “OK, I guess I can take a few minutes.” He felt like he was talking to a teenybopper. What would a man my age find in common with a skinny kid like this? he thought. She didn’t even appeal to him. She was pretty in a starving-model way, though. He thought about beautiful Pam and her gentle, honest kindness, the way she overlooked the worst faux pas and was generous and giving to him and Miranda. Jack must have been a real jerk, he thought. Sandra gathered her belongings.

  “I may just get on the train for Williamsburg when you want to go home,” she said. She opened the door to her office so he could pass through, and then she shut it and locked it. “You never know who might snoop.” He didn’t care if anyone stole everything in his desk. Maybe she kept money or drugs locked in there.

  “Follow me. We can take the back elevator,” she said, opening a door to a stuffy, hot stairwell. “If I don’t come back here today, the less my employees will have to tattle to Peter, the better.” Steve chuckled to himself; she even talked like a teenager. They got on the freight elevator, and it dropped down thirty floors in speedy fashion, taking his breath away and making his bowels protest. “That’s why they call it the freight elevator,” she said, laughing, when Steve yelped. Young people are a pain in the ass. “Do you want to walk, or should I get a cab?” she asked. He wasn’t sure if she was making fun of him or just being considerate.

  “Let’s get a cab,” he said, certain he’d lag back when it came time to pay. But when they arrived to their destination, she didn’t pause, throwing bills down on the seat and jumping out before him. She was taking him to a grimy steel diner under the Brooklyn Bridge, the same one, oh, so long ago, where he attempted to demolish Marie’s car after she confessed she’d had unprotected sex with him and had recently been diagnosed with AIDS. It was probably during those few encounters that she had gotten pregnant with Miranda.

  They’d been silent during the ride, and now Steve was a little choked up. Sandra noticed but didn’t say anything, correctly suspecting he was thinking about what could have been. They went through the door to the closest booth. The space was dark and cool, the windows unwashed so the sun couldn’t penetrate. Steve ordered iced tea, and Sandra got hot tea.

  “No matter how hot it is outside, I always get hot tea. It’s comforting,” she said.

  “I get iced because I can pretend it’s a Long Island iced tea,” he replied. She couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her, but she thought not. He would probably give his soul for a drink.

  “They have a liquor license,” she said.

  When the waitress brought their teas, Steve said to her, “A shot of Johnny Walker, too, please.”

  The waitress nodded and walked away.

  “Thanks,” Steve said to Sandra, sipping his tea. “So what do you want to talk about?” She looked uncomfortable, and he thought, Oh, oh, something about Marie.

  “I never really knew what happened,” Sandra said. “I mean, I knew Marie was ill, but the next thing I knew, Pam said the baby was born and Marie had died. She didn’t go into details, and I couldn’t ask. I knew Marie well, and it was difficult to let go without knowing what happened,” she explained, sipping her tea. “I didn’t feel right about coming to the hospital. I don’t know. It seemed insincere. Marie didn’t like me.”

  Steve looked at her and felt sorry for her. He knew why—Marie had been jealous of what Sandra meant to Jack. “You know why, correct?” he asked.

  “Yes. Because of Jack. Jack lied to her, and she thought he had stopped seeing her because he didn’t love her anymore, and he was spending more time at home. But it was because he was with me. He was also with about four other women if I counted them correctly, so it wasn’t just me, but she never knew that. Pam and I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t tell Pam everything I found out, either, and that’s turned around to bite me in the ass.”

  Steve thought about what it would cost to go into the whole story of Marie and her death and decided he couldn’t do it. But he could offer her the short version. His scotch arrived, and he drank it down in a couple of gulps, then launched right in. “She had an AIDS-related brain infection that caused her to go into a coma. The doctors kept her alive as long as they could and finally had to deliver the baby because the placenta was beginning to deteriorate. She wanted to hang on as long as she could for Miranda.

  “The day she was born was really difficult. I couldn’t go into the delivery room with her, so Nelda did. Seeing Nelda dressed in the scrub gown and her hair covered in the blue cap made her daughters and I break down. It was so sad. She took care of Marie all those months and never complained, never flinched. When it was time to remove the breathing tube, she had to leave the room. I think if we’d decided to keep Marie on life support for the rest of her life, Nelda wouldn’t have minded taking care of her.

  “So that’s the story. I didn’t really have a chance to be sad because after she died, I had a newborn to take care of. Nelda moved in with me to help, and she does most of the caregiving. I try to shoo her away on the weekends, but she is the first one to say that she likes being where she’s needed. On the weekends she goes to visit Bernice, or Bernice comes to see us. We haven’t been to the beach for a while, but I may insist this weekend that we go.”

  Neither said anything for a while. Sandra didn’t respond to the story. If anything, she seemed stonier than usual. Steve was caught off-guard. He expected at least a tear on her cheek. Maybe what Marie had said about Sandra being a cold snake was true. But he would wait it out.

  “I lost a baby last year. Did you know that? Jack’s baby. She was five months. Big enough to have fingernails and hair. I got to see her, to hold her after she was born. She was dead, but it was better than wondering what she was like the rest of my life. And the worst is I can’t have more. I mean, I could if I was irresponsible like Marie was. But my doctor said it would be dangerous for me and the baby if I got pregnant,” she said. She was sitting up ramrod straight, a real “fight me” posture, but Steve Marks wasn’t biting. She was a punk. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her weakened position as a heartbroken mother. So he ignored her cruel reference to Marie and grabbed her hand.

  “Oh, my God, how sad! It must have been so awful for you to lose your baby. And to know that it wouldn’t be wise to have more must just multiply your anguish,” he said. She was totally unprepared for his response and burst into tears. Fortunately, there weren’t many customers in the diner; it was between lunch and dinner. She let him keep hold of her hand. It seemed like she’d never had the opportunity to let her composure down until now.

  “Yes! It’s been awful! No one understands, no one cares. My boyfriend doesn’t like to see me sad, so I have to be strong for him all the time. Pam certainly doesn’t want to hear about it. My sister doesn’t know the whole story. There’s no one! You are the only one I can tell what it was really like,” she said, crying. “The baby was so sweet; you could just tell she was going to be adorable if she’d lived. And now, of course, I’ll never know what it’s like.” She took out her handkerchief again and blew her nose. “I’m sorry. Poor Steve,” she said. He took her hand again.

  “Anytime you
need fatherly advice, I’m available to you. But can I ask one question? Why not get another opinion about having a baby? Miranda doesn’t have AIDS, and even though she was born under the worst circumstances, she is as healthy as a horse. I’d talk to someone else if I were you.” Sandra looked hopeful.

  “It never occurred to me to get a second opinion. My doctor supposedly works with AIDS patients all the time. I trusted her to be the best to give advice.” She looked out the window, deep in thought. Steve was feeling a little anxious. With the scotch under his belt, he felt motivated to stop by the hardware store on his way home and pick up some paint charts.

  “Let’s get on our way, shall we? I want to get home and start planning how I’m going to brighten up the tomb I live in,” he said. And then he looked over at Sandra and felt a flood of compassion for her. “Would you like to come with me to see Miranda? I think Marie would have liked that.” Sandra was speechless. Why in God’s name would Marie care if I saw her baby or not? She thought about what her evening at home would be. Tom was working a twelve-hour shift and hadn’t started until eleven that morning, so she’d be going home to an empty apartment. His stepmother, Gwen, would probably call and hound her into coming up to Bayside for dinner. Sandra couldn’t think of anything she’d rather not do. Going to Steve’s to see baby Miranda sounded nice. It might be good for her.

  “All right, I’ll come home with you. I don’t feel like going back to the office.” She slid out of the booth and went to the cash register to pay their bill. Steve felt awkward, but it couldn’t be helped. He barely made ends meet, and she was wealthy. It was the way things were. “Do you want to get a cab?” she asked. He thought it was silly because the train was a few blocks west but shrugged his shoulders.

  “We could do that,” he answered. Maybe her feet hurt. They walked in silence to the street, and a cab pulled to the curb for her without any effort. Steve looked over at her and had to admit she was a knockout. People looked at them, and he was sure they were thinking he was either her father or a jerk of a boyfriend. He had had to keep reminding nurses and doctors that he wasn’t Marie’s father when she was in the hospital. Sandra slid into the cab, and he followed her. When Steve gave the driver his address, she looked at him curiously.

  “The Village?” she asked. He nodded his head. “Bill Smith’s place?” she asked, referring to Jack’s brother’s townhouse. He nodded.

  She vaguely remembered the story of Pam offering it to Steve and the baby when her tenants graduated. “How’s it working out for you?”

  “It’ll be better once I make it a home. So far, we’ve spent the past year in the gloom of the previous owner’s ocher and dark oak paneling. I plan on painting everything white. Oh! If you don’t mind, I need to stop off at the hardware store in the neighborhood and get a can of paint.” He leaned forward and told the cab driver they’d be making a different stop. They got to the hardware store, and Steve went directly to the paint. “I don’t even have to look at a color chart. Antique white, my favorite color.” He grabbed a quart and a large sponge brush with a paint roller and pan. Sandra wandered around the unfamiliar space while Steve paid for his paint. She needed to find a project that would make her feel more like she belonged in Tom’s place. But what? He wouldn’t go for her repainting, she was sure.

  “If you’re OK, we can walk to my place from here,” he said. She walked beside him, silently looking around the neighborhood. Several brownstones had purple NYU flags flying from the stoops, and a few others had fraternity flags.

  “Are these all Greek houses?” she asked.

  “Some,” he said. “The university owns most of them, which can be good or bad. So far, there’s only been one party rowdy enough for the police to come, and that was during graduation. Since that house—” He pointed to one across the street from his house. “—is for students in religious studies, they’re well-behaved.” He burst out laughing. “Not that it should make any difference!” He handed Sandra the bag of brushes and rollers and dug in his pants pocket for his house key.

  “I’m home,” he hollered as he opened the door, nodding his head for Sandra to go through ahead of him. She could hear Nelda’s excited voice telling baby Miranda that Daddy was home and then the squealing of an excited child about to see her parent.

  “Hi Nelda, it’s nice to see you,” Sandra said as Nelda came out into the hallway to greet Steve. She was surprised, but smiling, a rarity for Nelda. She even put her free arm out to embrace Sandra.

  “Oh, my God! How wonderful to see you, dear!” The baby reached out to yank on Sandra’s hair, and the three of them stood in a huddle as Steve put his briefcase and can of paint down.

  “How’s my girl?” he said to Miranda, but she was too busy with Sandra, intrigued with her necklace and dangly earrings.

  “She’s so cute!” Sandra said, fighting back tears.

  “Doesn’t she look like Marie?” Nelda asked, adding in a whisper, “Thank God.” Sandra had to start laughing, but the tears came in spite of her effort.

  “She does look exactly like her,” Sandra said. She hadn’t counted on the emotional factor. Suddenly, she realized that she was sort of related to these people, through sin and tragedy, and because she had the same DNA in her that killed Marie. And Nelda had lost a child, just as she had lost Ellin. She dug through her pocket for her handkerchief and finally just gave up and started crying. Nelda held on to her while Steve took Miranda from her.

  “Nelda, I’m so sorry, so sorry about your loss, sorry I never called you before this, just sorry about everything,” she said, crying. Steve was concerned but decided to leave things alone. Maybe Sandra was crying for more reasons than met the eye.

  “Oh, thank you, honey, that’s so sweet of you,” she said as she led Sandra into the living room.

  “Oh! Oh boy, Steve, I see why you need the paint. This is awful,” Sandra said, the tears gone for a moment. “I’m going to help you do this, help you get this painted. It’s so depressing!”

  Nelda laughed. “I think I was getting used to it, but now that I look again, you’re right, it’s awful. Come on, you two, let’s have coffee, or do you want tea, Sandra? Dinner will be ready in an hour if you want to stay, dear.”

  Sandra wanted to stay. “I’ll call my boyfriend and let him know where I am. I would love to stay.” She walked back out into the hallway and called Tom’s cell phone. He was surprised to find out where she was.

  “Wow, that’s a little strange!” he said.

  “It really is,” she said with a laugh. “I sort of feel like I’m with my father and grandmother.”

  “Well, enjoy yourself. Call me when you get ready to leave, and I’ll come get you. I’m downtown now trying not to kill someone with my bare hands.” Tom was a cop dealing with young drunks who had entitlement.

  “Ugh. Well, be careful,” she said. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” he said.

  She went back into the living room, and Nelda had a tray of coffee and cookies.

  “I’m heating water up for your tea. So have a seat. What’s going on in Brooklyn? I haven’t been back in months. Pam sold my house, did she tell you? No tears were shed over that old place! I bet they tear it down,” Nelda said, leaning over to get a cookie.

  “I like it there, believe it or not,” Sandra said. She hardly believed it herself. She looked around the room, at Nelda and at Steve holding the baby. She belonged with these people, she felt it with certainty. And she belonged with Pam. She had to find some way to make up to Pam everything she’d done to hurt her. She reached out for Miranda.

  “Can I hold her?” Steve set her down on Sandra’s lap. The baby’s hand went right to Sandra’s mouth.

  “Dadada,” she cooed. “Dada.” Sandra laughed at her, pressing her lips together so the baby couldn’t dig in her mouth with her sharp fingernails. “Mamamama,” she cooed.

  “Oh, boy! We haven’t heard that, have we, Steve?” Nelda said. Steve shook his head.


  “No one’s been ‘Mama’ yet. This is a first,” he said.

  “She’s at the age, though,” Nelda said, feeling so sad that it wasn’t Marie hearing those syllables. Sandra was unable to open her mouth; she was blasted with a simultaneous thrill and a deep, deep sadness, and the two powerful emotions were feeding off each other. Before she knew it, she was sobbing into the shoulder of the little girl, who didn’t seem to mind.

  “Mamamama, dadadada,” Miranda said, alternating her words with making “raspberries.” Sandra laughed while she was crying.

  “Do you want me to take her?” Nelda asked softly.

  “No, if it’s OK with you. I wish Marie were here,” Sandra said. “I wish I had been nicer to her.” It was an admission that needed no explanation because both Nelda and Steve had been at the receiving end of Marie’s nonsense. They simply nodded their heads. The regrets the living had for the dead, no matter what the relationship—that perceived wrongs could never be made right.

  Nelda wiped her eyes with the end of her apron. “I’m going to get dinner going. I’m glad you’re staying dear; I appreciate the female company—no offense, Steve.”

  “None taken. I’m going to call your daughter and ask her if I can start painting this cave,” he said. Sandra played with the baby, bonding with her. Nelda and Steve went off to do what they had to do, confident that the baby was in the care of someone who needed her more than they did at that moment.

  Chapter 18

  Pam squirted breath spray into her mouth. Pulling the visor down, she confirmed what she already knew without looking: Every hair was in place, her makeup was perfect, and she looked great. When she saw Dan’s car in the parking lot, her anxiety shot up a level or two. She locked her bag in the car and walked to the door of the gym just as Dan came out. He’d been waiting for her. The knowledge that she wouldn’t have to make an entrance by herself thrilled her, and she smiled at him, reaching out for his hand.