“I’m OK! Please!” she yelled.
“She just found out her son-in-law died,” Bernice explained, deciding it unnecessary to go into any more explanation. Steve was as good a son-in-law as any. He’d played cards with the two older ladies, gotten drunk with them, and bused Bernice back and forth to the nursing home. Bernice realized she’d miss him, too. The nurses tried to comfort Nelda, but her main concern was finding out who had the baby. Was Miranda in the car with Steve? She started screaming, “Please, find out who has Miranda! Was she in the car, too?” Just then, she remembered Pam told her Sandra had the baby when she visited her in the hospital. She began to weep. “I’m so sorry! I think a friend has her. My daughter told me, and I forgot.” She lowered her head and began to sob. The nurse left the room to see if Nelda’s doctor had ordered an “as needed” sedative. She would benefit from a little Ativan.
Bernice embraced her friend. Having recently been subject to the greatest humiliation, she could afford to be compassionate. “I’m so sorry, Nelda. Poor Steve. You’ve had an awful year.” Nelda reached up and hugged her friend back. Bernice was trying to think what should be done next. Arrangements would have to be made for the baby. Nelda sure wasn’t in any shape to take care of Miranda. “I guess we should call Pam and tell her what happened.” She dialed Pam’s number, but no one answered. Bernice didn’t want to leave that kind of message on an answering machine. They’d call back later.
“Miranda’s an orphan,” Nelda said, sobbing. “It’s so sad! I need Pam!” Bernice went to the phone again to call the beach. She let it ring until the answering machine came on, intending to leave a cryptic message so as not to alarm her daughter-in-law.
“Pam, this is your mother-in-law. Where are you? I have tried calling your cell phone twice and now this number. There’s been a terrible accident, and your mother is hysterical! Call me at once!”
Chapter 28
Across the river in Hoboken, Deborah Phillips was puttering around her new apartment. It was really her boyfriend Zach’s place, but she was sure they were together for good, and she was settling in. It was tiny, on the ground floor of a four-story brownstone. It had the original kitchen that stretched across the back, windows overlooking a cobblestone terrace and expansive yard. The yard was theirs alone. Back in the apartment, the bedroom stretched across the front of the house, but without windows, light coming from the kitchen was the only natural light in the unit. She discovered that cooking for Zach was relaxing, so in spite of serving food all day at the restaurant, she enjoyed planning dinner for that evening. She often got ideas from what people ordered, and she’d think of different ways to fix it or serve it with different accompaniments. Zach complained that he was gaining weight. But he seemed so content that it fed her compulsion to “home-make.” Where did it come from? Beverly Phillips kept a neat house and served a home-cooked meal each night, but she wasn’t passionate about it. Deborah was embarrassed that she’d taken it for granted; just one week with Zach and she understood the dedication and energy it took to take care of a family. She wondered if she’d ever be able to take care of children, too. Then, last week, she’d invited her birth mother, Natalie, over on Sunday afternoon. They shopped on the way back to the apartment, and Deborah watched as Natalie examined each vegetable and cut of meat carefully, talking about the best way to prepare it.
“Do you take this much care when you’re shopping for yourself?” she asked. Natalie thought for a minute.
“Gee, I guess I do,” she answered. “I’ve been alone all my life—I mean, besides my parents, and I pampered them, too. So it only makes sense that I’m worth taking the time to make things nice if I would do it for others. Besides, who wants to eat food that doesn’t taste great? It’s like chocolate. Why waste the calories on cheap chocolate? If I’m going to blow it, it’s gotta be great!” Deborah thought about what she’d said. It made sense.
As she organized Zach’s kitchen, she decided she was going to try to do things Natalie’s way. She would aim for honesty and excellence. She thought of Natalie’s appearance, how she was comfortable with her curly hair and ample figure and dressed to please herself.
Deborah knew she dressed for other women and was determined to stop it. Zach liked a certain look that Deborah thought was strange—a sort of ethnic, artsy look. She sat next to him one night with a Vogue magazine and tried to figure out what he found attractive. There wasn’t one thing except for an panty ad that he admitted liking. He dug through his bookshelf and came up with a book about India, pointing to page after page of sari-clad women.
“See that little bit of midriff showing? Wow! That does it for me!”
Deborah started laughing. She smacked his arm playfully. “You’ve lost your mind,” she said. “Let’s find something that won’t make me look like I come from a foreign country, OK?” When Natalie visited last Sunday, Deborah watched her move around the Hoboken apartment and couldn’t help but compare her to Beverly, who watched every calorie, spent a small fortune on dry cleaning, got her hair cut and colored every four weeks, wore the best minimizer bra on the market, and never, ever ate after eight at night.
Natalie was definitely a wash-and-wear gal. She didn’t own a blow dryer, wore denim from the 1970s, often went without a brassiere in spite of having the biggest breasts Deborah had ever seen, and wore socks with Birkenstocks—an absolute no-no in fashion. There had to be a happy medium between her adoptive mother and her birth mother, and Deborah planned to discover what it was during the summer. She was determined to be a self-assured, real woman by the time school started in September.
While Deborah was peeling potatoes in Hoboken, Natalie was taking the train up to Ashton and Ted’s for dinner. In the time since they met, they’d become inseparable. Ashton called Natalie at least three times a day. They shared recipes, watched the news while on the phone together, and tried to meet in midtown at a German restaurant they all liked at least once a week. Ted went to her apartment for lunch almost every day, and she moved in with them on the weekends.
That evening, Ashton stood at the kitchen sink prepping vegetables for their salad. He reached down to push peelings into the garbage disposal, and that action, so totally removed from any memory he had of Jack, was a sudden and rare reminder of Jack’s absence. Something about his slender wrist. Jack often teased Ashton about his thinness, telling him he was too fine-boned to be a man, that he should’ve been a woman. “You really are feminine,” Jack teased “I could’ve gone home to Pam if I wanted a woman.”
“I’d have a vagina if I were a woman, goofball,” Ashton had answered.
“Prove it,” Jack would say, all the while grabbing Ashton’s crotch. Ashton counted back the number of months he hadn’t thought of Jack or allowed him to creep in with depression or sadness. Ted, and now Natalie, had eradicated Jack for him totally. He was free of the torment.
“Whatcha doin’”? Ted came into the kitchen and hung his head over Ashton’s shoulder.
Asthon turned to look up at him. “What am I doing? Well, I’m sitting in the den reading a book. What does it look like I’m doing?” Ashton teased, laughing.
“I’m hungry. Can I have something to eat?” Ted pleaded.
“No, you can wait until Nats gets here,” Ashton said firmly, finishing the salad. “Go turn the news on and find out what the weather’s going to be tomorrow. I want to go to Costco.”
Ted left for the den. “It’s ridiculous to buy all that giant-sized crap for three people,” he complained on his way to the den.
“No, it’s not. We’ll share it with Deborah and Zach,” Ashton yelled back. He and Natalie went to Costco one other time, and it was thrilling. They bought enough toilet paper to last a year and all the meat they could eat in a month. “That reminds me. I have to call Deb and tell her to have Zach drive in on Sunday. We can load the car up.” Ted turned the TV on, secretly happy that Ashton was taking over the domesticity of caring for a child and the child’s mother. It was not his for
te, although he had to admit there was something about Natalie—a quality of sincerity and kindness he was not used to responding to—and when she was around, he and Ashton were kinder to each other, more tolerant and patient.
Deborah kept both on their toes. A runner for fitness, she challenged them when they were all together. Due to pride or embarrassment, or a combination of both, they’d run with her in Central Park, pushing themselves so that she wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with them. The next day, they’d be in agony as a result of the unexpected exercise, getting ice bags and heating pads for each other with promises that they would simply tell her they weren’t going to run anymore. Then, the following Saturday she’d be there, and they’d both be ready with sneakers and water bottles.
“Maybe if you ran one or two times during the week, it wouldn’t be so terrible for you,” she admonished. “Mother tells me you go to her house for lunch every day. Maybe a run around Battery Park might be more productive.”
So their lives filled up with these new people. Things that formerly occupied the time fell away, and neither missed whatever it was. Natalie arrived, and Ashton ushered her into the dining room. “All I want to do is put my nightgown on and get into bed to read,” she said.
“Then that’s what you should do,” Ashton said. “I made your favorite!” He’d prepared a faux Thanksgiving dinner, with chicken where the turkey should be and all the accompaniments. The meal was delicious, as usual, and the threesome talked nonstop, solving the problems of the world while the wine freely flowed. Maybe too freely. After dinner, Ashton refused offers of help as Ted retreated to the den and Natalie went to change her clothes. The first thing she did was take off her bra. She wasn’t self-conscious of her gigantic breasts and thought nothing of going braless in front of Ashton and Ted. But when she walked into the den, Ted noticed right away. He quickly looked over as Ashton walked in, having confessed a fascination with them. And sure enough, he was watching them move under the fabric of her summer nightgown. They were awesome. Each one seemed at least a foot long, but big around, too, so they stood out from her chest rather than collapsing to her waist.
“My husband wants to touch your boobs,” Ted said out loud, slightly slurring his words. Natalie stopped what she was doing and looked at Ted, then down at her chest.
“Ted! For Christ’s sake!” Ashton shouted. “Ignore him, Nats! He’s sick in the head, and drunk.”
“Did I hear you correctly?” she asked, somewhat taken aback, but amused. “Hey, all you had to do was ask.” And before either man knew what was happening, Natalie peeled off her nightgown and stood before them in the nude. She had also removed her underpants, and of course, both men’s eyes went right to the black triangle below her belly.
“Ah, ah, I didn’t mean for you to….” Ted stuttered.
“Shut the hell up, dear,” Ashton said. Natalie was full of herself as she’d never been before, totally comfortable with the size of her body and with nudity. She was enjoying every second of vanity, first putting her hands on her hips, and then arms stretched out straight. She slowly turned around to display her body. “Feast your eyes, men.” Her buttocks were big, heart shaped mounds, but smooth and firm. She didn’t have any dimples in her thighs like women were known to complain about, and Ashton tried not to imagine what she hid between them.
He went to her, pointing at her breasts and said, “May I?” She laughed, shaking her head yes. “Jeez, I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast, and although it was warm and soft, it didn’t do anything for him. He was terribly disappointed, and Ted could see it.
“What did you think it would do? Squirt milk at you?” Ted asked. Ashton looked at him exasperated.
“Shut up, Ted. I’m trying to figure this out.” He stared at them for a few seconds and then realizing it was hopeless, bent over to hug Natalie, careful not to crush her breasts.
“Thank you, dear, my curiosity is satisfied,” he said. She kissed his cheek and bent over to pick her gown up, shimmying it over her arms and back onto her body. He noticed that she didn’t shave her underarms, which so fit the picture of who she was.
“God, I was hoping for more action then that!” she said, and everyone laughed. “I’m drunk.”
“Us, too,” Ted said.
“Speak for yourself,” Ashton replied. “Come over here and watch TV with us.” He patted the sofa next to where he was sitting.
“No, I just came to get my bag. The striptease was incidental. Don’t think I’m doing it every night!” If she was embarrassed or uncomfortable, the men couldn’t tell. Ted was barely able to keep his eyes open, and Ashton was standing up out of respect for Natalie. As she exited the room, Ashton grabbed her arm, pulling her to him and hugged her again, kissing her cheek.
“I love you, Nats,” he said.
“Me, too,” Ted mumbled. She smiled and left the room.
“I should kill you,” Ashton hissed at Ted, elbowing him as he sat down on the couch.
“Why? I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, cowering, and then put his head back on the sofa. “Besides, it was a good reminder why I’m gay.”
Ashton elbowed him harder. “Shut up! She’s just in the kitchen. You are a real piece of work. Why in God’s name would you put her and me on the spot like that? And don’t use grapes as an excuse.”
Ted shrugged his shoulders. “What’d you think?” Ted asked, ignoring Ashton’s questions. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Ashton was pensive for a few minutes.
“Actually, if she’d given me a little more time, I think I could’ve gotten into it. Her skin is awesome. She’s really voluptuous. I might have to tell her so she doesn’t feel bad. She might have regrets now, about stripping in front of us. She may have expected us to react in a sexual way. Hmmmmm. Interesting thought!” But Ted was snoring and didn’t hear a thing.
The next morning, three hung-over New Yorkers met in the sun-filled kitchen for breakfast.
“Sorry about last night,” Natalie said. “Chalk it up to emotional depravation.”
“I personally enjoyed it,” Ashton admitted, pouring coffee for everyone. “I think I had a wet dream last night.”
“Hey! That’s the mother of my child you’re talking to,” Ted said. Ashton smiled at him, contrite.
“Sorry, Nats,” he said, and she laughed, unfolding the paper and passing around what she didn’t care to read. “Well, we weathered that storm!” They settled down to a long, lazy Saturday morning.
Chapter 29
Lisa pulled out of the driveway of the house of her childhood without regrets and never looked back. She didn’t feel negative about leaving; it was a testimony to her upbringing that her home didn’t bring the same sense of comfort it once had because she was now an adult. It was time to grow up and be on her own. She’d felt slightly anxious during the visit. Her mother was moving on, and although Lisa was happy for her, she’d no longer have to endure being the center of attention. After what Pam had experienced, the lies and deceit, it was amazing that she was able to contemplate another relationship, and Lisa was filled with admiration. She drove toward the expressway, glancing at Ryan out of the corner of her eye. A few short days ago, he’d represented everything she needed to feel safe and secure. Now, seeing his reflection through her mother’s eyes, and in the milieu of her house at the beach, he was just as insecure and frightened as Lisa was.
And Dan! Oh my God, she hated to admit it, but he stirred something in her, a desire for physical beauty that she didn’t think would ever matter to her. Her father was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, and look what that got her mother! So maybe she’d looked at Ryan’s unattractive exterior as a means for safety. Could she have been so naïve? When they were alone, his inner beauty was evident, but it was scarce right now. She didn’t even like him today. She’d just spent a thousand dollars of her money buying him a ticket home. They never discussed who was paying to go back. Ugh. All she
wanted to do right then was get him to New Jersey; hopefully his strict mother would offer a place for her to stay for the night, and then in the morning, she’d go—but where? The mansion was gone; she didn’t know anyone in the city anymore. Her grandmother went into a nursing home that morning. She’d call one of her friends and see if she could hang out until it was safe to go back to the love nest in Babylon.
While Lisa was debating the wisdom of coming to New York unannounced, Brent Smith was getting off a plane at JFK. Julie had given him an ultimatum, and he’d decided he was going to ask her to marry him. He’d gone to a jeweler on his way to the airport and purchased the biggest rock he could afford—a one-karat emerald cut in platinum He wasn’t going into debt for a ring, and nothing was coming to him from his father’s estate for a while. His mother hadn’t been clear on that topic, but Brent got the feeling it was a lever she used in dealing with him and his sister. It made him sad. He was always the ideal son, and now his mother was cautious about every word that came out of her mouth when she talked to him and felt she needed to threaten him by withholding money.
Before heading to White Plains, he’d go to the beach to see his mother, shower, get his car, and head to Julie’s house. He had a light, happy heart. He was ready to get married, in spite of being afraid to make a commitment to Julie a few days earlier. He thought the revelations of the past two years had something to do with it, but once he was over it, he recognized that his parents had a marriage that was successful, no matter what the outcome. He wanted to emulate their relationship if he was lucky enough. They’d lived together in harmony for many years. He never recalled them having an argument, even raised voices, unless his mother was winning at Scrabble.
“You look like a dumb blond, but you’re as smart as a Mensa,” Jack would yell. Pam would shake her head in exasperation while her children laughed hysterically.
Family Dynamics: Pam of Babylon Book #5 Page 18