Pam of Babylon

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I will give you another chance if you give me some time. I hope I don’t sound like a mother here, Sandra, but you are very young, and although I think you are wise, you don’t know what I am going through. I need some time to sort out what I am going to tell my children who worship their father, or worshiped him when he was alive, and now will find that not only did he cheat on their mother, but will have a child that will be their halfbrother or halfsister.” She felt strange discussing this on the street, Sandra standing there sobbing. She was not going back to Sandra’s apartment and wanted to give her some resolution before she left the city, because she was getting out. There was no way she could stay in Jack’s apartment tonight. “Go back home dear. I want to get on the road before traffic gets too bad.” She patted her arm and turned to walk up the street.

  Pam got her cab. She was glad she hadn’t called Marie or, for God’s sake, Bernice, because she would have had to cancel any plans she made with them. Repacking everything she couldn’t wait to get out of that place and back in her car, head toward the ocean. The wonderful ocean, an icon right now, one of peace and tranquility. She felt slightly guilty about the scene back at Sandra’s. It would have been so “Pam” if she had said, “Oh, that’s perfectly wonderful! You are having my husband’s baby! You discussed it with my mother-in-law who loathes me and probably thinks I deserve it. Here, let me give you my children’s cell phone numbers; call them and let them know about their new half sibling!” But she would never do that because she thought of others more highly than she thought of herself.

  As she maneuvered her car through the afternoon traffic toward the bridge, she began to relax. She would allow herself the luxury of not thinking about what she must do until she was safe at home. The ride would be spent listening to music and trying not to get killed. What had I been thinking when I drove in this morning? From now on, if anyone needed to see her, they could meet her in Babylon.

  28

  Three women, joined by their love for a dead man, moved forward through the week with their eyes on the weekend. If all went well, they would meet at the man’s beautiful house on the Atlantic Ocean. They would spend time eating delicious food, watching breathtaking sunrises, walking on the beach, and if the mood was right, accepting this latest challenging news.

  Pam wanted to do what was right. If she could, if she only had herself to think of, she would deny Sandra’s baby’s birthright. She would threaten her with bodily harm if she revealed the embarrassing truth of Jack’s betrayal to their friends and family. She fantasized about packing up and driving through Canada to Alaska and hiding there. If she only had her own life to worry about, she would do that.

  That wasn’t going to happen, however, because of Lisa and Brent. This had become about what was right for them. She had to include the unborn baby in the equation. So fantasies about getting revenge aside, she would, from this moment forward, only consider what was best for the baby. That would mean having a united front of the adults. It would mean Pam would have to deal with Bernice, whatever her deal was seeking out Sandra. It would mean telling Marie and suffering her wrath.

  By Friday, Pam was used to the idea of a baby. It disgusted her how simple she was. It was probably why she was so easily walked over all of her life. She spent the week shopping for just the right food, lots of healthy drinks for Sandra, and wine for Marie and herself. She got steaks for Friday, salmon for Saturday, and if the women stayed until Sunday evening, the ingredients for shrimp scampi. She hadn’t cooked in over a week, and it felt good to stroll down the aisles of the big organic food store, thinking always in terms of what would be best for the baby.

  She hadn’t spoken to either woman, but on Tuesday, she sent cards, cute, friendship cards, with the same words written in each one: “Don’t forget this weekend at the beach! See you Friday night.” And both women had called and left messages that they would leave for Long Island right after work on Friday. Pam thought it was probably a good thing that they weren’t traveling together. She didn’t know how Sandra was going to get there, probably the train. She was a big girl; she would figure it out. Marie would drive over; that was the way she always did it. She liked to have the freedom to leave late at night and not worry about walking back to her apartment. Cabs were a rare commodity in that part of the city.

  Pam discovered a positive consequence of the weekend plan. She barely thought of Jack all week, which was odd, considering he had only been dead two weeks. Her anger was palpable. Her disgust at how he had discounted his children in his will and basically disregarded them all by his behavior served to force her to look outside of her grief. Possibly, it could pop up again down the road, but for now, she didn’t care. She wanted that control, that total all-encompassing smugness that being pissed at her husband gave her. She had never really gotten mad at him. Was it possible that was a symptom of a tragically empty marriage?

  She thought of the last time they made love. He had pumped away on top of her as he always did, and when he was finished, he got off of her and went into the bathroom. She started laughing when she thought of the expression on his face. It was one that said, “I’m so good!” He was such an egoist. To his credit, he always made sure she was satisfied first. The problem with that was she was finished before he got started and really didn’t care if it was over quickly. Now, of course, she understood. He was a middle-aged man having sexual intercourse with two women. She didn’t know if he used drugs to enhance his performance, but she doubted it. She shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. All they did was make her sad all over again. And she had managed to stay happy most of the week.

  Having an entire week by herself was sobering. She realized how friendless she was. Prior to Jack’s death, she didn’t need other women. She had her sister for companionship, her mother to bounce ideas off of, Bernice to make sure she was involved in senseless activities, and Jack to take care of. She took care of his clothes, and that alone was a part time job. She went to the cleaners on Monday to drop off what he brought home from the city and again on Friday to pick it up. He always had shoes or belts that needed repairs and watches to go to the jeweler. His car was in the shop more than it was out for upgrades or repairs—satellite radio, new tires, detailing, and oil changes. His golf clubs always needed some attention. She took his tennis racket to be restrung. Shopping for their food for the weekend was exciting for her. During the summer, they grilled every night, especially when he started to watch his cholesterol. She would go to the farmers’ market on Friday and Saturday and to the fish market and the bakery. Everything was fresh and delicious. Of course, that was the past. Now she had nothing, no friends, no husband, and no memories that were real. It was a sham, her whole life. And she was proud of herself for having let go of so much so quickly. She was a good woman. She could see what was needed to make others safe, to make others happy. This self–pep talk was just what Pam needed.

  She took fresh flowers out on the veranda and arranged them on the dining table. Hosting—now there was something she could do with pizzazz. Pam put a box of Marie’s favorite chocolates on her nightstand. She had fresh sheets on the bed and flowers on the dresser. She debated where to have Sandra sleep. They had several guest rooms on the upper level, but they were far away. She didn’t want her guest to feel lonely, but the only other bedrooms were the kids. She decided she would ask Sandra where she would be more comfortable. The upper guest rooms looked out upon the ocean, and later that night, with the full moon and stars and the ships at sea, the light would be beautiful.

  At seven, she heard a car pull up in front. It was Marie. Pam hadn’t seen her sister for over a week. She went to the door and opened it, waiting for her to get her bags out of the trunk. Pam was shocked. Marie had obviously stopped eating, a problem they dealt with once when she was sixteen and again when she was thirty. It had escalated to the point where she had to be hospitalized twice, once for six months. She would starve herself until her body was unable to sustain her. At five
feet eight inches, she was thin at her normal one hundred and fifteen pounds. She had clearly lost at least ten pounds. Pam did her best to hide her concern. Past history taught her that the best thing to do was to do nothing. She put a smile on her face and rushed out to embrace her sister.

  Marie put herself into neutral in order to get through the week. She didn’t allow any more walks down memory lane. No more entertaining jealous thoughts of Sandra, either. But the worst battle was with her guilt over the betrayal of her sister. It was a roller coaster. She hated not being able to express her love for Jack and her grief over his death and was enraged that all the sympathy was going Pam’s way. Then she would be despondent that she could be so selfish and not be there for her sister. Now, seeing Pam scurrying toward her filled her with anxiety.

  “Marie, I am so glad you are here. We will have a good visit this weekend. I have your room already for you,” she said as she lifted her suitcase out of the trunk. They walked together toward the house, chattering about work, their mother, Brent and Lisa. “I was even thinking that you might like to golf tomorrow.” If Marie didn’t take advantage of the country club, there was no earthly reason to keep their membership current. “It is a shame that it’s going to waste,” she added, hoping that would spur her sister into going.

  “It would be so boring out there without Jack” was all she said. Pam had to agree.

  “It would be boring with him, in my opinion.” They laughed. Going into Marie’s room and putting the bags down, Pam could see the tension in her sister’s face start to melt. Marie was surprised at how comforting it was to be back in Jack’s house. She was dreading it in theory, but in actuality, it was familiar and it was home. She wondered if the weekend would kill her peace; seeing Sandra again and knowing what she meant to Jack might do it. So much of what was important to her lived in that house. She loved the kids. Staying in touch with them while they were away at school, writing weekly, texting constantly, sending gifts from street vendors should be on the continuum of life, but she’d allowed it to slip. When they both decided to spend six weeks of their summer vacation away, she was beside herself, and the fact that the plan wasn’t cancelled after Jack’s death really had her baffled. She wondered what would she do the rest of the summer, who would play on the beach with her, go for ice cream or pizza, and hang out in town on a hot summer Friday night. If all went well this weekend, she was going to approach Pam about getting them home. That she shouldn’t be basing her life on the activities of two young adults hadn’t occurred to her.

  “Brent golfs. If he were home now, it wouldn’t go to waste” was all she said. Pam didn’t respond. She knew that the best thing for her children was to be away from this mess. Their peace would be shattered soon enough, and then she doubted they would ever want to come back. However, she was not going to discuss it with Marie. Those two fabulous beings were Pam’s children, not Marie’s. That was one source of contention she wanted to keep out of this weekend.

  Pam was debating whether or not to tell Marie herself that Sandra was pregnant, thinking it may take some of the heat off of Sandra. If she did so now, Marie would probably leave. Then, she thought, why did Marie really have to know right away? It was so early, and so much could happen. Maybe Bernice was right, that any negative vibes directed at the baby should be avoided. Pam felt that part of her metamorphous into an adult, finally at age fifty-five, was the realization that she couldn’t control everything, that her advice wasn’t wanted, and that people should be left to their own devices most of the time. It certainly made life easier. She had enough on her plate right now. How people would react to her once the word was out that Jack was going to be father again and Marie’s reaction to learning that Jack had left his business, of all things, to his mistress and nothing whatsoever to her, all of the fallout from those two issues alone boggled the mind. It was Sandra’s baby, so if she wanted to tell Marie over the weekend, that was up to her alone. She, Pam, was not going to do it.

  “Sandra should be here any minute,” Pam said. “Would you like something to drink? We can sit outside while we wait for her. Give us a chance to catch up.”

  She went into the kitchen, Marie following her. Pulling the cheese tray out of the refrigerator and piling grapes on it, she secretly hoped her sister would dig in. Marie went to the pantry to get crackers, renewing their old routine of working in tandem on the weekends—two women who had lived together for a long, long, time and knew what was expected of one another.

  “I’ll take this out if you want to get that bottle there,” Pam said, pointing to the wine and two glasses. She omitted, “Sandra won’t need a glass.”

  They walked out onto the veranda. The sun was just getting ready to set behind the house, casting a warm, gold glow over the water. Couples walking hand in hand, a boy running with his dog, a group of teenage girls laughing and conspiring, the beach was a vital part of life here in this house. You didn’t need to participate, just observe from the safety of the veranda. Pam was content to do so, while Marie not so much. She wanted to be part of the action, to walk hand in hand with Jack, run with her niece and nephew, chasing a Frisbee, beachcombing for glass and shells. Pam was a solitary woman; Marie needed others around her to breathe life into her.

  Pam had stopped taking a walk on the beach each afternoon. She had the sensation that when she was out there, her house kept getting farther and farther away, as though an undertow in the sand was working to remove her as well. It was an empty shell, with no husband, no children, and no life. After the fiasco early in the week with Sandra, she had an urgency to get home when she had to go out. Taking books back to the library, working out, and picking up groceries was done without wasted steps. She wanted to get her chores done and get back home. She had taken to closing the drapes again against the outside world. Her house was her cocoon. She nestled in, and there was nothing better.

  “What did you do this week?” Marie asked her as she poured her a glass of wine. “I thought about you, but decided to leave you alone. I know I have been kind of needy lately.” Pam watched from the corner of her eye as her sister picked up a cracker and spread Rondele on it. She tried not to breathe a sigh of relief.

  “What did I do? Not much. I had a couple of things to do outside of the house that occupied some time.” She thought of her flight into the city, short lived, but didn’t mention it. Marie wanted to hear more of what she was dealing with emotionally. “I am angry at Jack right now. It’s gut-wrenching.” Pam didn’t need to tell Marie the real reason for that anger; she knew enough without knowing the entire story. “But it’s nothing that I won’t get over with time.” Marie thought, I hope you are right, thinking that she was not going to add to her sister’s burden of shame, at least not right away.

  “The timing just isn’t right,” Pam went on to explain. “I feel as though I should be doing something beneficial, but I don’t know what that is yet. I’m not even sure what that means.” She realized she lead a selfish life, but wasn’t ready to confess that to anyone, especially her sister. Marie was shaking her head in understanding while she picked up another cracker.

  “I think I understand what you mean, Sis. What have I done with my life? At least you have the kids.” And then, treading lightly, she said, “I sort of wasted my life playing with Jack.” Pam looked at her, embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry for my part in that, Marie. You did fill in for me when I wasn’t able or didn’t want to participate in whatever shenanigans he was up to. In retrospect, maybe that was why he played around. Who knows if Sandra was the first?” Marie, squirming in her chair, took a big slug of wine. At that moment in time, she knew that her sister was doing some important work toward self-realization, something she would need if she were going to have a happy life. It might mean exposure; it might mean shame for Marie if her relationship with Jack came to light. She wanted a real life. Already, two weeks of his absence made Marie see that her relationship with her brother-in-law was abuse. He used her, not caring
whether or not she left them, but while she was there, he would take what he wanted of her. It was a cheap and easy way to get thrills without responsibility. And now, of course, he was dead and off the hook. Middle-aged and never had a date; it was sick! Did Pam think so? She decided to be brave and ask, not worrying if the question would make Pam think more deeply about her sister’s relationship with her dead husband.

  “Pam, can I ask you a question?” Marie was red-faced and scared, but determined, the wine providing the courage.

  “Of course! What?” Pam was sitting with her feet up on a chair, looking out over the golden ocean and azure sky mixed with purple, pink, and scarlet. Turning her head, she looked at her sister.

  “Did you ever think it was weird that I didn’t date?” Marie was leaning forward in expectation. Pam looked at her, then through her, thinking.

  “Yes, I thought it was weird—but only for a short time. Truthfully, I thought you might be a lesbian, but afraid to come out. Jack and I discussed you never dating, and he suggested that for a reason.” Marie sat, immobile, with her mouth hanging open.

  “Jack thought I was a lesbian? That’s what he told you?” Marie spoke in a clipped, strained voice. Pam nodded yes. “When did this conversation take place, if I may ask?” Marie said. Pam looked out over the ocean.

  “A long time ago,” she said. Marie was not ready to give this up.

  “What would prompt him to say something like that about me? What was the conversation? Come on, Pam, you can’t say something like that without some background!” She was trying to lighten up, to pretend it didn’t matter that her lover used a word like “lesbian” to describe her.

  “I was angry because you and he had spent the day at the park together. I saw the two of you walking along with his arm around your shoulder. I was in the apartment all day with the two kids. It was so long ago. I think I accused him of being in love with you. He denied it, of course. I asked why it was that you never dated, but spent every weekend here, hanging on his every word. He said he thought you might prefer women. It was as simple as that.” She turned to look at her sister, who was white as a ghost, and asked, “Was he correct?” Marie was ready to explode, but determined to be the bigger person, not to upset the apple cart when Miss Perfect was due any second, she just shook her head no.