Pam of Babylon

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “No, Pam, I’m not a lesbian, have never been one, never even thought of it. I am a little shocked that you were jealous of me. Why didn’t you ever say anything? I mean, I could have stayed home and gotten a life! I thought you wanted me with you!” She laughed and shook her head. “Unbelievable.” The doorbell rang at that moment.

  “Saved by the bell!” Pam exclaimed.

  She got up to let Sandra in, Marie following. She was not going to miss out on one second of the next forty-eight hours. Pam opened the door to a perfectly coiffed, made-up, sundress-wearing goddess. She was surrounded by her suitcases and accompanied by a sweating, panting cab driver who had hauled all of her things to the porch. When she saw the door was going to be answered and she wasn’t stranded out there, she turned and gave the driver a stack of bills. Then, turning to Pam and Marie, she said, “Over the river and through the woods! My God, what a trip!” Pam ushered her in, and the three women chattered like magpies, dragging bags up the stairs to the proposed room.

  “If you don’t want to be up here alone, you can have Lisa’s room. I am letting you decide,” Pam said. But Sandra was easy. “Up here is great. Then, if I get insomnia, I won’t disturb you when I am up walking around.” She looked around the room Pam had picked out for her. “Lovely. Thank you.” They placed the bags on the floor and turned to walk back downstairs, continuing to talk about the trip from the city for both women, what the weather was supposed to be like, and how hungry everyone was.

  Pam got Sandra a glass of lemonade, and they returned to the veranda. When Marie and Sandra were seated, Pam said she wanted to start dinner. It was simple—steaks on the grill, salad, roasted asparagus in season, garlic bread and flan, all store bought. She went and got the meat and vegetables to grill, while Sandra and Marie talked. They were speaking so lowly Pam couldn’t hear them.

  “I am sorry about the other day,” Marie said. “I think I was having a nervous breakdown.”

  “I was wondering! How are you feeling now?” Sandra asked. Marie was a little taken aback; there was no acceptance of her forgiveness, no “oh that’s okay” speech.

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Marie wondered what Sandra was referring to.

  “No special reason.” Sandra sipped her drink. “Pam,” she called, “can I help you with anything?” Pam walked out with a tray of food.

  “You both just relax. This is the easiest meal ever.” She put the tray down on the granite counter. Lighting the gas grill, she turned around to her guests while it heated up. “We are supposed to have fabulous weather all weekend. I thought tomorrow we could have a leisurely morning and then hit the antique trail before lunch. There are supposed to be several flea markets around the area.” Sandra smiled at her, but said nothing. The last thing she wanted to do was run around Long Island spending money. Marie wasn’t so tactful.

  “Ugh, no thank you. I’m not moving from this chair if I can help it.” Pam started laughing. “Okay, well that is fine, too. I thought we could have a choice in case boredom set in.”

  “Boredom would be welcome at this point in my life,” Sandra said. Pam grilled the food while trying to keep the conversation going. But the moment she turned her back to attend to the food, it died. She decided to stop working so hard and let things take their natural course. If Marie and Sandra had nothing to say to each other, it might be for the best.

  When the steaks were done, Pam dished up food for each woman and placed the plates on the table. She put extra veggies on a serving platter and placed it in the middle of the table. A large salad and the breadbasket and they were good to go. It was just the kind of meal Jack used to love, she thought. She sat down and looked at her guests, some of Jack’s favorite people. She raised her glass.

  “I’d like to propose a toast to my late husband, Jack, who would have been thrilled to eat a meal with the three of us.” They raised their glasses in honor of Jack. “Cheers,” they said, and drank. Marie had it on the tip of her tongue to say, “Maybe if one of us wasn’t alive, he would be,” but thought better of it. She cut her meat and speared a piece, popping it into her mouth. It was tender, the edges crisp and caramelized. There was just enough fat to make it moist and give it flavor.

  “Delicious, Sis,” she said. Keep it positive; keep it bland. That would be her modus operands this weekend.

  “This used to be Jack’s favorite meal,” Pam said innocently. “I wonder what he would say if he could see us together.”

  “What a bunch of ass-holes,” Marie said.

  “Marie!” Pam said.

  Sandra was mildly surprised. Jack never ate anything richer than a piece of fish with a salad when they went out for dinner; breakfast was another matter. She remembered stacks of pancakes, dripping in syrup.

  “In August, when corn and tomatoes ripened, we had the steak with boiled corn and tomato salad every night. I never got sick of it,” Marie said. “The first thing I thought of when I got off the parkway was which farm stand I would stop at to get the corn.” The three women ate in silence. Pam yawned, surprised at herself. It was probably the strain of jockeying what was said in front of whom. She got up and cleared the plates when everyone was finished, intending to bring the dessert out.

  “Before you leave, Pam, I wanted to say something, if I could.” Sandra looked up at Pam, who set the plates back down and pulled out her chair. Oh God, what was it now?

  “Okay, go ahead,” she said hesitantly.

  “Thank you both for your graciousness. I am humbled over and over again by your acceptance of me. That is all I had to say—for now.” She looked at Pam and then at Marie. Marie was forcing herself to keep quiet. She didn’t feel gracious at all. It was a minute-by-minute surrender trying to keep her mouth shut.

  Pam smiled and got up again. “My pleasure!” was all she could get out. If Sandra felt accepted, then more power to her. Piling the dishes up again, she took them out to the kitchen and put them in the sink. There was plenty of time later to scrape and rinse. She heard voices coming from the outside and decided to give them some privacy. Maybe she’d do those dishes now.

  Marie couldn’t help herself any longer. After Sandra’s little speech, she had her say, “My sister is the gracious one, Sandra. Pam is the one you’ve hurt—at least in the public eye. I wonder how different things would be if Jack were still alive. I fully intended on making him confess to Pam that weekend.” She sat looking at Sandra, her lips set in a thin line.

  “What do you mean in the public eye?” Sandra was on shaky ground here. Once the pregnancy was out, the world would know Jack had been screwing around on Pam. But since Marie didn’t know about the baby, she wasn’t sure what she meant. She wanted to know.

  “Just what it sounds like! You think she is the only one who loved my brother-in-law? Of course, the public simply looks at Pam and sees the widow! All of their sympathy goes out to her. The rest of us who loved him get nothing, no recognition. That’s what I mean!” Sandra was quick, and it took just a few seconds to figure out. She smiled a slow, sly smile.

  “So are you saying you loved Jack? I mean loved him like a lover, not a brother-in law?” That explained the decomposition in her apartment last Sunday. She had been in love with him, too. What a mess. Marie stood up, face contorted, and shoved the chair under the table with force.

  “Doesn’t take you long, does it? My sister lived with it right under her nose since I was a teenager.” Suddenly, she pulled the chair out and sat down on it, lowered her head, and started sobbing. This time, her voice was loud enough that Pam heard and came running out from the kitchen.

  “What is going on?” She thought Sandra might have sprung the baby news. Sandra mouthed “no” to Pam, and Pam looked at Marie again.

  “Marie, what is going on? What’s wrong?” Pam urged. Sandra repeated, “Yes, Marie, tell Pam why you are crying.” There was no way she was going to drop this bomb; let Marie do the dirty work. Marie was out of control now, head down on her folded arms on the table. Over and
over again, she said, “Jack, Jack, Jack.”

  Pam was getting frightened. She came around to the side of the table next to Marie, putting her arms around her.

  “Oh, Marie, I know you miss him! We all do!” She patted her head and said “shhh” to her sister. Sandra was at an impasse here. Should I sit and be quiet, or should all the cards be put out on the table? She was fairly sure Marie and Jack had been lovers. No woman responded to the death of someone like this unless they had been intimate, of that she was certain. She decided to speak up.

  “I think it was more than that,” Sandra said. Pam stood up.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She was pissed. What was Sandra implying? Once again, Sandra smiled her sly, slow smile and shook her head in disbelief.

  “Marie, what does Sandra mean?” Pam asked.

  Pam was thinking, No, this can’t be, because in her innocence, she knew all along that her husband had an unnatural relationship with her baby sister and she chose to look the other way. Now, it would be out there; it would have to be dealt with.

  “Marie, stop that sniveling and talk to me!” Pam yelled.

  Marie lifted her head. Pam gave her a napkin, and she wiped her face with it. She blew her nose into it. Sandra had her head resting on her hand, a silent observer. So this was the man I had an affair with! He was not only a phi-landerer, but a child abuser. Hadn’t Marie said she was a teenager when it happened?

  “Marie, tell me what is upsetting you. Please.” Trying to compose herself, Pam pulled out a chair next to her sister. She sat down, facing Marie. She needed to hear the story, no matter how awful. No one would ever recover from this if the entire thing weren’t exposed right then. “Marie, did Jack touch you?” It didn’t sound right since she was an adult, but Pam was at a loss. Marie shook her head yes.

  “When?” Pam whispered. “When did it start?” she asked, knowing the answer even before she spoke.

  “Remember the day in the park when I was fifteen and I wanted to go home?” Marie said, not mentioning the day she flashed him after their tennis match. Pam did remember. She stood up. Both of her kids had been with them that day. Where had they been while he was molesting his sister-in-law? But she didn’t say anything or ask any more questions. Marie had opened the floodgates, and as sometimes happens; she couldn’t stop once her mouth was open.

  “He fondled me under a blanket that day. The next night, he came to my room, and we did it. Every weekend after that, we either did it while you were out or he came to my room at night. Last year, I knew something was wrong because he stopped coming to me. Now I know it was because of Sandra. He was making love to her instead of to me.” She put her head down onto her arms and starting crying again.

  Pam was looking out over the ocean. Fucking Jack. What a royal jerk! A felon, for Christ’s sake! She turned around. What can I say to my sister that would matter? What can I say that would matter to anyone?

  “Marie, I am sorry. I should have known. I should have put a stop to it. I’m sure the reason it continued was that he was controlling you. I don’t blame you.” She walked around the table and put her arm back around her sister. She probably needed some therapy—big time. What an awful relationship! It would paralyze a person, that kind of perversity. No wonder she had an eating disorder. She looked over at Sandra who didn’t seem fazed by it. “Can you believe this?” Pam asked of her.

  “What else can happen to you?” was all she could say.

  Pam had to think quickly. Certainly, the weekend could not progress as planned. And it was too late to think about either woman leaving for Manhattan until Saturday. What to do? She could let things take their course, go on as planned, serve dessert, keep talking. Her head was buzzing. Another slap in the face. She wanted to be alone to think about each time she feared there might be abuse being committed under her roof. How was I able to convince myself otherwise? She confronted Jack again and again: “What is going on when the two of you are out? I don’t like the touching, the hugging,” she would tell him. He laughed her off. “You are imagining it,” he would say.

  Year after year, he was abusing her sister, with intercourse, not just fondling. Didn’t Marie say herself that he came to her bed? Pam closed her eyes for a moment. They made love almost every weekend. Was he leaving the marriage bed to go to his teenage sister-in-law for sex? And then she wondered something that had bothered her for years, something she never gave voice to then and wouldn’t now. But she said out loud in her mind, He always satisfied her first, and then would proceed, did he actually come? She was so naïve. Was it possible he wasn’t finishing? She detested this type of mind play. He was a filthy pig. Why rationalize it? What difference did it make now? But her flesh wanted details—the how, when, and where of deceit.

  Marie was pulling herself together. She sat quietly at the table, aware that it was over; there was no need to hide anymore. Finally, her side of the story was out. And Pam believed her. Pam, sweet, gentle Pam.

  Sandra sat silent, taking it all in. What was this family? she thought to herself. What a horrible, perverse mess. She put her hand over her belly, thinking, Thank God he was dead. He wouldn’t put a finger on this baby. Finally, after two weeks of grief, she felt vindicated. He was dead because he was too sick to be alive. Marie would have never disclosed her secrets otherwise. She said he had stopped sleeping with her when Sandra came along. How could I know for sure?

  “I think we need to be honest about everything now. Pam? Are you behind me in this?” Sandra asked.

  “Now is probably the worst time!” She was incredulous that Sandra would bring that up in front of Marie. Marie was alert now, smelling out more intrigue. What could be worse than what she just revealed?

  “What? What? I want to know, for God’s sake! Was he molesting his own kids?” she yelled.

  “No! Jesus Christ, Marie, stop it! Of course not!” She had no way of knowing if this was true, but she wasn’t about to open that can of worms.

  “I’m pregnant!” Sandra said, sitting up ramrod straight, defying anyone to stop her from stating the truth. “I’m about four weeks along.” Marie was staring at her, her mouth open and eyes wide.

  “You’re lying,” she said. Sandra laughed.

  “I’m sorry, Marie, but it’s true. You are going to be an aunt again. I hope you’ll agree to be in the baby’s life!” Pam and Marie continued to stare at Sandra but say nothing. She had to be nuts! Finally, Marie let loose.

  “You have got to be kidding me! You’re going to have it? How fucking selfish can one human being be? I told you she was a snake!” Marie said to Pam. At that point, Pam stepped in, placing her hand on Marie’s arm.

  “That’s not our business, Marie. We have to allow Sandra to do what she needs and support her.”

  Marie shook her off. “No, I disagree. You want another shocker? I had two abortions—Jack’s babies. He wouldn’t hear of it. Once when I was in college, at twenty, and the other four years ago, right after Christmas. When I told him I was pregnant, he went into a rage. ‘You did it on purpose!’ he screamed at me. I was afraid everyone in my dorm would hear him. ‘There is no way you are having a baby, do you hear me? Get rid of it!’ It was worse, the last one. When I started to cry, he put his hand over my mouth, like he wanted to strangle me. I couldn’t breath. ‘Stop crying!’ he shouted over and over. And he wouldn’t even allow me to recover. He came to my apartment after I had it done, after the abortion, and rammed into me. When he was done, he got up and left. I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the week. That weekend, he took off golfing in Las Vegas with Brent. I stayed in the city. I think I told you I wanted to do some Christmas shopping. Mother came and took care of me. I was so frightened; this time I got an infection. No one tells you how common that is. They make it sound like you just go in and zip zip, it’s over, baby gone. I blamed Jack for it; he practically raped me.

  “Things got better after that; he was at least cordial to me. But he was still rough
at night, like he was pissed off at me. I tried to get him to stop coming to me, but he would fly into a rage if I even brought it up, accuse me of being ungrateful, of using him. I got so confused that I believed him. We did more physical stuff together—golfing, tennis, swimming. He seemed okay about everything, not so angry.

  “Finally, last year, he stopped coming to my apartment during the week, and on the weekends, he never came to my room. It may have been because we almost got caught; Lisa walked into my room just as Jack was leaving. He told her he was in the kitchen and heard me crying and thought I was having a bad dream. I’m not sure she believed him. The smell of sex hung in the air. It was pretty intense for the rest of the weekend. I thought she would go to you and tell you. Now I think he stopped because he was sleeping with Sandra, and there was no chance of anyone catching them doing it.” She finally stopped.

  Pam was frozen. Sandra, white as a ghost, was disgusted. No one dared to say a word.

  “Why in hell should you have his baby? Do you think he would want it? Do you think it is fair to have everyone knowing whose baby it is? Lisa? Brent? No!”

  She was speaking Pam’s thoughts. But now, in the face of this latest travesty, the baby was the last thing on Pam’s mind. Was Marie insane? Did those things really happen to her? How could she prove it? She had to believe her husband was a moral, if not faithful, man. That he wouldn’t risk the well-being of his own children by having sexual intercourse with their aunt right next to their bedrooms. The Jack who forced Marie to have an abortion, then came to her apartment, raped her, almost choking her to death—that was not a man she knew. Sandra was looking at her with a questioning gaze. Pam shook her head no. She didn’t believe it.