“And I love Natalie,” Ted was quick to say.
“But he’s gay,” Natalie said. “All the good men are, you know.”
“Yes, I think I’m finding that out,” Pam replied.
Natalie’s words hung in the air, and as luck would have it, Jeff Babcock came walking across the dune.
“Hello, hello,” he shouted. “Is my best friend home? I hear you over there, so don’t try to hide from me.”
“I’m here, Jeff. Come in! Where were you when I needed you?”
“You knew I was in Rhinebeck this weekend, didn’t you? What happened? Oh, hello,” he said, entering the veranda. He stretched out his hand to shake Ted’s.
“Lisa had her baby yesterday. And then Bernice had a cardiac arrest last night, but Tom just happened to be here!”
“I got your message. Don’t you know you should never let an angry cop inside?”
They caught up with each other, explaining the details to Ted and Natalie.
“Jeff, these are my new friends, Natalie and Ted. You’ll soon be visiting their apartment in Manhattan to pick up some belongings Jack left there.”
Jeff looked at her, baffled, but continued. He’d get the whole story later. The conversation swirled around for the next hour. Jeff acted as host, opening a bottle of wine, taking over when the hospital called that Bernice was doing well following her pacemaker insertion.
“I guess I better get back to the hospital and let Annabelle get a break. But I have so enjoyed this afternoon,” Pam exclaimed sincerely. “We must do it again soon.”
Jeff got phone numbers and shared his, making it more than an empty promise that someday they’d get together again for more than the video retrieval.
Ted called for a car to pick them up, and they waited out at the curb so Pam could leave and Jeff could go back home. “Well, that certainly went better than I thought it would after your faux pas,” Ted said.
“You mean because I decided to tell her the truth?”
“That, and because of Jeff. I found out he is single and available,” Ted said, darting his tongue around his lips.
“Oh, you are disgusting!” Natalie said, hurt. “You’re too old.”
“You’re right, but it’s fun to still be attracted.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she replied sadly. “I think us moving in together might have been bad for me because I stopped looking.”
“Gee, I guess I never thought that could be a problem,” Ted said, concerned. “Do you want me to move out?”
“I think if you’re considering seeing someone romantically, you probably should.”
Ted frowned, taken aback. What had Natalie been thinking about their relationship? “Wow, I guess I’m shocked,” he said. “I thought we were a family.”
Natalie turned away. She did think they were becoming more than a family when Ted spent a recent night in her bed. Friday night last week, they were talking and watching the news when Deborah was out with her boyfriend, Zach. Ted hugged her, and she allowed the feeling of his arms lingering around her body to tease her. Natalie moved her head, seeking Ted’s lips, and before he knew it, she was fondling him. It was purely physiological; he responded to her, one thing led to another, and they did it. He was scared to death afterward, not wanting to lead her on, not wanting her to feel used. But she had started it.
“I’m sorry about what happened last weekend,” he said, choosing that moment to address the pink elephant standing at the curb with them.
“I’m not. I wanted it. You wanted me, Ted. You can’t deny it.”
He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was shaking his head. “That’s not exactly true, Nats. We were holding each other like two friends, and you grabbed my penis. I’m gay, but I’m not dead, and it had been a long time for me. How would it have been if I had gotten up out of bed and put a stop to it?”
“Horrible,” she admitted. “It was the first in a long time for me, too.”
Ted was taken aback. “But what about Ben? I’m certain you told me you slept with him.”
“That was just sex,” she answered. “I made love to you. And what about the things you said to me?”
Ted frowned, trying to remember the words they exchanged.
“You kept saying how good what I was doing to you felt. That you loved me and were so glad I was in your life.”
He nodded his head, looking into her eyes. “Those things are all true. It felt amazing. And I do love you and am so thrilled we found each other, and our daughter. Look, the lesson here is never have sex with a friend. No matter how old we are, sex changes everything.”
The car finally arrived, and Ted held the door for Natalie. They were silent on the way back to Manhattan. A rogue tear escaped Natalie’s eye. She flicked it away before Ted could see, but it was the only one.
Chapter 14
It was after dinnertime when Pam returned home. Famished, she picked up the phone to invite Jeff for dinner.
“I’m delighted you called! Be right over.”
Pam scurried around her kitchen, pulling together a simple meal. Jeff was a chef, studied at the Culinary Institute in Rhinebeck, and he used to intimidate her, but not anymore. Fresh salad, a crusty loaf of bread, and cheese would round out tonight’s meal. She opened another bottle of wine to allow it to breathe, as he insisted she do, and he always remarked about it when he’d see it on the counter, waiting for him to pour.
“I’m here,” he called from the veranda.
“Do you want to eat out there?” Pam asked.
“Sure. Let me help you.”
“So! What did you think?” Pam asked flirtatiously.
“Was that a set up? Because he was eager to give me his phone number. I’m not so sure it went over well with the woman, however.”
“She’s the mother of his child,” Pam said, dishing up salad on two big plates. “I’m not sure what the relationship is, but there’s definitely some possessiveness going on. She positively bristled when you walked in with your white pants and shirt showing your tan.” Pam cackled, and Jeff pulled his shirt apart so more white chest hair showed.
“Oh my God, you’re insane!”
“Well, I’m going to call him. Now what’s his relationship to you?”
“Let’s sit, and I’ll tell you the whole gruesome story.”
So they took the food and went out to the veranda to eat. Pam told the story of Ashton and Jack and then Ashton and Ted and finally, his death.
“How sad,” Ted said. “It sounds like he might be able to use some help grieving.”
Pam laughed again. “I can only laugh because I’ve been there, okay? You could probably help him, but not in the way you helped me.”
“You are turning into a dirty old lady!” Jeff said.
Pam snickered, then laughed. “No, I hope not, but you know what I mean. Jack would have called what I just said foot in mouth.”
“What possessed you to throw his ashes today, of all days? It’s windier than hell out there, and I saw gray ash all over the beach. It’s quite disturbing.”
“If you’d been here, you’d have agreed. Listening to Natalie, I think every last ounce of respect I had for Jack flew out the window. It was like, ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ They have all this proof that my late husband was a reprobate. I’m talkin’ videos, too.”
Jeff put his hand up by his throat, alarmed. “Can they be trusted? I mean, I need to get over there and pick the whole lot up right away. You could make a killing.”
“What? You mean, sell them? Now I know you are insane.”
“No, just realistic. If they are saying those tapes are Jack’s, but his friend was storing them in his warehouse, they belong to you. Remember, I am an estate attorney.”
Pam was trying not to choke on wine, she was laughing so hard. “As a matter of fact, I told him you would be getting in touch and picking the videos up as soon as possible.”
The scenario played through her head. Brent was gone. Lisa was married t
o Dan. Who was she protecting by trying to cover up Jack’s immorality? “I hardly think selling Jack’s porno tapes would even be appropriate,” Pam said. Then she put her wineglass down and looked at Jeff. “Unless you want to act as his agent.”
Jeff took note, sitting up ramrod straight. “I need to see a sample of what they’ve got.”
“Jeff, you’re not serious! I’m just teasing,” she said, screaming laughing.
“Well, I’m not. Unless there are identifiable facial shots, we might have a gold mine.”
Pam shook her head and got up, pacing. “No, I just can’t do it. Even if we paid Ted off, there would always be that chance they’d let our names leak. It’s immoral.”
“Too bad,” Jeff yelled, jumping up. “This is your chance to get even with that putz!”
Pam put her wineglass down and started laughing again. She laughed so hard she bent over, slapping her thigh. “No, forget it. You’ll thank me someday. We’ll have to find another way to make a million.”
“I don’t even care about the money,” Jeff said, defeated. “I want to help you get even.”
“There is no getting even, my friend. But when you go to pick up the tapes, be careful not to get pulled over. I’d hate the cops to get their hands on all of that contraband. We don’t even know for sure what the tapes contain.”
“I think it’s a great idea, one you should consider.”
Pam was scared, she thought she knew Jeff Babcock well, but by the look in his eyes, she could see the wheels of misadventure turning. “Jeff, I’m warning you. Don’t do it. How much wine did you drink today, anyway?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to embarrass you. All your secrets are safe with me.”
~ ~ ~
So while Pam was trying to convince Jeff Babcock not to go into the pornographic video business, Sandra was alone in her bedroom, getting ready to pick up reading Marie’s diaries where she’d left off months ago.
Tom had gone back to his mother’s, and she didn’t try to stop him. Until they got scientific answers for the paternity question, Sandra didn’t see any reason to try to force him to be a father to Brent. It was just easier for him to stay away for now. She was meeting him to go to their family doctor’s office before work Monday for mouth-swab DNA samples. It was probably a waste of time because Sandra was more than certain her son’s father was Brent Smith. But whatever Pam had said to Tom diffused his anger, and he was eager to listen to reason. He’d even said that if the baby turned out to be Brent’s, he’d try fathering him. “How different could it be from parenting Miranda? I love her, and she’s not really mine.” It was all well and good now that he was feeling warm and fuzzy having saved Bernice’s life, to say he could be Brent’s father. Sandra didn’t know if she wanted him in the role. He’d been mean and vindictive, and the risk of that happening again made her leery.
Double-checking the doors, ensuring that Nelda was sleeping, Sandra took her cup of tea back to her bedroom. Tonight she was beginning a diary written when Marie was finished with college and beginning the job Jack lined up for her at the research company. He also found her the apartment within walking distance from the office.
I know why he’s doing this, making me work for a company he deals with on a daily basis, and living in an apartment in a desolate part of town. It’s so he can keep tabs on me. He can come and go as he pleases, and no one will know.
The job is so boring! Granted, it’s an editing job, but real estate demographic reports? Tax records? Planning commission notes? Ugh. Why am I so weak when it comes to Jack? I want to be free to see other men. He takes up every second of my free time. I meet him for lunch almost daily. Well, not lunch exactly, he might buy me a hot dog from a vendor’s cart. And it’s always rushed. We’ll eat leaning up against a building, watching everyone walking by, and then he might push me into an alley and make me bend over a garbage can. If he has time, he’ll take me back to my apartment in a cab. Or if I’ve driven my car, we’ll do it in the car. Afterward, I feel triumphant and horrible at the same time. Why do I keep allowing it?
Putting the diary down, Sandra felt Marie’s frustration. In early adulthood, Marie doubted the wisdom of allowing Jack to control her, yet she tolerated it. Sandra got up out of bed and walked back to the closet where she’d hidden the box of diaries. There was an earlier one, maybe one of the first Marie wrote. What was the mind of a young girl pursued? Didn’t her mother and father see changes in her that would lead them to believe something was very wrong at Pam’s house? There was a perfect symmetry to the actions of Lisa easily falling into the arms of her mother’s lover after having been exposed, even atmospherically, to the secret relationship of her father and aunt.
While looking for an earlier diary, Sandra discovered the vinyl-covered, adolescent diary with an image of a childhood icon, complete with mouse ears. There was a tarnished, pitted metal lock in place to keep snooping adults from reading the contents. Digging through the box, Sandra hoped to find the key but was disappointed.
She went to the bathroom drawer where she kept hair supplies, hoping to find a hairpin, but she hadn’t used one in years, and there wasn’t anything even close. Across the hall in a small room where they kept the computer, she found a box of paperclips, and maybe one bent just right would pry the lock open. She thought to cut the vinyl belt that secured the back of the diary to the lock, but it was too final. She wanted to be able to lock it up again. Bending the tip of the clip, she inserted the end into the tiny lock and started to twist it to the left and then to the right. After a few seconds, she heard a click and was able to pull the metal tab out of the lock.
Heart pounding, she got back into bed with the diary. Opening the cover, she came to an inscription in childish cursive. Stay out! If you’ve gotten this far, do not venture beyond. You’ll be sorry! Grinning, Sandra remembered being a preteen and how trusting an age it was. She wondered if Marie had still trusted when she was able to write those words with such confidence. Exactly how old was Marie when she wrote it? Sandra thumbed through the diary, but couldn’t find a number until this…My sisters gave this to me for my fourteenth birthday. Nothing much happens to me during the week. I get up every morning and have Frosted Flakes with cream. My mother believes plain milk on cereal is just wrong. Don’t ever have cream on your cereal. You’ll never be able to have it any other way.
Marie seemed immature for a fourteen-year-old, as if she were ten or eleven. Sandra smiled, imagining the young girl just entering puberty. And then she remembered that Marie struggled with anorexia all her life, but not yet.
Anyway, every day I go to Saint Anselm Girl’s School, three blocks away from our house. My mother says my noni and grandpa bought the house because it was close to our parish. She went to Saint Anselm, too. My sisters went before me. They were good students, so it is hard to follow after. The teachers expect me to do as well as my sisters did.
It’s a Catholic school, and the uniform is a white blouse with a blue tie at the collar and a navy blue pleated skirt. I need to wear a bra, but my mother makes me wear an undershirt. She said I can get a bra when I’m fifteen. Pam tried to talk to my mom, but she wouldn’t listen. Pam cut pieces of grey tape, and we put the tape over my nipples before I put on my undershirt. I never see boys during the day, but my math teacher is a man, a creepy one, too. He looks at all the girls’ breasts.
Sandra sat quietly while the first flood of heat went through her body. She considered what she just read as a form of child abuse. She remembered a female gym teacher who stared at the naked girls showering and how angry it made her; her mother had her dismissed from gym class after that, going to the trouble of getting a doctor’s note. Why didn’t they address the real problem? The leering, creepy teacher? She’d make sure to do so if Miranda or Brent ever had a problem in school.
I get through the week by thinking about the wonderful weekend ahead. Every Friday, my sister’s husband, Jack, comes into Brooklyn from Manhattan and picks me up from
school. I wait in the front yard by the bus stop, and all of my classmates watch and drool when he pulls up in his car and leans over to open the door for me. He says the same thing every time. Hop in, gorgeous! He holds my hand the whole way back to the city while he talks nonstop about his day. I could listen to him talk about what he does for the rest of my life. He asks about my day, too. He gets me to talk about everything, but I avoid telling him anything that might be unpleasant.
This is top secret. That math teacher I mentioned before? He touches the girls. He might just put his hand on their shoulders, but his fingers brush the tops of their bras. Not me, because I don’t wear one. But he pretends to drop things on the floor and bends over. We know he tries to look up our skirts. I told Jack, and all he said was to stay away from the man. I really thought he’d go back to school and get in a fight with the math teacher. I know he won’t do anything about it, so I don’t tell him secrets.
Sandra decided this new information about Jack shouldn’t be surprising. He didn’t protect Marie. Had he been planning all along on abusing her? She read the rest of the first diary, and it was stories about her field hockey games and family dinners, nothing more about Jack.
Leafing through several journals, Sandra found what could have been the next one written. I’ve been watching Pam and Jack having sex. It came out of nowhere, Marie’s confession startling. She kept reading. I heard noises, moaning and bed squeaking, so I got up and crept to their door. The doors are tall, old doors with big keyholes, and I crouched down and looked in. The first time I had to figure out Jack was doing something to my sister’s privates with his mouth. It was disgusting. Then I saw him get on top of her, grab his thing and put it into her. I had the full view.
At first, I thought it was funny. But the more I watch, I want to do it, too.
Sandra was appalled. Pam knew her sister was in the house; it sounded like she was in the next room. Yet they had loud sex. Why didn’t she protect her teenaged sister from that knowledge? Her own parents had a loving relationship yet never exposed her and her sister to their private lives.
In Memoriam Page 12