The next morning, she tiptoed back to the children’s wing, and he was there, sound asleep. If he’d gone out, he didn’t stay long. Lisa never called her, and she didn’t want to call over there in case Dan answered the phone. She would just wait. Someone was bound to get in touch with her eventually if there was any news about Ed. She put a straw hat on, got a grocery bag and headed out to do a little beachcombing before the crowds came. Thursday was the last day of school, and she expected the beach to be packed with sunbathers later that day. Early mornings at the beach were her favorite. She wasn’t a prayer and didn’t practice meditation, but being on the sand alone, listening to the sound of the birds calling and the waves hitting the sand were meditative enough. It was difficult to hold onto pride and anger when confronted with the expanse of water, and if she gazed to the horizon, the beautiful blue sky mingling with the ocean was often enough to help her move beyond whatever was bothering her.
How was she going to cope with Lisa and Dan’s relationship? It just transcended anything she had experienced thus far. It was worse than Jack and Marie, worse than AIDS. What made it so awful was that they might live out their relationship before her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to bury her head in the sand as everyone had accused her of doing in the past. Ed’s getting sick was timely because dealing with it took precedence over any affairs or betrayal his wife might be involved in. Pam couldn’t help herself; she chuckled at the thought. Poor Ed. He didn’t know what hit him when he got involved with Jack Smith’s daughter. Her phone rang, and she got it out of her pocket. It was Lisa’s house phone.
“Hi, Mom,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that Dan called his sisters about taking over the kitchen until Ed gets better.”
“Oh, I forgot all about breakfast! How’s Ed, anyway?”
“I haven’t heard anything since last night. He made it through surgery, but he’s in the intensive care, so I can’t see him yet. When the doctor called to say he was out of the OR, he said to stay home with Megan, and someone would call me when they get him settled. They were unable to close his skull because of swelling. Poor Ed. They had to put a plate over his brain before they closed the scalp wound.”
Pam could hear soft sounds of crying Lisa was trying unsuccessfully to cover up. Her heart went out to her daughter. No matter what, no wife wants her husband to suffer.
“I’m so sorry,” Pam said. “I hope he pulls through.”
“Me too,” Lisa said. “I feel especially sorry for Gladys and Big Ed.”
“How sad for them,” Pam replied. “Well, thank you for calling. Stay in touch.”
“I will, Mom, goodbye.”
They hung up. Pam thought of what it would be like for the Fords if their son died. It was unimaginable, losing a child. How would they go on without Ed? Their other children were busy with their own lives, but Ed needed them, and they were completely enmeshed his life. Pam couldn’t imagine the pain they must be going through, and then she saw a glint of something shimmering in the sand, catching the sunlight. She bent over and swept the sand away. It was a piece of glass. It looked almost like mercury glass, but that was unheard of. She put it in her bag. It was good luck finding something so unusual. She would accept that as a good omen on behalf of her son-in-law.
Thinking about Dan again, Pam never noticed him taking any special interest in Lisa when she was living at the beach. Of course, she was pregnant at the time. He simply pounced the moment she was available. Pam wondered if he would’ve made a move had she not told him to leave her house Monday. Then she remembered that she told Dan Lisa complained that Ed wasn’t making love to her. “Did I really tell him that?” she said, mortified. Why wouldn’t I? she thought. I shared everything with him. Maybe it titillated him, imagining being the one to save Lisa from her frustration. And poor Ed sick the whole time, a deadly brain tumor pressing on vital structures.
Pam remembered how difficult it had been to face the truth about her marriage after Jack died. Now, she had to face something darker than infidelity. Her earlier resolve to forgive Lisa anything, forgotten. Her daughter was spoiled, selfish and immoral.
And Pam had raised her.
The sun shining in his uncovered bedroom windows woke Brent up before he was ready. He’d gone back into the city last night to see some friends, and was shocked when he’d discovered it was a set up; Julie Hsu was there. It frightened the hell out him seeing Julie and he didn’t waste a minute getting away; he’d barely made it over the threshold when he spotted her and made a U-turn out before she saw him. He was back on the 59th Street Bridge when his cell rang; it was his so-called friend, Bobby Mason.
“Thanks a lot, Mason,” Brent said. “I can always count on you for an unnecessary trip into the city.”
“Hey, what’s the big deal? And why’d you leave? Julie just wants to see you.”
“I doubt if she just wants to see me,” Brent replied. “She’s furious with me. I was afraid when I saw her in the bar.” He chuckled at his reaction. Afraid was not the word for it. He was scared to death.
“Well then, you won’t mind if I ask her out. I could use a little excitement.”
“Be my guest, but don’t mention my name,” Brent replied, hanging up. He could just imagine what Julie had planned for him if he’d stuck around the bar. She was so angry. When he asked her to come to Pasadena, he had no idea living with her would be so tumultuous. She’d given him the ultimatum about getting married, and he thought their life would be like his mother and father’s. His mother cooked and cleaned and served his dad, and his dad did whatever he wanted. He never heard his parents raise their voices to each other, or his father criticize his mother or his mother whine or nag. The secret things his father did—sneaking from his aunt Marie’s room, and living away from the family during the week—transfixed a young Brent. The collection of pornography his father hid unsuccessfully, hypnotized Brent, soon hooking him.
During the time before he lived with Julie, depravity had saturated his life, and he was sure he’d reached the bottom. The next step was crystal meth and death. He’d watched it happen with friends of his. The few months they’d lived together didn’t help. Then, after she left him, something snapped. He didn’t want to die, and he certainly didn’t want to die alone. Moving home with Mom would provide a safe, healthy environment to help return to normalcy, but not completely. He still wanted to have fun. Looking for the balance between acceptable behavior and debauchery would be Brent’s modus operandi. He wanted to be just like Dad.
***
Virginia Adams had a nice meal ready for Sandra when she arrived home. She put her briefcase down and tried to refocus. For a few moments, she was able to put aside her unhappiness with life and concentrate on all the goodness around her. Little Miranda was so excited to see her, grabbing her hands to pull Sandra to her work area, page after page of construction paper covered with drawings.
“She’s ready for preschool,” Virginia said. “As much as I enjoy being with her, I don’t know how to teach her more than her numbers and letters.”
Sandra was thinking, The child is only two. What more would there be at this age?
“Isn’t she a little young?” Sandra asked gently.
“Tommy says I need to do more with her,” Virginia said.
“Well, I think you’re doing just fine,” Sandra replied. “Look at this pile of work!” Then whispering to Virginia. “She’s not even completely potty-trained yet. I think preschool might be pushing it.”
Sandra was discovering that caring for a toddler was not all that it was cracked up to be. She’d never be able to do it if it weren’t for Virginia. Nelda was too busy lunching with the women in her retirement home to help with Miranda’s care. At the picnic on Monday, the main reason she and Tom braved shore traffic on a holiday was to give Marie’s family a chance to see Miranda. Nelda was barely interested, and the aunts couldn’t be bothered. Tom was furious.
“I’m going to make sure this is documented in detail,”
he said angrily.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sandra said. “It’s their loss. Your family makes up for it.”
“She’s their flesh and blood,” Tom replied. “No wonder Marie was fucked up.”
Sandra frowned, but nodded her head in agreement. “Totally,” she said.
Now, as she sat at the little table listening to Miranda babbling about coloring and Virginia was gathering her belongings together to leave, Sandra remembered to thank her.
“We’d be lost without you, Virginia,” she said. They kissed each other on the cheek.
“My pleasure,” she said. “Faith is coming to get me. Remember, Tommy is working late tonight.”
Sandra brightened up; she’d forgotten Tom would be late. And as soon as she put Miranda to bed, those diaries of Marie’s were coming out.
Chapter 25
Saturday is catch-up day for working members of society. Up and down the northeast corridor, it means waiting in long grocery store lines, jockeying for position at the dry cleaners and drug store, fighting for parking spots at the post office. Sandra had errands to run before she could meet Pam at Jack’s old apartment, which meant no lazing around in bed. Tom reached for her for sex, and she complied so he’d leave her alone the rest of the weekend. She stayed in his arms as long as she could stand it, extricating herself when she’d reached her patience limit.
“Are you going to work?” he said sleepily.
“Not this weekend. I have to get to the dry cleaners before ten and meet Pam midtown at eleven. You need to get up and get the baby out of her crib. She’s been singing for the last half hour.” Going into the bathroom, she locked the door. He would often try to join her in the shower, which could lead to another sexual encounter, and she wasn’t in the mood. Reading about Jack the night before in Marie’s diaries accomplished one thing; Sandra would try to stop fantasizing about a life with Jack for a while. But it also emphasized how boring her life had become.
Marie started to notice Jack wasn’t paying the same attention to her about six weeks after Sandra started working with him. They didn’t start a relationship until almost a year later, but as soon as she transferred there from the Bronx office, they started having lunch together, walking around the area afterward. Marie documented her confusion and concern.
June 30, 2009. Well, it was bound to happen. For the first time in memory, Jack didn’t try to have sex with me when we were together. I was ready for him last night, bathed with the soap he bought me (the same rose-smelling crap Pam uses), and then when he got here, all he wanted was a drink. He was going to start talking about work, but he caught himself. They have new employees; that much I got out of him. He’s been working through lunch frequently, too. I wish I could talk about it with Pam, but she doesn’t know we see each other during the week as much as we do. So I just suffer in silence.
It was more of the same for the next three months. Throughout that summer, Jack was courting Sandra. There was no other word to describe their relationship. They started to see each other after work occasionally for a drink, and then he finally asked her to dinner. Remembering like it was yesterday, up until the dinner invitation, she thought of Jack as a mentor only. Family photos were plastered all over the office; he was just a gorgeous older guy with a beautiful wife and kids. She was standing in his office with a research file in her hands, passing it off to him. When he took it, his fingertips grazed hers. Jack looked up at Sandra with a way he had, not seductive exactly, but sleepy eyed, with a smile on his face.
“Are you free to have dinner with me tonight?” he’d asked.
Sandra held her breath. If she hadn’t, she would have gasped. It was such an obvious switch from working through lunch to romantic dinner. She said yes, and he said he’d send a car around to her place at eight. That really got her; she thought they’d walk somewhere convenient near work, and then he’d put her in a cab. “Dress up,” he said simply. It caught Sandra off guard. She’d never needed a man to tell her how to dress, but then she thought, it must be somewhere special if he’d take the risk of embarrassing her.
“Okay,” she answered. “I’ll surprise you.” Blatant flirting was so unlike her that she flushed and started stammering, but Jack laughed and grabbed her hand.
“I’m counting on it,” he said with that dreamy-eyed look she’d grow to love.
They didn’t see each other again that day, and Sandra took a cab home instead of waiting for the train. While she showered, she deliberated about what she’d wear. Without a second thought, she knew, reaching into her closet for a beaded sheath. She took it out of the cleaner’s bag, hoping it would still fit. She’d worn it once, years ago, and never thought she’d have the opportunity again. It was snug, but her body carried it off. It was covered in sparkling bugle beads, bare armed and above the knee, but it was a warm fall evening. She piled her hair up on her head, and put diamond earrings in her ears that her father had given her for college graduation. She wore flesh-colored stockings and strappy sandals. Already almost as tall as Jack, the shoes put them at eye-to-eye level. She wondered how that was going to work. I guess I’ll soon find out.
She was ironing a white handkerchief to stick in her purse when the door buzzer rang. The car had arrived. Glancing at the clock, it was eight sharp. “I’ll be right out,” she said into the intercom, not bothering to buzz him in. She’d later accept that she knew that night she was walking toward something monumental in her life and might have heard a warning that she’d ignored. The thrill that someone of Jack’s stature would pursue her muffled all cautionary voices. It was a repeated scenario in her life.
The driver was waiting at the car with the door open, and Sandra didn’t realize until she sat down that Jack had come along. She had expected him to be waiting for her at the restaurant. Seeing him sitting in the car, staring at her, his long legs sprawled, exquisitely dressed in a tuxedo, convinced her he was worth a reduction in morals.
“Well, you’ve succeeded,” he said, giving her a smile that did corny things to her head; all the clichés about melting hearts and breath being taken away streamed through her mind. She pulled her legs into the car and turned to him while the driver closed her door.
Jack watched her every move: the way she positioned her legs so that her knees pointed toward his, her flat stomach bound with sparkling crystal beads, just a hint of cleavage.
“I’m glad you approve,” she said, but with a little unintended giggle.
Jack would later tell her that did it for him; he was hooked. The girlish delight his attention gave her built up his ego so that he would begin to withdraw from everything and everybody he’d used to fill his life with meaning. Sandra would read about it in Marie’s diaries.
September 30th, 2009. That bastard stood me up tonight. It was the night of Sandra and Jack’s first dinner out together. I’ve had it with him, and I wrote him a note about it. I put it in an envelope and had a messenger take it around to his office the next day. Then, I immediately regretted it. No one has the upper hand with Jack. No one. If I ever want to see him again, I better accept that this is the new order. I wonder who it is. I’ve never seen Jack so preoccupied. Not for his kids or his wife and certainly not for me. I hope the bitch is worth it. Marie wouldn’t find out until that fateful Saturday in May, before the Memorial Day picnic, when she’d see the couple out together on the Upper West Side. They’d spend time together weekly, but Marie never caught on. Sandra decided it must be hereditary, the ability to look the other way.
January 8, 2010. I’m at my wits’ end with Jack. We had an awful fight last night, and I thought he’d kill me. I told him I suspected he was seeing someone else and that I was going to tell Pam. Well, it got really ugly. He grabbed me by the arm and tossed me across the room like I was a rag doll. Then he attacked me. It wasn’t the first time. I fought him and think I succeeded in hurting him.
He called a little while ago and apologized. He’s on his way over.
And finally, March 2
5, 2010. Things are just different. He’s making love to me again, the kind of sex we used to have, slow and luscious and fabulous. Jack makes my entire body shake. But he’s not here when he’s here. Does that make sense? I’ve decided to take what he’ll give me, and as long as he’s sleeping with me, he has that much less to give another woman. My sister doesn’t seem to notice or isn’t sharing with me, but I doubt it. She’d tell me if she suspected anything.
Sandra was heartsick. She knew Jack had to have been sleeping with several women when they were together and to see it in writing was torture. But she seemed unable to put the diaries away. “That’s enough for now,” she said, promising herself she could pick it up again another time. She wanted to read the early ones, when Marie was a child before Jack destroyed her life, not knowing the writing didn’t really start until afterward. The need to know what kind of father he was vanished. She could see from the writings that he was a child abuser. That he didn’t touch his own children may have been miraculous.
Tom got the baby up and ready for a day in Bayside while Sandra prepared for her trip into the city. “I’ll see you later. Give Pam my love,” he said.
Sandra kissed Miranda good-bye and gave Tom a hug.
“Thank you for this morning,” she said, winking at him. She knew she didn’t give one hundred percent, but he wasn’t complaining, yet. She had a few tricks that seemed to work for him, and he was probably happy he didn’t need to put much into it to keep her happy.
“It was my pleasure,” he said, smiling.
She finally got out of the house and began walking briskly toward the train station.
“Hey, beautiful!” She heard the voice and recognized it, but didn’t react because it was so unlike anything she could imagine happening to her while she was on the streets of Brooklyn. “Hey, Sandra!” She turned around and, to her delight, saw Brent Smith.
The Tao of Pam: Pam of Babylon Book # 6 Page 22