Dream Lover (27 page)

Sandra could hear Tom moving around her little kitchen. It was comforting to have him there, after all. She thought maybe her state of mind couldn’t be trusted, that maybe it would be smart not to make any rash decisions now, decisions she would later regret. He was a nice, gentle guy; not perfect, but kind and diligent. She felt safe, protected, and loved. He wasn’t going to leave shortly to get home to his wife and kids. He could answer her phone if it rang and not hide that he was there with her. If she wanted, he would probably stay the weekend with her in Manhattan. But suddenly, she didn’t want to stay there. She needed to get out of her apartment. She called for him, and he came to her room, a questioning look on his face.

“Do you feel like showing me your apartment tonight? I feel like I could benefit from getting out of the city. And, I could finally see your place.”

“If that’s what you want, pack a bag and let’s go!” he replied cheerfully. “I’m not having much luck with dinner preparation, by the way. You are getting chicken and rice soup.”

She made a face. “Let’s get Brooklyn pizza for dinner, okay?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. When she stood up, he saw it. Blood.

“Oh boy,” he said, going to her. “You’re bleeding.”

She swung around and when she saw the blood on the bed and cried out, “The baby!”

“Do you have any cramps?” he asked, reaching for the phone.

“No, well I thought it was the hot dog. I do have discomfort.”

“What’s your doctor’s number?” She pointed toward her purse. He got it for her and she dug through it for the appointment card they’d given to her the last time she was there. She spoke the number and he dialed it and when it began to ring, handed the phone over to her.

“Get back in the bed, why don’t you?”

She did as she was told. When the answering service picked up, she explained the situation. “I’m about twenty-two weeks along and am bleeding. How much?” She looked at Tom and then turned over so he could see the back of her skirt and the bedding. He took the phone from her.

“This is her boyfriend. The back of her skirt and the sheets on her bed are saturated,” he told the operator. Listening for second, he put his hand over the receiver. “She asked me to hold on; she’s going to call the doctor while we hold.”

After a few minutes, the doctor was on the phone. She told Tom to take Sandra to the hospital.

“Come on, my dear, you are going for a ride in a police car.” Tom was trying to keep things light, but he didn’t feel good about this situation. Sandra pulled her clothes off without modesty and cried out when she saw the clots in her underpants.

“Oh my God! Am I losing the baby?”

Tom put his arm around her shoulders. “Get something on and I’ll take you right now.”

Sandra pulled on her pajama bottoms and then went into the bathroom to find a pad to wear so she wouldn’t bleed all over Tom’s patrol car. Just to be safe, she grabbed a couple of towels, too. There was an air of surrealism about the scene. She felt almost disconnected from her real emotions.
Am I losing Jack’s baby? Just like that?

Tom felt like the reluctant observer.
Why did this have to happen now
?
How much can this young woman handle without falling apart?
When she came out of the bathroom, Tom asked her if she was ready to go. He was holding her purse and her keys. He said a prayer for the baby in his mind, repeating it over and over again,
Protect the baby, Lord. Protect the baby, Lord.
His police training told him it was too late. But he wasn’t going to be a naysayer. Think positive! And then,
Protect Sandra, Lord. Protect Sandra
. He became frightened at that, and started thinking it as a chant.
Protect Sandra, Lord. Protect Sandra
.

36

S
aturday morning brought the end of Indian summer. It was dark and rainy and there was a chill in the air. Pam took her morning coffee out to the veranda and lit the fire pit. It threw off enough heat to keep her comfortable, but she thought that maybe this was the end of veranda season for her, after all. She turned the fire off and went back into the house. In the den, she opened the curtains so she could see the water. The fireplace was gas, and with the flick of a switch, she had a roaring fire going. With Jack’s desk gone, it felt like a new room. She looked around, imagining what she could do to it to make it even more comfortable. The room reminded her of a ship. A huge mullioned window covered the entire exterior wall. Afghans and pillows, most of which she had made, covered the overstuffed leather furniture. Each family member had his or her own afghan. Brent’s was a large circle that looked like a Spiderman cape. Lisa’s was in a faux plaid that looked very Native American. Jack’s had gone to Bernice at her request. Pam’s was pink and fluffy. When she’d finished it and brought it out for the family to admire, Jack had said right away, “I should have known.” Everyone had laughed. They knew exactly what he meant.

Pam sat in a leather armchair positioned so she could see the ocean. She and Jack used to sit there on winter nights, he with a pair of night vision binoculars and she with a cup of tea. He would talk about what he was looking at and she would listen. Did she ever contribute to their conversations? She had been a sounding board for him, but more than that, she just realized, she had been his audience. Jack could say just about anything to Pam and she would smile and agree, or rarely, frown and give him “a look.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, there’s that ‘look,’” he would say. “What’s wrong now? What don’t you agree with?” For some reason, Jack had to have her approval. They would stay up all night with him trying to convince her that he was right, or his opinion was correct. He would listen to her earnestly and take what she said under consideration and in the end, if she couldn’t change his mind, or he couldn’t change hers, they would call a truce. Jack never, ever allowed Pam to go to bed thinking he was angry. “Let’s agree to disagree, okay? Are you okay with that?” he’d say.

She would laugh. “Jack, get over it! It’s no big deal,” she’d tell him. But on the nights that they sat together while Jack spied on the world, Pam would think to herself,
How lucky am I! My God, why do I deserve this? Thank you, thank you.

She snickered. Yes, how lucky am I! And that instant, she decided to do what her sister and Sandra had done the day before and make a mental list of sorts. She would eliminate the cons because she felt like she had concentrated too much lately on the negatives in her life and not enough on the good things: her children, her wonderful children. Her family. Her health! Yes, her health, in spite of having AIDS, she was healthy right now and that was a thing to enjoy and not take for granted. This lovely home. She looked out over the dark sea and the rain hitting the water and the window glass. She loved weather. Being at the beach meant seeing the entire gamut of weather. She had never shied from it before and wasn’t going to now that she was alone. She might spend a night or two in Manhattan this winter, but she would not move there for any length of time. No. She was embarrassed to add, even silently to herself, that she was grateful for the wealth that Jack had left her. It was nothing to be ashamed of. He had worked like a machine for years to build his business, and he did it for her and their children. It was something to be proud of. They had always been generous to a fault with others. It was okay to be rich. She startled herself by thinking that word. It wasn’t one she had ever used in conversation. Polite people didn’t talk about money.

Getting up to pour another cup of coffee, Pam heard the phone ring out in the hallway. It was the manager of Organic Bonanza. Pam was surprised to hear his voice.

“Mrs. Smith, this is Dave. I was thinking about you this morning and wanted to give you a call to see how you are. The incident last week was awful and I want you to know how badly I feel,” he said.

“Thank you, Dave. I really appreciate you calling. It was sort of…creepy, for lack of a better word. Anyway, I love the store regardless! I need to come in today and pick up a few things, although I hate going out in this weather.” She looked out at the rain lashing the waves.

“What do you need? I live about two blocks from you; I can drop it off on my way home for lunch,” he offered.

“You eat lunch at home?” she asked, incredulous. She couldn’t help herself and started laughing. “I’d never eat at home again if I worked at that store.”

“Sometimes it helps to get out for a little while. Since I live so close, I can get away for a bit and take my dogs for a walk,” he explained. “So what’s your order? I’m ready with pencil and paper.” They laughed together, and Pam told him what she needed: just coffee creamer and bread. “You’d come all the way into the store for that?” he asked. They arranged that he would be there later that afternoon.

After they hung up, Pam fell to thinking about Dave from Organic Bonanza. He was about her age, maybe a little younger, and nice looking in a rugged, non-Long Island way. She wondered how a grocery store manager could afford to live in her neighborhood. And it crossed her mind that maybe he was single because he came home to walk the dogs. Unless his wife was out working all day. She grew annoyed with herself for thinking about him, feeling like a snob because the house thing came up in her thoughts. Then the phone rang again.

“Pam, it’s Sandra. I’m in the hospital.” And then she started crying.

Pam knew right away. She didn’t even have to be told.

“I lost the baby!” Fresh tears. “I have to have a D&C in a few minutes, but I wanted to tell you, I wanted you to know before I went into surgery.”

Pam forced herself to speak words of comfort to her grieving friend. Words that she didn’t feel. “Sandra, I am so sorry. How awful for you!”

“I can’t believe it happened! I didn’t feel right this afternoon and Tom was in the apartment with me when everything started,” Sandra cried.

“I’m so sorry!” Pam repeated. “What an awful thing to happen!”

Sandra talked a little longer and then said goodbye; the nurse needed to draw some blood.

“Good-bye Sandra, I’m so sorry!” Pam said for the third time. She was shocked with herself. The second she had realized in her heart that the baby was gone, all feeling for Sandra left. The change was swift and brutal. Standing up to retrieve her coffee, Pam was shocked and angered with herself.
What just happened
? she asked herself.

Outside, the storm escalated. Pam imagined it was windy and raining in the city, as well. Rain would be beating against the windows of Sandra’s hospital room. It would be gray and depressing. Pam’s last connection to Jack through Sandra would be flushed down the toilet, or tossed into the garbage. Sandra would be alone now, no mother or family to comfort her. Pam couldn’t bring herself to assume that role. Sandra’s young man—the policeman, Tom—would have to do it. Losing the baby was so sad. Pam imagined another part of Jack, gone. But Sandra would have no more power over Pam and her family. She was reduced to what she had formerly been: the immoral, careless young woman who had had an affair with a married man without thinking of the consequences. That Sandra was one of many made no difference to Pam at that moment. She would go through the motions of being a decent human being, but her “friendship” with Sandra had ended with the death of the baby.

Pam picked up the phone and dialed the number for the local florist. She would send flowers, cards, even meet her for coffee. But the hold Sandra had had on her, the demands to tell her innocent children the truth about their father, no longer existed. A long, slow breath escaped Pam, like a balloon deflating over time because it was old and worn out. How long had she been on edge because of Sandra? Time would tell.

She checked the clock. It was almost time for Dave from Organic Bonanza to arrive. She got up to freshen her makeup. She primped a little bit, giving herself the once-over in the mirror. Jack had been gone for five months. Enough time had passed. She was going to have fun again.

Marie woke up Saturday morning to the smell of bacon frying. She swore she still had steak and baked potato in her stomach. Although she hadn’t seen any evidence up to this point in their relationship, she prayed that Steve wasn’t a foodie like Jeff Babcock was. She rolled over and closed her eyes. Steve would come and get her when he was ready and as long as he didn’t care, she was staying in bed. Memories of their lovemaking filtered through her mind. Except for the “safe” part, it had been wonderful. Steve had put so much feeling into it and Marie felt that it was genuine. Blessedly, she had never thought of Jack once.