Family Dynamics (Pam of Babylon Book Five) (18 page)

“Hey! Good to see you,” Dan said as he bounded up the walkway. Dave put one of the bags down, and when Dan reached for his hand, he shook it. The age discrepancy between her and Dan was evident, and Pam closed her eyes for a second, exasperated. This encounter couldn’t go anywhere good.

“Dan Chua,” he said to Dave. “Nice to meet you. Are you ready to go?” he asked Pam, winking at her, not giving Dave a chance to reply.

“I am,” she said. “Thanks for dropping by, Dave. Sorry about this.” And then, “Maybe another time.” She cringed, having put her foot in her mouth, but it worked. Dan piped in.

“Absolutely. We have reservations or we could stay and chat,” he said to Dave. “Here, let me help you get this back to your car. What is it? Rotisserie chicken? My favorite from your place!” Dave couldn’t be rude after that, but he did pull away from Dan’s offering hand.

“I can manage, thanks,” he said, turning to go to his car. Pam felt awful but stayed quiet. Dan put his hand on her back as they walked to his car. Dave wasn’t going anywhere unless they moved the Porsche. The engine roared when he turned the key. He rolled out of the driveway and waited to pull away until Dave was out of sight.

“Well, that was awkward,” Pam said. “I feel like a heel.”

“You shouldn’t. He’s a grown man. We know we shouldn’t go anywhere unannounced.” He glanced over at her, smiling. “Are you ready?”

Pam looked at the house. “I guess so. I was a lot more ready before he showed up. As a matter of fact, I was rather thrilled about tonight. Maybe that feeling will come back.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it up to his mouth, kissing it. “I’m too old to pretend or to play hard to get.” She knew that in her current circumstances, if she had to walk on eggshells, the relationship was doomed. Look at her and Dave, for instance. “And for the record, my best friends are Jeff Babcock and my late husband’s mistress. If you have a problem with that, we’d better stop now.” Dan laughed and then apologized for it.

“No problem! I love Jeff,” he said. Pam wasn’t sure if he knew Jeff was gay, but it wasn’t her business. “And you are a special woman to be able to forgive someone who betrayed you.” Pam looked out the window as they drove past houses where people were spending their Friday evenings together. She imagined other women whose husbands returned home from Manhattan each night, ate dinner with the family, went to soccer practice, took out the trash. Looking over at Dan, she had a pang of remorse. Why did they have to find each other now? Why not before AIDS? And then she laughed, remembering that she was ten years older than he was.

“She didn’t really betray me, not like we think of betrayal. She was a selfish young girl. Trust me, she’s paid her dues. Someday I’m sure you’ll meet her.” He let go of her hand and turned the wheel of the car into the driveway of their new favorite restaurant. When he shut the car off, they sat looking straight ahead for a few minutes and then, synchronized, turned to each other to speak.

“You first,” Dan said.

Pam shook her head. “Go ahead,” she urged.

He paused and took a deep breath. “I think we have something here,” he replied.

“You do?”

He nodded his head. “I think it’s something we need to protect.”

Pam nodded her head in agreement. Protect was exactly when they needed to do. But how? How do two adults protect their relationship?

“How do we accomplish it?” she asked. “Hide it?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I am actually thinking we should be exclusive.” He put up his hand. “I know, I know, it’s only been a week.” He glanced at her again, a questioning look on his face. “Do you think I’m rushing things?” Pam was actually trying not to laugh again; did he think she had a date book? And then she remembered the Dave situation. Maybe that’s where he was coming from.

“Look, if you are worried about Dave, that was just a companionship we had. I wasn’t intimate with him.”

“I didn’t think anything of it, trust me,” he said. “I’m probably possessive but only because I don’t want you to see other men, and I won’t see other women. I want people to know we are together.” Pam was struggling with the concept of having this discussion already. But she liked him as much as he seemed to like her. Maybe people didn’t wait around nowadays.

“I definitely don’t want to see anyone else, so it’s a deal. And trust me, if I thought you were the womanizing type, we wouldn’t be together. I’ve had enough of that scene to last a lifetime.” She’d stunned herself! She didn’t need to hide Jack’s true character from Dan. The tension in her body was released at that exact moment.

“Whew! I feel like a new woman. I’ve never confessed that Jack was a cad. I mean people knew, but I felt a loyalty to him, maybe because of the kids,” she said. And looking at him again, she had to say, “Sincerely, thank you.” But there was a lingering feeling neither of them could shake, the feeling that something profound was taking place, something yet to be revealed. Dan reached over and pulled Pam to him, kissing her passionately. He’d already accepted that he was in love with her, that she could die of AIDS long before they grew old, and although he wouldn’t put those thoughts into words, the emotion, the sadness of it permeated their conversation. She might say she was grateful, that she felt relieved that she could be honest with him, but her darkest thoughts only slightly mirrored her words. She used words like “betrayal” and “cad” to describe people and their treatment of her, but the devastation was much worse. Dan would struggle with Pam’s acceptance of Sandra as her only female friend, no matter how many dues she’d paid. Did she really make restitution to Pam for wrongs done? Not hardly. But he would never, ever make it an issue between them. He had already assumed the role of supporter, of nurturer—and, he hoped, someday, lover.

While he held her, he mouthed a silent, ancient prayer,
Protect my heart’s friend, spirit of the earth
. Suddenly, without provocation, Pam began to weep. She was so alarmed and angered at her lack of self-control that she pulled away from Dan and grabbed her purse to rummage for a hankie.

“I am so sorry! I don’t know where this is coming from. Please forgive me,” she pleaded. But Dan wasn’t letting her get away and pulled at her to hug her again. “This is so not me,” she said, contradicting her former declaration that she wouldn’t walk on eggshells with Dan. But Dan only cared that she was free to take whatever journey this was. He knew she was still grieving a profound loss, both of an imagined beloved spouse and the illusion that her marriage was sound.

“Just relax, will you? You’ve been through a lot. The only way you’ll heal is by feeling it. You can feel it with me, OK? I’m not going to force you to move on before you’re ready. Just take it slow.” She fell against him, sorry that the center console was between them. In a short time, she felt better and straightened up to look in the visor mirror.

“Oh hell, I look awful now,” she declared, picking up her purse again to get her makeup bag. Dan looked over at her and smiled, already resigned that Pam rarely went anywhere without a perfect exterior. She applied fresh lipstick, patted the mascara from under her eyes, and brushed her hair, forgetting she wasn’t alone. When the realization hit her, she put her brush down and started laughing. “Wow, the mystique, if there was any, has to be shot. I am so embarrassed.” But she kept primping. “OK, that’s as good as it gets, and I’m getting hungry. Should we go in? Did we miss our reservation?”

Dan looked at his watch. “We’re right on time,” he said. “Stay right there.” He got out of the car and walked around to her door, opening it, and offering his hand. “Madam?” he said. She took it and groaned as he pulled her up out of the low car and into an embrace. They had another hearty laugh. She thought but didn’t say it out loud:
I hope I don’t remind him of his mother
.

Chapter 22

B
ernice returned to The Eagle’s Nest Retirement Center in a private ambulance. She was lucid but seething. She remembered almost the entire episode that led to her hospitalization: the decision to go seek out the mansion, hailing the cab, the indifferent cabbie, and then the horror of not being able to find her home. At first, she thought she was losing her mind. But the realization that the mansion was gone, torn down without regard to its history and beauty, and a monstrosity being built in its place, hit her. Some foreigner had come along with a load of cash and bulldozed through her life. As the nurses scurried around to get her settled back in her room, the thought occurred to her that a foreigner—Pam—had done it. Pam, the bane of her son’s life, had made those plans without consulting her. It was taking all the self-control Bernice had, but she needed resolution right that minute.

“Call my daughter-in-law! I must talk to her this minute,” she yelled.

“She was at the hospital with you, Mrs. Smith. She’ll be on her way to Babylon by now,” the nurse said. Bernice thought for a minute. Had Pam been in her room that morning? How would anyone here know that fact?

“How do you know?” Bernice asked, repeating her thoughts.

“Because she came here afterward and read us the riot act. That’s how I know. Believe me, we’ll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on. Imagine! Taking off like that, getting a cab, and getting sick on the sidewalk!” Bernice looked away; discussion about her public humiliation was not going to take place in her own room. She’d forgo insisting Pam be called and do it as soon as she was left alone. “If anything had happened to you, not only would I have lost my job; my life would be ruined because I’d feel so bad. Why don’t you start thinking about someone else besides yourself all the time? Jeez!” The nurse glared at her, picking up her chart and stethoscope and leaving the room without saying goodbye. She’d accomplished making Bernice feel a little guilty, but it was soon forgotten as Bernice swung her legs out of bed and reached for her beside telephone. The public jaunt had limbered up her body, and she was ready to go now. She would make sure from now on she wouldn’t miss one opportunity to exercise. She was poised over the keypad of the phone and suddenly couldn’t remember Pam’s telephone number.

“What?” she said out loud. Jack and Pam had had the same number for years, ever since they moved out of the city. And
now
it was going to escape her? As happened so often lately, with one lapse of memory came a torrent of it, and before long, Bernice was wandering the elegant halls of The Eagles Nest Retirement Center in a hospital gown, no underpants, and the back entirely open.

After she got home from the hospital, Nelda had a chance to putter around her room with baby Miranda napping. Of all the things she loved in her simple life, next to cooking, puttering was probably her favorite. She would go from task to task, often making a big mess in the process. Today she was going to clean out her closet. Having lived with Steve in Greenwich Village only a short time, the condition of the tiny closet just proved that it doesn’t take long for an empty space to fill up. Everything she had of value was stuffed in that closet: boxes of photo albums, mementos of her marriage and her daughters’ early years, and a few treasures left from her mother-in-law’s estate. Her own family lived in Michigan, and it could have been New Zealand as far as she was concerned. In sixty years, not one of her sisters or brothers had ever made the attempt to visit her, nor her own mother and father, who lived to be in their seventies as well. Nelda forgot they existed after they ignored the births of her four children. For some reason, this afternoon, memories of her father filled her head as she unloaded one box after another, standing in her high heels and nylon stockings to reach for the very highest of boxes. It was while she was in this pose that she imagined she heard her father’s voice coming from behind her.
Nelda, it’s almost time for your visit!

“Dad?” she said. As she twirled around, a barrage of heavy boxes fell from the top shelf and tumbled onto her, hitting her in the head, and when she fell to the floor, covering her body.

Steve loved Fridays, too, but for different reasons than Sandra or Pam. He liked stopping at the dive bar where he first met Marie rather than going straight home like he usually did. He’d go and sit at the bar, holding his hands up in the sign that the bartender knew meant two fingers of scotch. They always brought him two because he’d down it in one gulp and nurse the second one.