In Memoriam (23 page)

“I never threatened you,” he said, anger growing. He didn’t like drama in his personal life, especially on his day off.

“Why are you doing this? Does she feed your ego? I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, continuing to lie. “She’s history. I’ve tried to get her to leave me alone, but she’s persistent.”

“I don’t care,” Lisa answered. “Avoid her, change your phone number, or let
me
tell her outright, but stay away from her. My mother seeing you with her in public really makes my day.”

Dan was seething. “She probably couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“No, that is not the case at all. I called her to ask for advice about overhearing your sleazy telephone conversation, and she told me what she’d seen to satisfy my curiosity. I was ready to follow you tomorrow, if you must know. She was trying to prevent me from going.”

A wave of nausea hit Dan. If Lisa had followed him, it would have been nasty. He and Cara were going to spend the day in Atlantic City.

Saved by the cry of a baby, they left the maid’s room. Marcus was awake, demanding to be fed. “Oh, you little thing,” Lisa cooed. “Only seven pounds and already ruling the household.”

Dan went into the bathroom to shower, and Lisa got on the bed to nurse. She wanted to nap once the baby was finished, but the instinct to watch Dan’s every move would override her need to sleep. It would become a way of life.

Chapter 21

Sandra accepted that she and Tom were through, giving her a feeling of freedom and peace. He was unable to make a commitment to try to be a father to Brent simply because he didn’t have the desire. When she got back to the office that afternoon, she’d sent Tom a text. But he called her back.

“Why are you bothering, Tom? If you don’t want to try, we have nothing more to say to each other,” she said, astonished.

He’d come back in the first place only because there was a chance the baby was his, not because he was so much in love with her he was having second thoughts about breaking up. She vacillated between relief and anger. Something he’d said to her resonated.

“I wish it was safe to have unprotected sex with you so we could have our own child. But I’m not willing to take the risk.”

Glad he wasn’t standing in front of her, the urge to smash his face in with her purse was strong. “Get your things out of the house this afternoon. As I said, I want you and your mother gone the second I step over the threshold.”

“Who’s going to watch Miranda?”

“That’s no longer your problem, Tom.”
Don’t sell yourself short,
she thought proudly.

Trying not to think of the difficulties the separation of their lives would create, she’d focus on taking one day at a time. She and nanny Valarie gathered up the baby things and left for the weekend. Valarie agreed to take the train from the Bronx into Brooklyn every day to watch both children. She’d cover the weekends, too, until Sandra could find a second person. Childcare was one worry Sandra wouldn’t have.

The car pulled up behind Tom’s unmarked cruiser parked in front of the brownstone. The back seat already piled to the ceiling with his belongings, he hadn’t disappointed her. Inside the house, Miranda was sitting at the table having dinner when Sandra walked in carrying Brent in his car seat and juggling bags and briefcases.

Tom didn’t come forward to help her. While Virginia was ready to go, she also seemed reluctant to leave Miranda, and it was apparent she’d been crying. Sandra didn’t address it, and there were no good-byes or promises to stay in touch for the sake of the child. They finally left. Sandra would have the locks changed yet again, and no one would have a key except Pam. It was the cost of being friendless.

Putting the car seat on the kitchen table, Sandra would initiate her own routine now. “I’m going to get out of these clothes, and then we can eat together. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Mandy’s already eating,” Miranda answered.

“I see that,” Sandra said. “What is it?”

“Something mushy,” Miranda said, making a face.

“Do you want me to throw it away? You and I will make dinner together if you’d like.”

The child held her plate up to Sandra. “Throw it away.”

Sandra burst out laughing. “Okay, kiddos, let’s go back to my room.”

Miranda got down from her chair, Sandra taking her hand and then picking up the car seat again. The new routine would add an hour to her already crazy evening schedule that night, but it was fun. This was what mothers who worked had to do.

They made soup together, Miranda standing on a chair next to the counter.

“One thing I can do is open a can,” Sandra said. “Hopefully, Valarie can cook.” She explained who Valarie was.

The child looked up at Sandra with a quizzical expression. “Is Grannie Virginia coming back?”

“No, honey. She’s going to stay home, and Valarie is going to come instead.”

“Will I like Valarie?”

“I think so. You let me know tomorrow if you like her, okay? She already watches baby Brent, and he seems to like her.”

“Okay, Momma, I’ll tell you if baby Brent and Mandy like Valarie.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sandra would count on Miranda to recount the day with a new sitter.

Feeding and bathing both children and getting them into their cribs took what was left of her energy. There were a few hours before bedtime for her favorite activity, reading Marie’s journals.

The last time she read, it was the second diary that detailed how the sexual abuse began. Sandra didn’t think she could stomach more of that as she opened the third book.

My mother threatened me that she won’t allow me to go to Pam’s on the weekends if I don’t do better in school. I have two weeks before report cards come out, so I am working my butt off to get homework done and do well on tests. I go into the chapel every morning and take a dime from my lunch money to light a candle. I say a prayer to Saint Joseph of Cupertino that I will do well on tests. People who aren’t Catholic don’t realize there is a Saint for every need.

I love God. I know He is with me when I am at Pam’s house. He is in the room when Jack comes in to me. I know God wants me to tell my mom and dad, but I can’t. I love Jack. I can’t believe he wants me. He tells me I am beautiful all the time, that he loves me. My heart pounds so hard when its time for me to go back to school. I want to live with Pam and Jack. But I have to live in Brooklyn. I have to go to school, do what my mother says. I come home every Monday night and cry myself to sleep after I do my homework because I miss Jack so much. I can’t eat. I don’t want to eat. Jack says he loves my body the way it is.

This was the first mention of the negative effect the abuse was having on Marie. Disgusted at the description of Jack, Sandra wondered if it wasn’t calculated, his way of keeping her a child. If she starved herself, she wouldn’t develop more.

Today the nurse made me get on the scale. I’ve lost twenty pounds. She called my mother, who thinks they’re making a big deal out of nothing. “She was chubby to begin with,” she said. The nurse said that wasn’t true, my weight was normal, and now I’m too thin. I don’t think I’m too thin. Jack says I’m perfect. My goal is to stay perfect. It’s not easy, because now everyone is watching me like a hawk, Pam standing over me, making sure I eat, or my mother refusing to let me get up from the table until I’ve eaten everything on my plate. An easy solution is to go into the bathroom and drink gelatin in warm water. I read that in a magazine. It makes me throw up every time, although the last two times I had to stick my finger down my throat because everything didn’t come up.

Bowing her head, Sandra began to weep. Marie’s life consisted of Catholic school during the week, sex with her sister’s husband on the weekend, throwing up after each meal and trying to hide it. No longer writing about field hockey or her other friends, Marie filled pages of her diary with details of how she struggled to control her life. Why didn’t Pam insist that Marie have a life with friends and activities? She was as much to blame as everyone else.

When her family could no longer ignore the fact anorexia was killing Marie, they took action. Admitted to an inpatient eating disorder facility, she was now at the mercy of the staff. In spite of being in anguish over the separation from Jack, she never divulged a word about him in her diary.
I’m afraid they’ll snoop and read this. I can’t even use the toilet without being watched. At breakfast the other day, I had to finish a small pancake, the frozen kind that’s toasted. My mother would never serve us something so gross. She made homemade pancakes with real butter and maple syrup. I never thought I would want Nelda’s food. I told her over the phone that I missed her cooking, begging her to let me come home. She said if I gained ten pounds, she’d ask the doctor if I could leave.

I’m home! I stopped writing when I caught a nurse reading my diary. She was standing in my room with it in her hands. That was all I needed; I would do what they wanted. I gained the darn ten pounds. I stuffed myself, didn’t go to the bathroom, drank water, anything to make the scale move up. They know all the tricks, but I was stubborn.

My mom wouldn’t let me go to Pam’s that weekend. I had to prove to her that I was going to eat and keep it down. She watches every move I make. School was good all week, my classmates kept their distance like they were afraid of me, but it’s easier that way. I have too much to hide, and they wouldn’t understand if they knew the truth about me.

When Friday rolled around, I expected Jack to pick me up from school like he always did in the past, but he never showed up. I ran home crying. My mom was waiting for me with a snack. It wasn’t much, an apple and a small muffin. I was already furious. I asked if I was going to Pam’s, and my mother said not this weekend, maybe next if everything goes well. Goes well? I asked her what did that mean? She said it meant that I had to continue to eat and behave in school. It pushed me over, her comments did. My mother has that effect on me at times. I started to scream and cry, I even attacked her.

My father walked in from work and found us on the floor. My mother was trying to stop me from hitting her. My dad smelled like the sewer. My dad is the gentlest man, and he looks so handsome in his uniform every morning. I know he works in the sewer, but I guess I never noticed him when he came home in the afternoon. He’d always go right to shower and change his clothes. Seeing him dirty and smelly was the final straw. I said if they didn’t let me go to Pam’s right then, I’d kill myself. I’ve never thought of doing such a thing, but seeing the power it gave me over my family, I would use it to get my way.

I’m not sure what happened next, but within an hour, Jack was double-parked out at the curb, beeping the horn. My father came out with me, throwing my bags in the back seat. He motioned to Jack. They stood behind the car and kept looking at me. My father said something about keeping an eye on me. When Jack got back in the car, he pulled up a few houses, out of view of my parents. He let me have it. Don’t you ever do that again, do you understand me? I can’t stand babies and whiners. If you threatened something, you better be prepared to do it. That old man of yours works his ass off for you. Show some respect.

Why didn’t Jack give the Fabians money? Jack was so generous with everyone, why not his wife’s family? Sandra didn’t know that Jack, but she was in for a surprise.

If you want to be with me, you’ll promise me you are going to eat and that you’ll behave in school and listen to what your parents tell you. Is that clear? He pulled back into traffic and headed for Babylon. Jack never told me what to do before. I was afraid he would stop loving me if I didn’t do what he said. I was concerned about getting fat. I thought you like me skinny? I said. He looked over at me, his eyes traveled down my body. You look good now. Stay at this weight.

When we got to the beach, Pam came running out to see me. She’d been crying. I know what my mother told her had upset her. The kids were little then, but they were waiting for me by the door. Lisa wanted me to pick her up. Everyone was kissing me and happy to see me. Pam fixed a great meal, and I ate what she put on my plate. I think it was chicken.

Friday night was game night. We had a routine at Pam’s—games, snacks on the veranda if it was warm enough or in the den by the fireplace. She’d left the den to put the kids to bed, and Jack came to me and whispered, take a shower before you go to bed.

That night he came into my bedroom. He put his hand over my mouth the whole time. My lips were sore and swollen the next morning, and at breakfast, Pam noticed. I told her I bit the inside of my mouth. She asked to look. Jack was watching this from behind the paper. Oh, you cut the inside of your lip! How’d that happen? After you eat, I’ll give you an ice bag for your mouth. The little kids discussed that Aunt Marie had a sore mouth. Jack told them to pipe down and eat their breakfast.

He was playing tennis that day, so Pam and the kids and I baked cookies and played on the beach. She took us to the library in the afternoon, and I got a book called Junior Miss. We came home, and Pam put the kids down for a nap. She made me a nice snack and tucked me in on the couch by the fire, placing an afghan over my lap.

I began to read. As I read, I pretended I was Judy. I didn’t want to put the book down. I wondered if Judy had a handsome uncle who played dirty with her.

Marie’s writing deteriorated, going from careful grammar and penmanship to reading as a teenager would sound when she spoke. As Sandra read, she remembered the timbre of Marie’s voice, her wit and sarcasm, and her bitchiness. At times, she sounded more like a ten-year-old, and then the adult Marie would suddenly reappear. It was very disconcerting. Sandra could see that the adult Marie, the one she knew, was as fragmented a personality as the teen. The idea that no one noticed was preposterous. The people in her life who should have been protecting her either didn’t care or were trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. Was she born this way? Or was she a creation of Jack Smith’s?