Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (25 page)

BOOK: Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four)
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She walked to the bus stop and got on a cross-town bus to go back to her apartment. She wasn’t going to work today, and she certainly wasn’t going back to Tom’s, with his black vinyl chairs and chrome dining set, mother’s leftovers in the fridge.
Advise against another pregnancy
echoed through her head, along with,
I want kids. I want a lot of them.
She would find a reason to reject Tom first, so he couldn’t reject her. Maybe it would be enough that she wanted to get into flannel pajamas and get into her own bed. Unplug the phone, turn her cell off, close the blinds, and sleep. He’d find a reason to get pissed off at her for doing those things. She got to Eighty-Second Street and her pace picked up. She couldn’t wait to get inside. The key was hard to turn again, but she got in. She locked her door and put up the chain. From the hallway she could see out the kitchen window at the empty birdfeeders rocking in the wind. Throwing her purse down, she ran down to the lower level and opened the plastic container of bird seed. She got a scoop of it and went out to the side yard to fill the birdfeeders. Immediately, a black-capped chickadee swooped down and took a seed, looking at her with reproach.

“I’m sorry!” she said to the bird. “Tell your friends to come back, please. It won’t happen again.”

.

34

B
rent went back to school Sunday, leaving his mother in a state of depression. Pam lay in bed Monday morning as the sun started to peek over the tops of the drapes in her bedroom and she wondered why she should get up. What was the point? But after five minutes of self-pity, she pulled herself together and got up for her day. She took her usual extra care with her appearance and noticed that she truly was beginning to look like an “older” person. Well, plastic surgery wasn’t an option. She hated the hospital too much and it would mean more people knowing about her AIDS status.

She was drinking her second cup of coffee when the phone rang. It was Lane, Smith and Romney.

“Mrs. Smith, its Jennifer,” Jack’s secretary said. “I hope this isn’t too early.”

“Not at all, Jennifer! How are you?” Pam said. She’d always liked the young woman, but wondered if her name was among the list of his conquered. She shook her head to clear the thought.

“I’m okay. We really miss your husband around here,” she confided in a whisper. “It’s so boring.”

Pam laughed. “Yes, he knew how to liven up a place, that’s for sure.”

“Anyway, a registered letter came here for Jack late yesterday. It isn’t a business matter; it looks like it’s regarding a piece of rental property he has uptown. Do you want me to fax it to you?”

Pam was confused for a minute. “Is it a storage locker?” she asked.

“No, it looks like either an apartment or retail space off Broadway in the Times Square District. It may be something he was subletting for a client,” she explained. “I’ve checked and there isn’t a key, so maybe he left something there at home.”

Pam thanked her and before they hung up, she could hear the fax machine in the den whirring. She walked in to get the paper, and sure enough it was a rental agreement renewal.
Oh hell
, she thought. She went back into the kitchen to finish her coffee with the rental agreement on the counter in front of her. She read through it and saw a date that took her breath away: 1992. Pam looked at the water and tried to piece time together. What was she doing thirty years ago? She slid off the stool and went into the mudroom to get the keys for which she couldn’t find locks. On his Lexus fob was a gold key with Master Lock stamped on it. She never could figure out what it was for. In September, she’d finally made it to his club to clean out his locker and there was a small plastic box like those used by seamstresses to hold notions, and in the box was another set of keys. Reaching for those as well, she suddenly recognized what could be a safety deposit box key. She’d already cleared out one box they held jointly in Babylon, but this one had a different number on it. Deciding to throw caution to the wind and forget about her pride, she called Jennifer back.

“Jennifer, do you know if Jack used a particular bank in New York for work?” She realized it sounded secretive but that’s all she was going to give up.

“Well, let me think a minute,” she said. “I can’t think of any that he used, but we use Bank of New York for the office. You could try that.” They hung up.

Pam didn’t want to go into Manhattan, but it might be what she needed to avoid sitting around thinking about how she’d destroyed her children’s lives. The phone was still resting against the palm of Pam’s hand when it rung again. This time it was Lisa.

“Mom! Mom, I am so sorry,” she yelled. Pam held the phone from her ear.

“Lisa, are you okay?” Pam asked, ridiculous because it was clear she wasn’t okay, but she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t been in an accident or anything. “Are you in Honolulu?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here, I’m fine. Mom! I’m so sorry about leaving like I did. No matter what happened, I shouldn’t be cruel. Do you forgive me?” Lisa asked.

Pam could hear her sniffing and blubbering. “Of course I do. But do you forgive me? We can’t go back to pretending we had something that didn’t exist,” Pam said.

There was a brief pause. “Did dad give you AIDS?” Lisa finally asked the big question.

“Yes,” Pam answered. “And to Marie, and Sandra, and many other women, I’m afraid. As a matter of fact, I’ve become friends with the people at the New York AIDS Surveillance Task Force.” Pam could hear Lisa crying. “Lisa, if you can possibly manage it, don’t make this about you. Your father was the one with the problems, not you. I didn’t protect my children from information they didn’t need to have.”

“Oh Mom, I’m so sorry! I know you loved Dad! And he told us he loved you, many times. He must have been fucking sick. There is no other explanation,” Lisa said.

Pam was glad she had reached that conclusion already. But she was getting tired and had a trip into the city ahead of her today. “You are so smart, Lisa. You’ll figure this out. I can’t really help you now; unfortunately, it’s your issue to deal with. I have to go into the city today so I better hang up now, but we’ll talk later, okay? Everything will be okay, I promise you.” They spent a few more minutes confirming their love for each other and finally hung up. Talking to Lisa was almost always exhausting.

While she was getting dressed in her “goin’ to town” garb, Pam decided to stop at the mansion to see her mother and sister and mother-in-law while she was in town since her day was already ruined. She was gathering up a bottle of water and putting some cut-up fruit into a baggie to take when the phone rang again. She looked at the caller ID and saw Sandra’s apartment number and answered it right away.
What was she doing there during a work day?

“Hi, I am surprised to see this number,” Pam said.

Without wasting time with small talk, Sandra launched right in. “I know we haven’t had much contact, but boy, do I need your friendship right now. I would love to see you today if I could. I can get on a train and be there by noon if you just say I can,” Sandra said.

Pam paused for just a second; there was no reason on earth that she couldn’t see Sandra unless Tom the Tyrant didn’t want her to.

“I’m coming into town today. It is for a very strange reason; evidently Jack had a rental property in Times Square and the lease is up for renewal.” Pam explained.

“Yes,” Sandra said. “I just dropped in, but am thinking I might stay. Can I see you while you’re here?”

“Do you want to go on an adventure with me? I don’t know why, but I feel like this might be one experience I shouldn’t have alone, and frankly there is no one else who could go with me,” Pam confessed.

“Of course I’ll go with you, but what about Marie?” Sandra asked.

“Marie’s not well. That’s a whole other story. How about I come to your apartment, in say, about two hours? I’m just getting ready to leave now. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad,” Pam said.

“I’m truly sorry about Marie,” Sandra said.

“Yes, well, I’ll tell you about it when I get there. Two hours then?” Pam repeated as she grabbed her keys. They confirmed it and said good-bye. Pam hung the phone up and went through the mudroom to the garage, feeling eager to see Sandra now, her one human contact that wasn’t a needy relative or a guy with a possible agenda.

Sandra’s cell rang and it was Tom. He must have tried her office number first and discovered she wasn’t there; her cell got horrible reception in the office so he rarely called her on it during the day.

“Where are you?” he said when she answered. She explained about the upsetting news from the doctor, although not specifically what the news was, and her need to be in her own space for a while.

He didn’t get it. “I don’t understand why you didn’t call me right away. If you’re upset about something, you should let me have a shot at supporting you,” he said.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything but the news,” she said.

“Okay, what was so bad that you couldn’t go to work?” he challenged.

“Well, I found out the baby tested positive for HIV. It’s not why she died, but it’s not good news. I’m also sicker than I was, which sucks,” she explained.

“Do you have AIDS?” Tom asked quietly.

“No, not yet. But there’s more. The doctor strongly advised me against getting pregnant again. She said it could have devastating results.”
There, let him stew in that for a moment
, she thought.

“Oh boy, that’s awful,” he said. And there was a brief pause. “I’m so sorry Sandra. I see now why you wanted to be alone,” Tom said. There was a longer silence.

“Pam just called. Evidently Marie is ill, so she is coming into the city to see her and asked to see me, as well,” Sandra said. She would give more information to him as he asked for it.

“My radio just went off. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” The phone went dead. Sandra started to laugh. Either his timing was perfect, or the guy was really a prick. She ended the call and went to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes into jeans. It should be an interesting day after all.

Nelda walked up the stairs to the second floor of the mansion for the sixth time that day. She was going to talk to her daughter about getting the elevator repaired the next time she called. She rested at the top of the stairs, more to prepare to enter Marie’s room than to recover from the mount. Marie was propped up in bed, eating Cheez-Its out of the box, and watching Maury Povich.

“Honest to God, can’t you find anything else to watch rather than that horrible man?” Nelda criticized.

“Mother, leave me alone. I vaguely remember you watching
Divorce Court
while you ironed dad’s uniforms. What message did that send?” Marie asked.

Nelda laughed. “Okay, okay, you made your point. At least turn it down, will you? Your sister is coming, by the way. You should get washed up.”

“Pam’s coming? Yippee!!” she exclaimed sarcastically. “Why do I need to change my routine for Pam?” She nestled down further in the bed. Nelda would have to use a crow bar to get her out and into the shower.

“You’re starting to smell. If you don’t care for Steve, at least have mercy on me,” Nelda said as she pulled the covers back. Waif was a word meant for Marie. She was almost invisible lying in bed, a skeleton with breasts. “Come on, your royal highness, you’re getting up now or I will get Ben to pick you up for me. You don’t want him seeing you naked, do you?”

“Yes, actually, get him in here. I need some excitement,” Marie said. But she listened to Nelda and moved her legs over to the side of the bed. She reached up for her mother’s shoulders to pull up on. Nelda helped her walk into the bathroom, overwhelmed with momentary sadness. Marie might be a bitch, but she was still her daughter. What did this mean? Was she dying? The tough questions hadn’t been answered yet. As she helped Marie take off her pajamas, she saw the first evidence of a pregnancy; a low lump between her hip bones. Nelda couldn’t help herself; she placed her hand over the rise on her daughter’s body.

“Little baby, little baby,” she said. “I’m your grandmother.”

Marie giggled. “Yes you are, poor kid,” Marie teased.

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