Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (26 page)

Nelda shook her head in exasperation.

Pam got to Sandra’s right before lunch. She’d see her family later, after the trip to Times Square. When they saw each other, it was like they’d talked to each other every day. Sandra told Pam the news from the doctor, and while she shed tears, Pam held her and consoled her. She told Pam about Tom’s mother and sisters, and father and Gwen, and Pam told Sandra about her new friend, Dave, and the disastrous Thanksgiving Day. She saved the news about Marie for last; her pregnancy and her brain infection. Sandra felt a pang of regret that she wasn’t able to like Marie enough to be happy for her about the baby; it was selfish and Sandra knew it. But she wasn’t jealous. The poor woman had too many problems to be jealous of. What she did feel was sadness for the baby to be born into those circumstances, with an ill, crazy mother and an old father.
Yuck.

“Do you want to drive down to Times Square with me?” Pam asked. “You’re not obligated at all, trust me. I have no idea what I will find once I get there. I may not even be able to get in.” She dangled keys in front of Sandra.

“Look, just for the record, he never took me there,” Sandra confessed. “I don’t want you to get any wrong ideas.”

“It’s too late for that!” Pam exclaimed, laughing. “Let’s go see if Jack can surprise us anymore.” They walked out to Pam’s car together, continuing the conversation about Tom and his family. Pam wasn’t clear yet if Sandra was considering leaving Tom’s apartment or not.

“You could always keep dating Tom and give it some time. If he decides that he has to have kids, then you can say good-bye to him,” Pam said. “Now I am sounding like a mother. Sorry.”

“No, that was good advice. Why do I think it has to be all or nothing? He might dump me, which would be so much easier. Painful, but easy,” Sandra said. As they drove south on Broadway, both women thought of Jack. Finally, they arrived at the right neighborhood and Sandra started looking for the address. Expecting a high-rise, Pam was shocked when they pulled up in front of a four-story, ramshackle, red brick building in a blighted neighborhood. There were a few hints of rehabilitation, but it looked like Jack’s
pied-à-terre
had seen better days.

“Fuck,” said Sandra.

“Yes,” answered Pam, opening her car door to get out for a closer look. She reached into her handbag to pull out the rental agreement and the address matched. “Let’s go see what there is to see,” Pam said. They walked up the steps and looked at the mailboxes.

“J. Lane,” Pam read. “He obviously was using old man Lane’s name, unless this was his place, which I highly doubt.” There was no intercom, so she turned the handle on the door and it opened freely. “Let’s go!” The apartment number was a back unit on the second floor. They walked up the dusty staircase, someone’s TV blasting away. Far in back of the building, they found the door to the apartment, and Pam tried the key. It worked, turning easily, and she pushed the door opened. The apartment was dark and smelled closed in; if it was Jack’s, no one had been there for seven months. Pam tried the lights and they worked. Who’d been paying the Edison bill? They walked through the bare galley kitchen, but did notice what appeared to be a used coffee cup in the sink and trash in a small can by the bathroom. The living room was empty expect for a single chair by a lone window. They walked close together down a dark hallway, stopping at a closed door. Pam looked at Sandra. “I guess I have to open it,” she whispered. The room was pitch black. She reached around to the wall and felt for a switch. Sandra gasped when she was able to see the room, but to Pam it looked like a big shower stall and nothing more. It was covered in subway tile, and had a large, heavy duty hook in the ceiling with some kind of halter attached to it. There was a cot of sorts with a rubbery-looking sheet stretched across it.

“Oh my Jesus Lord,” Sandra said. Pam started to walk into the room but Sandra grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Don’t go in there!” she commanded.

Pam looked confused. “Why? What is this?”

Sandra flipped the switch off and pulled her friend out of the way so she could close the door.

“If this was Jack’s place, he was a sick fuck. Sicker than I thought. Let’s get out of here,” Sandra said.

“Why? What is that room for?” Pam repeated. “I want to at least see the rest of the place.” They walked back to the rear of the apartment where there was another room that may have been intended to be a bedroom. Two king-sized mattresses all but covered the floor and Peg-Board panels on the walls were dotted with hooks from which all kinds of leather and chain paraphernalia were hanging. Pam started to understand when she saw the whips and chains.

“I don’t think I want to see the bathroom,” Sandra said, but Pam ignored her and opened another door leading to the unknown.

“Ugh,” she said. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

“Do we want to take the chance of someone seeing this crap and associating Jack with it?” Sandra asked.

“Ha! I don’t care! Do you?” Pam was clearly upset, not thinking correctly. “What is it for?” she asked yet again.

“Let me think about this for a minute,” Sandra said. “Pam, you don’t want your kids to find out about this. Even truthfulness has its limits.”

Pam looked at her sharply and started laughing. “Who said that?” she asked.

“No one. I did. I mean you can admit things to your kids that will ultimately affect their life, like you being sick, but his fetishes won’t make any difference to them. I have to tell you, this shocks me. It’s like the homosexual thing. I had to idea! None. He never suggested anything that even hinted at this sort of interest,” Sandra confided.

Pam looked back to the rear of the apartment. “What the hell is that tiled room used for, and I know you know, so don’t lie to me,” she said.

Sandra shook her head. “It’s one of those things that you know exists because you hear of such things, but to really see it…well, I am still shocked,” she said.

“Tell me!” Pam insisted, getting up into Sandra’s face. She was like a wild woman. “What was he up to?”

“You know what all those leather things are in there, the junk hanging on the wall, right?” Sandra asked. She was embarrassed to even say their names.

“I think so. S and M stuff. Whips and dogs collars.”
Jack! You lunatic!
“But what was the tile room? Did he hang people there and whip them? I hope he didn’t kill anyone,” she whispered.

“Okay Pam, listen to me, because I don’t even want to have to say this once let alone repeat it. People pee on each other in a room like that, pee or worse. Do you get it? It’s an aberration is what it is. Gross! I am so disgusted that I ever got involved with a pig like that! Oh God!” Sandra screamed and completely broke down in front of Pam.

Pam embraced her, supporting her so she wouldn’t fall over. It was a shock to both of them; he wasn’t normal, at least not to the women and their delicate sensibilities. That was true. Sandra thought in her moment of anguish,
He wasn’t just an infidel who got AIDS from one of his conquests; he was a pervert who spent money having a special room installed in a derelict apartment so he could pee on someone, or worse, have people pee on him.

“Let’s get out of here, okay?” Pam demanded.

But Sandra was thinking about Pam’s children again, and worse, the company that he helped found. This sort of garbage could ruin a business.

“We need to bag this shit up and get it in the trash somehow. Not until then can you relinquish the apartment. Who’s been paying the rent, anyway?” Sandra asked, knowing that Pam didn’t know.
Maybe his lawyer?
They were standing in the living room arguing about what they should do next when they heard a key in the door. They froze while someone turned the key and door opened. A pretty blonde woman, not expecting to see anyone standing there, screamed bloody murder.

“Who are you?” the woman screamed. “What do you want?”

Pam went to her and grabbed her arm; so like Pam, Sandra thought, remembering the first time they met in the hospital corridor. “Miss, please don’t yell. I’m Pam Smith and this is Sandra Benson. This is evidently my late husband’s apartment. Can you tell me who you are?”

The young woman looked from Pam to Sandra and with her hands up to her face, started crying.

“I have a client coming here in ten minutes. You have to leave. I’ve been paying the rent on this place since Jack died.” She dug through her bag and gave Pam a business card. “Call me tonight after ten. But please, please get out. You have to leave, I beg you!” She hustled the women out to the hallway and slammed and locked the door. Sandra led the way, running down the steps with Pam following, both of them on the verge of hysteria. They got into Pam’s car and she started it, grinding the starter after the engine caught, and took off, laying a little rubber in the street.

“Oh my God! That wasn’t Jack’s stuff in there after all, it was the woman’s!” Pam yelled. And then she started to laugh like a crazy woman. “Yeah, right! But that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it,” she said. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Let’s go see your sister and get that over with, okay? If I stop now, I’ll never get started again,” Sandra said.

“You want to go to the mansion to see those crazy women after that fiasco? No fucking way!” Pam yelled. Traffic was getting heavy with lunch being over and she didn’t want to get stuck near the park, so she pulled over. She looked straight ahead for a while. Every so often she’d shake her head.

“I swear to you, I had no idea. None. He never, ever suggested the slightest bit of perversion. He was almost boring, he was so conventional. I mean, I was a virgin on our wedding night because Jack wouldn’t sleep with me! How in God’s name would I ever,
ever
know he was into anything so totally repulsive? There was a man at our wedding; he stood up for Jack, an Ashton Hageman. Did you meet him?” Pam asked.

Sandra shook her head no. “Well, he came to see me a few months ago, admitted he and Jack had been lovers since grade school. He told me Jack always wanted to get married because he wanted a ‘normal life’ after the horrible childhood he’d had. Those were the words the man used. Normal. Now I find out my husband may have been peeing on other people.” She let out a burst of laughter. “There can be nothing more that will hurt me or surprise me now. I didn’t tell you about my children.” Pam looked at Sandra at this juncture. Was she unloading unfairly on this young woman? Or were they friends again? “So are we going to be friends now? Because I am about to tell something that is probably the most hurtful about all of this.”

Sandra nodded yes, unable to speak for fear she would weep again, and she’d had enough of that. “My kids knew about Jack and Marie and never told me because they were afraid it would hurt me too much. Lisa said she knew from the time she was ‘little’ that Marie was after her father, and that Jack spent nights with Marie in her room. My little kids knew it but I didn’t. You can stay as detached as is humanly possible if you want, and I proved it. My life is the evidence.”

They sat in silence for ten minutes or more. There was a woman in a rundown Times Square apartment who, at that moment, was performing sexual acts for money. It occurred to Pam that she would be called a prostitute. She referred to Jack by name. Was she Jack’s hooker? Pam snickered out loud unintentionally.

“That woman was a hooker,” Pam said. Jack was using a hooker.
Oh my God.
She started the car up again. “Let’s go to my mother-in-law’s and get it over with, like you said.” They drove the rest of the way uptown in silence.

“I’m not going back to Tom’s. We can date, like you said. But I want to be alone for a while. I have to process this new information. Can you take me to Brooklyn first, to get my stuff from Tom’s apartment?” Sandra said. She turned to look at Pam. “I’m sorry I hurt you, my friend.”

Pam smiled at her in return. She’d take it under consideration. She’d missed Sandra, missed having a girlfriend to hash things out with. Now that an apology had been issued, what was keeping Pam from accepting it? It was all she had expected.

.

35

A
shton took extra care with his appearance for Dale’s funeral. He got a haircut and a manicure on Monday, was careful not to cut himself shaving, and chose his favorite Mark Jacobs suit. His shirt was such a pale blue that it appeared blindingly white with a dark gray tie. He stopped to get his shoes shined on the way; he was going to walk to the funeral home. When he got there, Ted’s parents were greeting people. They’d flown in from Florida. It was an open casket; Dale wore a Chanel suit; pink with black trim, her favorite. Ted was standing off to the side talking to a beautiful brunette woman in her late thirties or early forties. But when he saw Ashton, he left her and rushed over to him and embraced him with a hug.

“Oh, I am
so
glad you came. Sorry I didn’t get to call you all weekend; my parents got here Thursday night and are staying at my place; Dale’s was too difficult for them to navigate. Her aura just permeates it.”

Ashton hadn’t heard the word “aura” since 1970, but it did make him smile. Dale’s place
was
filled with her aura. “How long will they be in town? I imagine there will be a lot of legal stuff to do. What are you going to do about her apartment?” Ashton asked.