Tom excused himself and left the veranda to go make a call.
Sandra grasped the opportunity to talk to Pam alone. “We have to talk about something Bill said about Jack, but I don’t want to do it with Tom here, okay? May I call you later, when I’m alone?”
Pam nodded her head yes.
Then they heard a call from the beach, out of sight because of the dunes. It was Jeff.
“Oh shit,” Marie said. Sandra looked at her questioningly, but Marie ignored it.
“Hello, my favorite diners! I’m here to rescue you from starvation!” Jeff was loaded down with boxes; Tom was helping him by carrying what appeared to be a huge chafing dish. Jeff was behaving in a most flamboyant manner, too, completely infuriating her.
Why’d he wait until now to reveal this side of himself?
Even though it was over, she discovered that she was more than a little disappointed. He had lied to her. Her heart
had started to reach out to him, and now there was nothing there for her. She was longing for intimacy. She wanted to lie next to a naked man again, have him lust after her body, react to her sexuality by getting an erection, and saying he wanted her. And she remembered that, even before she knew Jeff was gay, there was zero chemistry between them. He didn’t appeal to her. But someone did, someone who was interested in her, who had frightened her with his willingness to lose his job, or at least put it in jeopardy in his pursuit of her. She would think about him for the rest of the evening.
D
inner was nice, the food very good and company interesting. Jeff refused all offers of help cleaning up. By 10 p.m., Pam had had it. She didn’t even put up a fuss when Marie announced she was leaving, too. She had too much to do in the city to stay; she would be right behind Tom and Sandra. Jeff lingered until Pam told him she was exhausted and asked him if he would excuse her if she went to bed.
“Heavens no! You go. I am going to clean up here and will let myself out. Is that okay with you? I am driving up to Rhinebeck in the morning and like to have all loose ends tied up when I go.”
They hugged, and she retreated to her bedroom, not caring that she was leaving a relative stranger in her house while she slept. Just able to get her makeup off and her pj’s on, she fell into bed and was fast asleep by 10:30.
Marie drove like a maniac and was back in the city, in her own neighborhood, before midnight. She left her car on the street and went into the same bar where she saw Steve Marks the day before, threatening him with the police if he bothered her again. He was sitting at the bar. Not seeing her until she was seated in the back again, at the same table where she drank her wine, it took a few seconds for him to recognize her. She had on a halter top and
shorts, her body lean and fit for a woman her age. She had no makeup on, and you could tell she had been out in the sun; there was the slightest red on her cheeks, and white shown where her sunglasses had rested on her face. He slid off his bar stool and made his way in the back to her, smiling as he approached her table. Marie slid farther over in the booth, making room for him to slide in next to her so they could be seated together, both looking out.
He came close and put his arm across the back of the bench. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he said. But he was smiling at her. His aftershave was a light, herbal scent of something expensive. His clothes were impeccable for a summer weekend night. He leaned in to kiss her, and she smelled peppermint candy on his breath. His lips were soft, and she could feel a slight picker from his beard. The tension on her mouth from his traveled down her neck, through her shoulders, erecting her nipples, and then straight to her crotch. He didn’t open his mouth; it was a friendly kiss, a respectful kiss, one that was asking if there would be more if he played his cards right.
“You know where I live. Meet me there in twenty minutes.” She slid out the other side of the booth, and when she stood up and turned to look at him, he was smiling up at her. She found herself wondering if he had an erection already or if he would pop a Viagra in his mouth on the way to her apartment.
What difference did it make?
She desperately wanted him to fuck her. She stood up straight as she walked out of the bar, knowing he was looking at her.
After she put her car in the garage, she went up to her apartment to take a quick shower and straighten her bedroom up a little bit. Her sheets hadn’t been changed
since she spent the weekend in Rhinebeck, but that was barely a week ago. She used soap that smelled like roses; Jack used to buy it for her and then make her wash with it before they made love. Pam used it, too, so she wouldn’t get suspicious if he came home smelling of roses. Tonight, it would make no difference what she smelled of.
Is Steve Marks married?
She didn’t know if she cared yet. This was nothing more than a one-night stand; if it evolved into more, then she would ask those important questions.
Putting on Jack’s favorite robe, she thought maybe Steve would like it, too. It was a royal-blue silk kimono, short and secured loosely with a tie belt. She was naked under it. Examining her body in the mirror, she still looked young, her stomach as flat as a board and her breasts high and firm. She didn’t look forty-five. She would flaunt it tonight.
The buzzer went off. She unlocked the door without speaking into the intercom. A minute later, there was a soft tap at the door. She looked through the peephole and unlocked the door to let him in. She had a moment of fear.
What if he’s a murderer?
No one knew she was with him.
He walked in and, without a word, closed the door and gently pulled her to him. If he was a killer, she would soon find out. It was a risk she was willing to take because, tonight, she needed to be loved.
S
unday in Manhattan. Sunday brunch was a tradition on the Upper West Side. There were at least twenty restaurants that served brunch uptown. Sandra’s favorite was Chantal’s, not just because it was the last place that she and Jack went together, but because they had fabulous pancakes. And she was ravenous for pancakes.
Tom spent the night, once again sleeping on the couch downstairs. Sandra was a little disappointed that he didn’t stay upstairs with her, but he seemed reluctant. She was more than willing to make love to him, even making a suggestive move toward his crotch, but he backed off without saying anything. The temptation to read more into it than she should loomed large.
Is he not interested in sex with me? Or does he want to take more time before we make love?
It had only been a week! So she kissed him goodnight and allowed him to tuck her in.
She woke up shortly after 8:00, and not hearing any noise coming from the lower level, she tiptoed down the stairs to see if he was still sleeping. She was shocked to see that he wasn’t there, and it didn’t look like the couch had been slept on. The sheets were neatly made up. If he had slept there, he would have unmade the couch and folded the sheets up. She looked around, checking the bathroom. Nothing. She went back upstairs and found the note he had left her on the dining table. She sat down and, with
trembling hands, unfolded the Dear Jane letter that Tom Adams had left for her:
Dear Sandra
,
I’m sorry I didn’t discuss my intentions with you last night. The timing just wasn’t right. I wanted you to get some sleep, and what I had to say could wait until the morning. I knew while we were at your friend’s house that I had made rash decisions about our future without knowing all the facts
.
First of all, I can hardly expect you to relinquish your past to be in a relationship with me. In order for me to adopt your baby and raise him as my own child, I would want to do just that. The life I had envisioned for us isn’t realistic. That guy you were involved with seems to have drawn you and those sisters together pretty tightly. There seems to be bond between the three of you that I don’t have the energy or the desire to circumvent
.
Secondly, although you were honest with me about your relationship with your lover’s wife, it doesn’t change the fact that she was still married to him when you were sleeping with him. I guess the impact of the deception didn’t hit me until I saw you with his wife today
.
I must have been awfully naive to think I could come in and make you forget your past completely. Your future will be tied up in the lives of your lover’s family, and I don’t have any desire to be involved with them myself
.
What I am trying to say is that I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I am sorry that I pushed so much on you so quickly. And I swear it doesn’t have anything to do with your health concerns
.
Good luck! You’re a fabulous woman!
Tom Adams
“Huh?” Sandra said out loud. She looked out the window at the birdfeeders. They needed filling before she went for her own breakfast. Restraining herself from tearing the letter up into little pieces, she folded it back up and stuffed it into her purse. Then she went to her closet to get the white sundress she had worn the last time she was with Jack. She was taking herself out to brunch.
B
ernice Smith was still in bed on Sunday morning when she heard a knock at her bedroom door. She struggled to get up, yelling out, “Come in.”
It was Mildred. She had morning coffee and a light breakfast.
“What’s this all about, Millie?” she asked.
“Miss Pam called this morning, madam. She said to tell you she was on her way to take you to brunch. She said she won’t take no for an answer.”
Bernice frowned. “Oh, what does she want to do that for?” she asked petulantly. “I don’t want to see Pam!”
Mildred ignored her, pulling a small table up to the bedside and placing the tray there. She helped Bernice swing her legs over the side of the bed so she could eat something. Pam wouldn’t be there until 11:00. Bernice had lost so much weight that the staff was alarmed. They made it a point now to cook and serve her something to eat at least four times a day, whether she asked for it or not.
“The coffee smells so good this morning, doesn’t it? I’m tempted to have a cup with you,” Mildred said. “Here’s a nice muffin Alice made just for you.”
Since Bill had been taken back to prison last week, Bernice had deteriorated further. Mildred called Pam in the morning to warn her; she was concerned that the doctor should be called on Monday morning. Bernice sipped
the coffee and took the piece of muffin Mildred had buttered for her. She slowly came around, the friendly Bernice replacing the whiney, crabby Bernice. They would juxtapose throughout the day.
“When you are done eating, you need to have your shower and get dressed for the day. Where do you think Pam is taking you?”
“How should I know? I’ve haven’t been to brunch with Pam since Lisa was a baby and they moved out to the island.” She chewed the muffin slowly, closing her eyes and savoring it. “This is so good. What is that flavor?”
“I think she used nutmeg in this batch. The whole kitchen smelled fragrant this morning. There is nothing like fresh muffins for breakfast.” Mildred went to the closet and got out clean clothing for her employer, who could no longer be trusted to notice when what she was wearing was dirty. The phone began ringing. Mildred walked over to the night table and picked up Bernice’s phone. “Smith residence,” she said. “Yes, she’s awake. Who’s speaking, please? One moment.” Mildred stretched the phone cord to reach Bernice. “It’s Miss Sandra, madam.”
Bernice’s countenance completely changed. She almost bounced up and down on the edge of the bed. She had forgotten that it was because of Sandra that her only surviving son was in prison for twenty years. “Sandra, my dear! How are you? I am so glad you called,” Bernice gushed. Then, “Well, actually, Pam is on her way over to take me to brunch. Would you like to join us? Oh, I’m sure it would be okay with Pam!” Bernice looked at Mildred with lowered eyebrows and mouthed,
Goddamned Pam
. She listened some more and then said, “Well, okay, Sandra,
I’ll tell her to call you as soon as she gets here. I miss you! Good-bye.” She gave the phone to Mildred. “She’s going to brunch alone, but needs to talk to Pam. Humph! I would have thought she would attempt to come and see me! Oh well, I can’t expect everything to go my way, now can I?” She pushed the table away and stood up on unsteady feet. “I want a shower now. I think I can manage alone this morning, Mildred.”
Mildred, however, was not going anywhere. History had proven that the old lady might forget what she was doing and never make it to the shower. No, Mildred would stay close by. Ben would get the door if Miss Pam showed up early.
Bernice struggled to get bathed and dressed without help, but she accomplished it and looked a little like her old, self-assured self. But it would not be enough to fool Pam, who was stunned at the transformation of her mother-in-law from a formidable, dignified woman to an old, stooped hag. The years of alcohol, of denial and pain, were clearly written all over Bernice’s face. It had finally caught up with her.
Is it inevitable that our sins will be revealed?
Pam thought. A person may not admit them out loud, or even to themselves privately, but they will not be denied. The life you live will show on your face and body eventually. Here was a woman who had, if the stories her son told were true, been drunk every night of her children’s youth to escape the acts of depravity being committed right under her nose. She had turned the other cheek when her husband chose the bed of her sons rather than her own and then allowed him back when the boys were old enough to repel their father’s advances.