Soulmates

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “That’s hard at any age. My parents died when I was just out of college. It was difficult because I didn’t have anyone to guide me. Being completely on your own must be rough.”

  “I manage.”

  “When you say you’re well paid, what does that mean?” He told her how much money he made, the amount shocking her; these well-heeled boat owners working him around the clock and he was barely making enough to pay his rent. No wonder he lived in such a dump.

  Sandra was getting comfortable with Pete. When Jason’s boat came out of the water that October, she’d make excuses about not spending time with him and stay at Pete’s instead. Weekends in Philadelphia became the norm for her, a reason to get through the week with something to look forward to.

  Finally, it came to a head the rainy Sunday afternoon after the wedding fiasco. Barely able to tolerate Jason’s self-pity now that he was available, Sandra was hoping to ease out of their relationship. She’d gone into Babylon with him on Saturday afternoon, waiting at Jeff Babcock’s while Jason went next door to talk to Pam. He came back in the throws of depression, alternately crying and drinking heavily. Sandra couldn’t take it anymore, leaving by nine the next morning, getting the train into Philly to be with Pete instead.

  She lay in bed, curled up next to Pete, guilty about leaving Brent with Valarie for yet another weekend. After Jason wasting her time, things needed a little shaking up. Sandra and Pete couldn’t go on as they were much longer because there was no future for either of them. She eased him back into talking about what his next step in life would be.

  “No step,” he said, yawning. “I like things the way they are.”

  “Well, I don’t. We aren’t going anywhere,” she said, fighting to keep the whine out of her voice.

  “Just enjoy what we have,” he replied. “Why do we have to go anywhere? You already have a life and family and I don’t want either.”

  “You need to go back to school,” she said firmly when he admitted he was content to let things go as they were.

  “Ha, Mom!” he yelled, provoked. “Haven’t you listened to me? How the hell do you suggest I do that? I’ve used up my three wishes.”

  “I’ll lend you the money,” Sandra said.

  “Now you’re the delusional one. I’m not taking your money.” Pete shook his head, pulling away from her and getting out of bed, his young naked body beautiful. Feeling like a child abuser, she watched him moving unselfconsciously around the room as only the very young can, pulling on sweat pants and a t-shirt, apparently angry.

  “I’m sorry, Pete. I’ve offended you.”

  “You better leave,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed.

  “Really?” Sandra was embarrassed and hurt. “I didn’t mean to patronize you. I just want to help you because I like you.” He laughed out loud again.

  “You people all think alike,” Pete said. “I’ve never been invited to your fancy place in Brooklyn and I’m not good enough to meet your son. Maybe someday you’ll get it through your head we all don’t go to college, and we all don’t want families and responsibilities.”

  “What about us?” she asked pointing back and forth between the two of them. She already knew the answer. He was a sex object to her, nothing more than a piece of ass. Jason wasn’t pressuring her for sex because Pam must have told him she was HIV positive. There could be no other explanation. And now, a twenty-three-year old dock boy was throwing her out of his horrible apartment because she offered him a chance of a lifetime.

  “Don’t answer,” she said, getting up, gathering her things, the need to get out of his apartment one of urgency. Although she never had the feeling Pete was threatening her, a sense of foreboding was growing. She didn’t primp or waste any time, leaving without further discussion. She called for a car when there was no taxi available, and in the short time she waited on the street near his apartment, Jason’s son Aaron, the drug addicted one, drove by and saw her standing there.

  The weeks before the wedding, Jason spent more time with Pam and less with Sandra, whose days with him were numbered. After the wedding debacle and Pam was out of the picture, Jason pressured Sandra for more of her time, emailing and texting continuously that week, crying onto her answering machine. He disguised his voice, giving fictitious names to the receptionist at Lang, Smith and Romney, hoping she’d put him through. It worked once.

  “Mr. Vegas on line one,” the receptionist Alison said.

  “Mr. Vegas? Who’s he? Take a message, Al,” Sandra said, hanging up. In seconds, the phone buzzed again.

  “Miss Benson, Mr. Vegas says it’s urgent. Something about property taxes,” Sandra frowned, thinking.

  “Okay, I’ll take it then,” she said, curious since Pam paid the real estate taxes on her house. She pushed a button and heard laughter.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Sandra, it's Jay. Please don’t hang up.”

  “This will be the last time, do you understand me?”

  “I get that you won’t see me again, is that correct?”

  “Yes. We are through; whatever that weirdness was is over. I’m so angry at you for doing what you did to Pam.”

  “What I did? You are joking,” he replied.

  “Yes, what you did, Jason. Leaving her at the altar was next to unforgivable. I don’t want you to call me again understand? You’re behavior’s beginning to border on harassment.”

  “Why’d you leave Jeff’s on Saturday? First Natalie disappeared and then you were nowhere to be found.”

  “You were all so drunk, what difference did it make?”

  “The difference is that now we don’t need to hide our friendship,” he replied. Sandra snorted loudly.

  “Is that what it is? Well, I have news for you, Jason. I want a divorce.” With that, she banged the phone down.

  Monday morning, sitting at the kitchen counter, Jason could see the river swiftly moving past the dock, a freighter pulling out of the pier across the way in Camden. His boat had been in the water now for over a month and because of preparations for the wedding, she’d hardly been away from the dock. He would take care of that oversight soon, but not yet; not when he was unable to focus on navigating. Boating on the Delaware took skill and concentration; there were hazards floating under the surface, old pilings and logs, things that could poke a hole into the hull, and the currents were swift and strong. He’d wait for a few more days.

  “What’s for breakfast?” Aaron came in from the apartment, looking for food.

  “I don’t know,” Jason muttered. “Let’s go to the diner.”

  “I can’t,” Aaron said, smiling. “I’ve got a job interview.” Jason whipped around quickly to look at his handsome son. He was freshly shaven, had on a clean white shirt and tie, neat trousers, polished shoes.

  “Wow, I wish Mom could see you now,” Jason said choked up. Aaron went to his father, putting his arm around his shoulders.

  “Thanks for sticking by me, Dad. I know I’m not out of the woods yet, but I want to work. What’s going on with you? Still suffering from guilt?”

  “Is that what it is?” Jason asked, frowning. “No, I was just shut down by Sandra. I thought we could take our relationship to the next level…”

  “Dad, let me stop you right there. I almost forgot to tell you. Guess who I saw waiting outside of Petey Porter’s crappy apartment building last night?”

  Jason pulled back from Aaron and frowning, looked up at him. “Who? The cops?”

  “No. Sandra Benson. I almost stopped to ask what the hell she was doing in that neighborhood after dark, but I was with a group and I wasn’t driving.”

  “I feel like someone just threw a bucket of hot shit at me,” Jason said.

  “Yeah, well I’m sorry it was me,” Aaron replied. “I’ve got to run. But I’d look into it if I were you.”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m going to.” Jason got up from the stool after Aaron left, running the water to make more coffee. Several things came i
nto his head that may have been unrelated, but now that he had Aaron’s latest information, he could see he’d ignored some incidents. About two weeks after they’d started going out on the boat every weekend, Sandra made the excuse to leave after breakfast on Sunday, saying she needed to get home to Brent. But when Jason tried to call her later in the day, her phone was always shut off. At the same time, Pete asked for Sunday afternoon off. The community dock had to give it to him; he was available to them twenty-four/seven.

  Just then, Pete came into view, dragging a hose behind him. He was going to scrub down Emily’s Paycheck. Jason watched him work the way he watched Sandra pose, with the eye of an artist. There was no mistake that Pete a specimen. He was young; who didn’t look great in their youth? Without provocation, the image of Pete naked, on top of Sandra popped into his head. Slowly, rage burned inside his brain. The physical rush was complete, heat through his body, sweat on his upper lip, finally his bowels rumbling so that he’d have to run to the toilet. Little Pete’s ass was just saved by my stomach, he thought.

  Pete was standing on the swim platform, scrubbing the port side of the boat when Jason came out to find him. Watching for a few moments, Jason weighed the options between getting revenge on Pete if what Aaron said was true, or letting it go because he was the best dock boy they’d had in all the years he lived in Philadelphia.

  “Hey, Pete,” Jason called. Pulling the long handled brush back on the platform, Pete unhesitantly hopped up on the dock and skipped over to Jason with his hand extended.

  “Taking her out today, sir? It’s swift, but the reports are good from here to the Chesapeake.”

  “No, not today, Pete. Maybe Wednesday. I’ll let you know, I could use a deck hand if I do.”

  “Okay, sir, I’d be delighted.” He stood close, smiling, not a hint of deceit. He was an adroit liar, and although Jason bristled that Pete couldn’t be trusted, it was a small black mark against an excellent boatman.”

  “Great,” Jason replied, turning back to the house. “Oh Pete, by the way.”

  “Yes sir?” They faced each other friendly, nothing at all adversarial about the confrontation.

  “Sandra has HIV. I’d get yourself tested if I were you.” Jason stood close by, watching the color drain from Pete’s face. Later, Jason had to hand it to him; he never flinched, never got defensive, but there were definitely fear there, whether from AIDS or losing his job, Jason would never know because they never mentioned it again.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, waiting for Jason to leave again before he got back on board. Drinking coffee at the riverside window all morning, Jason watched Pete finish the best wash job Emily’s Paycheck ever got.

  Chapter 8

  The week after Jason left Pam standing at the altar was one of new beginnings for many people. On Thursday, John Zapelli picked Pam up at her beach house in his shiny new truck and drove her around to all the great kitchen showrooms on the island. Since no one was waiting at home, she didn’t worry about how long she was away. It was refreshing and freeing, reminiscent of what life was like after Jack died. The callous way she thought his death that it had freed her from restriction, saddened her. It was an awful time, but reflecting over it now years later, she realized there was a plus side to it.

  Only once that day she thought about Lisa, hoping since Cara had left prison they were okay. The rest of the time, she enjoyed John’s company. They chatted about kitchen design and new products, and then Pam opened up to him.

  “This is a sort of fantasy of mine,” she said, looking out the window as he drove.

  “Is that right? Good or bad?”

  “Oh, it’s very good. In my fantasy, I am in a utility vehicle, similar to this and I’m with a companion who shares my love of gardening. We walk through the garden centers, taking our time, planning where we’ll put plants and trees.”

  “Have you had anything come close?” Pam looked at him, at his strong profile as he looked straight ahead.

  “Just once. I thought something might come of it, but it fell flat.” She laughed out loud. “Oh boy, I hope you don’t feel like I’m putting any pressure on you to take me to Garden World.”

  “Not at all,” he said, chuckling. They came to a red light and he looked over at Pam. She looked sad. Feeling badly for her, he wondered if something was happening between them that would amount to anything, or if it would just be a kitchen remodel. “I guess if that’s the worst proposition I get today, I am a really lucky man.”

  “Oh! I’m so embarrassed,” she said, flushing and laughing. A young woman driving alongside John’s truck saw the attractive older couple enjoying their trip.

  Looking over, watching, she sighed. “I hope I can have a relationship like that someday,” Becky Morgan said to her companion.

  “Like what?”

  “Look at this couple next to us. They’re talking and laughing, you can tell they are having a good time.” Her companion struggled to lean forward to see what her friend was talking about it. It took a few seconds for it to register.

  “That’s my father!” Violet said. “Honest to God, all the single, middle-aged women in Babylon and he ends up taking Pamela Smith to Ferry Stone.”

  “No way! Is that who it is? I can’t see the guy.”

  “She looks like hell, too,” Violet replied.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised after what she’s been through. After Brent being murdered and all.”

  “I heard she had AIDS,” Violet said with a sneer.

  “That’s what they say, but I think they’re jealous of her.”

  “Jealous of what? Her husband was into S & M, her son was just as bad, and I’ve heard he raped some middle-aged Brooklyn woman and she has his baby now.”

  “Ha! Violet, you read too many tabloids.”

  “‘There’s a grain of truth in every story.’”

  “Is your dad dating Mrs. Smith?”

  “No!” Violet shouted. “He’s redoing her kitchen. They do look like they’re having a good time.”

  “I hope I have that someday,” she repeated.

  “You will,” Violet said softly. “I doubt if I will.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I just don’t think it’s for me, that’s all. Seeing what my dad went through when my mother left put me off marriage. My sister is married and she looks miserable to me. Where are the happy marriages?”

  “My mom and dad have been together for thirty-five years. They still kiss each other goodbye before one of them leaves the house.”

  “Look, they’re pulling into that diner. What the hell? He’s taking her to lunch?”

  “Vi, chill out, will you? They’ve gotta eat.”

  “Pull in, pull in! I want to follow them,” Violet shrieked.

  “You’re nuts,” Becky said, but she complied. It was her favorite diner. “We can always have lunch.” Violet didn’t reply, watching her father pull the truck into a parking spot, turning to Pam as they continued talking for another five minutes.

  “What could they possibly have to say to each other for all this time?”

  “I don’t feel right about following them inside,” Becky said, starting her car up again. “You can confront him on your own.”

  “Thanks, you’re a real friend.”

  “I’m just not in the mood for a scene, and you’re acting so strange right now, I’m going to take the initiative to protect your dad.” Violet laughed and shook her head.

  “Drama queen,” she said.

  “Me? You better point that finger at yourself, my friend,” Becky said. While they drove away, Pam and John got out of his truck and walked into the diner together.

  “This is so strange,” he said.

  “Why? Don’t you like it here?”

  “No, nothing like that. I haven’t been to lunch with a woman since my divorce.”

  “Oh,” Pam said, sympathetically. “It’s hard the first few times. I know. Just pretend it’s what it is; a business luncheon. We
are going to discuss my kitchen. You can even take it off as a business expense on your income tax.”

  “Wait, I thought you were paying,” he said laughing.

  “No, I’m on a fixed income,” but Pam laughed. “It’s strange for me too, being here for lunch with you. Can I tell you why?”

  “Sure. I’m all ears.”

  “I was supposed to get married on Saturday but my fiancé that was stood me up.” The hostess came by with menus and led them to a booth. John was glad for the interruption; he had more time to think of what to say to such a startling revelation. Even though Violet just told him about it, he didn’t think Pam would mention it so soon. They slid in across from each other and John hesitated. He decided to be honest.

  “I don’t know what to say to you. It is so awful, so disrespectful. You seem okay in spite of it.”

  “Oh, I’m fine, I truly am. I made the decision yesterday while I was on the beach before you came over, in fact, that I would forgive him. I don’t love him, and he apparently didn’t love me, and I’m actually grateful we aren’t stuck in a marriage neither of us wanted.” Pam looked out the window at the sunny sky, traffic heavy on the cracked asphalt road, the light glinting off the gravel and broken glass in the parking lot. The view depressed her; it was made of childhood memories and past disappointments. She turned her head and seeing handsome, rugged John looking so protective of her, worried about her stole the power her memories had to make her unhappy. It was a turning point in her life.

  “Tell me about you,” she asked. “I feel like there is something brewing in your life, too.” He nodded at her.

  “You’re very observant,” he said. “My ex-wife is getting married on Saturday. My daughter just told me, but I’ve known it was coming. You might know about him; Mark Carrier. He’s acting mayor in Jamesville now. Cassandra met him shooting craps in Atlantic City. Leave it to her to meet the worst shmuck. Out of all the addicted gamblers she could have met, she hooks up with the one who is under suspicion of fraud.”