Soulmates

by Suzanne Jenkins

  His neighborhood was entirely different from Pam’s street. Although he was on a canal, the houses in this part of town were close together and without the beach. He had a short lawn in back and dock, a place to tie up a boat. After Cassandra left him , he got rid of the boat. She was the boater anyway not him. She loved the water and wanted to be out in the sun, putting the anchor down by other partying boaters. It was the last thing he wanted to do on a Sunday afternoon.

  Letting himself in through the garage, he prayed Violet was in bed. Dreading a third-degree interrogation, John felt like a prisoner in his own home. The eerie light from the TV came through the kitchen from the den as he carefully hung his keys up on a rack by the door, trying not to make a peep.

  “Dad is that you?”

  Discovered, John sighed. “Yep, it’s me,” he said, walking through to the den. Violet was wearing a voluminous nightgown with a bowl of popcorn on her lap watching something in black and white.

  “Betty Davis,” she said, nodding toward the TV. “Popcorn?”

  “I’d love some,” John said, sitting down beside her. “What’d you do after lunch?”

  “Nothing much, came home and vegged. I was mad at you for leaving me here alone, but I guess now that Pam is in the picture I’d better get used to it.”

  “I thought you had an important paper due this week,” John said, reaching for more popcorn.

  “I’ll get around to it. I can get an extension if I need to.”

  “Vi, I thought your goal was to get school over with as soon as possible so you can job hunt again.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me? Boy, things sure do change when another woman is involved. We just had the conversation less than a week ago and you were in no hurry for me to move out, and now Pam comes on the scene and I feel pressured.”

  “I’m not going to deny it. I haven’t felt ready to move on and now I do. I’m sorry.” Violet stayed silent, stewing. What would this mean for her if John and Pam were serious?

  “Well, it’s your life,” she said. “But of all the women you could have gotten involved with, why you chose someone with her history makes me think you’re trying to get revenge for Mom getting married again.”

  John got off the couch. “That’s low, Vi.” Leaving the room, he wished he’d dealt with her a long time ago, insisting that she get a life. Violet was just odd.

  The fight between Cassandra and John about Violet’s personality disorder was ongoing and repetitive; they had a kid together who was sick, but who would refuse help. Now, John was in bondage to her. There wasn’t going to be any invitations for Violet to move into Mark Carrier’s mansion in Jamesville. Until she finished a degree she didn’t need and was hell bent on getting, Violet and John would be housemates. It was a topic he didn’t feel ready to share with Pam.

  ***

  Pete Porter, dock boy to a group of rich, spoiled professionals in Philadelphia, found the correct train that would get him to Manhattan. Once he arrived, he’d have to catch a subway to Brooklyn. He wanted to confront Sandra face to face, but she wouldn’t take his phone calls, let alone meet up with him. Finding her address had been no easy task. He’d spent hours online searching, but Sandra had stayed off the radar and he couldn’t find a thing.

  In the haste to leave for Delaware after Jason’s accident, Jane left the door to the basement of the house unlocked. Pete was on the dock, looking over his shoulder the day she left. Neighbors from up and down the dock met at the Bridge’s house to talk about the tragedy all weekend long. On Monday when they went back to work, he made his move. Making sure no one was around watching him, Pete slowly opened the door. It was dark and cold inside, the air conditioner hummed in the background. A flight of stairs led down a paneled hallway to the subterranean rooms. Looking up, he saw another flight leading to the kitchen, which stretched across the back of the house. Searching through stacks of paper next to the phone, Pete didn’t find an address book. For such a big fancy house, even Pete the slob was confused by the outdated kitchen, its piles of clutter on the counters, stacks of newspaper on the floor. Going down a narrow hall, he glanced left and right at cluttered rooms; boxes stacked, bookcases with books awry, a bathroom and laundry, piles of dirty clothes waiting to be washed. Finally, a room resembling an office, with framed diplomas and certificates a doctor would have.

  “What a waste,” Pete said out loud. “Lot of good all that work is doing him now.” He started to rifle through Jason’s personal belongings, opening and closing drawers, checking out the content of decorative boxes lined up along a windowsill. One contained what appeared to be a jumble of rings; maybe belonging to Jason’s late wife. But Pete was no thief and he closed the box and moved on to the next which was empty. The desk looked promising, with notepads and sticky notes, bound books labeled Guest Book and Accounts and finally, Addresses. Looking through the S’s first, Pete didn’t find a Sandra. What was her last name? Starting at the A’s, he went through pages of names, no Sandra’s. But finally in the B’s, he found Benson. And there it was, her two numbers, but no address. Ripping the page out of the book, he went to the doorway, looking both ways, feeling like a burglar. He left the room, vaulting down the stairs to the side entrance again. Peeking out, there was no one in view. He looked up to the house next door and the windows were black. He was safe.

  Abandoning his job for the day, he’d say he was upset about Jason’s tragic accident. His apartment was blocks away, and he ran the distance, wanting to find Sandra’s address before it got too late to go to New York. Flipping open the top of his computer, he scrolled through reverse phone search sites. Typing in the phone number, immediately, Sandra’s Brooklyn address popped up and he jotted down the numbers. If it turned out not to be hers, oh well, he thought. He was willing to chance a wasted day if it meant finding her and beating the crap out of her.

  ***

  Getting motivated Monday morning was a struggle for Sandra. After the weekend at Pam’s turned out to be a waste of a trip except for Lisa and her family’s visit, she’d tossed and turned, unable to sleep, thinking about slights, real and imagined. Sitting in the back of a car on the way to work, trying to accept that her friendship with Pam over, she debated the wisdom of pursuing one with Lisa for Marcus, Meghan and Brent’s sake.

  Worrying or pretending to worry about Jason was more problematic than she’d expected. She reached in her bag for her phone, giving in and calling his prudish daughter, Jane.

  “I heard about your father and wanted to know if there was anything I could do for you and the family,” Sandra said.

  “No, nothing,” Jane said. “It couldn’t be worse. First Aaron and now my Uncle Jeff.”

  “What happened to Jeff?” Sandra asked, confused. “Do you mean Jason?”

  “No, Sandra, I think I know my uncle Jeff. On Sunday, he had a heart attack in my dad’s room and died. They tried to resuscitate him, but it was hopeless.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” Sandra said, shocked because she knew Jeff and Pam were inseparable at one time and how upset she’d be when she found out. “If I can help out in any way, please let me know. I’m not sure what, but if you need me to come down there to sit with him, I’ll be happy to.”

  “That would be so helpful, Sandra. It’s only been three days and I’m exhausted already. I have to get back to my job soon. Pam hasn’t even called so see how he is or if she can help.”

  “Well, I sort of understand her after what happened with the wedding,” Sandra said, loyally. “I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule. Let me know when you have to go to work and I’ll come down at least for that day.” Jane thanked her and they hung up. Sandra thought about what Jeff’s death might mean to Pam. She dialed her number.

  “Oh, I just realized you might still be in bed,” Sandra said when she answered. “I’m on my way to work.”

  “Nope, I’m up. The workmen are here and I’m just getting ready to go for a walk. What’s up?”

  “I just talked to
Jason’s daughter, and she told me something about Jeff I thought you should know. I didn’t want you to hear it from Jane.” There was a pause.

  “I think I know what you’re going to say. I should have told you on Sunday, but the confusion with the kids and everything, I just forgot to mention it. I know, how heartless.” Sandra did think it was a little strange that Pam forgot, but that was Pam.

  “Okay, well I am sorry. I’m glad you know.” The pause in their conversation was painful. “I’m almost at the office so I’ll let you go. Have a nice day.”

  “You too, Sandra.” They said goodbye and hung up. Sandra stared into space.

  How did my relationship with Pam get to this place? she thought idiotically. “You’re lucky she even speaks to you,” she said out loud.

  The car pulled onto Exchange Place and stopped in front of Sandra’s building. “Watch your step, miss,” the driver warned, holding the door open for her. Carefully stepping over a puddle, Sandra was sorry she’d come in to work at all.

  ***

  Pam grabbed her straw hat and a grocery bag and set out to look for beach glass. Ted wasn’t back at Jeff’s yet, but Natalie said to look for them later that day. Since Sandra’s call, second by second Pam could feel her resolve to stay positive dissolving. It started as a physical response; a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Almost like coming down with the flu, a body rush of chills followed by a hint of depression, which grew worse the farther she got from the house.

  Unable to concentrate on her walk, she turned around and went back home. She was grieving for Jeff. If the workmen weren’t coming, she would have stayed in bed. Why did regrets always accompany death? She wondered if Jeff had missed her after their blow up. She wished they’d had it out, that she’d taken the time to listen to him and to tell him her feelings in return. Her style of shutting people out was no longer working for her. Grieving for him was going to be difficult because she wasn’t finished dealing with his betrayal. It wasn’t like what happened with Jack. With Jack, he was perfect in her sight until others revealed what he’d been. If it hadn’t been for the AIDS, she might still be in denial about him.

  Hanging her straw hat up on its hook, the mess in the kitchen made her feel worse. Maybe it would be better if she left for Delaware to visit Jason . John was busy on other projects, but she suddenly wanted him to know what she was going to do. Going back into her bedroom, she dialed his number.

  “I was just thinking about coming by with coffee,” he said, chipper.

  “Is that right? Well I’d like that,” she answered, thoughts about going to Delaware forgotten. While she waited for him to arrive, she got back into bed. Always the fighter, she was proud of how she kept going in the worst circumstances. But on Monday, she was just tired.

  Knocking on her bedroom door woke her up. She got up, confused; it was John with a cardboard tray of coffee. “The men said you’d come back here. Are you alright?”

  “I must have fallen back to sleep. That’s so weird,” she said. “Do you mind staying in here?” She held the door open for him and shut it after he entered, not caring that the men knew he was in her bedroom.

  “Are you okay?” he repeated, concerned.

  “I think so. Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the chaise by the window. He’d put the tray on her dresser looking around the beautiful room. “I hope this helps me wake up.”

  “Could you be coming down with something?”

  “Oh, I hope not,” she said, going to the window and throwing the curtains open.

  “What a view,” John said, drinking his coffee.

  “This is the first year in memory that I wish we could fast forward to autumn. I’m just not into it this summer.”

  “You just had a shock or two. Maybe you need to give yourself a break. Let’s grill tonight and have a fire on the beach. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “I haven’t done that in years and years since the children were small.”

  “Well let’s do it. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I am looking forward to it!” Pam sat up in bed and drank her coffee, looking out the window. The sun was too bright, the water too blue. She felt homesick, yet she was sitting in her own house. It was a yearning for what used to be. How could she achieve being in the here and now? It had to be through constant reminders that she must live for today. There was only grace for today, not tomorrow, not yesterday. Grace for what? she thought, saddened. She’d used up all the grace she had coming to her. Just take one day at a time. Glancing at John, she was grateful for his company.

  “My friend Jeff’s husband is coming back to the beach today. I hope he decides to stay. If Jeff’s ex-wife moves in, we might have to erect a tall fence.” John laughed.

  “What’s her problem? Does she have biting dogs? Run a meth lab in her house? Have loud parties that last into the night?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Pam answered, shuddering.

  “Well, you’ll be fine then. I know what I’m talking about,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh, how awful. How do you cope with it?”

  “I don’t anymore. The house finally went up for sale and a nice, young couple with kids bought it. They fish all summer so I get fresh fish.” The nights when the house was still a rental were much different, Cassandra crying with a pillow over her head and him pacing in front of their bedroom window, his shotgun uncomfortably close by. He was just relieved he never shot anyone.

  “We’ve been lucky on this part of the beach. Except for the bed and breakfast, there aren’t any rentals that I know of.”

  “There are, but they are so expensive and have such a massive deposit, no one in their right mind would throw a free-for-all like my neighbors used to have. College kids on break, bachelor parties, you name it. I cringe just talking about it.” He took a drink of coffee.

  “So let’s talk about you. I get the feeling that something is bothering you or you wouldn’t be holed up in your bedroom.” Pam looked out the window, not used to having a man who was in tune to her moods. It was a little disconcerting. If he was sensing something amiss, she owed it to him to be honest.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” she said. “I’m afraid if I start dwelling on it, I won’t be able to pull myself out of it.”

  “Okay, let’s keep it simple then,” he replied. “What started it today? Right now?”

  “Well, about Jeff and all. His death.”

  “Oh, right. That is so tragic. Him just getting married and all.” John was still getting used to the idea of two men having a wedding.

  “It was more than that,” Pam said softly. “He was my best friend.” John looked at her questioningly.

  “After Jack died, I had no one left in my life who hadn’t betrayed me, but Jeff.”

  Suddenly and maddeningly, Pam lost control and started to cry. John sprang up without spilling his coffee and was at her side as the story came out, part of what he’d read in the papers, part what Violet and her girlfriends repeated, and new, heartbreaking stuff.

  “I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t know you well enough to dump on you. How many times can I repeat this story and not have it affect me negatively in some way? So the short version is that when Jason and I were dating, Jeff told him about Sandra and Jack. It was the final blow for me. I wanted to put that part of my life behind me without involving Jason, and here he was repeating gossip he’d been told. It infuriated me. I should have broken it off with him right then, but the truth is I liked our flea-marketing weekends enough to base my life on them. Thank God, it wasn’t enough for him or I would probably be sitting at his bedside down in Delaware right now. And that’s another thing. I’m feeling guilty about not rushing to him. Frankly, I don’t feel any obligation at all.”

  “Nor should you. Look Pam, if you want to go, or if you feel compelled to go, I’ll drive you. We can go next weekend, make a trip of it. There is a lot to see on the way.” She examined his face to see if it was sincere or if he was
offering out of a sense of duty.

  Taking a deep breath, his proposal put everything in perspective for her. “Thank you, John. Since you offered, I can see that it’s more important that I’m here for Ted. Natalie is coming with him and I’m assuming she’ll stay with him until they figure out what will happen with the house.”

  “I wish I were in the position to buy it,” John said. Pam put her coffee down on her nightstand and walked over, every move scrutinized by John as she slid onto his lap.

  “You won’t need to if everything works out the way I hope.”

  “And what exactly are your hopes?” he asked, smiling, encircling her waist with his arms, pulling her closer.

  “I’m hoping you’ll be here with me someday. You’ll already be at the beach so you won’t need to buy a house.” As happy as her words made John, the name Violet floated through his brain like a banner being pulled along by an airplane. Would he ever be free to live with Pam?

  “Well, that’s really great that you’re thinking ahead,” he said, hoping that sounded committed enough. “I’m flattered.” He stroked her back relaxed with her so close. It had almost been a week, barely long enough for two people to get comfortable with each other and she was already picturing him living there with her. She stood up and went back to her coffee, frowning.

  “What’s on your agenda today?” she said, needing to change the subject. His reluctance was palpable and she didn’t need a reminder that she was rushing things.

  “Just the usual; checking in on jobs. I’ll leave in a bit to supervise what’s in process. By the way, your appliances are supposed to be delivered after lunch so I’ll come back then.” He stood up, stretching. “It would be easy to stay here all day.”

  “This weekend, maybe? We can lock the doors, not answer the phone, and play on the beach.”