Soulmates

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Hey, I’m sorry about Jeff,” Ben said, extending his hand. “You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

  “Thank you, Ben,” Ted said. “Life isn’t easy for anyone.”

  “I’m going to run next door for a second to see if Pam’s ready to go,” Natalie said, waving as she left the back door. Stomping over the dunes, she was as angry as she’d been in a long while.

  “Pam!” She shouted at the veranda doors, watching her come with concern on her face.

  “You okay? I saw Ben’s car,” she said.

  “Yes, and he's being a dick, as I expected. Are you about ready? We’re preparing to leave.”

  “We’ll be right behind you,” she answered. “Take a deep breath.” Natalie nodded, distracted, and turned to leave.

  “How are you this morning?” Natalie asked, turning back. “Are you going to Philly tomorrow?” Pam shook her head.

  “Jason called last night. He let me off the hook by saying he would call Sandra when I refused to give him a second chance.”

  “He’s coming here today. His son called last night for directions. Just giving you a heads up.”

  “Do you know if Sandra will be there? I haven’t heard from her.” Natalie shook her head walking backwards to what was now Ted’s house.

  “Sandra does what Sandra wants. Chances are if she can be the center of attention, she’ll be there.”

  The funeral was a quiet, staid affair. Most of the people in attendance had never met Ted and didn’t know anything about Jeff’s status as a married gay man. His ex-wife and Ted tried to defer to each other, but Marybeth Babcock lost, and Ted was happy to take a back seat to her. They would have a respectful, if distant relationship.

  Sandra didn’t attend, and neither did Jason.

  By Saturday morning, everyone knew Jason ended his misery over Aaron’s death with an overdose of pain pills. His daughter, Louise delivered a seven-pound son the same night.

  Fall

  Chapter 26

  Beach season over, visitors to Babylon knew not to miss the autumn spectacle on Sea View Drive. Residents went overboard, competing to see who could erect the most lavish fall decorating. Pam spent much of the time on Friday holding the ladder for John, laughing at the one-liners he threw down at her, tickled that he was orchestrating her dreams in strings of lights, pumpkins and scarecrows. To every item they put out, Ted would add one to his tableau.

  “You know Jeff’s turning over in his grave, don’t you?” Pam informed him softly, giggling. Jeff Babcock’s house graced the New York Times Sunday Style Section every season. But definitely not this year.

  “Hey, we’re going for Mad Magazine,” Ted said while his daughter, Deborah burst into laughing hysterics.

  “Pam, don’t encourage him,” Deborah called.

  “When’s your mother coming?” Pam asked.

  “Her last class is over at noon so any minute. I’ll pick her up from the train.”

  “I can do it,” Pam said. “I told her I might try to surprise her if we got our decorating done and we are! Come look when you get off that ladder. You aren’t going to surpass us this year, Ted. Sorry. Next year maybe, after you’ve had some experience.”

  Jeannie, her friend who was married to Dave from Organic Bonanza, kept her supplied with corn stalks and pumpkins, everything she herself wasn’t going to use to decorate the grocery store and beach house where she lived with Dave.

  John built a giant cornucopia from scrap wood and they had it at the base of the fountain. After draining the fountain, he filled it with Jeannie’s offerings, spilling over the sides and filling the cornucopia. It was a fabulous monument to the season.

  Bernice and Nelda shook their heads, watching the sight unfold. “That scarecrow is about as tacky as you get. I’m surprised Pam isn’t fined by the village for this mess,” Bernice muttered.

  “If you look at it from a child’s perspective, it’s not half bad,” Nelda said, tilting her head this way and that.

  “Is Arnold coming this afternoon?” Nelda asked, changing the topic. Arnold was the dapper gentleman Bernice met on the ship, a resident of the town just twenty minutes away, who was at the beach house to play cards most afternoons now.

  “He is!” Bernice replied excitedly. “Please join us. By trying to stay away yesterday, you made me nervous. We don’t need to be alone, if that’s what motivated you.”

  “Well, that is kind of you, Bernice. I’m not sure why you’d want us hanging around.”

  “He’s here every day. You and Annabelle will keep us from getting tired of each other.” In two more months, Annabelle’s steward and Raymond Alastair, the pilot who took a liking to Nelda, would be in port and they planned on coming to Babylon for American Thanksgiving.

  “It will be like the old Thanksgivings,” Bernice said, happily. “I wonder if Pam has thought of it. I know she’s dreaded most of the holidays in the recent past.”

  “What has Pam dreaded?” she asked, walking into her fabulous kitchen. “You should go back out now and see the result. It’s the best fall decorating we’ve ever had.”

  “Holidays, in general. Thanksgiving, specifically,” Nelda answered.

  “This year it might not be so bad,” she said. “We’ll have our new faces, and Ted and Natalie right next door. It’ll be good. I’m looking forward to it.” Bernice winked at Nelda.

  Pam went outside again for ladder holding duties. “It might be okay this year after all,” Bernice said. “I’m excited.”

  ***

  Violet Zapelli wandered down the aisles of the campus library, searching for reference material. Struggling with her master’s thesis, she kept hoping she’d find her stride soon, that place all writers achieve after a while if they are going to have success. So far, she’d failed attaining it.

  “Violet! What a surprise.” It was Becky Morgan. “I haven’t seen you in months. You never return my calls. I always thought we were good friends.” Violet felt backed into a corner. She didn’t want a close friend. Becky Morgan was kind and sweet, but she was too clingy, worried about Violet’s isolation, trying to steer her toward healthy living when unhealthy living was the only way that interested Violet.

  “It’s just been crazy. My mom got married again and I’ve been like a loon trying to finish this paper. There’s no time.”

  “I wasn’t asking you to take a world tour, just answer your damn phone once in a while, or return a call.”

  “Look Becky, I’m not at a place where I can spend any time socializing. If that pisses you off, I’m sorry. Get over it.” Violet wanted to get by, but she was too big to squeeze through, so she turned around and walked out of the library without getting the sources she needed. There was a fast food burger joint on campus and her hunger was overpowering her. Walking as fast as she was able, she got there just as the line was starting to queue up. When it was her turn to order, the server told her she had just made it.

  “Breakfast ended two minutes ago. Good timing! Okay, two doubles, a large fry and a super chocolate shake, correct?”

  “Pipe down,” Violet said, nodding her head. “You don’t have to announce it to the world.” The girl shrugged her shoulders and turned to put the order up while Violet stepped aside to let the next customer pass. Her mouth was watering; all she wanted was to stuff half the first burger into her mouth. The action alone would satisfy her starvation, making it possible for her to enjoy the last bites.

  Grabbing the bag and her frosty drink, she waddled out to the car and struggled to get behind the wheel. Digging through the bag, she retrieved the first burger, tearing the wrapper off, stuffing it into her mouth and biting off as much as she could. It was in this posture, with her cheeks full of food and the mangled burger held close to her mouth that she would look up and see Becky Morgan standing at the side of her car, looking in, shaking her head in disgust.

  At two on Friday afternoon, the ladies were in the den sitting around a card table with their guest, Arnold Hamer, playing
cards. “I’m leaving to get Natalie from the station,” Pam called from the kitchen. “Do you want anything while I’m out?”

  “Stop at Craves and get a bottle of Tequila please,” Bernice answered. When there was no response, she looked up and Pam was standing in the doorway.

  “What?” Bernice asked.

  “You’re not serious, right?”

  “Ha! I’m dead serious. We want to do shots tonight. Annabelle it’s your turn to deal.”

  “How’s Arnold getting home?” Pam asked. “He can’t drive after doing Tequila shots.”

  “If it’s okay with you, I thought I might take one of your guest rooms tonight,” he said shyly. Pam quickly backpedaled, embarrassed that she was treating them like children.

  “Of course you can stay, Arnold. And Bernice I’ll get Tequila. Do we have coarse salt and limes?”

  “We have it leftover from last weekend,” Annabelle said, shuffling cards.

  “You did shots last weekend, too?” Pam asked, shocked. “Jeez. Where was I?”

  “Yes we did. Arnold also spent the night, in my bed, if you must know.” The women burst out laughing and he shrugged his shoulders, smiling, embarrassed.

  “But the man snores,” Bernice said. “I’m too old to go without sleep.”

  “Whatever,” Pam said, waving them off. “Too much information!” But she was smiling as she went out to the garage.

  “Please stay off the ladder until I get back,” she called to John, backing her car down the driveway. He waved to her nodding and turned back to Ted, his new best friend.

  Natalie was waiting for her at the station, waving madly when her car came into view. Pam pulled up to the curb and unlocked the door.

  “Hurray! My friend is here!” she sang.

  “Yes, thank God its Friday,” Natalie said, sliding into the passenger seat after throwing her bags in the back.

  “How long are you staying?” Pam remarked seeing the amount of luggage she had.

  “Actually, two of those things belong to you,” Natalie said, looking into Pam’s eyes. “We were going to destroy it, but Ashton’s mother felt it belonged to you.”

  “I’m frightened,” Pam said, gravely. “I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

  “Remember when you said last summer you wish you knew more about Ashton and Jack?”

  “Vaguely,” she answered, her brows knitted in concern.

  “I brought Ashton’s collection of ephemera. He saved every matchbook cover of the places he and Jack frequented, with his written narratives. Photos and menus and invitations galore, organized meticulously. I wonder if he hoped to do so would magically change Jack, he’d renounce his life with women and turn to Ashton.”

  Pam sighed, relieved. “I would be interested to see it,” she answered finally, knowing Ashton had been with Jack since they were children.

  “Does it make you sad? Because I would feel awful if I misread you. The last thing I want to do is dredge up anything bad for you, when everything seems to be going smoothly at last.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I don’t seem to react or notice if there are negatives. John’s been so wonderful, and there is enough distance from all the pain. I may have had a healing from my marriage. I don’t even mind Dan that much, to tell you the truth. As long as Lisa is happy, I’m fine with him being around.”

  “That’s great, Pam. It’s about time you find happiness.”

  “What about you?” Pam asked. “What’s going on with you and Ben?”

  “Nothing, which is sad, I suppose. He’s jealous of Ted and I’m not giving up my relationship with him. My daughter loves Ted and I love the beach. So if I ever find anyone again it will have to be a man who is self-confident enough to accept Ted.”

  Driving in silence, it occurred to Pam that looking through Ashton’s photos and memories might spur some bad ones of her own, but she was willing to risk it if it meant satisfying residual curiosity about who Jack really was. Was he her heterosexual husband who was a player, or was he really a gay man who practiced some pretty horrific misogyny on the side? Who was Jack?

  ***

  After dinner that Friday, John left, promising to return early the next morning to take Pam to a craft show in town. Natalie was coming over with Ashton’s treasures soon, and Pam prepared for her visit by chilling a bottle of Vouvray and arranging fruit and cheese. Doing these things reminded her of getting ready to entertain Jeff. Missing him more than she thought she would, it was pleasant going through the motions.

  “You fix snacks for John,” Natalie said. “How’s that any different?”

  “Because for John a pizza and a six pack would be all he needs. This is nice, a ladies' repast.”

  “Honestly, I’d rather have a pizza, too,” Natalie replied smiling. Pam put her arms in the air in a position of futility, laughing.

  “Well, let’s eat this and if it’s not enough, we’ll head out to Shore Pizza later. I’m feeling a little jittery, wondering what I’m going to discover here.” Natalie brought out the first folder; an accordion-style file box. In each compartment, Ashton organized items relevant for that time.

  “Here’s a grouping of things from their junior high years,” she explained, pulling out a large, worn manila envelope. Pam’s heart started pounding when she saw the first object; a class picture of Miss Fredrick’s Eighth Grade Class, 1968, Amsterdam Avenue Junior High School.

  “I can’t pick out which one is Ashton, but I know that must be Jack,” Natalie said. “He looks like the pictures I’ve seen.” She carefully handed it over to Pam, aware that emotions were running high. Pam took it and put it on her lap, looking down at it. Young boys and girls, neatly dressed, smiling. One after the other they’d lined up, the shorter children in the front, taller in the back. She spotted Jack immediately; near the center of the group, white shirt and dark tie, perfectly combed hair. She remembered Brent at that age; she practically had to force him into the shower to bathe. Jack was always perfect in that regard. He was so cute, so innocent. Of course, she’s seen pictures of him as a young person before, but not since his death. Tears near the surface, she wanted to feel everything this time, aware that she might discover something about herself, as well.

  “Which one’s Ashton?” she asked. Natalie pointed to the shorter boy in the row below Jack, and immediately saw that they were looking at each other. Jack was looking down to the right, and Ashton had his head angled and was looking up to the left. Even for a school picture they couldn’t separate themselves.

  “Wow,” Pam said, choking back her tears. “They loved each other.”

  “I think so. Ashton said Jack’s old man was raping him by the time he was eight. The abuse was limited to fondling, that sort of horror until the boys could take him without it killing them.

  “Oh God,” Pam cried out. “Poor boys.”

  “Yes. He said the old lady knew what was happening and that’s why she drank.” Pam shook her head, grabbing Natalie’s hand.

  “If we’re going to do this, I want to concentrate on what Ashton and Jack meant to each other. If we keep talking about Harold Smith, I won’t be able to go on. Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, of course, it is,” Natalie said, regretful. “I just remembered everything Ashton said. Let’s move on.” She pulled out more pictures, the soccer team with Harold Smith as a coach, swim team, his Bar Mitzvah.

  “This is amazing,” Pam said, picking up the picture of the family in the synagogue. “I’m surprised Harold allowed it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Bernice was Jewish, not Harold. It just seems sort of a contradiction that he’d treat his children horribly and then support this.” She pointed to the picture. Jack was standing next to his little brother, Billy, looking down at him with love, wearing a prayer shawl. Bernice was model pretty, skeletal, wearing Chanel and a hat. The boys had yarmulkes on; it was difficult to see if Harold wore one.

  “I wonder why Ashton had this picture.
Did Jack give it to him?”

  “There’s another in here,” Natalie said, searching. “He was there. Ashton was at any event important to Jack.” The next photo was of the Bar Mitzvah again, but this one was of Ashton and Jack. Ashton was smiling and holding on to the top of his head, most likely keeping his yarmulke in place. He had on dress pants and shirt but no suit. Sunday school clothes.

  The next hours revealed more touching memories of Jack and his friends and family. Intrigued with his high school years, Pam loved the photos of the proms and Sadie Hawkins dances which always displayed Jack in the center of a group of admirers, resplendent in his choice of clothing, his dates gorgeous in over the top evening gowns.

  Then the college years, some pictures of Jack and Pam standing side by side, Jack clearly smitten with her, Pam oblivious to her surroundings. More formal dress photos of events Pam didn’t remember.

  “This is the Jack I know,” she said. “He loved dressing up. I bet he went to a formal event every week in the city. I hated going so Marie would be his date. At least to the functions I knew about. He may have taken other women for all I know. I guess I could ask Sandra.”

  “Wait,” Natalie said. “I have another box of items I wasn’t sure you’d want to see, fancy balls and all kinds of weird dress up events, even costume parties. He’s with other women in some of them. It might be innocent for all we know, he was standing next to so and so when the camera shutter opened.”

  “Get them out,” Pam said. “My curiosity it roused. I have no negative feelings either, no anger or sadness. It’s like our life really never happened and I’m just discovering him now. I never knew the real Jack. I thought that by sorting through his history with Ashton, I might learn who he was but now he’s more a stranger to me than ever. It might be good for me to be so detached if he’s finally gone for good. I can be done grieving for him once and for all.” Natalie reached over to hug Pam and they held each other for a moment.