Prayers for the Dying: Pam of Babylon Book #4

by Suzanne Jenkins

Her plan was to call Pam that Saturday and make her offer. Slowly, their relationship was fizzling out. It was okay; Sandra knew it to be for the best. If she could get rid of the business, the final link to Pam would be broken and therefore the final threat for Tom eliminated. Sandra knew that the “Jack issue” between Tom and her may not ever go away, but she had to find out. She wanted to give their relationship every chance possible. She reluctantly got out of bed. It was cold and snowy outside and warm and toasty in the apartment. The steam-heat radiators were whistling away. She never wanted to leave.

  Tom had heard her getting up and had her coffee poured. He leaned in to peck her on the cheek when she came into the kitchen.

  “Good morning! How’d you sleep?” he asked, handing her a cup.

  “I slept great, thank you. How about you?” She smiled her Cheshire grin; they’d had wonderful sex in the middle of the night. Sandra had never lived with anyone and she and Jack rarely had spent the night together, so middle-of-the-night sex was something new. She woke up with Tom’s arms around her and his lips on her neck. The next thing she knew, he was wedging his knee in between hers, prompting her to spread wide so he could climb on top. It was quick and wonderful. She fell into a deep sleep immediately afterward. Tom laughed his light laugh, almost high and girlish. She loved it.

  “I slept like a log, thanks to you.” Tom raised his coffee cup in salute. “Now this is what being in love is all about!”

  She shook her head yes, laughing at him.

  “What’s on the schedule for you today?” Tom asked. They never made plans to do anything together on Saturdays. It had just evolved that way. They would go about their separate ways, taking care of business, catching up from the week, and if there was time or energy, they might do something together in the afternoon or early evening. Tom often went to his mother’s on Saturday afternoon, giving Sandra time to be alone and do whatever it was women needed to do.

  “I’m going to call Pam as soon as I have my coffee,” she said. “You know, about the business deal.” Earlier, she’d told him her plan and although he was worried that she might regret letting that much money get away, he knew that it was best to keep his opinions to himself. He didn’t realize that she was doing this mainly to eliminate the unhappiness Jack’s business was causing Tom.

  “Oh boy, that’s a tough one,” he countered. “What do you think she’ll say?”

  Sandra just frowned. “I have no idea. Her life won’t change one way or the other.” The more they talked about it, the more certain she was that getting rid of Lane, Smith and Romney was the wisest thing she could do after only six months. She was sure that Jack had left it to her to protect Pam from his greedy brother. Once again she thought, Thanks a lot, Jack.

  8

  Jack was true to his word. He did make time for Ashton after he and Pam returned to Manhattan from the honeymoon in Hawaii. Years later, Ashton would wonder if it wasn’t during the famous honeymoon that Jack picked up HIV. It was easier to blame the Hawaiians even though Jack’s behavior was suspect in New York long before he got married.

  Jack and Pam were gone ten days. Jack said it was torture being away from the city for that long. The only way he survived it was by continuously fucking his wife.

  “I hope she doesn’t expect that attention now that the ‘honeymoon’ is over,” he said. “I almost killed myself.”

  Ashton rolled on the bed laughing hysterically as he listened to Jack’s exaggerated tales of their daily lovemaking marathons, and then late at night after Pam fell asleep, the wild sex with Hawaiian “she-males.” He said he’d had his fill of that strangeness and didn’t intend to seek it out on the mainland. But Ash was never sure. He knew that once Jack had a taste of something different, it would be very difficult for him to not try it again and again.

  “She-male is a derogatory term to transsexuals,” Ashton told him. “You can use it talking to me, or to your hookers in Maui, but don’t try it in town. You’ll end up with a knife in your back.” Jack tried to limit his involvement with illegal prostitutes because he was afraid of getting caught by the police. Ashton struggled with his feelings about his strong, omnipotent lover being afraid of anything, especially the law.

  “Most I know are too passive from estrogen injections to knife anyone, especially me!” Jack exclaimed with his usual arrogance. “They love me. Come with me downtown sometime. I don’t have to pay for it.”

  “You just lied to me!” Ash exclaimed. “I thought you said you weren’t going to do it here.” But Jack just giggled and gave him his sheepish, “you caught me” look.

  Jack discovered that he also liked a little violence with his sex. Ashton wasn’t a willing partner, but he knew of a group in their circle who had the same proclivity and they were thrilled to have Jack join them. Ashton would marvel again and again how Jack could satisfy his need for the exotic while being married to Miss Fabulous. He would stay out late, night after night, using the excuse of business, which was sometimes true. With all of his extracurricular activities, he needed a huge income. Jack was known as a maniac in his sector of the real estate market, so the work came steadily. He had so much at stake, and was able to juggle everything smoothly for years, right up to the end.

  After old man Lane died, Peter and Jack left his name on the marquee. Mr. Lane left his share of the business to them, his only relative an ancient sister living in Florida. The men faithfully sent her generous checks and took care of her living expenses until her death. Jack had karma coming from every direction: goodness and generosity from his over-the-top gift giving and depravity and cheating from his trysts and liaisons. His friends couldn’t rationalize why someone who was a satyriasis would jeopardize another’s life by getting married. It was so selfish, so cruel, that no amount of excuse-making could explain it. As time passed, it became obvious that Jack was mentally ill. How he managed to support his lavish lifestyle, have a lovely, devoted wife and two beautiful children yet continue on a road to destruction baffled even his most immoral friends.

  Luckily for manic Jack, he required minimal sleep. He’d be out until one or two during the week and up at seven, day after day. In the beginning, Ashton saw him almost every day. Jack would meet him for coffee in the morning, or stop by his apartment for sex at night. Jack avoided the nighttime club scene after his wedding, and friends bemoaned that the club circuit wasn’t the same without him.

  Ashton was rabidly jealous of Pam. He wanted to be her, or be her best friend. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, not getting in touch with Pam. Jack would have been furious and Ash had seen the result of disobedience to Jack. As a form of punishment Jack would disappear for days. If Pam minded Jack’s late hours, or complained, Jack never confided it to anyone. Ashton was the only friend to whom Jack spoke of Pam. And according to Jack, everything was great. He said that during the first months of marriage, Pam seemed slightly confused when the realization finally sunk in that Jack wasn’t going to be hanging around much, but she never addressed it. Ashton wondered if she preferred the time alone. Pam was finished with college and didn’t have to work, didn’t have any desire to have a career. Her only hobby was exercising, so Jack got her a membership to the New York Athletic Club.

  “You have to be dressed appropriately when you walk through the building to get to the gym, okay? No sweatshirts or spandex,” Jack said, handing the membership card over to her.

  “Well, that’s a little odd!” she replied. Pam had never heard of a gym with a dress code.

  “You’ll see when you get inside the building,” he said. “It’s not your average gym.”

  She loved it from the first visit, however strange she found the dress code. It was a beautiful building and the people walking through it looked like any business people in the city. Pam’s obsession with fitness began when she started working out at that gym. She’d always been conscientious about her body, but something about regimented, purposeful exercise appealed to her. She became a regular fixture
there, even during her pregnancies.

  After the first year of marriage when Pam didn’t get pregnant, they went to a fertility specialist who told Jack privately to lay off masturbating if he wanted to impregnate his wife. What few sperm he had were immature and it was obvious that he was going to town on a fairly continuous basis. Of course, Jack didn’t tell him it was not just self-abuse. He followed orders and Pam got pregnant within the month. Jack told Ashton she positively glowed.

  “For someone who doesn’t have a word to say for herself, she is really basking in the limelight of this pregnancy, like she invented it.” Jack was proud of her, too. She made her own maternity clothes; sleek sheaths with room for her prominent belly and nothing baggy or blousy. It was during her pregnancies that Jack displayed the rare attentiveness that Pam would enjoy for a brief time. They went out to eat together in the neighborhood, took after-dinner walks, spent time playing games on the weekends. After the babies came, Marie spent even more time with the young couple, and Jack spent more time at home. He started to feel slightly suffocated though, and that was when the idea to move the family to the island came about. Ashton was upset.

  “I’ll never see you!” he complained. He and Jack were lying in bed on a Wednesday afternoon. “It’s bad enough the short time I see you now.” He was nestled in Jack’s side, his arm across Jack’s chest.

  “Stop complaining, will you please? I come here to relax.” Jack reached over Ashton to get the sports page. “Besides, I’m staying in the city during the week. We’ll see each other more after the move.” He moved just enough so Ashton would get the hint and take his arm away.

  “You are? What’s Miss Fabulous have to say about that? I mean, is she willing to be away from you all week?” Ashton asked.

  “She didn’t say anything. Trust me, Pam has her own agenda. We barely see each other at all now,” he stated. “The weekends are family time. During the week, well, let’s just say that during the week, I work,” Jack said with sarcasm and a laugh.

  “I don’t want to hear about that, either! You’re sure as hell not here during the week!” Ashton got up, picking his pants up off the floor. He knew he was on dangerous ground but couldn’t help himself. Jack put the paper down on his bare chest and looked at his lover.

  “Now see, Pam would never say that to me. She might try harder to please me, but she wouldn’t whine and complain. You’re beginning to get on my nerves, Ashton. I might have to take a break from this relationship.” But he was smiling. Ashton jumped back into bed, tearing the paper away from Jack.

  “Just say it! Tell me you love me! Tell me you love me more than you love her!” He had straddled Jack and was playfully bouncing up and down against Jack’s hips. Jack started laughing, but he was getting aroused again.

  “I love you! Now knock it off! I have to get back to work.” He lifted Ashton off of him and got up from the bed. “I love you as much as I love Pam. Are you happy?”

  Ashton shrugged his shoulders. It was good enough, for now. “Do you want coffee before you go?” he asked, sure that Miss Fabulous would have had a four-course meal prepared for Jack. But no, Jack was late. He pulled on his clothes without showering, and Ashton wondered who would get his sloppy seconds today. Surely not Pam. Ashton walked him to the door of the apartment and they kissed good-bye, Jack promising to call later. Ash stood at the door with his eye to the peephole, watching Jack go to the stairway door, bypassing the elevator. Feeling empty and depressed, he went back to the bedroom and stood next to the bed for a good minute. The urge to get back in and sleep for the rest of the day was strong, but he had an appointment before dinner. He reached down and with unaccustomed violence, yanked the sheets off the bed. He suddenly wanted no sign of Jack Smith in his apartment. He grabbed the pillows and shook their cases off, throwing them across the room into the chair by his desk. Striping off dirty sheets felt empowering. He made up the bed in fresh linens and took the sullied sheets to the hallway where the washer and dryer were closeted. Stuffing them into the washer, he shook at least twice the recommended detergent over them. Jack’s DNA would be eradicated, too. Feeling better, he got into the shower and washed the remaining evidence of their lovemaking down the drain. The feeling of decisiveness would last into the night, but by the next morning, he’d be crying again, missing Jack, begging him to come over one last time.

  9

  In Babylon, light snow continued falling throughout the day without much accumulation. Dave dropped off bottled water at Pam’s in case the power went out, along with the few groceries on her list. He promised to return in time for the evening news. It had become a tradition for them to spend a few hours together during dinner each night, watching the news and eating dinner on TV trays, just like an old married couple. Pam remembered feeling content doing similar things with Jack until she found out the truth about him. She was up front with Dave.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do? Sitting in front of the TV, eating dinner like old folks?” she asked. “I’d hate to find out that you are bored silly. I mean, would you rather go out?” She was pouring fresh coffee for him while he ate. He looked up at her, concerned.

  “What’s this all about?” he asked in return. “I like our routine. It is what I do when I’m home alone, except the dogs are begging for food while I try to eat. I should be asking you if you are okay with it.” They hadn’t talked about Jack yet, so he was in the dark about the origin of Pam’s misgivings. Realizing what he said may have been insulting to her, Dave continued, “Maybe asking you to do what I do with my dogs when I am home isn’t fair to you, either.”

  Pam started laughing. “Trust me, this is exactly what I like; being in my own home, cooking for someone I care about, sitting here at the window overlooking the water. In my opinion, it doesn’t get any better than this. But if you get bored with this arrangement, you have to tell me, okay? Don’t make me guess after it’s too late, and you are ready to move on.” She hoped he wouldn’t press for details, and was relieved when he didn’t. But she decided to share a little more with him. “My husband and I did this very thing on the weekends that he was home and I thought he enjoyed it. Since his death, I discovered he led a different life when we were apart. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes I made with him,” she said, careful to leave out, “when I am with you.” She finished pouring the coffee and sat down to eat. Dave brought prepared food from the store frequently, but Pam was beginning to enjoy cooking again, almost as much as she did when her children were home and Jack was alive. Dave was a grateful dinner guest after having to cook for himself for most of his life.

  “This is a delicious salad,” he told her. “I rarely eat raw vegetables because they always taste dirty to me.”

  “Do you wash them?” she asked innocently.

  Dave was discovering that there was a naivety about Pam that was both appealing and made her ripe for teasing. “Are you supposed to wash them?” he asked.

  Pam burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. Knock it off. How is that vegetables taste bad to a man who owns an organic store? It doesn’t make any sense!” But she was happy that he was comfortable enough to tease her. Jack did it all the time, but his teasing was tinged with sarcasm, and sometimes it stung.

  They finished dinner and had coffee and dessert, and before he left for the night, Dave helped Pam clean up the dishes. He had to spend some time with his dogs and get to bed early; his day often began before five in the morning when he would meet his brother at the store to open for the day.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he said to her, bending down to kiss her cheek. “Another great meal. Saturday night we have Downtown Pub to go to. We better rest up for it.”

  She was suddenly so content that without thinking, she wound her arms around his shoulders and reached up, eyes closed, and starting kissing him passionately. He kissed her back, tongue and all. His hand moved down and squeezed her rear end, giving Pam a thrill she hadn’t thought she would feel again. She pulled awa
y from the kiss and started laughing again.

  “I’m highly insulted,” Dave exclaimed. “Here I give you the best ass pinch I have and you laugh at me.” But he continued holding her and rubbing her back. She rested her head on his chest, his chin on top of her head. She would remember this moment as the beginning of their intimate relationship.

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think about what it would be like to have someone do that to me at my age. I wondered how we move on to the next phase of relationship, and I guess that’s how! I didn’t think it would be that easy.” She had forgotten already that she had started it with the kiss, and he didn’t remind her; the moment was too nice. Dave held her tightly and then they stepped away at the same time. It seemed like letting things play out on their own was working for them.

  “You probably better leave if you plan on getting any sleep tonight,” she said, surprising him with her flirtatiousness.

  “Ah, forget sleep! I can sleep another time!” Dave said. But he let her guide him to the door.

  “No, we better slow down,” she said. “That was nice; let’s not get carried away here!” He bent down to kiss her again and she reached up to meet him; it was a real kiss on the lips and not the cheek peck they were used to giving each other. The ice had been broken.

  The next morning, Pam went into the kitchen to start the dishwasher when the phone rang. She walked back out to the hallway to get the phone, but checked the caller ID first. It was Marie’s boyfriend, Steve Marks. What did he want? Nothing good would come out of any call this guy makes. She considered letting the machine pick up, but gave in and answered it.

  “What’s up, Steve?” she said curtly, no hello or chance for small talk. He seemed confused but pulled himself together; Pam remembered that he was over sixty and backed off, regretful that she was being mean.

  “I have someone here who wants to talk to you. Is it okay if I put Marie on?” He hesitated, and Pam remembered that she had told Marie not to call her anymore. Feeling unlike herself suddenly, with anger at the surface, Pam had to catch her breath before she could continue. What was going on? “Yes, of course, put her on,” she said, the conversation having an air of unreality about it. She could hear Steve talking softly to Marie and then Marie came on.