Chapter 5
Natalie Borg was free to return Ted Dale’s call, according to Penny Able. But after she spoke to her attorney, she decided to hold off. It was already after eight Friday night, and she was hoping that Ted would suggest they get together. If it was too late, he might not think of it. And waiting for another day to pass might increase his anxiety, which would work in her favor. She didn’t want to be the one to pursue a relationship with him, but it was exactly what she had in mind. She slept like a log. When she woke up, she felt excited to talk to Deborah. The former antipathy had surrendered to her inherent maternal instinct. As she lay in bed, she thought about the sensations she had while pregnant, remembering the baby moving inside of her, the size of her breasts, the onset of labor. Her mother, furious and unable to relinquish her anger for even a morning, begrudgingly accompanied her daughter to the ER after the contractions started.
“Daddy wants me to put you in a cab,” she admitted.
“Well, I’m glad you’re coming with me,” Deborah grunted, trying not to bear down in the cab. The thought of giving birth on the filthy seat was disgusting, so she took little puffs of breath and did everything she could not to push. As the cab swept into the ER driveway, the joy of seeing the shining chrome doors and the doctors and nurses rushing around granted her permission to surrender to the power within her, and she pushed down with such force that her membranes ruptured and she shit in her pants, all in one motion. When she realized what she was leaving behind in the cab mixed with the absolute mortification on her mother’s face, she began to laugh so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks. She told the nurses what had happened, and they laughed along with her. The laughter minimized her labor pains, and in a very short time she delivered an eight-pound baby girl.
Part of the method she used to shield herself from the unbearable pain of giving her baby away was to refuse to look at her or allow anyone to speak of her. The jocular, laboring mother gave way to a distraught, belligerent young woman. For months afterward, Natalie couldn’t stand to speak to her parents. She went to her menial job in the college accounting office during the day, and in the evening she took master’s-level classes in education. When what she’d given up came to mind, she refused to dwell on it. By the baby’s first birthday, Natalie rarely thought of her, and if she did, she pushed it out of her mind. When she was really lonely, she allowed a middle-of-the-night fantasy, one in which the baby made her new family miserable and longed to return to her real mother. Twenty years of negative energy directed at her daughter had evidently had a powerful effect; luring Deborah back and making it impossible for her to bond with anyone else.
Natalie took a shower and washed her curly hair, taking extra time to shave her legs and even her toes. She’d go without socks today, her one concession to fashion. The clock said eight o’clock, too early to call anyone on a Saturday morning. She’d have coffee and wait until ten. And then she would call Ted Dale about their daughter. She hoped he wanted to see the girl because she had to. The emotional roller coaster was going faster and faster as the minutes dragged by.
Living in one of the most congested places in the country afforded Natalie the opportunity to be as isolated as if she were living on a mountaintop in Nepal. Teaching college students the contribution Native Americans made to modern life further separated her from human interaction. Who gives a shit? most of her students thought, but it was a required course for graduation on the same level as English 101. She was guaranteed seven full classes a semester. In spite of her busy life, communication with real human beings was almost nonexistent. She spent hours on social networking sites, chatting with strangers, playing time-wasting games, and then when it became too boring, she joined a dating site. Finding the nerve to actually meet someone in person terrified her, so eventually she stopped going there, as well. Deborah Phillips and Ted Dale reentered her life in the nick of time. God knew she didn’t want to have to change. Having these outside forces to deal with made any self-evaluation secondary in importance. Who could worry about weight loss and exercise when she had a former lover and their unknown daughter to deal with?
Ten o’clock finally rolled around, and Natalie stood by the phone with Ted’s number in her hand. The shrill ring knocked it out of her hand as she jumped in the air, frightened to death.
“Goddamned phone!” But she quickly picked it up and saw Ted Dale’s number on the caller ID. She cleared her throat and then spoke a soft “Hello.”
“Natalie? It’s Ted Dale again. Am I getting you at a bad time?” He and Ashton were barely speaking to each other that morning, so he thought the sooner he got this call over with, the faster he’d be in a position to kiss some ass and make things better around the home front.
“No, no, not at all! I was just picking up your number to call you back. I’m just flabbergasted that this situation has cropped up when it has,” she said, trying hard for a demure sound and having it come out all wrong. She was simpering. Finally, she just gave up. She was what she was, and there was no way she was going to change now. And then she wondered what he must be going through; he never even knew there was a baby.
“I guess I’d better start right off saying how sorry I am,” Ted admitted. “I know you tried to contact me after we had been together.
“Thank you, Ted. Apology accepted,” Natalie replied. “What have you been doing for the past twenty years? I mean, are you married? Is this going to cause any problems for you?” She suddenly wondered if he had a wife lurking, someone who wouldn’t appreciate a young female entering their life.
“I am,” he said. “But we’ve only been together for a year. You and I happened a long time ago.” Natalie’s heart fell. He was married. Oh well, what the hell. “So I guess the big question is, what do we do next?”
“I have to see her,” Natalie said. “What about you?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I think I might have to, too. We’ll never have kids, and now I find I actually have one. It’s almost a gift,” Ted admitted. Taken aback, Natalie didn’t expect that from Ted, thinking he would be more resentful of the child, or even angry. And here he was, grateful. She made a split-second decision not to address it; she wanted to try to stay neutral with him for at least this first conversation.
“I guess we’d better call Penny Able and tell her. I know it’s Saturday and all, but I think I’m going to call her now. She said she monitors her answering machine. If Deborah is anxious to meet us, she might be waiting to hear something, and I don’t want to make it any tougher on her,” Natalie said.
“What would you have named her?” Ted wasn’t ready to hang up. He had to know the details, but Natalie didn’t seem eager to share. “Can I ask without causing you pain?”
“I wanted to name her Jennifer I know, I know, everyone is named Jennifer. But the name actually wasn’t as common as it is now. All the babies were named Emma. Emma or Taylor.” Natalie was starting to feel weary. She thought rehashing all the memories for Ted’s benefit would be uplifting, even thrilling, but it was having the opposite effect on her. If he didn’t want to see her right then, what was the point of talking? It could wait until they saw the child. She decided to be up front.
“Look, Ted, I don’t want to have this conversation over the telephone. Do you want to get together today? I don’t know what your situation is, but why not get your wife and come here for brunch? I’d feel more comfortable giving you the history face-to-face.” Ted thought about it for a second and agreed they should probably get together first before meeting with Deborah.
“OK, let me speak with Ash, and I’ll call you back in ten minutes. Will that work for you?” he asked. She agreed, and they said goodbye to each other once again.
Ted put the phone in the charger and walked out to the living room. The sun was shining right in the window, hovering over Roosevelt Island like a balloon with a smokestack as the string attached to it. It hadn’t taken much effort to leave his dank apartment downtown near
Battery Park and move up here into Ashton’s digs. Although Ted missed the convenience of being close to his office, once he spent a weekend here on the Upper East Side, he knew he’d never regret it. They’d considered taking over his Aunt Elizabeth’s apartment after she died, but the view of the park wasn’t as compelling as that of the river, even though he had to look between buildings to see it. There was a different energy up here. Downtown was fine for younger people, he’d decided secretly. It wasn’t a fact he generally wanted to admit agreeing with when showing middle-aged clients properties downtown.
“What’s going on?” Ashton asked, walking into the living room. He’d just taken a shower, and his blond good looks and his being dressed in a sparkling terry bathrobe brought a smile to Ted’s face.
“Did you have anything major planned for today?” Ted asked.
“Not really. Just playing catch-up from the trip,” Ashton said, refolding an afghan his mother had knit for them and placing it precisely over the back of the couch. “Why?”
“I got in touch with Natalie Borg. She asked us to come for brunch so we can talk about Deborah before we meet her,” Ted explained. Ashton had an unreadable expression on his face, which was cause for concern. “I told her I would call her in a few minutes, after I talked to you.”
“Are you sure you want me to come along?” Ashton asked in an uncharacteristic display of humility. “I mean, won’t it cramp your style if I tag along? What if Natalie Borg’s been carrying a torch for you all these years?”
“No, I think it will be helpful if you come. If she is carrying a torch for me, your presence will help put it out.”
Ashton shrugged his shoulders. “OK, I guess I can go. Brunch out will be nice.” He went back to their bedroom to get ready while Ted called Natalie back. There would be three for brunch.
Chapter 6
That same weekend, another couple would be in a jet landing at JFK—Pam Smith and her man friend, Dave. After almost a year as companions, and two years since her late husband Jack died, Pam still was not comfortable calling Dave her boyfriend. They’d met at the grocery store he owned and managed in Babylon.
“Are you waiting for a better boyfriend to come along?” her mother, Nelda, asked.
“Mother, not every thought you have needs to be put into words,” Pam replied. Secretly, Pam did give her mother’s evaluation some thought. Why don’t I want to call Dave my boyfriend? He comes with me when I travel to see my children, we eat dinner together almost every night, we’re known as a couple around town. What am I waiting for?
“It sounds silly for a fifty-five-year-old woman to have a boyfriend. He’s a man friend,” Pam said with just a touch of sarcasm in her voice, making the notion authentic. She didn’t want anyone to mistake what Dave was—he was nothing more than a companion. She’d held off sleeping with him because she had AIDS, and exposing him just wasn’t worth the risk. They were extremely fond of each other; he would be the first to admit that the word “fondness” spoke volumes. They did not love each other romantically. She still didn’t trust him enough with a key to her house. He was forbidden to visit her on the rare hospital trips she made when a chronic blood condition put her at risk because she didn’t want him to see her when she wasn’t at her best. He was welcome to accompany her on trips to Los Angeles, where she would meet her daughter from Hawaii at the home of her son, a UCLA graduate employed in Pasadena.
Slowly, Pam was carving out a new life for herself without Jack. She’d found the strength to move beyond his legacy to her: infidelity, betrayal, and AIDS. She’d lost Marie, her sister and lifetime friend, to AIDS-related disease almost a year earlier, leaving behind a sweet little girl. Miranda, now just a year old, lived with her father, Steve and grandmother, Nelda in a Greenwich Village brownstone and was a frequent visitor to Pam’s beach house on Long Island. Pam’s life was full with travel west and the visits of family and friends, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was simply biding her time until she died. It would be a relief, but she kept it to herself so no one would be watching her too closely as they were apt to do anyway. She went through the motions of living. Her mother, Nelda, had aged dramatically after Marie’s death, but having to care for Miranda helped her regain some of what she had lost. She was doing penance for having neglected Marie when she was a small girl, trying to reverse fortunes by making up for it now. Pam withdrew from the Steve–Nelda–Miranda triangulation. She supported them by providing the house in the Village and weekends at the beach, but the need and the capability to give more vanished.
There was a fine line between selfishness and altruism, and Pam tried to navigate it daily, not willing to give at her own expense. Grieving for her sister turned out to be more difficult than doing so for her husband. Marie had betrayed her by sleeping with Jack for years, but it seemed inconsequential once she was dead. Marie was the only female friend Pam had ever had. She avoided thinking about her most of the time, but there were moments at night that she found impossible to get through without at least one good cry. Poor Marie, she never had a chance at a happy life. And now this adorable little girl who looked exactly like she did at that age would grow up without knowing her mother. It might be for the best considering Marie’s craziness.
Dave took Pam’s hand and squeezed it as the plane approached the airport, getting lower and lower to the ground. He knew landing frightened Pam, but she was combating it by looking out the window and watching as the tiny houses down below got bigger and bigger.
“Glad to be home?” he asked. She nodded her head. As much as she missed her children, Brent and Lisa, it was always nice to get home. Getting their suitcases and taking the shuttle to the remote lot where they left Dave’s car took what little energy she had left, so as they pulled into the Village of Babylon, Pam asked Dave if he minded leaving her alone.
“I’m beat and just want to get into bed,” she explained. She could see he was disappointed, but he’d get over it. So when they got to her house, he unloaded her bags for her and put them inside the front door but didn’t come in. She’d trained him well. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for understanding,” she said. “And for going with me.” She didn’t mind traveling alone, but Dave acted as a buffer between her and her children, something she never thought she would need but now would be frightened without. They were both angry at the discovery that their father had given their mother AIDS. But Pam knew it was just an excuse they were making for what was the real issue: They knew all along that Jack was sleeping with Marie and couldn’t believe that Pam didn’t know. Lisa had suggested as much during the first Thanksgiving they spent without Jack.
“You’re telling us you didn’t know?” Lisa had asked her mother, her voice rising with each sentence. “I find that hard to believe.” Eventually she calmed down, asking Pam to forgive her for her disrespect, but something had shifted. The children were cordial, even welcoming, when she went to California to see them, but the intimacy, love, and warmth they once had was not in evidence. Lisa had asked Pam to meet her in L.A. rather than coming to Oahu over Christmas. Neither child had been home in over a year, refusing to come when Marie died because it would be too difficult to leave school during finals. Then they made excuses not to come home during the holidays. Finally, Pam approached Brent about getting together, and he agreed that it would be OK if they were together on neutral ground. Sadly, feeling she wasn’t even welcome at her children’s homes, she rented a house near Brent’s in Pasadena.
The first trip she took was shortly after Marie died. Lisa had met her mother at the airport and dropped the bomb: She was going to stay at Brent’s instead of with Pam. They’d both made excuses not to see her the day she’d arrived, telling her to rest up from her trip. Lisa was rude to her on the phone, and then Brent didn’t answer her calls and didn’t return them. After two days alone, Pam decided she wasn’t going to allow them to treat her with such apathy, and she called a family meeting.
“I’m pret
ty sure I know what’s going on with you two, and since I came all the way from New York and you’re avoiding me, I might as well go home.” The children were surprised their mother had taken a stand; they were sure she would cave in to any of their demands to make restitution for wrongs they had imagined she committed.
“Mom, I’m not ready to attend a big family gathering,” Lisa said.
“You, Brent, and me are not a ‘big family gathering,’” Pam replied. “You’re both annoyed with me, but you’ll get over it. And I’m not willing to spend a week by myself in a rented house.” And then she said something she never, ever thought she would say: “Both of you live off money your father left, money he worked himself to death to make. If you can’t show some respect for me, I’m withdrawing my support. You can get student loans to finish school, or get a job, or do whatever students do who don’t have big trust funds. Anyway, I’ve had it with both of you. You decide what it’s going to be.” Although Brent was finished with undergrad, he wanted to go on and get a master’s degree.
“I don’t think that’s fair!” he shouted. “If Dad were alive, he’d make sure I got what I needed for school.”
Pam laughed out loud. “If your dad was alive,” she said, “we’d be divorced, and he’d be married to Sandra. So don’t tell me what your dad would do. I never told you this because it was none of your business, but the last time I saw your dad, he didn’t even say goodbye to me. He got up and left for the city without waking me up. And the reason he didn’t come home Friday night before the Memorial Day party was because he was spending the night with Sandra. He was with her Saturday morning. Marie saw them on the street together, and after they separated, he collapsed on the train. So rethink what your dad would do. He might not give a rat’s ass if you went to grad school, Brent,” she said, reverting to her Brooklyn roots. “He’d be with his new wife and family, living in the city.” Pam stopped, shocked at the words she spoke to her children. And then she surprised them further when she said she’d had enough of their disrespect and if they cared so little for what was left of their family, she’d leave for home the next morning. It would be up to them if they ever saw each other again, but she certainly wasn’t coming back to California to be treated in such a way.
Family Dynamics: Pam of Babylon Book #5 Page 3
