Don't You Forget About Me (21 page)

She took Marie by the hand. “Come have a little dinner. I ordered in from Romeo’s.”

“Yum! Let me change into my sweatpants, okay? How do you feel? You look better, that’s for sure!” She walked toward her room, Pam following.

“Can you believe that Andy saw me looking like that? I don’t mind telling you I was a little annoyed that he was even called.”

It was a rare thing for Pam to criticize Sandra to her. Marie resisted commenting. Maybe Pam just needed to vent.

“I sort of told him I can’t see him anymore.”

“Oh Pammy, you liked him! You deserve to have someone in your life.” She didn’t add,
Who isn’t a jerk
.

“Oh well, as Jack used to say, ‘it is what it is.’ Get changed, and I’ll fix you a plate. Chicken parmesan. I might have a bite myself.”

Marie changed into her sweats, and the two women got their food and went out on the veranda. Pam had candles lit and wine poured for her sister. Pam shouldn’t drink anymore. She didn’t feel well enough to that night, but knew the day might come where she would miss it, that having a glass of wine would be all she desired.

“No wine for you?” Marie noticed right away.

“No.” There was plenty of time for explanations later. Pam wanted her sister to eat. “Can you believe the weather we have had? It’s been perfect here at the beach every day.”

“I miss it here. It’s so hot and miserable in town; my air conditioner was on the fritz on Monday. I thought I would suffocate, and of course, the windows don’t open up on the high floors. This breeze feels great.”

They ate in silence. Marie was tired, and Pam was about ready to keel over.

“Honey, I have something to tell you.” Pam made the decision that she had to tell her sister the truth and had to do it right then. But the second it was out of her mouth, she lost her nerve, petrified, couldn’t find the words.
How do you tell your baby sister that she might have AIDS?

Marie was looking at her, waiting. “What is it Pam? Please tell me.” She put her fork down and reached over, grasping Pam’s arm. “You can tell me anything, you know that. You
have
told me anything.”

Pam looked down, resigned. Her entire body language spoke of defeat. “I have AIDS.” There. It was out.
The words hung in the air, alive, dangerous. She had said it out loud for the second time that day. AIDS.

“What do you mean?” Marie was clearly confused, in shock.
I know what she just said, but it isn’t registering. Pam can’t have AIDS. Whores and drug addicts get AIDS. Poor people. The immoral
. All the unfortunate generalities trailed through Marie’s mind, and none of them fit Pam. Her beautiful, healthy sister, perfect in mind and body, obsessed with fitness and nutrition, and loyal! She would
never
have had an affair! “It’s a mistake!” she stated. “There is no way! Who could you have gotten AIDS from, anyway? You don’t shoot up; you never cheated on Jack! There is no way!” She repeated it again and again,
No way, no way
.

Pam didn’t expect this reaction. She thought Marie would rail against Jack, throw things, and possibly go berserk in rage against him. But she wasn’t even thinking of him! “Marie! Listen to me! Jack gave me HIV! You could have it, too! Sandra has it; she found out today! Jack gave Sandra HIV! You have to get tested, Marie. You have to pull yourself together so you can get a test tomorrow. Do you understand what I am saying? It was Jack.”

Marie was in shock, her face bright red, mouth hanging open like a crazy person. “But Jack loved you, Pam! He wouldn’t give you AIDS! I know he loved you! He told me many, many times!”

Pam couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Marie must be losing it. Pam started laughing! She was screaming laughing, with her mouth wide open and no sound coming out. “Jack didn’t love me! It was impossible, Marie! He wasn’t capable of love. You have to pull yourself together,” she repeated. “You have to go tomorrow so you can get
tested. You might just have HIV, not AIDS. They think I have AIDS now because of the shock of the past months. It’s new, the AIDS is new. It is much better to have HIV if you have to have this. Do you hear me? But you have to get treatment. I’m sorry, Marie!” Pam started crying. “I’m so, so sorry. This is my fault as much as Jack’s. I drove him to you. I neglected to see it. I ignored the signs. It’s my fault. I can’t live with myself if I don’t face this right now. I have to face my responsibility in the horror of it.” She blew her nose on her napkin. “I have to tell my kids. I have to tell my kids that their beloved father, the man they worshiped, gave their mother AIDS. They will figure it out for themselves that he was the worst kind of monster, because they aren’t dumb, those two children of mine. When they find out you have it, they will figure it out, you can be sure of it. The baby and Sandra, you and me.” She bowed her head and, in anguish, sobbed. Her heart was broken now. She had heartache before, sadness beyond anything she could have ever imagined, but now she knew her heart was damaged beyond repair.

“I had to give Andy the boot, more for his safety than anything else, but also because I am so damaged. I doubt if I am capable of love anymore. I can’t even imagine it. The thought of sharing my life makes me sick.”

Marie listened to her sister ramble on and on, knowing that what she was saying was important, even meaningful, but it really was worthless now. Jack had betrayed her with Sandra. He had a cruel streak that was for sure.
But this? To knowingly give another human being HIV, with the entire stigma? What a motherfucker!
She was glad he was dead so she wouldn’t have to kill him. She thought she
might be capable of it right this minute. She imagined shooting him with a gun, in the head. She saw the bullet tearing through his forehead, slamming him backward, and pieces of skull with gray hair attached to it flying all over. Or grabbing a huge knife, like the one Bill used on her mother, and stabbing him repeatedly in the chest. She could imagine the resistance of the tip of the blade, going through his clothes, skin, bones, and then plunging into him right up to the hilt. She saw the paper, the headlines: “LI Man Stabbed By Sister-in-law Forty-two Times. The arrest and then the trial, with her sitting at a table in front of the courtroom, her hair pulled back in a ponytail with a black barrette. Andy Andrews would be there as the detective on the scene. He would testify on her behalf.
Your Honor, he gave her AIDS
.

“Marie! Oh God, Marie, wake up, honey, wake up! Marie!” Pam was yelling at her, slapping her face, hard. “I should have killed Jack before he did this to you!”

“Stop hitting me! I’m awake!” She opened her eyes to find her sister kneeling over her, hysterical crying like she had never seen Pam. “I’m okay, Pam!” She struggled to sit up and grabbed her sister. “I’m okay! Pull yourself together, Sis! For God’s sake, this isn’t good for you to be so upset.”

They sat on the floor together, holding each other, and Marie finally let loose and began to cry, too. They cried for Brent and Lisa, for Sandra and her baby, and for each other, but mostly they cried for Jack, because he was already dead.

28

T
om Adams got off his shift at 7:00 p.m. and decided to take the subway up to Sandra’s. It was easier for him to ride the train than drive up to her apartment. Traffic would be horrible in the morning if he stayed the night. He knew he was pushing things with her. They had only known each other for four days. The connection between them was instantaneous, and she had felt it, too. How two people find each other at a certain time of life, regardless of the circumstances, was a miracle. Although he was raised Episcopalian, he started going to the Catholic church around the corner from his building. The liturgy, the mystical, magical part of what the Catholics believed in appealed to him after the brutal way he spent his life, tracking down thieves and murders, putting rapists and cheats behind bars. He believed that the timing was perfect, that Sandra had appeared in his life at the moment that God wanted her to be there. And it was up to him to accept it as a wonderful gift. Whether she was pregnant or not made no difference. He would adopt the baby if she would allow it.

He imagined their life together. In his mind’s eye, he saw a combination of their two apartments. It would have her homey decorating touch, spare and comfortable, with his flair for contemporary art. Her kitchen was too small, not much more than a closet. He would need a larger
space, a cook’s kitchen. Cooking was a passion of his, along with his love of coffee; he’d work at putting some meat on Sandra’s bones, cooking for her. She was a slender little thing. He got a shiver thinking about her.

The train was hot and smelly. He didn’t ride that often, and even though he had spent his life in the city, every time he rode it the smell of urine shocked him. He was not a snob, but public urination was something that he couldn’t tolerate. He never gave offenders a second chance. His father told him not to glamorize being a police officer. His job was to protect the laws of the land and that was it. He wasn’t going to change anyone by ignoring his main directive. New programs in the department that focused on teaching wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. It wasn’t up to them to teach.

Tom thought about his dad and how he changed after he had retired from the force. He lived in a perfect little cottage on the water with roses growing up a trellis in front, which he tended with precision.

No longer drinking, he was a sought-after speaker at AA meetings. Tom thought it might have been the most difficult part of him leaving his mother; someone else would be able to help him find his stride when she had been unable to. The “other woman” was a lovely person in her mid-forties, attractive, athletic, kind. Tom liked her, although he was careful to never mention her name around his mother and sisters. Gwen may have been his father’s soul mate.

What did those words mean? Tom remembered from childhood Sunday school that you were soul mates with God. But didn’t He want “woman for man” so He
would not be alone? His mother and father had never been together. They may have slept together and planned what was the best for their household, but they weren’t friends. If he was going to spend his life with someone, that person better be his friend, he decided.

The urine smell in the train was permeating his nostrils and, he was afraid, his clothes. Finally coming to his stop, he sprinted through the door and up the stairs to the cooler, but still hot and muggy air of an August night in New York. Walking up Broadway to Eighty-second Street, he understood what it was about this neighborhood that people loved. There was everything you needed, every cultural and spiritual venue within walking distance. Every ethnic food offering, fresh veggies and fruit stands, organic food stores and restaurants galore were there for the asking. If he were lucky enough to end up with Sandra as his lifetime mate, they would live up here if she wanted to.

He crossed Broadway and starting walking down Sandra’s street to her building. She didn’t know he was coming, and he understood the risk he was taking by surprising her with a visit. When he got to her building and knocked on her door, there was no answer at first. He looked at his wristwatch, thinking she might have been delayed. But it was past 8:00 p.m. He rang her bell again, and a very annoyed sounding Sandra said, “What do you want? I wish you would have called first.” But she did release the lock with its accompanied buzzer. Tom was instantly regretful that he had made her angry, but he was there and inside, no turning back now. Walking down the hallway to her door, he was a little nervous about seeing her. Standing at the doorway with the door open, he
expected a frown. But he was immediately concerned, if not a little surprised, that she was waiting there with a tear-stained face, holding her hand out to him. He took it and followed her inside, preparing to take her in his arms again to comfort her for whatever it was that had upset her so badly.

“
Don’t
kiss me,” she said, closing the door as she went into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He looked down at her, trying to see into her eyes, but she wasn’t cooperating.

“Come and sit down in the kitchen with me. I will make coffee; I bought a pot today.” She held up a shiny percolator coffee pot that made one cup at a time. “After I tell you what I have to tell you, you may not want me to make coffee for you. Tomorrow would have come soon enough; I had a plan. But you coming unannounced like this changes everything.” She looked him right in the eyes, finally.

He had gone from ecstasy at hearing that she cared enough about him to buy a coffee pot to fear that she was going to tell him to hit the road.
What the hell is going on?
In spite of whatever it was she had to say to him, he wanted to know. “Come sit next to me.” He pulled her over to the table and then onto his lap. “What is it? You can tell me anything, Sandra. What could be so bad?”

She covered her face with her hands and started crying again, standing up and moving away from him. She went to her bedroom and got a box of tissues. Now everything put him at risk, her runny nose, her tears. She had to tell him.

“I found out last night that I am HIV positive. My former boyfriend gave it to me.” Sandra put her head in her hands again and started sobbing, with shoulders heaving.

Tom was aghast. “What about the baby?” he asked.

“We won’t know until it’s born if it was passed on, but I will start taking the drugs tomorrow morning, and I’ll have a C-section. There will be just a slight chance then that the baby will be infected.” Uncharacteristically, she began to sob. Real heart-wrenching, choking sobs. “I am still so worried about the baby!”