Pam of Babylon (20 page)

“Honey, you better get dressed before your sister wakes up,” he said and, not until a second later, withdrew his hand.

She was trembling, frightened at the intensity of her physical response, but followed orders and closed her robe. He got up, clearly excited by the straining of his erection in his sweatpants, and went into the kitchen to get something to drink.

She went back to her room and got dressed. When she returned to the kitchen, he asked her what she wanted for dinner, smiling at her as though nothing had happened, because nothing really had. They decided to make Mexican food to surprise Pam when she and the kids woke up from their nap.

It was a fun dinner. Pam and Jack drank wine, and they were more animated than usual, Pam following Jack’s lead as she always did. Once again, she would benefit from the presence of her little sister.

That night, their lovemaking woke Marie up. She could hear Jack’s voice murmuring and the squeaking of the bed. She got up and tiptoed out of her room and down the hall, kneeling down on the floor to peek through the keyhole of their ancient bedroom door. She could see clearly; they had a bedside light on. Pam’s legs were spread wide, and Jack was lying over the edge of the bed with his head right “there.”

Not yet familiar with oral sex, Marie had no idea what was going on, until Pam came. She started moaning, and Jack grabbed her hips with his hands. Marie could see his head bobbing around. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what he was doing. Next, he got up on his knees, with his legs spread, the teenager able to see his scrotum hanging down and see him grab his own penis and put it into his wife. Pam’s legs were wrapped around Jack’s waist. Marie was fascinated. They started rocking together, and before long, Jack grunted and that was that. He must have been done, because he got off her and stood up at the side of the bed.

Marie realized that he was going to come out of the bedroom to use the bathroom, so she vaulted, on tiptoe, back to her room. It took a moment for her to assimilate everything she had just seen, and when she did, the laughing started. She buried her head in her pillow, screaming laughing. She heard Jack at her door, peeking in to see if she was sleeping and closing the door. She heard him going back to his room. She was laughing so hard tears were rolling down her check. She had to blow her nose. Sex was so funny.
What was God thinking when he made that?
There was nothing beautiful about it at all. It was in the same league as going to the bathroom.

She debated whether or not she would say anything to him and decided not to because she wanted to watch again, and if he knew, he might block the view. She couldn’t recall knowing they were doing it before that night.

Marie got to her apartment. She switched on a light and picked up her mail. There were mostly bills, a few ads, and a few cards—people, friends sending sympathy. It was already late, she wanted to get a few things done before bedtime, so she took her shower and put her pajamas on.
What to have for dinner tonight?
Food was a constant problem for Marie. She loathed eating alone. If anyone asked her to go to lunch during the week, she jumped at the chance. She would eat heartily, and then if dinner were meager, or skipped altogether, she wouldn’t be starving to death. It looked like the best she could do was some cheese and crackers, some crudités, and a can of diet soda. She put everything on a big dinner plate, and picking up a book and the sympathy cards, she went into her bedroom and switched on the bedside lamp. She would sit up in bed and read and eat.

She popped open her can of soda and picked up the first card. It was a trite, religious card, the front printed with a dove and the words, “He knows your pain.” On the inside, the writer said, “I know Jack will always be in your heart.” She put it down and put her head back on the headboard. Closing her eyes, she thought about another day at the park weeks after the tennis match.

Pam didn’t want to go, so Jack and Marie and the two kids took a blanket and a picnic basket and walked to the playground. After they ate, they pushed the kids on the swings, ran after them, pushed them on the merry-go-round, played Frisbee, and both of them exhausted, fell asleep on the blanket. Jack was reading a book for school; Marie was lying on her back, her eyes closed, and hands across her stomach.

She felt Jack spread a blanket across her, and then he moved in close to her, lying on his side, eyes closed. He slipped his hand under the blanket and onto her knee. His hand slipped up her leg, moving to the inside of her shorts. She ever so slightly moved her legs apart, one eye on the sleeping children.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “no one is around.” He pushed her legs a little farther apart. His fingers slipped under the elastic of her underpants. She forgot her earlier derision of sex. He snickered. “You like that?” he asked. It took her about ten seconds to reach the conclusion that she had just been molested by her brother-in-law and that the ramifications of it could have devastating consequences for him—
if
she told, that is. He didn’t seem to get that, never asked her to keep it a secret, and acted like it was his duty to take care of her since she flashed him the day of the tennis match. She threw the blanket off of her and sat up. They weren’t exactly alone, but she didn’t think anyone noticed them messing around under the cover.

“Let’s wake the kids up and head back home,” she said. She got up and straightened her clothing and started getting things packed away so they could go home. Jack put his arm around her shoulder as they walked home, she pushing the double stroller, he carrying the picnic basket. Even at that young age she thought of the futility of their relationship. It would never be anything more than game-playing. When they got back to the apartment, Pam was sitting in a chair with her feet up, reading. She looked so happy and refreshed.

“So, here’s my family!” She bent over to take the kids out of the stroller. “Did my babies have fun?” she asked. “I certainly had fun! Thank you, both of you! It was a wonderful, relaxing afternoon. Did you two have fun? Or was it awful?”

“No, it was fine,” Jack said. “After we played a while, I read my book, and the kids got a little nap in.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in preparation for dinner and a night of movie-watching. Marie felt slightly miffed at Jack, though. It was a scene that would replay itself over and over again in their life together. Jack would use her in some way and then act beatific, as though he were serving some noble purpose for mankind. Seeing Pam and Jack interacting, recognizing the afternoon for what it was, a step over an invisible boundary of trust and unforgivable behavior, Marie lost it.

“I don’t feel good,” she announced before dinner. “I want to go home.” Pam rushed to her, patting her and hugging her, while Jack made a display of concern.

“Here, sit down, Marie, you are probably dehydrated.” Pam reached for a pitcher of water.

“No, I really want to go home.” This was a first. Pam was really concerned and began to get suspicious.

“Did something happen at the park?” Pam looked right at Jack. Jack lied through his teeth, he was so smooth.

“Not that I know of. What’s wrong, Marie?” Marie would wonder for years after that Pam didn’t recognize the insincerity in Jack’s voice. He cared less whether she was okay or not. The sad fact was she couldn’t answer him. After that day, she often thought that if she had made a stand, insisting that they take her home or that her parents came to get her, that her life would have been vastly different. Jack had his hand on her arm and was applying pressure, not squeezing it, but just enough weight so she would know to keep her mouth shut. She felt a tear behind her eye but controlled it. If she started crying now, it would all come spilling out—the spying, seeing them making love, Jack fondling her. All hell would break loose. Instead, she clammed up and stayed with them after all. Later that night, Jack made love to his wife, thinking about Marie, and Marie watched them through the keyhole. Eventually, he would come to her bed at night, and she allowed it, initiated it, and encouraged it, night after night, year after year, losing herself in the process.

Cheese and crackers finished, Marie opened the drawer in her night table and pulled out a Milky Way. She ate the chocolate off the top and then nibbled the candy bar, savoring it until the last bite. It was wonderful. There were so few pleasures in life, so few delights.

27

T
he next morning, after spending a comfortable evening at home, which included reading through a compelling mystery and having a glass of wine on her veranda before bed, Pam woke up refreshed and rested. She was excited about spending the day in the city. As she dressed, it occurred to her that she should pack a bag and spend a few days. She could have lunch with Sandra, dinner with Marie and Bernice, go to the library, the museums, she could be a real tourist. That settled it.

Bags packed, she had enough clothing, underwear, and accessories for a month in Paris. She was as happy as she could remember being in a long while.

Looking around her house to make sure everything was in place before she left for her overnighter, she took one last look at the beach. It would be there when she got home the next day. She poured herself a cup of coffee in her travel mug and picked up her purse. Coming back to drag her bags out and lock up, she glanced at Jack’s Lexus in the garage as she closed the trunk of her car. It dawned on her that for the years she and Jack lived apart during the week, she never went into the city to see him with the excitement she felt now. That made her sad. She wondered if it had bothered him that she never visited.

Getting into the car, she opened the sunroof and turned the radio on. She felt like listening to familiar music from her youth. The idea that her comfortable little life, and that is what it seemed to her now, a little life, would soon be coming to an end, grew as she got closer to the city. Sandra would make it impossible for her to “stick her head in the sand” anymore. Pam hated that phrase. Marie used it all the time. “Get your head out of the sand, Pam,” she would say. Jack would come to her defense. “You’re fine, Pam. Shut up, Marie.” There was some truth to it, however hated it was. Pam had her head in the sand. Her husband had an affair right under her nose. He had changed his will without telling her. The information about Harold not being his father was never shared with her. She wondered what else she would discover before it was over.

As she drove, she remembered what living in the city had been like. As a child growing up in Brooklyn, getting to the city was a goal to be reached. No one wanted to stay in Brooklyn in her crowd. And then she met Jack. He was from a wealthy family who lived right by the park in a mansion. She found she could fit in if she just looked good, kept her mouth shut, and didn’t share her opinions.

By the time she and Jack got married, she no longer had any opinions. They would live in the city because that was always what he had done. He went to school and started his successful business there. But secretly, she hated it. She hated the crowds, the expectations, the playacting of the day-trippers, the women in their look-a-like suits and briefcases, the men trying to look like Ralph Lauren models—it was all too much. All she really wanted to do was quit her job and start a family.

Not working brought with it a whole package of unwanted activities. She was expected to join the Junior League, volunteer for charity events, and raise money for only God knew what needy proposition. Having Bernice for a mother-in-law would further lower Pam’s self-confidence. Nothing she did was ever correct or enough. The first years of her marriage were spent trying in vain to please her. Bernice was a perfectionist of the obsessive-compulsive variety. She employed a staff of cleaning ladies who were continuously cleaning and polishing her huge, empty house. When they were finished there, she sent them to her sons’ homes. Pam would have to spend the morning hiding anything she didn’t want thrown away or touched while an army of people she didn’t want scrubbed through her apartment. The humiliation and intrusion just had to be dealt with because she was also expected to entertain almost continuously. At least having a clean house was one less thing she had to worry about.

Pam stopped taking birth control pills the day Jack finished his master’s thesis. She wanted a baby so badly. Jack did his best to impregnate her, coming home midday to have sex, never passing up a chance for lovemaking. “We were like a couple of rabbits,” he once said, teasing her.

Jack really loved Pam. She was completely unlike his mother, who was a strong, foreboding woman with high, uncompromising expectations for her sons. He loved his mother, too, though. Jack was a success at whatever he attempted. His mother loved him conditionally he thought, although she denied it. Her relationship with Jack was different than that of Bill’s. Bill was more his father’s son. He followed Harold into the family business, taking over when Harold retired, although he still made armchair decisions, something Jack never would had tolerated.