Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (3 page)

Frank ignored the comment.

“I don’t see Nelda warming up to her, either.” Genoa Fabian liked her son’s wife, but she didn’t have any misconceptions about her. Nelda saw things a certain way and was unable to accept any other point of view. “Yes, I suppose I must come down. You know, it is getting more and more difficult to leave these three rooms,” she told him.

“You should move into Pam’s room when she leaves, Momma,” Frank replied. “I don’t like you so far up here, either.” He thought about the years when his father was alive and the two families lived under one roof. His mother had picked up the slack until Pam was old enough to help out. When the children were small, Frank left the house each morning at dawn, worried about whether his wife would get through the day without any problems. Now, from the lower floors of the house, they could hear female voices shouting, laughter, doors slamming. His four daughters were home.

“Dad? Nonny? Can I come up?” It was Pam, Genoa’s favorite grandchild. Genoa got up from her chair with the pep of a much younger woman and went to the door of her apartment. Hearing her granddaughter’s voice had transformed her. Opening the door, she called down the stairs.

“
Siamo qui, Pamela, vieni su
. We’re here, come up,
per favore
,” she said, waiting while Pam ran up the stairs. Pam’s radiance as she came through the apartment door brought a smile to her father and grandmother’s faces. She always seemed to float into a room. Of all the girls, she looked most like a Fabian, with the blonde good looks of Genoa’s Northern Italian heritage. Genoa had some German blood and she supposed that is where the light coloring came from. Pam had pale, almost alabaster skin; huge brown eyes; and long, black eyelashes. Her hair was golden, thick and wavy; the envy of the other three, who had dark, straight hair like Nelda’s. Pam was Genoa’s favorite, although she would deny it and the others ignored it. If it could be considered a flaw, Pam was shorter, barely five and a half feet, in a household of tall people. It made the rest of the family protective of her.

“Nonny, are you coming down tonight?” She hugged her grandmother, almost jumping up and down with excitment. “Dad, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you! Did Jack call you? Did he try to get in touch with you in any way?” Her eyes were sparkling, a smile almost as wide as her face betraying her attempt at composure.

She entered the sitting room, dragging her grandmother along by the hand. “He’s going to ask you tonight, Dad, Jack is. He’s going to ask you if we can get married.” She swung around to look at her grandmother. “I feel like a fool, but I am so thrilled and have to hide it from the others because they’ll tell him I am acting like this!” She started laughing, giggling almost, and Frank and Genoa laughed along with her. Frank knew when she said “the others,” that is was really about Nelda. She’d find a way to expose Pam’s excitement about her upcoming engagement. The only people on earth Pam felt safe with was her father and grandmother.

Genoa looked at her son, concerned.
The girl should be able to be herself in front of the young man, shouldn’t she?
Frank, as though reading his mother’s mind, frowned and shook his head no to his mother.

“He never got in touch, Pam. Did he tell you he was going to call me?” Frank asked.

“No, I just thought he might. Maybe he isn’t going to ask me tonight.” She had a doubtful expression on her face. “How embarrassing. I may have misunderstood him.” To be with Jack meant putting aside her need for emotional security. He was on the continuum of Pam’s unearned trust. He was more than domineering; he was both intimidating and secretive. She had to accept at face value that he wanted to be with her, that he loved her, that he thought she was special. For months she had observed him, had watched him watching her. Something about him spoke to that part of her that was confident, that said,
I am worth his adoration
. Pam had hidden strength and she didn’t yet know what its origins were. But she wanted Jack. She wanted what he was capable of giving her, which was more than financial security, the envy of other women, and a family. A marriage to him meant freedom from her roots. He made it clear from the beginning that he wanted someone to have his children and make him a home while he built his financial empire.

“Tell me now that you don’t want a life with me and we can end it. I won’t waste your time and you won’t waste mine,” he said. Pausing, and then putting his arm around her—they were sitting on his bed in his Midtown apartment—he went on. “Well, what do you think? Babies with me? The ride of your life? Or an ordinary existence. Plain. Blah. Boring. I guarantee you will never be bored with me.” Pam turned her head away from his eyes; she didn’t want him to see her smiling, almost smirking.
He had such a goddamned big ego!
She thought for just a second. What had been her one desire from the time she could recall memory? A home and a family completely different from the one she was born into.

“Yes, I want children. Two of them, a boy and a girl.” She stopped because possibly that was going too far. She’d been the recipient of his derision in the past over things she’d said. She held her breath.
What other kind of children were there
? she could hear him ask. But the ridicule didn’t come. She felt his body shaking; was he laughing at her? She slowly turned her head to look at him and he was crying, unabashedly sobbing, with tears rolling down his cheeks. She had never, ever seen a man cry before. Paralyzed, she didn’t move at first, not sure what to do for him. She took his hand and held it until he was able to calm down.

“Well, I’m a very lucky man if you really mean it,” he said. “I just imagined my kids. We can have two if you want. A boy and a girl.” He smiled at her, tightening his arm around her shoulder, not making fun of her as she had feared but agreeing with her. He saw their children in his mind’s eye. Two children who looked like them melded. In a split second he visualized a home they would make together with a sober, involved wife and mother and happy, well-adjusted children. “We should tell your parents. I don’t want to wait.”

He’d never said anything to her about getting engaged or married. She’d assumed it was what he meant. Now, the night was upon them and she didn’t have a clue what he was going to do once he got to her house. He was aware of their modest circumstances and it didn’t seem to bother him at all. Pam hated to admit to herself that she was ashamed of the way they lived, the shabby furniture and cheap knickknacks, the pervasive food odors. Her grandparents and parents put her through college; she should be grateful, not embarrassed.

“Genoa, is Pam with you?” Nelda yelled up the staircase.

“I’m here, Mom,” Pam yelled back.

“Can you get your shower up there? Ask your grandmother.” It was a constant shuffling of needs, trying to get four girls ready for an evening. “Ask Daddy to come down, will you please?” So their afternoon was interrupted; Frank had to vacuum and get his own shower before the important visitor showed up.

Miraculously, everyone was ready by six p.m. Genoa made it down the stairs in one piece, the house was neat, and dinner was ready when Jack Smith, son of Bernice and Harold Smith, arrived at the Bensonhurst home of his girlfriend, Miss Pamela Fabian. Pam met him at the door and was surprised when he swept her into his arms for a hug in front of her entire family. He appeared slightly red around the eyes, too. She hoped it was happiness and not regret that was making him cry. Without waiting to see if everyone was present, not really knowing who should be there anyway, he dove right in. He looked over at Frank first.

“With your permission, sir?” Then, getting down on one knee, he proposed to her. Nelda and Pam gasping, Genoa doing her best not to snicker, and the younger girls sighing in harmony, Jack pulled a ring box out of his side pocket and opened it, facing Pam. Frank almost fainted at the size of diamond.

“Pam, will you marry me?” he asked, not wasting any time.

As she had taught herself from the onset of their romance, she took it at face value. He didn’t say anything about loving her, about his feelings for her. Just “will you marry me?” Without hesitation, she answered yes.

He stood up, fighting back tears, and scooped her up in his arms again. The family clapped and cheered. It was a happy time! They were going to have a wedding.

“When’s the big day?” Nelda asked. She was sensible enough to know that she and Frank would not be responsible for the financial end of the wedding. If they were, the reception would be held in their Bensonhurst backyard. Jack looked down at Pam, hesitant to answer because Bernice had picked the date without conferring with the bride. Her reaction could determine whether the engagement would move forward.

“June 15,” he replied.

Pam’s face broke into a smile. “I’m going to be a June bride!” she said, trying not to jump up and down. She kept her enthusiasm in check as she had practiced since she was a small child until it became second nature, the result being that no one ever really knew what she was thinking, except perhaps, her father. If it crossed her mind that she wasn’t consulted about the date of her own wedding, she hid it well. Nelda was taken aback by the date, taking a surreptitious glance at her daughter’s abdomen.
What was the hurry?
With her hands behind her back, she counted the months. Not even slightly ashamed of her thoughts, as soon as they were done eating, Nelda got up from the table and started to clear the plates.

“Mom, we’ll do the clearing. Stay here so we can talk about the wedding plans,” Sharon said. Genoa was appalled. Nelda was not interested in the least and it showed. But Jack and Pam didn’t notice her behavior and went on talking about the wedding. Frank was interested and asked questions, prompting his daughter to think about who her attendants would be, her sisters; where they would honeymoon, Hawaii, of course; and where they would live.

“We haven’t talked about that yet,” Pam answered, but she looked at Jack.
He had everything else figured out. Did he know yet where they would live as husband and wife?

Jack didn’t hesitate. “The Upper West Side. Not Columbus Avenue, further west. He looked at Pam, gauging her reaction. Once again, he was on target. He had chosen his new partner wisely. Pam was smiling happily at him, nodding her head yes to everything he said.

The Upper West Side? If he wanted to live there, what reason could she have not to want to join him? It was like a dream. After living in Brooklyn all of her life, hiding her enthusiasm for life from her pessimistic mother, making it to Manhattan was a dream come true. She would realize later that living there had its drawbacks.

Marie left her chair next to her Nelda and moved over to where Pam sat. They assumed their usual posture, Marie standing alongside a sitting Pam. Marie would have to consciously remind herself as an adult that it was inappropriate to cling to her sister. But as a child, it was her birthright. The only reason she sat next to her mother during the meal was so that Nelda could clamp a hand over her daughter’s mouth if she started to say anything that might embarrass the family. But tonight she was quiet and well-behaved. She thought Jack was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to miss out on the plans. Would she be included? A little trickle of fear brewed in her chest; what would become of her if Pam got married and moved out? She would ask Pam as soon as Nelda was out of earshot and everyone else was occupied. In the meantime, she stuck like glue to her sister’s side and Jack didn’t seem to mind a bit.

.

3

A
week later, as Jack left the restaurant to head uptown to his mother’s, Ashton Hageman lingered over his coffee. He’d pulled himself together and morphed back into the dependable lover who never made demands and had no needs. Jack seemed happy with the recovery, literally patting him on the head as he got up to leave.

“You’ll see. Everything will work out. And you’ll love Pam. Call me tonight.” And then the humiliating pat. Ashton asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. He wasn’t going to waste any time rationalizing why it would be okay to continue a relationship with Jack, and why it would be devastating to his well-being to do so. He was hopelessly in love. It would be easier to leave things as they were and try to adapt. Breaking up with Jack wasn’t an option. He would rather die.

Jack had paid the check on his way out, so when he finished his coffee, Ash threw a tip down and left quickly through the back door. He wasn’t in the mood to run into friends and as the afternoon progressed, there was a greater chance that he would see someone he recognized from the close circle who knew Jack and Ashton as a couple.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. The leaves on the few trees along the sidewalk had changed and were beginning to fall, and chrysanthemums and pumpkins were everywhere. When he reached his neighborhood, he stopped at a corner store and sorted through a box of pumpkins displayed outdoors on the pavement, the closest he would get to a farmer’s market on the Upper East Side. He found a small, perfectly round one that had a little dried stem on top. It would be his one gesture to the season. Walking up Fifth Avenue, he was happy that he’d chosen this area to live in, rather than Midtown where Jack lived, or Downtown, which had the reputation of being more liberal than his neighborhood. He was isolated up here. His neighbors were older and wealthy. The women in his building doted on him, no one questioning why he was alone on weekend nights, or about the handsome guy who came by but never stayed long.

Arriving at his building, he remembered how lucky he’d felt to have found his apartment. At the time, he wasn’t even looking for a place to buy. He was out of college and wanted to stay uptown because it was where he grew up, his parents still close by. He arrived at Seventy-Second Street and walked the few hundred feet to his front door, the entrance to a prewar building that had been restored and renovated to classic beauty.

He got on the elevator, relieved to be alone, and the moment the doors slid shut he began to cry again. Grateful that the hallway to his apartment was empty, he quickly made his way to the apartment door. Unlocking it, he stumbled over the threshold, but not before seeing the view out his window. It was a straight shot from the door though the living room to a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. He could see the tops of the trees along Seventy-Second; a few golden and orange leaves still hanging on, and the blue sky and sunlight between the buildings across the street. He put the pumpkin down on the floor and went right to the windows. They were surrounded by ornate moldings. The beauty of the windows brought unexplainable happiness to him. Possibly that was why he had failed so miserably at human relationships; the superficial beauty of a selfish man brought him the only joy he experienced. Leaning against the windows with his head resting on his forearm, Ashton breathed deeply; one, two, three breaths. The stress of the encounter with Jack lingered, but his resolve to deal with it, to shun the hopelessness of being alone and in love strengthened. He could see the East River and Roosevelt Island. Jack said their life together would not change much. Their friends would protect them from exposure; it wasn’t uncommon to have to hide relationships. The embarrassment of being in love with a married man was yet to be experienced. Nobody in their group gave it a thought when Jack was seen with women. But to marry Pam and still be dating Ash; well, he’d have to see how that played out, what his tolerance was.