Pam of Babylon Read online

  Copyright © 2012 Suzanne Jenkins

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1-4611-3592-3

  ISBN-13: 9781461135920

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-4392-9042-2

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  1

  Jack Smith was thinking, I am the luckiest man alive. Sitting at a white-linen-covered table on the sidewalk outside of his favorite restaurant, he was gazing at the perfect face of his mistress of nine months. This place was “their” place. They’d spent a rare night together, and now, in the early morning they could sit and have a leisurely breakfast, enjoying the perfect weather of late May in New York.

  “What do you have to do this weekend?” Jack asked, knowing this could be a dangerous topic. Sandra was sipping her coffee, head bowed but eyes on him. She slowly put her cup down and straightened up. He really wanted to know. He was interested in her life outside of where it meshed with his.

  “After you leave, I think I’ll start getting ready for the week, and then I can relax tonight and tomorrow. Monday I’m having lunch at my sister’s in New Jersey. My schedule next week is fairly packed, so the more I can get done now, the easier it will be.” She thought of her messy apartment, the empty refrigerator, the pile of laundry, but didn’t mention it. Jack’s solution to it would be to say, Pay someone to do those things for you so you can do what you want. Your time is worth more than what it would cost. “One thing I would really like to do is get back to that gallery on Houston and see if there isn’t a deal I can work out for that piece we saw last night.” She smiled at Jack, and they both nodded their heads, remembering the vibrant painting of the Riverside Gardens. It was so colorful, the yellows and reds and blues exaggerated, the flowers oversized. They both loved it.

  “You should have said something while we were there!” he said, smiling at her. She knew he would have bought it then and there for her. But she really wanted to buy it for herself. She knew it was wise to keep things like “community property” out of their relationship.

  They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Soon, Jack would start fidgeting, pushing his chair back slightly, looking around him and fighting the urge to not look at his watch. Their time together would be over for now. Sandra would try to beat him to the punch; it was easier for her to be in control of this aspect of their life. His schedule would dictate when they could see each other, but she could be in charge of when it would end. She hated those last minutes while they waited for the check to come, feeling like she was sitting in a vacuum. Today was a little different, maybe because of the night before. It was so special having the evening together and then spending the night with him. The hotel was the same one they always used. It was clean and comfortable and—impersonal. But she didn’t allow herself to think of it.

  He suggested early on that they go to her apartment, but she didn’t know how long they would be together and didn’t want those associations in her home. It would be hard enough to end the relationship without memories of him permeating where she lived. No thank you. It would be bad enough having to see him at work every day. Besides, he was wealthy enough to afford a hotel, and she was worth it.

  He would not have argued if he knew what she was thinking. On one hand, he was wondering what was taking so long to get the check as he had a lot to do at home today, but on the other he would miss her terribly. It took all the strength he had not to pout like a child when he was away from her. He thought of his home, close to the sea, the smell of salt air. He imagined the two of them sitting on the veranda overlooking the beach grass. But the face of his wife kept popping up on Sandra’s body as he thought of this, not allowing anyone to take her place, even in his thoughts.

  She walked him to the subway, refusing to have him walk her home first. He preferred the subway over taking a cab. She would shop on the way home, and he had a long commute, over an hour to his home on Long Island. They walked arm in arm, a striking couple to look at. He mature, graying at the temples and in good shape for his age; she young, model thin and beautiful. Heads turned to look. Were they famous? The attention they got when they were out in public together pleased them, and they became even more animated, laughing, standing up straighter, happiness radiating from them both.

  On Broadway, another observer took note of the radiant couple. Jack’s sister-in-law, Marie waited in the Saturday-morning bagel line at H&H. She happened to be uptown because of having gone to the theatre the night before with her friend Arthur, and staying the night at his apartment. Marie stood with her mouth open, heat. Marie stood with her mouth open, heat spreading through her body, shocked and furious. The man behind her tapped her on the shoulder; it was her turn already.

  “Never mind, go ahead,” she said as she moved out of line. Her body turned toward her brother-in-law as his back and that of his companion continued down the street toward the subway. She inched along the pavement staying close to the storefronts, not wanting to be seen, but dying to see. When they reached the subway the woman, a girl really, didn’t go down the stairs with him. Marie found it incredible that Jack was going to take the subway. What the hell was that all about? The couple stood at the entrance to the stairs talking, his arm around her shoulder protectively. It was clear that they were a couple, not just work associates, not just friends.

  Standing out of sight in a doorway, Marie could barely tolerate the physical sensations she was experiencing. Her entire body was vibrating. It was a combination of disgust, shock, and excitement. She had loved Jack as her brother. She was certain her sister Pam, had no idea her husband was cheating on her. Pam would have said something. Marie didn’t yet think of the implications this would have on her relationship with her sister. If she didn’t know, it would remain that way because Marie wasn’t going to tell her. She would confront Jack and insist he tell Pam. That was the only way. Let him do the dirty work. Her patience paid off; Jack took the girl into his arms. He didn’t look around first to see if they were being observed, although this was a neighborhood in which his relatives lived. Then they kissed. He kissed her passionately; she reached up and with her arms around him, kissed him back. They parted, reluctance obvious to all who looked upon them, intimacy flourishing in a public place.

  Jack went down the subway stairs, looking behind him and smiling. The young woman stood there smiling down at him, waiting to move away until he was out of sight.

  Marie watched as the young woman, beautiful in a white sundress, turned her back to the stairs and starting walking up Broadway. Marie didn’t have all day to play detective, but she knew that for her sister’s sake, she would need to find out as much as she could about this person. So she followed her, supposing she was headed for home but having
no way of knowing. She stayed about half a block behind her. Watching her from the back, she made mental notes: tall; slender (of course); long, dark hair. Marie thought the woman should be blonde, but that didn’t make any sense. She told herself to just keep walking. When they got to 80th Street, the woman crossed the street and went into Zabar’s. There was no way Marie was going in there. She would wait outside for a few minutes. She didn’t have all day. If the woman was doing a big shopping trip Marie would leave. She stood across Broadway watching, not wanting to miss it when she left the store. She looked up at the sky; she could see blue between the buildings, sunlight peeking down from the east. It was going to be a beautiful weekend. Memorial Day was Monday. Marie was going to her sister’s house on Long Island for a picnic. She had been looking forward to it all month. Now this.

  The young woman stepped out of Zabar’s with two bags of groceries. She turned left and started walking up Broadway again, with Marie following closely behind. When she got to 82nd Street she turned left, walking toward West End. It figures, Marie thought, remembering her own apartment in no-man’s land. About midway down the block she made another left and walked up to a lovely beige-brick mid-century. She turned the key in the lock, opening the door and disappeared from sight. Marie stood in the center of the sidewalk, disappointed. Well, she had an address, just in case.

  She walked back to Broadway thinking all the way. She wanted to call Jack’s cell and tell him off. Suddenly, she was overcome with nausea. She moved to the curb and threw up in the gutter.

  2

  Pam Smith was puttering around her light-filled kitchen early on Saturday morning. Jack had spent a rare Friday night in the city. He loved to get home after being gone all week. Once in a while he would come home midweek, in spite of the lengthy commute. She had all week to prepare for his homecoming. She went to the gym every day, had her hair and nails done and stocked the fridge with his favorite foods. The house was in good order. There was rarely anything that he needed to attend to; she tried to make it an oasis for him. They could rest, play tennis, go for walks on the beach, and have a mini vacation.

  This weekend would be spent in preparation for the annual Memorial Day picnic they hosted. Friends and family would come from all over the tri-state area. Pam had the cleaning lady air out the guest quarters above their garage. Their nieces and nephews could bunk in the kids’ rooms; Lisa was in L.A. for the summer, doing some kind of internship, and Brent was staying at school until July, doing extra work to make next year a little easier. Her kids would be missed on Monday.

  Marie would stay over, as would both Mom and Jack’s mom. The house would be full. Pam had arranged for the bed-and-breakfast down the beach from them to take the overflow from the house. Everyone would come the next afternoon and stay through Monday night. Marie and Mom might even stay through until Tuesday.

  Pam had planned what everyone would eat down to the last crumb. She loved that sort of thing. She did her food shopping on Friday morning and would pick up fresh vegetables and fish on Sunday. She couldn’t wait for Marie to come; they would run all over town shopping together for last minute party items.

  Pam was ten years older than Marie. Marie was there for her while Jack was in grad school, during the lean times, through two pregnancies. She was her mother’s helper when the kids were little; never turning down an opportunity to stay with Pam and Jack on the Upper West Side when school was out for the summer. She eventually got her own apartment Midtown. When they left the city for the island, she wept. She knew she would be welcome to visit every weekend and holiday, but there was something so nice about being able to drop in for coffee in the morning or run to a last-minute movie.

  Pam rarely came into the city. Although her friends told her she would probably be in every weekend for shows during the fall and winter, the truth was that she never really enjoyed the nightlife and once they moved, the apartment became Jack’s private domain while he worked during the week. He left Babylon for work Monday morning and stayed in town unless he got homesick for the beach house and his wife. Rarely, he would come home in the middle of the week and leave early the next morning.

  He never asked Pam to visit him in the city. Their relationship had lost that urgency of needing each other. Once or twice when they were first separated during the week, she had woken in the night crying, reaching out to his side of the bed. If that had happened in their youth, he or she would have picked up the phone for reassurance and connection. When had that stopped being necessary?

  Lately, Pam had been a little worried about Jack. There was a tiny, itsy bit of doubt, a niggling worry, an insecurity in the back of her mind. He was disconnected from her. He still seemed eager to get home and reluctant to return to the city, but that stemmed more from his love of the house she had made for him and the peace and quiet of the beach. He never reached out for her anymore, didn’t hold her in bed at night, and hadn’t initiated sex in months.

  She didn’t notice it at first. She made love to him when she needed to and left him alone when she didn’t. And that was where the worry came in. Unless she reached out for him, they didn’t do it. At first, she thought it might be his age. They were both nearing fifty-five. She didn’t dare complain to him. What man’s ego could take that from a middle-aged wife?

  Those worries were buried in the busyness and anticipation of his return home every Friday night. She made mental lists of plusses and minuses; it was enough that he came home to her. But she’d noticed another change. He started being very picky about what he ate when he was home. In the past, a big steak, a baked potato and a salad with blue cheese dressing would make him happy. He loved her home-baked bread and pies. Now, he seemed to be counting calories. He didn’t come right out and say he wouldn’t eat something she had prepared, but she noticed he watched the size of the proportions, ate more salad, and used less dressing. He skipped dessert. Then he requested more vegetable dishes, even fish.

  He started working out at her gym; one day he just showed up while she was there. It should’ve been enough of a warning sign, but when she said something to him about it, teasing him because of all the years she invited him to come, he told her that their family doctor recommended he lose some weight, that he was a walking heart attack. She was frightened. Now watching him eat a veggie burger was a contradiction.

  The day before, he had called her after lunch and said he was staying in town that night because he had a late meeting. He had stayed before on Friday if the weather was horrible or the train wasn’t running for whatever reason, but rarely for business. She didn’t suspect a thing until she tried calling their apartment at eleven that night, right before the news came on. There was no answer.

  It was so strange for him not to answer she thought she’d dialed the wrong number and hung up the phone to dial again. But the second time, letting it ring and ring, she wondered if maybe he was in the shower, or worse if he had fallen. Not knowing his cell phone number by heart, she dug through her purse to find her own and hit his number, letting his cell ring until the call answer picked up. She hung up without leaving a message, not having anything to say to him other than that she was thinking of him and suddenly missed him. There was that seed of doubt.

  So as she puttered around in the morning expecting him any minute, she wondered if she should say something to him about the unanswered phone call but decided to let it go. If there was anything to learn, she supposed she would find out soon enough and was more than willing to let things remain as they had always been—peaceful, content, and happy.

  3

  Jack stopped by his downtown office first and then took the subway north to Grand Central, hopping on the train home. Once he was in his seat he pulled out his cell phone to call Sandra and make sure she got home safely after her shopping expedition. When he opened his phone, he saw he had a missed call. Thinking it was from her; he pressed the button and saw it had been from Pam the night before. A sick feeling washed over him. He needed to think of what t
o say to her, to call her right away and apologize.

  “Oh my God, I just saw you had called. My phone was off, and I went right to sleep. I’m so sorry.”

  “Okay. That’s okay, Jack. I didn’t really have anything to say anyway.” Was she buying it? He could never tell with her. She was so patient but she was cool, too.

  “When will you be home?” she asked, her voice neutral.

  “I’m on the train now so by noon. See you then.” They said goodbye and he put his head back on the headrest. He remembered he wanted to call Sandra. He keyed in her number but there was no answer. He put the phone away as he waited for the train to leave the station. It would be good to be home.

  Sandra let herself into her apartment. It smelled musty, closed in. She put her bags of groceries down and went around opening windows. She was on the ground floor of the building and had a door that lead out to a concrete slab, which she and her neighbor used as a patio. The only drawback was that it faced the back of a commercial building on 81st Street. There wasn’t much privacy during the day. But after five the building was empty. Sandra would make herself a cup of coffee and go out to sit. It was about as relaxing a place as you could get in the city. There would be no relaxing now, however; she had to clean her apartment and get ready for next week so she could play the rest of the weekend.

  She loved her apartment. It had a galley kitchen on the first floor with a big window facing a brick wall, a small sitting room, a full bath, and a nice sized bedroom. On the lower floor there was a huge room that she used as a combination den/guest room and another full bath. This level also had a door that lead out to the patio. She realized how lucky she was to have a two-bedroom, two-bath place with outdoor space in New York City. She would hold on to it as long as she could. Her rent went up every year and was now hovering at $3,000 a month—a steal in the city. But that was half her salary. Soon, she would either have to leave and move to Brooklyn, or worse, New Jersey. She didn’t mention her dilemma to Jack; he’d surely offer to pay the rent and then she would have to allow him admittance. No, she wasn’t ready to be kept.