“Yes, but how will you ever be able to support a family someday? Is this your last stop in life?” He looked at her with confusion, hearing what she said, but seeming not to get it.
That’s great! I’m with a dumb young boy, she thought.
“I got no intentions of ever havin’ a family. They’re not all that they’re cracked up to be,” he replied, hostilely. Sandra sat down next to him on the bed.
“What happened?” she asked gently, interested.
“My folks died when I was young and I lived with my grandmother in southwest Philly. It’s not like it is here, believe me.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied. “That’s hard at any age. My parents died when I was just out of college. It was difficult because I didn’t have anyone to guide me. Being completely on your own must be rough.”
“I manage.”
“When you say you’re well paid, what does that mean?” He told her how much money he made, the amount shocking her; these well-heeled boat owners working him around the clock and he was barely making enough to pay his rent. No wonder he lived in such a dump.
Sandra was getting comfortable with Pete. When Jason’s boat came out of the water that October, she’d make excuses about not spending time with him and stay at Pete’s instead. Weekends in Philadelphia became the norm for her, a reason to get through the week with something to look forward to.
Finally, it came to a head the rainy Sunday afternoon after the wedding fiasco. Barely able to tolerate Jason’s self-pity now that he was available, Sandra was hoping to ease out of their
relationship
. She’d gone into Babylon with him on Saturday afternoon, waiting at Jeff Babcock’s while Jason went next door to talk to Pam. He came back in the throws of depression, alternately crying and drinking heavily. Sandra couldn’t take it anymore, leaving by nine the next morning, getting the train into Philly to be with Pete instead.
She lay in bed, curled up next to Pete, guilty about leaving Brent with Valarie for yet another weekend. After Jason wasting her time, things needed a little shaking up. Sandra and Pete couldn’t go on as they were much longer because there was no future for either of them. She eased him back into talking about what his next step in life would be.
“No step,” he said, yawning. “I like things the way they are.”
“Well, I don’t. We aren’t going anywhere,” she said, fighting to keep the whine out of her voice.
“Just enjoy what we have,” he replied. “Why do we have to go anywhere? You already have a life and family and I don’t want either.”
“You need to go back to school,” she said firmly when he admitted he was content to let things go as they were.
“Ha,
Mom
!” he yelled, provoked. “Haven’t you listened to me? How the hell do you suggest I do that? I’ve used up my three wishes.”
“I’ll lend you the money,” Sandra said.
“Now you’re the delusional one. I’m not taking your money.” Pete shook his head, pulling away from her and getting out of bed, his young naked body beautiful. Feeling like a child abuser, she watched him moving unselfconsciously around the room as only the very young can, pulling on sweat pants and a t-shirt, apparently angry.
“I’m sorry, Pete. I’ve offended you.”
“You better leave,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed.
“Really?” Sandra was embarrassed and hurt. “I didn’t mean to patronize you. I just want to help you because I like you.” He laughed out loud again.
“You people all think alike,” Pete said. “I’ve never been invited to your fancy place in Brooklyn and I’m not good enough to meet your son. Maybe someday you’ll get it through your head we
all
don’t go to college, and we
all
don’t want families and responsibilities.”
“What about
us
?” she asked pointing back and forth between the two of them. She already knew the answer. He was a sex object to her, nothing more than a piece of ass. Jason wasn’t pressuring her for sex because Pam must have told him she was HIV positive. There could be no other explanation. And now, a twenty-three-year old dock boy was throwing her out of his horrible apartment because she offered him a chance of a lifetime.
“Don’t answer,” she said, getting up, gathering her things, the need to get out of his apartment one of urgency. Although she never had the feeling Pete was threatening her, a sense of foreboding was growing. She didn’t primp or waste any time, leaving without further discussion. She called for a car when there was no taxi available, and in the short time she waited on the street near his apartment, Jason’s son Aaron, the drug addicted one, drove by and saw her standing there.
The weeks before the wedding, Jason spent more time with Pam and less with Sandra, whose days with him were numbered. After the wedding debacle and Pam was out of the picture, Jason pressured Sandra for more of her time, emailing and texting continuously that week, crying onto her answering machine. He disguised his voice, giving fictitious names to the receptionist at Lang, Smith and Romney, hoping she’d put him through. It worked once.
“Mr. Vegas on line one,” the receptionist Alison said.
“Mr. Vegas? Who’s he? Take a message, Al,” Sandra said, hanging up. In seconds, the phone buzzed again.
“Miss Benson, Mr. Vegas says it’s urgent. Something about property taxes,” Sandra frowned, thinking.
“Okay, I’ll take it then,” she said, curious since Pam paid the real estate taxes on her house. She pushed a button and heard laughter.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sandra, it's Jay. Please don’t hang up.”
“This will be the last time, do you understand me?”
“I get that you won’t see me again, is that correct?”
“Yes. We are through; whatever that weirdness was is over. I’m so angry at you for doing what you did to Pam.”
“What
I
did? You
are
joking,” he replied.
“Yes, what
you
did, Jason. Leaving her at the altar was next to unforgivable. I don’t want you to call me again understand? You’re behavior’s beginning to border on harassment.”
“Why’d you leave Jeff’s on Saturday? First Natalie disappeared and then you were nowhere to be found.”
“You were all so drunk, what difference did it make?”
“The difference is that now we don’t need to hide our friendship,” he replied. Sandra snorted loudly.
“Is that what it is? Well, I have news for you, Jason. I want a divorce.” With that, she banged the phone down.
Monday morning, sitting at the kitchen counter, Jason could see the river swiftly moving past the dock, a freighter pulling out of the pier across the way in Camden. His boat had been in the water now for over a month and because of preparations for the wedding, she’d hardly been away from the dock. He would take care of that oversight soon, but not yet; not when he was unable to focus on navigating. Boating on the Delaware took skill and concentration; there were hazards floating under the surface, old pilings and logs, things that could poke a hole into the hull, and the currents were swift and strong. He’d wait for a few more days.
“What’s for breakfast?” Aaron came in from the apartment, looking for food.
“I don’t know,” Jason muttered. “Let’s go to the diner.”
“I can’t,” Aaron said, smiling. “I’ve got a job interview.” Jason whipped around quickly to look at his handsome son. He was freshly shaven, had on a clean white shirt and tie, neat trousers, polished shoes.
“Wow, I wish Mom could see you now,” Jason said choked up. Aaron went to his father, putting his arm around his shoulders.
“Thanks for sticking by me, Dad. I know I’m not out of the woods yet, but I want to work. What’s going on with you? Still suffering from guilt?”
“Is that what it is?” Jason asked, frowning. “No, I was just shut down by Sandra. I thought we could take our relationship to the next level…”
“Dad, let me stop you right there. I almost forgot to tell you. Guess who I saw waiting outside of Petey Porter’s crappy apartment building last night?”
Jason pulled back from Aaron and frowning, looked up at him. “Who? The cops?”
“No. Sandra Benson. I almost stopped to ask what the hell she was doing in that neighborhood after dark, but I was with a group and I wasn’t driving.”
“I feel like someone just threw a bucket of hot shit at me,” Jason said.
“Yeah, well I’m sorry it was me,” Aaron replied. “I’ve got to run. But I’d look into it if I were you.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m going to.” Jason got up from the stool after Aaron left, running the water to make more coffee. Several things came into his head that may have been unrelated, but now that he had Aaron’s latest information, he could see he’d ignored some incidents. About two weeks after they’d started going out on the boat every weekend, Sandra made the excuse to leave after breakfast on Sunday, saying she needed to get home to Brent. But when Jason tried to call her later in the day, her phone was always shut off. At the same time, Pete asked for Sunday afternoon off. The community dock had to give it to him; he was available to them twenty-four/seven.
Just then, Pete came into view, dragging a hose behind him. He was going to scrub down Emily’s Paycheck. Jason watched him work the way he watched Sandra pose, with the eye of an artist. There was no mistake that Pete a specimen. He was young; who
didn’t
look great in their youth? Without provocation, the image of Pete naked, on top of Sandra popped into his head. Slowly, rage burned inside his brain. The physical rush was complete, heat through his body, sweat on his upper lip, finally his bowels rumbling so that he’d have to run to the toilet.
Little Pete’s ass was just saved by my stomach,
he thought.
Pete was standing on the swim platform, scrubbing the port side of the boat when Jason came out to find him. Watching for a few moments, Jason weighed the options between getting revenge on Pete if what Aaron said was true, or letting it go because he was the best dock boy they’d had in all the years he lived in Philadelphia.
“Hey, Pete,” Jason called. Pulling the long handled brush back on the platform, Pete unhesitantly hopped up on the dock and skipped over to Jason with his hand extended.
“Taking her out today, sir? It’s swift, but the reports are good from here to the Chesapeake.”
“No, not today, Pete. Maybe Wednesday. I’ll let you know, I could use a deck hand if I do.”
“Okay, sir, I’d be delighted.” He stood close, smiling, not a hint of deceit. He was an adroit liar, and although Jason bristled that Pete couldn’t be trusted, it was a small black mark against an excellent boatman.”
“Great,” Jason replied, turning back to the house. “Oh Pete, by the way.”
“Yes sir?” They faced each other friendly, nothing at all adversarial about the confrontation.
“Sandra has HIV. I’d get yourself tested if I were you.” Jason stood close by, watching the color drain from Pete’s face. Later, Jason had to hand it to him; he never flinched, never got defensive, but there were definitely fear there, whether from AIDS or losing his job, Jason would never know because they never mentioned it again.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, waiting for Jason to leave again before he got back on board. Drinking coffee at the riverside window all morning, Jason watched Pete finish the best wash job Emily’s Paycheck ever got.
Chapter 8
The week after Jason left Pam standing at the altar was one of new beginnings for many people. On Thursday, John Zapelli picked Pam up at her beach house in his shiny new truck and drove her around to all the great kitchen showrooms on the island. Since no one was waiting at home, she didn’t worry about how long she was away. It was refreshing and freeing, reminiscent of what life was like after Jack died. The callous way she thought his death that it had freed her from restriction, saddened her. It was an awful time, but reflecting over it now years later, she realized there was a plus side to it.
Only once that day she thought about Lisa, hoping since Cara had left prison they were okay. The rest of the time, she enjoyed John’s company. They chatted about kitchen design and new products, and then Pam opened up to him.
“This is a sort of fantasy of mine,” she said, looking out the window as he drove.
“Is that right? Good or bad?”
“Oh, it’s very good. In my fantasy, I am in a utility vehicle, similar to this and I’m with a companion who shares my love of gardening. We walk through the garden centers, taking our time, planning where we’ll put plants and trees.”
“Have you had anything come close?” Pam looked at him, at his strong profile as he looked straight ahead.
“Just once. I thought something might come of it, but it fell flat.” She laughed out loud. “Oh boy, I hope you don’t feel like I’m putting any pressure on you to take me to Garden World.”
“Not at all,” he said, chuckling. They came to a red light and he looked over at Pam. She looked sad. Feeling badly for her, he wondered if something was happening between them that would amount to anything, or if it would just be a kitchen remodel. “I guess if that’s the worst proposition I get today, I am a really lucky man.”
“Oh! I’m so embarrassed,” she said, flushing and laughing. A young woman driving alongside John’s truck saw the attractive older couple enjoying their trip.
Looking over, watching, she sighed. “I hope I can have a relationship like that someday,” Becky Morgan said to her companion.
“Like what?”
“Look at this couple next to us. They’re talking and laughing, you can tell they are having a good time.” Her companion struggled to lean forward to see what her friend was talking about it. It took a few seconds for it to register.
“That’s my father!” Violet said. “Honest to God, all the single, middle-aged women in Babylon and he ends up taking Pamela Smith to Ferry Stone.”
“No way! Is that who it is? I can’t see the guy.”
“She looks like hell, too,” Violet replied.
“I wouldn’t be surprised after what she’s been through. After Brent being murdered and all.”
“I heard she had AIDS,” Violet said with a sneer.
“That’s what they say, but I think they’re jealous of her.”