Soulmates (12 page)

Visibly shaken, she plunked down on the bed. “Don’t sit on that coverlet,” Bernice cried. “We can’t be sure when it was last changed.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“About the coverlet?”

“No! About the casino.” She looked back and forth between them trying to suppress the thrill the news had given her.

“No, we’re not kidding. We wouldn’t lock you up on a cruise ship without a casino. What would you do the whole time? Play Mahjong with me?” But Bernice was smiling, happy there was something she could do to make a good friend happy.

“I can’t believe it. I didn’t bring much money with me,” she replied disappointedly. Nelda lived on social security, her late husband’s pension from working in the New York City sewer system for forty years, and the money Pam invested for her from the sale of the house in Brooklyn. It wasn’t a fortune, but since she didn’t have any expenses living with Pam she saved it and when something really exciting came along, like a casino at her disposal for two weeks, she didn’t pinch.

Bernice prompted Annabelle, who dug through her purse, producing a plastic card. “From Pam,” she said. “A cash card for your birthday.” Practically bouncing up and down on the bed, Nelda was ecstatic.

“Yippee!” she hollered. “We don’t have to tell Pam how I spent it, do we? I am going to have fun tonight! What time does the casino open?”

“We have to be out to sea,” Annabelle answered. “So what’s it going to be tonight? Dress-up dining room? Or Bermuda shorts cafeteria style?”

“I say dress up,” Nelda replied. “We don’t do this every day. Who knows? We might find a man for Annabelle.”

Rolling her eyeballs, Annabelle laughed. “I’ll find my own man, thank you very much. But I’m not totally against finding one for you, Nelda.”

“Forget it! Not interested.”

“That’s not what I hear,” she said, glancing at Bernice, who suddenly got busy trying to figure out how a hanger worked.

“Oh is that right?” Nelda said. “Well, we’ll see about that! I’d rather be alone. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 10

The townhouse Cara Ellison formerly owned was in foreclosure; her attorney rented a one-bedroom apartment off the parkway on the way into Babylon. It was noisy and dark, but she was grateful to have her own place again after prison, not having to move in with her mother and grandmother in the Bronx. Neither woman came to visit her once while she was in jail so chances were they wouldn’t have allowed it anyway.

“This place isn’t big enough for a two people, even if one of them is a kid,” she said.

“You won’t have that to worry about the kid for a while,” he said, looking around. It was no easy feat cramming her belongings into the space, renting a small storage locker for her, as well.

“You’re so cynical. Not getting my kid back is not an option, so you better hop to it.”

“Get busy finding a job and stop telling me what I better do, Ellison. I already told you the paperwork is ready. You’ll have a retainer fee to start custody proceedings.”

“Yes, well thanks. You’re free to leave now.” Opening the door for Johnson, Cara made a last ditch effort to show some appreciation. “Have a good day and thanks for everything!” An insincere smile and a little wave and Clifton Johnson had to laugh.

“Yes, well I guess you’re welcome,” he replied. Closing the door after him, she went to the one window that overlooked the dingy parking lot and watched him get swallowed up in the sea of cars. She was finally alone. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Wanting desperately to talk to Dan Chua, it hit her that she didn’t have a phone. There was an old-fashioned yellow rotary wall phone in the outdated kitchen, but when she picked up the receiver, it wasn’t connected. Did she even have food? The harvest gold refrigerator stocked with essential items thanks to Clifton Johnson, the thought that she’d get her old body back through forced starvation brought a glimmer of hope. But only a glimmer. The Formica-topped table and vinyl covered chairs were relics from her grandmother’s house, pieces she’d used in the
finished basement with rec-room
in her former townhouse. For the past twenty years, she’d worked like a horse to rise above her modest beginnings in the Bronx to gain the title of Miss New York. Thinking about those glory days of pageantry, all eyes upon her, the attention she got from men and media were counter-productive, but she couldn’t help herself. Each achievement lead to the next until she was in a position that no one in her family had ever before achieved; a college degree, her dream job with a six-figure income, a home in the best neighborhood. Sitting down at the table, she put her head on folded arms and started to cry, but for a moment only. One of the methods Cara utilized to attain success was never allowing self-pity to creep in, and the attribute was still practical, although repressed after a year in the slammer.

This was her
own
apartment, she had public assistance until she could find a job, and if Clifton Johnson wouldn’t help her get Dan Junior back, surely there were charity firms who would come forward to help. Not all was hopeless. Getting up from the table, she decided to see what possibilities this dump had. The living room wasn’t half-bad filled with her furniture. She pulled chairs and tables this way and that until the grouping pleased her. A large shelf mimicked the focal point of a mantelpiece. Her belongings would spice up that shelf. She walked down a short hallway to the bedroom, stopping at the door leading to a small storage closet packed tight with boxes. At least the putz had taken the time to mark the contents on the outside. A box labeled knick-knacks caught her eye. She pulled on it, shoving the boxes above it back against the wall before they fell on her head. After not seeing her belongings for a year, it was like Christmas time. Finding a vase and figurine she liked from her former life, she walked back into the living room and placed the pieces on the shelf. Something about the act of trying to make the apartment her home both saddened her and energized her.

Making up the bed, putting her own sheets and coverlet on it, readying for her first night of freedom, joy returned. Grateful she was home; still the longing for her baby, the push/pull of happiness/regret was taking its toll. From experience, Cara knew the only solution to the angst, which could develop into a paralyzing depression, was to focus all of her energy on improving herself.

Basic hygiene first, she needed a dye job. She’d spend a small amount of cash on hair dye.
Just get through the next seconds,
she kept repeating.
Take care of yourself, fix up the apartment, then get a paper to job hunt. Did they even print papers anymore? The library! She’d go to the library to job hunt. A year ago, the idea she’d have to use a library computer for anything was as foreign to her as imprisonment.
It showed you how adaptable a human being was.
Suddenly, things like coins took on a new importance. She’d have to find a pay phone. Did they even exist?
What about washing clothes? Hopefully, this dump had laundry facilities somewhere.
In the boxes from her bedroom, she found a jar full of change she’d saved.

Praying the car had gas in its tank and that it would start; she took a final look in the mirror and grabbed her keys. “Let’s hope I remember how to drive,” she said to the air.

Pulling out of the driveway, she turned the car toward the village. Slowly, but steadily, her sense of independence grew stronger. She was free!

***

On Friday, Natalie decided it was time to go back to Greenwich Village.

It’s so nice having you here,” Pam said. “You are the most unobtrusive house guest! Come anytime.”

“Well, it’s been the most relaxing five days I’ve ever had. But I guess reality is setting in because my daughter called and said there’s no food in the apartment. Ha! I really am a mom.”

“Yes you are,” Pam replied, hugging her. Pam teared up, surprised but pleased, too. “We are friends.”

“That we are. Good luck with hunk John! He makes old Jason look like a weasel.” Pam gasped, embarrassed for Jason.

“He had his good points,” Pam said, uncertainly.

“Well, I know you’ll defend him as you do all of us, so I won’t argue. But the best thing that ever happened to you was when that Italian guy walked through your door.” She made a sweeping motion with her arm to indicate the kitchen in the beginnings of a transformation.

“Italian guy? Who the heck are you talking about?” Pam asked, puzzled. “Jack was Jewish and Jason’s Scotch.”

Natalie smirked and shook her head. “You really are a dumb blond, you know that?”

“What!” Pam yelled laughing. “Who’s Italian?”

“
Zapelli
?
John
Zapelli?” Natalie answered. “Honest to God Pam, what the fuck?” They were laughing, Pam holding her head and Natalie, roaring.

“Oh, how embarrassing,” Pam said. “I didn’t even think of it being his name. It was the construction company’s name. Thank heaven it hasn’t come up in conversation. But it’s sort of cool, isn’t it? My dad was born in Sardinia.”

“No one is actually born in Sardinia. Why would they leave?”

“It was after World War I,” she said. “I should have asked my grandmother more about it. We lived in her house in Brooklyn, in the house where I was raised.” Natalie slid onto the stool next to Pam. The counter facing the ocean view was the one place John’s crew hadn’t touched yet.

“Tell me about growing up in Brooklyn? I was raised downtown. In Greenwich Village. I can’t imagine living in Brooklyn.”

“It was probably not that different at the time. You’re about mid-forties, correct?”

“Almost fifty,” Natalie said, frowning. “I remember us being freaks, living where we did. My parents both taught school. NYU, just like me. We were in a building of transients in the middle of a transient neighborhood congested with students and hippies. A mom and pop and their nerdy daughter.”

“Well, hindsight; Brooklyn was wonderful,” Pam said wistfully. “I wanted to get out of it all my life and then when I finally did, I missed it. Manhattan, Bernice, I hated all the social stuff I was expected to participate in because I’d married a Smith. Junior League, Children’s Hospital Charity, you name it; I was too shy for that lifestyle.

“For a short time, I considered leaving Jack. Oh my God, I just remembered that! I guess I did have limits, after all. Its amazing isn’t it. How much you can lie to yourself?” She considered what she’d just confessed to Natalie and the shock of it that she had faced the truth about their marriage at one time stunned her. “I can’t believe I dredged it up.”

“You did an excellent job pulling it together. Long marriages are rare, and they are usually not as happy as everyone thinks they are. Of course, I am making my statement based on observation. My parents, for one, who have been married for fifty-five years. The bickering! Oy vey is mir.”

Pam laughed at Natalie’s description of her parents. “My parents were in love. But Nelda didn’t handle marriage or motherhood very well. She’s regretful now, has done the work to try to make up for it where she’s able. You know the drill; guilt, going overboard trying to be helpful.

“One of my sisters was born with a birth defect that required lots of surgeries and time in the hospital. It took a toll on Nelda. I often wonder why my father didn’t step it up. He was a wonderful man, loving father. But he was set in the roll of what a man did and didn’t do back then. My mother was exhausted from being at the hospital around the clock and trying to keep things running smoothly at home, yet my grandmother was there. I don’t remember her helping much at all, but my mother says that she wouldn’t have survived that time if it weren’t for her.

“Then she got pregnant with Marie. Marie meant everything to me when I was a little girl. You can imagine; my mother was unable to take care of her, so I just naturally slid into the roll of her caretaker. I don’t know what else to call it. I’d come home from school; I was only ten remember, and I could hear the screams of an infant coming from the house while I was walking from the bus stop. Nelda would be frantic, waiting for me.

“‘Take her please,’ she’d plead. Still in my uniform, I’d drag the buggy down the stoop and Nelda would put Marie inside and run back up into the house, slamming the door. From the time I got home from school until after dinner, I’d take care of the baby. Nelda nursed her, and it was while she was feeding that I’d start my homework. Fortunately, she was usually okay in the evenings and I could continue to study. But it was that afternoon fussy period that drove my mother crazy. She said she never bonded with her.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Natalie said, sadly. “It must have been horrible for both of you.”

“I have wonderful memories of playing with her, like she was a little doll. I’d rock her and sing to her, dress her up, bathe her. When she had colic, Nelda would bring her into my bed when she couldn’t take it anymore. ‘See if you can calm her down.’ It was okay during on the weekends, but during the week, she’d still expect me to get up for school. My father finally intervened by getting Nelda to take over. He never took care of her that I can remember. In fact, I don’t think I saw my father carrying any of the girls when they were small. Susan wore a heavy brace for years and my mother would struggle under the weight.

“When Marie became ill, Nelda was at her bedside around the clock for the entire year. I was at odds with Marie. After a lifetime of being best friends, I finally had trouble forgiving her for betraying me with Jack.”

“Wait, Jack was with Marie, too?”

“Ashton must have told you,” Pam said.

“No, I don’t think he knew about that one.” Natalie was appalled but didn’t want to make Pam feel worse.

“Well, maybe Jack was actually ashamed of it. He began abusing her when she was fifteen. Then of course, she grew up and it continued until he started to date Sandra, just as Ashton said. Sandra was the only one he’d make an effort to stay faithful to.”

“Of course, you couldn’t have had an inkling what was going on.”

“I must have buried it. I mean, there were times I was confused because I felt jealous of the attention he was giving her. When I confronted him, he always had an excuse. If you’d known Jack, you’d understand. He was so charming. And a liar. I was no match for him. But I loved my sister so much. I practically raised her.”