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“Can you explain what the truth is, then? There was never anything concrete, just a feeling I got watching you around him. You were nervous. He didn’t seem fazed by it, but that was Jack.”
“The truth was that he drugged and raped me.”
Pam shook her head in disbelief but let Elizabeth go on.
“He invited me to lunch on some fancy boat he said a friend had lent him, moored by the Brooklyn Bridge. When I came to, I was alone on the bed. Someone had redressed me. I could tell, my stockings were twisted, my bra wasn’t on correctly. There was the evidence of rape.”
Speechless, Pam waited. There had to be more.
“It started out as two acquaintances having lunch from time to time. Nothing more. He didn’t even flirt with me. Whenever we were around each other after that, we barely made eye contact. I remember once, he did tell me when I confronted him that if news of our indiscretion got around, it would hurt Craig’s chances of re-election, so I never reported it.”
Pam didn’t need to pursue it. It was a familiar story. Jack, drugs, and rape. She was ready to change the subject. “By the way, Andy Roman is married to my grandson’s mother.”
There, that should do it.
“I know, and I figured you’d bring that up. Touché, Pam! I stay in touch with Andy. He didn’t wait long enough to get involved, but I guess that’s the least of his worries. Why would he choose to live so close to a place that held so much pain for Ginger?”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“But to get back to Jack, I owe you an apology, Pam. I probably needed whatever attention your husband was offering to give me. You know what a windbag Craig is. I thought he had made a play for you.”
“I was never unfaithful to Jack. I didn’t even fantasize about it. And Craig Harrow’s politics were a turn-off, so even if I was available, it wouldn’t have been with him.”
“What happened to Ginger has softened him a little,” Elizabeth said. “Too little, too late.”
“Well, actually, you should get tested for AIDS. Jack had it and was indiscriminate, passing it around.”
The line went dead.
“Oh, well, she’s been warned,” Pam mumbled, sliding off the bed.
Her phone beeped with a text from Lisa.Ryan’s on his way down. Don’t offer him food. He’s on a diet.
Ignoring that, Pam leaped out of bed, energy and passion for the day restored. She loved Ryan as though he were her own flesh and blood, and having the man around made her feel loved and useful.
Hocus was in the kitchen, pounding chicken breasts with a metal mallet.
“Ryan’s coming over to get a box of photos. Do you have anything for his lunch?”
“I’ll feed him healthy,” she replied. “Don’t you go lifting any crates of junk now. Let the boy do it.”
Pam grabbed a jacket off the coat tree on the veranda and left to meet Ryan on the beach. The wind had whipped up again, and she pulled the hood up to keep her hair from hitting her in the face.
“You didn’t have to come out!” Ryan called, lifting his arms in surrender. “Where the hell did this come from? It wasn’t windy this morning.”
They embraced, lingering longer than necessary, but it fed a need within Pam for compassion and human understanding, a need she sensed in Ryan as well.
“Who knows? The weather is unpredictable lately. Hocus is making you lunch.”
“Don’t tell Lisa. She’s worried about my blood pressure.”
Pam stopped walking. “What’s wrong with your blood pressure?”
“One of the anti-whateverpills I’m taking is making my BP go up. She thinks I need to lose a few pounds to bring it down rather than stop taking the medication.”
“Oh, well, she probably has a point. Hocus said she’s making healthy.”
“Okay, well, now I don’t feel guilty. I have enough shit to feel guilty about without adding my diet to it.”
