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Chapter 23
Pam leaned heavily on her cane as she stood at Fiana’s grave site. She’d wanted to attend the funeral, but the doctor refused to release her. Ida took over for her. She notified Fiana’s few friends and relatives and then arranged for the burial. Ida assured Pam that it was a lovely service and, considering how few people Fiana knew, there had been a gracious turn out of mourners. Pam found that comforting.
The wind was blissfully fierce, making the fact that Pam had hidden her face beneath her high collar understandable, while hiding the remnants of the angry marks on her face that were the real reason for her disguise.
Ida walked up next to her daughter and stood, silently waiting for a signal of departure. Fiana had tragically drowned in the bath tub, but she had enough sleeping medication in her to do the job if she had not drowned first. Ida took great pains to hide the fact that it was a suicide from Pam. She was afraid the knowledge would only a
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One Year LaterChuck entered Pete’s diner, stopping just inside the door to ignite his e-cigarette. There once was a time when he was able to light a real cigarette. Oh how he longed for those days. The e-cigarette was lacking, but it was better than nothing. Progress and laws. Damn them both.As he made his way toward his usual booth. Stopping in front of the table next to it, he looked into the eyes of a fat woman who frequented the place around the same time as he did. She’d paused briefly from the gorging session she was having with a breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes swimming in syrup. He chuckled at her defensive glower before moving on.Pam limped toward Chuck’s booth with her pen and pad ready. She was grateful that Pete was willing to take her back, bad leg and all. Her wounds had faded enough to be able to cover with make-up, but the tendon in her leg had been severed and she would always have a limp. Eve
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Tiny raindrops that started as a misty haze progressively transformed into pelting rain as Pam pushed her way through the crowded city streets. She was late for work again.Stopping, briefly to catch her breath, she wiped the drenched stray strands of her thick auburn hair that escaped the tight knot on the back of her head from her equally wet brow as she studied the flashing sign over the doorway of the run down diner on the opposite side of the street.The “e” in Pete was dark, turning ‘Pete’s Diner’ into ‘Pet‘s Diner’. Pam grimaced as she watched Chuck forge his way through the threatening torrent and shove his way past the clouded class door. A regular customer, Chuck was a perfect example why ‘Pete’s Place’ should actually be called ‘Pet’s Place’. He was a pig if ever she’d met one.Lowering her umbrella, she hunched her shoulders against the elements whil
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Pam walked briskly toward the bus stop. Her day had been borderline unbearable. In an effort to appease Pete and get back into his good graces, she’d agreed to work a double shift. Her feet and legs were numb from the exertion of waiting on customers; the majority of which she was convinced were the dregs of humanity. She longed for a hot bath, soft sheets, and her head cradled in the crook of Fiana’s arm.The sun was just settling behind the skyline when she reached her destination. A small crowd formed as the time for the bus to arrive grew near. Pam made her way toward the bench. It was laden with people, but she could at least lean against it to take some of the load off her feet and ease a bit of the discomfort she felt while waiting. An elderly lady eyed her suspiciously while solidifying her grip on her bags and an old man sitting beside her raised his eyebrows seductively. She looked away with disgust. Men were all the same, no matter how young or ol
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Pam almost dropped her tray as she ploughed her way through the diner’s crowded dining room toward her customer’s table. She’d slept poorly the night before; partly from the aches and pains in her body and partly because she couldn’t shed the image and scent of the Asian man on the bus. Her body was almost numb as she delivered the food and then turned to the booth next to them where Chuck sat, doing his best to look sexy while he smoked his e-cigarette.“What will it be today, Chuck,” she asked while waving smoke from her face. “That’s a bad habit, you know.They’ll be outlawing it in public soon.”“It’s vapor,” he said smugly. “Haven’t you ever seen an e-cigarette?”“Whatever, they’re offensive,” she said as she kept her eyes on her order pad while she waited for him to answer.“How about you, baby. Are you a bad habit?&rd
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Pam walked up the stone steps of her apartment building and put the key in the main door lock. She turned to watch the taxi drive down the street before entering the building. Her time in the cab gave her the chance to come to terms with her own ridiculousness.She moved slowly and heavy footed as she climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment door. She’d just put the key in the lock when the door was flung open before she could turn the key. Fiana looked surprised to discover Pam as she stood in the doorway with her hair in disarray and her thin slip barely covering her breasts.“Why are you home?” she asked with agitated confusion.The ice in the glass of scotch that she clutched close to her chest clanked against the side of the glass in rhythm with her heavy breasts that heaved, as if from exertion.“Did I spoil your party?” Pam asked bitterly as she pushed her way passed Fiana and into the apartment.It
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Pam made her way toward the diner. Things looked even more run down in the night’s light than in the daylight.Her quarrel with Fiana still stung. Maybe it was because they were becoming more frequent or maybe it was because Fiana was right. She lit a cigarette as she mulled over the words her lover shouted at her as she bounded down the stairwell of the apartment building. ‘Why do you have to go there? You quit one dump to go to another... it does not make sense! Just go to Ida. Ida will see to all of our needs and then we can stay home and just love, love, love. When I met you, you were on your way to becoming a great photographer. Do you remember? Why did you stop? What is wrong? I do not understand you milaya moya.’Fiana had a point. Pam didn’t have to leave her alone; not ever. Her mother would happily support both of them. No doubt using it as a means to bridge the gap between mother and daughter and make up for the pain; pain th
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Pam closed the apartment door quietly behind her. The night was long and relatively uneventful. She earned over eight hundred dollars. Marty was so pleased with her attentiveness to Gustof that he’d tipped her himself! Although her body was tired, her spirits were elated. She was sorry to see Fiana sleeping on the sofa. She’d hoped to find her lover still awake so that she could discuss and share her the evening’s events with her.She pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa to cover Fiana’s lean body. The light touch of its soft folds against her pale skin was enough to rouse the middle aged woman. Her eyes fluttered open as she slowly rolled over.“You stink of those men,” she slurred vehemently. “I can smell their sweat from here. I want to vomit.”The stench of alcohol mixed with smoke assaulted Pam while she strained to understand the slurred words that were spilling out of her alcoholic Russian lover’
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Pam’s slight frame slid across the back seat of the limousine and practically landed in Sylvia’s lap as the driver recklessly took a corner at a speed worthy of the Palisades Parkway and not the streets of the upper eastside of Manhattan. Sylvia scowled threateningly at the driver, who snarled defiantly back through his rear view mirror. She assumed that since they’d made such a scene at Marty’s party, a thrill ride in the back of his limousine was probably part of Marty’s payback. It was either that, or the driver went insane. Either way, Sylvia had borne it long enough and if he didn’t stop this recklessness she was going to do something drastic, like beat him over the head with the heel of her four-inch Jimmy Choo’s.Pam was hesitant about accepting the thin lace trimmed handkerchief Sylvia produced from her Chanel evening bag. It seemed too fine to be used to blot at the blood oozing from her lip, but, at Sylvia’s insistence
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