Pearl (27 page)

She pulled the feathery comforter to her face, inhaling the rich scent of lavender, desert air, and childhood memories. She smiled in her sleep. She heard the soft sounds of breathing and felt the unavoidable sense she was being watched. She slid one eye open from under her covers to see Billy staring down at her from the desk chair in the corner of her room.
 

She gasped, pulling the pillow over her head.
 

“You slept through your birthday,” Billy said. The sadness in his voice pulled Pearl out of her drowsy state.
 

She tugged the pillow away and propped herself up on her elbows. She looked to the window. The sun hung low in the sky, almost as though she hadn’t slept at all.

“What time is it?”

“After seven,” he said.

She adjusted her eyes from her deep sleep. “I was out a long time.”

Billy didn’t say anything. He just sat there with his eyes dropped to the ground as his hands rested softly over his knees. Even sitting down he looked taller, and his childish body rounded with the first signs of puberty. It made Pearl instantly uneasy. She didn’t know how to speak to an older Billy, only the one she had mothered.
 

“Your hair is longer,” she said.

He touched the floppy locks that fell over his eyes. “Yeah, the kids at school wear it like this.”

She cocked a brow. “School?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in school now. Was all year.”

Pearl sat up, tightening the covers around her. “I was gone a long time, wasn’t I?”
 

He shrugged again, still not meeting her eyes.
 

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of the right thing to say, to assure him she had to leave to go find herself. What she couldn’t admit was she’d returned more broken than when she had left.
 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” she said.

“It’s okay.”

“No,” she insisted. “I should have never left without telling you. You and I were a team. Are a team. And it isn’t fair that I just took off.” She paused to watch him. His gaze fluttered up to meet hers. “You know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

“I got your letter.”

“That wasn’t good enough.” She got up from the bed. Her oversized sweatshirt and sweat pants made Billy scowl.
 

She knelt in from of him. “I just had to figure some things out.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m older now—I understand.” And at once he became the little boy Pearl knew.
 

She wrapped him up in a strong hug. He didn’t resist, but he didn’t give in. It would take some time to earn back his trust.
 

“I won’t do it again—leave without talking to you first.”

“Promise?” he asked quietly.

“Promise.”

She pulled back to see a slight smile cross his dimpled cheeks.
 

“It’s still your birthday,” he said.

“It is,” she said. Though to her it was not a day worth celebrating.

“I made you a card. I wasn’t sure if you were going to get it, but I made it anyway.” He paused, looking down at his hands as he spoke. “I saved your presents from last year. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s very okay. Thanks, kiddo.”

Her father popped his head in her cracked doorway. “Good, you’re up,” he said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t miss out on your birthday dinner.”

They piled down the stairs, as though this was any other birthday on any other year and Pearl had never left. They pulled up seats around the oak table. The only time they ate at the table was special occasions like this. It felt awkward not having the sound of the TV to fill the empty silence. Her father lifted eggplant lasagna from the oven. The tangy aroma filled the kitchen, and Pearl was grateful to see a meal that didn’t consist of a live animal that had been butchered on the farm. He dished them up, and they fell into a rhythm of eating while replacing dead air with small talk. It was Billy who was first to crack.

“Did you really get married?” he asked. “To Roy?”
 

Pearl just about choked on her food at the abruptness in his tone.

She looked to her father, who stared at his plate. They were a family of disregarding glances.

She turned her attention to Billy. “Yes, I did.”

“So why aren’t you wearing a ring? Like Dad.”

Pearl glanced at the gold band on her father’s hand. It made her uncomfortable that he still wore it.

“Because I’m not really married anymore,” she answered.
 

Her father continued on with his chewing as though no conversation was taking place.

“Did you get a divorce?” Billy asked.
 

Pearl’s brow lifted. “They do teach you a lot at school. No, I’m not divorced.”

Billy scowled in confusion.

“But I will be,” she confirmed.

Her father looked up at her words. She took another bite, ignoring his stare.

“Good,” Billy said. “I never liked him. He would always call me Billy Goat, but I didn’t think it was very funny.” Billy frowned. “What’s it like on a farm?”
 

“Billy, you need to eat,” she scolded.

He rolled his eyes, but took a bite. “Are there cows and horses and chickens and sheep?”

She laughed at his eagerness. “No sheep. Just cows, chickens, and horses.” She leaned in to him. “I learned to ride a horse.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way.” She smiled. She looked to her dad, who had slowed his food intake as well.
 

“The horse I rode was named Molly,” she said to Billy. “She was beautiful. I would take her on trails and through the woods. I even jumped over a creek. I loved it.”

Billy’s mouth dropped open.
 

“You’d like Oregon, Billy,” she said. “There are tons of trees and the ocean is very close. California is not far away, either. You could go to Disneyland.”

“Did you?” Billy asked.

“Well, no. But I was really busy,” Pearl confessed.

“With what?”

“I worked. I was a waitress.”

“Thought you said Roy made too much money and that you didn’t have to work?” her father piped in.

Pearl swallowed, not meeting her father’s questioning stare.
 

“Well, that was before,” she said.

“Did you really live in a mansion?” Billy asked, his eyes wide.

“I want to hear about school,” she said, needing to take the topic off herself. “I went so long ago I hardly remember, so I have to learn it all from you.”

“It’s pretty cool,” Billy said nonchalantly, not minding the change of subject. “But I have a lot of homework.”

“Homework is different,” she said. “What about new friends?”

“Well, they’re all new friends,” Billy replied in an exaggerated tone. “I never had friends before.”

Pearl nodded. “I made new friends, too.”

Billy took another bite. “You did? Won’t you miss them? I miss my friends now that school’s out, but Dad says they can come over and play.”

“You’re very lucky.” Pearl smiled. Nothing made her happier than her baby brother making friends and flourishing. The guilt subsided, but only slightly.

Her father sat silent through their conversation. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow Pearl thought tonight he was exceptionally quiet. She looked at him, and he turned his gaze out the window.
 

“What about you, Dad? What have you been up to?”

“Same ol’,” he responded without meeting her eyes.

Pearl lifted her glass of milk to her lips. Billy’s gaze followed.

“What happened to your wrists?” Billy asked, his voice timid and frightened.

Pearl choked back on her drink. She quickly set her cup down and rolled her sleeves to her hands. “Oh, it was nothing. Just…” She watched her father rise from the table and take his plate to the sink.

“I just…” Her mind went blank. She could not think of a single explanation to give. Billy stared at her, his confidence weakening with her pending silence.

“It’s from the horse,” she said with a deep breath. “The reins were a little tight is all.”

Billy looked confused. “Why did you keep doing it if it hurt so much?”

Pearl looked away, her gaze dropping to her barely touched lasagna. “I don’t know, Billy. I just don’t have that answer.”

“Bedtime, Billy,” her father said, reaching for his son’s finished plate.
 

“But we haven’t done birthday cake!” Billy complained.

“Tomorrow, kiddo,” Pearl said. “I promise.”

Billy sulked as he shuffled his way from the kitchen.
 

“I’ll come read to you,” she said, getting up from her chair.

Billy turned at the stairway. “I’m eleven, Pearl. I don’t need you to read to me.”

Pearl felt the heat in her cheeks. “Well, at ten you didn’t need me to read to you, but you liked it when I did.”

Billy shrugged. “I got used to reading to myself.”

Pearl flinched; she fought back the tears in front of her little brother. “Can I just come up and say goodnight, then?”

“Sure,” Billy said as he walked up the steps.

Pearl returned from tucking Billy in, flipping the patio light on as she made her way back to the kitchen. Her father stood at the kitchen sink, his hands covered in suds as he scrubbed the lasagna pan.
 

He heard her enter the room. “You sure make life in Oregon sound pretty great,” he said as he dried the pan off and set it on the counter.
 

“I should be doing that,” she responded, stepping in to take over at the sink.

“Not on your birthday.”

She brought her plate from the table and placed her scraps in a plastic container. “You finally bought new Tupperware.”

He looked down at her leftovers. “My Christmas present for myself.”

She spun away and opened the fridge, placing her container on an empty shelf.
 

“I can go grocery shopping tomorrow if you’d like.”

He rinsed the plate in the sink before diving back into the soapy water. “Planning on staying?”

“Am I not allowed to?” Pearl asked in barely a whisper.

“Christ, Pearl,” he swore. “Of course you’re allowed to.”

She shut the refrigerator and leaned against it, watching her father work. The tension swam thick between them. She could hardly remember a time she felt this uncomfortable with him.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

He snorted a laugh. “You don’t have to thank me for letting you live in your own house.” He turned to look at her. “Guess I’m just surprised you’re sticking around now that you’re a big adult and all.”

“Dad, I’m sorry…”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to be. I’m just a little worked up, Pearl. You caught me off guard. But I’m glad you’re here.” He turned back to the sink. “What’s your plan, anyway?”

She twisted her fingers, her hands fidgeting as she worked up the courage to say, “I want to go find Mom.”

The plate her father was holding came crashing down on the counter. Pearl jumped as her father’s hands scrambled to grab the plate before it smashed onto the ground. He set it down carefully, leaning his palms against the counter. She didn’t speak, didn’t breathe, as she watched his back move up and down in raspy breaths.

“Why would you do that?” he asked coolly.

“I know she’s not a singer,” Pearl began.
 

His shoulders arched as he pressed against the tile.
 

“I just…” She paused. “…I just need to know where she is. I want to talk to her. I have so many questions.”

He let his guard down, his shoulders dropping. He ran a hand through his graying hair and turned to face her. His eyes spun wildly as he opened his mouth to speak and then shut it. He took in a deep breath.

“I need a drink.” He walked past her, opening the liquor cabinet above her head.

“You don’t drink,” she said.

“No, I don’t, not unless there is nothing left to cure a horrible day.” He pulled a bottle of scotch from the shelf. “Last time I drank was your eighteenth birthday.”
 

He walked away, grabbing a short clear glass, and poured the amber liquid in. As he returned the scotch, Pearl’s eye caught on a bottle of moonshine. Her heart instantly ached for Vernie.
 

“I’ll have some of that,” she said, pointing to her familiar drink.

Her father gave her a startled look.

She shrugged. “Too many horrible days.”
 

He dropped his gaze and grabbed the whiskey, pouring her a glass that matched his own in weight. He took his to the table, sitting silently by the window, sipping on his drink. She stood by the fridge, locked in place, seemingly knowing she needed to keep her space. She took a sip and watched him carefully. His eyes narrowed as he thought of the words to say.

“I knew this day would come,” he said, his eyes locked on his glass as the scotch twirled. “Just thought it would have been on my terms.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

He smiled sadly. “No, you don’t.” He looked at her confused expression. “See, I should have told you a long time ago. The truth was, I’m a coward. But sometimes we say things that we want others to hear, or more that we think they want to hear.” He paused to let the words sink in. “It’s easier than telling the truth, isn’t it?”

Pearl flushed and looked away. He’d known her letters home were a lie. Of course she couldn’t hide the truth from the one man who knew her best.

He turned back to his glass and finished his drink in one full swig. He set the empty cup down and looked out to the rustic field in front of the house. She waited anxiously, terrified and entranced by his silent composure.
 

“The night your mother left there was an accident,” he said cautiously, rotating his head to look at his daughter.
 

Pearl caught her breath.
 

“A car came around the bend just as she was running across the street.”

The sound that filled her dreaded nightmares came blaring into her head. She could hear the sound of screeching tires and echoing screams that seeped through her window pane and filled her ringing ears.