Pearl

Jake Merlotta sparred with Owen once again. They both had a similar build, but Owen was heavier and more resistant. “Come on, Jake. Hit me!” Owen muttered under his breath as he danced around him. I watched with a smile playing on my lips. Boys were so silly.

“I’ll hit you, alright,” Jake said and then threw a punch that was so quick, even I stood there with a stunned expression. Owen pulled away in surprise and stretched his jaw. “Good job,” he said and they continued their dance.

A few minutes later, I went to the back to replenish the water jug. When I returned, both of the boys were sitting on the edge of the ring. “Hi Pearly,” Jake greeted me with a nod. I handed him some water. Owen reached over and curled an arm around my waist.

“Get off me, Owen,” I muttered, “You’re sweaty!”

“So you two going steady, now?” Jake asked, wiping sweat from his own blond brow.

“I would like to say yes, but this one is hard to get an answer out of,” Owen said with a wink.

“Don’t do that,” I said and smacked him, “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

“Ouch,” Owen said and rubbed his arm.

“Okay, I’ll let you two lovebirds take it away now,” Jake muttered and walked away. I sighed as he exited. I had always had a crush on him growing up. Owen watched my gaze follow Jake. When I turned around, he was glowering at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Why are ya looking at him like he’s a slice of pie?”

“I’m not staring at him like anything. Don’t be so paranoid,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

“Ha, okay,” he said and laughed with his own eye roll.

I was now sitting on his lap with my arms draped around his neck. “Are you still coming round for dinner, tonight? I’m making chicken Parmesan,” I told him.

“I can’t believe you’re still having to take care of them. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really sweet and important, but you being a momma to your sisters is hard enough without you working for your daddy too,” he said. He shook his head.

“I can do both. I can do it all.”

“What about if we get married, huh? You still gonna go to Sarah Lawrence?”

I closed my eyes and when I did, I saw Mary Weaver thrash in the lake. I saw a gangly Owen tear up as he watched it happen. I trembled because my Owen touched my skin, asking me if I was all right. And I pulled away harshly from his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” I whispered.

I opened my eyes and Owen sat there with a wounded expression. “What did I do? I’m sorry, I won’t talk about marriage anymore,” he stated softly.

“No, it’s not –I just,” I stuttered and stood up. “I have to go. I have to make dinner.”

Owen caught my arm as I tried to escape. “What’s wrong? Tell me?” he sternly muttered.

“No, it’s –I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You know, don’t you? It was you,” he whispered.

“What?” I suddenly asked, horrified. My heart sunk and I felt tears overwhelm me.

“The girl in the blue dress. I thought I’d imagined you,” he suddenly said and fingered the hem of the periwinkle blue dress I wore. It was the only color I ever wore.

“I knew it. I knew it,” he repeated and grabbed my shoulders. “Let me explain, Pearl. Let me explain!”

He said this while I pushed him off harshly and ran. I could feel him chase me out of the gym. Both of us had horrified expressions on our faces. “You know me, Pearl! You know me!” he called after me and I kept running. As I rounded the corner, I slipped on my heel and he caught me just as I was about the hit the pavement.

“Let go!” I hollered, scratching at his pale forearms, “Murderer! Let go!”

It was strange how things could happen. I saw this event going strategically. I had always envisioned me sitting down, talking to him about my twelve-year old memory calmly, explaining what I’d seen, explaining my fears and him telling me a story that nullified my terror.

“No. I love you. Don’t say that,” he said harshly as I thrashed against him. I suddenly stopped and heaved, feeling like I was going to be sick and I was. I vomited in the gutter. He held me and pushed my hair out of the way.

“You need to let me explain,” he said urgently.

“She drowned and you just watched,” I sobbed, “You stood there. I stood there! I didn’t do anything! We watched her die. Oh God!”

Owen cried too. “I thought I’d imagined the little girl on the other side. You disappeared when I looked up.”

“I was in the water,” I whispered, “I laid in the water till you were gone. Till I saw her just float there.”

Owen looked around as if he was wondering whether or not anyone was watching. “Come,” he said flatly.

“No,” I whispered, but he tugged on my hand and led me around the two blocks back to his house. I said nothing as we entered the huge place. Olive was sitting on the couch with a VOGUE in her hands. “Pearl?” she asked when she caught sight of me. Her big blue eyes were wide and her crimson lips were set in a big circle of fear.

“She knows how Mama died,” Owen said without preamble and sat me down on the couch opposite his sister. “I’m going to make her some tea. Calm her down,” he instructed Olive.

Olive started protesting, “We promised we would never tell anyone, Ow-“ He cut her off with an angry look.

“Olive, for once in your life, do as I say,” he hissed.

I hadn’t realized what Owen had meant by telling Olive to calm me down. It wasn’t until I was in the silence of their home that I realized I was weeping. My breath was coming in hitched, painful waves. Olive looked at me with an apologetic expression. “Oh, Pearly. You have to understand the beginning before you understand the end. If you knew the kind of person that woman really was, you would understand.”

She draped an arm around my shoulder and I cried and cried because now Owen knew that I knew. Expressing it allowed made it even more real. I had never told a soul, even to the ones I loved most. Now I was discussing it with Mary Weaver’s children.

Owen came back with a mug full of hot tea. “Drink,” he told me and handed it to me. I pulled away from Olive and took some scalding sips, I didn’t care that it hurt. It made me feel better.

Owen sat down next to Olive. “Mary Weaver was our mother and her new husband was named Stephen Hitching,” he started. His voice curled around both of their names and I could see Olive’s lip quiver.

“Stephen was our step-father. And he would come into our bedroom every night.”

Olive intervened, “That man raped me every day for a year. Do you understand? And Mama just let him. She just let him! And when I cried, she beat me till I promised not to say a thing.”

Owen’s knuckles gripped his sister’s hand tightly. “And one day,” Olive said, ”She caught him doin’ it to me behind the shed and she just stood there and watched, even though I was wailing my heart out. And she just watched.”

Owen looked like he was going to be sick. “By this time, I was taller and stronger,” Owen muttered, “And when I came around the house and saw the three of them, I just lost it. I grabbed him and threw him on the ground. I beat him till I couldn’t see straight. And Mama saw I was coming for her and she ran. I chased her to the edge of the water and she couldn’t swim. I watched her go deeper and deeper in there, trying to get away from me and I just kept coming. I didn’t think about what I was doing. She got in there real deep and the water started covering her head and I just wanted to see her disappear. I don’t know, Pearl. I regret it sometimes. But the world is a better place without her. You have to believe me when I say that.”

I stared at both of them. There pale skin. Their blue eyes. Their dark hair. I saw the children I had seen that day at the funeral. I stood up slowly and made my way over to them. I didn’t know what possessed me to reach my arms around their heads and place them against my breast.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered over and over again. “I’m sorry. I believe you.”

When we pulled away, Olive was sobbing and Owen had a runny nose. “You are the only person in the world who knows, Pearl.”

“I will never speak of it again,” I vowed quietly.

They trembled as they nodded yes.