Pearl

My stomach began to puff out. I ignored it and covered it in my biggest skirts to hide it from others and from myself.

Father called and talked to Momma for a very long time, when I asked if he wanted to talk to me, Momma shook her head very quickly. Jake and I forced smiles at each other often, as if our friendship would make this okay. But we worried, we definitely worried.

One very early August morning, the entire house shook with the opening and slamming of the door downstairs. Jane and I sat up in bed and crept out into the hall. Momma stepped in front of us with a large bat in her hand. “You stay up here with the girls,” she said to me and slowly limped down. The sun wasn’t out and the darkness was eerie. We winced when the lights turned on from downstairs and heard Father’s voice boom, “Ethel! I’m here!”

A cold dart of dread trickled from my spine to my lungs. Momma put the bat down and clutched her chest. “Oh, now. It’s your Daddy. Go back to bed, Jane.” She looked at the little one and then to me. “You stay with me, Pearl. We’ve got a morning ahead of us, that’s for sure.”

Father finally made his appearance, standing at the foot of the stairs with an exhausted expression on his face. His eyes met mine, and then they trailed down to my protruding stomach through my silk nightgown. His disappointment and pain were tangible. “Come and give me a hug,” he murmured gruffly. Momma did. She made her way to him and laughed stiffly when he kissed her cheek.

I stayed glued to my spot. He looked up. “You. I need to talk to you.”

I nodded solemnly, wrapping my arms around myself. My horror escalated, however, when Owen came around the corner. His arms were crossed and the tension in his face was so great, I wanted to collapse at his feet and beg for forgiveness. “Pearl,” he greeted me curtly with a nod of his head.

I stared down from the top of the stairs. Father let go of Momma and tiredly made his way up, brushing past me. He turned and headed towards his study and I followed, keeping my eyes down. When we arrived, Father sat at his leather chair, fumbled through his drawer, and pulled out a cigarette. He kept his eyes down until he’d got a few drags out, then he made eye contact.

“You can imagine my shock, Pearl, upon receiving your letter. Your mother informed me about the situation over the phone. I am disappointed. I am upset. I wanna let you know these things. I’d no idea you and Jake were even… Well, ya know.” He paused for a long moment.

“But Owen, Owen doesn’t deserve this. That’s why we’re here early. He’s losing his fights. Mr. Moz decided we’d just go home and recover rather than continue on the tour. He doesn’t know. He’s guessed. But he doesn’t know you’re expecting. I think you are the only person who can tell it to him. That’s your responsibility.”

“Daddy. I’m sorry,” I murmured with tears escaping my eyes. He was crying too.

“Honey. I just wanted better for you. I love you. I’ll stand by you. But there is a storm coming, you know that.”

I stayed silent. “I am a wretched girl.”

He stared at me. “You ain’t. I don’t want you feeling sorry for yourself either. Nothing you can do except get on.”

His anger finally crept through. I watched as he inhaled smoke deeply. “Now go and talk to him. Don’t want him being a fool much longer.”

I shakily got up and crossed my arms. I found them in the kitchen. Momma was being awkwardly cheerful, serving Owen coffee and sweet bread. They hushed when I entered. Momma looked up at me and said, “I’m gonna go check on your Daddy.” She left and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Owen hadn’t turned around. He sat at the kitchen table with squared shoulders. I sat in the chair across from him. His fingers were shaking around the mug of coffee in his hands, but he still didn’t look up at me and I finally had to break the silence.

“Owen. I am very sorry.”

He traced circles on the mug. “You’re sorry?” he mirthlessly laughed.

“I am so sorry. There is no right explanation for this. I’m sorry,” I repeated with hot tears running down my cheeks.

“You’re getting married.” His words dripped with hate.

He was still looking down. I nodded a yes, but he didn’t see that and so he finally lifted up his head and hissed, “Answer me.” I noticed his right eye was a sickening shade of yellow. A faint red line shone on his lip. He had lost. He had lost badly over there. I wanted to jump into his arms, but he looked just about ready to murder me.

Owen had never been cruel to me. He had never looked at me with such ire. And I knew that I’d done it to him first. His animosity was a repercussion of my own cruelty.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“To fuckin’ Jake Merlotta?” He looked at me in disbelief, as if he just couldn’t believe it. “What about our plans?” he murmured.

“I am marrying him.” I tried not to cry. I tried to look certain and solid about my words.

“Do you not love me anymore, Pearl?”

“No!” I gushed, “That’s not it.”

“Does it have to do with my Momma?” he pressed.

“No,” I whispered.

“Then what is it?”

I stared at him long and hard. He didn’t think me capable of this betrayal, I knew that.

“Owen, I made a terrible mistake.” I leaned forward, trying to find a sliver of grace.

Suddenly, realization struck his pale blue eyes, as if his worse fears had been confirmed. He rocketed up with a grotesque expression on his face and raised his fists to his ears, as if he just couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up too, reaching my arms out in frustration.

“Are you telling me… Are you telling me you have Jake’s baby in your belly?” He sounded like he was going to be sick.

“Yes,” I murmured, “Owen, I’m sorry.”

He looked at me now, eyes tracing down to my stomach through my nightgown. He stared and stared and then turned quickly, sending his chair clattering to the ground with a loud thud. “Owen, listen to me-“ I began, but he was already fleeing.

I ran after him, brushing my hand on his back when we made it to the hallway outside of the kitchen. He pushed me away violently without looking back. “Don’t touch me!” he roared. I fell back and leaned against the wall. Daddy was watching from the top of the stairs, still smoking his cigarette. We stared after Owen as he ran out the door and sprinted onto the street. “Where’s he goin’?” I gulped, placing my hands on my stomach.

“You better get on your knees and pray, Pearl,” Father said in between heavy drags of his smoke, “Better pray that Jake ain’t home because this boy’s set to kill.”

My heart abruptly sank. Momma was standing behind Father, mirroring my horrified expression. “Call him, Pearl. Call him!” she shrieked.

I rushed to the phone, stumbling with fear. I dialed. He didn’t pick up. “Momma! He isn’t answering!” I cried, feeling tears running down my face. The thought of losing Jake sent my heart wrenching. I felt the chilling sensation of dread run through my body. “Momma! Give me the keys to the car!” I ordered. Momma stepped forward hurriedly to the front table and unlocked the little drawer in it with shaking hands.

She placed the keys in my hands and I ran outside. The neighbors stared at me, with my hair up and nightgown on, I looked like a crazy person. I raced through town, hoping to catch Owen on his way to Jake’s house, but I knew that he must have taken another turn away from the road. “Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake. Please don’t be home. Don’t be home, Jake,” I muttered under my breath.

I arrived at the periwinkle blue house. And sighed in relief because Owen hadn’t arrived yet. He was working on the truck outside in the garage. When he saw me, he raised a grease-smudged arm over his eyes, squinting in the morning sun. “Pearl?” he asked as I got out of the car.

He glanced at my outfit and laughed a little, “Whatcha doin’ wearing that? Couldn’t wait to see me?”

I ran to him. “Jake, get in the car with me! Come on, let’s go,” I urged, tugging on his hand.

His smile vanished. “Is he here?” he asked sternly.

I nodded violently. Jake instinctively placed a hand on my stomach. “Pearl. Get in the house. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Jake. Please. Please,” I whispered, “Let’s go. You don’t have to fight.”

“I do. Now get in the house,” he instructed.

“Jake, please. He’s gonna kill you!” I shrieked, but it was too late.

Owen’s voice sounded behind me. “Jake, you piece of shit!”

“Get in the house, Pearl!” Jake barked at me, eyes set on Owen’s hulking frame behind me. I turned to see him barreling forward. Jake pushed me aside, behind him, and I backed away. “Owen, please don’t,” I pleaded.

“Be quiet!” Owen spat.

“Look, your problem is with me,” Jake said calmly, “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“You waited for me to leave? Is that it, Jake? So you can fuck my girl?”

“She ain’t your girl. I’m not gonna fight about her. It’s done. I’m sorry,” he spoke with such determination, but I found myself wincing, cradling my forehead in my hands.

“It’s done?” Owen hissed, “You call the fucking shots? Be a man.”

“There’s nothing to fight about,” I whispered.

“Shut the hell up, Pearl! You’ve done enough!” Owen hollered at me. It seemed like he was on the verge of tears.

This was when Jake pounced on him. He threw a right hook right onto Owen’s left cheek. Owen responded just as violently, throwing a punch at Jake’s left side that sent him reeling. Owen threw himself at him. This was not a boxing match; it was a full on brawl. Jake was punching Owen’s torso with his left arm and trying to protect his head with his right. Owen was pounding on his face. I watched, frozen in place, as blood spurted out from Jake’s nose; his left eye was already a violent red and purple.

Then I remembered Owen telling me about his stepfather. I beat him till I couldn’t see straight, he’d said. I jumped. “Owen, stop! Owen, stop!” I shrieked, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to push him off. “I need him, Owen! Stop!” I sobbed. He kept going, ignoring my cries. I found myself crying nonsensically. Jake was close to unconsciousness, blood was seeping into the ground. Abruptly, Owen quit. He looked up at me with soft shoulders and a defeated expression on his face. “What?” he asked.

And that was when I realized that I had been yelling. “Stop Owen! I love him. Stop! I love him!”

“I love him,” I whispered through my tears, tracing a protective circle around my protruding middle. “And I need him.”

With that, Owen slowly got up and looked down at Jake. He was on the floor, moaning softly, “Owen. I’m sorry. It wasn’t our intention. I’m sorry.”

Owen wiped sweat and blood off his brow, pulling up his jeans in exhaustion. With an air of indifference, Owen muttered, “Get him to the hospital.” He spit on the floor, next to Jake's head.

Then he turned on his heel and walked away.