Pearl

My mother had a stroke the day before I was set to leave for school.

She had been washing in the kitchen while all four of us were in the dining room clearing the table. We heard a thud and when we ran to the kitchen, we found Momma on the floor with her eyes rolling back into her head.

We called Father and he came dashing down from the gym. My momma was a small, dainty thing. People always said she looked like Carole Lombard, with her blond hair and blue eyes. My father held her in his arms as we dialed for the ambulance and she looked nothing like she used to. Her skin was deathly white and her lips were blue.

Owen came with my father. He was the one that held me and my sisters back while Father tried to help Momma come back to life. I tore at his collar, screeching, "That's my momma, Owen! Let me go!"

He was a solid wall. He held me close to him and murmured, "The doctor's coming. He's coming and we'll get her sorted out."

His blue eyes were stern and I knew that he was set on making sure my mother would be okay.

The doctor did come and confirm that my Momma had a stroke. She wasn't dead, but she had to be in the hospital for several weeks and would need to rest for several months. My sisters and I held each other in her hospital room while we watched Momma sleep. Owen and Father stood in the back, talking in lowered voices.

My father then called for Claire and I.

"Girls," he started with a very firm voice, "I'm gonna need one of you to take charge of the house. You understand?"

I saw a sour expression cross Claire's face. "Momma will be fine in a few months! Jane and Sarah can manage!"

I gave my older sister a loathing look. She didn't want anything to take away her incoming marriage, not even Momma, who had helped her put the entire thing together.

"I'll stay. I can defer Sarah Lawrence until next year. They'll have to let me when they hear what has happened."

My father looked at me for a long, long time. Then he put a hand behind my neck and pushed my hair back. "Oh, Perfect Pearl," he sighed as he pulled me into a hug.

And that was when I began to cry.

_____

Claire got married two weeks after Momma's stroke. She toned the entire event down, telling everybody that it would be fine if we just made it a smaller affair. Momma hobbled into the church in her buttercup yellow dress. She used a cane to get by. However, she still looked around the church with a defiant expression on her prim face. As if she was daring someone to say something about her condition. She only stayed for the ceremony, kissed Claire and Ernest goodbye, and was driven back to the hospital by Father. She looked more fragile than a china doll the entire time. Claire, however, didn't seem to mind.

I had never disliked her more.

She stood at the reception hall in her ivory dress and her perfect husband, while I stood in my wilting yellow dress with Jane and Sarah. They held onto me like the little girls that they were, as if they were asking if it was alright for them to enjoy themselves when Momma was so ill.

I told them to dance and they did so reluctantly. Father had returned from dropping Momma off and twirled his two youngest girls on the dance floor, it was a valiant effort to make things okay.

I stood alone for a long while before someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Owen. He wore a navy blue suit with a black tie. I smiled at his attire. "Nice suit," I murmured softly.

"I heard that your plans for Sarah Lawrence are off. I'm so sorry to hear that," he said earnestly.

I bit my lip because I didn't want to cry. "Yes. Well, sometimes things don't immediately happen the way you plan them to. I'm still going, just next year," I said defensively.

"I think it's a nice thing you're doing for your family," he muttered.

I nodded because I didn't have anything to really say. Owen seemed to understand my silence and stood there with me while I watched the dancing and cutting of the cake with a reserved expression on my face.

"I'm so sorry, Pearl," he finally whispered as we were about to leave.

I finally looked up at his face and said, "Thank you. I will still see you at dinner tomorrow."

There was the tiniest ghost of a smile on his face as he walked out of the room.