Pearl

The day after deciding to tag along on the trip to New York, I was shopping downtown for groceries. I was juggling some tomatoes in my hands when I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw snowy skin and ebony hair. Olive.

"Hello there, Pearl!" she cried with her lithe little grin. I didn't quite know what to say, so I settled on smiling back and greeting her back. "Hi, Olive."

She wore a black lace dress that exposed too much of her frosty white skin. I tried not to stare at her figure. She carried a brown paper bag full of groceries. "I'm just getting some stuff to make dinner tonight for that old fart, Owen."

"Me too. Well, not for Owen, I'm just picking up some things for dinner tonight."

"Aw, look at us! Two domestic queens," Olive snickered. Her crimson lips didn't relinquish that smile. A rush of realization spreads through her face and she cries, "Would you mind coming home with me real quick and showing me how to make something? I am just awful at cooking and Owen always raves about your recipes. Please? Just a little bit of your time would make all the difference."

She bit her lip and her blue eyes were too bright to reject. "Um, sure," I find myself saying. She was too glittery to ignore. It was hard to explain.

"Oh, you're a star!" she cried and threw her arms around me.

She waited outside for me as I quickly purchased my own groceries. Then she led me down the street and towards the big white house that I knew was hers. She kept talking and laughing about her life. Things like "And so Owen drove me down to Macy's and bought me that dress and then I just gained so much weight from all the milkshakes that I only wore it that one time, that one time at the store!"

I laughed nervously at all of her jokes. She looked like a movie star, like a brunette Marilyn Monroe. Frankly, I'd never known anyone like her.

She led me past the picket fence and vivid green lawn. I watched as she unlocked the great big door and said, "Welcome to the Weaver residence!"

It was apparent that Olive had spent her time decorating the house. There was bright furniture everywhere and Vogue magazines strewn about. It also smelled like perfume.

Despite knowing exactly where he was, I found myself asking, "Is Owen home?"

She eyed me cautiously before putting a blood colored nail to her matching lips and shaking her head no. "No, Pearl. But he will be soon."

"Show me to the kitchen then," I murmured and she spun around and led me to the bright pastel yellow kitchen. It looked like it hadn't been touched.

"What do you want to make?" I asked her.

"I just wanted to make something you would make," she muttered as she took out a celery stick from her grocery bag and inspected it. I laughed at her incredulous expression.

We made spaghetti and meatballs. Olive was good at learning and picked everything up fairly quickly. It was a while later that I realized I had to run home to cook dinner for my own family.

"Thank you, Pearl. You have no idea how much I appreciate this." She gave me a kiss on the cheek and hugged me tightly.

Just as I let her go, the door opened and shut and in walked Owen. He was sweaty from his time at the gym and was rubbing his face with a towel. "Pearl?" he asked.

"Hi Owen," I murmured. He smiled at me despite his surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just showing Olive a thing or two about cooking," I muttered, "I'm going to head out now though."

Olive grabbed my hand and said, "Thanks again, Pearly. You're a great friend."

I grinned at her and made my way out of the house. Owen soon followed. "Wait, Pearl."

He grabbed the grocery bag from my arm and said, "Here. Let me help you." He towered over me as we walked.

"My house isn't too far, you know. I'm fine," I said.

"Let someone help you for two seconds," he said exasperatedly.

I gave him an annoyed look. "Fine, help me, kind sir. I can't walk two blocks with things in my hands!"

"Well, look who has a sense of humor?" Owen joked.

"It's been here all along, Owen," I replied.

He threw me a stony glance. "I don't know what I was thinking, Pearl. You don't like me at all."

I was shocked into silence. Again, Owen had the uncanny ability to say things I didn't want to acknowledge out loud. I stopped walking and he did too. I watched as he hiked up the grocery bag in his arms.

"Why did you ever think I liked you?" I muttered.

"I don't know, I guess we believe what we want to believe. Don't worry though, I'll leave you alone now. You got what you wanted," he said and turned away and continued walking forward.

"You know, I don't know what idea you had about me, Owen, but-" I didn't finish my sentence because I realized I didn't know what to say. And then I realized that I liked that he liked me. It was flattering to say the least.

Owen looked at me for a second, waiting for me to finish my sentence. And then the words rolled off my tongue, "Owen, where are your parents?"

His mouth dropped in surprise, "You know. Everyone here knows. My father died of pneumonia in '52 and my momma drowned in the lake." He ended his sentence and I knew by the resolute line of his mouth, that he would not discuss it further.

We didn't say anything for a minute. Then he looked at me and said, "What does that have to do with anything? Why did you ask that?"

I hesitated, "I don't know. I don't know what that had to do with anything."

He eyed me suspiciously and then shook his head. "Pearl, let's just be friends then. Let's just be friends," he sighed.

"Fine, we'll be friends," I replied dryly.

We were nearing my house. Just as we reached the drive, Owen stopped and handed me the grocery bag. My hands grazed his ivory forearms as we did this. There was a surge of electricity and shock and Owen's blue eyes darkened.

Then he did it again. He kneeled down, pushed the ends of my hair to my back and then he kissed me. Softly and slowly. I was so surprised that I froze. Then I stepped back, moving away from his touch.

"Owen, no. My father wouldn't like it," I muttered.

He laughed. "Really? I think he would. His favorite boxer and his favorite girl? It would be fine."

I smiled softly at his remark and then whispered, "You silly man," before walking up the walkway and into the house.