Charlie and Pearl

by Robinson, Tammy

  “What do you mean, ‘looking after myself properly’, you think I’m not capable?”

  I looked after myself just fine after you fell to pieces, is what I wanted to say but didn’t.

  “Not at all, I just meant, you know....” she trailed off.

  “I don’t need checking up on mum, I’m fine”

  “I’m sure you are, but there’s nothing strange about a mother wanting to spend some time with her daughter is there?”

  Well yeah, there is actually, I thought but didn’t say. My mother had never been particularly maternal. She wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t a ‘cook you chicken soup when you’re sick’ or ‘hug you when you’re crying’ kind of mum. More of a, ‘there, there, here’s a pat on the back and now that’s quite enough of that thank you very much’ kind.

  So I took a wild guess.

  “She told you didn’t she”

  “Who told me?”

  “Mum” my voice was a warning, “don’t play games. Gran’s told you hasn’t she”

  She caved. “Yes, she has”, she admitted.

  “I can’t believe she did that!”

  “She was only doing what you should have done! Don’t you think your parents have the right to know?”

  “Parents? You’ve told dad too?”

  “Of course I have! I had too, you must understand that”

  “No I don’t actually. It’s my business and nobody else’s. She had no right”

  “Don’t be mad at her, she loves you. We all do. I just can’t believe....you’re...my little...”

  Then she started crying so I gave in, stopped arguing. I hadn’t heard her cry since dad left.

  “Mum, I’ll see you tomorrow”

  “We need to talk about it Pearl”

  “No” I said, cold, my voice a warning, “we don’t.”

  I told Charlie I needed a couple of days off, by myself. He was as understanding as usual.

  “Sure,” he said, and then ten seconds later, “hang on, when you say ‘by yourself’ do you mean I should or shouldn’t come out to see you after work?”

  “Shouldn’t”

  “Oh. Ok, sure.”

  I sighed, “Charlie, it’s not personal, I just want to do a little reading, and...” thinking quickly, “...maybe clean the Beach house up, I haven’t done any cleaning since I’ve been here and it really needs a good going over.”

  “I could help...if you like?”

  “No, it’s my job, not yours. I’m sure your mum’s missing you too; you haven’t slept at your place for ages”

  I didn’t tell him my mum was coming. I hadn’t told either about the other yet. If I told him she was coming he would wonder why I didn’t want him to meet her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to; I just didn’t want him to. Yes I’m aware that makes no sense. I couldn’t explain it, this desire of mine to keep these two worlds separated for as long as I possibly could.

  CHARLIE

  I miss her. Which I know makes me sound like a total loser because it’s only been a few days, but I don’t care. Paint a big L on my forehead and be done with it.

  At work I realise how popular she’s become, people ask where she is when they come in to buy their newspapers. “Where’s your better half” more than one of them asks me. It makes me feel proud. We are obviously ‘a couple’ in other people’s eyes as well as my own.

  The fact she wants some time out to clean the Beach house doesn’t surprise or bother me, just the opposite, it makes me happy to know she is house proud after all as I was starting to worry just a little. I tried quietly to clean the place up without her noticing; doing the dishes after she cooked, even though it seemed like she used every bowl and every utensil on purpose. I pick up her clothes at night and put them on the dresser table, she seems to drop them wherever she sheds them; I find her knickers in the lounge or even on the deck.

  But I am surprised she needs time alone to do it. Is she embarrassed? She shouldn’t be. It would take more than a messy house to turn me off. Has she got her period again? That could explain why she was a little bit tense and snappy and less than patient when she told me she needed a couple of days of.

  I asked mum what made her happier when she was suffering her ‘time of the month’.

  “Chocolate” she said, after thinking about it. “And to be told I’m beautiful when I’m feeling like a fat, bloated whale”.

  “Ohhhkaay”

  “Honey,” she said, “I know boys have their own issues with hormones during puberty, with your balls dropping and your voice changing and everything...”

  “Geez, don’t hold back mum”

  “...but that only lasts, what a couple of years, and then you’re through it right? You have NO idea what a woman has to deal with month after month for most of her life, bloating and fluid retention and raging hormones and cramps and low iron levels and bloody acne and stray hairs in random places, and the only time it stops is when you hit menopause and oh boy, don’t get me started on that”

  I was already wishing I hadn’t got her started on this. “Don’t worry, I won’t”.

  So I thought about what she said and I went and bought Pearl some Cadbury Old Gold (70% cocoa – the good stuff that I know she likes), and a pretty pink with yellow flowers wheat pack, one you’re supposed to heat up in the microwave (to help with cramps) and some of those girly gossip magazines she likes. All day at work I thought I was the bee’s knees as far as boyfriends go, and once she saw what I’d got for her I was sure I would be earning some serious brownie points.

  Do you want to know what I thought when I saw another car parked out front of the Beach house? Honestly, I put two and two together and came up with five. I thought the fact that she’d asked me to stay away and the red Holden Astra meant that right then she was inside with another guy, someone from the city.

  Did I stay or did I go?

  I stayed. I marched up the deck to the ranch slider, ready to knock someone’s block off (desperately hoping he was smaller than me) and stopped short when I saw Pearl sitting up at the breakfast bar, her beautiful legs dangling in some cute white denim jeans I hadn’t seen before. It’s funny the things you notice in a crisis situation. Her face went pale when she saw me, (well, paler than normal) which only made me sure I was right.

  “Where is he?”

  “Charlie, what are you doing here?”

  We spoke at the same time.

  “Wait” she said, “what?”

  “Surprising you!”

  “Woah you two” laughed a woman I hadn’t seen because she’d been in the shadows of the kitchen. She walked around the corner of the bench and I knew straight away it was Pearl’s mum, she had the same eyes and chin, but with more wrinkles and a little extra padding.

  “How about you speak one at a time?” she suggested.

  Pearls eyes were narrow; she knew what I had been thinking. “Idiot” she said.

  “Sorry”

  “We’ll talk about it later”

  Her mum watched us curiously. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asked.

  “Mum, Charlie, Charlie, Mum”.

  “Nice to meet you” her mum said.

  “You too....?”

  “Claire”

  “...Claire”.

  “And Charlie is...?”

  “A friend” Pearl said, a little too quickly for my liking.

  A friend?

  PEARL

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed at Charlie when mum left the room to go to the toilet.

  “Oh! I forgot... wait there” he ran out to his car and came back carrying a silver gift bag with an elaborate curly gold bow on the top. “I got you these” he said proudly.

  I opened it. Chocolates and some weird kind of little bean bag?

  “It’s a wheat bag” he explained. “You stick it in the microwave for a couple of minutes and it provides relief.”

  “Relief from what?”

  “You know” he gestured toward
s my pelvic region, “cramps and stuff”

  “Cramps? Oh Charlie, you really are an idiot aren’t you”

  “I thought you were having your period!”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Uh, never mind” he backtracked.

  “It’s a sweet, if misguided, gesture. Thank you” and I pecked him lightly on the lips then moved quickly away.

  Mum came back in the room followed by Gran.

  When mum turned up the other morning I walked out to meet her, summoning a smile even though I felt in a small way like my world was being invaded, and then I saw Gran in the passenger seat. She looked much smaller than the last time I had seen her, which had only been a few months previously. She looked at me, nervously.

  Shit. It was easy to be mad when she wasn’t right in front of me. Looking at the wrinkled face I knew as well as my own, I softened. I was so scared of losing her. The others were hard enough, but this one.

  She’s my Gran.

  I can’t imagine my life without her. She got out of the car.

  “My darling” she said, holding out her arms, “can you forgive your old gran?”

  I hugged her tightly in answer.

  She’s insisted on sleeping in the spare room, which feels weird to me.

  “Nonsense,” she said, “this is your home right now; I’m just a guest”

  When she came into the dining area and saw Charlie her eyes lit up.

  “Hello Charlie,” she said, “Claire’s told me you’re a friend of Pearls?”

  “Yes, a friend”, he emphasised, shooting me a slightly hurt look.

  “Well you must stay for dinner”

  “No!” I said, a little too loudly. They all looked at me, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure Charlie has other plans.” I willed him to understand. It went right over his head.

  “Nope” he smiled, “no plans at all. I’d love to stay”.

  Much later, after dinner was eaten (Gran whipped up a quick and delicious meal of Mussels in white wine, garlic and onion cream sauce with grilled bread) and Mum and Charlie were doing the dishes, Gran led me by the elbow out onto the deck. Our breath was frosty, cloudy in the air.

  “How are you love?” she asked.

  “Fine”

  “I’ve been thinking, maybe we should get a second opinion?”

  “No Gran” I warned, checking to make sure Charlie was still out of earshot. “What’s done is done, just leave it”

  “But...”

  “No! It’s my choice”

  She changed tack. “You and Charlie seem close”

  “We’re friends, that’s it.”

  “That’s not it for him. Any fool can see how he feels about you”

  I rubbed my eyes, tired. “Stop it Gran. I’m tired. I’m going to bed”

  “Have you told him?”

  “No. And you’re not going to either, promise me”

  “It’s not right Pearl”

  “Maybe not, but it’s my choice”.

  CHARLIE

  I’m not sure what the tension’s about between them but there’s definitely something. All through the dinner I could see Claire and Pearl’s Gran watching her eat, exchanging pained glances. Once I even thought I saw a tear emerge from Claire’s eye and start its journey down her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly before I could be sure.

  What was the deal with that?

  I couldn’t catch Pearl alone to ask her about it. They ate with us, then I did the dishes with Claire and next thing Pearl was making her excuses, saying she was tired and needed to go to bed.

  It was 9.00pm.

  I couldn’t very well follow her could I? After all the emphasis she’d put on us being only ‘friends’. She was quite clear she didn’t want me to stay on without her either.

  “Night Charlie” she said, pointedly.

  “Oh no, stay for a Baileys with us” Claire smiled.

  But the look I got from Pearl clearly said ‘do so and die’ so I made my excuses, told them I was delighted to have met them, and left, more confused than when I’d arrived.

  PEARL

  I couldn’t sleep because as much as it pissed me off I knew Gran had a point.

  But I couldn’t tell him.

  I just couldn’t.

  Charlie is my one escape from reality. Sure, I might sometimes treat him as if I could give or take him, but truth be told that’s just an act. The two days apart after our first fight without contact proved that. He lasted longer than I did. Somehow, over the last few months, I’ve begun to depend on his presence in my life.

  How the hell did this happen? I didn’t come here looking for this. I came here to get away, to have a break and come to terms with a few things. Instead I met a blue eyed boy and my head is more stuck in the sand than it ever was. I haven’t made any plans, thought about...the things...that I was supposed to be here thinking about.

  Denial.

  My most favourite place in the whole wide world right now is in the ‘cave’ with Charlie. Our cave is something we discovered the day after the first night.

  The next day at the Beach house we had more time (and sobriety) to explore each other. His body was beautiful, the top half, from his shoulders to his waist, was slightly longer than the length of his legs. I can’t say I ever noticed it when he’s standing, but examining him in bed I measured it with my hands. He wasn’t ‘buff’, but I’ve never liked that body builder look anyway. I preferred arms like his; sinewy, trim, taut.

  The Cave is where we retreat to when we’re alone together. We pull my cream duvet over our heads until it’s just us blocked off from the world and we make love, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s sweet and tender and warms my soul.

  I’m not planning on doing anything to ruin it.

  CHARLIE

  On the Sunday I got a text from Pearl. ‘Coast is clear – you can come back’.

  So I went round. I expected her to maybe grovel a little, be apologetic, to have some sort of explanation for the way she’d acted but no, she was fine, behaving as if the last few days were normal.

  Huh?

  “Um, Pearl” I said, when we were side by side in her bed, enjoying a post coital rest. I traced my fingertips along her collarbone. “Do you want to tell me why you didn’t want me anywhere near your family?”

  She sighed and rolled away, her back facing me. It was a very disapproving back. “Not really” she said.

  “Are you ashamed of me?”

  She rolled half back, looked at me over her shoulder, a frown line between her eyebrows. How have I never noticed that blue vein on her temple before?

  “Don’t be an egg Charlie”

  “I wasn’t trying to be”

  “Look, it’s not personal ok?”

  I’d heard that before and I was starting to disagree. It certainly felt personal. But I just murmured a noise of agreement.

  She rolled back towards me, lifting my arm and borrowing underneath it, placing it around her shoulders. Her face was all smiles again, like the sun had just popped out from behind a cloud.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  Later that night, while we drank Milo and watched American Idol, (“I can sing better than all of them” she scoffed, but I’d heard her sing in the shower and she couldn’t. At all) I broached the subject again.

  “You know you can tell me anything right?” I said, massaging her back.

  “I know”

  “I mean, like, anything”

  “Yeah, you can tell me anything too”

  “I don’t have any secrets”

  “Are you saying I do?”

  “Do you?”

  “No”

  “Well...that’s good then”

  “It is good”

  And then she started stripping off her clothes for bed and that was the end of that conversation.

  PEARL

  So excited!

  Tonight’s the night. I’ve been planning it for two weeks solid for every waking
hour it feels like, and Charlie has been super supportive from the sidelines. I got the idea from an evening a friend of mine went to once and told me about. It was held at a book store and they got to drink champagne and listen to some well known authors. She said it was great, although she drank so much champagne and refused to buy any of the books (because they were utter crap she said) so they asked her politely to leave.

  I proposed to Charlie that we hold one here, but he said it sounded a bit ‘fancy’ and wasn’t really something he thought our ‘clientele’ would go for. So I thought about it some more and suggested that we make it a Books and Beer night instead, and instead of well known authors (because I didn’t know any) we get some local talent in and make it a competition night of sorts, like Karaoke but with short stories and poems. The audience would be the judge and the prizes would be vouchers, or something.

  “Ok,” he said, “But how about we call it Poetry, Piss and...What’s another word starting with P?”

  “No”

  Getting people interested proved difficult at first. I made posters up on the computer at work and put them up in other shop windows.

  “How lovely” said Julie from the gallery next door, and a glint came into her eye, “I dabble in the art of the written word myself, as it happens, erotic poetry.”

  “Er...great” I said

  “I suppose it’s not quite what you had in mind though”

  “Not at all! Please come, we’d love you to read us something”

  “Oh well if you insist my dear, now, however will I narrow it down to choose just one?”

  Putting the posters up at the pub produced the response Charlie predicted. “We’ll be laughed out of town,” he said, “You wait and see”.

  And laugh they did. These big, burly men drinking beer out of jugs watched with interest as I pinned the posters on the board and cello taped them to the windows.

  “What’s this?” one asked.

  I explained.

  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha, they all said.