Shattered Pearls

by Sidney Parker

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a psychologist. She primarily works with women in abusive relationships, and that’s the topic she’s speaking on, domestic abuse—the need for more safe houses and the education to help eliminate the women from returning to the same situations over and over again. She does a lot of work for a shelter back in Phoenix that she helped start up.”

  “Wow! She sounds like quite the woman.”

  “She is. I just love her. Andrea is amazing.”

  Walking next to Elliot, I had so many questions, so many thoughts. At the same time, I was afraid of what some of the answers might be. Did I really want to know? What if he was married or in love with another woman? I could feel myself wanting to pull back a bit, to protect myself from the inevitable hurt he might cause. Old habits were hard to break.

  As if knowing what was happening, he turned me so I was facing him. Reaching out to me, he softly caressed my cheek, simply looking into my eyes and reading my fears and my thoughts.

  “I need to see you. I have questions for you and I have some of the answers you might want. At least what I can answer. We have a lot to catch up on and even more we need to talk about. Can I see you while you’re here?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “There is so much I want to know, that I need to know.”

  “Meet me for breakfast. I’ll be back here in the morning, waiting.”

  He leaned into me and his lips gently brushed mine. His fingers tanged in my hair, pulling me close to him. Touching his face with my fingertips, I deepened the kiss, drinking from him as if this moment could quench a thirst that had been inside of me forever. My body melted into his and I could feel him, his desire … every inch of him wanting me, and it made my insides turn to liquid and burn. Stepping back, he released me, touched my face, and smiled at me one more time before he turned back toward the street and walked away.

  I touched my lips with my fingertips, just standing there for a moment, dazed. I watched him until he disappeared. Years ago, Elliot would have never kissed me like that and walked away. I wouldn’t have let him. Slowly, I made my way inside.

  Andrea sat on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand and motioned to the other glass she’d placed on the table in front of her.

  “Was that Elliot?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. She had obviously been watching from the balcony.

  “Yes,” I told her and fell back into the chair. “That was most definitely Elliot.”

  “Details! Don’t leave anything out.”

  The blinds were closed. All the doors were locked up tight. For once, the nosy guy across the street wasn’t in his garage. The neighbor next door was out of town, making this so fucking easy. The idiot left his ladder on the side of his house.

  Quietly I went to work, snipping and pulling up carpet strips that bitch put along the top of her wall. Just enough. She thought she was so fucking smart, that she could stop me.

  Headlights flashed as a car came slowly around the corner. Moving at a crawl, they were checking things out, then moved on. Idiot cops! I continued removing the metal strips, a giant grapefruit tree concealing me from nosy pain in the asses. Last one. I dropped back to the ground and looked toward the street. No one was around. Quickly, I set the ladder back and threw my tools into my back pocket. Pulling the hood over my head, I ambled toward home whistling an old Nazareth tune, “Now You’re Messing with a Son of A Bitch.”

  Almost time, babe, almost time.

  EMILY

  I told her of my chance encounter on the beach and everything that had transpired between the two of us … our conversation, how he reacted, and how it all made me feel. My hope and my confusion in all of it. She sat back and listened, waiting for me to finish. I was out of breath when I stopped talking and dampened my throat with the wine she had poured for me. Andrea sat there, deep in thought.

  “You know God has a plan in all of this, don’t you?”

  I just nodded. I knew this, but deep down I still wasn’t sure if I believed it. I was still very new at the whole faith thing.

  “I think your answers will come in time. You both have a lot of catching up to do. What time does your workshop start tomorrow?”

  “Ten. I forgot to mention it to him, so hopefully he comes early. I don’t know where he lives or how to get ahold of him,” I fretted.

  “I have a feeling he will be very early.” She smiled at me.

  I wished I could be as calm as she was; I was going crazy inside. I still couldn’t believe that I actually ran into him.

  Andrea got up and finished off her wine and set the glass in the sink.

  “I’m heading to bed. Five thirty comes way too early. Should I wake you up then or do you think you can get up on your own? Or will you even sleep?” She laughed knowingly at me.

  “No, I will be up, I’m sure.”

  And I was. With the way my thoughts were racing, I wasn’t sure if I could even shut it down, much less sleep. After a nice long shower, I curled up under the covers, and surprisingly, drifted quickly off to sleep.

  I woke with a start early the next morning. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was 5:25. I got up and grabbed my favorite beat up old jeans and a T-shirt. I added a sweater over my shoulders for the early morning chill and an air-conditioned room. A day of sitting required comfortable clothing. I wasn’t there to impress anyone, well … maybe not at the seminar.

  Spritzing some water on my hair, I fluffed out my curls and applied a bit of makeup and brushed my teeth. Maybe I could’ve taken a bit more time on my appearance—years ago I would have, but now, I am who I am. Love it or go away. I walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and found Andrea heading out the door. We planned on meeting later and catching dinner.

  “Leave me a note or text me if the plan changes,” she told me with a smirk.

  “It won’t,” I assured her and she just laughed and opened the door to leave.

  “Tell it to your prince out there. He’s been wearing out the sidewalk for the last ten minutes.”

  I rushed out onto the deck to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. There was Elliot, strolling back and forth in front of the beach house. I waved and headed down to greet him.

  “Hi” he said, looking at me. “You look beautiful.”

  “Hi yourself. My workshop is at ten this morning.”

  “I know. Let’s go grab breakfast. We have time to catch up a little beforehand.”

  Reaching out his hand to me, I took it, and we started walking up the hill toward the town square.

  “Wait!” I stopped him. “How do you know what time my workshop is?”

  “I’m leading it.”

  What are the odds of that? We both just started laughing and headed into town. This felt good … really, really good.

  We picked up breakfast and sat outside at one of the little cafe tables by the restaurant. Our conversation flowed smoothly back and forth. None of the awkwardness I would’ve expected after all this time and our given history.

  I told him about my work, editing, and my desire to write again, my friends, what I had been doing the past seven years. Some things, like my stalker problem, I omitted, not wanting to get into it. It felt so good to enjoy this moment instead of stressing about what could go wrong or what was happening back home.

  Elliot told me more about his writing and his travels, which seemed be a constant in his life. His books were action-filled political mysteries with a bit of love thrown in. They always hit the bestseller list. I was in awe of his writing career and all the places he had traveled. I dreamed of being able to do that someday.

  I asked him about the workshop, and he explained how he put them on several times a year to jumpstart aspiring writers. It was his way of giving back. He didn’t use his name when he advertised the seminars because he wanted to keep the groups small and intimate.

  I felt relaxed, just sitting here, listening to Elliot. I kept watching him as he talked to me. His face was so full of em
otion when he spoke of his writing and some of the crazier experiences he’d had. When we were together, he was known but nothing like now. It seemed like Elliot went from being a recognized author to a bestselling one overnight. I was happy for him, for his success, and just a bit envious.

  He never once asked me if there was someone in my life, if I was single. In fact, we didn’t discuss the “we” part of the equation at all. In some ways that was good because I didn’t have the answers yet. I knew I still loved him and I missed him. But … I didn’t know where he was with everything and it didn’t seem to be coming up. He told me he missed me and the kisses? His kisses melted my frigid heart in seconds. I craved those lips on mine again. But, I was afraid of spoiling what we had going right now by bringing it up myself.

  Time went quickly as we talked, too fast, as the need to head over for the workshop came before I knew it.

  “The workshop is north a few blocks in the back room of my favorite restaurant,” he told me.

  He grabbed our garbage left from breakfast and deposited it into a trashcan by the door and held out his hand to me. Rising up from my chair, I took it and followed him again as he led the way, his finger caressing mine softly as we walked. Just his touch sent shivers racing over my body.

  The restaurant was a quaint little Italian place with signs boasting of everything being homemade. The aroma of the kitchen nearly brought me to my knees as we stepped inside. It was fantastic. Fresh bread, spicy sausage, and garlic … my mouth started watering and my stomach grumbled. I laughed out loud because I had just eaten. Elliot turned and laughed with me.

  “My stomach does that every time I walk into this place.”

  The room where the workshop was being held was set up with tables and chairs in a semicircle around a small podium. There was room for twenty-five people. It looked cozy with the padded leather chairs and white cloths covering the tables off to the side.

  Baskets of bread sticks were placed on each table along with an array of sliced breads and olive oils for dipping. A small buffet was also set up with a selection of beverages and other snacks. I was really impressed now. I looked at Elliot and he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I always got hungry when I attended workshops, so when I have one, I make sure there is food available,” he explained.

  I remembered Elliot was always hungry. People started filing in so I took my seat, right in the center, so I could gaze upon him to my heart’s content while he spoke.

  He stood by the door, welcoming people, shaking hands, and hugging a few here and there. Elliot had an easy mannerism with everyone, greeting them all as if he had known them for years. After everyone seemed to be settled in, he walked up front and started to speak.

  Elliot was amazing! His love of the craft came through in every word he spoke. His excitement was contagious and I could see the enthusiasm spreading among every writer in the room.

  The hours flew by like minutes. I had so many ideas I wanted to implement right away. My notebook was crammed with pages of notes I had written. So much so that my fingers were cramping from writing all afternoon.

  He touched on ways to get your creative juices flowing, to setting up a place to write and making a time schedule to do so. He talked about energy suckers and writer’s block and different ways to work through the problems. Tomorrow he said we would discuss writing exercises and the key principles agents looked for in a manuscript as well as sharing some of our works in progress. He answered questions and gave out advice for a good hour after we were done.

  I had planned on leaving when it was over, but he whispered in my ear to wait for him as he walked by me. I texted Andrea, telling her the workshop was running late and I would get there as soon as I could. She texted back telling me that she was catching dinner in San Diego with some old colleagues and that she hoped I would be fine on my own.

  Hmmm … I smelled a set up. I sat back, listening, and waiting for Elliot to finish up. Believe me, it wasn’t hard at all.

  EMILY

  When the last participant finally left, Elliot turned to me. “I’m starving! Would you be interested in an early dinner with me? Or maybe I should say a late lunch? It’s a little after four now.”

  My stomach answered with a loud growl. Guiding me, with a hand on the small of my back, making my entire body tingle from his touch, we made our way to the front of the restaurant. He led me to a table set up in the corner with a window looking out toward the cove in the distance.

  A candle flickered in the center, giving it a glow of intimacy even in late afternoon. He pulled out my chair to seat me and took the chair to my right instead of across the table.

  “I want to be able to touch you without reaching across the table to do so. If you don’t mind, that is,” he explained.

  I simply nodded and smiled at him. I could get used to this.

  The waitress handed both of us small hand-printed menus folded like an invitation and Elliot proceeded to order a bottle of white wine, the house Pinot Grigio. I was flattered he remembered the wine I preferred. A basket of bread and dipping plates appeared next.

  Tearing a piece of bread, he handed it to me. He then took one of the bottles of olive oil and poured it onto a plate, following it with a fragrant balsamic. I dipped my bread, taking a bite. My eyes closed as I savored the taste of the fresh bread and the oil mixed with a spicy herb. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me, his eyes dark, intense, and so serious.

  “We need to talk about us.”

  “Yes,” I managed to reply.

  He turned his chair a bit to face me more easily and took a sip of his wine.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked me.

  Again, I nodded. I seemed to be doing that a lot with him. Not saying anything, just nodding my head in agreement. Words kept escaping me.

  “I screwed up seven years ago when I left. I think I’ve already mentioned that. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed where you were not in my thoughts in some way. I have gone over every single thing a million times and I wish I knew why I did what I did, I really do.”

  I held up my hand to stop him from saying more. I needed to tell him, tell him that it was my fault, all of it, or most of it. He kept taking the blame for my actions and it wasn’t right.

  “Elliot, it wasn’t you, it was me. Back then I was so angry, angry at life and everything in it.”

  He started to protest, but I put my finger on his lips.

  “Let me finish, I need to say this. I’ve always felt like I drove you away. I sabotaged everything. I wasn’t in a good place back then, not for me or for you. I had no confidence in myself. Before you came into my life, everyone left. It’s what I knew, what I grew up believing. So I pulled back, I picked fights. I acted like I didn’t really care. I was so rotten at times. When I think back to that time in my life, I hated myself so much. I was so full of anger. My biggest fear was that you would leave me. I believed it was inevitable, so I made it happen. I never really felt that I deserved you, that I was good enough. When you finally did leave, I blamed you for everything wrong in my life. I’m so sorry and I wish—”

  He took my hand and gently kissed it. His eyes gave me a smile. “I think I knew, deep down, what you were doing. I always wish I’d been more patient and a lot more understanding. You were so young. You weren’t ready yet and you had been through so much.”

  I started to protest because I didn’t remember opening up and telling him about my past, but he held up his hand.

  Elliot continued, “I’m an author, Emily. Do you think I never did a little research on you? I wanted to understand. I wanted to know what you wouldn’t tell me. You didn’t even really know what you wanted out of life, and I felt like I pushed you and pulled you to me. Maybe … seven years ago, we were both just two fucked up people.”

  “I was so messed up,” I admitted. “It took me a long time to get it together. I made so many mistakes along the way. Things I wish I could take back, stupid decisions. It�
�s only in the last year or so that I’ve started to realize that.”

  “What changed? What made you quit being so angry?”

  “I just really hated my life. I didn’t like the person I had become or where my life was heading.” I thought about his question for a minute, looking back at myself the last few years. I swallowed hard and decided to be as honest as I could.

  “I have this amazing group of friends, girlfriends. We were all feeling the same way, but in different ways. We were all running from something in our past rather than facing it head on. It needed to change … we had to make changes. All of us had so many fears and insecurities buried inside that we seemed paralyzed at times, so we decided to take a break. We all quit dating or even thinking about getting into a relationship of any kind until we could fix what was broken inside of us.”

  I looked closely at him, trying to gauge his reaction to what I was telling him. He just sat back, listening. I continued.

  “Andrea, the woman I’m here with, was in a horribly abusive situation that almost killed her. Maggie, a friend of mine since grade school in Minnesota, moved down here after we split up. Chris, her boyfriend, had died tragically in an accident. Then there’s me. You know my history. I’ve been on a self-destructive path for a long time. We all were broken in so many ways, and together, we decided to heal. Of course, the fact that Andrea is a psychologist helped. We were brutally honest and open with each other, and accountable for our own shit. I know this sounds nuts but it’s working. For the first time in a long time, I know I’m okay, I’m happy with me. I have dreams again and I have a desire for something more in my life. I’m still a work in progress but what we’re doing is working.”

  Elliot just kept looking at me. He took my hand in his and held it. I saw him open his mouth several time as if to speak, only to close it again.

  “Emily, no matter what you may have done over the years, I don’t care about your mistakes or any of that. I look at you and I still see the most beautiful woman I have ever known. That has never changed. Don’t take all the blame for what happened between us. It was both you and me. We both messed it up. Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of the chance to see you again, to sit down with you and just talk? To be able to hold you against me and tangle my fingers in your hair? God! Do you get it at all?” He seemed frustrated with me all of a sudden.