Adventures of Pebble Beach

by Berger, Barbara

  “It’s not true…” her voice sounded lame. She was stunned. She hadn’t noticed the YourLift ads everywhere, she’d just returned from Greenland late the previous night. All she did was hop into a cab at the airport and go straight home and to bed. She’d been delayed five awful days because of the storms that raged along the West Coast of Greenland.

  “I bet he offered you a job, didn’t he?” Pebble wondered how Peter knew. “A position as his own private assistant…”

  Pebble didn’t reply. She couldn’t lie.

  “Pebble, you’re dead in this town. Dead!” The Dane weighed his words carefully. “Nobody’s going to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  “But, Peter, I swear to you it wasn’t me. Honest.” More than anything else, Pebble wanted to cry. No sooner had she extradited herself from one mess, than she found herself in another. But she couldn’t cry. First of all it wouldn’t help, and second of all she was a business woman. Business women in Pebble’s world wore tailored men’s jackets and didn’t cry. “He offered me a job and asked me, I admit it, he did, Peter…” Pebble’s voice sounded shaky, but she forced herself to continue. “…and I was shocked when he did – shocked – it was so…unethical…but I swear to God, I didn’t tell him.”

  “Am I really supposed to believe that?” Peter slung the words at her. “You were drunk. You’re nothing but a dumb broad, like all the rest of them. Maybe you write like a whiz-kid, but Pebble you’re as dumb as the rest of them.” He didn’t know how to insult her. “Maybe you don’t even want to believe you told him…or can’t remember. God, how should I know? You just said he offered you a job…” Peter’s voice trailed off. Pebble was quite sure that if this had been a marital dispute, he would have hit her. He walked over to the window and stood gazing out at the dark lake below. A cold February wind rattled the windows ever so slightly as it blew over Copenhagen.

  Pebble gazed at his back. Nobody would ever believe her – that much was obvious. It would be her word against Peter’s. She could just as well kiss her career goodbye. Peter was a well-respected member of the Danish ad world; Pebble was a new kid on the block. A woman. A foreigner. A whippersnapper. She carried no weight. She was finished.

  Pebble could tell from watching Peter’s back that he’d regained control.

  “Get out of my office, Pebble, right now.” He said it very slowly, without even turning around.

  * * *

  Maybe I really did tell him. Pebble was walking from Peter’s office overlooking one of the Copenhagen lakes towards her apartment on Gothersgade. She moved her body jerkily, as if she was wounded. The grey February day chilled her to the bone. Suddenly Pebble wasn’t so sure of herself. Maybe I really did. It was a shocking thought, but not impossible. She’d seen Albert drink himself to the point where the next day he couldn’t remember a thing he’d said or done. She reminded herself that she had wanted to get that drunk that night at the Hotel D’Angleterre. Maybe she did. She reviewed the scene at the hotel again and remembered how much she hated everything about that night. Einar, you slimy bastard, I’d like to wring your neck. Pebble had a tendency to become surprisingly uncooperative (for such a nice person) when people put pressure on her to do things she considered unethical. She wasn’t a product of her time for nothing. Albert always seems perfectly wide awake and sane when he drinks. He can walk and talk and make love and do just about everything else – he’s just drunk. Maybe I’m as bad as he is and just don’t know it. Maybe I told Einar everything he wanted to know and can’t remember a thing I said or did.

  It just didn’t hold water. I’m not like Albert. But it was hard to throw off the thought. It would explain everything. Why else would Peter accuse her? Whenever I ask Albert about something he said or did when he was drunk, he can’t remember the next day. It’s a total blank. The man doesn’t remember a thing. The wind whipped through Pebble’s hair as she followed Vester Søgade along the lake towards H.C.Andersens Boulevard. I ought to take a cab and go home. But she didn’t. She kept walking into the freezing wind. February’s not your best month in Copenhagen. It’s dark and rainy and if you’re depressed, it will help you stay that way. Maybe I’m not any better than Albert. Maybe I told Einar and now I’m just blotting it out. That’s what Peter implied, but damn – I just don’t remember! God, if only I knew for sure! The uncertainty tore at Pebble’s insides. Just the thought revolted her. No it wasn’t me. I’d never do anything that insane. I’m sure I didn’t do it. I’m sure it wasn’t me… But Pebble wasn’t sure. How could she be? Especially after what she’d just went through with Albert. The past 18 days with Albert had been a real eye-opener. They put things in another perspective. It was frightening.

  Pebble didn’t realize people got like that. It’s hard to believe if you haven’t experienced it yourself. And although Albert was a person she thought she loved – a person who loved her – still she couldn’t trust him when he drank. He might betray her, do something awful, and then not remember a thing. If he could go around and do something and not be accountable for it, why couldn’t I? God, booze should be outlawed. Done away with…I had no idea booze could do that to you… Pebble’s recent encounters had unnerved her. No one out there was protecting her anymore. If I didn’t tell Einar, who did? The uncertainty of her situation struck her like a blow in the stomach. Up until now being newly divorced was a challenge. Fun. But if nobody in town would give her work what would she do? Copenhagen was a very small town. Very tight. Once people bad-mouthed you, you were finished. You couldn’t just pull up stakes and move because there was nowhere to move to. The country was too small. Denmark, the fairy tale country!

  Pebble felt lost. What am I doing here anyway? With two kids? I’ll never really belong! Pebble wished she wasn’t alone. Men are awful nice to have around when the shit hits the fan. I’m old enough to know better. I should have watched out. I should have guessed. Why am I so naive? I might not be the only person in the world that Einar knows – but I was perfect for this… But even as Pebble talked to herself, trying desperately to pull herself out of the black hole she’d fallen into, she knew nobody would offer her a job again. Come tomorrow, the word would be out. Peter Cato was a heavyweight, no doubt about it. He had a track record. Pebble didn’t. Why should anybody believe Pebble? Now I’ll have to take the job Einar offered me. How else will I feed my kids? Einar will even be able to get me cheap. Pebble laughed heartily at the thought. Bastard. But then another, far more chilling thought followed. That is if Einar still wants me. Maybe he only offered me that job to get me to talk. Maybe… The whole sordid mess – the way he tried to manipulate her and play upon her vulnerabilities, weighed heavily on her soul. My phone will never ring again. I’ll be poorer than a church mouse.

  Peter paid me $50,000 for the WonderLift campaign – but how long will that last? After taxes I’ve only got about half left anyway. Denmark isn’t the greatest place in the world to make money. After taxes, most people can go home and lick their wounds. Pebble, who’d been doing nicely, paid almost half of her income in tax. She calculated her expenses. The money wouldn’t last long. Chills ran up and down Pebble’s spine. She saw herself on welfare, shabby and ragged, ashamed to face her friends. Jon and Adam would never buy clothes at G-Star again. It would be just as Slim had predicted – she’d pay for having the gall to leave him.

  When Pebble finally reached her apartment, it was raining miserably. A cold, bone-chilling fog was rolling in over the damp, sleepy winter city. Her light, airy walkup – the one Molly had called “a treasure” on her last visit – was dark and empty. The light of her life (both of them) was gone. She wandered disconcertedly around her empty nest and ended up throwing herself carelessly into a chair in her tiny office. Her desk was still piled high with the messages that had accumulated while she was away. Now they seemed futile. None of the people who called would want her tomorrow. If only I had known, I could have thrown myself into a snowdrift.

  She arrived home from Greenland so late
the night before – in a state of almost manic elation (I survived! I escaped!) – that after talking with Jon and Adam for a long time, she went straight to bed. She hadn’t even looked at her desk. Adam and Jon had told her that Peter Cato had called “dozens of times” but it didn’t register. Both boys kept saying she had to get in touch with him immediately. And Pebble kept replying, “Okay, okay, alright already! I can’t call the man in the middle of the night, can I?” The urgency of the matter didn’t register. It didn’t sink in. She didn’t realize they were telling her something “important.” That this was hot news. She should have noticed, picked up something, especially since they kept insisting. Usually Jon and Adam weren’t that good at delivering messages. But it all passed over her head. She was too elated to notice. She was home! Invincible! Back! That was all she could see. She was back with her kids. Back to her nest. She sensed no danger.

  Next morning she called Peter early, but only spoke to Jennifer who gave no clues. So Pebble’s antennas weren’t out when she walked into the den of the lion. She was as unprepared as a lamb on her way to slaughter. There was even a smile on her face. Pebble rehashed the scene in Peter’s office. Not that being prepared would have helped. How could she have defended herself? Somehow Einar had gotten the word. Jennifer had seen her at the Hotel D’Angleterre holding hands with Einar right after the WonderLift meeting. The evidence, though circumstantial, was damning.

  Pebble reached for the phone. That bastard Einar! She was going to give him a piece of her mind. She started dialing his number, but slammed down the receiver halfway through. Damn! I’m going to need that job. She felt the angry sweat clinging to her body. Pebble had forgotten to take off her coat. She didn’t remove it, but toyed with her keys in the gloom instead. She still hadn’t turned on the light.

  The phone rang and startled her.

  “Hello.” She picked it up automatically.

  “Hi Pebble,” she recognized his voice immediately.

  “Hi,” she was stunned. This is all I need.

  “You don’t sound too great,” he knew her that well.

  “Well maybe I’m not.”

  Damn, she thought, I don’t owe him any explanations. They were divorced now.

  There was an awkward silence. She didn’t ask him how he was. Fuck him.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me when I got back in town?” He sounded cheerful. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in months. Jon and Adam got letters from him, so she knew he was working somewhere in northern Norway.

  “When did you get back?” she didn’t sound convincing. She kept thinking, This is all I need. Why did he have to come back now? He’ll love it when he hears what’s happened.

  “I’d like to come over and see the boys.”

  “Well,” she hesitated; she didn’t want to see him, “why don’t you arrange something with them. They’re not home right now.”

  “Really? Where are they?”

  She didn’t know and didn’t like the way he asked. He’d been out of their life for months, what right did he have? God I hate him. Memories of their marriage came flooding back. He was a jerk. Pebble remembered the euphoria she felt when the divorce came through. Later she discovered that ex-husbands just don’t disappear, they hang around to haunt you. No matter what I do, it’ll never be good enough.

  “Look, Slim, I’ll have them call you when they get home.”

  When they’d hung up, she felt even worse. Albert’s an alcoholic, my career’s over, and Slim’s back. So what else can go wrong?

  * * *

  Pebble woke up the next morning (it was Saturday) with the worst cold she’d had in years. It must be psychosomatic. She could hardly open her eyes. Her nose had turned bright red from blowing it all night and her head weighed a ton. Retribution, she thought. I guess I was just having too much fun. Up until her recent setbacks, Pebble had felt this wonderful sense of elation, like a runaway slave who’d just crossed the Mason-Dixon Line. She’d been on a high, discovering herself, experiencing one long burst of creative energy. She was even making money! But now that the roof had fallen in, Pebble was all snot.

  She dragged herself out of bed and looked at herself in the hallway mirror. This is worse than a hangover. She couldn’t believe she was looking at the woman she thought she liked.

  Jon and Adam comforted her with more news.

  “Dad’s coming over.” They’d talked to him after Pebble had gone to bed early. It was only seven when she went to bed, but Jon and Adam knew their mom was like that at times. “Strange” was how they would have put it. They figured she was just tired from her great adventure to the icecap. She hadn’t told them much about it yet – but she’d hinted at it with remarks about helicopters and skiing and dog sleds. Just enough to get their imaginations working. (She had to keep up her image.) She hadn’t told them about Fem-Ads either. She’d just packed up her gear and gone off to her room. She’d left them a big note on the kitchen table: “JON & ADAM, I LOVE YOU. AM DEAD TIRED. SEE YOU IN THE MORNING. THEN WE’LL TALK. MOM.”

  When they saw her standing in the hallway in her long flannel nightgown looking at herself in the mirror they guided her carefully back to bed. Sometimes sons are that nice.

  “We’ve made breakfast, Mom. Go back to bed and we’ll bring it to you.” Adam opened her curtains a little. The sun shone weakly in through her window. It was still foggy. The huge plant by the window, the one she loved, kept growing. Pebble always marveled when she watched this wonderful piece of tropical greenery in her bedroom. How can it survive? Pebble was convinced this plant was a special miracle, growing solely to give her courage, that’s how little light there is in Copenhagen during the winter.

  Her kids brought in a tray with toast and a hard-boiled egg and wonderful coffee. She was moved to tears.

  They didn’t understand.

  “How sweet,” was all she could mutter between sobs.

  “Aren’t you hungry, Mom?” Adam was always practical. He didn’t like wearing your emotions on your sleeve.

  “We talked to Dad last night, Mom, after you went to bed.”

  “I know,” Pebble dried her eyes, “he called while you guys were out.”

  “We invited him over.” Often, Jon didn’t think about consequences, but his heart was good. Looking at his mom, he realized it might be awkward.

  “I didn’t know you had a cold, I figured you’d be out somewhere.”

  Adam looked at Pebble, “You don’t want to see him, do you?”

  “Not especially,” she replied.

  “We can call him and meet him somewhere.”

  It was hard for the boys to accept that their father and mother weren’t friends.

  It was hard for Pebble to accept, too.

  “Why can’t everybody just be friends?” Jon always echoed Pebble’s thoughts. He was thin and sensitive. Already girls (women) flocked to him, ready to lay down their lives (and bodies) to be near him.

  “Oh my head,” Pebble moaned. She decided to tell them about Fem-Ads. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  She sounded so serious, she caught their attention. Usually their mother was pretty happy-go-lucky. “Do you remember the WonderLift campaign I was working on before I went to Greenland?”

  “How could we forget – you were working on it day and night.” Adam always remembered situations with a cool, clinical accuracy. He was 14 and deep. Pebble sometimes wondered where he got it from. He picked his friends carefully.

  “Well, while I was away, the biggest advertising agency in Copenhagen – the Republic Group – you know Einar Bro – well he’s the vice-president…Well, they launched another product – one that’s very similar to WonderLift called YourLift –13 days before we were scheduled to launch WonderLift.” Suddenly she started crying again.

  “What is it, Mom?”

  They both felt the seriousness of her tears.

  “Peter Cato, he’s the director of Fem-Ads, thinks I told Einar the WonderLift launch date. It wa
s top secret.”

  Jon took her hand.

  “Peter says I’ll never work again in this town.”

  “What makes him think you did it?” Adam asked.

  “His secretary, Jennifer saw me holding hands with Einar at the Hotel D’Angleterre the night after the Fem-Ads meeting. I was pretty drunk, too.”

  “You were holding hands with that creep?” Adam was revolted. Adam had met Einar the night he visited when Molly was there.

  “Well, he took my hand and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Oh come on, Mom, you could have pulled your hand away.”

  “Yes,” Pebble replied carefully, “I could have, but it wasn’t quite that easy. You see Einar has just offered me this great job.”

  “You’re not supposed to hold hands with the men you work for,” Adam shot back.

  “But the worst part of it is – he really did ask when the WonderLift launch date was. But I didn’t tell him, I swear I didn’t.” Pebble started sobbing hysterically and blowing her fiery red nose. “Peter swears he’s going to tell everyone and I’ll never get another job after this – not in advertising anyway.”

  “Oh come on, Mom, it can’t be that bad.” Jon patted her on the back. He always took the philosophical view.

  “What are we going to do? And Slim’s coming this afternoon.” Pebble kept on sobbing.

  “I’ll go and call him.” Adam left the room.

  “I wish I could just disappear,” Pebble said when she stopped sobbing.

  Adam returned, “Sorry Mom, all I got was his voice mail.” That meant he would turn up all too soon. Pebble turned over in bed and moaned. All she wanted to do was hide under her warm down comforter.

  “I think you ought to meet him when he comes,” Adam said as if reading her thoughts. “He is our father.” Pebble could see it was important to Adam.

  “Okay, I’ll try.” She’d do anything for her kids. “Just let me sleep for a while.”