That was when Pebble started digging into the whole startup phase in Monica’s basement in Hellerup. She wanted clues to the woman’s psyche. Why Monica, why Monica, what was it about her, about specifically her that made her products so successful? Peter felt more comfortable describing Monica’s production methods, and showing Pebble Nordkyst’s phenomenal growth curves. For Peter it was a matter of matching design types with the right target groups, it was as simple as that.
But if Pebble was going to deliver gold, she needed more. She needed a handle, a hook, she needed that special magic that would trigger her special Nordkyst campaign. Peter was of no help there. He couldn’t follow Pebble’s womanly intuition or give her a whiff of what she needed, but at least he provided her with detailed information whenever she asked for it.
Oh, the Soderland trademark. Pebble sat flipping through the pages of the first American catalogue, the one Nordkyst built around Pebble’s up-close-and-personal approach. Her original campaign set the tone that ran through everything Nordkyst did. Young urban parents’ passion for high-quality cotton, their willingness to cough up substantial sums of money for traditional natural fabrics. That was what Nordkyst’s trademark was all about – the obvious quality of long-lasting cotton clothes alive and well in all the vibrant colors of Scandinavia.
Her job today would be the same as it was two years ago – to cut through to the bone and communicate Monica’s clean Scandinavian design and sense of quality with the same sure distinctiveness as she did in the first campaign. She had to startle and be personal again…The kids are growing up now. Right? Your kids… She knew she could do it. She was still talking to the same people. She’d gotten inside their skins once before. What was to stop her now? But Mel was right, something had to be different…somewhat, slightly, or very different. Growth! That’s it, growth. The world’s changing, you’re changing, your kids are growing up. But some things remain the same. Some values never change – like your desire for quality, like wanting the best for your kids. Even if they do smart talk you at times… She was singing in the rain. Ideas were just popping out of her sleeves. Why shouldn’t the same people be willing to continue spending that extra buck for their pre-teens? Einar’s market research demonstrated that a large part of Monica’s present success was based on repeat customers anyway. Pebble chuckled, it was all there. All the memorabilia, all tucked away in the big blue cardboard box she just lugged down from up on top of one of her bookcases. The box was so ugly and annoying that every time Pebble dusted (which was rarely) she thought about throwing it away – but for some reason she didn’t. Now she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t.
She almost sang. Albert Audibert, you blessed jerk. It was all coming together for her, suddenly, like a divine miracle. Her life was a revelation. She wished she could kiss Irene. I will kiss her, next time I see her. Irene always asked me why I spent my life servicing others. And now that I finally understand what she was talking about, I just can’t figure out why it took me so long to get the message. I must have been blind… Pebble, like most people who receive the gift of sudden insight, was high, doing her own thing and enjoying every minute of it. Insight like that has a way of setting people free. Even if I don’t win the account, it’ll be okay. But she wanted it badly. More than anything, she wanted to prove to herself that she could do it.
Still she couldn’t blot out Albert completely. He’d creep up on her while she was working in the middle of the night. Suddenly she would feel his hands on her body. The memory of his violence was that strong. Every time it happened, her insides would contract in misshapen desire, until, shaking like a leaf, she was able to put things into the right perspective again. Remembering the force of his blow to her jaw helped. Every time she thought of how he hit her – and how hard he hit her – she’d stop in midair as if stunned by life itself. Was that really me? It was so appalling, so atrocious, she could hardly relate to it or believe it really happened.
Still stunned in midair (it happened more than once), she would vow (for the hundredth time) to forget it and him and everything that went with it. But she couldn’t. Something permanent that the universe could not erase happened between them. Some karmic bond, however despicable, now existed even if Pebble never wanted to think about Albert Audibert again. If only I could forget him…It’s just so confusing. It makes no sense at all. Nothing makes sense. She vowed to call Irene as soon as she had her concept and outline down on paper. I needed that French mountain guide like I needed a hole in the head. And she’d try to laugh, but other more unpleasant thoughts bubbled to the surface of her restless mind. But what if he turns up one day – and rings my doorbell? What’ll I do? The very thought made her shiver. She saw herself, caught off guard, in her baggy jogging pants without a trace of make-up on her face, opening the door and looking deep into those eyes. The same eyes she saw and understood so well the day they coupled like fierce, wild animals. She saw herself, trembling like a young deer, while he stood there, sober or drunk, but solid as a rock. Will I be ever be strong enough to deal with him? She wasn’t sure. I don’t think so. I’m just not like that. Never was. She hated herself for being timid in the face of strife, but she knew she was. I might want to change, but there are just some things about being me I’m not going to be able to change. She couldn’t explain to herself how she knew this, but she knew it was true. And besides, I’m afraid of conflict.
Maybe I’ll never be able to disengage myself from Albert completely. Maybe it will never go away, no matter how long I live. Maybe it’s karmic and I knew him before. It was the only way she could explain the sneaking suspicion she had that she’d never forget him, or be free of him, because of the strange moment in time they’d shared. She knew it was more than just sex. Albert hurtled me into space. The man is my karma. No matter how much she hated him, he showed her unexplored depths within herself. But the man violated me – and hit me. Strangely, on some deeper level, she knew it wasn’t his fault - even if he was a jerk. We’re not talking about jerks here – or blame. She couldn’t forget the strange lightness – or the delirious high – she discovered and savored that savage morning before she left him sleeping on that wide, untamed bed. Nothing in life is ever that simple. There’s always a twist. A flaw. A tiny break in the logic of things, in the flow of events, in the linear explanations that say this is life.
It was too hard to think about it, and Pebble hated confronta- tions. No, no, no…let me go…I can’t take it anymore…okay? Pebble buried herself in her work.
Mel called her late the next evening.
“Okay, doll, you’re on.”
“Oh, Mel,” she shrieked with joy into her slim, white mobile, the ultimate in Scandinavian design.
“Whoa, sister…whoa…aren’t you even going to ask me when?”
“Yeah, when?” She was beside herself with joy.
“June 29th at one thirty in the afternoon…and don’t ask me how I did it.”
She danced around her tiny office, shrieking into the phone. “I promise you my stuff is going to be soooo good…I’ll do you proud Mel, I will…”
“You better, or my name is going to be mud over here with a whole lot of very important people…” He laughed, enjoying her joy.
* * *
She took time off on Friday to visit Irene.
“But I thought you were on vacation.”
“I was, until Albert hit me…”
“He did what?” Even Irene paled at the mention of violence. Pebble told her everything, or as much as she could of everything, in as much detail as she could, until she found herself weeping and shaking and unable to describe what happened the morning she left.
Irene didn’t push her.
In fact, Irene treated Pebble differently – like a new person. Like somebody she really respected. She had a nose for change, and she knew some major, important change was taking place in Pebble’s life. When Pebble found herself blocked, stuck, she started talking about other things. “I decided to
pitch for the new Nordkyst account myself.”
“Good for you!” Irene smiled her most significant smile. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear it.”
“I owe you so much, Irene; I’ll never be able to thank you.”
“You don’t have to. This is my job…and my pleasure…”
“You said it all along, only I didn’t understand it before…”
“Said what?”
“Well you used to ask me why I was always servicing other people. Remember? And I used to get so pissed off at you because of course you were right. Only I didn’t see it before now. I didn’t understand that I could do things by myself. And I didn’t believe in my own talent. I just didn’t or couldn’t see who I was or what I can do. But something’s changed…I don’t know how to explain it but for some reason I feel more alive than I’ve felt in years. It’s like I’m high, on a roll, so whatever happens, whatever the outcome of all this I’ll be OK because I’ll know that I’ll have given it my best shot.”
“I’m so glad for you, Pebble, I really am. Congratulations, this is such good news.” Irene waited a moment and then added, “But I don’t understand if everything feels so right, why did you need to see me so badly? You sounded desperate on the phone this morning.”
“It’s Albert.”
“Well, what about him? Why are you wasting your energy on him? You told me you left him.”
“I know…but I didn’t tell you everything…” They were back to the moment Pebble couldn’t talk about. It was like a huge lump in her throat, choking her. “How can I be so powerful, Irene, and be so weak at the same time? It just doesn’t make sense…”
“What are you talking about?” Irene asked kindly and then added, “and where does it say that when you’re a powerful person, when you’re your own person, you’re supposed to feel powerful all the time? You’ve just been through some very traumatic experiences, and I gather you haven’t told me everything yet about your latest adventure…. Do you want to tell me about it now…?”
And when Pebble nodded, but didn’t speak, Irene said, “Well?”
“I don’t know…I’m so…so ashamed…”
“Ashamed?” Irene’s voice was very soft. “Why, Pebble, we’re all just human beings on a learning curve towards greater insight and understanding. Usually what we’re ashamed of is just one of the areas of our lives that we haven’t yet explored and don’t yet understand. And besides, shame is such a non-productive feeling; it doesn’t do anyone any good. Now tell me what happened. It always helps to bring things out in the light and talk about them.”
“After he hit me…” She started to weep. “After Albert hit me…I was so afraid…”
“What did he do, after he hit you …?” She was the midwife, again, kind and helpful, but firm, very firm.
“He raped me…” The words gushed out. “He forced me to make love to him and…” Pebble looked up at Irene as the hot tears poured down her cheeks, “and the worst part of it was I liked it…in fact I loved it…it was the most powerful lovemaking experience I’ve ever had in my whole life…and it was absolutely sick.”
Tears of anger and pain erupted from somewhere deep inside Pebble Beach. “And I hate him for what he did to me.”
Irene didn’t say a word for a long time. She sat very quietly and let Pebble cry.
When she thought Pebble was able to take it, she said softly, “Who did what to you?”
Pebble looked up in surprise. “What do you mean? Albert of course!” Pebble felt her cheeks flush with anger.
“Are you sure it was Albert?”
Pebble gasped. “What are you saying, Irene?
“I’m asking you who did what to you?”
Pebble began sobbing again. “You mean I did this to me?”
“I’m just asking who did what to you, Pebble. There’s no need to be so hard on yourself,” Irene’s voice had softened even more.
There was a long silence.
“You mean I did this to me?”
“Even though you’re a modern woman, Pebble, it’s obvious you weren’t brought up to take care of yourself. It seems you never learned how to set limits and take care of you. And now you’re learning…”
“Oh, why does it have to be so painful?” Pebble cried some more.
“Well, the way I look at it is…it’s like you’re getting rewired. And when this happens, when people undertake this process of self-discovery and relearning, they keep getting themselves into situations that make them face whatever issues they need to face. That’s how the universe works. We always seem to attract exactly what we need.”
Pebble was quiet for a while, contemplating what Irene said.
“But why did I like it so much – even though I hated it?”
“Even though you are in the process of learning to follow your wisdom, it’s not that easy to just step out of patterns of compulsive behavior and suddenly make wise choices. You seem to have a pattern of making choices that obviously are not good for you because you are still projecting your need for safety and protection onto the men in your life, when taking care of you and protecting you is your job. Haven’t you ever heard about addictive relationships before?”
“Well, no, not really. What does it mean – addictive relation-ships?”
“Well we call a relationship ‘addictive’ when a person gets into or stays in a relationship that they know is bad for them…that goes against their better judgment. And they do this because they are projecting some quality or qualities they believe they need onto this person. And when this happens, even though the relationship obviously goes against their better judgment, the addicted person has a compulsive desire to stay in a relationship which he or she doesn’t understand and can’t control. Just like an alcoholic or a drug addict feels a compulsion towards substances which he or she knows are not good for them. There’s something deeper going on in addictive behavior. There is an unmet need that the person is trying to get fulfilled, unfortunately in the wrong place – and until the person understands this, they keep getting themselves into unfortunate relationships and situations.”
There was a long silence then Pebble said slowly, “It does sound a lot like me, doesn’t it?”
“Well there certainly seems to be a compulsive quality to your relationship with Albert because on the one hand you keep saying you know he’s not good for you and yet you keep running off with him and getting yourself into situations that you don’t really want to be in.”
Pebble looked very thoughtful, as if seeing her relationship with Albert in a completely new light.
“So you mean I am looking for something in Albert that isn’t there?”
“Well are you?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Pebble laughing.
“Well what are you hoping to get from him?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Impossible love – and protection and safety and all the stuff he can never give me…”
Again silence.
“You know, Irene, now that all this happened, I’m afraid Albert will get really drunk one day and come knocking on my door.”
“After what you tell me, I’m sure he will – and probably sooner than you think.”
“The thought absolutely terrifies me. What am I going to do if he shows up drunk? I’m so terrified of him when he’s been drinking. He’s impossible to deal with.”
“Pebble, now that you are getting rewired I am sure you will know exactly what to do.”
“Really? But the thought absolutely terrifies me.”
“Are you sure, Pebble? Let’s go through the scenario, Pebble, and see what happens. Imagine he comes to your door, drunk out of his mind – or you meet him drunk on the street outside your building. What will you do? Close your eyes for a minute and go there.”
Pebble closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It wasn’t pleasant to think about, but she did it anyway. She was quiet for a couple of minutes, but then she smiled. “You know you’re right, Irene, I’ll k
now exactly what to do.”
“And what’s that? Tell me about it.”
“I’ll take care of me…” said Pebble slowly.
“And what does that translate into?”
“Well it means not opening the door if he comes to my apartment when he’s drunk and if he calls, it means saying no or hanging up. And it means getting a pepper spray or some kind of alarm in case I meet him on the street. And if he keeps coming around, I will call the police.”
“Good, Pebble, good. So you see you know exactly what to do. There is no excuse for violence or abusive behavior – none whatsoever. But you are the one who’s got to take care of you. You are the one who must set limits. You are the one who must say no. Nobody else can do it for you.”
“Yeah, I can see that now. I guess I should have never gone on vacation with Albert.”
“But the reality is you did, Pebble.”
“But I could have stayed home…”
“Well, until you get more insight into the compulsive nature of your behavior and learn to make better choices for yourself, you obviously can’t because you went.”
“But I still think it’s so perverted that I actually liked the sex.” Pebble was staring out into space again…
Chapter 24
Pebble hung the bold, colorful, comic-strip figures Steffen created for her presentation at strategic positions around Monica Soderland’s bare conference room at company headquarters in Hellerup. His drawings were huge, and fun, roaring with vitality. They’re perfect. Perfect! Pebble loved them. Felt they were her babies. Her fat black portfolio, the one she had so carefully groomed for days, lay pregnant and silent on the big, red conference table. The dramatic white room with the bright red, oval table in the middle, and the spectacular view of the Sound, was exactly the way Pebble expected Monica’s domain to be. Nor would she have been surprised in the least if an honor guard of rock musicians playing Madonna’s latest hit ushered Monica in when it was time for her to arrive.
Adventures of Pebble Beach Page 24