In the House of Spite Ch. 03

Later on, she heard Darren mention something about how his sister got even more food, since she was married. And that was when Pearl learned he had a sister. He even showed her a picture on his phone. She was a beautiful woman, but she wasn't anywhere near as tall as Darren.

Life was busy and full of things.

The thought of Christmas was what ruined everything.

She wasn't doing much, just sweeping the kitchen floor, as she listened to videos on her phone. Suddenly, someone in the video mentioned how Christmas was going to come next month, and that made her think of Jeffery.

Jeffery would always get her whatever she wanted for Christmas, usually a video game or a food item. One Christmas, he got her a gingerbread house kit. Why? Because she said she'd always wanted to make one, and she'd never done so before.

She'd set it up and decorated it all by herself. She'd taken photos and showed it off. Then she'd broken it to pieces and ate as much as she could in one sitting. Jeffery had only shaken his head at chuckled at how determined she was over that stupid thing.

Thinking of Jeffery's kind face and slightly musky scent put a great pain in her belly and heart.

And there was her home. What she considered her true home. Jeffery's place, a comfy but roomy place where she'd been free to do anything she wanted. She couldn't go back. His sister was the owner of the trailer, and Pearl had no rights to it. Besides, after Jeffery died, Pearl couldn't afford to pay rent. She had to move in with her parents.

Her childhood home wasn't a home to her, no matter how much her parents loved her, no matter how welcome she was.

Even if she could go back to her home, Jeffery wasn't there. Pearl would only be torturing herself with missing him, wallowing in his bed, gazing out the front door as if waiting for him, pining for the sound of his voice.

It didn't take long for Pearl to do something she'd normally never do, since she had some mild germaphobe tendencies.

Dropping the broom, she knelt down to the floor, then bent over as if asking for forgiveness from a Chinese emperor. The tears came. The wailing came. The cold tiles were harsh against her hands and face. The air felt heavier. Even after all this time, the ache returned.

Her voice was so loud, so terribly loud. Dog's tongues were on her soon, but they weren't enough to soothe her. It was a gallant attempt. Such good, caring boys. Pearl didn't even hear their whimpers nor their claws on the floor. She barely felt their body heat and coats.

Then, a strong force, fingers on her arm, Pearl was tugged up and she heard this, "Are you hurt?"

Standing. She was standing. Her legs felt wobbly, but she was standing. Then she leaned forward. Reliable, solid muscle. A long sleeved T-Shirt. Darren.

"I'm sorry!" She tried to push herself off of him.

He gripped her upper arms. He smelled like fresh air and clean clothes with just a hint of trees. "What's wrong?"

Pearl wanted to give an excuse, even tried to, but all she could do was weep.

She was leaning on him again, but only because he put her in that spot, her cheek just under his chest.

"What's wrong, Pearl?"

Smooth yet grand. Almost like a movie star. His voice was so wonderful.

"It ... It's Christmas."

His voice rose a tad, just enough to sound like a questioning tone. "What? It's not Christmas yet. It's still November."

"But Christmas ... it's coming." She made the weakest little sniffs as she absorbed as much heat as she could from him. "I thought of Jeffery, and he was good to me, and he loved me, and he got me anything I wanted, and," another sniff, then a cough, "and I can't go home! I want to go back to his house and hug his neck and tell him I missed him!"

Her fingers clawed at the man's shirt. "It's like there was a disaster and we stayed at different houses, and I'm stuck with my parents waiting to see him again! But I'm stuck forever! I know it's greedy to think that way but fuck I want him back!!"

There was around fifteen seconds where she stayed there, clinging to Darren, but then she let him go, pulled his hands away, and stepped back, wiping her eyes and looking down at the broom. Carefully, she knelt down and took the handle. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. It's inappropriate."

Once she was straight again, she heard his voice from above. "Hey, come here." He reached out like he wanted to take her arm, but he didn't actually make any contact. "Let me show you something."

"Huh?" She dabbed her nostrils with her sleeve and let the broom lean on a wall. "What's wrong?"

His fingers flicked upwards. "Come on, Little Girl. I won't bite."

Pearl put her hair tie on her wrist and ran her fingers through her locks. Her shampoo's flowery aroma helped her feel a bit stronger. "Uhm ... okay?" She watched him turn around. Then she followed him. He led her up the stairs and off to a spare room. He used it as an office. Pearl had been in there before, but she'd only dusted and vacuumed. She'd never touched any of his files, his documents, and certainly not his laptop.

Darren's key-chain tinkled and clanged as he held it up. He used a small key to unlock a drawer at his heavy, wooden desk. The drawer made a hurtful and scraping noise as he pulled it out. He pulled several things out and placed them on the tabletop. A few ultrasound pictures of a baby in its mother's womb, some photographs of a newborn at a hospital, mostly with tubes and stuff, a god damn death certificate, and a tiny silver shoe. It wasn't really a shoe, but it was shaped like one. Pearl didn't know what it was until she read the script engraved on the flat surface that covered where the spot where a foot would dip in.

"Always in Our Heart. Joshua Booker."

A date, year and all, was engraved twice beneath that.

A hand close to her heart, Pearl sadly gazed down at the shoe thing. She figured out that it was actually an urn.

"He didn't last twenty-four hours," Darren said as he pressed his fingertips on one photograph of the boy. He slid it off the desk and looked down at it, or Pearl assumed he looked at it. She was busy noticing how the long fingernails of his right hand poked and lightly scraped against the paper. "It was a while ago, but I still have days where I go nuts and cry. I don't like it. It's scary. But it happens, and there's nothing I can do but wait for the pain to dull down."

Pearl's socked feet quietly moved backwards. Then they rocked back and forth, moving her body up and down. Her fingers weaved together near her chest. "I ... I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He laid the photograph back down and reached for the shoe-shaped urn. It made a weighty sound as he dragged it off and into his hand. His fingers swallowed the urn for some seconds. Then he carefully laid it down in the drawer. "There's nothing you could possibly do to change this."

She was too uncomfortable to look up at his face, but she wanted to. Instead, she started walking towards the door. "I need to finish the sweeping ... and do the mopping."

Darren stayed upstairs for what felt like a long time.

***