Leave the Night On Pt. 03

I'm still angry my mother tried to push this woman into my life without my consent, without considering my child's response to this. And I blame Miss Kang a little. Even as I understand why she's here tonight. I would be the easier choice for her as well.

"Miss Kang-" I stop and correct myself. "Annie, you're beautiful. You seem fun and smart, but-"

"But you're seeing someone," she says, finishing my sentence.

"Yeah."

"Hey, I hope it works for you but...In case it doesn't, and I'm really rooting for you here, keep my number." Her eyes linger on me with what is, unmistakably, attraction. "I wouldn't want to give our parents the satisfaction, but I wouldn't mind it either."

I have a beautiful woman, openly attracted to me, offering me her availability and, yet, I feel nothing. I wait, allowing my eyes to stay on hers, but nothing comes. "Thanks, Annie," I say, hearing the rejection in my own voice.

She doesn't seem to notice it. "It was nice to meet you, Julian," she says.

When she goes back inside, I take the stub she left on the ground and put it in my pocket. I'll throw it away later, somewhere my mother will never see it.

***

BEFORE I MAKE THE LAST TURN ON THE STAIRCASE, I hear Pearl's voice. I climb a few more steps to her floor until I'm eye level with the landing. She's outside her own door. I can see her shoes. High, sexy heels. But there's another contrasting pair. Masculine and expensive dress shoes.

I climb a few more steps and Pearl's face comes into view. Neither she nor the man notice me. The assessment I make of the scene unfolding in front me is quick. Pearl's face is hard, angry. Her posture is defensive. The man is grinning. He takes a predatory step in her direction and she takes one back, away from him.

"Oh. Come on, Pearl. Don't be a little bitch," he says to her.

That's when I move.

With flashing speed, I step in front of Pearl as a shield. "Are you okay?" My words are for her. My eyes, though, stay on him.

My mood is already off balance. This only sours it more. My whole life, I've been excellent at controlling my temper. Now my pulse quickens. A heat spreads through me until my vision is half blurred. I can feel the violence thrumming, pulsing out of me in waves. He sees it too, the erupting danger in my face.

A brief surprise passes over him before he's smiling again. Whoever this guy is, he's so fucking conceited that an immediate antagonism towards him makes me clench my jaw. "It's all good man," he says, stepping back. "We were just talking."

"Just talking?" My voice is laced with irritation. "Are you in the habit of calling women bitches in your conversations?"

"It's all good. We're old friends, Pearl and I." His gaze slides around my back, searches hers as he says it. He smiles again. His mouth is as thin as a lizard's, a mere slice on his face. I feel my upper lip twitching, my body inching towards him. Something about this guy has my guts twisting. The aversion Pearl showed towards him is rubbing off on me.

"Julian." Pearl tugs at my shirt. "Don't. Please."

I whirl around to face her. She looks tired. Her eyes are red rimmed and heavy lidded. Was she crying? I touch her, gently running my hand down her arm until my hand in on hers. "You okay?" I ask. She nods once, perfunctorily.

Before I can turn back to confront the asshole who called her a bitch, she steps forward, out of my shadow. "Leave, Mark," she hisses at the guy.

She knows him. I hear the familiarity in her voice. She knows this guy. This isn't a one-time thing. This has happened before. My tongue taste bitterness inside my mouth. The way the guy looks at her is enough to wipe my brain clean of logic. I've seen men look at women that way before, but I've never seen the same men respecting them.

Again, I'm overwhelmed by an impulse to bash his face in. I'm not violent. I've never even been in a fight in my life. And yet, seeing Pearl this nervous around a man, with her fingers gripping mine to a point she's crushing my knuckles, has me reevaluating my moral code. My night has been a fucking series of events. I've been pissed off for hours. I'm about to explode on somebody and this guy seems like a good aim. "You better listen to her, man," I say to him, threateningly.

His gaze flickers from Pearl to me. That reptile curve to his mouth never leaves him. He shakes his head to himself before reaching for the door. Her door. "A friendly advice," he says, and I realize he's talking to me. "Careful with this one. She's feisty."

In the seconds it takes his words to sink in he's inside her apartment. "The fuck you-" My fist hits the door as it closes behind him. "Fucking asshole!" I yell, rabidly.

In the silence left in his wake, I hear my heart drumming in my ears. My body is shaking. Pearl's grip on my hand is so tight I feel the pulsing of our veins in our palms. Something on the way he talked about her feels too intimate. As though he knew her. As if he knew her as I do and more.

I exhale. Inhale. I don't know what this anger is. When I speak, my voice is more growling than words. "Who's that?"

Silence.

I turn and when I do, I'm struck to find Pearl's eyes wide in panic. She's dropped my hand and backed against the wall. Her hands are shaking, arms crossed over her chest protectively. Seeing her this way only serves to feed my rage. I'm half tempted to go in and make sure that asshole never even looks at her wrong again.

"Pearl," I start for her, but she flinches.

I freeze then, late in my realization. She's not afraid of him anymore. She's afraid of me now.

The blood rushes out of my head, instantly. My anger seeping out, being replaced by something akin to fear. I frown, confused. Angry still, I fight to disguise it. Suddenly, it comes to me as the most unfathomable possibly. Even as I deny it, I wonder to myself if anyone has ever hurt her. If a woman as brave as she is could've been any man's victim.

"Hey," I say, my voice low and soft. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. It's okay. Come here, My Pearl. I lost my temper, but it's okay. I'm sorry."

There's a glaze in her eyes. She's looking at me as though I were a stranger. I see myself through her eyes, dominated by aggression as I must be now. I take careful steps towards her. I pause between each footing to let her know she's safe, that we're both calming down. When I'm finally right in front of her, I offer my hand so she can decide if she wants to be touched or not. "I'm sorry I almost lost my head there, Pearl. I'm sorry."

She blinks, slowly. Then nods. Accepting my offer, she wraps her arms around my ribcage. Her cheek presses just over my pounding heart. "You have nothing to apologize for," she says, in a strained small voice.

"I do. I'm an asshole."

"You are. But you're a sweet one." She chuckles. It's a weak, unconvincing sound that serves to tranquilize me a little.

We stay this way, her arms around me, my hands rubbing soothing patterns on her back. She can probably accompany the rhythm of my heart slowing down to a normal rate.

"He's Mel's fiancé," she murmurs against my chest. "Mark."

I don't like that he's inside her house. I don't like that he has an excuse to be constantly around her, in her environment. I don't like that he can get to her and she seems scared of him.

I want to ask what just happened. I want to ask why she is so little, so scared around him. I want to ask who hurt her.

"Did he do anything to you?" I cup her face in my hands so she looks directly into my eyes and understands my seriousness.

"He's not that stupid."

He better not be.

I kiss the top of her head. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm a little drunk."

"Girls night a little too wild?"

Her lips twitch. I count it as a small victory. "Camille is a terrible influence."

She gently pushes off of me and I step back to allow her some space. She tries a few vacillating steps. "I think I need to sit down for a while."

"You need some water." I make for the door, but stop when she grabs my arm.

"No, please," she blurts, too desperate.

I glance down at my arm, to where her nails are buried into my flesh, then up to her terrified face. I remember I want to kill that guy. "I'm sorry," she says, taking her hand away from me. On the inside of my arm, there's four perfect half-moon prints. "I don't want to go in yet, Julian. I just need some coffee. Take me somewhere."

I shrug off my coat and lay it over her shoulders. "I know a place. Let's go."

***

"JULIAN, IS THIS PLACE...?"

"Joe's," I tell her. "The diner where we were supposed to have had our first date."

Pearl seems better. More herself now. Although I believe she's faking this easiness. Her hands are still unsteady. She's still avoiding prolonged eye contact.

"I've been meaning to bring you here," I confess.

"I like it," she says, caressing the fake red leather of her seat. She returns her eyes to me. "You look really nice tonight. Is it all for me?"

I smirk, happy to fall back into our bantering selves. "Who else?"

"Thanks," she almost whispers.

I'm on edge of asking why she's thanking me when we're interrupted.

"Julian, sweetheart! Haven't seen you around lately."

I lift my head to find the beaming smile of my favorite waitress. "Hi, Suzy. I've been busy, darling," I say with a pointed glance at Pearl.

Suzy's gaze follows mine. Radiantly happy is her constant mode, but as her eyes take in Pearl her smile threatens to crack her face in half. "Ah! Is this her!?"

I nod, grinning widely. Pearl's confused eyes fly to Suzy. "Hi," she says.

"She's so pretty!" Suzy says to me and then, turning to Pearl, "You're so pretty, honey!"

"Thanks, Suzy," Pearl says, clearly starting to enjoy the situation.

I could kiss Suzy for lighting that spark in Pearl's eyes.

"I think I remember this pretty face now," she says, pouting her red lips. "Oh Julian, how could you leave this pretty girl waiting for you all by her lonesome?"

Pearl laughs then puts on a fake frown. "Yeah, Julian. How could you."

Suzy lands a playful tap to my head. "Bad Julian."

Pearl shakes her head at me. "Very bad boy."

Our elated waitress puts her hands to her chest. "Oh, this is like a romantic story from a movie! I want to hear all about it later! But for now, I'll give you kids some privacy. And dessert is one me!"

Pearl gives me an incredulous smile, like she can't believe Suzy is real. "Suzy, that's so kind, but I can accept it."

"Oh honey, please. Let an old woman have her fun. I have been waiting for this for a year! Look here what I've got." She reaches into the pocket sewed on her apron and pulls out a little folded piece of paper. She hands it to Pearl. "I still carry his number around in case you come back looking for him! After that first day I'll tell you darlin', I lost hope you would, but I carried it around with me anyway. It reminds me there's still some romance in this world." Suzy sighs as Pearl stares, unbelieving, at the paper with my number scribbled on it.

"Can I keep this?" Pearl asks Suzy.

Suzy's eyes melt a little. "Of course, honey. It's always been meant for you," she says, then finally takes our orders and leaves with hearts in her eyes.

"I adore her," Pearl states.

"She's a sweet woman. She's married to Joe. I've been coming to this place since high school. I've known her for years."

Pearl closes her hand around the piece of paper and presses it to her chest. "I can't believe you left your number with her."

"She was my last resource. It was either her or a private detective."

She dismisses her half smile with a roll of eyes. "Did you actually think I'd ever come back here after that night?"

"A guy can hope," I say.

"And presume too."

I shrug. "We did meet again. My intuition was right."

Pearl begins playing with the salt. It's a distraction, a strategy so she doesn't have to keep looking at me. "Do you ever wonder how things would've turned out if we'd met here that night?"

"Yes." All the time, lately.

I see the smile that tugs at the corner of her full lips. She presses her mouth into a line to contain it. "I wonder where those two would've ended up."

I do, too.

Only I don't tell her so.

I haven't forgotten what happened earlier. I haven't forgotten how she reacted. That alien fear in her eyes. I have little right to demand anything of her, to probe into her life. Except I'm not just a guy she fucks. I care about her. I like her. I worry about her. I can't pretend all is fine after seeing her backed into a corner by a man who seems to be constantly harassing her.

"What happened tonight, Pearl?"

The spark in her eyes goes off as though a switch was turned off. Her expression changes from unguarded happiness to a stone wall. "It was nothing," she lies, waving a dismissive hand. "It's okay. I'm okay now."

"Nothing about that was okay, Pearl," I press on, insistent. "What was that?"

Her eyes are evasive again. She takes a deep wavering breath. "I said I'm fine, Julian. Let it go. It doesn't concern you, anyway."

I draw back. "Doesn't concern me?"

"It doesn't"

I stare at her, indignantly. "What the fuck concerns me then, uh?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but still won't deign to look at me.

"At least have the decency to face me, Pearl."

She straightens. Nose up. Chest puffed out. She proudly tries to convince us both she's recomposed. She confronts me with eyes full of a resolve she doesn't have right now. "Julian, I don't-"

"Here you go, darlings." Suzy arrives with our order, interrupting and catching on the tension in the air right away.

Pearl turns to the window as I take our food. Suzy glances at Pearl then back at me with a silent question in her eyes. "Thanks, Suzy," I say, dismissively. She gives me a concerned look, clearly picking up on my need to be alone with Pearl. When she leaves, I place Pearl's black coffee and her slice of raspberry pie in front of her. I reach for the sugar and she covers her mug with her hand.

"No, thanks. I don't take sugar."

Her words poke at a wound. She just reminded me that I don't really know her that well. She doesn't take sugar with her coffee. I didn't know that. I'm starting to believe there's ugliness in her past I couldn't have known because a bad history is not congruent with the woman Pearl is. At least, a bad past doesn't fit with my conception of the woman Pearl is. I've made assumptions because most of her remains unknown to me, and I don't know which of us I blame for it.

"Talk to me, Pearl."

She sighs loudly. "Julian, this thing we do doesn't have to come with personal drama included in the package."

She's so fucking stubborn, this woman.

I throw my hands up, exasperated. "What the fuck, Pearl? What does the package include? You come over to my place, I fuck you, you leave, and that's it?" I ease into the pulsing anger that's been simmering in me all night. "I stick my dick inside you once a week and then I don't have to listen to you when you have a problem? I don't need to help you if you ever need me? I roll off of you and forget you're a person? Is this what you think of me?

She squeezes her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No. Of course not."

"Then what?!"

"I don't want to lay my shit on you, Julian! My problems are mine. I have to deal with the consequences of my own mistakes!"

I disregard the curious eyes we're attracting. "So you internalize shit? That's not healthy. I thought I was someone you could talk to. I thought you knew that."

Her voice is so low I almost can't hear her when she says, "I do know that."

"Do you?"

"I do." Her lips tremble when she exhales. "I'm afraid of what you'll think of me after I tell you."

I frown, incredulous. I know it must have taken her courage to admit this, but I never considered my opinion to be so important to her. I find I like to know she cares about what I think of who she is. "You already know what I think of you, Pearl. I met you. You fucked my brains out. You told me your name, but little else. Then a year later, I met you; you're my daughter's teacher. You're crazy yet amazing. You are a fucking crazy woman and I have so much fun around you I feel breathless. You have secret black books and you confront sketchy assholes wearing skimpy dresses. That's what I think of you. I think you're a fucking fantastic mystery because I still know so little about you."

She lifts her chin. There's unshed tears swimming in her eyes. "My dress is not skimpy. It's sexy."

"It's sexy as hell but skimpy fits better in my speech," I say.

She laughs. Humorlessly. Tiredly.

I reach across the table for her hand. She meets me halfway. "I don't want to pressure you. I don't want to invade your privacy. I want to know you. I want to know all the secrets you're willing to share. I'm here if you need me. Anytime."

She softens, and I convince myself she's letting her guard down. "My God, Julian, you're so..." she starts, and stops.

"Handsome? Smart? Spectacular in bed?"

She attempts at a smile. "All that. More than that."

"So, trust me," I plead.

She lets go of my hand to cradle her mug and takes a sip of her coffee. It's probably cold by now as mine is when I try it. I eat my pie, she eats hers. I wait for her to speak. Silent minutes go by and are finally interrupted by the sound of her fork clattering against her empty plate.

"I was in a bad relationship some years ago," she says, as though continuing a conversation that never stopped. "The short version is: he got abusive. Aggressive even. He hit me. It was the one time. He slapped me across the face. Then I..." Pearl loses her words. I watch her as her eyes go blank contrasting with the pain showing everywhere in her face. "I went crazy. I got consumed by this livid indignation. I just wouldn't allow a man to treat me that way. I wouldn't be his victim. So, I punched him. I broke his nose and three of my knuckles." She holds three of her fingers in her left hand, running her fingertips over the knuckles I assume were the broken ones. "Anyway, he had a bloody nose and I had nothing except a bruised ego. He was smarter. He pressed assault charges against me."

I can't help my interruption. "What a fucking prick."

"It was years ago. It's all settled. I was a first offender. All I had to do was behave nicely for a few months and the charges were dismissed. My record is squeaky clean again. Most of my savings are gone on lawyer's fees, but at least I'm free of him."

I understand so much more now. So much of who she is.

I understand her fear of that violence attributed to some man.

I see why she shared so little of herself when we first met.

I see why she stands so tall, taking no bullshit.

It's all a defensive mechanism.

Pearl is, in her core, still afraid of the very thing that I am. A man.

Her story still doesn't explain that asshole outside her door tonight.

I don't ask her, but she reads the question in my eyes.

"After all that, I went through a phase." She chuckles to herself. "Slutty Pearly Phase, Cami calls it. I refused to be afraid, you know. I refused to be intimidated by men. I decided I would take control. Control of my life. My Body. Every weekend, I put on one of my skimpy dresses and I went out. If I saw a man I liked, I wouldn't have any second thoughts about it. I wouldn't fear him. I wouldn't fear what I wanted from him. I had no qualms about all that. I still don't. I have only a few regrets." She lapses into a silence that lasts for a long time. I'm almost speaking when she continues. "I met Mark on one of those nights," she says, and I hear the shame in her voice.

It takes a lot of me to keep my features into a mask of blankness. I think I fail at pretending I'm fine about what I just heard, because Pearl's face drops when she looks at me. I'm not judging her. I'm not thinking less of her. I can see she regrets it. I can see it plagues her.