[4]shelley debussy

Morning crept through her window much sooner than Pearl wished it would. The predawn glow of the horizon barely lit the room when Thomas wrestled his sheets away and stood. Pearl watched him stumble across the room to the wardrobe, fumbling with the lamp sitting beside it.

Pearl stretched her body, feeling her toes tingle as she placed them on the cold wooden floor. She absently thought of purchasing a rug to avoid shocking her feet each morning, then reached for her robe to wrap herself before walking to the kitchen to retrieve some coffee.

Thomas was already dressed before she emerged with a coffee cup in each hand. He sat with a newspaper in the sitting room of their bedroom suite, thumbing through the market pages.

“You shouldn’t be up yet.” He rose to take one of the cups, stopping to nuzzle her hair. He folded the newspaper in half, slipping it into his briefcase before organizing his paperwork.

Pearl sat in one of the leather chairs and watched him gather his things in silence, not sure what to say to him. In her mind, they had shared something significant the night before. Something pure. A giddy agreement between partners had flourished into something more solid for her. Pearl felt oddly foolish as she pictured what this morning would be like with a child sleeping peacefully in the nearest room, nestled in a bundle of pinks or blues.

“You think too much.” Thomas commented, observing his wife’s creased brow. “What does go on in that fascinating mind of yours?”

Pearl felt her face grow hot before she answered. “I was thinking. Of a lot of things.”

“Are you worried?” The question caught her off guard.

“No.” She answered too quickly. In truth, she was not worried at all. The very idea of having a family made her feel at ease in the world she was living in. Perhaps she should have been a bit frightened about the change, Pearl immediately pondered.

Thomas laughed at her solemn expression. “I did not mean to cause you greater distress, love. I merely felt obligated to ask.” He grabbed his briefcase and shrugged away the regret he felt building knowing he had to leave her with his mother.

“I won’t forgive you for leaving me to fend for myself in that horrible circle of friends your mother has.” Pearl crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to pout.

“I had assumed I was to be punished for such a malicious thing.” Thomas tilted his head to the side slightly, his expression amused. He looked as a model would in an ad for a business suit.

Pearl stood and crossed the room, straightening Thomas’s tie gently. “You will be late for work is you stand her chattering with your boring wife any longer.”

Thomas smiled and bent to kiss her goodbye. The kiss was longer and deeper than most of the moments they shared together. This kiss was meant just for them in private, when no one could see.

When he had left the bedroom, Pearl walked to the window and gazed down towards his car. The draft ruffled her robe, and she wrapped it tighter around herself as she watched him climb into his car. As he drove towards the rising sun, Pearl felt he had left too soon. An unfamiliar feeling, a tug in her chest to follow him, nearly slipped out before it fully formed.

The sunrise was accompanied by a letter, and Pearl felt no surprise to see it signed and sent from her mother’s address. The post date on it had been cleverly timed to arrive the day before, even the morning of the lady’s brunch. Pearl didn’t have to open it to know its contents, but humored the powers that be and sliced the envelope open.

The letter had indeed been handwritten by her mother. She gave the same cordial greeting she always did, followed immediately by an apology placed ahead of her excuse for not attending the lady’s brunch. Pearl crumpled the letter in annoyance, knowing now that she was resolutely stuck with Lorraine for the entire afternoon. Despite hanging on to pointless hope, she still felt utterly disappointed to have her mother evade the event.

Pearl threw the letter in the trash and began preparing for the day ahead.

Like clockwork, Lorraine’s car pulled up to the front of the house at ten. The sky had remained cloudy, and threw tiny pellets of water on the vibrant red car. Pearl watched from second story window of the study as Lorraine was helped by a young driver to the doorway.

Pearl took her time walking down the stairs and into the foyer. Lorraine trying to fuss with her frizzy bun inconspicuously, failing miserably.

Pearl cleared her throat softly. Lorraine jumped.

“Good morning, Mrs. Gregory. Shall we leave for the brunch?” Pearl inclined her head with a small smile, waiting for Lorraine’s reaction.

“Yes. Frederick.” She called in a high pitch. A little, positively scrawny young man scurried into the doorway. He was more of a wire hanger then a growing boy. Pearl noticed his elbows jetted out of his uniform, and his pant legs seemed to short for him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bring the car around. Pearl and I will be leaving momentarily.” Lorraine did not look at the young man to address, but rather spat out orders as she dug for cigarettes in her purse.

Dig wasn’t quite the appropriate word, Pearl decided. To watch the old woman tussle and peer into the bag was more similar to a bee pollinating a flower. Pearl was so intrigued by the display that she stood wide eyed with interest until Frederick bounded back into the room.

She turned her eyes away quickly once she heard him approach in the hall, knowing all too well the nasty reaction Lorraine would have if she were caught staring. A lady never stares.

“Ah, good. Shall we?” Lorraine motioned for Pearl to leave first. Pearl was relieved when she saw Thomas’s town car idling behind Lorraine’s.

“I hope you don’t mind, I had them bring around Thomas’s car for you. I have a number of errands to run after the brunch, so I wouldn’t be able to bring you home.”

Pearl fought a smile and nodded her head. “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Gregory. I shall see you at brunch.”

The cars pulled out in near unison with Lorraine’s car leading. Pearl leaned back into the leather seat and sighed. The cab bumped and bounced along the road as she closed her eyes. She was sure it had been by the grace of God that she wouldn’t be spending the every moment with Lorraine. The thought made her shudder.

“Are you cold, Mrs. Gregory?” Her driver looked at her in the rearview mirror.

“I’m all right. Thank you, Phillip.” She turned her attention to the scenery flying by the window. The trees blurred into a stream of green, occasionally bursting with color from a flowering bush or two. The countryside near her new home was beautiful, she couldn’t deny that, but it made her long for her mother’s home. She missed the quaint sized townhouse with its small windows and city sounds. She missed the constant movement of the streets below, always filled with people going from one place to another.

As the car pulled to a stop in front of the benefit hall, Pearl came out of her mental ramblings and prepared herself as her driver to walk around and open her door. She lightly grasped the offered hand and emerged from the car into the lightly drizzling air.

She didn’t mind the rain so much as she minded its affect on her appearance. She could not present herself as someone of influence with flat, weathered hair. Even with their chauffeurs holding umbrellas, any woman arriving in the mess would be somewhat disheveled.

Once inside the hall, she left her coat with Phillip and followed Lorraine to begin the endless dance that was socially demanded. They paused to greet Shelley Debussy first, along with her daughter Amelia. Pearl couldn’t help but sympathize with the young girl, who tried to squirm without notice in her corset. The things we do for beauty, Pearl thought to herself, drifting on to another circle.

She smiled graciously as she was offered congratulations on the marriage, and nodded at the appropriate time when conversations were directed to her. In her mind Pearl was thrilled with herself. She had produced a nearly flawless performance, and even Lorraine offered no rude comment as they were seated for brunch.

Pearl concentrated with effort on the conversation as it shifted to gossip. Here was where she faltered most frequently, making a fool of herself with her new ideas.

“Pearl, darling. How are you enjoying married life?” Shelley interjected, changing the conversation to point directly at Pearl instead of bounce around her.

“I enjoy it very much, Shelley. Thank you for your concern.” Pearl smiled lightly, pushing her nerves back down her throat.

“You were married in May, is that correct?” She continued. A few ladies had stopped speaking, pretending to eat while they listened.

“Yes, Mrs. Debussy. May 12th to be exact. How long have you and Mr. Debussy been married now?” The tone was polite but the air around them buzzed with some underlying agenda.

Shelley chuckled. “Oh, Theodore and I have been together for many, many years now. I was wondering when we would hear news of a new addition to the Gregory household?”

She should have expected it. She should have seen this coming, but Pearl hadn’t thought Lorraine would use a social event to embarrass her. Pearl blushed deeply.

“I feel that such things are between a wife and her husband, Mrs. Debussy.” She fought to keep her voice level as she felt her trembling fingers twist the napkin on her lap.

“Certainly, Ms. Pearl. I apologize for offending you.” Shelley sipped her tea.

“You have not offended me, Mrs. Debussy. I simply do not feel such a topic is polite to be discussed in such a rude way.” Pearl heard the words before she realized what she had said.

Conversation abruptly stopped around the table and all eyes shifted to Pearl Gregory and Shelley Debussy. In the scheme of the world, Pearl had made an infinite mistake that she would undoubtedly pay for until her final breath. The Debussy name was one of the oldest and well respected names in Connecticut. Insulting a Debussy was close to insulting the president of the United States to those who ran in her circles.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be rude.” Shelley smiled, but her eyes held no apology. She flicked a glance at Lorraine, who was sitting smugly next to Pearl.

“Pearl did not mean to be so forward, Mrs. Debussy.” Lorraine held a neutral tone.

“I am quite sure not, but I would hope that such an outburst would be taken care of.” The empty smile on her lips pressed a cold chill to the bottom of Pearl’s spine.

“I assure you it can be helped.” Lorraine continued, then refocused her attention on Shelley’s daughter. One by one the women at the table turned themselves away and began their own conversations again.

Pearl stared at her plate, attempting to find some way of redemption for herself or her actions. She had not only spoken out of turn, but she had insulted someone far above herself. Lorraine had let her dig her hole, and now chose to leave her in it.

The adrenaline began to blur her thoughts. She felt dizzy and sluggish, unable to form the mush in her mouth into coherent words. Lorraine turned and said something to her, but all Pearl could make out was the loud whooshing sound in her ears.

Lorraine’s face blurred as it unfocused, and Pearl fought to stand. She knocked her chair over, watching it fall in slow motion. More voices meshed together, forming a dull wave of sound that reverberated through her body.

The room tilted slightly and began spinning violently as she collapse on the floor, sliding into a dark, warm abyss.