Confessions on the 7:45(83)

The phone stopped ringing. She didn’t reach for it. Nothing good; she was sure of that. It was 3:00 a.m. She hadn’t been back to Pop’s since the night she left. She figured it was him calling. Something was wrong.

She lay in the dark, her heart thumping, the tendrils of the dream pulling her back toward sleep. She nestled in closer to Jason. His body was a furnace.

Pearl had all but disappeared into her life as Elizabeth. She’d moved in with Jason, sharing his simple one-bedroom apartment near campus. They went to class together. She worked at the pizza place; he worked as a mechanic at a local shop, fixing vintage cars as an apprentice. They went to the movies, whatever he wanted to see—art films, and obscure documentaries. They hung out with his friends at house parties and barbecues. They ate out, inexpensive dinners at casual restaurants. They made love finally. It was easy. So easy. A normie life, as Pop would call it. It washed over her, like a cleansing rain. Every day, Pearl got a little fainter, and Elizabeth got a little stronger.

She remembered her life with Stella—all the drama of her many boyfriends, constant stress over the store, Stella’s moods, her distance. Little Pearl lived in her chaotic mess of a life, burying herself in stories, in books. She escaped into other worlds, other lives. In the pages of her books, she became. Jane Eyre always running from one bad situation to the next. The new Mrs. DeWinter withering under the hateful gaze of Mrs. Danvers. Laura Fairlie in the evil clutches of Sir Percival Glyde. This wasn’t so very different. She’d disappeared into the story of Elizabeth and Jason.

Jason wanted to know about her life before, her parents, how she grew up. Pearl-Elizabeth wove a story of half truths. Her mother died; she never knew her father. Her uncle had taken her in. She traveled around with him for a while, but they’d had a falling out. Jason said he had a big family back in Minnesota; they planned to visit over the summer. He loved her; she could see that. She could pretend to love him and enjoy doing that. Maybe he sensed it, her distance.

Sometimes, I wonder where you are, he said one night. It’s like you’re always just drifting away from me.

I’m right here, she said. She went down on him, making him go helpless with pleasure. And that seemed to settle the matter.

Sometimes in the night, she looked at the objects around the room cast in shadows. Her clothes over the chair, her books and laptop, flowers in a vase, the television they bought and rarely watched. What would I take with me if I had to run? she thought.

Maybe some of her books. A few items of clothing. The bag in the closet that contained money, passport, Social Security card. She’d never been out of the country, then. But if she had to run, she thought, she’d go to London. She didn’t know why. There was something about the gauzy idea of it, the gray skies, the persistent chilly drizzle she imagined, that appealed. It was a place where you could disappear into the fog.

The phone rang again, and this time Pearl reached for it. A number she didn’t recognize. She should just send it to voice mail. But she answered. There was weeping on the other line, a voice she recognized. A girl.

“Pearl?”

“What is it?” She could barely contain her annoyance.

“Please come.”

She felt a jolt, a shock of fear through her system. She extracted herself from Jason, who rolled over oblivious, still deeply asleep.

“What’s happened?”

“Please,” she said. “Please come. I—don’t know what to do.”

She ended the call and lay quiet for a moment, then she got up and packed her few things. She took her duffel from the closet, stuffed in her clothes, her books, her laptop.

She didn’t know why. Something about the dream, the call, the sound of the girl’s voice. Some strange energy on the air. She suspected that once she walked out the door, the way back to Jason, to Elizabeth, would be closed to her. A closed book, a story ended.

When she had everything, she lingered a moment, her bag heavy on her shoulder, and stared at Jason sleeping. She searched herself for feeling—sadness, regret, longing. And, as usual, she felt nearly nothing. Maybe a twinge of something, a faint wish that things were another way.

She gave herself a moment with the story—he proposed, they got married, maybe they moved back to Minnesota to be closer to his family. They bought a pretty house, nothing fancy, lived a quiet life—maybe had children, raised them in safety and comfort. Elizabeth took over. The story became the truth; Pearl faded to nothing, just a ghost from the past, a girl who barely ever was. She could almost see it. She could almost go there.

Jason never stirred as she left without a sound.

  She drove nearly an hour back to the house, leaving the little college town behind, taking the winding roads into the country. She hadn’t been there since the day she left, though Pop kept calling, inviting her to dinner. He left messages that were more like letters with updates, little snippets of news, mentions about the house, things that needed fixing. He had stories about his new little pet who he referred to annoyingly as her sister. Your sister—don’t get me wrong, she’s nothing like you—is a quick study. I think she’ll adjust to the life just fine. She kept sending him to voice mail.

Just come home, little girl, he said in his final message. Nothing’s changed. We’re family. Family is never perfect. There are always problems, but we’re always here.

Family.