SHORT STORY: Track 7 – String of Pearls

Track 7 – String of Pearls

Jennifer Paddock felt as if she were on top of the world, and why shouldn’t she? Her family had recently fallen on some hard times, in which Jenny, as her husband called her, utilized some of her specialty skills and found a way to feed her son. Jenny looked down at the score resting in her hand while she passed underneath an illuminated street lamp which shone off the glimmering pearls. Each of the thirty or so black beads of wealth was larger than the next, with the grandest of them all intended to fall right below the clavicle, and the green hue to them was breathtaking.

“Like taking candy from a baby,” Jenny snickered aloud, “or at least jewelry from the wife of an unfaithful millionaire.”

Upon her quick examination she was certain that this set of Tahitian pearls would fetch her enough to feed her family of three for at least half a year living on the lap of luxury; or at least they would consider luxury. This particular piece, of which she also had some lesser ones snug in her purse, had to be a family heirloom and looked over a century old. They certainly do not make them like this anymore, Jenny thought as she spun the necklace on her finger in a display of victory.

Jenny could not help but smile at the ease of the lift, but then the aged fastener on the necklace was indeed as ancient as she had guessed and as such it’s structural integrity had deteriorated over time, thus the necklace snapped and black pearls of all sizes decorated the poorly lit street corner.

“Damn it,” Jenny cursed as she fell to her knees in haste in a futile attempt to grab the falling payday. Unbeknownst to Jenny, at that exact time, Paul Edwards was behind the wheel of his clunker of a car racing down the slick street with mind dedicated to his destination and not anything on the road in which he drove.

Jenny Paddock had managed to pick up seven of the pearls when she just so happened to look up and see the dim headlights of a car with no intentions of stopping on behalf of her occupying the same road. Stunned at first, all she could do was stare, and in that gaze she witnessed the possessed eyes of the man behind the wheel. In a final moment of clarity she dove deeper onto the sidewalk in an attempt o find refuge, but to her dismay she was clipped by the bumper.

“What was that honey?” The calm breathing Wilma Edwards called out from her lounging position in the backseat on her way into labor of what the doctors suspected to be a high risk pregnancy.

“Nothing,” Paul called back, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He needed to get Wilma to the hospital, the doctors said that there could be complications and that he may lose everything he holds dear and he could not allow that.

“I heard a thud,” Wilma attempted to sit up to look out of the window.

“Must have been a raccoon or something,” Paul lied. “Lay back down love.”

Fifteen minutes later, Paul screeched into the driveway of the hospital where he and his wife were met by two nurses and a wheelchair. Wilma was rushed in, and the next twelve hours passed like a haze inside of a blur for Paul Edwards. Never leaving Wilma’s side and holding her hand for the entire duration, Paul assisted his wife through the difficult birth which resulted in a healthy baby boy; albeit that the baby boy had two legs, four arms, and two heads, and some argue that the pluralization of boys would be more apt.

Paul and Wilma Edwards raised their boys, Phillip and Jacob, as best as they could and went on to home school them to avoid their sons undergoing the ridicule of being conjoined twins in the public school system. Then when they were eight years old, Paul Edwards was diagnosed with a terminal brain disorder which resulted in his abrupt death only months later. It was at that point, with their mother under extreme duress and depression, that Phillip and Jacob decided it would be best to relieve their mother of the burden of their education and they would endure the public. That is where the twins truly blossomed; Phillip taking on a strong interest in the student government and climbing the social latter with the most popular kids, and Jacob on the other hands, although dragged along to the parties which Phillip was always invited, preferred to socialize with the intellectuals and ‘nerds’ as Phillips friends would label.

Public schooling was the greatest thing to happen to the boys and they learned to embrace their differences both within each other and with the norm. To the credit of Jacob’s studying, the boys won a full scholarship to Harvard and became prominent in investment banking before turning their sights for bigger and better things. As one thing led to another, the now men grew wiser and more respected, they entered politics and where unstoppable. Pairing the conservative nature of Phillip with the liberal ways of Jacob, the Edward’s twins were able to cover both left and right politics without ever being accused of flip-flopping.

Sitting in the Senate, Phillip and Jacob Edwards were convinced with little hesitation, to enter the Presidential race; which they went on to win with staggering results under the campaign slogan ‘Two Ed’s are Better than One’. Then, just two years into their term, all major news sources were reporting that President Edwards would go down as the greatest President of all times. Little did the media know that one late night while Phillip and Jacob were reviewing policies in their office that Frank Paddock would enter the room and lock the door behind him.

“Frank,” Phillip greeted his long time Secret Service Agent. “What can I do for you?”

“Forty-three years ago,” Frank solemnly said with a sigh of fatigue. “That’s how long ago my search began.”

“We are a little confused,” Jacob adjusted his glasses.

“I was young, but I knew I would one day track him down,” Frank went on. “Her name was Jennifer Paddock and she was my mother.”

“I don’t recall ever meeting your mother,” Phillip stated.

“Is she well?” Jacob asked.

“She is dead,” Frank shouted.

“We are sorry to hear that,” Jacob said as he grew uneasy.

“She was walking in the street when she was struck by a car, that is what I learned,” Frank hissed, his eyes growing fiery and unpredictable. “There were witnesses, but none of them put it all together. Not even the cops put it all together, but I did. Forty-three years ago, on the day you were born, Paul Edwards struck a woman with his car on the way to the hospital.”

“Our father?” Phillip and Jacob exclaimed in unison as they sometimes did.

“Yes,” Frank let a tear drop from bloodshot eyes as he produced a knife. “He killed her so that he could get you to the hospital and never said a word to anybody. He could have driven her and she could have been saved, but by the time the ambulance got her there she was gone. He selfishly left her. He traded her life to make yours a little easier; give you a few more seconds.”

“Why are you here Frank?” Jacob regained his composure and tried to level with the man. “Our father passed away some time ago.”

“I know that,” Frank Paddock cried out. “You think I didn’t know that? It eats away at me to know that I did not have the chance to slide my blade into his heart and watch him die. You are the next best thing. After all it was you that drove your father, so to speak.”

“Frank you have worked for us since the Senate days,” Phillip was in shock. “We did a background check.”

“It never would have shown our connection on the background check,” Frank smiled as if he had just won a debate. “We come from different walks of life and your father was never tied to my mother’s death. There is no connection. I have been planning this since the day I put it all together and found out the mighty Paul Edwards was dead. I have been patiently waiting for the opportune time, and that time found me. Tonight is the night I ease my mind and my pain.”

“What about your wife, Claire, and your daughters, Jenny and Lisa?” Phillip tried to reason. “Imagine what this will do to them.”

“There is no other way,” Frank’s eyes were streaming now. “I wish there was, but I am sorry.”

“We understand,” Jacob nodded as he exchanged a confirming glance with his brother and self. “We are ready to accept responsibilities for the actions of our blood.”

Upon hearing the concede, Frank Paddock felt a wave of anxiety and pressure rise off of him as he slide his father’s knife into the most well respected men in America. Frank breathed heavily as the men slumped over onto the carpeted floor. His original plan was to clean up the mess so that at least the President was found in a respectable position, but after futilely trying to mop of more pints that imaginable, Frank simply ran out of the office covered in blood.

Frank slammed the door behind him and discarded the soaked and saturated mop along with his blade next to his unconscious partner and he started to run. Knowing that he had little time left, Frank followed the escape plan that he had practiced practically every day so that it was now second nature. He was on his way home to say goodbye to his wife, and his two girls, who were luckily home on college break.

Frank screeched into his driveway, but Claire’s car was not there. Did she run to the store, he asked himself, but then he noticed the white corner of a piece of paper protruding from the front door. Frank ran to the paper, knowing that he had little time left before he was caught, and he pulled the paper out of the door and opened it up to reveal that it was a letter.

Frank immediately started to read the words on the note which he recognized as his wife’s handwriting. “Dear Frank, the girls and I have tried to endure, but we simply cannot any longer. We love you and that is why this is so painful. We know that you have some demon inside of you that is taking you away from us, but the fact that you will not let us help you or explain what it is you are going through and you just pushed us aside. We tried and we tried, but you grew distant. We cannot sit by while you ruin yourself. I am afraid you are going to do something dangerous and we cannot be a part of that; we love you too much. If you find our being around such a distraction then perhaps you will be better off without us. The girls and I have left until you are ready to let us be part of your life again. Please don’t make us wait. Please stop whatever it is you are obsessing over. Please, I want my Frank back. Love Claire.”

Frank fell to his knees in tears, defeated. It was all over, he knew he would never see his family again, and it truly was all his fault. At the same time but different locations, Claire looked out the window of the train traveling west deeper into Virginia. For some reason she could not fully understand, she started to cry uncontrollably, and she felt as if it had something to do with Frank. He was acting so strange lately, she thought as she wiped away a stream. She took in a deep breath and thought of her daughters and how she had just put them each on trains headed back to their respective colleges, cutting their breaks short. It was what is best for them she knew. They could not stand to see their father like that, at his worst.

Claire then let her mind drift from Frank to the only other man that was in her life, Manny Perkins, whom was technically no longer in her life. Manny was her longtime boyfriend through high school and college and the man she swore that she would one day marry. Things did not turn out quite as she had planned however as Manny turned to drugs and alcohol which ultimately lead to his demise, a fate she was certain her husband Frank would see sooner rather than later as well. The similarities between Manny and Frank were actually the driving force behind Claire deciding to walk out of her home upon hearing of Manny’s death; poor Frank, he had so many demons.

She reached her stop and Claire looked down at the watch clinging to her shaking wrist; she had no time to get the coffee she desperately needed. Running twenty minutes behind schedule, the train put Claire in the position to sprint towards the cemetery rather than waiting for a cab; luckily she was familiar with the area due to the fact that this was where she was born and raised.

Sweating and winded, Claire bounded through the iron gates and composed herself before nearing the ongoing service in the sacred place. Upon entering Claire locked eyes with Manny’s widow, Jessica Perkins, almost as if she were waiting for her to arrive. “Nice to see that you finally showed up. Had better plans?”

“Can’t we just get through this civilly Jessica?” Claire asked.

“You have no right being here,” Jessica snapped. “You walked out on him when he needed you most.”

“If I had not walked out on him as you so eloquently put it, he never would have married you, so I guess you are welcome,” Claire fell right into the trap Jessica had played.

“You knew he had addictions and he reached out to you,” Jessica screamed and pointed an accusing finger. “He never got the help he needed or the support he wanted, and now all these years later he fell victim to his own vices. I found him with his head in a urinal at the bar. He needed your help.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” Claire gave it right back, many eyes now relocating from the preacher to the two women. “I wanted Manny clean, and he was not bending. Then he found you, who partied just as hard as he did. So no, it was your responsibility to control him and all you wanted was a good time. So no, this is on you. This is on Manny. I am just here to pay my respect to a man I once loved.”

“You mean a man you once screwed,” Jessica unleashed and with no warning slapped Claire across the face.

After the unexpected assault, Claire went on the offensive and thrust her shoulder into the midsection of Jessica, knocking the two of them backwards into the crowd. Claire got to her feet quickly and gripped Jessica’s hair and with a tug swung her with all her might. The momentum, coupled with the pain, caused Jessica to stumble forward into Claire, who consequently lost her footing and toppled along with Jessica into the open grave where Manny’s casket resided.

“Father Malloy,” Manny’s Aunt Ruth ran up to where the short bald man nervously watched the chaos unfold. “Do something.”

Father Malloy did just that; something. Perhaps it was not the something that dear Aunt Ruth had in mind, but it was nonetheless something; leave. As Father Malloy watched the two, when they were still above ground, he tried to fight out the thoughts which were surfacing, but two women fighting were one of his weaknesses. “Calm yourself William,” Father Malloy whispered under his breath. “Lead us not into temptation.”

Father Malloy turned his back on those attending the funeral of a junkie and he silently got in his car and sped away. “You did the right thing,” he kept repeating to himself over and over as the funeral grew distant, but deep down inside he knew this was not the truth; he should have been able to control his compulsions better than that.

Starting to change his tone from reassurance to reprimanding in his inner monologue, Father Malloy caught the glint of something in the street on his way back to the rectory. Peculiar, he thought as he pulled over to the side of the road to investigate. Why he stopped he will never know for certain as it was out of character, but in times afterwards he credited it to a sign from God to stop punishing himself for the being simply a mere mortal.

Leaving his car running, Father Malloy scurried over to the pile of refuse along the gutter and plunged his hand in to retrieve what could have easily been the tab to a soda can, or something equally as shiny. But this was no soda tab, Father Malloy stood with object in hand astonished.

“A black pearl?” The man of God questioned aloud, blinking feverishly as if trying to test whether or not he was stuck in a dream. Father Malloy was uncertain as to why a pearl of this size and quality would just be discarded; it was as beautiful as the heavens and larger than the tip of his thumb.

Father Malloy drove back to his home with the pearl clutched tightly in his hand the whole way, and upon entering his domicile he immediately ran to his bathroom to wash away the filth of the street that it was unjustly subjected to. This was no way to treat such a precious pearl, Father Malloy thought to himself as he obsessively scrubbed it spotless.

Over the next few days the pearl was all Father Malloy could think of, and then when the days of obsession transformed into weeks, and those weeks into months the Father knew he had a problem. “And lead us not into temptation,” he said to himself with tears of shame in his eyes as he wrapped the pearl in a handkerchief and ran out of his home.

Father Malloy hastily made his way through the halls of the convent, with the one person whom he could trust to free him. He gently knocked on the door of the older nun he had known for nearly three decades.

“Just a moment,” sounded a sweet voice from the opposite side of the door where the man with a valuable package stood. “Father Malloy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The nun greeted as she welcomed in her friend.

“Sister Mary Theresa I have been tempted and I am in need of your guidance,” Father Malloy ashamedly admitted.

“God forgives all,” Mary Theresa reassured while placing a hand on Father Malloy’s shoulder and guiding him to a seat. “How may I help?”

“This pearl,” Father Malloy revealed as he opened his handkerchief. “I found it in the street and I know it is worth a great deal, but it is all I can think about. I have been late to mass on more than one occasion on its behalf. Please take it from me; relieve me of the burden.”

“William, you know I cannot accept this,” Mary Theresa smiled. “I have taken a vow of poverty and although beautiful and truly one of God’s great gifts of nature I simply cannot.”

“Please,” Father Malloy begged. “Help me find someone. A charity or someone in need; I fear what it will turn me into.”

“You are a good man, and have an unbreakable faith,” Sister Mary Theresa stood and took the pearl in her hand. “Anyone weaker would not have been able to do what you have done. Asking for help and giving up an object of such value. I know of someone in need. I found her in sleeping on one of the pews this morning and I took her in. Hard times have found her and her faith is being tested.”

“Thank you,” Father Malloy stood and smiled his utmost appreciation and gratitude.

“You would have done the same for me, or any other of God’s children,” Mary Theresa nodded as she headed for the door to lift her young new friend’s spirits with the gift. “I thank you for giving me the opportunity to help those in need. It is wonderful how God’s plans unfold in the most mysterious ways.”

Sister Mary Theresa smiled to herself as she headed towards the guest room she had made up for the young girl. She could barely be older than twenty-one, the nun thought to herself as she took her aged strides. Too young for the hardships she had found, and far too young to turn to such acts of vulgar desperation in exchange for money.

“Lisa?” Mary Theresa called out as she knocked on the door which was already opened.

“Hello,” Lisa turned and smiled kindly from the desk where she was sitting at examining the broken chain in her hands.

“That necklace meant a great deal to you didn’t it?” Mary Theresa said as she slowly sat herself on the edge of the bed.

“My father gave it to me,” Lisa sighed with obvious signs of emotional pain running throughout. “It used to have a pendant, but that broke last night when it happened. It was so surreal. He struck me and tore it off of me for no other reason than he just could. He refused to pay me and called me,” Lisa paused for a moment as if to gauge whether or not her words were appropriate to speak to a nun, “a whore.”

“You are no such thing,” Sister Mary Theresa frowned, hoping that the young lady’s self image was not completely shattered. “There are great evils in this world and it is up to those of faith to work through them. It is the challenges that teach us and bring us closer to God.”

“I just wish my life didn’t get so messed up,” Lisa started to shed tears. “Three months ago I was a normal college student studying to be an electrical engineer, I was just home for Spring break and then the next thing I know, my mom rushes me back to school. I do not question her, but then the very same day I saw on the news that my father was killed after being blamed for the whole assassination thing. I know he had his problems, but I know he could not of done it, why would he?”

Sister Mary Theresa knew that this was a rhetorical question and that Lisa was in need of someone to listen to her, so she remained silent.

“Then I found out my mom was arrested for attacking someone at a funeral,” Lisa wept more heavily now. “Did I even know my parents? Then the house that my sister and I were raised in was seized and my school kicked me out claiming that I had not paid tuition, but I think it was because of my name and parents. I had nothing, so I ran. All this in three months. I wish I could go back in time.”

“God smiles on all of his children,” Mary Theresa interjected.

“I know,” Lisa Paddock sniffled. “It is just feels like sometimes some of us are neglected more than others.”

Sister Mary Theresa reached out and placed the pearl on the desk in front of Lisa. “This single item was made pure and simple by one of God’s creatures. Man recognizes the craftsmanship and values it highly, as they should. I have never seen one quite this size in all my years and I would like you to have it.”

“Me?” Lisa questioned in shock. “Why?”

“Because you are a good person and you are in need,” Sister Mary Theresa beamed with hope for what Lisa could achieve. “Although this pearl would serve as a pretty replacement for your lovely necklace, why don’t you sell it instead and use the money to pay your tuition and become that engineer. Lisa Paddock, go make the world a better place.”