Adventures of Pebble Beach

by Berger, Barbara

  More ugly thoughts flashed across the big screen. Slim! He’ll always blame me, even if I do win The Mother of the Century Award – nothing’s going to help there. Let’s face it, if the slightest mishap ever befalls Adam and Jon, if they so much as trip and skin their knees – however slightly – it’s going to be my fault. So why try? I mean who are you kidding, sister? To Slim you’ll always be to blame. Nothing – not even eternal sacrifice – is going to tip the scales in your favor…So you might as well forget it…

  Molly was standing there, too, with her newly lifted face, saying, “Pebble, this is your life! Your life.” She saw her father Morris, but he didn’t say anything, he was too old to get involved. God…Time is running out. Why am I spending the best years of my life being a single parent, dreaming of the perfect romance, the one I’ve never had?

  She heard the sounds of the Anti-Single Parents League marching loudly across her inner screen. The Anti-Single Parents League was the hoards of people who vehemently objected to single-parenting. They were mortified to discover the prestigious Mother of the Century Award was being given to a single parent. So they were picketing Pebble’s event, bearing signs reading –“Is this an immaculate conception?” Pebble was dismayed. This is my day – my special day and they’re going to spoil everything. They’ll cast a blemish on my accomplishment. How come these jerks are incapable of imagining the enormous effort that goes into single parenting? Is it because everybody in the Anti-Single Parents League lives uptown, is married, has a live-in maid and owns two cars? They should only know the cross single parents have to bear. Pebble was enraged at the injustice. We’re not just talking about my award, even if the Queen of Denmark is here. What about all the people who are divorced nowadays? I mean divorced is almost normal…Who ever met a kid in downtown Copenhagen who actually lives with his real honest-to-God biological father and mother anyway? The poor kid would almost certainly be regarded as some kind of a freak of nature! At least in this part of the world…

  Pebble watched this poor kid – the kid who shared space with both his biological parents – march across the big screen right before her eyes. His friends teased him on the way to school saying mean things to him like: “You who, you who – you‘ve got two parents, too. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” The authorities would be forced to send the poor kid to the school psychologist whose first question would be, “Why aren’t your parents divorced?” Having married parents would be a serious emotional handicap. Much sensitive counseling would be necessary to help this child be accepted in the world of divorced kids. The school shrink would have to wait until he was sure he had the kid’s confidence before popping the awful question, “Okay, Joey, now tell me the truth – are your parents really living together because of you?” Just think of the guilt. The poor kid would be a potential suicide case. A walking time bomb. He wouldn’t want to live. Pebble saw this poor desolate creature wandering aimlessly down the cold, snow-covered streets of Copenhagen, hoping his parents would be divorced by the time he got home. She saw him moaning and groaning and saying to himself, “My parents are living together because of me…Please God, forgive me…” Well at least I don’t have to worry about Jon and Adam slitting their throats because I’m still married to Slim. Oh Slim. She saw him watching her receive The Mother of the Century Citation for Bravery Beyond the Call of Duty on TV. It’ll burn him up. But I guess things can’t get much worse than they already are between us. She saw him raise his fist and fume at her on TV, pontificating about how this traitorous woman was bringing up his kids. In his white rage, he said encouraging things to himself like, “Look at the wild life they’re living, running the streets at all hours of the night.” But this is modern times…modern times… But Pebble’s defense was too weak, as usual, too lame. Everybody knows that. Modern times. When 12-year-olds drink vodka at home with their friends at four o’clock in the afternoon before going out to smoke hashish in their tattered jeans. At least Jon and Adam aren’t that bad…or maybe they are and I just don’t know. Besides, is that bad? Besides this is modern times…besides.

  By now Pebble had drifted away on a cloud of safety while Irene continued probing gently, looking for tension and carefully massaging it away. Every bit of tightness carried a vivid, living picture with it.

  Even if it hurt, I’m so glad I’m not living with Slim anymore. Pebble let herself remember the pleasant surprise she felt when he finally moved out. It was such a relief… And the relief turned into the comfort of Irene’s hands, working carefully on her neck and shoulders. The house didn’t cave in or anything when he moved out. Nothing really happened except things got awfully, awfully quiet. She saw herself up on the big screen packing up her geisha gear. All the sexy underwear went straight into the garbage. I wasn’t Japanese anyway, so the role never suited me…I’m a true-blue child of the 20th century…with no credentials or authentic training in man maintenance anyway. I’ve got too many dreams stuffed in my head…and now they changed all the rules…Only SuperWoman can be the absolute geisha while holding down a full-time job and raising kids with her left hand.

  And suddenly, it was there, clear as day: I don’t want it!

  It was such a relief to find out. I just don’t want it. I’m not SuperWoman, never was, and Lord have mercy, never will be. And the best part is I don’t even want to try anymore. So much for Mother of the Century!

  “I never thought I deserved things from other people,” Pebble said suddenly to Irene who was still there. “And now you’re giving me this wonderful gift of caring about me.” Irene stopped massaging Pebble and walked around and looked down into her face as she lay there on the green leather massage table.

  “Well, you deserve it,” Irene said simply.

  And after a long pause, Pebble smiled and said, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  Chapter 18

  Irene’s touch opened a well of vulnerability inside Pebble that she hadn’t perceived before. A rawness.

  When Jon came home from school at four that afternoon, he found his mother sitting, all alone, on their faded sofa, crying.

  “Why aren’t you at work, Mom?” The lanky 16-year-old plopped down on the sofa besides Pebble, his face still flushed from running up the stairs.

  Pebble looked at her number-one son and smiled. “I decided to take the afternoon off – that’s all.” But she couldn’t fool him, even if she liked to think she still could. Those times were gone and Jon was almost a man.

  “Is anything wrong, Mom?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, why are you sitting home crying like this? I thought you liked your new job so much.” Sometimes he was wise beyond his years.

  “I do.”

  “So what’s the matter then?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…I’m just such a nerd…I guess,” she laughed between her tears. “My life’s such a mess.”

  “A mess? Oh come on.” He took her hand. “I’ve been reading more Emmanuel stuff, Mom.” He pulled the book out from under the stack of school books he tossed on the coffee table when he sat down. He flashed the title in her face: Emmanuel’s Book, A manual for living comfortably in the cosmos. Pebble just loved the title of that book. It never ceased to amaze her – the concept of “living comfortably in the cosmos”. She wondered if it was possible. She stopped crying and wiped her face with the sleeve of her bathrobe. “Living comfortably in the cosmos – that’s what everybody’s trying to do I guess,” she said and sighed.

  “Where did you get this book anyway?” she asked. Jon had talked about it before, but Pebble never really paid much attention before now.

  “Oh, David gave it to me. It’s really something, Mom, you should read it.”

  “What do you think Emmanuel means by…living comfortably in the cosmos?”

  “I guess he means just that.” Jon was flipping through the pages, trying to find something – but he stopped and looked up at Pebble. “You see, Emmanuel is this wise spirit who speaks to us through someone her
e on earth and gives us guidance.”

  Pebble smiled at her gentle son and the perspective he had on life. He sure didn’t get these ideas from his father! She was proud to have a son who thought about things like this.

  “Emmanuel says that this earth is a schoolroom and we’ve all come here to learn the lessons we need to learn. If you look at the things that happen to you like that, it kind of looks different…you know what I mean?” His face was slender and his green eyes glowed with inner conviction. If his brother Adam had been there, he would have said, “Oh come on, Jon, stop acting so holy…”

  “You know,” Pebble said, “whether or not it’s true, it sure is a comfort…”

  “Well…why were you crying…really? You’ve been so much happier since you and Dad split up.”

  “It’s not that.” Pebble was always in doubt when it came to talking to Jon about her problems. He’s only a kid.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “A lot of things,” she almost started crying again, but didn’t.

  “Like what.”

  “Like Albert…”

  “Albert?”

  “Yeah, he called me the other day and asked me to go on vacation with him to an island off the coast of Croatia for a week…and I said yes.”

  “Gee, that’s just great, Mom! An island in the Mediterranean…it’ll be wonderful…”

  “I don’t know how wonderful it’s going to be. In fact I don’t even want to go.”

  “You don’t?” He didn’t understand. “Why not?”

  “Albert’s an alcoholic.”

  Jon was silent for a while, processing this new information. Then he said, “An alcoholic? That’s weird. All the times I’ve ever seen him, he was never drunk. I mean, he visited us a few times before he started working up in Holsteinsborg.”

  “Yeah, I know. I mean, I didn’t realize it until I visited him either. He drank the whole time I was up there. Constantly. He just couldn’t stop.”

  “I’ve never known anyone who was an alcoholic,” Jon said thoughtfully.

  “Me neither. That’s the odd part about it. I just didn’t realize he had a drinking problem before. I mean, I really like the guy, but it looks hopeless to me.”

  “Can’t you talk to him about it?”

  “I‘ve tried, but he won’t listen.”

  “So why are you going with him to Croatia?”

  “That’s what I just said…I don’t know why I’m going. It’s like I’m torn. I know it’s best to break off our relationship, but I just can’t seem to do it.”

  Jon got up and paced around the small living room like a young tiger. The view of the King’s Garden across the street was beautiful at this time of the year. The morning’s gentle rain had made the old chestnut trees look even greener than usual as the sun tried to poke its way through the afternoon’s clouds. Pebble’s potted plants were growing happily in the windows; in fact they needed a good trimming.

  Suddenly Jon stopped and started flipping rapidly through Emmanuel’s Book, searching for something. “Emmanuel says all our relationships are a learning process. Listen to this: …‘when a relationship no longer serves, if you have scraped the bottom of the barrel to find the meaning, to find the lessons, to find the essence of why you have come together, and this has not brought forth what you are seeking, what more can you possibly do? Can you not let this go with your love and your blessings so the next time you meet this soul again there will be more compatibility, more compassion, more understanding? For you will meet again. Since all will ultimately come to Oneness, there is not one person you encounter in your life you will not see again. Think about that.”

  “The words sound so beautiful – but I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand that or be wise enough to live like that.”

  “Oh come on, Mom, I think you’re doing pretty good. Look how well you managed when Dad was here. I know that was real hard for you.” His insight surprised Pebble. Sometimes this kid just knocks me out.

  “Emmanuel also says in answer to the question why so many marriages are ending in divorce…‘It’s because people have accelerated their growth processes. Souls come together, not to remain together in physical contact, but to grow. When this has taken place – the gifts have been given and the lessons have been learned. So why don’t you agree that it’s time to move on?’ It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He fidgeted shyly with the pages, wanting to comfort his mother, but not really knowing how. Then he got a bright idea and his whole face lit up. “Come on, Mom, let me make you some tea – okay? Besides, I’m starved.” Pebble laughed, suddenly thinking how thin Jon was. It looks like he never touches food. People should only know how much he eats!

  “Come on out in the kitchen with me.” He couldn’t handle any more sadness from his mother.

  She understood and said, “Okay,” glad to accept his invitation. She gathered herself and all her 40+ years together and followed Jon. He was almost a head taller than she was. At times, children can be such a blessing. Funny, it’s always when you least expect it.

  The sun finally came out from behind the grey clouds and was streaming through the kitchen windows. She drank tea with Jon who stuffed himself with four Danish open sandwiches, a banana and a generous piece of pound cake. When Cynthia called his eyes shone brightly. “She’s a grade ahead of me at school…you’ve just got to meet her.” He ran down the hall to the bathroom to take a look at himself. When he turned up in the kitchen again, he was wearing a clean white shirt. She really must be something, Pebble thought.

  “Don’t expect me for dinner, Mom. I’ll probably be late.”

  He was gone before she could thank him for keeping her company.

  Chapter 19

  “Albert.”

  “Pebble, ma chérie.”

  Through their open window, the shimmering blue Adriatic sparkled in the background. But they didn’t care. Albert’s hands were already inside Pebble’s pale yellow blouse – their suitcases thrown hastily inside their airy suite at Le Chateau du Mer. They didn’t notice the open windows or the spectacular view of the crystal clear Mediterranean below. They were in too much of a hurry.

  Albert sought Pebble without words.

  And Pebble was there – with all her defenses down.

  This is a time outside time.

  She’d lost her memory and had no past or future. Only Albert’s strong hands holding her breasts, awakening a maddening passion in her.

  He was a bird winging down from the frozen North to thaw in her warm sun.

  She quivered at his touch.

  Only the slightest hint of a breeze moved the white chintz curtains in the late afternoon heat that day. Outside, under the clear blue sky, everything was quiet. People had already left the beaches, scurrying to their hotel rooms, smelling of sun and sea, to rest and shower before going down to the village for dinner and music under the star-studded sky.

  Albert sat on the bed, pulling off his jeans, hot from the long trip behind them. He’d been moving for almost two days now (Pebble thought travel only made him more handsome). He picked her up at the Copenhagen airport on his way down from Greenland. From there, they flew directly to the airport on the outskirts of Split, an old Croatian coastal town, took a taxi down the mountainside to the old fortress harbor, and finally the hydrofoil to the village of Hvar on the island of Hvar.

  So far, only their lips, hands and eyes had touched. The journey generated much body heat and many penetrating glances – but they didn’t talk much. This was not the first time in Pebble’s life that she was allowed the privilege of savoring the agonizing tension of wanting Albert so badly. The memory of her trip to Greenland was still vivid in her mind. Both the flight up, filled with wonderful expectations of loving him, and the flight back, when she was elated to escape the ice prison. The memory was so vivid, that several times during the flight to Croatia, Pebble wondered if she was losing her mind. Why am I doing this again? She knew it was the pull of his body. The power of t
hose cells again. There was no other way to explain it – in all honesty – even to herself. Some things are beyond mind. Beyond understanding. I don’t even want to be with him…but still I do…my body does…Unless it’s like Emmanuel says – we keep repeating our lessons until we learn them. But I thought I knew…what I wanted…and it’s not this. I’m a big girl now, or at least Irene says I am. I could have said no to this whole thing – at anytime – instead of agreeing to one more crazy episode of Life with Albert. And now I’m going off the deep end for the second time in my life – and with the same cowboy…So how can it be a mistake? Or is it so obviously a mistake that everybody can see it but me? Damn I wish I didn’t want him so badly…So maybe I’m not what I thought I was…Maybe I’m not your normal hard-working career woman…Maybe I’m some kind of aberration…Or maybe not. Maybe all your other normal-looking women – the ones who don’t scream so much but seem to be in such control…maybe they’re just like me inside… But there wasn’t time to think. His smell was in her brain making her shake with expectation…anticipating undiscovered heights of pleasure. There’s just something about the man’s hands, eyes, body…Albert’s hands, eyes and body… She could never quite put her finger on it. It has to be in my cells. My brain’s not involved in this at all. It’s something stronger than I am. Every woman dreams of sleeping with a Greek God once in her life – and I’ve done it more than once. Even if my Greek God is French and drinks like a bottomless pit. And even if I know before I start it will never work… She didn’t want to consider anything but the ripple of muscle in his bare back as he took off his jeans. She was already there, standing by the bed, close to him, warm and naked. He undressed slowly, or so she thought, deliberately folding his jeans before throwing them on the chair by the window. Moments before, he had undressed her hurriedly, and pressed her naked body against his. He’d taken off his shirt, but his jeans were still on, and she enjoyed the hot feel of his manhood through the faded blue denim.