Her words were raw, filled with fresh grief like it just happened yesterday.
“What a horrible thing to happen. I’m sorry, Pearl.”
She leaned over and put another record on called the “Tennessee Waltz.” Then she flopped down in front of me and ran her fingers through her short, dark curls.
The singer was forlorn and sang about her friend stealing her darling. Pearl sang along a minute and then said, “The devil robbed me of my sweetheart that day. Why I finally decided to take the summer job in Big Knob and then landed here. That, and if it was good enough for Hallie Daggett, it was good enough for me.”
I shuddered, thinking about her loss and the tragic deaths.
“If I had stayed, I could’ve saved them.” She clenched a fist. “The town thinks so too—”
“No, Pearl. You could’ve perished like them.”
“I’ll never know.”
“I’m glad you weren’t there.” I peered into her guilt-ridden eyes, wishing I could lift her somber burden. “You’re gonna be fine here watching over the hills,” I said softly and took her hand.
“Enough of this gloomy talk.” She examined my nails and raised her brows. “I have the perfect polish for you. And some good cosmetics you can try. Come on, I’ll show you.”
“Why?” I said, puzzled.
“Well, it’s a party, so for fun, and it’ll also make you look older if you wear it at your emancipation hearing. We can practice now,” Pearl said.
“Oh, older. Yes, that’s a good idea.” I studied her earrings.
“Would you like me to pierce your ears? Mother did mine. And I bought some potatoes at the Company store just in case.” She grinned mischievously, her dimples deepening.
“Potatoes?” I cupped my earlobes, horrified at the thought, scared of the pain. “I don’t know, Pearl. And, well, I don’t own any earrings.”
“You can wear my little pearl ones until you can get a pair. I pierced Jane Scott’s ears at my last party, and they turned out perfect.”
“Did she cry?”
“Squealed like a stuck pig, but Jane would cry if an ant crawled over her little toe. It doesn’t hurt much at all, Honey. C’mon, it’ll be fun and you’ll be the sophisticated one,” she teased as she stood up. “Let’s eat something first. I made us some food this morning. I’ll just warm the biscuits and get the ham out of the icebox.”
We ate and then chatted about books as she applied makeup on me. When she was through, she grabbed a small glass bottle of perfume off her chifforobe and spritzed it on my neck and wrists, perfuming the cab.
While I looked in the mirror, studying my transformation, Pearl got out a skillet, heated and poured corn kernels into it, making us a generous batch of buttery popcorn. Three drinks and an hour later, Pearl sterilized a sewing needle, numbed my flesh with an ice cube, then put a potato behind my ear.
“Don’t move, Honey.”
I remembered when Mama had ol’ Doc inoculate me for smallpox, scarlet fever, and other bad things, and suddenly wanted to run. “Wait, my bladder’s full, and I don’t want to pee in the chair.” I gasped and then escaped, slipping inside her closet to relieve myself on the chamber pot.
Seated back at the table, I gulped down a mouthful of liquor, closed my eyes, and took one deep breath and another, latching onto the wooden seat, gripping it with all my might as she pushed the needle through my flesh.
“There!” she exclaimed, bending down to my face. “Are you okay, Honey? I hope it didn’t hurt much.”
I exhaled a slow trembling yes, relieved it was over so quick. Pearl cleaned my lobe with rubbing alcohol, pushed the small pearl post into my ear before doing the other side. “Don’t take them out for about a month—the longer the better. Twist the earrings around every chance you get and keep your skin clean with rubbing alcohol.”