It seemed the dusty one lane road would continue forever. Fields of rice on each side, and the road itself was directed by a single row of power lines, vanishing into the horizon; never ending. The early summer would bring mosquitoes, and gnats would congregate in a giant swarm in the middle of the lane. Pearl would place her tiny hand out of the passenger side window, letting the breeze filter through her fingers. The smell of wet grass lingered in her nose for days after a trip out to the farmhouse; it was a nostalgia that left her with homesickness, but also with calm.
Her father always blasted the little radio to its breaking point, the windows in the little Toyota truck shaking, almost whimpering from the volume. Pearl would lean her head on the passenger door, watching herself in the side mirror as it shook from Fleetwood Mac’s greatest hits. Ervin always played the album for his daughter on the long ride. They would listen to it over and over, the tape player groaning and wheezing loudly when it attempted switch sides. The car itself was dented in many parts. The passenger door had been side swiped by a tractor and therefore was impossible for the young girl to open on her own. The maroon of the paint was scarred with oxidization. Pearl would chip the paint off little by little using her fingernails. Often she would cut her fingers on the sharp flakes; Ervin would shake his head, but say nothing as he watched his daughter stick her finger in her mouth to suck the blood off of her wounds. When they arrived at the farm, Pearl would scurry out the open window, rather than follow her father out his driver’s side door, an event that always sparked annoyance from her from Ervin. He thought his daughter clumsy and awkward, a fair conclusion, as she had the scars and constant bruises to prove it. He usually remained silent regarding her physical ineptness. He figured he would step in when she was in mortal danger.
Even if her inelegance was obvious, that didn’t slow her drive to be just as energetic as her older, more coordinated brothers. She had four in fact, and being the youngest and the only girl made her a tough one. Her father worried that she wouldn’t learn the ways of being a lady, seeing as she didn’t have any sisters, or a mother to teach her. He didn’t understand that to be female was enough and that Pearl would learn in her own time, to become a “lady,” whatever definition she discovered. Honestly, Ervin didn’t have the capacity to understand much about women at all. The thought that his daughter would one day become one made his palms clammy and his head swim with fear.