Pearla

"My name is Pearla."

"Pearla, what and interesting name," I said.

"I was named after my family. Pe- for Pedro my brother, Ar- for Armando my other brother, L for Luciana my mother and A- for my dad Allesandro. I wish my name was Liz; but, no one has a first name starting with the letter I or Z in my family. I like the name Liz, like the woman in Eat Pray Love.  I am just like her except, I have two daughters. I love my dark chocolate and my white chocolate. I have a picture, look."

She picked up her cell phone and showed me and image. "The dark one, she's ten. Her name's Julianna and the white one, she's only six months old. Her name is Maria.

"Adorable," I said.

"I love them so much." Pearla smooched the photo on her phone. She picked up my right hand and started rubbing off the nail polish.  She continued talking. "I don't love the man I'm with, Maria's father."

"That's incredible," I said looking at her and watching as she took the polish off of my other hand.

"It really isn't. Most women and men living together don't love each other," she said.

"No, it's incredible that you are so honest with your feelings," I said.

"Are you married?"

"Several times," I said and laughed.

"Do you love your husband?"

"Yes, I do," I said looking into her eyes. Pearla wanted to believe me. She so desperately wanted to believe in love. She had finished filing the nails on one hand and motioned for me to give her my other hand.

"What about Juliana's father?" I asked.

"He lives in Columbia and I will always love him," she said.

"Columbia?"

"We met in Columbia. He went to high school down the street from my school. He was dating someone else at the same time we were dating. She is still very pretty. We're friends on Facebook," she said. Pearla picked up her cell phone and showed me a picture of the woman on Facebook. She was on the beach in a bikini and a base ball cap. "She's ok. You're prettier," I said and I meant it.

"I think she's beautiful. Pepe had a son with her three years before our daughter was born. I didn't find out until last year.

"Why did you divorce if you don't mind me asking," I said.

"I don't mind. When I first came to Miami my mother and one brother were here. I got a job working as a clerk and then my husband came. I got a job for him working at Wendys. He always went out late with the guys and it was rough on me. We already had our daughter and we were living with my mother. He was never home and he didn't make any money. He never tried to make anything of himself; so, I had enough.

"I get it," I said. She finished filing buffing and rubbing my hands with lotion and put one of my hands into a bowl of warm water that had smooth blue stones in the bottom. "Did you have your second child with the man you are with now because he wanted a baby?"

"I'm 35 and I wanted another baby. In the beginning, I had feelings for Maria's father; but, now I don't. We fight alot." She took my hand out of the water, dried if off and put my other hand in the bowl. "I have a question for you," she said. "Why do you love your husband?"

The first thing that came to my mind was, "Because he loves and respects me."

Pearla was surprised at my answer and she waited a few minutes before she responded.

"There is one man that I have loved all my life and I have a great deal of respect for him and he loves and shows me respect- that's my father. He's Italian. I would do anything for my father," she said.

I smiled at Pearla and she smiled at me. She looked relieved and her eyes had filled with tears. 

"Thank you. I forgot, I am loved," she said.