Mr. Know-All

I had just finished spending a year back home in New York when out of the blue I received a phone call. I wasn’t surprised to hear my husband’s voice, rather I was disappointed. He had been stationed in Kobe, since he was working for the American Consular Service. I had waited so long to visit home again and I wasn’t ready to go back, and when I heard him say he was flying over to get me, my heart dropped. It was our deal from the get-go, and though I knew it was bound to happen, it didn’t make the heartache any better. I knew I’d miss my family but the truth is, the real disappointment was to see him.

To be completely honest, I had met someone during the year I was in New York. i know it was wrong and it shouldn’t had happened, but it wasn’t my fault. I was lonely and I just couldn’t take it anymore, and one night when I went out to the bar at the Plaza Hotel, and this fine mannered, wealthy gentleman came my way, I just couldn’t resist talking to him.

That first moment he approached me, I wanted to jump at the opportunity, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself so I had to behave wisely. We had a slight conversation, I learned his name and what his business was; it’s safe to say he was very well off. He walked off a few moments later, still interested in me, so I managed to attract his attention with my gaze while drinking my red wine, and he approached me again. 

He Truly is one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. A tall man, well dressed with an Irish accent. From that point forward our relationship spiraled. It was exciting, and even terrifying at times. Obviously, we had to keep it a secret because I couldn’t risk any people I know finding out, since I could have even been sent to jail, but that secrecy just made it all the more exhilarating. His wealth just amplified it all (my husband and I never made enough money with his consular job), and he even bought me this one of a kind pearl necklace that my husband could never dream of buying. I will never forget our final conversation in which he told me bout his summer place, a giant house with red tiles made entirely of mahogany wood with a majestic living room and an elegant decorated fireplace, where he dreamed of living with me for the rest of our lives. 

At 7:00 am on the dot that next morning, my husband knocked at the door. I gathered myself and made myself look as happy as possible, though I wasn’t. I opened the door and let out an excited cry (fake, of course). I hugged and kissed him – disgustedly – and he told me to get my suitcase, as we would have to leave immediately. He was excited and I could tell he genuinely missed me.

I got the suitcase and as we ran down towards the taxi he stopped dead in his tracks. At that moment I said, “come on, the driver’s waiting for us!” He looked at me with a confused stare for a few seconds and then asked, “where did you get that necklace? Where did you get the money for that?” Damn it, I thought to myself. I realized that I had forgotten to remove my lover’s pearl necklace, and that I had to quickly think of an explanation for it.

Luckily for me my instincts immediately kicked in. I replied, “Oh, me and a couple of girlfriends were down at 6th avenue and I saw these wonderful cultured pearls at the department store, and only for eighteen dollars!”

“Oh, well I’ll say, they are wonderful!”

We got in the taxi, arrived at the port, boarded our ship, and set off for Japan, with a stop in San Francisco.

The first two weeks are sailing went by fine, but after the stop in San Francisco, everything changed. Some people me and my husband met got off the ship, and a new batch of people boarded. There was nothing special about these people – they were absolutely ordinary – except for one specific person.

This one man, an Arab which I assumed was from Egypt, was one of the most barbaric, arrogant, and uncultured men I have ever met. He went around all day long, acting like he knew everything and that his personal experiences around the world trumped everybody else’s normal lives. On top of that, all day long he would follow this innocent Englishman who was plagued with being his cellmate for the duration of the trip. The oriental’s name was Mr. Kelada.

On the ship I wore my best manners and was the most modest and charismatic of all the women there. My husband was proud of me and the men on the ship were jealous, but none of them knew my secret. One night, three weeks after San Francisco, my husband and I sat down at the dinner table along with some other people we had met at sea, including the two cellmates. We were eating dinner and it all went well until the conversation shifted to the topic of pearls. Mr. Kelada once again acted as if he knew everything, and my proud husband, who picked up some self confidence from the men’s jealousy of his wife, decided to pick at Mr. Kelada’s ego. He made a few nonsensical comments, obviously false, as Mr. Kelada took him seriously and tried to prove him wrong. My husband kept annoying him until he finally burst. He slammed his fists on the table and exclaimed, “Well, I ought to know what I am talking about. I’m going to Japan just to look into this Japanese pearl business. I’m in the trade and there’s not a man in it who won’t tell you that what I say about pearls
goes. I know all the best pearls in the world, and what I don’t know about pearls isn’t worth knowing.” Then, he claimed to know the difference between cultured pearls and real pearls better than anybody, and pointed to my necklace, telling us that it was 100% real. I blushed and panicked, afraid that my husband was about to find out my secret, and I quickly tucked it into my dress. My husband, who thought they were fake, decided to make a bet with Mr. Kelada, that if they were truly fake then he would get a hundred dollars. I tried to stop Mr. Kelada from inspecting it, but my husband insisted. He took his magnifying glass out and I was petrified. As he picked up his head and looked at me, he matched my terrified face, and I could tell that he figured out my secret. To my surprise, as he opened his mouth, he said that they were in fact cultured and that he was mistaken. He paid the hundred dollars to my husband and went back to his cell. He looked both shocked and humiliated at the same time, and the table erupted with laughter and discussion.

I was distraught, but I didn’t show it. Jesus, I thought to myself, I nearly got caught. I went back to my room in complete silence as my husband ranted about what had just

happened. I didn`t say a word for the rest of the night.

it struck me the moment I woke up the following morning. Mr. kelada saved me! I can`t believe what he did,

I cant believe that I thought he was barbaric, he truly is a gentleman! moments later, I realized that I had to pay him back. I got up out of bed before my husband woke up, and took a hundred-dollar bill out of my purse and into an envelope. I quickly wrote Mr. kelada`s name on the back of the envelope, put on my shoes, and then went to stick it under his door. From now on I will never feel the same way about him, he was so gentle all the time but I guess that life isn’t so easy and simple after all. Maybe this saga was good for me. From on I`ll always keep this sentence in my mind "every struggle that comes after you can only prepare you for the next one". This was a substantial series of events in my life and I can`t say that I didn`t enjoy it. 

a great song by an amazing writer that made a lovely story telling about her true love. when we heard it, in the first moment we just thought that this is it!

and if it’s okay we would like for the end as a little summary of our book to add a little quote from the song;

“There’s no, no looking back for us
                   We got love sure nough, that’s enough”