Knowing Page 30

  Shaking his head vehemently, Jason replied, “It don’t, Ma. I love my family.”

  Ginger was so proud of her son at that moment, as she shook her head, slightly in awe. She forced herself to sit erect, trying to hold her emotions in check. “We’ll handle this. Together. Just trust me, Jason. Trust me.” Cupping her arms around his muscular shoulder, she pulled him close.

  The next morning, Ginger made an appointment with a therapist at Mount Carmel Out-Patient Child Psychiatry Center for herself and Jason.

  The first meeting went smoothly as she explained her son’s problems. Ginger tried valiantly not to reveal her own problems. Dr. Fielding was so genuinely caring, yet also professional, and was easy to talk to. Ginger was almost unable to hold back her own personal anxieties.

  Dr. Fielding explained to Ginger that after a divorce, one child in particular would feel the trauma of the split family. But each child was different, and must be treated accordingly. Some children would be more needy than others, no matter how strong a defense they tried to project to the contrary. He cited examples of children who took years of therapy to adjust to the separation of their parents. Some never recuperated. He helped Ginger to understand that when a child truly and deeply loved both of their parents, it was hard for that child to choose between them.

  Ginger remembered that the judge had mentioned, during the divorce proceedings, that when a child reached the age of fourteen in Michigan, he could petition the court, with the aid of the noncustodial parent, for change of custody. The thought of her son wanting to go and live with his father or his father pursuing custody of his son terrified Ginger. She couldn’t bear the thought of splitting up her children.

  * * *

  April and May proved to be difficult months in the Montgomery home. In the two months since the attempted rape, Ginger dropped weight like a hammer. Flashbacks of that night seemed to be overtaking her senses. She couldn’t control if or when the flashback would occur. Guilt overwhelmed her, guilt at not being in control of the situation, not reading the obvious signs. How could she have been so stupid?

  She’d changed the scenario of that night so many times that she felt as though she were losing her mind. But she kept it inside. The fear. The hurt. The humiliation. The shame. It propelled her to function without thinking, yet caused her to break down into a state of helplessness at a moment’s notice.

  Ginger was constantly on guard, never knowing which feelings would surface. Her nerves were shot. She lost twenty pounds, twenty nervous pounds that looked like thirty-five on her short frame. She’d told so many lies to Jackson, she couldn’t keep track of them. Lies about her weight. Lies about not being able to sleep at night. Lies about her short temper. Lies about not wanting to have sex so frequently. They were catching up with her.

  It was as if she were sleepwalking through the next few months of her life. Trying to rationalize what was happening to her as she tried to readjust. Praying for a sense of normalcy. Trying to cope with Jason.

  Dr. Fielding had even called in Michael, Jason’s father. He felt that his support was needed. Secretly, Ginger thanked God that Dr. Fielding’s infinite wisdom had told him that Jason wasn’t getting the nurturing from his stepfather that he so severely needed. The few sessions that Michael spent with the therapist seemed to help Jason’s attitude, and his grades began reflecting it.

  That Friday before Memorial Day weekend, the counselor of Ferndale High School called to speak to Ginger about her son’s final test scores. Jason had passed his GED requirements with flying colors. Even Christian, in all his quietness, became a bit more vocal, constantly voicing his praise for Jason’s game-winning slam dunks.

  Knowing now that his graduation was assured, Ginger began preparations for the big event on Wednesday, June 19: Jason’s eighteenth birthday and graduation party.

  Ginger had kept Jackson at bay with his constant questions about her sleeping problems and quick loss of temper. It wasn’t easy. But Ginger managed to curtail his constant prodding with news of her latest closings. Money. Lump sums of money seem always to distract most people from their problems. Nevertheless, Jackson wasn’t buying it when Ginger informed him that Michael Carter would be at the graduation party.

  Jackson was as furious as Ginger was serious about involving her son’s father in his graduation. Ginger reminded Jackson that he was the one who’d suggested that allowing Jason to flunk would teach him a good lesson. Now that the tables had turned, and Ginger’s son was graduating with his class, Jackson only vaguely remembered the conversation.

  Katherine called, offering her help to Ginger, knowing she was strung out with her job and real estate ventures. Ginger declined, saying she had everything under control. So on Saturday, the eighth of June, one of the hottest days of summer, when Katherine showed up unannounced, Ginger wasn’t surprised, but relieved. Her euphoria over the party had waned after Jackson had refused to attend.

  Her mother noticed right away that Ginger wasn’t herself. “Baby, sit down and rest a bit. You know I can handle everything. Just relax.” Yet Katherine knew from the glassy look in Ginger’s eyes that she hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  Ginger sat in the kitchen hearing her mother talk to her as though Katherine’s voice were an echo. Occasionally she would nod, when she heard a break in Katherine’s speech pattern. Throughout the week, Katherine made last-minute arrangements that she knew Ginger would approve of. She called caterers, gardeners, even went shopping with Jason for his graduation suit. Katherine and Ginger’s tastes were similar, and it wasn’t hard for Katherine to re-create each detail Ginger had reiterated the year before about the party.

  At three o’clock on Sunday afternoon, the sixteenth of June, Jason Carter would walk across the stage at Ferndale High School to receive his diploma. He would be wearing a navy blue cap and gown and the new navy double-breasted suit his grandmother had helped him select. Christian, Sierra, and Autumn had chosen the cream shirt; gold, cream, and navy paisley tie; and size-thirteen navy Florsheims.

  Ginger, Katherine, Christian, Sierra, and Autumn had all come early. They sat two rows back behind the nervous graduates-to-be. Jason waved and smiled intermittently at his family until his name was called. No one had inquired about Jackson’s absence.

  Sitting a row behind them, Michael Carter proudly videotaped his eldest son’s graduation, from start to finish. Later, he offered Ginger a copy of the video. Ginger awkwardly accepted, since Jackson usually videotaped all the family occasions. Michael offered to bring the copy to Jason’s graduation party.

  No one but Kim knew of the bitter argument between Ginger and Jackson about Michael coming to his own son’s graduation party. Ginger was ashamed to broach the problem to Katherine. She knew what Katherine’s response would be: “Don’t you let him intimidate you into spoiling your son’s graduation party! His father has the right to be there. This is a time in Jason’s life that he’ll never forget. It’s up to you, Ginger, to make it special for him.”

  Two days before the party, Ginger broke out in hives. The medical technical diagnosis was urticaria. Her skin resembled a bland piece of lumpy rubber. Katherine did her best to get Ginger to take a tablespoon of Epsom salts to counteract her symptoms. Katherine knew that Ginger’s daily habit of ingesting Lipton tea only added to the progression of her ailment.

  The weather was as close to perfect as party-perfect could be. Early that morning, Katherine turned on music inside the three-car garage. She felt festive. The neighbors had been forewarned. There would be a graduation party going on at 1935 Berkshire Drive that afternoon, and well into the night. Katherine hadn’t felt this good in years. Her firstborn grandchild had graduated. What a blessing! Out of money, but not of hope and love, Katherine felt as if she were blessed with the riches of a queen because she knew that some people have plenty to live on, but nothing to live for.

  The stage was set. The theme, a Hawaiian luau. Twenty-two white-clothed card tables were similarly decorated. The colo
r scheme, emerald and avocado greens, mystic jade, rich yellow-golds, petal-dusk pinks, and bright, titanium white. Floating orchid candles were the centerpieces. Later that afternoon, a fresh orchid would garnish each table. Prodigious palm trees were rented and bordered the party area. A cabana covered two of the long buffet tables. Beautiful bone china, sterling silver flatware, and linen napkins were rented to complete the ambience.

  Much to Jackson’s annoyance, Ginger also rented the Palmer Woods Association pool for the entire day. And Katherine, in her genius for party-planning, convinced her to complete the Hawaiian atmosphere by renting four palm trees to grace each corner of the pool. Ginger couldn’t help but admire her mother’s tenacity after rushing off early Saturday morning for the coup de grâce: fresh water lilies, floating lazily atop circular accompanying pads in the pool.

  Katherine wiggled her toes through the sand on the west side of the acre lot. Five truckloads of beach sand were dumped onto plastic sheathing carefully laid to protect the grass. This was another argument Ginger had won. Katherine shook her head slightly, partly from the pride of her daughter for sticking up to Jackson for her son, and partly from what Ginger had suffered internally in doing so. It was clear to her that Ginger could only bravely pretend that she was happy.

  Katherine’s three other daughters, LaWanda, Gwen, and Sherry, had arrived late the day before. They brought gifts for the girls, and money for the graduate. After exchanging pleasantries and catching up on old gossip, they retired to the third-floor bedroom quarters.

  Turning her head toward an indistinct sound, Katherine noticed that Jackson had awakened. He was headed toward the back of the garage. After a few moments, the smell of lighter fluid was in the air. It was time to start the fire for the spit. A whole pig would be roasted with a large apple in its mouth.

  Time. Almost out of time — Sierra and Autumn were ready early, wearing their floral bathing suits and grass skirts to greet the guests. Between them, they’d practiced a Hawaiian dance with Kim’s help.

  Two weeks earlier, Ginger had made and frozen several dishes, refusing to have the desserts catered. Two roastpans full of peach cobbler. A commercial-sized tray each of blackberry cobbler, apple crisps, cherry crisps, and an oversized round centerpiece dessert of latticed fresh pineapple pie.

  Katherine sweated profusely as she took extra care in each small detail. She sprinkled handfuls of sand along the salad table, giving it the casual effect as if you were at a beach. The top halves of pineapples were layered to look as if the branches were extending outwards. Easter grass was strategically placed around each miniature palm tree that graced the table beside the candle decorations. Scrutinizing each decorative attachment on the outsides of the watermelon baskets, she added a few grapes here, a couple of cocktail umbrellas there. Green, purple, and red grapes, watermelon, melon, cantaloupe, cherries, kiwi, pineapple, and papaya were chilled separately in a sparse amount of natural sugar overnight. Later, the mixture would be placed inside the carved-out watermelons. Moments before the party a drop of lemon flavor would be added to the fruit baskets, along with a splash of 7UP, and each would be carefully sprinkled with a soft touch of powdered sugar.

  “Mama, is Ginger all right?” asked LaWanda as she whisked a chilled vegetable tray toward the patio. “She seems a little distracted.”

  “Keep an eye on her. She’s been under too much of a strain lately.” Katherine kissed her baby daughter affectionately on the cheek, and steered her toward the door.

  “Granny! Granny!” hollered Autumn. “Where’s Mommy? The people are starting to come.”

  “Can you go upstairs and check on her for me, baby? I think she’s putting on her makeup.”

  Fighting back tears, Ginger willed herself to think only of her son. She would get her strength from his happiness. His smile was all she needed. Feathering the strands of her wig with a pick, she gelled and spiked her hair to look like Tina Turner’s.

  The floral dress she’d selected nearly a month ago seemed to swim around her slim frame. Layering several strands of Hawaiian garlands around her neck, she doused perfume on her neck and slipped into her sandals.

  “Hi, baby,” said Ginger, bending down and fluffing Autumn’s bangs. “Is Kim here yet?” Autumn shook her head no. Hand in hand they walked downstairs.

  “You did good, baby,” said Katherine as Ginger and Autumn walked into the party scene. The glitter of colored lights illuminated her pupils as the dusk complemented the setting. Various-sized gifts toppled over the sides of the table. Colored envelopes with prickly bows were scattered among the pretty packages.

  The guests needed coaxing to eat. They were so overwhelmed by the beauty of the presentation of the food, they wouldn’t touch it until Katherine led the way.

  “Jackson hasn’t spoken to me since Michael arrived,” said Ginger nervously. Ginger eyed Sherry laughing with Michael as she spoke.

  Katherine hadn’t missed a beat. Sherry had been drinking too much, and Katherine was keeping an eye on all four of her girls to make sure things ran smoothly. Tonight, she remained stone sober.

  It was nearly seven-thirty. The main course was heartily eaten. Seventy-nine guests were eager to sample the sumptuous desserts. Ginger received a number of compliments on her rich cobblers. Some weren’t satisfied until Ginger promised to stick the recipes in with Jason’s thank-you notes.

  “I guess Kim couldn’t make it,” said Ginger, scanning the crowd. Katherine was about to speak when their thoughts were diverted by a vision in gold, emerging from the crowd, escorted by Jackson.

  Mae Thelma, in a skin-tight buttercup-yellow sundress, smiled a sultry smile. Her hips moved like a swan over a silver lake as she made her way through the crowd toward Ginger and Katherine.

  “That bitch should be outlawed wearing a dress like that! She’d stop traffic down Woodward Avenue,” said Katherine in a jealous tone.

  When other women stopped to stare at another woman, you knew the woman was looking good! Heads turned, and turned back. Some in envy, some in awe. Graceful folds of silk jersey flowed generously from Mae Thelma’s midthigh to the bend of her knee. Three piped strips crisscrossed her back, exposing moist, fresh, golden flesh. Fresh yellow and white baby’s breath arched lengths of wavy, luxuriating jet hair, pinned to the side, swaying easily alongside her left hip.

  “You look lovely, Mae Thelma. It’s so good to see you,” said Ginger, giving her a quick kiss on her left cheek. Katherine ignored her and rolled her eyes in Jackson’s direction. “Help yourself to anything you’d like.” Ginger angled her hand toward the buffet tables of food.

  “I’m hungry as —”

  “Ma!” said Jason excitedly. Water streamed down his neon pink swimming trunks, swirling and curling over his muscular, hairy legs. “The party’s great. Everybody’s having a good time.” He was nearly out of breath. “Everybody said this is the best party they’ve ever been to.” Jason hugged and kissed his mother, oblivious to all standing near.

  For that moment, that single moment, Ginger knew, she knew. Mae Thelma could have walked in there stark naked. Jackson could have screamed at the top of his lungs about the grass. The sand. Anything. Ginger felt a moment of peace. A second of total, absolute respect for being a mother. She’d done her child good. She’d made him happy. She’d made him proud.

  Jason’s love and respect for his mother. Her love and respect for her child. Was anything in life more important?

  “Mama,” said Ginger, near tears. She wrapped a protective arm around Katherine’s shoulder, and the tips of their heads touched, softly. Ginger’s eyes followed her son as he disappeared into the crowd. “Turn up the music. Let’s show these young folks how to do the Funky Butt.” Throughout the evening Ginger caught glimpses of Christian dancing. He was obviously enjoying himself tonight also. She smiled quietly, and felt good.

  Sherry had gotten halfway high as the depth of darkness descended into evening. Drifting toward Michael, she flirted with her ex-brother-in-law.
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  Michael, no fool by any means, read the signs and quickly exited, stage left.

  Katherine nearly dragged Sherry into the downstairs bathroom with her right hand, balancing a cocktail glass of ginger ale on the rocks with the other. Careful that none of the other guests could hear the mother-daughter confrontation, she whispered harshly, “Are you out of your mind? I saw what you were trying to do with Michael.” Sweat crinkled the edges of Katherine’s thick red hair.

  “No harm done,” Sherry stated as she plopped her small frame, fully clothed, on top of the toilet. An awkward smile spanned her face. She tried to dismiss the disheveled young woman in the mirror, but the same face kept creeping back into view. The last few years had aged her. It showed. Too many men. Too many late nights, two too many kids. She was thirty-five years old, but felt much older. Crow’s-feet extended beyond the black mascara under her thin lashes. Dark circles shrouded vanishing cheekbones beneath layers of foundation.

  Katherine slapped her. “I overheard you asking Ginger about her wig. How could you be so callous? Have you lost all respect for yourself? For your sister?”

  Fury and guilt exclaimed in her eyes. “I simply gave her a compliment —”

  “By saying ‘I actually thought that was your hair!’ ”

  Sherry looked away shamefacedly. “Besides, I’ve heard Ginger make jokes about her hair before. Why can’t I?” Barely audible, Sherry added, “I didn’t think it bothered her anymore.”

  A low commotion outside the bathroom caused Katherine to cut her sermon short. She glared wildly into Sherry’s face, honing in on her point. “Let her make the jokes. How could you possibly know how she feels? Have you ever lost all your hair?” Katherine’s voice wavered. Sherry knew she had pushed her mother to the limits. Sobriety edged itself into reality. Being high was no longer a viable excuse.