Knowing Page 6

  “I hate talking to them while I’m in here. It just ain’t right. Mae, you gotta talk to my lawyer about getting me outta heah. I can’t stand being cooped up like this too much longer. Baby, please, please call the lawyer in the morning and talk to him before you come down.” There was a pause, then, “Will you promise me you’ll do that?”

  He sounded so pitiful it almost broke her heart. She hated it when he begged like that. For months the judge had been pushing back his trial, always on some kind of technicality, always needing another piece of evidence.

  Robert Earl sat looking out of the barred windows of his cell as he contemplated his situation. One of his cellmates had been arrested for the same crime and was looking at five years in Jackson prison. This wasn’t the first time the other man had been arrested for selling drugs, and he told Robert Earl he’d do his rap, and his woman would work his business until he got out. Start the whole cycle over again. No White man was gonna tell him what to do with his life. What else did they expect him to do for a living? There weren’t any decent jobs for a Black man in this city.

  Robert Earl’s guilt had grown in the months he’d spent locked up. He began rethinking his situation. What he’d do when he got out. How he’d make it up to Mae Thelma and the boys. He wasn’t a hardened criminal like the rest of them, and he did have a choice. He really hadn’t tried hard enough to find another job. He’d taken the easy way out. Hell, he should’ve moved back home to Mississippi and worked in the blue jean factory where his sister was the supervisor. She’d promised him when he left that if he ever wanted to come back home, she’d always have a job waiting for him.

  No thank you, he had told her. The factory life wasn’t for him. His dream was to pursue a career in computers. Leaving his southern home wasn’t easy, but the high-profile jobs just weren’t there.

  After graduating third in his class, he’d moved his family to Michigan. With the excellent recommendations from his professors, he’d found a job programming computers in two weeks. After weeks of scouring the city, he’d found a home in a nice neighborhood close to an elementary school for his two boys. But when the car business had slowed down, it had a domino effect on every field. They’d lived well for the past seven years on a salary of almost thirty-five thousand dollars a year. How could they possibly survive on unemployment, and when that ran out, welfare? It was incomprehensible. Instead, he chose to invest the last of their savings to start up his drug business.

  He’d kept it a secret from Mae Thelma until one of his customers made the mistake of calling his home for a quick buy. She overheard his conversation, and prayed to God to touch his soul so he could see the error of his ways. But she didn’t yell — maybe her silent disappointment was worse than anger.

  Looking back on that awful night of the bust, Robert Earl still felt embarrassed. He’d begged Mae Thelma to keep the boys in their room while the police cuffed him and searched their home for drugs. It was humiliating, their neighbors looking on as their home was turned upside down. It seemed to take forever for the Narcotics agents to find three small, plastic bundles of white powder and a canister of marijuana. If only the lawyer could get him out of here, he’d never play the fool again.

  “This is Ms. Bell, his secretary, Mrs. Collins.”

  “Ma’am, I’d ’preciate it kindly if he’d call me regarding my husband’s case. He’s getting a mite anxious being locked up so long — what with all these postponements. Can you ask Mr. Bowman if he’d go up and see Robert Earl in jail and let him know what’s going on, please ma’am?”

  Ms. Bell cleared her throat several times before answering, “Mr. Bowman has asked me to send out a letter informing your husband than unless you are able to pay him an additional retainer of two thousand dollars, you will have to seek assistance of another attorney, or have free counsel provided for him. You should receive verification and an itemized list of Mr. Bowman’s services and time expenditures while representing your husband in two to three days.”

  Mae Thelma was silent. They’d already withdrawn the last of their money from their savings account. Where would she get two thousand dollars? She took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said as cheerfully as she could before hanging up. Tomorrow’s visit would not be a pleasant one. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her husband’s eyes, yet again.

  That next morning she had to run to catch the bus, she was so nervous, having taken extra care to look her absolute best. Mae Thelma dropped her precious coins into the glass receptacle as the bus traveled south toward the heart of the city. Rocking, rolling along, she sang in a low monotone, “Since Jesus Came into My Heart”: “I’m possessed of a hope that is steadfast and secure, since Jesus came into my heart. There’s a light in the valley of death now for me, since Jesus came into my heart! And the gates of the city beyond I can see, since Jesus came into my heart! And I’m so happy, so happy as onward I go, since Jesus . . .” Her voice suddenly cracked and, like a wide-mouthed ceramic wine crock, became deep and absolutely unusable — it would hold nothing of what was poured into it. She was silent.

  6

  Two Lovers

  Awakened by the blaring of the alarm, Ginger moved away from Jackson’s arm and carefully slid out from beneath the cool powdered sheets. He didn’t like satin sheets. Instead he preferred the smooth, clean feeling of the talc against his body. Jackson insisted on sprinkling their bed nightly with baby powder. He’d told her when they first met that he didn’t like to sweat. The crease behind the back of his calf was the only place where he allowed any perspiration. In the darkness his dusted body seemed to be coated with silver velvet, as smooth and as hard as marble. Throughout the night she would reach over and glide her hands over his lithe, sculptured body — perfection. His luscious sweet lips and the cottony cushion on the bottoms of his feet were the only soft parts of his sleek frame.

  Splashing her face with cold water, she banished any thought of returning to bed for a few more moments of sleep. She began the ritual she practiced every day, morning and evening, of cleansing her skin with clear glycerin soap and using Vaseline as her moisturizer. She loved her Crabtree and Evelyn and her other toiletries, but she left her face in the care of Johnson & Johnson.

  When she was a child, Ginger had noticed that her grandmother’s skin was taut, tight — ageless. At sixty-five years old, the woman still hadn’t had a wrinkle visit her face. She’d told Ginger then that petroleum jelly was all she needed. Now Ginger agreed. It lasted longer than lotion, was cheaper, and was better than the best moisturizers on the market.

  Drying her hands, Ginger turned to see a small figure standing in the darkness outside her bathroom.

  “Mommy, I’m wet,” said Autumn, dragging Suzy Scribbles by the hair. Ginger couldn’t understand why her baby couldn’t stop wetting her bed. She’d tried everything. Taken her to doctor after doctor, who’d all told her that Autumn would have to grow out of it. But Autumn slept deeply and was unable to wake herself when the alarm in her brain signaled for her to go to the bathroom. Sometimes she would be able to hold off until morning, but more often not.

  Not only did Autumn look like her father — she even had the same birthmark on her thigh — but she’d inherited his ability to sleep. Sometimes Ginger felt as if she needed an atomic bomb to get the man out of bed in the morning before he went to work. After she woke him, he had to sit on the side of the bed for at least ten minutes before he could place one foot in front of the other.

  Knowing that Autumn had to be awfully wet to wake by herself, Ginger grabbed a fluffy towel from the rack. “Come here, sweetheart. Mommy’ll change you.”

  She called out into the darkness, to the still form, “It’s time to get up, Jackson.” She quickly washed and changed Autumn.

  His large hands between his inner thighs, his head lowered, he sat recalling their previous night. Lord have mercy, that woman was something else. Reaching down to rub the bulge in his briefs, he knew he needed to take a piss. But that coul
d wait for a few more minutes.

  Jackson enjoyed the role of the aggressor, the conductor who orchestrated the tempo of their lovemaking, the momentum, the facets, the emotion, when it began and how soon it would end. But Ginger had taught him that she too was a conductor. He’d slept with many a woman in the forty-odd years of his life, but never, never, had he felt such oneness. No one had touched off the warmth of his love as she had. He had to have her, forever.

  “Whew!” said Kim, turning up her nose as the smell of Lysol welcomed her and her mother, Jewel, to the second floor of the nursing home. Her father, Ollie Lee, had been a resident of the home since having a stroke almost a year earlier.

  Kim moved at a slow pace to accommodate her mother, who at sixty-nine years old was constantly being mistaken for her grandmother. Kim was tired of explaining to people that she was a change-of-life baby. She resented not having any family. She’d had no sisters or brothers to share secrets with as she grew up, and had had to learn everything on her own.

  When she finally came along, her parents, having almost given up on the idea that they would ever have a child, tried to be perfect. God had created a miracle in their lives— a healthy, beautiful baby girl.

  Jewel was afraid to let Kim outside to play with the other children, worrying that she might hurt herself. Jewel explained to her crying child that the other children were too rough, and hadn’t been properly raised. It was always something, some excuse to keep her inside. Consequently, Kim found it difficult to make friends and was often sad and lonely as a child. Those feelings turned into rebelliousness later in her life.

  Her father, Ollie, not wanting to rock the boat, never overrode any of his wife’s rules and regulations.

  “Mrs. Lee,” the nurse called out from the front desk. The nurse approached the two women exiting the elevator. “Your husband’s had another visitor this morning.” She smoothed the invisible wrinkles from her uniform. “He’s been asking for his sister-in-law. Her name is on the visitors’ list, so we called her yesterday afternoon. When I came on duty this morning, she had already finished feeding him his breakfast. He hasn’t been too well lately.” Then as an afterthought, she added cheerily, “She brought him a real nice bouquet.”

  “Hard to believe Katherine came all the way here in this kind of weather,” said Jewel, looking at Kim. “It’s been snowing and raining for the last couple of days. She don’t go outside when it’s raining. You know how bad her asthma is getting. Can’t rightly figure it.”

  The nurse left them outside the room, explaining that she would discuss the new treatments the doctor had recommended for Mr. Lee after their visit.

  As Jewel entered the room, she paused to admire Katherine’s lovely flowers perched on the tray next to the hospital bed. Her husband lay sleeping on his side, his back turned toward the window. Kim took her mother by the arm, guiding her slowly toward the bed. Ollie moved slightly at the sound of the old familiar footsteps.

  “Jewel,” he uttered, as he inhaled the sweet fragrance of her rose perfume. Every day of their past fifty-one years of marriage, she’d worn the essence he’d given to her on her eighteenth birthday.

  “I’m here, honey,” said Jewel in a hushed voice. Reaching out to touch his face, she felt the warmth of his skin. She kissed his forehead. “Sweetie. I miss you, sweetie.”

  Kim rubbed the top of her father’s shiny bald head, kissing it tenderly. “Hi, Daddy. You feeling all right today?” He nodded. The faraway look in is eyes belied the assertion. She loved her father dearly and couldn’t bear to see him like this. His sense of humor had helped her through many a night of crying after an angry breakup with a boyfriend. In her teens, she sought out his opinion, allowing his wisdom to guide her through difficult growing pains. She told him her secrets. He never judged, just listened and gave his advice as well as he could.

  “Mama, I’m going outside for a cigarette. I’ll let you two be alone for a while. Be back in a few minutes.” Kim realized the two lovebirds needed time alone before she asked her usual questions. Besides, she couldn’t wait to make a quick exit; the overpowering scent of the carnations and her mother’s excessive rose perfume reminded her of a funeral parlor.

  Jewel patted the back of her husband’s hand. She hated this room. The walls were painted a dull army green. Not a picture or a plaque on them. Just an ancient black and white clock, ticking angrily. Beige, water-stained drapes drooped and sagged, missing several hooks. Outside the metal-encased window, the drizzling rain tapped incessantly against a backdrop of a dull gray Monday-morning sky.

  Jewel took a deep breath and continued quietly. “Honey, we got to get you outta here. You got to do what the doctor says, so you can come home.” His head sank farther back into the pillow. Moving his lips, he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t surface. He turned his head, looking toward the window at the silvery sprinkles.

  Driving home, Jewel confided to Kim that she thought Ollie wasn’t getting any better. He’d barely spoken five words during the time she was there. For a moment when he stared at her, she was sure he didn’t recognize her. Wiping her eyes with her lace handkerchief, she admitted to Kim that she didn’t know what she’d do if something happened to Ollie.

  “Mama, Daddy’s gonna be just fine,” Kim said softly as she pulled fresh tissues from the box, offering them to her mother. Jewel’s favorite handkerchief was soaked clear through. Rain clouds darkened the sky. Silvery threads of lightning veined the atmosphere. “The doctors said —”

  “What do they know!” Jewel fired. “They’ve been saying the same thing for months. ‘Mr. Lee’s prognosis for a full recovery is good, Mrs. Lee. Just a few more weeks of physical therapy and his mobility should be back to normal.’ ” Jewel turned her face away. A watershed of fresh tears trailed down her softly lined cheeks.

  Kim slowed her gold Mazda and waited for the red light. Rain streaked the windshield like welts. She had no idea how to reach her mother. Their conversations never lasted more than a few sentences. Whenever problems arose, her father was always there with the right words, the needed hugs to bring Kim out of her angered state. Jewel was seldom irritated or impatient. But she believed in taking her problems to the Lord. Prayer was her answer for everything.

  Clasping her hands tightly upon her lap, Jewel rocked steadily. “I should have never taken him to that place.” Her rocking slowed as she turned her head slightly toward Kim. Her eyes looked up at the bleak sky.

  “Daddy had a stroke, Mama,” said Kim as she changed lanes. She felt a headache coming. “He needed hospitalization. You couldn’t possibly —”

  “You trying to tell me them doctors can heal better than the Lord can?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Kim pushed her foot a little harder on the gas pedal. The speedometer edged up to fifty-five. “It’s just that sometimes the Lord uses the doctors to heal too. God don’t have time for everybody, Mama, He’s busy.”

  Jewel whipped her head to her left, pressing her right elbow on her cocked, right knee. “Seems to me you the one too busy ’round here. You need to take some time away from that job and get down on your knees and pray.” Jewel hmmphed. “Lord knows most of them folks working there ain’t going nowhere but to hell. Can’t you stop worshiping the devil’s money long enough to spend more time with your own father? Care more about money than you do your soul.”

  Kim’s fingers gripped the steering wheel. “Mama, can’t you understand how hard I worked to get this position? It’s not the money —”

  “I’ll take a taxi to visit your father tomorrow,” said Jewel, cutting her off abruptly. “You don’t have to worry about rushing home.” Jewel sat back stiffly. “I want some definite dates in determining his progress. Otherwise, he’s coming back home where he belongs.”

  “Please think about Daddy, Mama. He needs nurses monitoring him twenty-four hours a day. You’re not able to —”

  “Young lady, don’t you begin to tell me what I’m capable of doing. If you were any kin
d of daughter, you’d offer to take a little time off that job and help me.”

  “How can I help you? I know about numbers, not medicine, Mama.” Kim felt a rush of blood up the back of her neck. “I wish you could try and understand that the best thing we can do for Daddy is —”

  “You’re just selfish. Don’t think about no one but yourself. One of these days you’re gonna need me and your daddy, and you know what? We won’t be there.”

  “Please don’t say that, Mama. I love you and Daddy. You’re all I have.”

  “You don’t need us — just that job. Don’t even want any kids, that’s how selfish you are. Got no time for nobody but Kim. I don’t know how Bill puts up with you. He must have the patience of Job.”

  Bill. Kim needed a night alone with Mr. Bill. A good screwing — now that would take her mind off the problems of her parents. Biting her tongue so as not to lash back at her mother, she prayed silently for mercy to follow her, not just all the days of her life, but Lord, just grant her the calmness to make it through today.

  “How’d your lecture go at Wayne this afternoon?” asked Kim as she watched Bill devouring his steak.

  “Okay. Dr. Ingram’s speech was far more interesting,” Bill answered between bites. He took short, quick, glances at her over his black-framed glasses.

  Dr. Ingram had been Bill’s professor when he attended Wayne State University, and they had remained friends over the years. Kim loved to listen to Bill speak. He sounded so much like her father. He had most of his qualities: maturity, level-headedness, wisdom. But best of all, he took the time to listen to her whenever she came to him with a problem. The only trait Bill lacked was her father’s sense of humor.