Knowing (40 page)

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.

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.

Sierra was full of cheer when she told her mother, “Mama, Dink was so nice to me today. He showed me how to float on my back at the pool.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Even in front of his girlfriend,” she continued.

Ginger and Sierra worked together putting away the food as the crowd thinned. Gwen hadn’t lasted but a couple of hours at the party before she feigned a migraine headache. Living in London for so many years, it was difficult for her to adjust to Michigan time.

After Gwen was safely upstairs, Katherine confided in her three other daughters that Gwen’s marriage was on the rocks, that it was the time that her husband was spending with his other woman while Gwen was away that was giving her the headache.

Jason peeped his head over the refrigerator door and looked down at Ginger as she made room on the bottom shelf. “Me and the guys cleaned up the pool area, Mom. Jackson told us not to bother with the yard, he’d do it tomorrow.”

“Thanks sweetheart.”

“Have you had anything to eat, Ma?” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he gave her a worried look. “You’ve lost too much weight already.”

“She looks pretty,” Sierra objected.

“I’m fine.” Changing the subject, she asked Jason to take Autumn upstairs and to awaken his grandmother. They had both fallen asleep on the couch in the living room.

Sierra closed her small hand over her mouth, chuckling. “Wouldn’t it be funny if Autumn peed on Granny?”

Ginger tore a piece of aluminum foil and wrapped the contents of the watermelon bowl. “I truly don’t think Granny would laugh. She’d probably whip her butt.”

Through the leaded windows, Ginger watched Jackson taking down the graduation banners taped to the front of the garage. She wondered where Mae Thelma had gone to. Sherry, LaWanda, and Katherine had done their best to make her feel uncomfortable during the party. Jackson was angry at all of them.

Ginger and Jackson hadn’t talked to each other during the entire night of the party. Their fight was a silent one. Yet there had been no malice in Ginger’s intentions. She simply invited her son’s father to his son’s graduation party. Jackson made her feel like it was a betrayal.

Later that night, when the last candle was blown out, single fragments of sand sluiced across the pavement, signifying that the evening was over. The party had been a huge success. But Ginger felt like a failure. She needed comfort from her husband. Wanted to empty the burden of the guilt that flooded her consciousness about the attempted rape. She wanted his love and understanding. She needed him to wrap his arms around her and say that everything would be all right.

Nearly an hour had passed since everyone left, and Jackson still hadn’t come inside. It was 3:00 A.M. Closing her eyes, Ginger tried to relax in a hot bath laced with jasmine oil. Then suddenly, her attempt at tranquillity reversed, she felt a tremoring sensation as if she were slipping down a smooth, irresistible current, and gravity was pulling her body down lower, lower. Soon the water covered her face, then suddenly darkened like ink. She was immersed in darkness. Alone. Isolated.

Frantically, she began kicking. Faster. Harder. Unbearable seconds passed. Her eyes squeezed shut tighter. She was afraid that if she opened them, it wouldn’t be just another bad dream. Water splattered onto the carpeting. Then it splashed across Ginger’s face, causing her to sit up abruptly.

The beating in her heart thumped loud. Her eyes opened wide. Suddenly she felt ice cold. Her teeth chattered as she reached for the bath towel. Slowly, her body crumpled to the floor. Her fingers felt the damp carpeting as she realized what had happened.

Somehow Ginger willed the courage to pray. During the past months she hadn’t opened her Bible. Had this rapist, who’d almost stripped her of her womanhood, also stripped her of her belief in God?

She prayed for her children. Prayed for Jackson. Prayed for her mother, her sisters, her brother. Prayed for Kim and Bill. There was even a small prayer to help her to forgive Mae Thelma. Ginger remembered the pastor saying that God portrays himself as standing outside the door of our hearts waiting to be invited in so that this sense of intimacy can be renewed.

He was close. She could feel the warmth — through her body. Ginger opened her heart, and said, “Please, help me, Lord. Please!”