“Where’s your overnight bag, Sierra?” Ginger demanded. She closed the second door in Sierra and Autumn’s walk-in closet.
Lord knows I don’t want to start another argument with this child today, thought Ginger. Nearly every time the kids left to visit their father, Sierra seemed to forget where she put her packed overnight bag. Ginger had bought Sierra at least twelve bags over the nine years since the divorce.
“I just had it, Mama.” As she sat on the bed trembling, Sierra’s small body was rigid. She hated these scenes of her mother’s.
Bulky sweaters, jogging suits, and caps of various sizes were strewn on the closet floor. Moments before they had been stacked neatly on the shelves above Ginger’s head. “Then where is it?” Ginger felt her forehead. Pain sliced through her temple. Placing her index finger and thumb over her closed eyelids, she leaned back against the wall.
Katherine stomped into the room, holding the bulging bag as evidence of their futile effort. “If you hadda stopped for a minute in the kitchen instead of running upstairs like a raging bull, I could have saved you the trouble of packing their bags.”
Ginger breathed a sigh of relief. Looking at her daughter’s eyes brimming with tears, Ginger was sorry she’d jumped to the conclusion that Sierra had left the bag in Port Huron.
For the past year, she and Sierra had been fighting like cats and dogs. Ginger didn’t know how to reach her anymore. Sierra possessed an angelic face and an itty-bitty body that made her look seven instead of ten. It surprised even Ginger how such an innocent-looking child could turn into a pint-sized she-devil when told to do something that she didn’t like.
The women at work had warned her that when their daughters reached the fifth grade, they entered a crisis stage that usually lasted until age twelve. The girls were going through a change of life, and it wasn’t easy on anyone.
She pressed Sierra’s sandy brown head to her bosom, rocking her back and forth, and told her she was sorry for hollering at her. Sierra’s large brown eyes widened with relief as she stared up into her mother’s face.
“Okay, let’s get the show on the road,” Katherine commanded. Steering her granddaughter from the room, she handed Sierra her blue overnight bag. “Granny starched and ironed all your clothes this morning. The only thing you have to do is pack your toothbrush. I didn’t know whose was which, so I left it out.” She smiled fondly at her grandchild and patted her on the butt.
Katherine sat on the edge of Autumn’s twin brass bed. Rolling her eyes at Ginger, she chastised her for constantly harping on Sierra. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. Everyone else can. You nag her for every little thing she does. Can’t you see how sensitive she is?”
Sitting herself on Sierra’s white eyelet comforter, Ginger crossed her arms and feet, and waited for the sermon she knew was coming. What her mother didn’t admit was that she’d done the same thing to her and Gwen when they were little. It wasn’t until a few years ago that Ginger and her mother had become good friends. Now, unwittingly, Ginger was following her pattern.
“I know I holler too much. I’m guilty, Mama.” She threw her hands in the air. “I just don’t have any patience with her. She tries my nerves.”
“You got a lot on your mind, Ginger. We’ll talk about it another time.” Katherine pounded from the room, all of her 180 pounds imprinting footsteps in the white carpeting.
Ginger knew that Sierra was struggling to find her place between Christian and Autumn. But she didn’t know how to help her. It didn’t help that both Christian and Autumn excelled in school while Sierra found every class a challenge. Thankfully Sierra and Autumn got along. In fact, they were crazy about each other. They rarely fought. Even wore each other’s clothes — Autumn being extremely tall for her age and Sierra tiny, and small boned. Sierra suggested they share a room together, which pleased Jackson more than Ginger. Jackson didn’t want his baby girl sleeping alone.
Ginger turned to admire her girls’ room; she’d redecorated it for them last year. Sierra and Autumn had been so excited about all the changes they could barely sleep for a week.
Thirty clerestory windows encircling the pie-shaped room made the glacier white paint gleam. Stenciled lavender irises bordered the ceiling. Each girl had an antique brass poster bed. Intricate patterns of lovebirds, elm leaves, and berries were woven into the foot- and headboards and romantic coverings of feathery white cutwork canopied the beds.
Two gold-filigreed pink-and-lavender Tiffany lamps adorned the mahogany nightstands. Handmade crocheted doilies danced in twelve sugar-stiffened layers around the center of the bureaus. Silk blossoms of white gardenias and lavender baby’s breath sat in hand-painted ceramic vases on the doilies.
It was a place of sweet repose, of sunshine-gilded daydreams tinged with a hint of mystery. A room fit for a princess. Why, then, didn’t her children act like the perfect little angels in the fairy tales?
Two porterhouse steaks sizzled in the iron skillet, smothered with sliced mushrooms and circles of Spanish onions. Steam billowed upward as Katherine checked the potatoes and onions simmering on the stove’s back eye.
Ginger and Autumn sat at the butcher block slicing fresh vegetables for the salad. Autumn dreaded the bimonthly visits her sister and brothers made to Port Huron with their father. Sierra had tried to explain to her that their mother had been married to Michael Carter before she married Jackson. But Autumn never quite understood about divorce. She only knew how sad she felt when they were gone. Sometimes she cried. That was when she’d go upstairs and talk to her doll, Suzy.
“Mama, when is Sierra coming home?” she asked her mother. She’d ask this question continuously until Sierra came home.
“Sunday. They’ll be home Sunday night, sweetheart.” Ginger took heed of her mother shaking her head as she bent over to check the steaks.
Katherine felt that Autumn should be allowed to go with the other children, but Jackson wouldn’t have it. Ginger wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Katherine hinted at Jackson a few times that Michael Carter had offered to take Autumn along for the weekends. Jackson was vehemently opposed to the idea. After a while, Katherine dropped the subject.
After dinner, Ginger and Katherine cleaned the kitchen together, while Autumn was mesmerized in front of the television with a Ninja Turtle video Ginger had rented. Making a quick stop at Blockbuster Video on her way home from the park, Ginger had picked out the latest videocassettes available for children. She had also grabbed boxes of Raisinets, Milk Duds, and microwave popcorn to keep Autumn busy after the kids had gone.
She always planned something special to do on those Saturdays with Autumn while the others were away. Just the two of them. Sometimes Jackson would come along, but rarely could she convince him to take a few hours away from his marathon of Westerns.
“Just tell me what you plan on doing about keeping this house clean. You’re not going to have time to clean this house working in the plant and working at the office part time.” Katherine thought for a moment. “How many times a week did you say you had to be in the real estate office?”
“At least four times a week — put in two or three hours. After I’m established I won’t have to go in so much. I can do more from home. They want to see that I’m serious about working there. They’ve trained so many people who have quit after they hadn’t made a sale in a month or two.” Ginger sighed. “I know it’s not going to be easy. But I can do it, Mama. I know I can.”
“You listen to me, and you listen to me good.” Katherine closed the dishwasher and took a seat at the breakfast room table. Ginger joined her after putting away the scoured skillets in the pantry. “You got good sense, but you don’t use it. You need someone to come in every two weeks and clean this big-ass house. I hope you don’t think these kids are going to clean it right without you supervising them?”
Ginger folded her hands on the table. “I already asked Jackson about getting someone —”
“Asked?” her mother shouted. “You don’t ask, you tell. Are you out of your friggin’ mind?” Katherine walked to the refrigerator and came back with a tall glass of beer. After a long cold swallow she added, “That may be a slow-walking back-hill Mississippi son of a bitch, but you better believe his mind clicks as quick as a Bic.” She took another sip. “Don’t tell me. He said no.” Ginger nodded, her eyes focusing on Autumn’s gym shoes near the credenza.
Katherine got up from her chair, nursing her beer, and strode to look out the window. She shifted her weight to her right hip, and continued speaking with her back turned. “He wants to tie you down at home, so you won’t have the energy or wherewithal to succeed at anything, so you’ll just accept what he expects you to be: a factory worker, mother, and wife.”
“He wants me to quit the plant,” Ginger challenged, half believing it herself. “He just doesn’t want some strange person in here cleaning our home.”
“Bullshit. They have bonded maid services. You don’t have to worry about anybody stealing anything.” Two of her other daughters who lived out of state and worked full time had gotten cleaning women years ago. Not wanting to hurt Ginger’s feelings, Katherine had never mentioned it; neither had her daughters.
The sound of the phone ringing cut off Ginger’s reply. “Mama, will you hang up the phone when I get upstairs, please?” Katherine glared at her, knowing who was on the other line.
Ginger took several deep breaths before leaping into a cheerful conversation with her husband. Why did her mother always try to make her feel so guilty about loving her husband? Was she weak to give in to some of his demands? Or was her mother jealous because she didn’t have a man to go home to?
“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered.
* * *
Shaking the snow from her purple leather coat, Kim stood at the front door. Katherine grabbed her arm and led her into the living room. She pressed a finger to her lips, begging silence, then turned on the stereo and sat down to chat with her niece.
“Every time I come over, she’s either ironing his shirts, matching up his clothes for work, fixing his plate, taking his shoes to the shop to get them polished, and anything else she can think of that he needs. She does too much for that man. The only thing he does for himself is to take a piss.” Kim leaned over toward Katherine, glancing at the doorway. “And sometimes she even holds that for him, after they’d had sex, because he’s soooooooo tired.”
Katherine shook her head and, following Kim’s lead, checked for a spying figure lurking in the doorway. “I’m always telling her she do too much for Jackson. But she gets mad. I think she thinks I’m jealous. So lately I haven’t been saying anything. When she starts selling real estate next month, she won’t have no time to baby-sit him. All hell’s gonna break loose in this house. She loves that man so much, I bet every time she looks in the mirror, she sees his face.”
Walking down the circular staircase, Ginger thought about the conversation she’d just had with Jackson. After listening to her pleas and arguments about their needing a cleaning woman, he’d still held fast to his original decision: “No way.”
She had hoped that under the circumstances, with him missing her and their being apart, he’d be more reasonable.
Ginger respected his judgment, and his knowledge of the world, the world Ginger had been sheltered from by her first husband. Jackson possessed something . . . something she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that was missing inside her. Was it patience? Yes. But that wasn’t it. Was it his ability to size up any situation and make the correct decision? Yes. But that wasn’t it either. He possessed a certain something that she admired and strove to call her own, but yet she couldn’t quite put it into words. It was . . . it was . . . maturity.
Overhearing fragments of Kim and Katherine’s conversation caused Ginger to hesitate, cringing, before entering the living room.
“These young women today are frantic for a man’s company. Marry the first man that asks ’em. Claim it’s not just sexual; they need a man to talk to. Child, you can call directory assistance and talk to a man. Just ’cause you got a huuuuuuuusband don’t mean diddly shit. That’s your man today —”
“. . . and some other bitch’s tomorrow,” said Ginger, casually walking into the room. “That’s the correct phrase, isn’t it, Mother?” She saw the frown on her mother’s face, smiled, and sat next to Kim. “I thought I heard the doorbell while I was on the phone. How long you been here?”
Kim looked guiltily at Ginger, then at Katherine. Ginger didn’t miss the connection. They’d been discussing her. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have their own problems to talk about. As a matter of fact, Aunt Jewel had called her the other day while Katherine was at the store stocking up on beer. Evidently, her mother had told Aunt Jewel that she was in the market for a man.
“Just got here a few minutes ago. I’m on my way downtown. Would you care to join me?”
“Can I go where?” Ginger asked in a nonchalant tone.
Kim crossed her legs, baring yards of skin beneath her royal blue suede miniskirt. “I’d like you to come with me to a club in Greek Town, now. Can you go?” It was as much of a challenge as it was a question, Ginger felt.
She swallowed hard. Jackson would shit bricks if he knew she’d gone out with Kim, whom he called “hotter than a bitch in heat.” “Sure. I have to change.”
Knowing Ginger would be a while, Katherine continued her conversation. She was feeling kind of mellow. “Sometimes the only thing worse than not getting your wish is getting it. Ginger wanted that man, and now she got him.” She sat on the pink chaise across from Kim, scooted back, rocking a large thigh back and forth.
Kim crossed her bare legs and puffed on a Kool Light, letting the billowing smoke curdle through her nose, inhaling, then softly blowing it out. She wondered if possibly she and Aunt Katherine weren’t just a tad bit jealous. After all, she and Bill were a long way off from making a commitment. And if he ever found out about her boss . . .
“Did I ever tell you about a man I was having an affair with while I was married to your Uncle Lewis?” Kim’s eyes bucked. Shaking her head, she urged her aunt to continue.