Knowing (39 page)

The other officer poked his head in, unstrapped Ginger, and guided her in a gentlemanly fashion to the backseat of the squad car. When all three were seated in their squad car, the first officer told her, “It’s procedure to take a police report.” In an effort to reassure her, he added, “You’ll need it for your insurance company.”

They offered to drive Ginger home, and she readily accepted. She couldn’t have prayed for a better alibi to substantiate her story than two concerned police officers safely seeing her home.

As they headed east toward Palmer Woods, Ginger decided never to tell anyone about the attempted rape. Especially Jackson. He’d make her quit. She refused to let one out-of-control client destroy her dreams. Even if it meant carrying around so much guilt.

Fingertips

Nightly, Ginger tumbled wildly in her sleep, resting only when Jackson awakened and held her close in his arms. It was like turning an old movie reel; over and over again, she played the scene with Mr. Deiter in her mind. What could she have done? How could she have prevented it from happening? She wanted to place the blame on someone. Something. Prayer hadn’t done any good. It was as if God had temporarily turned his back on her. In her heart she knew that the power of God within was greater than the pressure of the troubles around her. Yet, somehow, that knowledge couldn’t comfort her.

When, only days after the incident, Ginger found another note from Jason’s night-school teacher hidden in his shoe, she was in no condition to react calmly.

Ranting and raving as she ushered him downstairs, she cursed Jason for lying. Cursed him for not being honest about his grades and truancy. Ginger’s hands shook uncontrollably. She felt as if all of her strength were crumbling.

Jason sat on the sofa quietly, until she had vented most of her anger. He wasn’t used to seeing his mother so out of control.

“Why don’t you listen to me sometimes, instead of hollerin’ all the time?” Jason asked. He lowered his head as he whispered the words he later wished he could have called back. “You love Christian to death. You don’t love me.”

Anger filled Ginger’s voice. “What did you say?”

“You don’t love me.” His voice began to swell with conviction. “You don’t even try to understand me when I tell you I need to talk.” Tears welled in his eyes. “You’re always so busy, yet you seem to always find time for Christian when he asks.”

Ginger put her arms around her eldest son and held him. Tight. Tears of pain streamed from her eyes. There was no denying it — the truth in his words. “I do love you, Jason. Talk to me. Make me understand.”

His large hands cupped the invisible air as Jason and Ginger sat on his bed, side by side, both needy in their own right. Both needing comforting. Both wanting to reach out and touch, to touch an emotion and hold on to it, and just feel . . . feel the comfort, feel the love, feel the understanding.

The music played low on his stereo, while outside the spring winds gave a frustrated howl, stroking barren branches along the window pane. Jason paused, and looked deep into his mother’s solemn eyes. He said, as painlessly as he could, “I miss my family, Mama. The one I grew up with . . . with Daddy.”

Ginger turned her head to shield the pain that penetrated her body like cancer. She’d known it would come to this. Jackson was an okay stepfather, but he saved most of his fatherly affection for Autumn. She’d seen the hurt in her boys’ eyes more than once, and chosen to ignore it rather than confront it. Yet she’d known all along how deeply Jason felt about his own father, Michael Carter, and truly there is no substitute for a man who unconditionally loves his
own
son.

“I haven’t spent much time with Daddy since I’ve been working.” His pause was longer this time. “Sierra and Christian go to Port Huron every other weekend. They see Daddy all the time.” His voice quivered as he uttered his emotional stance. “I love him too, Mama. Can’t he make time for me, sometimes? I’m his oldest son.” Tears streamed freely down her son’s handsome face.

Brushing away his tears with her fingertips, Ginger said, “Your daddy loves you, Dink. Just as much as the rest of the kids. I’m sure he thought that giving you your space as a teenager meant more to you than spending weekends with him.”

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 color 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.