He made another effort to stifle an argument. Sitting beside her, he caressed her chin. “I didn’t mean it that way, honey. Forgive me.” He kissed her lovingly on the mouth. “I’m an old-fashioned man who wants his woman at home.”
Noticing his apologetic mood, she tried a different strategy.
“Jackson, I’m not going to spend any money. I’ve found something that I’d be good at and enjoy doing without spending a dime.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Selling real estate. You know how much I know about and love homes. I’ve been to every model home in the tricounty area. There’s nothing I don’t know—”
“Ginger!” His voice deepened to a deadly tone. “I said, I want you at home.”
She turned her head shamefully. “It sounds like you want to own me — like a piece of furniture.”
“It sounds like commitment to me.”
“I can’t for the life of me believe you would want your wife to work like a dog in that factory for thirteen more years. I can’t believe that you won’t encourage me to get out of that prison.”
“Grow up, the pension you would get in thirteen years is worth it!” he said.
The thought of thirteen more years confined in that gray cement barrack sickened her. How could he be so insensitive? “I want something better for the rest of my life, Jackson.”
He looked around in their huge bedroom suite, sweeping his arms wide. “You’ve got one of the most beautiful homes in the subdivision.”
She stood erect, as her eyes held his. “I want a career. I want to get into real estate.”
“No. I told you, I want you at home. Not off running around all over town with every Tom, Dick, or Harry. My wife belongs at home with her family in the evenings. Not off showing houses. You know how I feel! Give up this idea, Ginger.”
“What? Is this an ultimatum? I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it!” He walked out the door and slammed it behind him.
Returning to the bathroom, Ginger sat on the edge of the tub, feeling the cold porcelain against her buttocks, then leaned over to refill the cool tub with steaming hot water. Dozens of jasmine-scented bubbled lined the edge of the water.
Was he testing her love for him? Why did he feel he needed to have so much control? How much could she give without exhausting herself? Wasn’t she allowed to have a dream or two of her own? Or was she, as a woman, obliged to give, give, give, and that was to be her reward? Was it wrong for her to aspire to be that other person she saw at the end of her rainbow?
Was it too much to ask to feel that she was someone beyond her family?
Sipping on a frosted glass of Colt 45, Katherine Lee surveyed her work. She’d just completed the task of polishing the brass ornaments in her living room. Nancy Wilson’s melodic voice filled the room like warm caramel, lazy and sweet, skipping over verbs every now and then because they were too much trouble to bother with.
Aggravated by the unwelcome ring of the phone interrupting her reverie, she snapped, “Hello.” She drained the beer, and wiped away a foamy mustache with her sleeve.
“Mama. I need to talk to you. Are you busy?”
From the tone of her daughter’s voice Katherine knew that Ginger had just finished another argument with Jackson. “No. What’s the problem, sweetheart?” One of these days her daughter was going to learn how to handle that man. Katherine had learned early on how to handle hers. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two before she’d learned all the ropes. But here Ginger was approaching forty and still hadn’t learned. Well, she thought. Another lesson. Another day. Maybe Kim could talk some sense into her. Sometimes her niece acted more like her than her own daughter did.
“Not what is the problem. But who is the problem? I think you already know the answer to that, and that bastard has really pissed me off this time!” Ginger said scornfully. “I’ve finally figured out how to get out of that plant, and I thought Jackson was going to be so happy about my decision. But was he? Oh no. Not my loving husband.”
“Ginger, you know how Jackson is. He tells you he wants you to quit, but he doesn’t really mean it. That man wants you in that plant every day so he can keep an eye on you. You couldn’t pay me to work around my man every day. Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re gonna say. He’s in the office. You don’t see him all day long. But the point is, you see too much of each other. Two hours on the road every day and eight hours in the plant. It’s too close.”
“I know, Mama. The whole situation is becoming almost unbearable.” Ginger thought for a moment. “Mama. You remember the last time Gwen was here, and she told me that she thought that I’d make a good real estate agent. And that if I ever took the time and thought about it seriously, I’d come to the same conclusion?”
“Yeah, I remember. That was a few years ago.”
“I never forgot what she said. As a matter of fact I went to talk to a broker. I had an interview last week. I didn’t tell Jackson. I just went.”
“Cut the bullshit. What happened?” Katherine poured herself another tall glass of beer and sat back in her chair, relaxing, smiling to herself.
Ginger sighed. “They were very interested in adding a female to the staff. Especially a Black one. But he didn’t say that, and he didn’t have to. One glance around the office, and I knew what I would be. A token. But so what? I don’t have a problem with that. The point is, I signed up for the classes, and they start next week. But . . .”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Jackson. I didn’t even get to tell him about the classes. He told me it was out of the question, and to forget it. His wife wasn’t going to be running all over the city of Detroit.”
“And you’re surprised?”
“Yes and no. I thought he would be more worried about me spending money, but he didn’t mention it. Anyway, the training and license fees are under a hundred bucks. Forty hours of training is required before taking your test. I’ll have that completed in less than three weeks, and I can start working immediately after that. I’ve discussed it with Kim, and she thinks it’s a good choice too. And you know how independent she is.”
Slow down, Ginger. You’re going too fast, thought Katherine. Out loud, she said, “I love this idea, I think it’s the best one you’ve had yet. But the point is, what are you planning on doing about Jackson? You knew he was selfish before you married him. I doubt seriously if he’s planning on changing anytime soon. So what’s it gonna be? It’s getting a little late in the season for you to keep changing careers. I’m concerned more about my grandchildren. Have you thought about the time you’d be spending away from them?”
“Yes, Mama. I’ve thought about a lot of things. Namely me. I’ve made the kids, Jackson, and the plant my whole life. I think it’s about time I started thinking about what’s really going to make me happy, before I get too old, and too tired to do anything about it. I made a mistake ever going to that plant, and if it takes the last breath I have, I’m gonna get out of there. I’m giving myself two years, and if selling real estate doesn’t work out, I’ll stick it out at the plant ’til retirement. But if everything works out like I think it will, the kids and Jackson will benefit in the long run, with me being able to be there in the mornings before they leave for school. I hate calling them every morning doling out instructions that they half-listen to, and coming home to see Sierra’s changed her clothes from what I had laid out for her. Lord knows what her teacher thinks about me, allowing my daughter to dress like that. And —”
“Don’t worry about Sierra’s teacher. I’m sure they know you work. More importantly, what are you going to do about Jackson? I’m gonna tell you something about a man and a woman, and I want you to listen. You pay attention to what I’m trying to tell you, because I’m not going to repeat it again. It’s time you grew up and faced some facts about marriage.”
“I’m listening, Mama.”
“You know what this universe is all about?” After hearing a hesitant yes, she continued. “It’s about love and sharing. Selfishness, holding on to something . . . that’s just a waste of time. It’s about taking care of your man and him taking care of you — in a good relationship, the kind that lasts and stands the test of time. But . . . never, and I mean never, tell a man exactly what’s on your mind. Then he knows how to play you. The name of the game is how good you can play.”
“But I don’t want to play any games.”
Katherine let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Just listen to what I’m telling you. Games between a man and woman have been played and won since the beginning of time. And any woman with any kind of sense has found that out already. That’s why those women take separate vacations and go out and have a fling to make them feel good about themselves. Not just to have sex with another man. Occasionally they do, but the main purpose is to build up their self-esteem and self-worth so that they can deal with that bastard they’re married to when they get back.
“You’ve got to learn to cope with Jackson, and still make yourself happy. Everybody who loves you knows how intelligent you are. How talented you are. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Don’t seek Jackson’s approval in everything that you do, because you’re not gonna get it. And quite frankly, you don’t need it. If you plan on quitting work, and changing your lifestyle, I’m all for it. You know how I hate you working in that factory. But try to be more consistent for the kids’ sake, and stick to it this time. You won’t get too many more chances.
“You can do this. I know you can. But, don’t just do it. Be the best you can be. You have to want it more than anything else, because when panic steps in — and you know it will — you’ll need to be focused. If you can believe in yourself, no one can take that from you. It’s something you have to know about yourself, and not have to be told. You wear it like armor.
“Something has to keep you going, something deep within you, and it’ll carry you further than talent ever will. Talent gets you to the top, but character keeps you there. You have to have guts. That’s what’ll keep you going.”
“I’ve got guts, Mama.”
“You’re gonna need ’em. Sounds to me like you’ve made some decisions.”
“I have,” said Ginger matter-of-factly.
“Which are?” Please let this child have the good sense to know she doesn’t need Jackson’s approval. He’d end up giving in eventually to anything she asks for. He always has, and probably always will, just like most other men who truly love their women, Katherine prayed silently.
“Century Twenty-one will see me promptly next Wednesday, come hell or high water.”
Yes, God did answer prayers. Katherine Lee beamed.
Katherine didn’t want to hurt Ginger’s feelings by saying that if that bastard was working his ass off sitting at a sewing machine eight to ten hours a day like she did, instead of relaxing in an air-conditioned office, he’d be a little more understanding. Katherine couldn’t stand the fact that a child of hers was working in a factory. She didn’t raise Ginger to be anyone’s slave, not even Jackson’s.
Katherine had cried when Ginger told her that she was quitting her keypunching job at Michigan Bell Telephone to go to work for Champion Motors. They were hiring three hundred sewing machine operators, and she planned on being one of them. Katherine had taught all four of her daughters to sew. Ginger had even designed her own clothes, and tailored men’s suits. Ginger told her mother that she knew she wouldn’t have any trouble passing the sewing test.
After working several years in the plant, Ginger finally understood why her mother had cried. Katherine had known that Ginger would get so comfortable with the money that she would never leave to venture out on her own.
Katherine knew, as Ginger would come to know, that many factory workers have bachelor’s and master’s degrees, and some even boast Ph.D.s. The fast money, large checks — these were the trump cards that kept most people there, eventually destroying their desires for a job more suited to their qualifications.
Katherine had insisted that she’d suffered too hard and too long for a child of hers to give in to a slavish form of employment. She’d taught all five of her children that education was the key to success. She had demanded excellence, knowing what each of them was capable of, and wouldn’t accept anything less.
Katherine had been taught by her own mother the importance of education for women. The school system had it backwards. They felt that male children deserved the right to an education before their female counterparts, that one day, those young men would become senators, governors, or presidents, the leaders of our nation. Now women aspired to those same goals.
Katherine had often explained to her daughters, “If you teach a man, you teach one man, if you teach a woman, you teach a nation.”
Katherine had instilled confidence in them as well as the fear of not performing; letting them know that though they’d be punished if they didn’t live up to her standards, she believed in their abilities. Hailed as the Jackson Five of Port Huron, they had danced to the tune of academic excellence for their exacting mother.
Katherine had known that Ginger was gifted, and wouldn’t be satisfied with her immature decision to work in a factory. She couldn’t understand why Ginger hadn’t realized this earlier.
Even though Ginger’s salary was double what she had made keypunching at Bell, she’d admitted to Katherine that her primary motivation was to build a new home with the exorbitant overtime pay she made. Eighty to a hundred hours a week — Lord have mercy, she’d build a castle.
Years later, after living in and loving her new home, Ginger realized that she’d made a mistake. The twelve-hundred-dollar checks didn’t seem to silence that inner voice crying out for release:
Listen . . . Listen to your dreams! You can be anything you want to be in life
.
Katherine’s other four children had taken the time to attend college, doing without the amenities that had so enslaved Ginger.
Ginger had thought that she was ahead of the game by acquiring all the trappings of the middle class — until she figured out that she
was
indeed trapped. The new home (yes, she’d finally managed to build her dream home in 1979), the cars, elegant furnishings, money in the bank. How sad. To allow herself to think that possessions would fill the void in her life. Personal satisfaction. Self-expression. Doing what you loved to do for a living, instead of what you
have
to do. Allowing yourself to grow personally. That was what was important, she’d humbly admitted to her mother. But though she talked about it more and more, she had not yet succeeded in breaking away.