Damsels In Distress
by
Nikita Lynnette Nichols
Chapter 1
It was a late Saturday evening in April when twenty-seven-year-old Ginger Brown modeled a royal-blue, two-piece satin suit as her best friends, Portia Dunn and Celeste Harper, encouraged her to sashay and turn, then turn and sashay again. Ginger had recently bought the suit at Macy’s to wear to church on Sunday. It was Women’s Day and Ginger was looking forward to emceeing the afternoon service.
Portia and Celeste were seated on opposite ivory lounge chaise chairs in Ginger’s immaculate living room in the city of Westchester, a small suburb just west of Chicago.
The thirty-two-inch space between the women that were seated served as a catwalk for Ginger to strut.
“All right, Ginger, girl, show us what you’re working with,” Celeste encouraged.
Ginger unbuttoned the jacket, slipped it off her arms, then swung it over her left shoulder to reveal the silver-gray satin camisole she wore underneath. Gracefully, she turned away from Portia and Celeste, then strutted back to her starting point just at the archway that separated the living room from the dining room.
As Ginger walked, Portia’s smile quickly faded when she noticed black and blue bruises on Ginger’s right shoulder next to the spaghetti strap of her camisole. She sat straight up in the chaise chair. “Ginger, what the heck is that on your shoulder?” Portia’s outburst startled both Ginger and Celeste.
Ginger had no clue the boxing match from the previous night with her live-in boyfriend was evident. She was usually careful not to allow any bruises to show. Had she known the marks were visible, Ginger never would’ve taken off her jacket.
“Oh, girl, it’s nothing,” she said, quickly putting the jacket back on. “Ronald got a little high last night. Y’all know how he gets.” Ginger’s poor excuse for being a punching bag was for her own benefit. Truth be told, she was quite embarrassed. How could she have been so careless and allow anyone to see the bruises?
When Ronald came home the evening before with his eyes glazed, Ginger knew he had brought trouble home with him. She was in the kitchen, standing at the stove, frying pork chops.
He approached Ginger reeking of marijuana and lifted the lid of a pot that sat on the stove. “What is this?” he asked. His voice was almost a whisper.
Nothing infuriated Ginger more than when Ronald asked her a question that he already knew the answer to. Anyone in their right mind could see that the pot was half filled with white rice. Evidently smoking weed had taken Ronald’s common sense away.
Ginger exhaled a loud sigh of frustration. She hated when he asked stupid questions.
“It’s rice, Ron. I’m gonna make gravy to go with it.”
Ronald placed the lid back on the pot, then turned to walk away. Ginger thought the conversation was over but was mistaken as Ronald spun back around. He slammed his open palm against Ginger’s face and with all the strength he had, he pushed her backward. He sent her flying down, but on the way to the floor, Ginger’s right shoulder connected with the edge of the marble-top kitchen table. She screamed out in pain.
“Who the *%# @ are you huffin’ and puffin’ at, huh?” Ronald stood over Ginger glaring down at her. He drew his leg back in preparation to kick Ginger in her abdomen but stopped short. “I told you about catching an attitude every time I ask you a question.”
Ginger lay on the kitchen floor moaning and wincing in pain. Her right shoulder was on fire.
“I don’t want rice and gravy. Throw that crap out and make me some corn.” With that being said, Ronald exited the kitchen.
Now Ginger stood in the living room having to defend the cause for the bruises to her friends. Celeste stood, went to Ginger, and forcefully pulled the jacket off her shoulders to get an up close and personal look at the marks. Portia came and stood next to Celeste. The bruises were blue, black, and purple.
It wasn’t the first, second, or third time Celeste and Portia witnessed bruises on Ginger. They’ve been begging Ginger to end her abusive relationship with Ronald ever since she moved him into her home three years ago.
Last month, Ginger showed up at church with a swollen busted lip that she tried to hide with lipstick. Portia and Celeste were so angry that they wanted to go to Ginger’s house and confront Ronald, but just like all the times before, Ginger had begged them not to interfere. Now the three best friends stood in Ginger’s living room facing the issue again for what seemed like the one-hundredth time.
“Is that fool still pounding on you, Ginger?” Celeste asked.
Ginger’s heart raced as tears began to run down her chocolate-colored face. “Celeste, please understand,” she pleaded.
Portia frowned. “Understand what, Ginger? That fool is out of control, and you need to get away from him.”
“I’m calling the police.” Celeste returned to her chair for her purse. Her cell phone was inside.
Ginger was quickly on Celeste’s heels. As soon as Celeste pulled her phone from her purse, Ginger snatched it out of her hand. “No, Celeste.”
Celeste placed her right hand on her hip and shifted all of her weight onto one leg.
“No? What the heck do you mean ‘no’? Ronald needs to be locked up, and you need to be institutionalized for allowing him to beat on you.”
By the expression on Ginger’s face, Portia knew Celeste’s words had hurt her.
Celeste had basically accused Ginger of being crazy.
Portia came and stood next to Ginger. “Celeste, I know you’re upset but—”
“Upset?” Celeste had cut Portia’s words off. “Furious is what I am, Portia. And why are you so doggone calm about this? We’ve been dealing with this crap for three years. Did you get a good look at her back?”
Ginger placed her face in her hands and cried. Not only was she embarrassed, but if a call was made to the police and Ronald found out about it, Ginger knew she’d be in even more trouble with him.
Portia wrapped her arms around Ginger. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re gonna get through this. We’ll work it out.”
Celeste couldn’t comprehend Portia’s attitude about the situation Ginger was in.
“How do you suppose we ‘work this out,’ Portia? Huh?”
Portia guided Ginger to a chair and sat her down. “I don’t know, Celeste. Let’s talk about it.”
In Celeste’s mind, talking wasn’t necessary. She hastily left the living room and walked toward Ginger’s bedroom. “Yeah, okay. You and Ginger talk. I know what I’m gonna do.”
In Ginger’s bedroom, Celeste opened the closet door. She found a small suitcase and threw it on the bed. Next, she snatched blouses, dresses, and pants off of racks and threw them on top of the suitcase. Ginger and Portia came into the bedroom and saw Celeste on a rampage. Just as Celeste was headed for the dresser, Ginger ran and stood in between it and her friend.
“What are you doing, Celeste?” Ginger asked her.
“I’m helping you get through this. That’s what I’m doing. Get out of my way.”
More tears ran down Ginger’s face. “Ron apologized. He promised to never hit me again.”
“That’s what he said the last time, and the time before that, Ginger,” Portia interjected from the doorway. “When are you gonna learn that Ronald is sick?”
Ginger looked at her best friends through teary eyes. “Y’all just don’t understand. He told me ...” She couldn’t finish her sentence as she choked back tears.
Celeste placed her hands on her hips again. “He told you what?”
Ginger knew that if she revealed what Ronald had told her years ago, all heck would break loose. She hesitated. She wondered how she could pacify this situation and calm Portia and Celeste down.
“He told you what?” Celeste’s outburst startled Ginger.
Ginger opened her mouth and spoke softly. She looked into Portia’s eyes because she didn’t want to see the expression on Celeste’s face. “Ron once told me that he’d
kill me if I ever left him.”
Both Celeste’s and Portia’s eyes grew wide. “What?” they screamed at the same time.
Celeste became enraged. She was even more eager to pack Ginger’s clothes and get her out of that house. “Move out of my way, Ginger.”
Ginger pleaded with Celeste to calm down. “Celeste, please understand.”
“Why do you keep saying that, Ginger? What is it that you want us to understand? You ain’t married to that fool. Ron won’t even give you his last name. He’s too darn lazy to get a job. All he does is smoke weed all day. He’s living in your house while you go to work every day. You pay the mortgage, utilities, and you buy the groceries. Ron has you so twisted that he makes you ask his permission to go to church. Plus he’s ugly. I don’t see how you can stand to look at him let alone sleep with him. You deserve better, Ginger. So, since you don’t have enough brains to pack your bags, I’m gonna do it for you.” Celeste pushed Ginger aside and opened the top dresser drawer, then grabbed a handful of bras and panties and threw them on the bed.
Ginger grabbed her underwear from the bed and brought them back to the dresser.
“Stop it, Celeste.”
Celeste ignored Ginger and proceeded to another drawer. She grabbed another handful of clothes and took them to the bed. On her second trip, she looked at Portia standing in the bedroom doorway. “What the heck are you just standing there for? You should be helping me.”
Portia didn’t move. She was torn. She knew Celeste was doing the right thing by packing Ginger’s clothes, and of course she should be helping Celeste. But Ginger just said that Ronald would kill her if she left him.
Portia watched as Celeste transferred clothes from the dresser to the suitcase; then she watched Ginger transfer clothes from the suitcase back to the dresser. Portia knew Celeste was out of control, but then again, enough was enough.
Ginger was crying and begging Celeste to stop trying to pack her clothes.
Celeste forcefully took the clothes from her hand and looked at her. “Look, Ginger, I’m sick of this crap. Now, either we pack your clothes and you come home with me, or we pack Ron’s clothes and put them out on the curb. One of you is getting the heck out of here tonight. Now, since this is your house, I’ll let you decide. Because if he touches you again, I’m gonna pay somebody to touch him. So, who’s leaving—you or Ron?”
Ginger didn’t answer Celeste. She stood in the middle of her bedroom crying.
Celeste waited five seconds, then threw the clothes on top of the suitcase and walked to the dresser to grab more. Ginger reached out to try to stop Celeste but lost her balance and fell. She managed to grab a hold of Celeste’s left leg. Celeste stumbled but was able to deliver the suitcase’s deposit. Ginger begged and cried for Celeste to stop packing her clothes. “Celeste, please. Please, Celeste.”
Celeste dragged Ginger from the dresser to the bed as she continued to pack her clothes. “Portia, get her off of me.”
Portia had a decision to make. She could only pray that Ginger would eventually forgive her and Celeste for doing what had to be done. She went to Ginger and pulled her arms from around Celeste’s legs. “Ginger, we gotta do this.”
Ginger stopped fighting. She knew that her friends were relentless, and they were not going to let her stay in her home as long as Ronald resided there also. But Ginger also knew that she needed to come up with a plan to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald got home. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go to the police station.” She told them what they wanted to hear.
Portia released Ginger’s arms. “You will?”
“Now you’re talking like you got some common sense,” Celeste said.
“Get your big butt off of me, Portia.”
Portia stood, and so did Ginger.
Celeste grabbed a suitcase by the handle and instructed Ginger and Portia to take one each. “Ginger, you’re coming home with me after we leave the police station.”
“Okay.” Ginger didn’t argue. She wanted them to leave. She had a plan.
Celeste, Ginger, and Portia rode in silence to the police station. It was when Celeste drove into a parking spot that Ginger said from the backseat, “I’m not doing it.”
Both Portia and Celeste turned around and looked at her.
Celeste was furious. “What the heck you mean you’re not doing it?”
Ginger turned away from her friends and looked out the window. “I changed my mind.”
“Now what?” Portia asked Celeste.
Without a word, Celeste removed her key from the ignition. “I’ll be right back.” She opened the door and got out of the car. After she shut the door, she pressed a button on her remote. The feature that Celeste had on her car was the same feature that the police use as car bait. Once a button is pressed on the remote, the car can’t be opened from the inside. Because the windows were raised, Celeste couldn’t hear the foul names Ginger called her as she ran inside the police station.
Two minutes later, Celeste returned to her car with an African American woman, Officer Phyore Montgomery.
Celeste pressed the button on her remote again and opened the passenger door.
“Ginger is the one sitting in the backseat.”
Officer Montgomery knelt and looked in the backseat. She asked Portia to get out of the car. With Portia out of the way, Officer Montgomery sat in the front passenger seat and faced Ginger. “Are you Ginger Brown?”
Ginger sat in the backseat with her mouth shut.
“I’m Officer Montgomery. I’m here to help you. Have you been abused?”
Not a word from Ginger. Celeste stuck her head inside the car. “Open your darn mouth, Ginger.”
Officer Montgomery patted Celeste’s arm. “Mrs. Harper, please calm down. Give her time.”
Celeste rolled her eyes at Ginger and walked away.
Officer Montgomery saw tears streaming down Ginger’s face. “Miss Brown, I’ve been on the force for twelve years. I’ve dealt with all kinds of abuse. Nine times out of ten, domestic abuse turns into murder because the victim is too afraid to report it. Your friends brought you here because they love you and want to help you.”
Ginger looked through the glass and saw Portia and Celeste glaring at her. “They kidnapped me. Isn’t that a crime? Can I file charges against them for bringing me here against my will?” Ginger had just lied to Officer Montgomery. Back at her house she had agreed to come to the police station just to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald got home.
Officer Montgomery had already gotten the full story from Celeste why she and Portia had brought Ginger to the police station. “They brought you here to save your life.”
Officer Montgomery didn’t even entertain the thought of allowing Ginger to press charges against her best friends. “Have you been abused?” she asked Ginger again.
Ginger turned her head in the opposite direction. Tears ran down her face, but she refused to answer the question.
“Miss Brown, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Officer Montgomery said.
“Mrs. Harper said that your boyfriend threatened to kill you if you told. Is that true? Because if it is, I will personally see to it that you’re placed in protective custody. We can have him picked up tonight.”
Nothing from Ginger.
Portia became frustrated. “Ginger, tell her about the time when you were five months pregnant and Ron kicked you in the stomach. That caused you to miscarry.”
Officer Montgomery’s mouth fell open. “Is that true?” she asked Ginger.
A tear dripped from Ginger’s chin.
Officer Montgomery pled with her. “The only way to stop this is to press charges. If you don’t press charges, it won’t stop. He’s not worth your life. I know you’re afraid, but you have to admit to me that he put his hands on you.”
Ginger focused on someone walking across the street. Officer Montgomery sat in silence for a few seconds. “You are a beautiful black woman. Learn to love yourself. It hurt
s me deeply to get called to a house because of domestic abuse and find one of my black sisters dead. And I’m gonna tell you something, Miss Brown. Eventually he will kill you. It happens like that all the time. So, get out while you can.”
Officer Montgomery waited another few seconds for Ginger to confess that she was being abused, then got out of the car and looked at Portia and Celeste. “I can’t do anything without a complaint from her.”
That didn’t please Portia. “This is bull crap. Look at her shoulder.”
“I understand, but I can’t make an arrest unless she files a formal complaint.”
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Celeste asked.
Officer Montgomery shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Miss Brown has to help herself first.”
“But what if we say that we actually saw her boyfriend hit her?” asked Portia.
Officer Montgomery sighed. She understood Portia and Celeste’s frustration, but she couldn’t take a false statement. Neither of them had actually seen Ronald put his hands on Ginger. They’d only seen the marks he left behind.
“If Miss Brown is not willing to file a complaint, according to the law, to heck with what anyone else says.”
Celeste stormed around to the driver’s door, got in, and slammed the door. Portia sat in the passenger seat. Officer Montgomery watched Celeste’s tires burn rubber as she pulled away from the curb.
Celeste drove back to Ginger’s house so that Portia could get her car. She pulled into the driveway and parked next to Ronald’s car. “The fool is home. Hurry up and get out, Portia.”
Ginger yelled from the backseat. “Let me out, Celeste.” She knew Celeste was gonna try to take her home with her.
“No!”
Portia looked at her friend. “Celeste, Ginger is a grown woman. We can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. Look what just happened at the police station.”
“I don’t care. If you hurry up and get out, I can drive off.”
Ginger yelled again. “Celeste, I wanna get out of this car.”
Celeste switched the gear to park, took her foot off the brake pedal, then turned her upper torso around to face Ginger. “You know that if you go in there with your bags, Ron’s gonna go off.”
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