Not a word from Ginger. What kind of name is Phyore? she wondered.
Celeste stuck her head inside the car. “Open your darn mouth, Ginger.”
Sergeant Montgomery patted Celeste’s arm. “Mrs. Harper, please calm down. Give her time.”
Celeste rolled her eyes at Ginger and walked away.
Sergeant Montgomery saw tears streaming down Ginger’s face. “Miss Brown, I’ve been on the force for twenty-three 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 rear passenger glass window and saw Portia and Celeste standing on the sidewalk 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 Sergeant Montgomery. Back at her house she had agreed to come to the police station just to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald arrived home. Ginger had gotten into Celeste’s car voluntarily. Telling Sergeant Montgomery that she had been kidnapped by her best friends was Ginger’s anger speaking. Celeste and Portia were constantly meddling in her personal business. It would serve them right if Sergeant Montgomery slapped handcuffs on both of them.
Sergeant 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.” She didn’t 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. She refused to answer the question.
“Miss Brown, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Sergeant Montgomery said. “Your friend, Celeste, said that your boyfriend threatened to kill you if you told that he physically abused you. Is that true? If it is, I will personally see to it that you’re placed in protective custody. I 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.”
Sergeant Montgomery gasped. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that true?” she asked Ginger.
A tear dripped from Ginger’s chin. “I really don’t wanna be here,” she said.
Sergeant Montgomery pleaded 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. No man is. 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. Sergeant Montgomery sat in silence for a few seconds. “You are a beautiful black woman. Learn to love yourself. It hurts me deeply to get called to a house and find one of my black sisters unresponsive from domestic abuse. 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.”
Sergeant Montgomery waited another twenty seconds for Ginger to confess. She then got out of the car and walked over to where Portia and Celeste were standing. She looked at them both. “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.
Sergeant 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.
Sergeant 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 had 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 side of the car, got in, and slammed the door. Portia sat in the passenger seat. Sergeant Montgomery watched Celeste’s tires burn rubber as she pulled away from the curb.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Celeste said angrily as she sped away. She drove back to Ginger’s house so that Portia could get her car. Celeste 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 back seat, “Let me out, Celeste!” She knew Celeste was gonna try to take her home with her.
“No!” Celeste yelled back at Ginger.
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 suitcase, Ron’s gonna go off.”
“Well then keep the darn suitcase, Celeste. I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”
“If you live that long,” Celeste commented.
Ginger couldn’t believe what her friend had just said to her. “You know what, Celeste? Just because you live in a fairy tale world with the perfect husband and the perfect job don’t make you any better than anyone.”
“What the heck are you talking about, Ginger? I’m trying to keep this fool from killing you. You better wake up and realize who really loves you. I’m tired of begging you to save your own life. If you wanna let Ron knock your brains out, then that’s on you ’cause I’m through with it.” Celeste opened her door, got out, and then pressed the seat forward.
Ginger climbed out of the back seat. Portia exited the passenger seat and walked around to the driver’s side where Ginger and Celeste stood.
Ginger looked at both of them. “I love y’all. I will see you at church in the morning.”
Portia hugged Ginger. “I love you too, honey.”
Ginger let go of Portia and looked at Celeste. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I know you love me.”
Celeste made no effort to hug Ginger. She was angry. “Yeah, whatever. I gotta go.” She got in the car and slammed the door shut. She backed out of the driveway.
“You know Celeste is a hothead,” Portia said to Ginger when they were left alone in Ginger’s driveway. “But she only wants what’s best for you. We both do.”
“Portia, I love Ronald. And I know that he loves me too.” Ginger made the statement as though she was simply telling Portia what time of day it was.
It saddened Portia that Ginger may have actually convinced herself of that lie. “Ginger, is he loving you when he’s bouncing you off the walls?”
Ginger lowered her head and didn’t respond. Portia proceeded to her car and drove off.
Ginger walked to the garage door and stood before the security panel mounted just beneath the security light. She keyed in the four digit code and the garage door lifted. Once inside the garage Ginger walked to the interior door that led to the breezeway. She pressed the CLOSE button on a different panel and went inside.
Ginger walked through the kitchen. On the way to her bedroom she saw Ronald lying on the sofa in the living room, watching a basketball game. The same white, sterile living room that Ginger was forbidden to enter. Ronald was wearing a pair of gray jogging pants and a white ribbed tank T-shirt known as a wife beater. Ginger wondered if Ronald was dressed to beat her.
Ronald had heard Ginger come in. He knew she was standing at the archway to the living room. He looked up at her. “What did I tell you about leaving this house with dirty dishes in the sink?”
<
br /> Ginger became nervous. “I’m sorry, baby, I forgot.”
Ronald looked at the suit she was wearing. “Why do you have on a suit and where have you been?”
Ginger nervously looked down at her attire. “I went to see a lady from the church. She’s a seamstress. I needed to get my skirt hemmed for church tomorrow.” Ginger’s lies to Ronald had become more and more effortless.
Ronald repositioned himself on the sofa. “You went to church last Sunday. You ain’t going tomorrow.”
Ginger started to panic. Her name was on the church programs. She’d been looking forward to emceeing the annual Women’s Day program for the past three months. In preparation for the service, Ginger had been walking around the house pretending to hold a microphone in her hand, practicing her speech. What would happen if she didn’t show up at church? Folks were depending on her to be there. Ginger had to be at church, she just had to.
She walked to Ronald and knelt down to kiss his lips softly before heading to the kitchen to wash the three glasses and saucers that she, Portia, and Celeste had drunk tea and eaten cookies from.
“Next time, I’m not gonna ask any questions about dirty dishes being left in the sink, Ginger. If you’re gonna act like a two-year-old, then I’ll treat you like one.”
“It won’t happen again,” Ginger said over her shoulder.
“Make me a sandwich,” Ronald ordered.
Five minutes later, Ginger brought Ronald a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on a small wooden lap dinner tray. Next to the sandwich was a glass of grape Kool-Aid.
“Where is my napkin?” Ronald asked. “And you know I like ice in my Kool-Aid.”
Ginger quickly returned to the kitchen for a napkin and to put ice cubes in the glass of Kool-Aid. “Can I go to church tomorrow?” she asked when she returned from the kitchen with the napkin and Kool-Aid.
Ronald looked at her. “I said ‘you went last Sunday’. So, you ain’t going tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow is the annual Women’s Day celebration. I’ve been asked to be the mistress of ceremonies. Had I known that you wouldn’t have let me go to church two Sundays in a row, Ron, I would’ve missed last week just so that I could be there tomorrow.”
Ginger stood in the middle of her living room, looking at an unemployed man who was not her husband lie on her sofa and watch the television she paid for, praying that he would allow her to go to church. It dawned on Ginger that Celeste was right. Ronald was very ugly. His face was oily, his French braids were long overdue to be braided again, and he needed to shave. The hair on Ronald’s chin was nappy and it looked like taco meat.
Ronald drank from the glass and swallowed. He took a bite of his sandwich. “I shouldn’t let you go anywhere ’cause I’m tired of telling you about leaving dirty dishes in the sink.”
“Portia and Celeste stopped by this evening. We had tea and cookies. I modeled my suit for them and that’s when Portia suggested that I get my skirt hemmed. She said it was way too long. So we had to leave in a hurry to get to the seamstress’s house before it got too late. I had totally forgotten about the cups and saucers.”
“You’re gonna have to start entertaining those broads outside of this house. They don’t like me and the feeling is mutual.”
The hatred Ginger’s friends felt toward Ronald was not unknown to him. The very first time Ginger told Portia and Celeste that Ronald had slapped her face they drove to Ginger’s house and confronted him. They threatened to kill Ronald if he touched her again. Ronald told Ginger that if her friends insisted on interjecting themselves in their personal relationship then they would be banned from the house altogether. From that moment on Ginger had rarely invited the girls to her home and if she did it was always at a time when she knew that Ronald would be out of the house.
Ginger didn’t respond to Ronald’s latest demand. If he didn’t want Celeste and Portia to visit then she would see to it that they didn’t. With her suit still on, Ginger sat next to Ronald and pretended to be into the basketball game he was watching. When he had finished his meal and drunk the last of his Kool-Aid, Ginger took the plate and glass into the kitchen and washed them.
She turned the kitchen light off then came and stood nervously by the sofa. “Honey, I know you’re into the game but I was wondering if you’ve decided to let me go to church.”
Ronald ignored Ginger for a long thirty seconds while he continued to watch the game before he looked up at her and asked, “What’s in it for me?”
Ginger didn’t say a word. She knew what to do next. Right there in the living room, she stripped naked then knelt before Ronald. He grabbed Ginger by the back of her head and guided her face toward his lap.
* * *
Celeste walked in the front door and slammed it shut behind her. Her husband, Anthony, was talking on the telephone with their pastor. He watched as Celeste threw her purse and keys on the sofa next to him and stormed toward the rear of the house.
“It was good talking with you too, Pastor. Celeste and I will see you at church in the morning.” Anthony disconnected the call and went to find his wife. He found her in the master bathroom sitting at her vanity, removing makeup from her eyes with a cotton ball.
In the mirror, Celeste saw Anthony leaning against the doorframe watching her. She didn’t acknowledge him but by how far Celeste’s lips were poked out, Anthony sensed that she was upset.
Celeste tossed the cotton ball toward the trash can but missed. Anthony picked it up from the floor and threw it in the trash can, then came and sat next to her. Celeste inched over to allow him more room.
Anthony faced his wife. He exhaled. “Let me guess. Ginger and Ron, right?”
“Yep, you guessed it.” Ginger opened the cabinet next to her left leg and grabbed a bottle of Sea Breeze astringent. She soaked a cotton ball with the blue liquid and began rubbing it all over her face.
Anthony extended his legs and crossed his ankles. He leaned backward and placed his elbows on Celeste’s vanity. “What did that punk do this time?”
Celeste threw the cotton ball into the trash can. “He hit her again, Tony. You should see her shoulder. Bruises are all the way down her arm.”
“She showed them to you?” Anthony asked.
“No. Evidently, Ginger didn’t know the marks were there. Portia and I saw the bruises while she was modeling the suit she’s wearing to church tomorrow; that is, if Ron even allows her to go to church.”
Anthony could only imagine how Celeste behaved when she saw Ginger’s bruises. “You didn’t freak out did you, Celeste?”
Celeste was applying moisturizer to her face when she stopped and looked at her husband. “Heck yeah, I freaked as I should have. What would you do if your best friend was getting his butt whipped all the time?”
“Look, baby. You and Portia have to come to the conclusion that Ginger is an adult. You can’t live her life or make decisions for her, nor can the two of you fight her battles. Yeah, Ron is a punk. But until Ginger decides that she’s had enough of his crap, there’s nothing you, Portia, or anyone else can do.” That wasn’t the first time that Anthony had to remind Celeste to stay out of Ginger’s business. “My concern is you,” Anthony stated. “You’re my wife and I don’t want you to have a stroke or develop ulcers over Ginger and Ron’s issues. The only thing you can do for Ginger is pray for her and be there when she needs you.”
Tears ran down Celeste’s face. “Portia and I took her to the police station but she wouldn’t even get out of the car. I went inside and got a female cop, a sister, and brought her to Ginger but she sat in the back seat and wouldn’t open her mouth. Portia and I looked like two fools.”
Anthony grabbed Celeste’s hand and kissed her open palm. “You and Portia have been going through this with Ginger for years. Nothing will change until she faces reality and realizes that it’s up to her, and only her, to get away from Ronald. So let’s change the subject. How did your doctor’s appointment go this morning?”
Celeste
wiped the tears from her eyes. “And that’s another thing that’s getting on my nerves, Tony. I’m sick of being disappointed every month. We try and try and try but I always get my period. Today Dr. Bindu took my temperature and gave me an ovulation predictor. He said that our best chances of becoming pregnant is between now and next Friday.”
Anthony stood behind Celeste and massaged her shoulders. What he didn’t know was that his loving wife, the wife he cherished, and the wife he desperately wanted to have a baby with, had just lied to him. Those were not Dr. Bindu’s words. He had sent Celeste home with bad news. The ovulation predictor was a purchase that she’d made at Walmart after her appointment. But she had wasted her money. Doctor Bindu told Celeste that her chances of conceiving a baby were slim to none.
“So, what are we waiting on?” Anthony asked.
Celeste dismissed Anthony’s question and asked one of her own. “What am I gonna do about Ginger?” She was not in a rush to make a baby because a baby would never be made.
Anthony let out a loud sigh. “Celeste, I want you to let Ginger take care of Ginger. And I want you to come to bed so I can take care of you.”
* * *
In her bedroom, Portia pressed the play button on her answering machine. She listened to her messages as she undressed.
“Hey, beautiful. What’s up with you? It’s me, David. I’ve been calling you all day. Hit me on my cell when you get in.” Beep.
David insisted that Portia only called him on his cellular phone. She wasn’t worthy of his home number. His wife could answer.
“Hi, Portia. This is Greg. I’ve been trying to hook up with you for two weeks. What’s up? Are you missing in action or what?” Beep.
Every two weeks, like clockwork, when Gregory’s wife got a headache, he wound up in Portia’s bed.
“Portia, this is Richard. Why are you avoiding me? You think a brotha ain’t got nothing else better to do than track you down?” Beep.
Three days ago, Portia received a dozen red roses at the car dealership where she worked as an administrative assistant. The inside card read:
Damsels in Distress Page 2
