Knowing (19 page)

“I know how to pack your bag, Granny. I helped Daddy pack his bag. He told me I was a big girl — and big girls can do everything. Right, Mommy?” Ginger smiled sweetly at her daughter and patted her narrow buttocks before she skipped off downstairs.

“Ginger, I declare that girl looks so much like her daddy, I’d swear he spit her out. The only thing she took from you is her keen nose.”

“Leave my baby alone, Mama,” said Ginger, blushing. “She does have the cutest little button nose, doesn’t she?” Katherine nodded as she finished the last of her Pepsi. “She’s been asking me when she’s going to get a bridge like mine and the rest of the kids. She doesn’t like that little button in the middle of her face.” Ginger and Katherine both laughed.

“Time. When she’s ten years old, she won’t remember ever not having one. Remember when Christian’s and Jason’s noses sat on their faces like that?” Katherine said knowingly.

Ginger thought fondly of her boys’ small noses, and how she’d wondered if they’d ever resemble hers and their father’s. Katherine had assured her, no child was born with a keen nose like hers, they had to grow into their schnozzes. But then Sierra was born, pale as pie dough, fire red hair, and a sharp, pointed nose, complete with a bridge, and Katherine had had to eat her words. “Yeah, I remember, Mama.”

“Well, this baby ain’t no different. Autumn’s got to grow into it. Yes sir, she’s got the same fine line of baby hair outlining her face, full lips, and a tall narrow body just like him. Them hard legs of hers remind me of a young colt, just learning how to walk.”

Ginger thought of Jackson’s nude body as he stepped from the shower, his firm body glistening as he toweled himself off. She smiled, shaking her head slightly, recalling how the soap suds ran along his hairline at the base of his neck. He never seemed to remember to rinse the soap from his hair. Standing behind him, she would wipe away the suds, her eyes feasting on the beauty of his physique as he shaved.

“Don’t talk about my baby’s legs, Mama. Jackson’s got terrific legs— and so will she.”

“Sure, sure,” said Katherine, rising to clear the table.

Ginger followed her into the kitchen. “Mama, do you think Kim’s been acting a little strange? She was so quiet today — and when he wasn’t taking time with the children, so was Bill. Something’s wrong.” She reached in the cabinet, searching for her vitamins, which weren’t in their usual place.

Katherine reached around Ginger, opening the cabinet next to her. “Is this what you’re looking for?” She handed her four brown bottles. “Ain’t nothing wrong with them two that a good night of screwing won’t cure.”

“Mama!” Ginger counted out the vitamins in her hand, gulping them down with water.

Katherine wasn’t paying her any attention; she was looking in the refrigerator. “So they had an argument — everybody does.” She kicked the door shut with her foot after she tucked a bottle of Colt 45 under her arm.

“I thought you gave that up for today?” said Ginger, looking into the refrigerator for something to snack on that wasn’t fattening. She settled for a bruised golden Delicious apple. Cutting off the brown spots and rinsing it clean, she joined her mother, who’d already consumed half the bottle of cold brew.

Katherine eyed her daughter as she belched loudly. “That sneaky-looking Mae Thelma is who you should be concerned about.” Ginger’s eyes bugged out as she studied her mother’s I-bet-I-know-something-you-don’t face. “Every time you mentioned Jackson’s name, that sanctified whore feasted on every word, like he was the main course, instead of the turkey and dressing piled on her plate.”

“Mama. She’s so nice. This is one time you don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s Jackson’s cousin’s wife.” Her mind retraced the conversation at the dinner table earlier. When she thought about it for a minute, Mae Thelma did seem a bit interested in hearing about when Jackson was coming back home. No. She was saved. She wouldn’t even think of looking at another man. Especially Jackson— would she?

“I don’t give a damn how saved and sanctified she is. She’s still a woman.” Katherine took another swig of beer and wagged the bottle in Ginger’s face while she continued. “I asked her when her husband was coming home from jail.” Katherine gave Ginger another one of her knowing looks.

“Mama, you shouldn’t have done that. Mae Thelma doesn’t like to mention it to other people. I hope you didn’t say anything in front of Bill?”

“Do I look like a damned fool to you?”

“No, Ma.”

“Tact. Something you don’t have. Tact.” Katherine sat back in her seat, sipping on the last of her beer. “Gonna be a while before he gets out. Her ass should be getting plenty hot by the summer, you mind what I’m saying.”

“Isn’t it obvious she knows how to pray? She carries that Bible with her everywhere she goes.”

“Don’t mean diddly shit to a young woman in heat. Pretty, too.”

“What about
older
women in heat?” asked Ginger, seeing her mother’s body tense.

Katherine creased a fold in the waxed paper to keep the air from getting into the rest of her crackers. She lifted her robust frame from the table, glaring at her Ginger. “You know, if you had an ounce —”

“Granny,” called a sweet voice from the hallway. Autumn came in with a big smile on her face. She grabbed her granny’s hand, using her tiny body to pull her from the room. “Come see.”

Katherine softened her features into a smile. She rolled her eyes at Ginger as she left the room hand in hand with Autumn. Just in time, before she cussed out her daughter. Something she really didn’t want to do, knowing how much Ginger was missing Jackson, and knowing how insecure she was feeling about her hair. And Mae Thelma sitting there earlier looking like a Greek goddess with enough hair for Rapunzel. Katherine saw Ginger staring at the younger woman’s hair with such envy in her eyes, she almost couldn’t stand it.

Although Katherine’s daughter had lashed out at her, the problem was, Ginger was right. Her ass was getting a might overheated lately, and she planned on doing something about it. Soon. Point was, a horny bitch could always smell another bitch in heat, and Mae Thelma’s scent was evident to Katherine even through all that sweet-smelling honeysuckle.

The Tracks of My Tears

Ginger and the children huddled around the television set in the family room. Channel Two news was on, and Ginger sat watching patiently as they waited for Jason to end a phone call to his girlfriend so they could have a family discussion.

“See, that’s him, Mama,” said Sierra, pointing to the handsome face on the screen.

Ginger turned her head to watch the good-looking young man in his late twenties who was anchoring the six o’clock news. His striking gray eyes caught Ginger’s attention, and she was certain he must have had the same effect on her daughter. His Hershey’s light-chocolate skin resembled Sierra’s. A tad light for Ginger’s taste, but great-looking all the same. “He’s cute, Sierra.”

“Cute,” butted in Autumn. “Mommy, Ivory Michaels’s superfine.”

“If you say so.” Ginger turned toward the doorway — what was keeping Jason? Anxiously she looked at her watch, it had been almost —

“Here he comes, Ma,” said Christian, hearing the sound of footsteps.

“Yo, Ma, what up?” called Jason, from across the room, drinking orange juice from a quart bottle.

“I hope you bought that juice from work, and it didn’t come from the refrigerator. I told you about drinking from the bottle.”

“Chill, Ma. I brought it home with me,” he said, flopping down beside her on the couch. Autumn and Sierra still sat mesmerized by the articulate figure on the screen. Jason smiled as he watched his sisters’ attentiveness to the set. He’d seen them many a night, agog over this man on television who looked like a sissy to him — his hair was too straight, nose a bit too pointed, and his lips were too narrow for a Black man. He couldn’t possibly shoot any hoops with those well-manicured nails of his. Nope, pure fag, thought Jason.

Christian was busy eyeing the female co-anchor, a woman who looked like Liz Taylor. Even had the same first name. Elizabeth Guest. Big boobs that strained against her tight silk blouse. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he’d be joining his brother with a list of conquests. He turned his attention back to his mother.

“ — anyway, that’s what I hope to be able to do within the next year, if everything goes as planned,” said Ginger, looking around at their inquiring faces after she’d explained about her plans for changing jobs.

“I’m all for it, Ma,” said Jason, The other three chorused a yes, nodding their approval.

Ginger stood, pacing the floor in front of them. Turning down the volume on the set, she was amused to see the unhappy looks on Autumn’s and Sierra’s faces. Well, Ginger thought, if a handsome anchor was the only way to get them to watch something informative and mind-stimulating, instead of the endless music videos they watched on BET, so be it.

The problem was, when Jackson found out about their crush on Ivory Michaels, all hell would break loose. He was so old-fashioned. He’d already told Autumn she couldn’t have a boyfriend until she was sixteen. Autumn had confided in her mother that she already had a boyfriend in nursery school. He slept beside her every day at nap time, and they ate lunch together at the picnic table. How romantic, thought Ginger, wryly. But judging from the moonstruck look she’d seen on her daughter’s face, it was.

“I’m hoping that the four of you will keep the house clean for me, until . . . until I can convince Jackson to get a housekeeper.” Her voice lowered. “Perhaps it won’t be too long. Anyway, I’m hoping that you, Christian,” she said, pointing at him, “can fry chicken for me, once or twice a week.”

Christian had learned to fry chicken well over the past few months. He’d watched his mother so many times, waiting for her to lift the crispy wings from the bubbly golden grease as his mouth watered in anticipation. He’d decided he could imitate her cooking skills. One evening when Ginger had worked twelve hours, Christian surprised her and had the chicken fried and hot when she got home. Sierra had reluctantly made a salad. Autumn had made Kool-Aid.

Ginger quickly added, “I plan on adding to your allowance, Pie Face.” That got an eager response. “Fifteen a week.” Christian tucked his bottom lip, sucking merrily as his mind did a quick calculation of the monthly benefit. If the increase lasted for a while, by the end of the year he’d have tucked away quite a sum. Close to three hundred dollars would be added to his other stash. Yep, he hoped this would last awhile.

“What can I do, Mama?” asked Sierra. “I can clean real good. But I can’t cook nothin’ but pancakes.”

Ginger hugged her daughter, patting her on the head. “I don’t see anything wrong with eating pancakes every once in a while for dinner, do you, Autumn?” The little girl shook her head no, eagerly agreeing. Autumn’s favorite food happened to be pancakes.

“Yo Ma. You know I can’t cook,” said Jason, bouncing his basketball on the polished tile. “I don’t want to learn how either. My wife gonna cook for me. That’s a woman’s job.” He looked at Christian, giving him the fag sign.

“No it isn’t. When a woman works, everybody should help with dinner.”

“Not in my house,” muttered Jason under his breath.

Autumn cradled Suzy and stood beside her mother, taking her hand. “I’ll help you, Mommy. What you want me to do?”

Ginger whisked her up in her arms, hugging her and kissing her on her brown cheeks. “You can help Sierra make the salad in the evenings and butter the biscuits. How’s that sound?”

“How much more do I get on my allowance, Mommy?” asked Autumn eagerly.

“Five more dollars a week. Is that okay?” Even though Autumn was much younger than her other children, Ginger didn’t want her to feel left out by not getting a weekly allowance. She genuinely wanted to help. Ginger also noticed that her math skills at school were sharper. Counting a few silver coins, a crisp dollar bill, worked wonders in math computations.

Autumn tried to figure out exactly how much more that would be, when added to the three she already got. She looked at her small fisted hands, slowly lifted one finger at a time, and silently counted under her breath, until Sierra kicked her.

“That’s ten a week for you, Sierra. Is that okay?”

Her eyes lit up like two candles burning inside. She leaned forward on the sofa, managing at last to tear herself away from the glances she’d been stealing at Ivory Michaels. “I can buy me a new outfit next week. When do we start, Mama? Do we get our extra money this week?”

“Yes, starting this week. Mama’s got classes this week and next week. I can help you guys for two weeks until I start working in the office at the beginning of next month, then you’re on your own. How’s that sound? I want to make sure you’re doing everything just right, so Jackson won’t fuss, okay?”

“You’re excused, Jason. I just want you to remember that this is a secret we’re keeping from Jackson. I don’t care how you feel about women’s lib. You’re still just a child to me, even though you’re doing other things.” She gave him a naughty stare. “If you know what I mean?”

He gave her a smile, picking up his basketball as he stood. “Ma, don’t get me wrong. I want you to quit your job at the factory. If I can help around the house —” he stopped bouncing the ball, tucking it under his muscled arms — “that is, on the days I don’t have to work, I’d be more than happy to pitch in.” He kissed his mother on the cheek.