Knowing

by Rosalyn McMillan

“I have so much respect for you, Kim. You know so much for someone so young,” said Ginger, clearing the table.

  “I had a good teacher.” She leaned against the counter as Ginger washed and dried their cups and saucers. “Remember that guy that helped me get my job at the agency? Randall. Randall Pierce.” Ginger shook her head no as she folded the dish towel and looped it through the oven handle. “Anyway, we went to school together at Michigan State. After the first semester, we seemed destined to meet. We had the same classes. Sometimes with different professors. But over the four years we became fast friends, doing our homework together, sharing stories about our childhood and domineering parents.”

  “And you say the guy helped you get your job at Pierce-Walker?”

  “Yeah. He pulled a few strings because his aunt owns the investment company.” She threw her hands in the air. “Otherwise, I would have had to have at least two to three years’ experience after college before I landed a job like this.”

  “Lucky you,” said Ginger, feeling envious. Her cousin had done all the things Ginger had wanted to do when she was younger. She had lived on campus at an impressive university, dated men from different social backgrounds, and shopped whenever she felt like it, thanks to a generous allowance from her parents. And, most importantly, had chosen a good career early on in life.

  “No, Ginger. You make your own luck. Contacts. Networking is important to succeed in business. I’ve negotiated a lot of deals for that company. They gave me a job, but I’ve paid them back tenfold with my impressive lists of satisfied clients. I’m good. Damn good.” She glanced at her watch. It was getting late. “No brag . . .”

  “Just fact,” said Ginger, completing the phrase. She turned toward Kim and asked, “Wouldn’t you like to open a business with Bill as your partner?” She handed Kim her purple leather coat from the hall closet.

  “No.” Kim stood motionless in the middle of the foyer. “Bill is good at his job, and I’m good at mine. I enjoy knowing that I’m superior to him at something.” She thought about it for a moment. “You know how intellectual he is. I admire him for it. I respect his dedication and genuine concern about the importance of his work with troubled Black children” — she paused — “but I expect the same respect. I’m educating affluent Black clients on how to invest their money. Money is power. Without power, we’re defeated before we begin.

  “Sure, I have White clients. Satisfied White clients. Every now and then they lose a few grand, but they can afford it.” She thought for a moment before adding, “Scratch that. The only dissatisfied Caucasian around me is my boss, Cameron. Randall’s uncle.” She eased into her coat.

  “He resents my friendship with his nephew. Says I’m using him to climb the corporate ladder. Of course Mr. Cameron didn’t start complaining until I stopped fucking him.” She waited for the shock to register on Ginger’s face.

  Ginger’s mouth formed a large O. “You what?”

  “Grow up, Ginger. I fucked him. He was the boss. I thought he was the key to a managerial position. Boy, was I wrong. His wife holds the strings. He’s only a puppet.” Kim sucked in her breath. “Listen, Ginger, this was before I met Doctor Bill. Before he used his charms on me, and I developed a conscience.”

  Kim put her hands over her heart defensively. “Look, I’m human. I’ve made a few mistakes. Will probably make several more. Bill’s taught me to look forward in life. To create a positive future without looking back. I can’t change the past, and the immature decisions I’ve made.” She looked deeply into her cousin’s eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve lowered your opinion of me — but life’s full of surprises.”

  “Let’s not get so dramatic,” said Ginger, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, Jackson’s going to be gone until Sunday or Monday, why don’t we meet for lunch Friday afternoon?”

  “Aren’t you going . . . I forgot, you have your real estate classes on Thursday and Friday, right?” She admired her cousin’s tenacity. Changing her life with a husband as jealous as Jackson wasn’t going to be easy. Even though Ginger would never admit it, Kim had seen from the moment they first met how he overpowered her, dominated her. Maybe with him away, she could coax Ginger into a heart-to-heart before her cousin sabotaged what would probably be her last effort to leave the factory life behind.

  “I forgot. I’ve got to call Mama before I go home. She wanted me to stop by the store for something, I can’t remember what. . . .” Kim patted the girls on the head as they sped past her in the kitchen. “Mama’s not feeling too well herself, I’m afraid.”

  As they made their way to the foyer, Ginger asked Kim if she and her mother were getting along any better. “Oooohh, that woman gets on my nerves! Complain. Complain. Complain. She never compliments me on anything. In her eyes, I’m just a selfish spoiled child looking for somebody to take care of me after I leave home.” She took her car keys from her purse and walked toward the front door. “She seems to have forgotten I haven’t asked her or my father for a dime in the last year and a half.”

  “Why would you? You’ve told me time and time again how much your commissions brought you. You should be loaded living at home with your parents. I know for a fact that Aunt Jewel isn’t charging you any rent.”

  “If we weren’t cousins, I’d tell you to mind your own business. But, I’ll let you in on one of my goals. I’ve invested half my take-home pay since joining the firm in high-risk investments. Randall helped me set up my portfolio.” She gave Ginger an innocent smile. “Bill doesn’t even know about it. I let him think I spend all my money on clothes — he’ll never know how many store managers I’ve got calling me when the suit I’ve been waiting for gets the final markdown. I shop on my lunch hour at least three times a week searching for a bargain. And believe me, you can always find one. Guess how much I paid for this suit?”

  Ginger was impressed. She turned her head from side to side. Kim knew she’d been sewing for years and knew the quality and price of a tailored suit. “Maybe two-fifty, or three hundred dollars.”

  “Try sixty-five dollars. Give the lady a star — it retailed for two ninety-nine.” She held Ginger’s eye for a moment before adding, “You know what I tell Dr. Bill?” Ginger’s eyes rolled upwards. “I tell him I need a beeper. I need a car phone, and next month I need it turned on. I need some tires for my car, and I need my windows tinted.”

  Ginger laughed playfully. “Go on, girl.”

  “Look. I got what he wants. We both know it. He’s got enough sense to say no if the price is too high, don’t you think?”

  “Amen,” said Ginger, giggling.

  “And I’m going to reward him generously.” She gave Ginger a provocative stare. “And don’t let him get me a CD player. Have mercy. He’ll really get it good then.”

  Ginger couldn’t contain her laughter. “You’re scandalous, girl.”

  “Just call me an enterprising woman.” She went to the front door. “It’ll probably take Bill ’til Christmas time next year to buy me everything I want. He’s so tight. He watches every dime. He’s almost worse than I am. But,” she said, lifting a single finger, “he’s got several investors backing his clinic so he won’t have to spend any of his savings.” She kissed Ginger on the cheek. Then suddenly a coldness passed over her face for a fleeting moment before she turned the handle on the front door.

  “You worried about Jackson?” asked Kim, cracking the door.

  Ginger hoped Kim would understand her feelings without being too judgmental. “A little. I’ve always tried to include him in all my business ideas, hoping we could run a business together one day. . . . He doesn’t seem to share my same enthusiasm. He’s so intelligent, he could go so far if . . .”

  Pushing the door closed, Kim shut out the cold air before turning back to her sulking cousin. She cocked her head sideways and said, “Why do women insist on loving men for what they want them to be, instead of what they are?”

  A surprised look came over Ginger’s face. Kim hugged her, tied the belt on h
er leather coat, and left. She wanted to say more but felt it was better to let Ginger do a bit of soul searching on her own before she bombarded her with all her theories about men and marriage.

  Kim had heard on numerous occasions from Ginger about how intelligent Jackson was. How articulate and what potential he had. But Kim knew that what Ginger had failed to take into consideration was the fact that the potential you see in other people, especially your mate, doesn’t mean anything if they have no desire to climb any farther than the level at which they are comfortable. Knowing Jackson, Kim thought, with his quiet ways, his love of television and the easygoing life, he was quite comfortable, indeed.

  8

  I Can’t Help Myself

  Kim shivered slightly; small goose bumps made a trail along her arms as the cool night air touched her bare skin. As he drew her near, his gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders, to her full breasts. His look was as soft as a caress. His fingers traced small circles of sensation around the globes of her breasts. Kneading, massaging until her dark nipples peaked and stood erect. The warmth of his mouth closed around her rosy brown mound of softness, kissing, sucking her smooth roundness. He cupped them with his hands, his thumbs briskly feathering their tautness. Her kiss told him of her arousal.

  His breath was just faintly perfumed with wintergreen as his lips met hers. Their tongues touched, circling each other in an erotic ballet of moist sensation. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers teasing her tufted mound. His two thumbs gently pulled the folds apart, and he dipped the tips of his fingers into her sweet flesh. He caressed her tiny jewel, urging her to whisper his name — “Bill, ahhhhh Bill.” Knowing she was ready, his mouth covered hers hungrily.

  Bill raised his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Kim.” She watched as his head bent forward, his woolly brush cut grazing her skin, pushing between her open thighs. He took her tiny pearl between his lips and tongue and sucked on it, at first gently, then harder. She closed her eyes, her head rolling from side to side. She clutched his head, encouraging him not to stop. She made a soft sound and arched her body to meet his plunging tongue.

  She could feel her clitoris growing, expanding, getting hotter with each thrust of his tongue. She was sweating, though she couldn’t remember it being hot in the small room. She shivered, and then quite suddenly relaxed. She made a soft moan aloud. Then it began. Her legs began to tremble, her pelvis lifted itself off the mattress as if it were out of control.

  She felt her orgasm. Her tiny jewel made one last jab forward, the lips of her vagina opened to grab whatever was available as her insides clamped together like a vise. She groaned aloud. She was coming, and he kept sucking the juices of her honeyed cream. Her legs closed around his head, and he didn’t seem to mind, as he continued his love affair, sucking and eating on her like a hungry animal starved for food. Again she came. And again. She sighed and her eyes closed of their own volition, her body buoyant and languid.

  “More . . . I want more, Bill,” she said shamelessly. “Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She shuddered, as his head lifted from her quivering thighs. His body was hot and wet. She could feel the sweat on his back as she ran her fingers along the crevice of his spine. She grasped his shaft between her two hands and guided him into her. Her vagina was still hot and tight from her orgasm. She clamped her muscles around his shaft, as if to lock them together for eternity. He buried his head in her breasts, but she searched his mouth to kiss him, to kiss herself. It made her shiver. The air was heavy with the scent of lust and her exotic Satin perfume.

  She grabbed his butt so that his pelvis ground hard against hers, forcing him to plunge deeper and deeper into her. And then he came, moaning her name with a cry of ecstasy as he finally released his passion.

  Soft jazz flowed through Bill’s small apartment as they lay silent, enjoying a short moment of reprieve.

  “The drywall was delivered this morning,” Bill began as he wrapped the sheet around Kim’s half-nude body.

  She turned over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “So you think the clinic should be finished on time for the grand opening in May?”

  “Should be.” He slipped on his boxer shorts and handed Kim a manila envelope from his dresser drawer. Several volumes of leather-bound physicians’ texts lined the bookshelf above his bureau. “These are all the signed contracts from the investors.” Sitting beside her as she inspected the contents, he smiled happily to himself. She was everything he ever needed in a woman. When everything was under way he planned to ask her to marry him.

  “I’m proud of you, Bill.” She traced the line around his lips with her index finger and kissed him lovingly on the mouth. “I knew everything was going to work out all right. I don’t know why you worry so much.”

  He rested the back of his head against the headboard and crossed his ankles. “I’m not worried. Just careful. I’ve got a lot at risk, and it’s important to me to be successful. I’ve got other plans that revolve around the progress of this practice.” He looked around his cramped apartment. “I can’t wait to move into a larger place.” He glanced at Kim quickly, hoping she understood his meaning.

  Taking her hands in his, he brought them to his lips, kissing them tenderly. “I want you to understand that we’ll have less time together soon. I’ll be working more hours at the clinic, trying to get it established — regular hours will be a thing of the past. But in the long run it’ll all pay off. The outlook through the year two thousand is excellent for child psychiatrists. Health and welfare agencies need expertise like mine.

  “I’ve already been approached by government agencies who have patients in need of the treatments our clinic is offering. We’re also working with teachers, principals, and administrators to provide a network for Black educators to exchange ideas, and strategies for the troubled youths we’ll be seeing at the clinic.

  “We’re going to be hosting monthly professional development seminars, reports on effective strategies for teaching Black children, encouraging the Detroit school system to teach history that is relevant to our Black children. The school system is, after all, eighty-five percent Black.

  “We want parents to become more actively involved in helping their kids eliminate the gap between potential and achievement.”

  Kim looked into the eyes of a man who was dedicated to his chosen field. He stood to make a good living, but he clearly loved helping Black children. Her heart was full of love for her lover, and she longed to utter the words to tell him so. But somehow they remained frozen behind her lips.

  Wiping the sleep form her eyes, Ginger fumbled for the telephone. “Hello,” she said huskily.

  “It’s me, baby —”

  “Jackson?”

  “Hi, baby. I’m sorry to call you so late.” Ginger focused her tired eyes on the clock, which spelled out 10:50 P.M. “There was so much to do down here, I lost track of time.”

  “Oh, I forgot about the time difference.” Folding back the comforter, she got out of bed and sat on the edge of the window seat. Pulling back the floral drapes, she peered out the window. “How’s the weather?”

  “It’s about sixty degrees.”

  Outside the sky was clear. High above the tops of the pine trees hung the crescent of a new moon like a pale eyelash. “It’s barely twenty degrees here,” she said, sliding back beneath the warmth. “How’s your mother doing?”

  “You know Mama. She won’t admit she’s in any pain, but I can see it in her face just as plain as day. She don’t like us fussing over her.”

  “Is everybody there?”

  “Everybody except Jab. He’s on the road. I think he’s in Florida. Elmyra called this afternoon and said he’d try to make it by six tomorrow evening.”

  “What time is her surgery scheduled for?” Ginger propped her head on her elbow, listening for a hint of worry in his voice.

  He cleared his throat and paused for a moment. “It’s set for eight in the morning.”

  �
�Is she in the hospital now?”

  “Yeah. We stayed with her until she fell asleep. That’s why I got back so late. She hasn’t seen us all together in almost a year. All of us gave her a play-by-play on how her grandchildren were doing. She asked about Lady Bug and the boys.”

  Her mother-in-law never failed to ask about her kids. Ginger secretly wondered if Hattie B. minded her son marrying a woman with three children from a previous marriage. But in the eight years Ginger and Jackson had been married, she’d never asked about the kids’ father, or why she’d divorced him. Ginger had to respect her for that. Most mothers-in-law were so nosy they couldn’t wait to pry and find out all the dirt on their nondeserving daughters-in-law, who they usually felt wasn’t good enough for their saintly sons. But not Hattie B.

  “That was nice. Tell her I said hi when you go back to the hospital tomorrow.”

  “She told me to give you a message.”

  “What?” said Ginger, feeling immediately nervous.

  “She told me to tell you she’s keeping an eye on me. You don’t have to worry about your old man running the streets with no strange women.”

  “Jackson . . . did you tell her I was jealous?” she asked incredulously.

  “I didn’t have to. Remember last summer when you got pissed off at my class reunion and left me at the party?”

  “Yeah. I remember. But how was I supposed to know that was your cousin kissing you?”

  “If you had asked, instead of jumping to conclusions, I would have told you exactly who she was.”

  “I ain’t never seen a family with so many cousins in my entire life. Is everybody in Mississippi related?” Jackson laughed, and Ginger added, “Our family is one of the largest in Port Huron, but it doesn’t come close to yours.”

  “I told you I had a big family when you married me, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But who doesn’t exaggerate a little these days? And when we come down there this summer I’m going to suggest to your sister that we wear name tags. I can’t remember all those people’s names.” She could feel him smiling through the phone.