Blue Collar Blues

by Rosalyn McMillan

  “Fine,” he said, downing the drink in a single gulp.

  “Are things that bad at home?” Sydney’s voice was edged with sarcasm rather than concern.

  Cy took a seat on one of the armchairs. “Things are bad everywhere. They’re screwing me over at Champion.” He sighed. “And I’m disgusted with myself for not apologizing to my wife before I left to go on this business trip.”

  “Cy, I don’t know why you keep resisting going into partnership with me. Things are all set to go.” She downed her drink and refilled both of their glasses. Sydney took a seat opposite Cy and crossed her legs. She stared at him. And continued to stare until Cy looked away.

  “I told you, Sydney, I’m not ready for that move yet. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

  Sydney’s smile stretched across her face before she spoke. “Circumstances might work out better than you expect, Cy.” Her expression changed to a wicked half-smile. “Thyme might not pose a problem by then.”

  She made him so uncomfortable he wanted to leave. Instead, he shook the ice cubes nervously in his glass before taking a long swallow. Maybe he was imagining things. “Sydney, are you suggesting something? I’ve told you before; stay out of my personal affairs. Thyme and I have loved each other as sweethearts. We even loved each other as baby sweethearts. We share something I’m sure you can’t possibly understand,” he added bitterly.

  “Is it her black skin that turns you on and makes you so obsessive about her?” She swirled the brown liquid around in her glass and leaned toward him. “Maybe you haven’t met the right white woman yet.”

  It was funny, he thought, looking at his sister’s bone-dry face. When had she lost her capacity for tears? “Passion comes in all colors. My wife happened to be the one that made me feel that one’s color doesn’t matter. And what about you, Sydney? Did you ever feel that kind of passion for Jarrod?”

  Sydney laughed. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about sex. It’s a waste of my energy when I could be doing more productive things. All I care about is my son and money.”

  Cy set his glass down. “I never knew you were so cold, Sydney.” Everything Thyme had said about his sister was true. Why hadn’t he listened?

  No wonder Jarrod had tired of her so quickly. Sydney’s first husband had left her five Champion dealerships when he died. Now she was worth seventy to eighty million dollars. All that money and she was still miserable.

  Throughout the twenty years he and Thyme had been married, he’d never been able to bridge the gap between his sister and his wife. Thyme’s hatred had fueled Sydney’s prejudice. But he had tried hard not to take sides, not wanting to alienate either woman he loved. Maybe now it was time to make a stand. And he had to side with his wife.

  “I’ve got to go, Sydney. I’ll talk with you when I get back.” He set down his glass and rose to leave. He kissed Sydney on her eyebrow and headed out of the room. “Give Graham a kiss for me and tell him maybe I’ll even visit him in London.” He wanted to get the hell out of there.

  “Cy?” Sydney said. She was following him out to the parking lot of the dealership.

  He was anxious to leave. “What is it, Sydney?”

  She approached him with her dry, passionless smile. When she kissed him softly on his forehead, Cy cringed. He pushed her back. “Good-bye, Sydney.”

  Sydney smiled and leaned against the door. “One more thing, Cy. I wanted to ask if you were going to see Graciella and the kids while you’re in Mexico.”

  “No. It’s over.”

  “I’m not your wife, Cy. I know what’s best for you. I would never hurt you.” She crossed her arms at her waist and followed him down the steps to his car. “I’ve known you for nearly fifty years—I knew you in the womb. I know you as well as you know yourself. Believe me, Thyme isn’t for you. She’s not PLU—people like us.”

  Cy’s eyes narrowed before he put on his sunglasses. “Sydney, stay out of my life. We’re not children anymore, and I can fight my own fights.” He started his car, but before speeding away her final words echoed ominously. “As I said earlier, Cy, things might turn out better than you expect.”

  To his further disgust, when he was cleaning up the last of his work before leaving for Mexico, a familiar face peeped inside.

  “Hello, Cyrus.” It was Audrey, giving him her special smile. Cy figured Audrey had been upstairs visiting her aunt Candice-Marie, or maybe that was a ruse. “Aren’t you leaving for Mexico today?”

  He picked up the phone and began dialing his wife. He didn’t care how rude it was. “Mm-hm. In a couple of hours. I had a few things to do here first.” Get off my back, Audrey. You’re wasting your time.

  “Is your new pager working out okay? We’ve updated the global feature a bit.”

  “Perfect.” Thyme’s phone was ringing. His heart began beating faster as he put the words together that would make everything right again. When the machine came on, he left a message.

  Looking up at Audrey, he thought about how he’d been wearing blinders. He was beginning to recognize that the white women working in corporate America totally understood that white privilege exists. Audrey was a perfect example. She had few skills and even less drive. The main reason she held her position with Champion was because of who she was related to. And it wasn’t even a prestigious job—working in the electronics division, it was a joke, just something that enabled her to say “I work at World Headquarters.”

  Suddenly Cy saw Thyme and her case in a whole new light. Thyme was right, she had more education than most of the people he worked with. She deserved to win the case against Champion, even if it cost him his job. If upper management was ever put in the spotlight, the company would look ridiculous based on the bimbos they promoted and continued to promote over those who deserved it.

  After Audrey finally got the hint and left, he shut down his computer, then gathered up his additional paperwork. As he did so, his mind stayed on his wife.

  Just as he was about to leave, Sandler filled his doorway.

  “I see you’re all packed and ready to go.” His cockiness and high-pitched voice were unnerving. “We have complete faith in you, Cyrus. You know how much this Mexican facility means to the company.”

  “What do you really want, Sandler?” Cy no longer had the energy to force politeness. Right now he hated everything about Champion.

  “We’re beginning to lose faith that you will be able to influence your wife, so we’ve come up with another option. We would still like to promote you.”

  “Face it, Sandler, at this point you have to promote me.”

  “Don’t push it, Tyler. We will, but we’re moving you to Manufacturing.”

  “Manufacturing?” It was a much less visible position and a political slap in his face. Cy paused and then continued. “Sandler,” he said, “I need to understand something. If you’re about to move me to Manufacturing, why the hell am I being sent to Mexico now? This isn’t business; this is personal. You’re trying to separate me from my wife when you know she’s under a lot of pressure.”

  “Cyrus,” Sandler said calmly, “you’re not acting like yourself. Take it easy. I’m sure Thyme’s lawsuit has put an unfair burden on you.”

  Cy took a deep breath. It was too late to stop now. “So I’m stressed! Why?” Cy laughed bitterly.

  “Cy, watch yourself. You of all people know how much change we’re going through. You are not invulnerable. You are part of a team.”

  Cy was fuming. “What fucking team? Fuck you and your team!” Cy clicked his briefcase shut and walked past Sandler, not looking back.

  An hour later, Cy was at the airport. Cy realized he could be fired, but it would be better if he resigned.

  Thyme had been right all along. White did prevail, and he was sick of it. But how could he make up for generations of wrongdoing? There was no way. The only thing he could do was show Thyme how much he loved her.

  He called her office from the plane. Thyme wasn’t there. His heart sank like the
Titanic they’d seen on the stage. Maybe she’d gone home early. He dialed home again and again. Still no answer. Home. Thyme was home. She represented all he knew as home. She was all that mattered in his life. Sydney could find another husband. She could get another business partner. He would never again in life find another woman like Thyme, and he didn’t want to lose her. He dialed her again.

  At that moment he knew he would have to sever his ties with Graciella. Children. Affairs. Sex. Secrecy. No more. Although he cared for her, his history with Graciella had to end. Now he knew he could summon the strength to give up his honeytrap. He’d been greedy and selfish, and he had hurt many people in the process.

  Cy called his wife one last time using the plane phone attached to the seat in front of him.

  No answer. Where are you?

  Even without you here beside me, I can still feel your sweet caress. Taste your tenderness. Moving, so sweetly together, to satiate each other’s needs. All I want to do is to hold you in my arms and feel us caress each other, silently. Feeling the silence envelope us in a deeper realm than we ever felt before.

  I love you, Thyme. More now than ever before. You’re more precious to me than all the jewels in Krandall’s jewelry store. I don’t want to lose you. Maybe I didn’t make it plain before. But it’s time you knew.

  You’re irreplaceable.

  23

  __________

  Khan knew that the saying was “Thank God it’s Friday,” but all she could muster was “Thank God’s it’s Wednesday, because I might not make it until Friday.” The weatherman said that today, August 26, had broken the old record of a hundred and one degrees in 1929. It was so hot in the plant today many of the workers had left early. Now Khan knew why they called them the dog days. Regardless, she and Valentino had put in twelve hours and were finished by two o’clock. They were hot, musty, funky, and tired.

  It may have been a hundred and one degrees outside, but it was nearly a hundred and fifteen in the plant—a great day to go to the beach. Khan hadn’t been to the beach all summer and was looking forward to going. She had made plans to meet Valentino, Sarah, and the baby at MacArthur’s statue on Belle Isle by four-thirty. They’d still have plenty of time to relax, eat, and chill out in the water before they all had to haul ass home to get a good night’s sleep so they could do it all again tomorrow.

  Sweat continued to pour off Khan’s brow as she stepped outside the plant. Damn, this must be what hell feels like, she thought, putting on her sunglasses. By the time she made it to the employee parking lot she felt light-headed. Just as she was opening her car door, she noticed Daddy Cool standing against the rear entrance of the building.

  Daddy Cool was a young sixty-three-year-old maintenance worker who always smiled. He had reason to. Because of his age and “disabilities,” Daddy Cool worked just two hours a day cleaning the plant.

  Daddy Cool had everyone fooled. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He often kidded with Khan that his job was so easy that he would probably retire around age eighty.

  “Daddy Cool!” she hollered. He didn’t hear her. Getting inside her car, she started the engine, letting it idle for a minute, then pulled up to the door. “Hey there, old man, it’s hot out here. You waiting for a ride?”

  He grunted and muttered something profane as he staggered with his cane to her car. Resting his hand on her opened window, he said, “My ride must’ve came to the wrong entrance. They were supposed to be here by one-thirty.”

  It was ten after two now. “Get on in. I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Baby girl, you don’t know where I live.”

  “I know you live on the west side. That can’t be too far from me. Look, it’s hot, and if you don’t get in right now I’m going to leave your crippled butt here.”

  When Khan let Daddy Cool out, she was surprised to see where he lived. It was a fairly new subdivision roughly five miles from her condo. Not bad, Khan thought. Daddy Cool must have saved his pennies. As she was backing out of the driveway, she noticed Buddy and three teenage boys in the next-door driveway, washing his car. She stopped and rolled down the window.

  “Hi there. It’s too hot to wash a car today. Too cheap to go to a car wash?”

  Buddy smiled. “I don’t frequent car washes. I prefer to wash my own car.” He squatted down to wash his rims. “Are you following me? How did you know where I lived?”

  “I bribed your aunt Viola,” she kidded.

  Knowing he was probably too young to have sons that age, she asked, “Are the boys yours?”

  “No.” He came toward her car. “I’m a volunteer at Big Brothers. But today the guys volunteered to help me wash my car; otherwise they’d refused to ride in it again.”

  Coo points for you, she thought. “Hey, nice seeing you. I gotta go.”

  “Don’t leave yet. C’mon inside. I’ve got a pitcher of lemonade in the refrigerator.”

  “I’m going to the beach. I’ll see ya’.” She had started to pull off when she saw him waving his arms in the rearview mirror.

  “Wait! Wait!” He was out of breath from running after her. “Care for company?”

  “I don’t know.” Khan hesitated, not sure that she wanted to mix a new friend with her family.

  When he smiled, his perfect white teeth looked like a Rembrandt toothpaste ad. They positively sparkled in the white sunlight. It was the first time she’d really taken an honest look at him, and he was certainly cuter than she remembered.

  “Look. We’re just friends, okay? Friends have as much fun as lovers. Hey, I can bring my own blanket, towel, and food. And I can be ready in fifteen minutes.” That pretty smile again.

  “Okay, but if you’re late I’m leaving you.” She put the car in Park, kept the air conditioner on.

  Buddy suggested that he drive. His pickup truck was indeed more practical than Khan’s compact car. They arrived at Belle Isle at four-twenty. Valentino and his wife and son were already there.

  Jahvel made the introductions first. He ran toward Buddy and grabbed his bare legs. “Hi!”

  Buddy scooped Jahvel up in his arms and rolled his knuckles softly around Jahvel’s fat cheeks. The baby giggled and cooed.

  “I think he likes you,” Valentino said, laughing.

  “Hi, I’m Sarah.” Sarah introduced herself and the baby to Buddy. Sarah rarely made small talk, let alone introduced herself. Khan noticed the proud look on Valentino’s face as he listened to his wife brag about their child to Buddy. Khan was impressed by Buddy’s relaxing influence.

  “I hate to interrupt y’all, but fellows,” she said, directing her conversation to the men, “one of you get the fire started, and the other unload the truck. Otherwise we’ll never eat.”

  While the men got busy, Khan and Sarah spread out the tablecloth over the picnic table and began setting out the food. A short time later, steaks were sizzling on the grill with foiled potatoes and ears of corn layered against the sides. Exhausted from playing with Buddy in the water, the baby had fallen asleep.

  Khan and Sarah went to the rest room to change into their bathing suits, while the two men chatted away. Strange, she thought, Buddy seemed so comfortable with her family. R.C. never had—the few times he’d met them, anyway. While they were in the bathroom Sarah surprised Khan by speaking up again.

  “Did you know that Ida threatened to put Ron out? He didn’t come home at all last weekend. She thinks he spent the weekend with his woman. They’ve been fighting and arguing about it ever since.”

  Was it Elaine? That bitch. Could it have been Luella? “So, it’s gotten that serious?” Khan remembered what she had seen at the July Fourth barbecue. She hadn’t realized it was still going on.

  “Ron is so paranoid he accused Tino of siccing Luella on me. Tino cussed his father and then Ron went after Tino.”

  Khan tied the side knot on her cover-up. “What did Tino do?”

  “He told Ron that if he ever touched him or his mother again, he’d kill him. And Khan,
Tino ain’t kidding. It scares me.”

  “Ron’s a dog,” Khan said slowly, trying not to cuss around Sarah. “I’ve got to do something about this. I’m not sure what yet. But I’ll figure something out.”

  * * *

  Thursday turned out to be hotter than Wednesday. It was so muggy inside the plant, it was no wonder everyone’s nerves were on edge. When the plant reached a certain temperature, the company provided tanks of cold lemonade for the workers in every break area. Today no one cared. By nine-thirty the vats had barely been tapped. Everyone wanted to get their work done and get the hell out of there by lunchtime.

  Khan’s mind drifted to Buddy as she went back to her unit. While they were at the beach, he’d told her that he owned his own shortening company. It was a small business, but it was building. She’d had no idea that he was the third-generation owner of a family-owned business. He seemed so low-key. Khan wondered what else lay beneath the surface of his beautiful smile.

  As soon as Khan got back from the break, she was flanked by five workers from two other units. “We got trouble, girl.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Khan asked.

  They took her down to the far end of the plant. Two midsize car lines were being dismantled. The people who worked in the units were being sent home by their supervisors. Nobody was told why.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Khan said out loud. Where was Thyme? Khan felt a rush of anger toward her friend. She’s probably so caught up in winning her lawsuit she’s forgotten about her real job, Khan thought.

  Khan stopped by the closest break area and dialed Thyme’s office. Elaine told her that Thyme would be out of the office until Monday.

  Meanwhile, back in the unit, like nothing else in the world was happening except their greedy asses, Luella and Valentino were back to their same tired routine. Their supervisor, Allister, was turning purple he was so mad.

  “Look, Luella,” he shouted, “Valentino’s working the overtime tomorrow. And that’s it. Take your grievances up with Ron.” He stormed off.