Damsels in Distress

Ginger lay on her living room sofa in excruciating pain. Celeste held a Ziploc bag filled with ice cubes against her black, swollen, and completely closed left eye while, at the same time, Portia pressed ice cubes against Ginger’s bruised ribs where Ronald had kicked her. They listened as Ginger told them what happened the night before.

A single tear dripped from Portia’s eye as she tended to her best friend. “Ginger, why do you continue to let this happen?”

The pressure they applied to Ginger’s broken body was extremely painful. Each time Celeste or Portia touched her, she winced and moaned. Her upper lip was swollen and bloody. “It was my fault, Portia. I should’ve known better.”

Portia looked at Celeste’s face because she knew the crap was getting ready to hit the fan.

Celeste snatched the bag of ice from Ginger’s face and frowned. She shouted, “What the heck did you just say, Ginger?”

Portia grabbed Celeste’s hand. “Celeste, please calm down.”

Celeste snatched her hand away and glared at Portia. “You don’t tell me to calm down. I wanna know why she feels that this is her fault.” Celeste looked at Ginger’s swollen eye, the Band-Aid above her right cheek, and the bruise on the side of her stomach that represented possible broken ribs. “How is this your fault, Ginger, and what happened to your jaw?”

“While Ron was rolling my face in the peaches on the counter, the lid from the can sliced my face. But had I made sure the peaches were in heavy syrup, this never would’ve happened.”

Celeste dropped the bag of ice on the floor and sat down on one of the chaise chairs. “I don’t believe this.”

Ginger painfully sat up. “Celeste, I need you to understand.”

Celeste glared at Ginger. “Understand what? How stupid you are?”

Ginger was offended. “So, I’m stupid now?”

Celeste gave a sarcastic chuckle. She shrugged her shoulders. “You must be.”

“I’m just trying to get you to understand my situation.”

Celeste held up her right hand to silence Ginger. “You know what, Ginger? For the sake of our friendship, I suggest you not say that to me again because I will never understand why you continue to let a man, who ain’t even your husband, live in your house and treat you like you’re worthless.”

Portia knelt in front of Ginger and looked deep into her eyes. “Honey, Ronald has brainwashed you. He’s got you making sure that there’s no toothpaste left in the sink after you brush your teeth. He makes you iron his drawers. Now, who do you know irons drawers, Ginger? Do you remember the time he knocked your tooth out because you forgot to raise the toilet seat after you used the bathroom? Don’t you think that’s extreme? Your toilet seat, Ginger. The one that’s in your house, in your bathroom, has to stay up at all times.”

“And do you remember getting up in the middle of the night to pee and you fell down in the toilet and cracked your funny bone when your elbow hit the wall?” Celeste asked Ginger. “That fool wouldn’t even get up to take you to the emergency room. Me and Tony had to get out of our beds at three in the morning.”

Tears were running down Ginger’s face. “I know Celeste, but—”

“But nothing, let me finish. Ever since you’ve been with Ron your life has been a living hell. You lost a baby at the hands of that creep. Your nose has been fractured. He dragged you through the house by your hair. He snatched an earring out of your ear. Who took you to the hospital and sat in the waiting room while your ear was sewn together? Me and Portia, that’s who.

“Today, you have a black eye, a busted lip, a cut on your face that may leave a permanent scar, and your ribs may be broken. So, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me why you feel the need to stay with this man.”

The words were effortless for Ginger to say: “Because I love him.”

Celeste jumped to her feet and screamed, “Oh my God. You’re so freakin’ stupid. You know what? I’ve heard enough. I’m out of here.” Celeste looked around the living room for her purse.

Portia ran to Celeste to keep her from walking out of the front door. “Celeste, please don’t go. She needs us.”

“No, Portia. What she needs is a freaking psychiatrist.”

Ginger slowly stood while holding her side. Her entire body felt as if she had been hit by a bus. “If she wants to leave, Portia, let her leave. I don’t need her here.”

Celeste rushed to Ginger and stood in her face. She spat her words out. “I came because I was worried about you. You dumb broad.”

“You don’t need to worry about me!” Ginger screamed. “I’m three times seven plus six. That means I’m grown, fully grown. What you need to do, Celeste, is worry about your own life and concentrate on why you can’t get pregnant instead of trying to tell me what to do and how to live my life. I got this. Okay? Stay out of my business and focus on your own problem.”

Portia gasped loudly. Her mouth dropped wide open. She and Ginger both knew that was a sensitive subject for Celeste. Portia couldn’t believe that Ginger had uttered those words. She came and stood between them. “Okay, you two. Stop it right now.”

It was too late. Ginger opened up Pandora’s box and Celeste was fired up and ready to go head to head with her. She ignored Portia and looked at Ginger. “I know you didn’t go there, Ginger.”

Ginger wasn’t intimidated at all. “Yes, the heck I did. It doesn’t take a specialist to tell you why you can’t conceive. You know why.” Ginger’s neck danced. “We all do.” She looked at Portia. “Don’t we?”

Portia didn’t answer. Her heart beat at an alarming rate. Her eyes darted back and forth between Celeste and Ginger.

Ginger connected eyes with Celeste. “The only one who doesn’t know is Tony.”

Celeste’s eyes were the size of golf balls. It seemed as though all of the air had been vacuumed out of Ginger’s living room. Celeste struggled to breathe. She literally had to force air into her lungs. Her nostrils swelled with each breath she took.

“Ginger, don’t do this,” Portia begged. “You’re wrong.”

Celeste placed her open palm on Portia’s chest and pushed her back. Then she stepped closer to Ginger. As Celeste spoke to Portia, she looked into Ginger’s eyes. “Let her say what she’s gotta say.”

Portia stepped between them again. The three of them were sisters. She refused to allow Ginger and Celeste to fight. “Both of you calm down. Ginger, you need to apologize and shut the heck up.”

Ginger became defensive. “Why are you telling me to shut up? And what the heck do I gotta apologize for? I’m sick and tired of her acting like she’s Miss High and Mighty. She lives in the biggest glass house and is always the first one to throw a doggone stone.”

Ginger focused on Celeste’s eyes while speaking to Portia. “We all know that the abortion she got in Bebe’s basement with a coat hanger messed her up.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Celeste pushed Ginger’s chest and she fell backward onto the sofa. Ginger grabbed her side and screamed out in pain.

Celeste advanced toward Ginger. “You dirty heifer.”

Portia grabbed Celeste’s wrist and pulled her back. “Celeste, stop!”

She snatched her hand from Portia’s grip and looked at Ginger with tears in her eyes. “I thought you were my girl. The three of us swore, in high school, that we’d never mention that.”

Ginger sat on the sofa moaning from the pain in her side.

“She didn’t mean it, Celeste. She’s going through a lot right now.”

“So is everybody else, Portia!” Celeste snapped. “It’s time for you to stop babying and making excuses for her grown behind.” Celeste took it a step further with Portia. “And if you weren’t so busy screwing everybody’s husband, maybe we could get Ginger the help she needs. And why can’t you find your own man instead of breaking up happy homes?”

Portia was stunned. Why did Celeste turn on her? Portia felt that since she wasn’t sleeping with Anthony then Celeste should have nothing to say about the way Portia lived her life. “Let me tell you something, Celeste. This ain’t about me. And what I do is my business, not yours.”

“It is my business because I know I can’t trust you around my man.”

Ginger stood up holding her side. Things were getting out of hand. She, Portia, and Celeste were as close as sisters could be. Even though Portia enjoyed keeping company with married men, Ginger felt that Celeste’s comment to Portia was out of order. Portia loved both Celeste and Anthony. Ginger knew that Portia would never betray Celeste that way. “Okay, y’all. That’s enough.”

Portia snapped her head at Ginger. “You sit your crippled behind back down. All of this is your fault.”

“How is this my fault?” Ginger asked. “I didn’t call y’all over here. You just showed up, uninvited, like you always do. I have to constantly tell you and Celeste to stay out of my business. Every time I look up, you’re running over here trying to break down my door. I can handle my own problems and I suggest the two of you do the same. We all have issues. I ain’t the only one. Humph, looks to me like we’re all damsels in distress.”

Celeste looked at Ginger. “Well, you know what, damsel? You ain’t even gotta worry about me coming to your rescue ever again. Both you and Portia can kiss my behind.” Celeste found her purse on the cocktail table. She snatched it up and stormed toward the living room door.

Ginger was closely on Celeste’s heels. “How about you and Portia get the heck out of my house? And y’all can kiss my behind on the way out.” Ginger needed them to leave before Ronald returned home. She didn’t know where he had gone that morning. He told Ginger that he was going to make a run. That usually meant that he had gone to purchase drugs. If that was the case, Ginger knew he wouldn’t be gone much longer. Portia and Celeste had to leave so that she could straighten the living room to make it look as though no one had entered it.

Portia grabbed her purse and keys from the chaise chair she had sat on. She got to the door and swung it open then turned to look at Ginger. “I guess the next time that I see you will be at your funeral.”

“Get out of my house, Portia,” Ginger cried out.

Portia looked at Celeste. “I haven’t forgotten about your birthday next week. I’ll send you a Cabbage Patch doll. That’s the closest you’ll ever get to having a real baby.”

Portia tried to close the door behind her but Celeste caught it, swung it back open and yelled after her, “At least I got my husband to lean on. Whose husband will be in your bed tonight?”

“Could be yours,” Portia yelled over her shoulder as she walked down Ginger’s driveway. She got in her car and sped away.

Before Celeste left Ginger’s house, she turned to look at her. “You are not my sister. You’re dead to me. You hear me? You’re dead to me.” Celeste stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

Ginger’s world fell apart. She, Celeste, and Portia had had some major disputes in the past. But Ginger knew that time was so very different. Words were spoken that had never been spoken before. Words that were off-limits, taboo, and forbidden. Their bond had been broken. That day their friendship had been tested and failed. Their sisterhood had become nonexistent. After the showdown that had just happened, Ginger knew that it would take an act of God to bring her, Portia, and Celeste back together again.

She locked the front door and hobbled over to the living room window and pulled the curtain back. Portia was long gone but Ginger saw Celeste walking down the street. Tears flowed down Ginger’s cheeks.

She went into the bathroom to wash her face. In the vanity mirror, she looked at her eye and the bandage that covered the cut on her jaw. Her enlarged bloody lips resembled Marge Simpson’s. Ginger placed her face in her hands and cried. She was trapped in a situation that she desperately needed to get out of. But how could she do it without the help and support of her girls? Ginger knew that, no matter what, she had Jesus, and that’s who she called on. “My Lord, please help me.”

* * *

Portia drove around the corner and pulled over to the curb. She put the gear in park. She had just fought with her two best friends and she needed a minute to compose herself. Portia felt that fight was one hundred times worse than the fights that she, Celeste, and Ginger had had before. Portia couldn’t get over the words the three of them had used to purposely harm each other. Portia knew that Ginger’s bruises would eventually heal but the words spoken in hatred, among the three of them, would follow her to her grave. They would be with her forever.

Her cellular phone rang and Portia looked at the caller ID: GREGORY LAWSON 555-2174.

His wife must have a headache. It was time for Portia to perform her wifely duties without the benefits of being a wife. Portia didn’t live in a five-bedroom house surrounded by a white picket fence like Gregory’s wife did. Portia didn’t have access to Gregory’s bank account like his wife did. But he did offer Portia half of her rent and utilities as long as she was available for sex whenever he demanded. The first of May was approaching and rent was due. Portia had no choice but to return Gregory’s call and oblige him.

At that moment she realized that she couldn’t call on Celeste or Ginger to discuss how her life had turned out that way. Portia couldn’t lean on them to talk her out of doing what she knew was the wrong thing to do. Her friends had become her enemies. But Portia knew there was one person who would never turn His back on her.

She placed her face in her hands and cried out to Him. “My Lord, please help me.”

* * *

Celeste walked three blocks from Ginger’s house and sat on a bench to wait for the next bus. Tears ran down her face as she thought about what had just happened back at Ginger’s house. She and Portia had gone there to see about Ginger because Celeste had awakened with Ginger’s well-being heavy on her heart. When Diane told Celeste that Ronald had called off for Ginger that morning, Celeste knew her friend was in trouble and she had to get to her.

Celeste went over the events in her mind to try to figure out just how the situation had gone so wrong. At what point did a caring visit turn into an all-out brawl between her and her two best friends? The words that were said had cut each other deeply. Celeste knew that fight was worse than any other they’d had. Scabs had been snatched off of sores and old wounds had resurfaced. Too much damage was done and Celeste knew, deep down inside, that there was no turning back.

Suddenly she felt her menstrual cycle begin to flow. It was proof that no baby had been conceived over the weekend, and confirmation of what Celeste already knew but had yet to tell her husband. She was living a lie and her marriage would soon suffer if she didn’t confess to Anthony what had happened years ago in a dark, dingy, cold basement.

Celeste couldn’t cry on Ginger’s or Portia’s shoulders anymore. They weren’t there to console Celeste and encourage her to keep her head up and to keep the faith that her womb would someday bring forth a child. Celeste placed her face in her hands and cried. She called on her Heavenly Father. “My Lord, please help me.”