It was signed by both her grandfather and her grandmother, Albert and Diane Johnson.
“My Lord,” Bonnie said, looking again at the pictures, “these are your grandparents!”
Bonnie read the postscript. “‘Please contact us.’” Their telephone number was listed beside it.
“I . . . I . . . don’t know—” Tears caught in her throat.
“It’s okay, honey. You go ahead and cry.” And for a full five minutes she did.
Bonnie went to get tissues and when she returned, Tomiko was able to speak.
“You know, Bonnie, it’s odd. I haven’t thought about my father in years.” She sniffed, then wiped her nose. “My memory of him is so blurred it’s almost as if he never existed. But the letter and pictures prove that he did. I don’t hate my mother for the decision she made, but I do resent being denied a part of my heritage. I have never thought of myself as black before—my mother wouldn’t let me.”
“But you married R.C.,” Bonnie pointed out.
“Yes. But I don’t think I was so aware of why I was attracted to R.C. Now I feel like I have found some sort of key to myself.” Tomiko sighed in relief as she looked up hopefully at Bonnie.
“Tomiko,” Bonnie said, rising. “I think it’s best if you were alone now. You’ve got a lot to think about. Decisions to make. You sleep on it tonight, and if you want to, we’ll talk about it in the morning. Okay?”
Tomiko nodded, rising from Bonnie’s small bed. As she walked back to her own room, the tears once again formed in her eyes. Tomiko’s aloneness crashed around her.
Where are you, R.C.? Again I need you to hold me. And again you are not here.
__________
The day of the depositions had finally arrived and they were being held in the offices of Thyme’s attorney, Stephen Kravitz, who had subpoenaed several Champion division managers, including Cy’s boss, Sandler.
It was ten in the morning. They’d begun the depositions at nine. One by one, fifteen unwilling witnesses were being interrogated relentlessly by Thyme’s attorney. And as each witness gave his or her testimony, Thyme felt her hopes for winning wane.
Mary-Elizabeth Wright, who worked in Salaried Personnel, was now on the stand. Her brows were furrowed and her nostrils flared as if she smelled something foul each time she looked at Thyme.
“Could you please tell us, Ms. Wright, if there was an opening last year for the position of plant manager at an A plant in Lake Orion?”
“Yes, there was.”
“And who received that promotion?”
“Ed Bolton—”
“Whose previous position was . . . ?”
“He was an accounting mana—”
“And was a grade what?”
“Eleven.”
Stephen turned and faced the judge. “Let me preface my next question to Ms. Wright, Your Honor, by explaining the difference between an A plant and a B plant. The plant manager at an A plant is usually a grade fifteen or above; a plant manager at a B plant is a grade thirteen.”
Scratching his head, Stephen pondered his thoughts out loud as he turned back to the witness. “So you’re telling us this morning, Ms. Wright, that Champion Motors is in the business of hiring a grade-eleven accounting manager for the position of plant manager over my client, an experienced plant manager, who is a grade thirteen, for a grade-fourteen position at an A facility?”
“Well . . .” she began, stumbling.
“Your Honor, let me explain that my client presently is the manager at Champion’s Troy Trim plant, which is a B plant. The Lake Orion facility is an A plant that has approximately five thousand employees and over a million and a half square feet of manufacturing floor space. Because the pay scale for A plant managers is substantially higher than at a B plant, it would be advantageous for any employee trying to advance her career to seek employment at that facility.” Stephen turned back to Ms. Wright. “Aside from her obvious qualifications, could you explain to us to the best of your knowledge why my client was not even interviewed for this position?”
“Mrs. Tyler’s DIS reflected her preference for remaining at Troy Trim. Her unwillingness to relocate to another plant was the primary reason we didn’t consider her a candidate for a promotion at the Lake Orion facility.”
The DIS, the development interest survey, was filled out by every salaried employee. This survey was updated yearly by the employee and was crucial in determining whether he or she was eligible for a promotion.
Thyme was fuming.
How could Wright sit in front of my face and tell such a huge lie? Everyone knew I fought for that promotion at the Orion plant. Why would I give up a job fifteen minutes closer to my house that paid twenty-five thousand dollars more a year?
Sitting up tall in her seat, Thyme could see a small flutter of triumph flash across Mary-Elizabeth’s face. Thyme had known Mary-Elizabeth for over ten years. She’d always flirt with Cy at company picnics in front of Thyme, which infuriated Thyme and merely made Cy laugh.
Thyme wanted to cover her face with her hands so badly her eyes ached. She felt degraded and humiliated. But she sat there tall and proud while her heart and soul felt as if a volcano had erupted within her.
The depositions were signed and numbered as exhibits as each person Mr. Kravitz had subpoenaed gave testimony.
Next was a notice of deposition and request for production of documents. Thyme knew this was where she had Champion by the balls. Her friend Vicky Kress had come through with the documents that detailed all of the promotions of the salaried employees over the past fifteen years. Out of the two hundred seventy-five promoted, only one was black. There was no way Thyme would disclose her source of information, not even to Kravitz. The point was that the information was correct and that was all that mattered.
It was now eleven forty-five. Thyme knew they’d have to break for lunch soon. Stephen had just introduced plaintiff’s deposition exhibit number fifteen. Audrey Hall, a white woman who’d recently been promoted to a grade fourteen, was now being interviewed.
Thyme’s mind wandered. She knew the story. Audrey was Candice-Marie Avery’s niece and had been hired her first year out of the University of Illinois. Thyme had read her résumé. Audrey was no slouch, but she had very little hands-on business experience. Apparently that hadn’t gotten in her way to be promoted to manager of the Electronics Engineering Division.
When he finished with Audrey, Stephen came over and whispered in her ear. “Would you consider bringing your husband in? He could be crucial to our case.”
“No.”
“But he could supply us firsthand with the emotional damages that you—”
“Forget it, Stephen. It may or may not help our case. But it could destroy my marriage. No way am I calling Cy in to testify. If we can’t win with all these witnesses, let’s cut our losses and fold.” Thyme knew it wasn’t rational, but she couldn’t ask Cy to appear as a witness. She was still waiting for him to volunteer.
Thyme wished he had been there to support her. Though she knew she still loved him, she felt more distant from him than ever. How could they patch up their differences now? Was it possible? Does love really conquer all?
If I win or lose, Thyme thought, at least I tried. At least I showed these white folks that they can’t treat black people this way. We’ll fight back. They must think I’m a real fool if I sit back and let them promote people less qualified than me and think I won’t sue their ass for racial discrimination.
At this moment, Stephen was interviewing the last witness. All through the process Thyme had pointed out the contradictions or blatant lies in the testimonies of the witnesses. She’d say to Kravitz, “It didn’t happen like that. This is what really happened.” And Stephen would listen and come back with a slamming rebuttal. Looking over to her left, she could see that Champion’s attorney was coaching his witnesses as well.
What a joke. It was like everyone was playing a game of shuffleboard. You could move here. Then I’ll move there, and we’ll assess the situation. And finally whoever tossed out the best question would certainly win.
How stupid.
Stephen threw back his shoulders when the next witness took the stand. It was John Sandler, Cy’s boss.
“Mr. Sandler, are you familiar with Champion’s policy to promote only those employees that have attained a bachelor’s degree or higher?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Mr. Sandler, are you aware that some of your salaried employees in a grade nine or higher have merely an associate’s degree?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Mr. Sandler.” Stephen cleared his throat. “I’m told that you have a master’s degree in business management. Is that true?”
“I don’t recall.”
Stephen turned around and smiled at Thyme. “Is your name John Sandler?”
“I don’t recall.”
Champion’s attorney, Brian Manning, was so frustrated he tossed all his papers up in the air in disbelief.
This time Thyme met Stephen’s smile.
John’s arrogance and unwillingness to cooperate with Thyme’s attorney or even answer simple questions had lost him the case.
His pathetic smile was broader than Stephen’s; John Sandler
still
didn’t get it. He gave Champion’s attorney a bewildered stare and shrugged his shoulders.
* * *
Thyme whistled as she showered Saturday morning. Kravitz had assured her that there was no way Champion wasn’t going to settle. Thyme’s case had forced them into the corner. At that moment, Thyme felt that nothing could upset her today. Not even her husband’s distance.
But her joy was short lived. The devil was no idle spirit but a vagrant renegade that never stayed long in one place. Perhaps he’d followed her home from the courtroom on Friday and was trying to make his presence known today. The motive, cause, and main intention of his walking was to ruin her. Just before she opened her eyes this morning, one of the devil’s helpers must have shown up full of smoke and fire.
It was eighty-two degrees by six o’clock in the morning on this day in the second week of August. The humidity made it feel like a hundred. Even with the air conditioner set to kick on at seventy degrees, Thyme felt uncomfortable.
Cy was still asleep in the guest room. He’d managed to avoid her the entire week, and Thyme had been grateful. Each was hiding something from the other. But now, she thought, it was time to bring things out in the open—she felt she had very little to lose at this point.
She slipped into a cotton robe, pulled her hair into a ponytail, brushed her teeth, and started the coffee.
Moments later, the mind-awakening scent of fresh Colombian coffee filtered through the house. From the kitchen, she could hear Cy getting up as she removed two large rolls from the freezer.
“Cy!” she hollered a few minutes later. “The coffee’s brewing, and I’ve got cinnamon rolls in the microwave.” Cy was dressed only in boxer shorts when he came into the kitchen, his silver hair spiked in spots. “It’s muggy in here. Let’s have breakfast out on the water,” Thyme said, suddenly nervous.
Cy was still slowly awakening. “Mmm, smells good,” he said.
“They’re almost ready. So—are you coming?”
“Give me two minutes and I’ll meet you at the dock.”
Thyme balanced the coffee, rolls, newspaper, and napkins as she walked to the dock.
Catching up with her, Cy released the boat from the dock and jumped inside, then held out his arms for the breakfast tray. The seductive lure of the rhythmic waves was so relaxing that Thyme considered passing on the discussion and taking a quick nap.
There was only one other boat on the lake as they sipped their coffee. Thyme braced herself. She needed to hear from Cy’s own mouth if what Ron had told her about Troy Trim was true and whether Cy had known all along.
She spoke slowly. “Cy, I talked with Ron earlier this week. We were discussing the labor situation in Mexico. Tell me that it isn’t true that you’ve been personally involved with the Mexican facilities that sew Troy Trim’s stock.” Her eyes drilled into his before she spoke again. “Tell me that isn’t true, Cy.”
Thyme could see that he was struggling. A few moments later, he sat back against the pontoon’s gunwale.
“All I know is that some of the production is being shifted to Mexico. Champion has other plans for Troy Trim.”
“Other plans?” Thyme bored her eyes into his.
“Yes. Don’t worry; everything will be all right. Champion takes care of its own. The company is just trying to clear the way so that Troy Trim can develop new business.” Cy smiled now. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to accomplish, honey?”
“Cy, that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. You told me that Champion wasn’t going to do any outsourcing to Mexico.”
“Baby—”
The water around them began to lap the boat, creating a subtle motion. “I’m your wife, Cy. I’m not your baby. We should talk when we’ve both had more time to think.”
“I agree.”
Thyme realized in her heart that we hate some people because we do not know them; and we do not know them because we hate them. At that moment of revelation with her husband, she hated the Mexicans. She hated Champion Motors for lying—for making her husband lie to her. With all her heart, she did not want to hate her husband. Because after loving someone so much, her hatred toward him, she knew, would be far deeper than her love.
When Cy docked the boat and went into the house, Thyme had the worst cry she’d had in years.
What about me? What about us? Does that company mean more to us than we mean to each other?
A part of her didn’t want to know the answer. But one thing was clear: Cy had indeed lied to her.
The devil had had his day.
__________
“This was a mistake, Randy,” Luella said, frowning. She hadn’t noticed before how long his nails were. Nor how dirty. “Maybe you should take me back to my car.”
They were at Slappy Joe’s Bar on the corner of Seven Mile Road and Grand River Avenue. It was just past midnight on Saturday night and the bar had been steadily filling up since eleven. While he consumed shot after shot of Hennessy, Luella had kept watch on the door for fear that someone from the plant would recognize her. She’d met Randy one night after work in the parking lot; his car had a flat and she’d helped him.