Grace After Midnight_ A Memoir - Felicia Pearson [42]
Wasn’t no one’s fault. If the assholes who run this car plant wouldn’t give me a break, I’d find someone who could. I’d keep my attitude positive. I’d think about the things that Uncle told me. I’d think about all the prayers that Mama and my godmother Denise said for me.
I’d go back out there and find another job.
“Glad you’re not discouraged,” the guy at the employment agency said to me.
“Not discouraged,” I told him, “just determined. Determined to get something and keep it.”
At first he didn’t have anything, but I kept going back.
A week passed. Then two.
Finally, when I went the third time, he was smiling.
“Found something for you, Snoop,” he said.
“I knew you would,” I said. “I’m about to luck up.”
LUCKED UP OR
FUCKED UP?
Back at Grandma’s House, they called it Job Readiness. They made a big deal of it. I took the shit seriously and wound up working at the car plant. After I got jacked up at the car plant, it took a little minute to clean up my attitude.
But I did.
I was back on the positive tip. I was ready to take this job the employment agency was offering at some book warehouse.
“What do I have to do?” I asked the guy.
“Haul boxes. Heavy ones. That bother you?”
“Fuck no.”
First day of the gig, Mama fixed me another big breakfast. She prayed on me. She said, “Lord, thank you for blessing this child with your grace. Thank you for touching her heart with your love.”
I caught the bus. I was back in the workforce. I’d gotten out of the Cut in July. Now it was September. The weather was still warm, the world still looking good to me. I couldn’t help but remember back to how it was inside Grandma’s House. Those bars, those bricks, those endless days, endless weeks, endless months and years.
Hell, I was grateful to be sitting on a bus, a free woman with a new job.
Foreman was a white cat. Nice enough. He presumed I was strong or I wouldn’t be there—and he was right. I lifted the heaviest boxes they had. I hauled the shit all day long until one guy looked at me and said, “Girl, you stronger than two of us.” I just nodded.
I got through the first day fine.
That night I went out to Buns, a club up on Lexington and Green. It was a mixed club, gay men and women, and since I got out of jail I had noticed how many more gay women were out of the closet. I had had me a couple of little romances, but nothing permanent. I wasn’t interested in permanent. I was interested in celebrating the fact that I got another job. I was sipping on wine when a gal came up to me, real aggressivelike, and started talking. I don’t like aggressive. I ignored her, but she got loud and testy. I could see she might be trouble. When she started cussing me, I ignored her. I’d learned my lesson about getting into it with crazy bitches. I moved on. Went home and went to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.
Tomorrow brought another challenge. Cat at work came up to me and said, “What’s a skanky bull dyke doing working at a place like this?”
I just looked at the motherfucker. My eyes said, Fuck with me and I’ll cut your nuts off, but my mouth didn’t say shit. I kept doing what I was doing.
That didn’t satisfy him.
“I hate dykes,” he said. “Women ain’t got no business eating pussy.”
I kept on loading.
He kept on provoking, saying all sorts of raunchy shit.
I wanted to go upside his side so bad I could hardly contain myself. But I did. I pretended the asshole wasn’t even there.
Finally, when he shoved me real hard, I was about to lose it and knee him in the balls. That’s when God or good luck stepped in. The foreman was walking by, heard what the guy was saying, and fired his ass, right then and there.
Things were changing for me. The timing was good.
The job was good. I liked working in the warehouse more than the factory. Wasn’t as loud. No sharp parts to cut your hands. Plus, other than the asshole who’d been dogging me, nicer people. Even made a couple of friends.
Life was finally taking a good turn. The days were going by. The nights were calm. The weekends could be fun, especially if I got lucky on Saturday—all girls