Blue Collar Blues (16 page)

“Cy?” There were a million things she wanted to say, to ask, none of which would ease the pain she felt.

His handsome face smiled at her as he slammed the trunk, storing the small pieces of luggage, then jumped into the car and started the ignition. “What, Thyme?”

“Nothing.” She felt her heart sink. For some odd reason, she felt a sense of abandonment. “Call me.”

Thyme felt too troubled to cry. Tears wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t get into bed until midnight. And when she did, the sight of his empty side of the bed made her ache with loneliness.

Just as she went to dial Khan’s number, the phone rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Sydney, Thyme. Is Cy there?”

Thyme felt her body cringe like a cat about to fall in a pool of water. “He’s away.”

“Where’d he go?”

Again, her body shivered. That demanding tone. Thyme hated it. “He’s out of the country. He’ll be back next week.”

“Do you have the number where he can be reached? Graham’s not feeling well.” Graham was Sydney’s three-year-old son.

“Can’t this wait until he gets back? Cy
is
away on business.”

“But his family means more to him than his stupid job. Now are you going to give me the number or not?”

Her voice was firm. “I’ve made it clear, Sydney, that this can wait until Cy gets back. I’m sure Graham will be fine. Why don’t you call his father?” Jarrod, Sydney’s fourth ex-husband, lived in London.

“That’s none of your business. Really, Thyme, I’m disappointed in you. You know better than to cross me. Cy’s not going to appreciate hearing about this when he comes home. I really don’t think you’ve learned your place yet. Have you?”

Thyme felt the hard click penetrate every vein in her body.

“Bitch. You white bitch!” Thyme shouted to the empty room, all her anger and frustration from one day falling into her rage at Sydney.

__________

Cy took the shuttle from Mexicali Municipal Airport to the Hertz rental car station, still somewhat disoriented from the turbulence of the flight. He found the lettered spot where his midsized vehicle was parked and popped the trunk to put in his luggage. Ordinarily Champion provided a car and driver to pick up executives at the airport and take them to the hotel, but Cy had always declined. He liked to have the freedom to move around as he pleased. He’d requested a Champion car but none were available. Good news for the company!

As Cy drove to town, he noticed the sparkling new Chevrolet Suburbans passing him. Most of Mexico’s new elite were politicians and drug dealers, and their burly bodyguards were never far behind. Meanwhile, ragged laborers roamed the cobblestone streets of Matamoros, sipping
pulque,
a cheap fermented drink, from plastic cups.

American cars were as popular as ever. Especially trucks. Chevrolet Suburbans? Lincoln Navigators? Hell yes! But there didn’t seem to be as many Champion Illusion trucks. The FM radio waves thundered with U.S. rock-and-roll and rap. He knew from all the time he spent there that Mexican television was inundated with shows like
New York Undercover
and
Murder She Wrote.
American feature films packed the theaters. What was next? he wondered. A women’s basketball team?

Cy parked his red Taurus in the Radisson’s rear parking lot and paused to listen to an interview on the radio. “I’m not ashamed to say that I prefer U.S. products over Mexican ones,” said Tiara Navarro, who was introduced as a housewife who loved to shop at Wal-Mart. “They’re better made,” she finished. What was Mexico coming to?

Certainly it was not the way he remembered it from the early years he’d spent here. Had he changed—or had Mexico? Where was that boy who had met and fallen in love with the beautiful Mexican girl? So much was different now.

Cy checked into the hotel, then waited until Frederico, the clerk he was used to doing business with, came on duty. “My calls—”

“I know, Mr. Tyler. They are to be forwarded to the usual number.”

Eleven years earlier, Cy had had a private line installed in the home he shared with Graciella. It was just after Juana was born.

He drove away from Matamoros on the highway that ran parallel to the rolling hills. Graciella and their children resided about thirty miles south in a growing suburban area. As he drove, he admired the beauty of the countryside. With his window open, the unique smell of Mexico emanated from primitive family-run cafés, which were nothing more than exterior kitchens with crude tables. The aroma of dried jalapeño peppers, so different from anything Michigan had to offer, filled the air. It brought him back to old times. Good times.

Cy thought back to the first time he and Graciella got together. Always he remembered first the yellow ribbon fixed to her jet black hair. He’d been a skinny kid of nineteen working for General Motors, and Graciella had been just fifteen. They’d had so much fun together. She was shy but he had brought her out. They enjoyed going to the bullfights, eating tacos, and then making love. Cy was not a virgin, but he’d never experienced such warmth and passion as he’d found in the arms of Graciella.

When he returned several summers later on company business, Cy told Graciella that he loved a woman back home and they would soon marry.

For the next several years, he tried not to contact Graciella when he traveled to Mexico on business, but after they both began working for Champion, he would see her at the plant. They continued to be drawn to each other, and eventually Cy was unable to resist the temptation. And then Graciella became pregnant with Juana.

Back home, Thyme had finished her Ph.D. dissertation over three years since. She’d put off having children, and Cy had come to the conclusion that she never wanted them. That was more than eleven years ago. Juana was turning twelve soon, and their son, Gregor, was almost eight.

He had no idea where the years had gone. Maybe each year the affair continued with Graciella, he lost one with Thyme.

Cy knew he should have ended their relationship before Graciella became pregnant again—either that or told Thyme the truth. But he couldn’t leave Thyme. He loved her. Not even the birth of his son almost eight years ago had diminished his love for Thyme. How could he reconcile the love and passion he felt for both women? He had married the most beautiful woman in the world—Thyme—a woman who captured his soul, quenched his thirst, and made beautiful love to him. Yet there was still something missing, something he seemed to find with Graciella. But soon, he knew, one of the relationships had to end. And in his heart he knew it would be Graciella he had to leave—in spite of their children, whom he loved deeply.

In recent months, Cy had been preparing for this break with Graciella. In fact, with the promotion he was counting on, he would no longer have to come down to Mexico on business. He would make a renewed commitment to Thyme and never be unfaithful again.

Cy knew that with Champion essentially shutting down its trim operation in the United States, his job would shrink. He had to get out of Trim, and Cy was counting on being promoted to Plastics, covering all of North America. After twenty-five years he was still devoted to Champion, even though Sydney insisted that it was time for Cy to think bigger and leave Champion. Sydney had continually offered him a partnership in her Champion dealerships. His annual salary, she said, would triple what he made now at Champion.

He thought back to their conversation just the other day, when she told him about the upcoming merger. Champion planned on replacing its St. Louis dealerships with several superstores. The plan was the closest any of Detroit’s Big Four had come to regaining control of the sale of their automobiles from a network of long-established dealerships. According to Sydney, she was sitting in the catbird’s seat. In order for the Big Four to accomplish this, they had to settle with the current dealerships—like Sydney’s. He could almost hear her meow at the amount of money she figured Champion would offer to purchase her dealerships. She was certain it would be so high she couldn’t afford not to sell.

The plan had to be approved by the city’s twenty-two Champion and Atlantic-Pacific dealers. Sydney and R.C. Richardson’s combined dealer ownership in the metro area amounted to twelve. Their compliance was critical. The superstores and a network of auto care service centers would be owned by a newly created company that Champion would control. Several of the big dealers, like Richardson and Sydney, would then retain an equity interest in the company.

Cy hadn’t mentioned any of this to Thyme, of course, upon Sydney’s insistence. Anyway, Cy wasn’t ready for that big a change yet. First things first. Now he had to focus on cleaning up his life with Graciella.

When he arrived at his modest home in Reynosa, Graciella was waiting for him, having taken the day off work. She looked beautiful. No, irresistible. Her full face was tanned a deep brown. Her voluptuous figure was as ripe as the sap that turns to nectar in the velvet of the peach. Hundreds of twinkling dark curls caressed her brows, cheekbones, lips, and neck. He allowed himself one embrace, mindful that before the visit was ended he would break her heart.

“I’ve missed you, Cy. I’m so glad you’re here. The children can’t wait to see you.”

“Graciella, we need to talk.”

“Nonsense. Stop being so serious all the time.” She touched the lines around his eyes and smiled. “It’s making you old.”

Cy withdrew her hands from his face and held them in his. “But I am serious, Graciella. This is something not to take lightly.”

She pulled away. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow, Cy? After all, we’ve got days and days.”

And nights too.
Cy couldn’t stop envisioning them together in bed: Graciella’s huge, chestnut-brown nipples. Sweet sweat dripping off their nude bodies as they moved together, satisfying their own needs first, then each other, and finally cresting their pleasures together as one. He was afraid to lose the pleasure of such an intense lover.

Just then, Juana and Gregor came tumbling into the room. Seeing his children always brought tears to his eyes. Juana resembled both her parents, whereas Gregor was all Graciella in face and body, but borrowed his father’s china blue eyes. Cy made a silent promise to himself to treat them right and always be there for them, even if he wasn’t their mother’s lover any longer.

Dinner was a feast. Tamales, filled with fruit, chicken, pork, and beef, were warming on the stove.

Graciella placed a heaping helping of Cy’s favorite dish before him: shredded pork tamales seasoned with slivers of jalapeño peppers and studded with raisins. He thought his belly would burst. It was the closest he came to feeling like a kid again. But that didn’t prevent him from taking one last tamale before leaving the table.

Later, in the living room, Gregor had fallen asleep on his lap. Throughout the evening, Juana seemed quiet, almost hostile toward Cy. But he didn’t want to press her. She was entering puberty and Cy knew she was sensitive. But when Juana took her brother’s hand to take him to bed, Cy couldn’t miss the disdain in her overly polite voice as she said, “Good night, Father. Sleep well.”

Graciella had been in the bedroom, laying out Cy’s clothes for work the next day, and hadn’t heard the exchange.

“Come, Cy,” she called out. “It’s time for bed.”

Reluctantly, Cy entered Graciella’s bedroom. The lights were dimmed, and fresh flowers scented the air. She wore a short orange nightgown and sat poised on the side of the bed, her skin glowing like the sunset.

He moved toward her, his clothes suddenly feeling hot on his back. Stopping a few feet in front of the bed, he met her eyes as he spoke. “I can’t do this anymore, Graciella.”

Suddenly he could hear Thyme’s voice saying “Call me tonight” as he’d driven away from the house last night. He felt awful that he had only left a message on their answering machine before leaving the hotel. And for the first time he could remember, Cy felt a numbness in his penis.

“But why? I don’t ask you for much. Is the love we feel for each other so wrong that we cannot share it?”

Cy turned away. “No more, Graciella.”

“I don’t believe you. You care for me. And it’s not just because of the children.”

He could feel himself weakening. She spoke the truth. “It’s late. We both have to go to work in the morning.” Cy, trying to hang on to his resolve, started to leave the room.

“Where are you going?”

“To sleep on the couch.”

“Nonsense, Cy. You can sleep here with me.” Her voice was tempting, alluring. “I won’t touch you.”

If he gave in, he knew a worse hell awaited him.

“Please stay with me tonight,” she pleaded.

“No, Graciella,” he said firmly. He retired to the couch in the living room. Later, as he lay in his shorts and covered with a thin sheet on the sofa, he could hear her weeping softly throughout the night.

* * *

The following day Cy had a meeting at the Champion plant in Matamoros. He and Graciella rose at dawn and drove to the facility, which was just fifteen minutes away. Graciella had barely spoken to him. Her shift started at 6:00 A.M. Over the twenty years they’d known each other, Cy had helped Graciella move from sewing operator to supervisor.

Just outside the plant, they passed through a small town, built by Champion to stop the exodus of their unskilled employees. The employees in Mexico could, and often did, periodically quit their sewing jobs at Champion because they knew they could come back next week and get rehired. They could quit again the following week and come back a month later. In America, if you quit, there was no coming back.

Unskilled Mexican workers were notorious for obtaining training from the American-run factories and fleeing across the border to America for a job that paid more than four times as much.

Partly because of the irregularity in the workforce, the quality of product from the Matamoros facility had deteriorated during the past three months. The trim parts were being rejected by the assembly plants, and it was Cy’s job, as division manager of Trim, to intervene. At this point, Champion could not afford to have any slowing in Mexican production. For the life of him he couldn’t understand how the Mexican supervisors, including Graciella, allowed the workers to turn out so much garbage.