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need the whole week off. And if Ron knows what’s good for his ugly behind, he won’t piss me off.
    â€œMaybe we should’ve called first, Celeste.”
    â€œWhy? So she can lie to us and say she has an upset stomach? We both know better than that, Portia.”
    No one came to the door so Portia rang the bell again. “You think she’s in there?”
    Celeste walked to the garage door and stood on her tippy toes to look inside the window. She came back to the front door. “Ron’s car is gone but Ginger’s is in there.”
    Portia called Ginger’s home number from her cellular phone. She and Celeste could hear the telephone in the living room ringing. After the fourth ring, Ginger’s answering machine picked up. Portia disconnected the call and dialed Ginger’s cellular number. Her call was immediately sent to Ginger’s voicemail.
    â€œHer cell phone is not on, Celeste. I’m starting to get nervous because something isn’t right.”
    Celeste took Portia’s cellular phone from her hand and dialed Ginger’s home number again. After the greeting, Celeste talked to the answering machine. “Ginger, it’s me and Portia. We’re outside on the porch. Can you please open the door? We’re not leaving until you do. We saw your car in the garage, Ginger. We know you’re in there.” Celeste disconnected the call, gave Portia her phone, and rang Ginger’s bell profusely.
    Ginger slowly opened the door. Portia and Celeste saw her face and both of their mouths fell open.

Chapter 3
    Lying in the Bed I Made
    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?”
    â€œWhile 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.”
    â€œI’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