“She could use a wheelchair,” I state.
“Over rough and muddy hiking terrain?” Dad shakes his head. “That’s not gonna work.”
“I’ve seen hiking wheelchairs,” I explain. “Like in magazines. I’ve seen them.”
Dad turns to Michelle. “Is that a real thing? A hiking wheelchair?”
Michelle smacks her lips. “They’re called all-terrain wheelchairs and they are thousands of dollars and need to be special-ordered. You can’t just go to a store and be all, ‘Hi, I’ll take one all-terrain wheelchair to go.’”
“We could loan you one of ours.” Jedidiah places his Palo Santo Holy Sticks on the coffee table.
“The church has an all-terrain wheelchair?” Dad asks in disbelief.
“We have two. We use them for a wonderful ministry that travels into the Old Growth Forest to receive blessings and energy transfers from the trees.”
“See, look!” I interrupt. “Now we have a hiking wheelchair. Everything is lining up for this. Maybe it is the voice of God I’m hearing. I mean, if God can talk to Moses, why not me?”
“Did you just compare yourself to Moses?” Michelle laughs. “Girl, you ain’t no Moses.”
“Who’s Moses?” Brandon asks.
“One of the three wise men,” Nam whispers.
Brandon nods. “Oh, that’s right.”
“Mom?” Violet interrupts. “Dad?”
“Yes, baby.” Mom rushes to Violet’s side and takes her hands in hers.
“Would it be okay if I spoke to you both...alone? In my room?”
“Of course, honey.” Dad moves to Violet, unlocks her wheelchair and slowly pushes her toward the back of the house. Mom follows close behind.
When the guest room door is heard being pushed shut, everyone turns to me. No one speaks. They only gaze, wide-eyed and seemingly...terrified. As if God himself is standing beside me and they don’t wanna piss him off.
At last Michelle breaks the awkward quiet by storming from the house, slamming the door as she goes.
* * *
It’s been about an hour of uncomfortable silence as we wait for Mom, Dad and Violet to return. Thankfully Michelle hasn’t come back yet either, though I keep glancing up at the front door, waiting for her to burst through it, screaming more expletives my way. My shoulder’s starting to cramp, so I scoot to the edge of the chair, remembering the doctor’s warning that I shouldn’t take off my sling. The La-Z-Boy squeaks like a dog’s plastic chew toy when I stand. All heads shift in unison. Horrified stares are tossed my way.
“I’m...going to the bathroom.”
“Is God going with you?” Nam swallows and scoots closer to Brandon on the couch.
“Nope. God’s not coming.” I back away slowly, staring at all of them as they stare at me. No longer able to take another second of their terrified gawking, I turn and literally run. At the end of the hallway, I push through the bathroom door, gratefully moving into the isolation of the small half bath. I glance up at the ceiling. “So? What happens now?”
I feel the door being pushed open from the other side.
“Hey, I’m in here.”
I turn to see a disheveled Michelle peeking her head through the crack in the door.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “I said I was in here.”
She steps inside the bathroom and twists the faucet nozzle. Loud water rushes down the drain as she shuts the door and locks it.
“Michelle, get out!”
She pushes me up against the wall.
“Hey!” I shout. She uses her thumb and forefinger to squeeze my nose shut. “What the—”
She takes her other hand and covers my mouth, pressing her body weight up against me. My eyes bulge, panicked. I can’t breathe.
Her knee pins my uninjured forearm to the wall. I struggle to push against her but I know she’s pregnant, and quite honestly (even though she’s trying to kill me), I don’t want to hurt her! She presses her shoulder into my recently dislocated one, sending pain searing through my entire body. My head pounds from lack of oxygen. I bang on the wall, hoping someone will hear.
God, help me!
Perhaps God’s reading my thoughts and got the message to download into Michelle’s homicidal brain stem because she immediately releases the hold she has on me and backs away to lean up against the sink.
I take in frenetic gulps of air. The entire ordeal must’ve lasted for only three seconds, but certainly the longest seconds of my life. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“How did that feel, Indigo?” she asks coolly, one hand over her belly.
“You’re a nutcase!” I scream. “A real-life demon from a Stephen King novel!”
“Stop saying weird shit and answer me! I wanna know how it felt.”
“You were trying to kill me! How do you think it felt?”
“Girl, please.” She snorts. “Ain’t nobody tryin’ to kill you. I wanted you to feel how Violet feels. That’s how she feels! And nothing makes it better. Nobody backs off and gives her room to breathe.”
I lean up against the wall, still gasping, heart racing furiously.
“She is terminal. Do you even understand what that means?”
“Stop...talking to me...like I’m a kid.” I’m still shaking. Still gasping.
“Then stop acting like one! There is no cure for her ailment. If you get it, you die. She will die. Respiratory failure,” Michelle goes on. “That’s her future. One day she will take her last breath and choke to death while she’s awake. Or maybe she’ll get lucky and die in her sleep. Would you like to drown, Indigo?”
I only stare at her in response since clearly drowning is not on my bucket list.
“That is what it will be like for Vee. It will be like drowning. It’ll be worse than drowning. Do you want us to watch her suffer and die the most painful death imaginable? Is that what you want?”
“Of course not. Y-you’re not understanding me, Michelle. I love Violet. I only want—”
“What?” She cuts me off. “What do you only want?” She stares at me. Patiently waiting for my answer.
I have so many words to speak in response, so many things to say in my defense. But I can only manage to hang my head, ashamed. The Voice said Michelle doesn’t like me because I challenge her when no one else does. But I’m no challenge to her. At least not a real one.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Indigo.” She steps forward. “But I’m about to enlighten you. You only want this so you can continue feeling whole. Without her, you’re... Danny DeVito in the movie Twins.”
I look up. “Who?”
“With Arnold Schwarzenegger? Never mind. Just admit that this isn’t about Vee. This is about your need to feel complete. You haven’t figured out how to be your own person. Because you don’t know who you are.”
Tears brim to the surface. I quickly wipe them away. Her words hit harder than a fastball to the gut. Didn’t I just admit to Susie Prouty that I’m a dying sun searching for another thing to be? Without being one half of the Indigo and Violet phenomenon, I’ll just be Indigo. And who exactly is that?
Michelle reaches into her jacket pocket and presents a new prescription bottle. My heart skips a beat. “I made a call. Was able to pull some strings at the pharmacy around the corner. She can continue with her plans today.”
“Michelle, you can’t give that to her!”
“Watch me.” She turns, yanks open the door.
“Well, I guess you win, huh? ’Cuz it’s always gotta be your way. Right, Michelle? Whatever makes you happy.”
Michelle turns back. “Not my way this time, Indigo. It’s Violet’s way.”
Hot tears blur my vision. “I’m hearing a voice. The voice says it’s God. I know you don’t believe me. But it’s true.”
“Oh, yeah? And what
’s God saying now? Give me one word from God. That’s all I’m asking. Give me one word and I’ll believe you.”
I listen. Hoping the voice doesn’t say something silly like hickory dickory dock or roses are red and eyeballs are blue. I wait. And wait. And wait.
“What’s the voice saying, Indigo?”
Tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t even bother to wipe them away. “Nothing.”
“Not surprising at all.” She moves through the door; it clicks shut after her.
I lean over the sink and look up at the ceiling. “You’ve always got so much to say!” I wail. “Couldn’t think to offer a word to Michelle?” I pound my fist onto the sink. “You just left me hanging! Why did you do that?”
The voice sighs. “Indigo.”
“Oh, welcome back! Now you want to speak?”
“You’ll learn this eventually. I know you will. The most important words...they have to come from you.”
“Whatever, okay? I’m not in the mood for your cryptic prose. Get out, please. I need to be alone.”
“Uh, where should I go? I exist in all places?”
“Fine. Don’t go anywhere. Just leave me alone, I guess.” I slump down onto the floor of the bathroom, curl into a ball around the toilet and cry my eyes out like I’m a toddler who just scraped her knee and is experiencing real pain for the first time.
That’s certainly what it feels like.
* * *
I must’ve fallen asleep wrapped around the toilet because a knock at the door startles me awake. I jump up when I hear Dad’s deep voice resonating through the thick wood door.
“Indigo?”
“Yes?” I stand and smooth out my wrinkled tank top.
“Everyone is in the den. Join us when you’re ready, hon.”
“Coming, Dad.” The weight of my cast feels like an anchor trying to pull me back down to the floor. I sneak a quick peek at myself in the bathroom mirror that’s mounted over the sink. I look worse than I did at the hospital, if that’s even possible, especially now that my eyes are swollen from crying. Note to self: avoid all mirrors for the time being. I swing open the door and move down the hallway, slowly shuffling my feet along the carpet runner. As I step into the den, I keep my eyes glued to the floor. My peripheral vision’s enough to let me know everyone is staring at me. I slide back into the La-Z-Boy chair. It squeaks.
“So...” Mom starts, standing beside Violet’s wheelchair, a hand resting on Violet’s shoulder. “Violet’s decided she wants to take the trip to the Wave after all.”
I look up. Jaw drops. Mind...blown.
A series of gasps erupts from the family.
It worked? Nothing that I do works. But Violet... I mean, she must believe me. She believes me?
“I do...have conditions,” Violet adds, almost as if she’s reading my mind.
I sit up on the edge of the La-Z-Boy. Of course it squeaks and everyone turns to stare at me some more. I ignore them and tap my feet on the floor in excitement.
“One. We leave tomorrow,” Violet articulates. “First thing in the morning.”
“Tomorrow?” I whisper excitedly to myself. My feet tap faster.
“Number two,” she goes on. “The whole family comes with. No exceptions. Everyone.”
“Everyone but us.” Michelle raises her hand. “Sorry. I’m not going. And the boys have school and Drew has work.”
“No, I don’t,” Drew admits. “Livewire just submitted the graphic proposal to PlayStation and none of the staff can do anything until we get our budget. I’m actually off. I could go.”
“Fine, Drew. Go if you want.” Michelle shrugs. “But the boys are staying here with me. They can’t miss school.”
“Why not?” Mom asks. “It’ll only be a couple of days. What are they gonna miss? Coloring and ABCs?”
“Grandma, I’m in the fourth grade.” Nam snorts. “We’re doing long division and fractions.”
Mom smacks her lips in response to Nam. “It’s all worksheets and recess. Y’all can miss a few days of school.”
“Yeah,” Brandon agrees. “All we do is go to recess.”
“No, you don’t,” Drew stresses. “You’re in school for seven hours a day. That’s absurd.”
“Please, Mom?” Nam tugs on Michelle’s shirt. “I wanna go.”
“Chelle?” Violet begs. “This trip can’t happen without you. You have to come.”
All eyes are on Michelle as she sucks her teeth, staring straight ahead.
“You’d deny her this opportunity?” Dad asks, incredulous.
“What opportunity?” Michelle turns to Dad. “I’m not trying to be contrary. But a family trip to Arizona in December to take a dangerous hike because Indigo is claiming that God is speaking to her. Am I the only one who thinks this is absurd? What if something terrible happens?” She looks at Violet. “Vee, what if you need emergency dialysis? Or have another episode where you can’t breathe? We’ll be stuffed in a bunch of cars and—”
“The church has a paratransit bus,” Jedidiah cuts in. “Sorry to interrupt. I don’t see why you all couldn’t use it for your trip.”
“That’s awfully generous of you, Jedidiah.” Dad’s deep voice resonates in the cramped den. “But who could drive it? Mom let her commercial driver’s licenses expire and I got a torn rotator cuff. I can lift just fine, but turning the wheel of a bus would be tough for me.”
“I could drive it,” Jedidiah replies. “I have a commercial driver’s license. I’d be happy to drive you all to Arizona.”
“You’d come with us?” Violet smiles.
“It’s a sixteen-passenger paratransit bus. Not to be confused with a charter bus. Those have bathrooms and are a lot bigger. But this could still fit the whole family, medical supplies and up to two wheelchairs easily.”
Violet looks over at Michelle. “Chelle, please? This...means something to me.”
Michelle sits silently, contemplating what we know she’ll eventually agree to. If Michelle hates me to negative ten, she loves Violet to positive one hundred. It’s anything for Vee. It’s always been that way.
“This is what you really want?” Michelle asks.
“It’s what... I really want,” Violet declares breathlessly.
“I won’t let you down, Violet,” Michelle whispers.
Nam and Brandon high-five each other. “No school!” they squeal in unison.
I dare not move a muscle. Knowing the moment has come at last for Violet to actually speak to me! Like, really talk to me. She’ll have to ask me questions. We’ll pack together. Work out the details for the trip. Maybe we’ll even stay up all night chatting like the old days. I can’t help but smile so big. I’m all lit up inside like a happy troll doll.
Violet turns to Mom. “Could you help me pack?”
I deflate. She wants Mom to help her pack?
Mom squeezes Violet’s shoulder. “Of course, honey.”
“I’m a bit tired, you guys.” Violet sighs. “Didn’t sleep much last night. So... I’ll see you all tomorrow. I’m excited for...this new adventure.”
I can’t believe it! Is she seriously still not going to talk to me?
I get my answer right away because with that, Mom pushes Violet’s wheelchair toward the back of the house.
Drew taps the boys on the shoulder. “C’mon.”
“Where are we going?” Nam asks.
“Home,” Michelle explains. “If we’re leaving tomorrow, you guys need to pack and get things in order.”
“I’ll call the school.” Drew kisses Michelle on the cheek. “You want me to grab you anything?”
“Everything I need is here.” Michelle adjusts Brandon’s glasses, bops him on the nose. “Make sure they pack boots, gloves. It’ll be cold.”
“In Arizona?” Nam scratches his head.
“Yes, in Arizona,” Michelle replies. “It’s winter all over the country and we’ll be one of the only fools on a dangerous hiking trail in the cold and rain.”
She looks over at me when she says fools and her eyes widen as if to make sure I know that I’m the biggest fool of all.
As Dad walks Jedidiah to the door, Alfred moves toward me, leans over the chair and whispers in my ear.
“Thanks, Indigo. That was... Indi, that was everything. F-R. F-R.”
He rushes up the stairs before I have a chance to respond. I watch him go. He looks happy. It’s a look I haven’t seen on Alfred in days.
When I turn back, Michelle and I are alone in the den. She steps over to me. Stands directly in front of the La-Z-Boy.
“What?” I ask finally.
“Well, I guess you win, huh?” she says sarcastically, mimicking my words from earlier. “’Cuz it’s always gotta be your way. Right, Indigo? Whatever makes you happy.”
“It’s not my way. It’s Violet’s way.” I mimic her right back and smile even though I feel like crying. “And I am happy. Happy we’re not all singing ‘Kum Ba Yah’ at Violet’s bedside while she drifts off to the fifth dimension.”
“The family is putting their lives in your hands.”
I swallow.
“And at the end of this road, when there is no voice of God and no cure for Vee, what will you do then?”
“Everything will work out,” I say with about as much confidence as Ron Weasley circa year one. “You’ll see.”
“I will see. That’s for damn sure.”
She moves off down the hallway, and I sit alone in the den feeling more disconnected from Violet and the family than ever before. I lean back and sigh.
The chair squeaks in response.
chapter eight
When Violet and I were fourteen years old and starting our second semester at Silver Line Big Picture High School, I convinced her to join a support group for pet obesity prevention. Silver Line accepts twenty students into each grade, for a total student body of only eighty. Needless to say, getting in is competitive. Big Picture high schools focus on learning through internships. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, students go to internships in their field of interest. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays we attend one class a day called an advisory. It sounds simple, but inside and outside of the classroom, the curriculum is a lot of work. Especially since the internships can end up feeling more like full-time jobs on top of the laundry list of school obligations. And being a member of at least one off-campus group was one requirement I was desperately trying to find a way out of.
The Voice in My Head Page 7
