Daddy’s eyes narrowed to a slit. “Watch it, young lady,” he told Yasmin.
“Or what, Daddy? You two have already taken everything from me that matters.”
Mama lowered her fork and frowned. “Now what are you talking about, Yasmin?”
Yasmin pulled an envelope from her back pocket and waved it at Mama.
Indigo looked at Max and pleaded with him through her eyes to do something. Max shook his head. She knew he’d say that. Whatever was about to happen needed to happen, in his estimation. Max didn’t believe in glossing over reality or keeping secrets.
Doing just that had led to his parents’ divorce when he was fifteen, and he made up his mind all those years ago that he would always speak the truth, in love. That way, no one would get blind-sided or hurt by ulterior motives. He had lived that way ever since, he’d told Indigo, and had ended a few relationships with women who hadn’t seen the harm in doing otherwise.
Indigo’s own experiences with the devastating impact of hiding the truth had helped her appreciate Max all the more. Brian’s revelation that he felt confused about his sexuality had shaken her to her core. Since their breakup, she tried to be real with everyone she considered a friend, and she expected them to be the same with her. Life was too precious and time too valuable to waste.
She was both eager and hesitant to learn where Yasmin was taking this conversation.
“Here.” Yasmin passed a thick envelope to Mama.
Mama accepted it, and when she read the return address, her eyes grew wide. “Where did you find this, Yasmin?”
“Why did I have to find it, Mama? Why didn’t you give it to me two years ago, when it came in the mail, addressed to me?”
Indigo felt like she was watching a tennis match—or the latest episode of The Young and the Restless.
Aunt Melba slapped the table with her palm. “Alright you two, that’s enough. If this is a private conversation, take it into the other room. If you’re going to talk about this in front of the family, get it over with and let’s move on. Yasmin, stop being disrespectful and melodramatic. Whatever that letter from two years ago says, does it really matter now?”
Yasmin nodded. “It does, Auntie, because Mama’s choice not to give it to me killed my dreams.”
Yasmin sat back and folded her arms. She challenged Mama with her eyes to deny the charge. A single tear coursed down one of her cheeks.
Aunt Melba stared at Mama and waited. Mama looked at Daddy.
“Yasmin, sweetheart,” Daddy said. “I don’t know where you found it, but I believe that’s a letter offering you a contract to spend two months modeling in Paris, for a famous designer’s new line. We took one look at it and knew we couldn’t let you go. We also knew that if we showed it to you, you’d insist on going. It was my decision to keep this information from you, not your mother’s. We’d just slowed you down because your friends were getting into deep trouble while they modeled, and we just didn’t feel comfortable sending you to Paris for two months without one of us being able to go.”
“How could you, Daddy?” Yasmin said. “You snuffed the life out of my opportunity because it wasn’t convenient for you and Mama to chaperone. How do you think that makes me feel? I can’t be your baby forever. I just can’t!”
Yasmin pushed her chair back from the table and fled the room.
“Ooooooh,” a wide-eyed Charles David said in a loud whisper. “She’s going to have to go to time-out.”
Indigo was floored. Mama and Daddy had kept one of those big secrets that Max was always railing against. No one else knew what to say either, it seemed.
“Let’s not let the food get cold,” Mama finally crowed. “I’ll talk to Yasmin later and clear the air between us. She’ll be all right. We did what was best.”
But Indigo wasn’t sure. This was bigger than deciding to put the brakes on spot modeling jobs in Dallas and occasionally New York. Mama and Daddy had decided to disregard a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity without even exploring the options with Yasmin. For the first time in a long time, Indigo didn’t believe her sister was being a spoiled brat or a drama queen.
She prayed that the girl wouldn’t do something foolish just because she was angry. Some mistakes couldn’t be repaired, but making more missteps worsened a problem.
Everyone slowly resumed eating, but the mood was glum. When Yasmin slammed the front door on her way out a few minutes later, Indigo’s plans for dessert died. Charles David began to cry, and Mama did too.
12
Relief washed over Indigo three hours later when she responded to her ringing doorbell and found Yasmin leaning against the door frame.
“Girl, where have you been?”
Indigo wasn’t surprised when Yasmin didn’t answer. She grabbed one of her sister’s wrists and tugged her inside. Yasmin clutched the letter, which now was a crumpled mess.
Indigo led her to the sofa, sat down next to her, and waited for her to share whatever she wanted. Instead, Yasmin sat back and folded her arms. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the sofa.
Indigo strolled to the kitchen a few yards away and paused in front of her open fridge. Yas may have missed dinner, but she wouldn’t dare eat anything this late. Her bulimia hadn’t been an issue in recent years, but everyone in the family knew Yasmin remained fanatical about her weight and about when and what she ate. As long as she was determined to model, this would come with the territory.
Indigo grabbed two cans of Diet Coke. She sat one on the glass table in front of Yasmin and popped hers open.
“You just gonna sit there and fall asleep, or are you gonna talk to me? I know you’re hurt, but we can get through this.”
Yasmin snorted, but didn’t open her eyes or move. Indigo sighed, then took another swig of the beverage.
Truthfully, what could she say? She would be furious too if Mama and Daddy had pulled this on her. But what was done was done. She gazed at her sister—so pretty, yet so angry. So full of potential, yet distracted by what she couldn’t change and couldn’t have right now.
The longer Indigo stared at the thinner, younger version of herself, the more she remembered what it felt like to be a senior in high school, on the verge of independence, but choking under the hold Mama and Daddy had on her life. She realized in that instant that while her frustration had stemmed from conflicts over curfew and other efforts to break free from her parents’ overprotectiveness, Yasmin’s claustrophobia had to be more intense, because thanks to the brief period she had modeled, she had been given a glimpse of the world outside of Jubilant. She had experienced her longtime dream awakening, only to have it snatched away because her parents didn’t understand or appreciate it.
Indigo couldn’t apologize for agreeing with Mama and Daddy’s decision to pull Yasmin out of the modeling world when it was clear that the kids she was working with had some troubling issues. But the offer of a modeling job in Europe, along with an invitation from one of the world’s top designers to showcase his collection, shouldn’t have been ignored or dismissed without exploring the options with Yasmin. One of them could have traveled with her as a full-time chaperone, even if for just that one show.
Indigo sat back on the sofa and laid her head back too. She stared at the ceiling and thought about the path Yasmin appeared to be traveling.
Mama and Daddy had shut her down to keep her safe from the evils in the modeling world, and Yasmin had defied their efforts anyway. The kids she was hanging out with now had questionable character and seemed to lack goals.
“Where have you been these past few hours?” Indigo asked, noting that it was almost 10 p.m. She should call Mama and let her know Yasmin was safe, but if she made that move, Yasmin would throw a fit.
“With my friends,” Yasmin finally responded.
“And who would that be?” Indigo turned her eyes toward the girl. “These days, I don’t know anymore. Cherita, Imani, and the other girls at St. Peter say you don’t come around or call the
m anymore. And you never bring home your friends from school.”
Yasmin released a sharp laugh that resembled a bark. “Trust me—Mama and Daddy wouldn’t like them. Then I’d be left sitting in the house with my parents all the time, with nowhere to go and no one to go with.”
Indigo sat up and faced her sister. “Yas, you know you’re playing with fire, right? Hanging out with a tough crowd to get back at Mama and Daddy might hurt their feelings, but you’re jacking up your life. Are you making yourself throw up after you eat? Smoking weed? Having sex?”
Yasmin frowned at Indigo. She looked embarrassed for a split second, before the expression changed to indignation. “Who are you now, Mama’s clone or a Goody Two-shoes, bossy big sister? How dare you ask me stuff like that?”
Indigo shook her head. “How dare I not?” she asked. “You keep saying you want to model, yet look at what you’ve done to your hair.”
Indigo pointed to the varying shades of dye that covered what had once been a lovely, healthy head of naturally black hair. While Yasmin had maintained its length, the hair that framed her face was shorter on one side than on the other—cut into an asymmetrical, blunt style that Indigo wasn’t sure whether Yasmin had gone to a salon to request or had cut herself.
“You keep blaming our parents for killing your career, but what are you doing to prepare yourself to launch it again when you do graduate from high school? You haven’t mentioned applying to Everson or any other college. You haven’t said anything about going to a modeling school or trying to establish yourself in some other way that can help you reach your goals.
“Instead, all I hear is the whining. All I see is you hanging out with people who can’t encourage you to hold on to your dreams and be better, because it doesn’t seem that they have any of their own. You lie down with dogs, Yas, and you are going to catch their fleas. That cliché ain’t nothing but the truth.”
Yasmin jumped off the sofa and headed for the door. Indigo leapt from her seat to block her sister’s exit. She dashed around Yas-min and leaned her back against the door and folded her arms.
“You might run from Mama and Daddy, but you are not running away from me, Little Girl,” she said between clinched teeth. She had never been this angry with her sister before, but watching Yasmin throw her life away was both infuriating and frightening.
“You can’t keep dodging your problems. You have to face them, Yas, and you have to make some hard decisions. Who do you want to be? How will you make that happen? Get over the opportunities that have been wasted or missed. Concentrate on what you are able to do, and go after that with all of your heart. I am here. I will do whatever I can to help you. But I can’t stand by and watch you self-destruct without saying something.”
Yasmin balled up her fists and parted her lips to offer a reply, but as she formed the words, her eyes filled with tears. Instead of sharing what was on her mind, she covered her mouth with the palm of her hand to stifle her tears.
Indigo let her own tears flow freely and prayed that in this instant, God was touching her sister.
Please help me get through to her, Lord. Help her get back on the right track and let go of all of the pain and frustration she is feeling. I’m begging, Lord. Please.
Indigo approached Yasmin and stood before her, waiting for Yasmin to respond.
Yasmin lifted her head and looked into Indigo’s eyes. Indigo flinched at the pain and fear she saw there. Yasmin, who stood about four inches taller than her older sister, leaned into Indigo for a hug.
“I do need your help, Indie. I want to do better so I can get back to doing what I love,” Yasmin said, her voice swollen with tears. “I just don’t know how. And I don’t know how to forgive Mama and Daddy for being so controlling. Reuben can do whatever he wants without a word said, but they’re hiding things from me to keep me from reaching my lifelong dream? I just don’t get it. It hurts, and it makes me not trust them.”
Indigo squeezed Yasmin’s neck, then stepped back to take the girl’s hands. How could she tell her sister she felt the same way about their parents’ devotion to Reuben without stirring up more issues?
“They were wrong about the job in Europe, Yas. There’s nothing else to say. But even so, you’ve got to find a way to prepare for your future and let that go. Hopefully they haven’t kept anything else from you. You’re in your senior year, so now is the time to begin focusing on what you can do over these next eight or nine months to be prepared after graduation. Concentrate on that, okay?
“When you graduate, you can start again. For now, just be patient and do your best in school. And pray about Mama and Daddy. God can help you forgive them, and he can also help them support you more with your modeling, if that’s what you decide you want to pursue after graduation.”
Yasmin sighed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Thanks, sis. I guess that’s all I can do for now.”
She returned to the sofa and grabbed her Diet Coke before plopping down and reaching for the cordless phone. She extended the phone to Indigo, who hadn’t moved. “Can you call Mama and Daddy and tell them I’m here? And if you’ll let me stay overnight, can you tell them I’ll be home sometime tomorrow? I just need to clear my head.”
Indigo approached Yasmin and took the slim black phone. “Sure, Yas,” she said and dialed their parents’ number.
Indigo put the phone to her ear and waited for one of them to answer. She made a mental note to send Max a text. They spoke every night before falling asleep, to wish each other sweet dreams and sometimes pray together. She knew he’d understand her missing tonight. While she and Yas talked things out, he could be praying with and for them, on the other side of town.
13
Reuben shook himself awake and gasped for air.
He surveyed his surroundings and fell back on his pillow with a sigh. He was in his bed, in his new home, in Jubilant. He mopped the sweat from his brow and rubbed the moisture onto the sheet.
What had triggered the dream this time? When would the nightmares end, and was that even what this was? It had seemed so real.
In the dream, he’d been running from Mama and Daddy. The man and woman who chased him, yelling for him to come back or else, wore brown paper bags over their heads, with slits where the eyes, nose, and mouth were, but he knew it was his parents. They were still hiding behind the image of being a perfect Christian family, despite Mama’s drinking problem, Daddy’s emotional distance, and Reuben’s own angry outbursts behind closed doors. Everything on the outside was controlled, but when the masks came off, the truth would come out. Mama and Daddy were determined not to let him remove his.
As he ran away, images flitted through his mind of Mama stashing bottles of alcohol in her sewing room and Daddy grabbing his fishing pole and catching a ride with a friend down to the river, where he’d stay all day Saturday to remain out of the fray. Reuben saw himself, stuck in the house with two young girls, his sisters, begging him to jump rope, dress their dolls, or play patty-cake. He felt himself suffocating.
Then the scene switched, as it always did, to the dream/memory that had paralyzed him in recent years.
He was twelve years old again, riding in the backseat of his parents van, singing along to an old Stevie Wonder classic. His mother laughed when he messed up a lyric and turned in the front passenger seat to face him.
“No, baby, it goes like this . . .”
But before she could sing the verse, the van swerved and everything went black.
In his dream, Reuben watched himself wake up. He was disoriented and sitting inside the van, still buckled into his seat. He heard moans from his mother as she called out to him and to his father.
“David! Reuben, my baby!”
But Dad didn’t answer. He sat motionless behind the steering wheel, with his head turned away from Reuben, resting in an airbag.
Reuben couldn’t move, but he could see his mother, lying outside the vehicle a few feet away. She was bloody and groaning with pain.
<
br /> He screamed for her: “Mom?! Help me!”
He fought to remove his seatbelt, but it was jammed, and the searing pain in his right arm rendered the arm useless. The passenger seat his mother had occupied had broken loose from its anchor during the impact, and while Reuben didn’t feel any unusual sensations or achiness, his feet and ankles were pinned under it.
He called out to his mother again, and this time when she heard his voice, she seemed coherent.
“Somebody help us, please!” she yelled.
The sun was fading, but it wasn’t dark yet. It looked to Reuben as if the van had careened down a hill. They were all alone, and the drivers of the cars speeding along the highway above didn’t seem to notice the terrifying accident.
Mom continued yelling for help and praying aloud for what seemed like an eternity. His right arm throbbed and he wished he could cut it off. But more than his own discomfort, he was worried about hers.
Mom was always the one person in the family who wasn’t afraid of spiders, roller coasters, or bloody knees. She held things together so she could take care of everyone else. Hearing her painful pleas worried him.
Eventually, her voice grew weak, and her tears subsided. She called out to him again. “Reuben, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Mom, I hear you. I’m scared. Are we going to be okay?” Reuben held his breath as he waited for her reassurance.
“Yes, baby, all of us are going to be okay. But Mom needs to close her eyes for a few minutes . . . Reuben? If Mom doesn’t wake up . . . promise me . . . promise me you’ll take care of Indigo and Yasmin, okay?”
Terror coursed through Reuben like poison. He almost vomited. He had to convince her to stay awake. “No, Mom! No! I need you and Dad! Don’t leave me!!”
Mom shushed his cries. “It’s okay, baby, don’t be scared. You’re gonna be fine. Someone’s gonna find you soon. God has promised me. Now I need something from you: promise me that you will help Indigo and Yasmin remember us, and that you’ll always be there for them, no matter what.”
Dreams That Won't Let Go Page 6
