Through Indigo's Eyes

by Tara Taylor

  He hunched his shoulders. “Yeah. I live close to the mall.”

  I nodded. The bus approached, and we both moved to board. Then out of nowhere, a big brute of a guy pushed by Nathan, making him stumble. I grabbed his arm to help him keep his balance. “Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s sit together.”

  Once we were seated, he looked out the window, then turned to me and said, “I hate this weather. It’s so gloomy.” He turtled his head into the collar of his jacket.

  I laughed to make him feel more at ease. “I like the gray and the dark,” I said.

  “You do?” He frowned.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s kind of funny, because to me you are like a butterfly, light and free to fly in the summer sun from bush to bush. I’d think you would like the sun.”

  I laughed at his comment. “Me? A butterfly? You’re funny, Nathan.”

  He laughed along with me, the metal in his teeth gleaming, and I could see a spark of happiness in his eyes, which made me feel lighter as well.

  “I like the gray, because sun all the time is kind of boring,” I said. “Don’t ya think? I bet even butterflies like the gray. It’s like life. Some days are light, and some days are really dark.”

  Nathan stopped smiling and lowered his head. “I have dark days all the time, so I guess that’s why I like the sun so much. Just makes me feel a little better.”

  “Life can’t be that bad,” I said.

  He glanced at me. “It’s not that good.” Then he brightened a bit. “Well, not at school anyway. But it’s better when I’m sitting with you on the bus!”

  I nudged him with my shoulder. “I read the weather forecast, and tomorrow is supposed to be sunny.”

  He grinned. “Good.”

  As we chatted for a few more minutes, I felt lighter and freer because Nathan was happy. It was funny how my moods were so dependent on others.

  Nathan’s stop was two before the mall.

  “Thanks, Indie,” he said as he stood to get off.

  When he looked at me, I thought he might cry—and not tears of sorrow, but more of happiness, because someone had been nice to him. I didn’t understand why people thought it was fun to hurt others. It made no sense.

  Had I hurt Lacey? That is the last thing I want to do.

  I lifted my hand and gave a little wave. Within seconds, he was out the bus door. I slid down in my seat, thinking about Lacey. Then my thoughts veered like a car making a sharp turn, and I thought about John and the man in the hallway. I tapped my fingers on my thigh, over and over, waiting for my stop, my thoughts streaming through my mind.

  Who was he?

  Finally, the bus stopped, and I stood to get off. My legs were heavy, and I felt like I’d walked uphill for an hour. Over the years, I’d been tested for mono at least five times, but the results were always negative. I was tired for no reason. My energy was so crazy. One minute I felt great and light, and the next I felt as if I weighed a million pounds.

  As I walked to Denny’s, something nagged at me, made me feel uneasy, so I hurried. I turned to look behind me. No one was following. What was wrong now? It was broad daylight, and not a single person was walking behind me.

  When I was close to the door, a sudden throb hit my forehead, nearly making me gasp for air. I looked behind me again and still saw nothing. There was no one nearby.

  Relax, Indie. Breathe.

  I rushed so I could get to the table, meet my friends, have a cigarette, and stop this insanity. Sometimes with people around me, I could push all this internal stuff aside.

  Suddenly, I started thinking about a flight home from California, a year ago, when out of the blue, I had heard my cousin’s name. I remembered how I had felt on that day—I was feeling the same way now.

  I had been on an airplane, staring out the little window at the clouds floating like gauzy mist. Brian wasn’t with us, because he had to work. As I watched the clouds, my mind went blank, white. Then, I had heard the word Curtis loud and clear. I sat forward and blinked. I had a cousin named Curtis. For the past five years, he’d had so many drug problems, and everyone in the family worried about him.

  Once we landed, we got our bags and then picked up our car. I sat in the backseat feeling uneasy. Something wasn’t right.

  In the backseat of the car, I had swung my legs back and forth as I stared out the window, until my mother yelled at me from the front, telling me to stop kicking her seat. When we arrived home, my head pounded. Brian met us at the front door, his face red and blotchy from tears. He never cried.

  “Curtis is dead,” he sobbed. “Overdosed.”

  What was wrong with me? I had to stop thinking about all of this. I was going to meet my friends. I started running.

  This isn’t close to the same, Indie. You are imagining everything.

  But it is, Indie, it is. Remember the feelings. That’s your job.

  By the time I saw Sarah waving at me from a table way in the back, my breathing was coming out in pants, like I’d just finished phys-ed class and the run test. Ignoring the hostess who usually seated people, I hurried down the aisle to get to the booth where Sarah, Carly, and Zoe sat.

  Sarah laughed when she saw me. “Did you run here?”

  “Nah, I just walk fast.” I sat down beside her and tossed my backpack on the floor. Then I immediately took out my cigarettes.

  I lit up, inhaling deeply. Relax. Relax. The smoke somehow stopped my thoughts from getting out of control and numbed my body so panic couldn’t set in.

  “So, we’ve been talking about our band,” said Sarah. “We should have a rehearsal soon. And then once we get good enough, we could find somewhere to play.”

  “Like a real concert?” I asked. “We need a lot of practice before we play in front of people. But, wow, that would be so cool.”

  “We could do some type of fund-raiser.” Carly tapped her fingers on the table.

  My mind went blank, then I saw a dog, and he had the saddest eyes. The vision disappeared like a puff of cigarette smoke. “Animal shelter,” I said. “We could do something for stray dogs and cats. They often have events, and maybe we could play at one of them and help them raise money!”

  Sarah held up her hand. “You rock, girl. That’s a great idea.”

  “I’ll phone them,” said Carly. “My friend works there, and I know they have one event in the fall, which we have probably already missed, one at Christmas, and one in the spring.”

  Sarah pursed her lips before she said, “I dunno. Christmas doesn’t give us much time. Last time we rehearsed a million times before we perfected one song. If we are going to do this, we have to do it right.”

  The smell of lilacs hit me. “I think spring would be great,” I said. “And I agree that we need the time. What songs are we thinking of?” I took out a pen and paper from my backpack to write everything down.

  The conversation around the table escalated and became animated as we continued with our plans. Time ticked by. We would go to the animal shelter and offer our services, see if we could do something in, like, six months, which would give us time to put together a set. Five songs would probably be enough.

  While I was excited to talk about the band and totally got into it, my head continued to throb, and my stomach ached. I smoked and listened, talked and laughed, but on the inside, I had a rolling uneasiness that just kept rising and falling, over and over again. After our band conversation was over, we started to do our usual talk about parties and crap.

  “Hey,” said Carly, leaning forward and directing her words at me, “I heard Burke was necking with Amber at that party on the weekend. Does Lacey know?”

  I gave a noncommittal shrug.

  Sarah laughed and jostled me with her shoulder. “Indie was so drunk, I doubt she remembers anything.”

  “You were the one who gave me the drink.” I laughed. “Like, four drinks in one.”

  “You were so funny. I laughed so hard whe
n you threw up on that guy’s shoes.”

  “Which guy?” Carly asked.

  “That preppy kid with the starched pants.”

  Zoe burst out laughing. “I must have missed that.”

  “Indie was on the porch with John.” Sarah almost sang her words. “He is so hot. And I think he likes you, Indie.”

  Just the mention of his name made my heart race. “I don’t know about that,” I replied, trying to look cool.

  “We got to get him to ask you out,” said Sarah. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

  Without thinking of any consequences, I yanked a notebook out of my backpack and ripped out a piece of paper. Then I wrote: I like you. Do you like me?

  I folded it in half and gave it to Sarah. “Give this to him for me.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Sarah’s eyes were wide with shock. “You got balls.”

  “What the heck?” I said. “Might as well find out before I waste any more time.”

  Sarah took the note and carefully put it in a little zippered section on the front of her backpack. Then she motioned for me to scoot out. I stood, and she also slipped out of the booth, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Tomorrow morning, first thing,” she said. “Now I gotta go, or my mom will kill me.”

  “Me too.” I picked up my backpack as well. “I have to go to the bookstore first and pick something up.”

  Once we were all outside, I went one way, and Sarah, Zoe, and Carly went the other. Alone, walking over to the bookstore, which was in the same little outdoor strip mall, I wondered how John was going to react to the note. I was deep in thought about this when something crashed through me, like I had been tossed into a huge snowbank while snowboarding and I was trying to get to the top for air. I stopped walking and clutched my chest again. What was wrong with me now? This was the second time today. First when I passed Lacey, and now this. Cold eddied around me. I felt as if I were suffocating.

  Blank.

  No. This can’t be happening.

  I quickly staggered to a seat on a bench outside. My vision narrowed until I had only a hole to look through, a long tunnel. Then everything went blurry. Maybe it wouldn’t come on. My head pounded. I squeezed my eyes shut, then remembered how that hadn’t helped last time, so I opened them wide. At this point, I needed to try anything to get these visions to go away.

  I focused on a spot on the ground, and just when I thought it was over, that I had managed to squelch it, outsmart it, the throbbing began again. My sight grew longer and thinner, the fishbowl getting closer and closer. I shifted my gaze upward, looking for another spot to stare at. My gaze landed on a parking sign. No! That wasn’t going to work. I needed to look down again. The square concrete tiles on the sidewalk started to twist, and the picture started to form. It was blurry at first, then suddenly it was crystal clear. I saw a big red heart pulsing, in and out. Almost like a cartoon depiction. Pains pushed through my chest, and I could hear the heart beating, a loud sound like on a heart monitor.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The thumping got faster and faster.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

  Faster, faster, until I could hardly breathe. It wasn’t normal. The heart was beating too quickly. It had to slow down.

  Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump.

  Then it stopped. Just like that. My mind cleared, the noise abated, and as quickly as the vision had arrived, it left. My headache suddenly dissipated, until all I felt was a dull ache through my entire body.

  Shifting back to reality, I looked around the small strip mall. Nothing. What was wrong with me? How many times a day did I have to ask myself that question?

  First there was the uneasiness when I walked into Denny’s and now this. I thought about Edgar Cayce. He purposely went into trances. I wondered if next time I could purposely not go into a trance. I had no desire to see anything in the future, nor did I want to tap into the spiritual dimension.

  Look what happened when I did. I lost my best friend.

  Suddenly, I realized I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering, and it wasn’t even that cold out yet. I had to go home to the comfort of my bedroom. Finally, after my heart rate had returned to normal, I slung my backpack over my shoulder. To heck with the bookstore. I would buy the book tomorrow.

  I had just gotten up when I noticed a woman walking into the bookstore I had planned to go to. I couldn’t move. I stared at her. I didn’t know her, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The thumping of the heart suddenly sounded in my head again. The sound got louder and louder, until I was sure my head would burst.

  The heart.

  Her heart.

  No! She’s going to have a heart attack!

  Instead of moving, I stood in one spot. I didn’t know what to do. The woman, dressed in a red trench coat, had grasped the door handle and started to pull on it when she stopped in mid-yank and put her hand to her forehead, wiping her brow.

  Go to her, Indie. Help her.

  You idiot, you saw her red coat that’s all. That’s what the heart was.

  I shook my head. Had I just seen a red heart because of the red coat she was wearing? She wasn’t touching her heart; she was pressing her hand on her forehead like she had a headache. If I wasn’t crazy before, I was now.

  I took one step to walk away, but suddenly the woman grabbed her chest. Even from where I was standing, probably 30 feet away, I could hear her struggling to breathe.

  Then she collapsed, her body thudding as it hit the ground.

  I sprinted to her, screaming, “Call an ambulance. This woman just had a heart attack.”

  The flurry of activity started as a man who had been heading in our direction yelled that he would make the call. After that, everyone who passed by or was coming out of a store got involved, even if it was just to watch. A crowd gathered around us. I got down on my knees and held the woman’s hand. She was short of breath, so I knew she couldn’t talk to me, and her face had turned a horrible gray color.

  “Don’t talk, okay?” I said softly. “Help is on the way.”

  She wheezed, and I wondered if air was even getting to her lungs. Her eyes remained wide open, and I could read the panic in them. I absorbed her fear through her fingers, and an electrical current ran through my blood, giving me the adrenaline to stay with her. It was fight or flight, and I had to fight for her.

  “The ambulance is coming,” I whispered. I squeezed her hand. “Hang in there.”

  I didn’t leave her side. Murmurs filled the air: buzzing, talking, asking questions.

  Come on, air—get to her lungs.

  Relief washed through me when I heard a siren wailing. I kept holding her hand, talking to her softly.

  Then the paramedics rushed onto the scene, pushing through the crowd with their stretcher, yelling at everyone to move aside. They looked down at me.

  “She had a heart attack,” I said.

  The paramedic knelt beside me and quickly assessed her. Then he put an oxygen mask over her mouth.

  “She’s had a heart attack,” I repeated.

  “We won’t know anything until they run tests at the hospital,” he replied as he worked, strapping the woman on a stretcher.

  I squeezed her hand one last time before I let it go. Then I said, “You’re going to be okay.”

  As the paramedics walked away carrying the stretcher, their strides long and purposeful, I watched, not moving. Everything was fine now. The woman would be okay. Someone came up to me and said, “What happened?”

  “Heart attack.”

  “How do you know?” asked another voice in the distance.

  The ambulance door slammed, and I watched it speed away, red and blue lights flashing, siren shrieking.

  “I just do,” I replied. Then I walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  The first thing I did the next morning was telephone the hospital. The receptionist on the cardiac unit said the woman was going to be fine. Then she ask
ed if I was the girl who had helped her, and I stuttered and answered no, it had been my friend. The woman went on to tell me that the family had been wondering who the girl was because the woman had talked about her all night, and they wanted to thank her.

  I had hoped she wouldn’t remember me.

  That morning it took me longer than usual to put together an outfit. In the bathroom, I put on more makeup than I normally wore for no other reason than to waste time. What would John think when he got the note from Sarah? I swept blush over my cheeks like Lacey had taught me, then applied lip gloss, smacking my lips like Lacey did. When I finished, I stepped back from the mirror to evaluate myself and realized I looked like a clown. What was I thinking?

  As I was scrubbing my cheeks, Brian knocked on the bathroom door. “Move it, Indie,” he said. “I’m gonna pee in the hallway if you don’t hurry.”

  I opened the door and stormed out.

  “Who are you trying to impress?” He was wearing only his boxers, and when I passed him, he raised his eyebrows. Laughing, he shut the bathroom door in my face before I could smack him.

  At school I walked to my locker with my head lowered, counting the tiles on the floor, my gaze darting around to make sure I wouldn’t bump into anyone. I also looked and listened for flip-flops.

  Then I heard Lacey’s voice calling my name. My body tensed. Could we possibly forge some new ground, make our friendship work again? I lifted my head. She held out her hand and said, “I forgot to give this to you.”

  The silver best friend necklace was dangling from her index finger. I took it.

  “I don’t wear it anymore,” she stated. “For reasons both you and I know.” Although I could clearly see that she was still angry with me, I also detected something else. Suddenly, I heard the man’s gentle voice in my head.

  She needs you.

  Before I could say anything, Lacey turned and walked away.

  I watched her leave, knowing if I chased after her, she would cause a scene. The necklace burned my skin. I hoped she might look back at me so I could tell her I was sorry, tell her I missed her. But she didn’t. When she was out of sight, I carefully tucked the necklace in a safe spot in my locker. One day I would give it back, and when that day came, I didn’t want it to be tangled. I took out my books, slammed my locker shut, and leaned my shoulder against it. For a moment, I had thought we would be friends again.