Becoming Indigo

by Tara Taylor

  Sarah had a blank look on her face. Was I totally blowing this reading?

  I considered the third card. Power. There were five petals on the card—fat, fuzzy petals that were green but rather dull. I couldn’t figure out what kind of flower they came from, because they looked more like slices of sugared green gumdrops than petals. As I kept my gaze focused on them, they changed and became … fingers. The fingers moved in this undulating rhythm. Mesmerized, I didn’t say anything until, without warning, I blurted out, “You are going to help people using your hands.”

  After my revelation, I shook my head. Why had I said that? It was such a broad, general statement. Again, I heard Annabelle’s voice in my head. “Sometimes you have to put everything together.”

  But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t put the last two cards together.

  Are you going to give up?

  I snatched the cards off the floor and started putting them away. I wanted to go to bed. Forget that I had tried to do this.

  Sarah stopped my movement by touching me on the arm. Although I wanted to jerk my hand away, I didn’t. Instead, I lowered my head and let my hair hang in front of my eyes. I didn’t want the girls to see my reddened, embarrassed face. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t read you very well. I have no idea what the paper means.”

  “It’s okay, Indie. You’re just learning. It’s your first week at this.”

  Natalie put her hand on my shoulder. “You got me perfectly,” she chimed in.

  Not everything comes true right away, Indie. Be patient. Isaiah spoke in a calm, clear voice.

  I smiled at Sarah and Natalie. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

  On Monday morning, I went to work deep in thought. The night before had been a bit of a bust. I had been right with Natalie but off with Sarah. When I walked into the store, Annabelle was wearing her fuzzy pink slippers. Immediately, my mood brightened.

  “They look fabulous,” I said.

  She lifted her leg and pointed her toe. “I love them.” When she put her foot down, she eyed me. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Nothing is something.” She sang her words.

  “I read for my friends last night, and the last reading,” I mumbled, “wasn’t as clear as I thought it should be.”

  She patted my back. “What happened?”

  I filled her in on both readings.

  When I was finished, she said, “Indie, be patient. That last reading could still come true. Don’t worry about it. I’m really happy you’re trying. It takes time to learn how to focus completely. And … we are human. We do make some mistakes sometimes.”

  I glanced at her. “You do?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I just heard that a woman who I told would have a boy when she was pregnant had a girl.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Yeah. I get mad at God when he proves me to be human.” She laughed. “But I knew she wanted a boy. She already had two girls. She wouldn’t say it, but I knew it, so I kind of got sucked in and told her what she wanted to hear.”

  I shook my head. “But what I said was so general.”

  “Who knows when what you said will come true? Maybe it will be a week or a year or ten years. Let it go.”

  I nodded and exhaled. “Okay. This is harder than I thought.”

  “How do you like those cards?” She pushed a strand of my hair off my face, just like a mother would do.

  “I like them.”

  She winked at me. “You learn on them, and you’re as good as gold.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go to the back. You know the drill.”

  “Annabelle,” I said as she was leaving the room.

  She turned to face me.

  “Thanks.”

  “Come here, you. Give me a hug.” Annabelle walked back to me with open arms, and I fell into them, resting my head on her shoulder. This woman was becoming someone I trusted and loved, and in this moment, I knew she felt exactly the same about me. I was so lucky to have met her.

  It’s called divine intervention, my dear.

  The week sped by, and I enjoyed my time at the store. It was fun, and I was learning something. But on Friday, I was anxious for four o’clock.

  “What’s up with you?” Annabelle asked when I started organizing my purse at five minutes before closing.

  “I’m going out this weekend. Tonight and tomorrow night. There’s a big party tomorrow night at the river. I can’t wait. It will be the party of the summer.”

  She pointed her finger at me. “I have been meaning to talk to you about this for weeks now. You need to learn how to protect yourself. When you give readings, everything in your body opens, which makes you a sponge for spirits to penetrate. And believe me, you don’t want that to happen. Also, when you are out with a lot of people, you will need the protection, because it can turn your mind so no visions come to you. You definitely do not want to give readings when you are partying.”

  I nodded, trying to absorb what she was saying.

  “I know I gave you some ways to protect yourself but … I think I need to make it easier for you. Every day in the morning and then again before you go out, you should do these simple exercises. I tend to do my protection in the shower. I close my eyes and imagine myself being covered in white light. Then I ask out loud for protection. How you want to think of the white light is up to you. I think of a bubble surrounding me. But that’s because I love my bubble baths.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks. I’ll give that a try. Every day?”

  “Yes, my dear. Every day.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good girl—oh, and watch combining readings with alcohol. You may think it numbs you and even protects you, but it has the opposite effect.” She held up her hand. “I’m not saying don’t drink, because I like a glass of wine now and again, but shut yourself off when you indulge. Don’t allow visions or voices to come through. Just tell them to go away.”

  “I can do that?”

  “Yes. And you should. If you’re at a party and drinking and someone asks you to read for them, just say no. You’re not working tonight.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “That’s good to know.”

  “People will think you know things about them all the time. And the fact is if you make a conscious effort to turn off, you won’t get anything coming through.”

  We turned when the door tinkled. Paul stood there looking awkward, like a little boy who had interrupted something.

  “Hi, Paul,” said Annabelle.

  “I’m almost done.” I glanced at the clock. “Five minutes.”

  Annabelle gestured to the door. “Get your things and get out of here. And have a good weekend.”

  As soon as Paul and I left, we drove to Britannia Beach, blasting tunes in Mable’s stereo. I patted the dashboard. “I think she likes her name.”

  Paul laughed.

  I rolled down the window, allowing the summer air to flow through Mable. “You going to the river party tomorrow night?” I asked him. “Everyone is going. We could go together.”

  He looked at me and grinned. “I have to work. At Starbucks!”

  “Ha ha. You got the job. When did that happen?”

  “They phoned today, and I have to go in for training tomorrow night. I think they’re short staffed.” He reached for my hand. “I can’t believe you knew.”

  “Yeah, crazy, eh?” I shrugged.

  “So … how does it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said. I paused for a second to let the breeze flow through my hair. Instead of looking at him, I stared straight ahead out the window. “My mind goes blank, and I feel as if I’m looking through a telescope into a fishbowl, and inside the fishbowl is a picture.” I couldn’t believe I said that in one sentence. But it felt good, and I wasn’t at all embarrassed.

  “Is it like a movie? Or a photo?”

  “Can be either. But usually like a movie
.”

  “Did that happen when you saw me working at Starbucks?” He grinned. “Was I being a cool barista?”

  I laughed. “For that one, I just heard a word. You said something to me, I can’t remember what now, and I heard the word Starbucks in my head.”

  When we arrived at the beach, we immediately went to the water, and I waded while Paul dunked his entire body and tried to splash me.

  After about ten minutes in the water, we hit the concession stand and ordered a soft-serve ice cream. As I observed the girl behind the counter twirling the ice cream into the cone, I almost laughed. Annabelle had said I should pick something white to protect me. I was going to pick soft-serve ice cream. What a pleasant thought.

  Paul and I wandered over to a picnic table and sat down. As we licked our ice creams, we talked about music and summer and new movies. We both agreed the summer’s funniest movie, There’s Something About Mary, was hilarious, and nothing else out this year even compared.

  “My favorite by far this summer,” said Paul. “I saw it three times in the theater.”

  “Three times?” I asked. “That’s crazy.”

  “Yeah. I know. But I laughed every time…. We’re kind of like them.” Paul finished the last bite of his cone.

  “Like who?” I asked.

  “You’re like Cameron Diaz, and I’m like Ben Stiller. The nerdy guy who wants the pretty girl.”

  “You’re not the nerdy guy.” I playfully slapped his chest.

  He took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. My body stilled. Slowly, he put his fingers on my cheek. “Ice cream,” he said.

  I touched his cheek, too, even though it didn’t have any ice cream on it. “You too,” I whispered. “Just a little right here.”

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  I leaned into his hand and looked into his clear, blue, honest eyes. There was no darkness to them at all. It was different, and a little scary. I guess I liked darkness and not knowing.

  Then it happened.

  In broad daylight.

  Paul leaned forward and kissed me, right there in the park.

  And I responded.

  With his arms circling my shoulders and his lips pressed against mine, I felt perfectly safe, like I’d been wrapped in a soft-serve ice cream cone.

  Part Two

  Chapter Eleven

  August 1998

  “Indie, let’s get a move on,” Sarah yelled from the front door. “Tyler is ready to go.”

  “Coming,” I yelled from my room as I hobbled around, trying to do up my sandal. They were cute wedge sandals with buckles that were hard to fasten. After I had the sandal on, I quickly glanced around. I was forgetting something. What was it? I wore jeans and a shirt and … oh, yeah. I should take a sweater or jacket. I snatched my jean jacket off the hanger. I was almost at the front door when I felt the niggling feeling again. I was forgetting something.

  “In-die!” Sarah screamed from the bottom of the stairs.

  With my purse slapping against my thigh, I ran down the stairs.

  “Finally,” Sarah huffed.

  “Sorry.” I slid into the back of Tyler’s car and buckled my seat belt. “I just keep feeling like I’m forgetting something.” I opened my purse and searched through it looking for the answer, but there wasn’t one. I obviously hadn’t forgotten anything. Again, the pinching feeling. I shook it off.

  “Is Paul coming later?” Tyler glanced at me in his rearview mirror before he pulled away from the curb.

  “Maybe. He has to stay until closing and do the crap jobs because he is training.” Tyler and Paul had really hit it off. While we girls were playing music in the park last weekend, they tossed around a football. “So he won’t be done until around 11:30. Said he might come and give me a ride home.”

  “He’s got lots of time to show up and have fun,” said Sarah. “Natalie is coming later, too, after she gets off from work. I bet this par-tee goes until the wee hours of the morning. I’m planning to stay there until dawn. Everyone is going.”

  “Yeah, even Lacey called me today,” I said. I hadn’t seen Lacey since that night in the Royal Oak at the beginning of the summer. I couldn’t wait to see her and catch up, and I wanted her to come to the store and meet Annabelle.

  “What about Burke?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Sarah turned around and stared at me from the front seat. “I heard John might be there.”

  “John?” My pulse quickened. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “He came in the restaurant this morning. He was with a couple of his buddies, and, man, did they look rough.”

  “He doesn’t drink much.” I defended him.

  “I didn’t say they were hungover. It was soooo obvious that they were higher than kites. Probably hadn’t been to bed all night.”

  I slouched in my seat and stared out the window. I hated hearing stuff like that about John. John. I hadn’t talked to him in well over two months or seen him in almost three months. How would I react when I saw him again?

  Last time he’d called, I’d just moved into the apartment and it was two days after the phone had been installed. I had picked it up and almost keeled over when I heard his voice.

  “Indie,” he’d said softly.

  “John! Where did you get this number?”

  “Your dad.”

  Next, there were a few seconds of silence before he said, “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “Let’s go to England. You and me. Just the two of us.”

  “John, why are you doing this? Why are you saying this to me? You know it will never come true.”

  “It could, Indie.”

  “No, it can’t.”

  “Why not? We love each other. And miss each other. You just told me you missed me.”

  A snapshot of a castle appeared in my mind, and I blurted out, “Because … I’m going to travel somewhere. I’ve already made plans.” But I hadn’t. That was the first time I’d ever thought about going anywhere besides England. I didn’t have enough money for a trip overseas; I could hardly pay my rent. How could I even say I was going to Scotland?

  “Oh,” he’d said. Hurt pinched his voice.

  “I’m sorry, John.”

  “Yeah. Me too. Well, I got to go. Bye, Indie.”

  And he’d hung up.

  That was it. The last time we’d spoken. And now he was going to be at the party.

  We stopped at the liquor store, and I stayed in the car and didn’t buy anything, but Sarah and Tyler did. I decided that I didn’t want to drink. We stopped at a small supermarket, and I went in and bought some hot dog buns, a package of wieners, and a bottle of soda.

  When we got to the riverbank, cars were already parked and music could be heard from an open area that was just past the bushes and the trees. It was a good place for a party, because there were no neighbors to call the cops.

  I got out of the car and immediately smelled the bonfire. I walked with Tyler and Sarah through the bushes to the stone riverbank, the crackling sound of fire getting louder and louder with each step. The first person I spotted when I reached the opening and the stone bed was Lacey. I smiled and waved.

  “Indie!” She came toward me and we hugged. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Should be fun.” I held up the plastic supermarket bag. “Hot dogs,” I said.

  “I’ve missed you. All those hot dogs over the years. Come on.” She linked her arm through mine. “Let’s join the fun.” Arm in arm, we walked toward the party, which was at around 30 people so far, but it was only 10 P.M. By midnight, the area would be packed with upward of 100 kids.

  “What are you drinking?” she asked.

  “Nothing tonight. I might have to drive later.”

  “You turning over a new leaf?” Lacey hip-checked me.

  “Um. Maybe.” I proceeded to tell Lacey about Annabelle’s Angels and how I was learning to work with cards.
/>   “Indie,” she exclaimed, “that is so exciting. Can you read my cards?”

  “Sure. Come over some night. It would be fun.”

  “You’ve always had a gift, you know,” she said softly. “I still feel awful about last year and how I treated you.”

  “Forget about it,” I said. “And … it’s not a gift. Annabelle has been teaching me that everyone is intuitive. She calls it ‘ability.’”

  “Uh-oh,” said Lacey. “Don’t look now, but there’s John.”

  “Keep talking to me.” My heart sped up. Lacey and I chatted about what we were doing with our summer, and I didn’t look John’s way. Finally, I said, “Where is he now?”

  Lacey scanned the crowd, which was suddenly bigger. In a matter of minutes, carloads of kids had shown up. “Can’t see him,” she said.

  I heaved a sigh of relief and also viewed the crowd. Amazing how it could grow so fast. I couldn’t see John either.

  Lacey and I continued talking for a little while about nothing really, just crazy stuff from years ago. Then she made a grimacing face. “Oh, no. He’s on his way over here.”

  I exhaled and stood tall.

  I heard his flip-flops smacking the stones before I heard his voice.

  “Indie.” He drawled out the word. My body reacted as it always did when I was near him: my heart raced uncontrollably, my palms got clammy, and electricity jolted through me.

  I sucked in a deep breath and tried to meet his eyes, which were piercing me.

  “Hi, John.” The words barely escaped my mouth. I really did try to look up at him, return his gaze, but it was hard, so hard. He fixed his eyes on me, and I shivered and glanced away at the party and the people. How could he do this to me? Make me melt and cave and feel flustered.

  “Indie. I haven’t seen you all summer.”

  I tried to act casual and cool when I said, “Um, remember we talked on the phone in early July?”

  “Oh, right. How’s your summer been?” he said, ignoring my answer, as if I didn’t even have an effect on him.

  “Good. Yours?”

  “Great,” he said. “Trying to save enough to go to England at the end of the summer.”