Becoming Indigo

by Tara Taylor

He sucked in a huge breath of air, exhaled, and said, “Good idea.”

  Silence loomed over us. What else did I have to talk about? Today I had nothing to talk about. Nothing at all.

  He spoke first. “I learned how to make a latte yesterday.” He winked at me.

  For the second time that day, I attempted to smile.

  “Next time you’re in,” he said in a trying-hard-to-be-jovial voice, “I’ll make you a free one.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand in his again, gently squeezing my fingers. “I hate seeing you so sad.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Indie, you have nothing to be sorry about. What happened was wrong. If I met the guy on the street, I could do some real damage.”

  “My dad has first dibs on that one.”

  “Okay, then I’ll karate kick him so he won’t get up again and make it all easier for your dad.”

  I had to smile.

  And he smiled back. And just like that, the thought of Paul and my father, the most unlikely duo, working together hit me, and I laughed. And for a few seconds my numbness disappeared and something pleasant flowed through me.

  But it didn’t last long.

  The next morning I walked into work and headed right to the cash register, storing my bag under the counter as I had on my first day. Immediately, I opened up the schedule book. “You have four bookings today,” I said quietly. My hair hung in front of my face, and I didn’t want to look Annabelle in the eyes. “Usually you only do three. I’m worried about you.”

  Annabelle came over to stand beside me. “Indie, look at me,” she said.

  I lifted my head a little.

  “Please, this is not the time to worry about me,” she said. “You’ve been through something awful.” Her voice was soft and soothing. “Do you want to be here today? Because I can close up during my readings and you can go home.”

  I busied myself by arranging the pens on the counter. “I want to be here,” I mumbled.

  She put her hands on mine to still them. “Sweetie, I’ll help you through this.”

  I could feel tears stinging my eyes, so I hung my head again. “Why didn’t I see this before it happened?” I mumbled.

  She wrapped her arms around me. “Sometimes you just can’t,” she said. “It’s just the way it is.”

  “That’s not an answer.” I sniffled. “I’m doing all this work with you and then something like this happens. What good is anything that I’ve been doing?”

  She stroked my back. “I know that it seems unfair now.”

  I pulled away from her and shook my head. “Unfair?”

  Annabelle picked up a pair of feathered angel wings and touched them as if they would give her answers. I watched her actions and wondered how I had even gotten involved with her and any of this. It didn’t help in the long run.

  It will all work out okay. Isaiah’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  But I didn’t want him talking to me. Suddenly, I could feel anger stirring inside me. I couldn’t control how I felt anymore. One minute I was sad, the next angry, the next despondent. And in this moment, I didn’t want Isaiah in my life. If he was part of my so-called divine team, then he wasn’t a very good team member. Where was he on Saturday night? He certainly wasn’t my knight in shining armor when I was being drugged and dragged into the bushes.

  No one was there for you.

  You were meant to meet Annabelle. Don’t push her away.

  If I could have told him to shut up, I would have, but Annabelle would ask questions, and I was tired of questions.

  “One day you will understand the reason,” she said with an assured calmness.

  I glanced down at the schedule book. The words in front of me got blurry and seemed to be swimming in a pool of water.

  “That makes no sense,” I whispered. I continued staring at the book.

  “I know,” she said.

  I heard her inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth. I waited for her to speak, because I knew she had more to say.

  “I’ve felt like that many times.”

  I finally looked up from the book. I secured my gaze on her hands, instead of her face, and watched carefully as she wove her fingers together, making a steeple with her pointer fingers. For some reason, I was mesmerized by all her small gestures.

  “When my marriage failed,” she continued, “I wondered why I had married such a jerk. Why hadn’t I seen what a louse he really was? He felt he could push me around. I asked myself the same thing you’re asking yourself. How could I have not seen that he was going to be so abusive?”

  I just looked at her and listened.

  “Just because we have this ability to help people around us doesn’t mean we can always help ourselves. I’m glad you came to work today.”

  “Me too,” I said finally.

  “Can you promise me something, Indigo?”

  “What?”

  “You won’t give up just yet.”

  I swiped at my tears with the cuff of my shirt. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Okay.” She held up her hand, palm toward me. “How about this: we won’t do any more sessions in the afternoons, but you keep your cards and practice at home.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I reached under the counter for my purse. “Do you mind if I step out for a minute? It’s only ten to nine. I need a smoke.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The rest of the summer passed in a blur, or should I say daze. I went to work, I went home, I ate sometimes, I drank wine and beer to dull my pain, and I smoked at least a pack of cigarettes a day. They did the same thing, dulled the pain.

  Sometimes I sat on my bed and petted Henry for hours on end.

  I tried to read but couldn’t concentrate.

  I could watch mindless television, because then I didn’t have to concentrate.

  And I drank coffee. With Paul. But that was as far as our relationship went—or as far as I allowed it go—even though I enjoyed his carefree company.

  I refused to let him get close or touch me; I knew he wanted more, but being the nice guy that he was, he didn’t try to even kiss me again.

  On the last weekend of the summer, which was a long weekend, I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a glass of wine when the phone rang. Being the closest to the phone, Natalie picked it up.

  “Just a second,” she said. She pulled the phone away from her face. “Indie, it’s your mom.”

  “Right on cue,” I said. My mother called me every day and sometimes twice a day. For once, I liked her hovering, and I looked forward to her often simple, hello-how-are-you calls.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  “Honey, I have some good news,” she said. “Dennis Neufeld has been charged with drug possession. And from what I can gather, the police interrogated him so hard that he also confessed to the attack. You won’t have to testify against him.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the wall. The weight I had been carrying for the month of August lifted, a little anyway, and I have to admit a feeling of relief engulfed me. I hadn’t realized how much the thought of going to a court had worn me down.

  “Thanks,” I finally said. We chatted for a few more seconds, then I hung up.

  “So?” Sarah looked at me wide-eyed. “What was that about?”

  “Spill,” said Natalie.

  “They got him,” I said. “Dennis Neufeld got picked up for drugs and confessed to raping me, so I won’t have to testify against him.” I still had a hard time saying the word rape out loud.

  Natalie and Sarah hugged me hard.

  Although a big part of me was relieved, I still ached inside.

  Sarah flung her arm around me. “Let’s go out tonight.”

  “I have to phone Lacey first,” I said. “And tell her.”

  Of course, Lacey and I ended up talking for 30 minutes. It reminded me of the old times, and for a second, I felt that we were in
grade eight again.

  But those days were gone.

  “So that’s my news,” I said to her at the end of the call. “You must be excited for school.”

  “I can’t believe I’m leaving so soon,” she said. “This time next week, I’ll be living in a dorm.”

  “I have to see you before you go. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come over. We’re going to go out for a few drinks. You can sleep over.”

  Lacey arrived looking like a model, dressed in jeans, high strappy sandals, and a cute little shirt she had just picked up at Le Château with her lifeguarding money. She hugged me.

  “I’m so glad a part of this is behind you,” she said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “Let’s just go out and have fun.”

  The Royal Oak was jammed, but we managed to find a spot on the patio. In late August, the nights cooled considerably, and although it was still nice to be outside, you needed some sort of jacket. My cigarettes were securely stashed in the pocket of my jean jacket, and as soon as we were settled against the railing, I pulled them out.

  “I thought you quit,” said Lacey.

  I shrugged. “I started again.” I lit my cigarette off Sarah’s and inhaled.

  After blowing out a smoke ring, I said, “So … you packed yet?”

  “I’m ready. We’re driving up next week.” Lacey rolled her eyes. “My mom insists on coming and crying, even though I’m only going to be an hour from home. When are you going to visit me?”

  I shrugged and looked at Natalie. “What do you think? You’re the driver.”

  “Anytime,” said Natalie. Her usually bright eyes looked dull, and her voice lacked enthusiasm. My heart suddenly ached. She’d met her mother but hadn’t said anything because of me and my problems. When had that happened?

  I had been so absorbed in my own feelings that I had totally forgotten about that. And Lacey talking about her own mother probably reminded Natalie of hers.

  “How about October? Just before Thanksgiving?” I said. “Does that work for you, Natalie?” I wanted to cheer her up, give her something to look forward to.

  “Sure does,” she answered.

  “That works for me, too,” said Lacey. “Well, I think it does. If I have an exam that week, I’ll let you know. Exams, ugh! What a horrible thought.”

  We stayed at the Royal Oak until almost closing time, and by then, I’d had more than my share of beer. We all had. Walking home, we sang and laughed, and I didn’t care about anything. When we got back to the apartment, I opened a bottle of wine.

  “Let’s have another drink,” I said.

  “Tell me about your card readings,” slurred Lacey.

  I clapped my hands. “Let’s do a reading right now.” I ran to my room and got my cards from the back of my dresser drawer, where they had been stashed since before that awful night. I yanked them out and they tingled in my hands.

  Not like this. Isaiah spoke to me. Not after you’ve had alcohol.

  “Shut up,” I whispered, closing the dresser drawer. “I’ll do what I want.”

  Yes, you will. You always do, and that’s a good thing. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But you do.

  I ran down the hall and back to the living room, where I poured myself a big glass of wine and lit all the candles we had in the living room before turning out the lights.

  “Ohhh,” squealed Lacey. “This is spooky. But so fun. It’s like we’re having a séance.”

  The four of us sat cross-legged on the floor with a big fat candle in the middle of our circle so we could see the cards.

  Sarah laughed. “What are those boards called? The ones that you do séances with?”

  “What boards?” Lacey asked.

  “The ones where you push the little thing around and it answers questions.” Sarah pretended to push something with her fingers.

  Natalie laughed. “Ouija boards. My grandmother had one. My brother and I would steal it and go to our rooms, shut off all the lights, and ask really stupid questions.”

  I laid my cards down on the floor. “Knock them with your fist,” I said to Lacey. “To get all the energy out.”

  “Indie’s really good,” whispered Natalie. “I met my mom, you know.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Sarah asked.

  I put my hand on Natalie’s. “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. “Because of you, Indie, I am,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t warned me what to expect, I would have never survived. She’s a drug addict, always has been, and that’s why she gave me up. She’ll never be the mother I want her to be. She can’t. She put off our meeting for over two weeks. Kept making excuses. Then after finally meeting her, I realized something. I’m glad she gave me up. I’m glad my grandmother raised me. My life would have been awful with her.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It still must hurt.”

  “It does. But we all have our pain.” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas. “I can handle it.” She pointed to the cards. “Let’s play cards.”

  As Lacey shuffled, I thought about John and his mother and how neither of them could deal with their addictions either. My cigarette package flashed in my mind, and I shook my head to get rid of that thought.

  “Indie is amazing,” said Sarah, breaking my thoughts.

  I frowned at her. “I didn’t read you very well at all.”

  Sarah grinned and ran to her room. When she came flying out, she slid across the floor in her socks. “I picked up this piece of paper the other day. Well, it’s actually a brochure.”

  “What is it for?” Lacey asked.

  “Massage therapy school! I went in this vitamin store ’cause I wanted some green tea, and this brochure was, like, sitting there, and it jumped out at me. Then I picked it up and realized this would be something so cool to do. And I got really excited. I looked it up online, and I’m going to register for next fall. I can work really hard this year to save money.”

  “I was here when Indie read for Sarah,” said Natalie with excitement. “She talked about how she would do something with her fingers!”

  We all high-fived, telling Sarah how wonderful that was. I truly was happy for her.

  “Let’s get this séance started,” said Lacey. She pointed to the cards. “Read for me! Tell me if I’m going to find a new boyfriend.”

  As we polished off a bottle of wine, I told Lacey that she was going to meet a guy at Queen’s and he would be a musician.

  “Musician?” Lacey put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “I’ve always loved jocks. A musician! Are you sure?”

  “Yup,” I said. “A musician. And you’re going to get A’s but one C in some stupid course.”

  Lacey smacked her thighs. “I bet it will be that dumb stats course I have to take. I’ve heard it’s soooo hard.” She tapped the cards. “Let’s talk more about the guy!”

  I read her cards for another hour, then the four of us polished off all the alcohol in the apartment. Sarah and Natalie called it quits at three, but Lacey and I finally fell into bed around four o’clock. With just a single bed in my room, Lacey and I were really squished, but it was what we used to do when we were little, except now we had Henry nestled at the foot of my bed instead of Cedar.

  Our shoulders touched as we both lay on our backs staring at the ceiling. The streetlight shone through my bedroom window creating shadows on my walls, jiving one minute, dancing seductively the next.

  “Do you ever wish we could just be little again?” Lacey asked.

  “Yup. When I didn’t know I was weird.”

  “Indie, you’re not weird. You were so good tonight. Do you know you can make a ton of money giving readings like that?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You’re going to rock Queen’s.”

  “I hope so. I’m nervous.”

  “I wish I h
adn’t gone to that party.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Now he’s going to jail, and he deserves it.”

  “That’s a good thing, I guess. Still doesn’t take away what happened.”

  “You’re going to do amazing things, Indie.”

  You should not have read the cards when you were drunk.

  You were just having fun. You’re good at this.

  Could that be true? Could I be good at it?

  “I’m tired,” I said. “Let’s try to sleep.”

  September rolled around, Lacey left for school, and I continued working at Annabelle’s. Paul started university, and we didn’t see each other as much. I missed him but knew it was for the best. Since the river party, I didn’t want him to touch me.

  “I bought you this,” Annabelle said to me one beautiful September day, when the leaves had started turning color so the outside world was full of vibrant reds and yellows and oranges. She handed me a little brown book similar to the one she carried around all the time.

  I furrowed my brow. “What is this for?”

  “You need to start writing stuff down and also journaling your thoughts. You can write things about the cards and keep track of anything you might read in books. Are you still practicing with your cards?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes.” The last reading I had done was the one with Lacey, when we were drunk. I didn’t dare tell Annabelle about that one.

  “Just remember not to read when you’ve been drinking, okay?”

  How did she know? Sometimes it drove me crazy that she just knew everything about me, like, all the time.

  “Okay,” I replied.

  “That’s good,” she said casually. I expected her to say more about it, lecture me, but she didn’t.

  “Would you like to start back on the cards?” she asked. “I have another deck I’d like you to work with.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “The cards are just for help, though,” she continued. “They’re like cue cards. When you start doing readings for clients, I want you to rely on your abilities. Not cards.”

  “I just like reading for my friends,” I snapped. “I don’t want to meet anyone new.” The second the words were out, I wished I could take them back. Annabelle had been so patient with me over the past month.