Becoming Indigo

by Tara Taylor

  What was wrong with me? I had been feeling so good. Now I was off again.

  It had been like this all weekend. Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

  Dizzy, I closed my eyes, but vertigo took over my body, spinning me around and around, so I opened them.

  Something had shifted. The energy in the room was different. What was it?

  Lacey leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I don’t want you to freak out, but You Know Who just walked in.”

  My throat instantly dried. My palms started to sweat. And an electrical current jolted through my body.

  Just like it used to.

  I slowly turned my head, and there he was, staring at me, his face a web of distress and anguish and his eyes a red mess.

  John.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The minute I saw him I got up and went to him. Almost as if I were on automatic pilot. “What … what are you doing here?”

  John’s red eyes pierced me, like a sharp blade. The vibrations my body had felt all weekend had escalated, and I was visibly trembling.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “I could ask you the same question.”

  “I came to see Lacey.” I looked away. I didn’t want to see his red eyes.

  He leaned over, and the smell of soap and cigarettes made my pulse quicken and a current surge through my body. His warm breath circled me when he whispered in my ear. “Indie, I need to talk to you.”

  My parched throat made swallowing hard, and I tried to create some moisture that would allow me to speak. “Let’s go outside,” I muttered.

  “You still smoke?” he asked when we were out in the cool night air. He pulled a pack out of the pocket of his purple buttoned shirt. I’d never seen him wear such a bright color before.

  “Sure do,” I said.

  He lit one and handed it to me. And I accepted without hesitation. I inhaled deeply, wanting the smoke to calm me, but it didn’t and my mind raced as I wondered what I was doing, standing outside with him.

  “What are you doing in Kingston?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Seeing friends.”

  Silence drifted over us and became intertwined with the cigarette smoke with each inhalation and exhalation.

  Finally he spoke. “My mother has cancer.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  He tilted his head back and gazed at the sky. “Ovarian cancer.” He blew out smoke, then looked my way. The desolate expression in his eyes punctured my heart, and I didn’t know if I should cry or reach out and hold him in my arms.

  “I told you I had to talk to you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He ran his hand through his hair. “She found out a few weeks ago.”

  “Can it be treated?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. The doctor said it’s already at stage four, and it’s spreading fast.”

  “John, I’m so sorry.” I stubbed my cigarette out in a metal bin that stood beside me before I reached for his hand. It was cold. I remembered when I first read my cards, alone in my bedroom, and I asked about John, I had felt the pains in my abdomen. That must have been what that was, pains for his mother.

  He butted out his cigarette and pulled me toward him and hugged me hard. Wrapped in his arms, my heart beat against his, and I knew he needed me to be strong.

  “She’s going to die,” he whispered in my ear.

  I desperately wanted to tell him that she was going to be okay, but I couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come out, because in that moment, I knew John’s mother wanted to die.

  Suddenly, he pulled away from me and held me by my shoulders. His sharp gaze went right through my eyes and deep into my body. “She’s going to die, isn’t she, Indie?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You know things before they happen.” He put his hand under my chin so I couldn’t look away. “Can you see her dying, Indie?”

  “Death isn’t something I can see,” I said, holding his stare. “She’s tired, John.”

  He dropped his hand from my jaw and kicked the ground. “She won’t live for me.”

  “She’s trying.”

  His shoulders slumped, and he looked off into the dark night. “Not hard enough.”

  I had seen things about John’s mother, horrible things, and I knew that no matter how much she loved her son, she was dying because she couldn’t live with the guilt. So many times, I had thought about telling John about my vision … that I saw his mother kill his father. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t my secret to tell.

  I looked into John’s sad, red eyes. He didn’t need to know. I had been right not to tell. It wasn’t my place.

  “I’ve got a hotel room tonight,” he said. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Just for an hour or so.”

  I went back into the coffee shop and tapped Lacey on the shoulder. “I’m going to spend a little time with John and catch up,” I said. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  Lacey shook her head at me. “Don’t,” she said.

  “I have to, Lacey,” I said. “His mother has cancer. He needs a friend.”

  Natalie put her hand on my arm. “Lacey’s right. Think about my song.”

  All the weird jitters in my body had returned, and it was as if someone inside me had flipped a switch to make me vibrate. “I have to,” I said.

  Lacey hugged me. “See you later.”

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  John and I left the coffee shop, and at first we just walked side by side without touching, but once we were away from the crowd and alone, he reached for my hand. I didn’t pull away. I liked his touch.

  “My hotel isn’t far from here,” he said.

  “I just want to walk for a bit,” I said.

  “I have to go back there,” he said. “Come with me. Please, Indie. I need you. I’ll walk you back in a little while.”

  “Okay,” I conceded.

  The grungy hotel room reminded me of Miles and my horrible maid job. I grimaced when I entered and immediately felt the bugs under my skin.

  Leave, Indie. This time Isaiah spoke firmly.

  I knew I should leave. All my gut instincts said get out.

  Be a friend, Indie. You can handle this.

  I stiffly sat down on the end of the bed. John sat beside me, and our thighs and shoulders touched. Everything in my body quickened, and my heart squeezed. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.

  “You’re the only person I’ve wanted since I found out about my mom.”

  I didn’t answer.

  He lifted my chin, tenderly this time, and made me look into his eyes. In all the time I went out with him, I could never see through his dense gray eyes. Not once. He was a mystery to me, someone dark and deep, and his eyes were like blurry pools with demons lurking below the surface.

  Finally, I said, “I have to go.”

  “No,” he murmured in my ear. “Stay. Just a little longer.”

  Unexpectedly, I felt his lips on mine, and my body ignited into fiery flames. I kissed him back with a shocking intensity, as if it wasn’t even me. We fell back on the bed, and he touched me everywhere, and I thought I was going to explode.

  “You want me?”

  Out of my mouth came the word yes.

  A few hours later, I awoke to voices outside the motel door. I reached for John, but the other side of the bed was empty. I sat up. Where was he? The door creaked open, and I snuggled under the covers, pulling them over my naked body. The draft from the outside entered the room, and I curled into a ball. When I touched my bare skin, I felt dirt. Cold, ugly dirt.

  John tiptoed back into the room and shut the door very quietly. Then he sat on the chair by the little wooden table. I pretended to sleep but kept my gaze on him. He emptied the contents of a little pouch onto a mirror and took a rolled-up bill and stuck it in his nose.

  My heart raced. All the rumors were true. I didn’t want to believe it. I closed my eyes when he snorted. The sound echoed off the cheap walls.<
br />
  I had to leave.

  But he wouldn’t sleep now.

  After he snorted, he sat up in his chair and tilted his head back, his hair falling back behind him. Within minutes, he was tapping his foot. He got up and started pacing. In time, minutes perhaps, he would want me again.

  “John?” I tried to sound as sleepy as possible. “Are you awake?”

  “Indie.” He shoved the rolled-up bill in the drawer before he came over to my side of the bed and sat down. He stroked my hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said gently. “I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep, thinking about my mother.”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered. I touched his arm. “Can you get me a soda? I’m so thirsty.” I knew the machine was down the sidewalk and behind a carport area by the front lobby.

  “Sure,” he said.

  Of course he would. At this point, being so high on cocaine, he would do anything to be outside, smoking a cigarette, just to keep moving. As soon as I heard the door latch, I quickly put on my clothes, grabbed my purse, and opened the door a crack. I peered outside, and when I couldn’t see him, I ran out the door and into the dark night.

  “What happened last night?” Lacey asked me the next morning as Natalie and I were packing. She sat on her bed in her pajamas, watching us get our stuff together.

  “Nothing. We just talked.” I couldn’t look at her. Lacey, my friend. I was lying to her because I was ashamed. What had I done? Why had I slept with John? I’d been awake all night. How could I have gotten so sucked in? My heart felt as if it weighed a million pounds.

  What would Paul think of me now?

  The guy cared and had never, ever been anything but kind to me. Would I have to make up lies for him as well? Was I falling deeper and deeper into a well of darkness?

  “What time was it when you came in?” Natalie rolled up the foam mattress.

  I picked up the tie for it. “Not too late,” I replied. “Around three.” As Natalie held the mattress, I wrapped the tie around it. “What did you guys get up to?” I couldn’t meet her gaze.

  “We came back here.” Natalie gently tossed the foam to Lacey who caught it like a football. “And talked for bit. Then we went to bed.”

  “We missed you,” said Lacey.

  “I need a shower before we head back.” I picked up my towel and shampoo and walked out of the room.

  Natalie and I barely talked on the drive home. All the energy I’d had over the weekend had disappeared, and I leaned my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes. Exhaustion seemed to seep from every pore in my body.

  Why had I done it? He was wrong for me. Why had I gone back to John? I still felt dirty and cheap.

  It was as if it hadn’t been me in that hotel room. Not me at all. I wasn’t someone who fell into bed with anyone.

  John isn’t just anyone.

  Paul would be devastated if he knew. Sure, we hadn’t agreed to be exclusive, but this would hurt him so much. So not only did I hurt John by doing something I shouldn’t have, but I would also hurt Paul. Why was I causing so many people so much pain?

  “So,” Natalie broke my thoughts, “are you really keen on a trip to Scotland and Ireland like we talked about yesterday? I’m game if you are.” Natalie sounded serious.

  “Absolutely.” I tried to exude some enthusiasm, but I think I fell flat. Reviving my plans for a trip would give me something to concentrate on. If I took on two jobs to pay for it, I wouldn’t have to see anyone, and I could just work. “Let’s start planning,” I said.

  She held up her thumb. “You betcha.”

  “You can take your guitar and sing in the pubs.”

  “Oh, yeah. And get material for new songs. And you can visit ruins and commune with the dead.”

  I tried to laugh.

  We drove another couple of miles before she spoke again. “It’s none of my business,” she said carefully. “I don’t know John … very well … but I don’t get a good vibe from him.”

  “His mother is dying.”

  “I know you wanted to be a friend.”

  “I was … more than a friend,” I said quietly.

  “You slept with him?” Natalie almost swerved off the side of the road. She slammed on the brakes, and we pulled over.

  I nodded. “I hate myself.”

  Natalie put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t. You made a mistake, that’s all.”

  “A big mistake.” I slouched in my seat and stared out the window.

  For the rest of the drive, I gazed outside at the passing trees and listened to the radio. I turned it up full blast, and neither of us talked. Around two in the afternoon, we pulled up in front of the apartment and I saw the SOLD sign in the front window of George’s store.

  “Wow,” I said. “That was fast.”

  “That’s for sure,” replied Natalie.

  “I’m going to miss George so much.”

  “I didn’t really know him,” said Natalie. She cranked the wheel and parked the car.

  We got out, and Natalie pulled her guitar and fiddle out from the backseat.

  “You were amazing last night,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she replied. “And, Indie, thanks for believing in me. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten on that stage.” She paused and glanced at me. “Promise me something? Don’t throw your dreams away for a guy, especially one who will never make you happy.”

  “Okay.” The one word barely made it out of my mouth, but she heard me.

  I lowered my head. Tears were again on the surface of my eyes. “See you upstairs. I want to visit George,” I muttered before I turned and walked quickly toward the store.

  The OPEN sign for the store wasn’t turned around, but I could see a light in the back of the store, so I tried the door, and it opened. The bell tinkled when I entered, but I didn’t see George.

  “George,” I called out.

  No answer.

  Perhaps he was working on something in the back? Why would he leave his door open, though? That was unlike him.

  I glanced around. “George,” I called again.

  Screech. Screech. The sound was slow but steady.

  My heart constricted, my body broke out in a sweat, and all the bizarre twitching and pulsing that I had felt over the weekend returned. My frayed nerves hummed inside my body as if they were alive and ready to zap.

  Screech. Screech.

  The noise came from the back of the store. I stepped forward, looking through the furniture to see where the light was coming from.

  Suddenly, I saw her in the rocking chair: Green Lady. She rocked back and forth. Back and forth. The noise was the sound of the chair.

  She hadn’t left. Why? Annabelle had warned me that she might not have gone. Why hadn’t I listened?

  I started to shake, and my knees were ready to buckle. “I thought you had gone to see your baby.” My voice trembled.

  She sang a lullaby. And rocked back and forth.

  “George,” I whispered, “are you here?”

  When he didn’t come running, I knew he wasn’t even in the store. She had probably opened the door. She had been the one moving things on him! She’d left our place and come to stay in the store.

  I would have to tell George about her the next time I saw him. But right now I had to help her.

  Annabelle had told me to just tell the ghost to go. “You need to go through the light,” I said.

  Screech. Screech. Back and forth.

  “Please,” I begged. “Your boy is there.”

  She stood up and looked at me. “He is?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Go to the light. He’s waiting for you.”

  Suddenly, behind her something glowed, almost as if a huge flashlight had been turned on.

  “Go,” I said softly. “Please, go.”

  She turned, tilted her head, and stared at the light. Then a little boy appeared and held out his hand. She walked forward.

  And disappeared.

  The room
turned dark and cold. My body shook and trembled. My stomach heaved. My head ached. And I felt as if I had little bugs crawling on my skin. I had helped Green Lady, but I hadn’t protected myself, and now I was open. Wide open. I was doing everything wrong.

  I ran outside, gasping, and leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Then I collapsed in a heap on the ground, wrapping my arms around my knees.

  I entered Annabelle’s Angels the next day, and as soon as Annabelle saw me, she held up her hands for me to stop moving toward her.

  “Your energy is worse than it was on Friday,” she uttered.

  “I’m so sorry.” I hung my head. Last night I’d gone to bed at seven and slept all night. When I woke up in the morning, after 12 full hours of sleep, every jitter in my body was gone but I was exhausted beyond belief. Yes, I had sent Green Lady to the light, but that didn’t take away the fact that I was an absolute mess.

  Why had I slept with John? What would Annabelle think of me?

  “Go to the back room.” Annabelle pointed to the door. Then she moved around me in a big circle to get to the front so she could turn her OPEN sign to CLOSED.

  My feet were glued to the floor, and I didn’t move.

  “Indie, you have to do this. Go. Okay?”

  I hurried to the back room and flopped down in the pink chair. I’m not sure how long I sat there, with my head resting on the back of the chair, but my mind wouldn’t turn off.

  I had slept with John. Probably hurt Paul. Lied to Lacey. And George was leaving because I didn’t get rid of Green Lady the first time. She had been the one moving things. I had pushed her aside instead of helping her.

  Indie, George wanted to sell his store. Isaiah spoke to me.

  “Why do you care about me?” I asked.

  Face it, Indie. You’re just a fuck-up.

  “And why do you keep bugging me? Sometimes you help me, like with Miles, and sometimes you just make everything worse.” I put my hands over my ears and rocked back and forth. “I should never have listened to you.”

  “Indie.” Annabelle spoke from the door.

  I sat up straight.