Indigo Summer

by Monica McKayhan

  He just grunted and readjusted in his sleep.

  “Daddy,” I called, giving it a shot.

  “Harold.” Mama nudged Daddy again. This time he opened his eyes at least.

  “Good morning, Daddy,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Who’s that child at the door, Carolyn?” he asked teasingly. “Is she lost?”

  “It’s Christmas morning, Daddy,” I said. “We have gifts to open.”

  “Did she even go to sleep last night?” He eyeballed my mother and asked.

  “Yes, I slept last night,” I said impatiently. “Now can we go open gifts?”

  “We’ll meet you downstairs,” Daddy said, and gave me a look that said, “now please go away.”

  I did…go away. Shut their door behind me and went back downstairs to give my parents a chance to wash their faces and brush their teeth. But anxiety had the best of me.

  After our ritual gift exchange, I rushed upstairs and showered. Ironed the outfit that I’d picked up at the mall the previous weekend, an outfit that had been carefully chosen with Quincy in mind. I’d tried it on at least six times throughout the week and couldn’t wait for him to see me in it. From the moment my feet hit the floor that morning, I started counting down the hours until Quincy would arrive. I’d picked him up a jersey from one of the stores at the Underground, a mall in downtown Atlanta. It was the perfect gift, along with the Burberry for Men cologne that I picked up, too, and had them both specially gift-wrapped. After shopping for Quincy, I barely had enough left to buy those house shoes for Daddy, the sweater from Casual Corners for Mama—they were having a holiday sale—and those sterling silver earrings for Nana. They were small gifts, but hey, I’m a teenager without a job. For Jade and Tameka I would catch the after-Christmas sales. They would understand.

  Quincy was supposed to visit with his family for most of Christmas day, but promised that he’d make it to my house by early afternoon. I made him commit to three o’clock. I’d barely talked to him on Christmas Eve or the day before because he had out-of-town guests—cousins, uncles and aunts from Pittsburgh. Things had sort of changed between us since Thanksgiving weekend, our second major date. A date that had landed him at my house at seven, tapping on my front door. We ended up at Steak and Shake for burgers and fries. Afterwards, he announced that he needed to drop by his house for a minute, wanted to make sure he’d locked up because his parents were out of town for the weekend.

  “Come on in for a minute,” he said, once we pulled into his circular drive.

  I followed him inside the huge, two-story house that smelled of fresh paint, and carpet that looked brand-new. It was almost as nice as some of the homes I’d seen on MTV Cribs, just not as big. Still carrying my chocolate shake, Quincy showed me around their minimansion. His parents’ bedroom looked like a little house all by itself. I dreamed of owning a home like that someday, and having a husband like Quincy to share it with. We’d have two little kids, a boy and a girl, and maybe a Golden Retriever to watch the house while we traveled to the exotic places, like Tahiti, for a vacation.

  “What’s on your mind?” Quincy asked, after we found ourselves in the downstairs den. I’d plopped down in an oversized chair in the corner of the room. He hit the remote for the television and the surround sound made me feel as if we were at the movie theater.

  “Nothing. Just thinking how pretty your house is.”

  “It’s alright.”

  “Your parents must be rich…” I said “…with a house like this.”

  “Nah, if they were rich, they wouldn’t have to work as hard as they do. This is the first vacation that they have taken in two years,” he said.

  “I guess you have to work hard if you want nice things, right?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” he said and then grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let me show you my castle.”

  We trekked upstairs to Quincy’s bedroom. It was a huge room, with a tall ceiling. I could put my bedroom inside of his and still have room left over. He had a bathroom right off of his bedroom, with a Jacuzzi tub and separate shower, which he shared with his younger brother, Travis. His room was decorated with a blue-and-green comforter that matched the curtains, and photos of professional football players were carefully organized all over the walls. Some of them were autographed.

  “Have a seat.” He sat on his bed and invited me to sit next to him.

  I knew it was a good time to suggest that we go catch that movie that we were supposed to be catching. That’s where I told my parents I would be. But suddenly the plans had changed, and here I was in Quincy’s bedroom, while his parents were away, swapping kisses with him on his full-sized bed.

  “Just relax,” he said as his hands began to touch places on my body that I wasn’t even aware existed.

  His lips found the back of my neck and he planted kisses there too. Before I knew it, my Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, that Uncle Keith had sent me last winter, was over my head and thrown to the floor. Quincy had removed his shirt and thrown it on the floor, too, revealing his bare chest and a small tattoo on his right arm. I was sitting there in my pink sports bra, chill bumps running up and down my arms, my flesh being seen by another human being, other than Nana or my pediatrician, for the very first time. There were girls who would kill to be in Quincy’s bedroom with him, all of their clothes thrown on the floor in a pile next to his. But here I was, desperately trying to come up with an escape plan. A way of saying “no” again, even though it would be the death of our three-and-a-half-month relationship. He was oblivious to the butterflies floating around in my stomach as he continued to leave a trail of kisses all the way down my back.

  My cell phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans. It startled me at first, but then I was grateful for the diversion. I reached for it, and Quincy held onto my hand.

  “Let it ring,” he whispered and squeezed both my hands.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I have to see who it is. What if it’s my parents?”

  He shrugged.

  I reached for my cell phone again. This time Quincy was patient, as I pulled it out of my pocket and tried to answer it. It was too late. The call was missed, but I pressed a few buttons and found out that it was Jade.

  “Who was it?” He asked.

  “My father,” I lied. “He left a message.”

  I logged into my voice mail. Entering the password, I listened to Jade’s message.

  “Hey, big head, it’s me. Where are you? You were supposed to call me the minute you got home from your date with Quincy. Are you still out with him, girl? What did you end up wearing? What did he have on? What did y’all go see at the movies? Did he take you to McDonald’s to eat or what? What the heck did y’all talk about? Call me. And hurry up!” She asked a million questions, but only one stuck in my head. “Indi, did you give up the booty? Call me.”

  “I have to go,” I told Quincy.

  “What did he say?” he asked.

  “He said that I need to get home right away,” I lied again. “He sounded mad, too.”

  “For real?” He asked, rushing to pull his shirt over his head. “Did you do something wrong?”

  “Who knows?” I shrugged, and quickly put my sweatshirt back on. “He gets like that sometimes.”

  Quincy’s demeanor changed. He became quiet and standoffish as he ushered me out of his room, down the staircase and through the front door. After that, things were never the same. Even his walking me to class seemed artificial, as if he was just going through the motions. There was no enthusiasm in his voice when we talked on the phone, or when he saw me on Monday after a long weekend. In fact, it was me who did all the calling. If I didn’t call Quincy, there was a good chance we might not talk. When he did call, it was in return of my phone call. I sought him out in the mornings before school to say good morning, and rushed over to the football field after dance team practice just to say good-night. Things were definitely different.

  Still, I made him promise to come over on Ch
ristmas Day.

  “I’ll try, Indi,” he said. “I have relatives from out of town here. It’s going to be hard breaking away.”

  “You have to,” I said.

  “It will have to be sometime in the afternoon, after I spend time with them,” he’d said. “I’ll see if I can get my mother’s car.”

  Three o’clock had come and gone. It was a quarter past five and I was becoming restless. I called his cell phone three times, and had left two messages. Christmas was nearing its end, and there was no Quincy. Mistletoe hung in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, a rib roast had been cooked in the oven, cakes and pies were all over the dining room table. Opened Christmas gifts and wrapping was scattered about; I’d received just about everything I’d asked for—a brand-new stereo, gift certificates from Victoria’s Secret, Charlotte Russe, 5.7.9, and the Disney store. Every CD I asked for, I got. A leather Gucci purse and a pair of boots were mine too. But no Quincy.

  When the doorbell sounded, it echoed through the entire house. I exhaled and shut my eyes for a moment. I didn’t want to seem anxious, so I let someone else get it as I observed myself in the bathroom mirror. My eyes were still a little puffy from crying, but they weren’t bad. A little Visine would clear them right up. I refreshed my lip gloss and combed my hair.

  “Indi,” Mama called, and I waited a few minutes before answering. “Indi, you got company.”

  My heart beat a little faster than its normal pace. I couldn’t wait to see Quincy. Even though he was over three hours late, my anger seemed to vanish the moment the doorbell had rung. I walked slowly down the steps and could swear I heard Mel’s laughter echo through my house. It was definitely a woman’s voice that I heard. It was definitely Mel.

  “Hey, Indi,” Tameka said. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and handed me a package wrapped in silver paper. “Merry Christmas, girl.”

  I grabbed the gift, a flood of emotions rushing through my veins. I hoped my disappointment wasn’t obvious, as I faked a smile.

  “Hello, Indi,” Mel said. She was dressed in sexy low-cut jeans and a sexy top. “Santa Claus been good to you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, and gave a half smile.

  “Open the gift,” Tameka urged. “Hurry up.”

  Inside was a set of silver bangles and a matching pair of hoop earrings.

  “Thank you,” I said, and hugged Tameka. “These are cute.”

  “Did Quincy ever show up?” she whispered as we embraced.

  “Not yet.”

  I said “yet” because for some crazy reason, I was still hopeful.

  When Mel and Tameka invited me to the movies, I declined.

  “Might do you some good to get out of the house, Indi,” Nana said.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Mel agreed, as the two of them rearranged my evening for me.

  “Come on, Indi. Go with us,” Tameka said.

  I was afraid that if I left my house, Quincy might show up. But after much convincing, I agreed to a movie with Mel and Tameka. Anything was better than sitting at home.

  A bag of popcorn in one hand, and a soda in the other, we searched for the auditorium where our movie was showing.

  “Here, hold this,” I told Tameka. “I have to go really bad.” I bounced around as my bladder was about to explode. Mama told me about holding it until the last minute. She said I would damage my insides by doing that.

  I handed Tameka my popcorn and soda and made a beeline for the ladies room. As I swung the door opened, I slammed into a girl coming out. Looked up and discovered it was Patrice Robinson, dressed in a pair of tight jeans that looked as if they were painted onto her body.

  “Dang, watch where you going,” she said and rolled her eyes when she realized it was me.

  “Excuse me,” I said with attitude and walked on past her.

  “You excused.”

  After handling my business, I stood in the mirror for a moment. I washed my hands, and made sure my hair was okay. Tameka and Mel waited for me just outside the door. As I strolled toward them, I caught a glimpse of Quincy standing in the line for the concession stand. I dropped my purse at the sight of him. He was dressed in a Michael Vick jersey and a pair of jeans that sagged a little. His arms were wrapped tightly around Patrice’s small waist and hers were around his neck, as they gazed into each other’s eyes and shared a kiss. Her round hips and overdeveloped body was pressed up against his. He was lost in the moment until his eyes met mine. Instantly he dropped his hand from her waist.

  “Hey, Indi, what’s up?” he had the nerve to ask.

  “Yeah, what is up, Quincy?” I asked.

  “You know Patrice, right?” He smiled. Patrice smiled, too, and gave a little superficial wave.

  “Hey, Indi,” she said.

  I didn’t even address her. I spoke directly to Quincy. “What are you doing? I been waiting for you all day. You said you were coming by,” I said.

  “Me and Patrice been hanging out today. She gave me this jersey for Christmas,” he said, and turned so that I could see the back. “You like it?”

  I just stared at him in disbelief. His mouth was moving, but I had lost track of what he was saying.

  “Are you okay, Indi?” Mel asked. Her and Tameka were both by my side now.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “He’s a loser. You don’t need that. Drop him like a bad habit,” Mel said, and wasn’t whispering.

  But I couldn’t let it go. “Why are you hanging all over Patrice like that?”

  “Me and Marcus is together now,” Patrice boasted. “Tell her, Marcus.”

  “Yeah, tell me Marcus,” I said to him.

  He didn’t say a word. Just stood there looking like the cat who had swallowed the canary.

  Suddenly, I felt Tameka’s hands on my shoulders.

  “Let’s go, Indi. Forget him, he ain’t about nothing,” Tameka said, pulling me away.

  “We can leave if you want to, Indi,” Mel said. “We can see a movie another time.”

  I was so happy that she said that, because I was on the verge of tears. Couldn’t wait to get outside so I could let them go. I couldn’t cry in front of Quincy or Patrice. They weren’t even worth my tears.

  “You wanna leave?” Mel asked.

  “Yes,” I whispered, and before I knew it, we were in the parking lot at Mel’s car. I didn’t even remember how we got there.

  My heart was hurting so badly. Worse than anything I had ever experienced. Worse than the whipping I got with Daddy’s belt when I cut up at school. Worse than the punishment I received when my grades dropped. So much worse.

  My first real boyfriend, and my first real heartbreak all at the same time. It was too much to handle.

  Chapter 23

  Indigo

  Christmas Day didn’t feel much like Christmas after all.

  Mama and Daddy had already retired for the night, but Nana was still up when I got home. She sat in the recliner next to the window, the moonlight hitting her face, reading glasses resting at the tip of her nose, as she flipped through a Jet magazine.

  “Movie was over that fast?” she asked when I walked through the door. Fighting mad, I snatched my winter coat off, slung it across the chair in the family room. Life was so unfair, and it seemed that God just allowed it to be that way.

  “We decided not to go.”

  “Saw Quincy at the movies, did you?”

  “Mel called you?” I asked, and she nodded a yes.

  “You okay?” she asked softly, and I’d held onto the tears up until that moment. They crawled down my light brown cheeks.

  “No, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “You wanna talk about it?” she asked. “It always helps to talk things through.”

  I kneeled at Nana’s feet and rested my head in her lap. She stroked my hair, as the tears began to rush down my face like a waterfall.

  “No, I don’t wanna talk about it,” I mumbled, and continued to cry. I had cried all the w
ay home in the backseat of Mel’s car, too. “Not right now.”

  “Okay, then. We won’t talk about it right now,” she said. “But I do have one thing to say, Indi. You’re not the first girl to have her heart broken, and this certainly won’t be the last time, either.”

  “You mean I’ll have to feel this way again someday?”

  “Most likely, yes.” Nana was nonchalant about the whole thing. “It’s something that we all go through at some point in our lives.”

  “You had your heart broken before, Nana?”

  “Plenty of times,” she said.

  “By who?” I asked and sat up. Looked into her eyes.

  “I remember when I was a young girl, a little bit older than you are now. There was a young man who lived on the other side of the railroad tracks. His name was Sonny. Sonny Ray. I tell you, I was crazy about that fella. He was handsome, a spiffy dresser, had charisma—he was about eighteen years old at the time. I was probably sixteen, maybe seventeen. Had my head in the clouds for about six months, Sonny did. I mean I was gone, had the biggest crush. Well, one day he decided he was going away. He had joined the United States Navy, and decided he was going to sail the seas. “‘Once I get settled, I’m coming back for you, Virginia. That’s what he promised. ‘I’m sending you a train ticket to wherever I am and we getting married.’ I was so excited! Ran around telling everybody, me and Sonny getting married. Just as soon as he get settled, he’s gonna send for me.”

  “Did he send for you, Nana?”

  “A whole year went past before I heard from him again. And when he finally breezed through town, he had another woman hanging on his arm, her belly poked out as big as a watermelon. They had gone down to the justice of the peace and got married, and was expecting a child.” She leaned back in the recliner. “Needless to say, that was the end of me and Sonny Ray.”

  “Did you do something? Say something?”

  “Wasn’t nothing to be said, baby. He had made his choice, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. My heart was broken for a little while, but I got over it. I survived. It didn’t kill me—you see I’m still here. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wasn’t the last. I had many more heartbreaks after that,” she said. “You see, baby, we all make choices in this life, and sometimes we hurt others in the process. Sometimes we get hurt ourselves. But as long as we don’t die, and we learn something from it, then we have to go on.”