Deal With It (13 page)

Indigo

The
mall on a Friday afternoon was more like a morgue. Nobody hung out there during the week. I was anxious to return the jeans that I’d picked up at Macy’s during their one-day sale, and since I didn’t want to go to the mall by myself, I dragged Tymia along for the ride. Daddy agreed to drop us off and pick us up in an hour, while he ran over to Home Depot for tools to fix our upstairs toilet. Once inside the department store, we headed straight for the juniors department, in search of a pair of jeans that actually looked better on than they did on the hanger.

“And this time you should try them on before we leave the store,” Tymia said. “Don’t just assume they’re gonna look right.”

“I plan to,” I said and started sorting through the jeans rack.

Tymia and I danced to John Legend and Andre 3000’s song “Green Light,” which was playing over the speaker system. She actually knew the words and sang along—loudly.

“We should do a routine to that song,” I teased.

“We should,” Tymia said. “It’s a nice song.”

“It sounds like pop or rock, and not at all like John Legend,” I said. “Is he getting weird or what?”

“He’s a little different,” Tymia agreed, “and Andre 3000 has been weird.”

“The routine would go something like this,” I said and started moving my hips as I made up something as I went along.

“That’s good, but we need to add a little bit of this.” Tymia started moving to the music and mocking my routine, but she added a few steps of her own.

An older saleswoman walked over just in the nick of time, her glasses at the tip of her nose. She was much too old to be working in the juniors department. She couldn’t have known anything about young adult fashion.

“May I help you ladies?” she asked.

“No, we’re fine,” I answered, “but thank you.”

Now go away.
That was what I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue instead.

“Let me know if you need some help,” replied the saleswoman.

She slowly walked away, and Tymia and I continued to bounce to the music. It was hard finding a pair of jeans that was within my budget, but I finally located a pair that was just a little more than I was willing to pay.

“Here. Hold my purse while I try these on,” I told Tymia.

The jeans were perfect. I turned to get a better glance at my butt in the mirror, slipped my hands into the back pockets. They were definitely going home with me, I thought.

When I stepped out of the dressing room, Tymia was busy talking to Asia and who else? Benedict Arnold, of course—aka Jade Morgan. I walked up behind Tymia, grabbed my purse from her shoulder.

“Hey, Asia,” I said, completely ignoring Jade.

“What’s up, Indi?” Asia asked. “You’re returning those jeans you bought the other day, huh?”

“Made my butt look flat,” I said.

“That didn’t take much,” Jade mumbled under her breath.

“What you say?” I asked Jade, with attitude. I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her right, but it had sounded like she’d said, “That didn’t take much.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Jade had attitude right back.

“Yeah, but it sounded like you were talking about me,” I said.

“So what if I was?” Jade hissed.

“Then say it to my face.” I was in her face within seconds.

“I’m not afraid of you, Indigo,” Jade said and stood her ground.

“No, you’re just afraid of Miss Martin!” I yelled. “So much so that you have to snitch on your friends.”

“My friends?” she asked. “Are you calling yourself my friend?”

“Not anymore,” I said. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?”

Asia stood in between us. “Those jeans are cute, Indi. Do they look cute on?” She was trying desperately to change the subject, defuse the fire that was already burning inside me. I didn’t have time to discuss jeans with Asia. I was fired up and needed to get some things off my chest.

“You could’ve covered for me that day when I had a detention. That’s what friends would do!” I continued with the argument.

“You shouldn’t have gotten yourself in detention. You know how Miss Martin feels about problems,” Jade said, sounding more like a school administrator than someone who had once been my best friend. “You put me in a bad position.”

“This dance-team-captain stuff has gone to your head,” I said and tapped my finger right on her forehead.

“Don’t put your hands on me,” she warned. “I think you’re just jealous that you’re not the team captain.”

“Jealous of who? You?” I asked. “Everybody knows I’m a way
better dancer than you. Not to mention my grades are better,” I snapped. “I’m a better team player—”

“But your attitude stinks!”

“Your attitude stinks, you two-faced, brownnosing…”

Before I knew it, we were on the floor in Macy’s, rolling around like guests on
The Jerry Springer Show.
Asia was pulling Jade off me, and Tymia was holding on to my arms to keep me from swinging again. The department store’s security guard was on his walkie-talkie as he approached; his counterpart followed close behind. The two of them dragged us both off, through the store.

“Call my daddy!” I yelled as I tossed my cell phone to Tymia. “His number’s in my phone.”

The saleswoman who’d tried to help Tymia and me earlier looked on as Jade and I were taken away like common criminals. A frown on her face, she shook her head in disgust. “I knew they were trouble the minute they walked in here,” she said as we passed.

I rolled my eyes at her. Wished she would get hit by a truck.

Tameka

When
I felt something crawling on my face, I gently brushed it away. I felt it again and brushed it away again. The third time, I gave myself a slap on the face and then sat straight up in bed. Giggles filled the room as my twin cousins, Nick and Nate, stood over me. It was the tail of Nate’s toy dinosaur that had been crawling on my face.

“Are you gonna sleep forever?” Nick asked.

“Not with you two in the house,” I said.

They both giggled.

“Can you hook up the PlayStation in here for us, Tameka?” Nate asked.

“No!” Roni walked into the room and answered for me. “If you wanna play video games, you need to go in the room with Jason.”

“He won’t let us play,” Nick whined.

“Too bad.” Roni stood firm. “You can’t play in here. We’re about to watch
Real Housewives of Atlanta
reruns.”

“Hey, Tameka,” Alyssa greeted me as she walked into the
room, carrying a paper towel filled with potato chips. She hugged me, and I grabbed a chip.

“When did y’all get here?” I asked.

“About an hour ago,” Alyssa said. “Aunt Helen wanted us to wake you up for dinner, but your mom said to let you sleep.”

“The barracuda lady can really get on your nerves sometimes.” Roni rolled her eyes and then started surfing through the television stations.

“All the adults are goin’ over to the funeral home to plan Grandpa Drew’s funeral,” Alyssa said.

There was that word again—
funeral.
I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want to think about it.

“So what’s been going on, Alyssa?” I asked. “You still messing with that boy that Uncle Rich chased down the street when he caught him in the house?”

Roni and I laughed.

“Nope. I got a new boyfriend,” Alyssa announced. “He’s fine, too. Plays football.”

“Your high school football team sucks,” Roni said.

“He doesn’t play for my high school team.” Alyssa smiled. “He plays for FAMU.”

“He’s in college?” I asked.

I wanted to protest, but the truth was, I had been in her shoes before. I had dated a boy who was a freshman at Morehouse College when I was a freshman in high school. He was supposed to be a senior in high school, but he’d skipped a grade. So technically, he was a senior in high school and not really that much older at all.

“Shh, not so loud,” Alyssa said. “I don’t want those two little rug rats in there all up in my business. All I need is for my daddy to find out.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “My daddy is the same way. He thinks that I’m still a little girl sometimes.”

“I know. I hate it!” Alyssa exclaimed. “I’ll be fifteen in a couple of months.”

“I don’t know, Alyssa. How old is this dude? Eighteen? Nineteen?” Roni asked.

“He’s nineteen.” Alyssa grinned.

Roni and I were both in shock. Our mouths opened at the same time; our eyes were the size of saucers.

“Oh my God! Nineteen?” I asked.

“You dated a boy who went to Morehouse, Tameka!” Alyssa reminded me.

“He wasn’t nineteen,” I clarified. “He was seventeen. He was supposed to be a senior in high school, but he skipped a grade. So that doesn’t count.”

“Well, excuse me,” Alyssa said. “T. J. is just so mature. He’s not like the stupid little boys who go to my school.”

“Of course not. He’s a grown man!” Roni said. “Dude can vote if he wants to.”

“And he did vote…for Barack Obama, thank you very much!” Alyssa snapped her fingers as if she’d just said something brilliant.

“Are y’all having, you know, sex?” I had to ask. “Because if so, he could go to jail, you know.”

“We haven’t yet, but I’m thinking about it,” Alyssa said. “What about y’all? Are y’all having it with your boyfriends?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Roni stated, and both of them looked my way for my response.

Alyssa smiled. “Well, Tameka? Inquiring minds want to know.”

I couldn’t help blushing.

“You don’t have to answer,” Roni said. “We already know by the look on your face.”

“Okay, I won’t,” I said.

“Please tell me that you are using protection,” Alyssa said.

“Of course,” I mumbled.

“Aha!” Alyssa said. “So you are having it.”

“We did it one time,” I finally admitted.

“We?” Roni asked.

“Me and my boyfriend, Vance,” I said. “He’s a senior in high school, Alyssa. He’s not in college.”

“When…?” Roni asked. “When did it happen?”

“A couple of weeks ago. When my parents came down here to check on Grandpa Drew when he had his first heart attack,” I said. “Vance came over. We popped in a Lloyd CD—”

“Lloyd!” Alyssa and Roni said it at the same time, and then both of them giggled.

“What’s wrong with Lloyd?” I asked. “They were love songs!”

I could always share things with my cousins that I couldn’t share with anyone else in the world. Not with my mother…not with my girlfriends. My cousins and I had started sharing things when we were five. They were like the sisters I’d never had. Whatever we shared never left the walls of our pink bedroom. There were secrets that these walls had kept for many years—like the first time Brandon and I had rubbed up against each other, or the first time Roni had kissed Tyler, French-kissed. And the walls still held the details of the time that Alyssa had showed Kevin her pink-and-white panties in Grandpa Drew’s backyard—and Kevin had showed her his tighty-whities. The older we got, the more serious the secrets became.

“Why didn’t y’all listen to some Usher?” Alyssa asked. “With his fine self.”

“Or some Robin Thicke!” Roni said.

Alyssa jumped onto the bed and got closer to me. “How was it?” she whispered.

What an embarrassing question,
I thought as I could feel my face turning beet-red. If ever there was a chocolate-brown girl that could turn beet-red, it was me.

“Quit. You’re embarrassing her,” Roni said.

“I want details! I’m still a virgin, and I wanna know if it’s even worth it to go there,” Alyssa said.

“You’re still a virgin? With a boyfriend in college?” I asked.

“Yep, for now,” Alyssa admitted. “Roni, you’re a virgin, too, right?”

Roni looked away as if hiding something.

“Roni,” I said, “you are still a virgin, right?”

“Let’s change the subject.” Roni’s face became serious.

“Are you holding out on us?” Alyssa asked. “Tameka, she’s holding out on us.”

“I’m not holding out! I just don’t want to talk about it.” Roni left the room, and I could’ve sworn she was crying. The bathroom door slammed. Something wasn’t right.

Alyssa and I looked at each other, dumbfounded.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Alyssa said.

And that was the end of that conversation.

A family meeting was called when our parents returned, and the details of Grandpa Drew’s funeral arrangements were shared. The service was scheduled for Saturday afternoon at the church where we attended Sunday school when we were little kids. Two family cars would pick us all up at the house and drive us to the church.

The conversation turned sort of eerie when Aunt Helen said, “The funeral home did such a nice job of embalming him, don’t you all think?”

A nice job of embalming him? Was she crazy?

“Mom, that’s kinda gross.” Roni rolled her eyes and said what I was thinking.

“Well, they did,” Aunt Helen insisted and then turned to her brothers, my daddy and Uncle Rich. “I think we should bury him in his navy-blue suit. The one he wore to Rich and
Annette’s wedding. And I like his red tie, the one that I bought him for Christmas last year.”

“Well, I like his gray pin-striped suit. It’s not so dark and gloomy,” Aunt Beverly interjected. “And I can’t stand that red tie.”

“Well, the gray suit doesn’t really go with his skin color that well. He always looked so handsome in navy blue,” Aunt Helen said.

“Daddy didn’t wear dark colors. He was a happy man, and I think we should bury him that way,” Aunt Beverly said.

“It doesn’t really matter to me what he wears,” Uncle Rich stated. “It’s not gonna matter after the coffin is closed, anyway.”

“Well, we need to decide for the services,” Aunt Helen snapped. “People are gonna see him there, and he needs to look nice.”

“Let’s ask Mel and Annette,” my daddy said.

Mommy smiled at Daddy. “I tend to agree with Beverly. Daddy Drew was a happy and upbeat man, and a gray suit sounds much better.”

Aunt Annette, with her Puerto Rican accent, spoke up. “The gray suit does sound a little better to me, too.”

Aunt Helen stood. She looked upset. “I think the decision making about my daddy should be left up to his children, not his daughters-in-law,” she said.

Mommy and Aunt Annette looked disappointed. Grandpa Drew had loved them both like daughters, and he would’ve been upset at Aunt Helen for excluding them from anything. Luckily, they knew how Aunt Helen could be sometimes. Besides thinking that my mom had ruined my daddy’s future by getting pregnant at sixteen, she also thought that Uncle Rich should’ve married someone from his own race. Although Aunt Annette was mixed with two races, African-American and Latina, it was the Latina side that Aunt Helen had a problem with.

“Daddy loved Mel and Annette as if they were his own
daughters, Helen. You know that,” Aunt Beverly said. “But if you insist on a decision coming from his blood children, then I vote for the gray pin-striped suit.”

“Me, too,” Daddy said.

“Gray sounds better to me also,” Uncle Rich stated. “And personally, I like his burgundy silk tie. The one he wore to your wedding, Helen.”

“Fine. I guess I’ve been outvoted, then. Y’all can bury him in whatever you want to. I don’t really care,” Aunt Helen said and then headed for the kitchen. “Children, you need to go get washed up for dinner.”

At the dinner table everyone ate in silence. So much sadness in a house where there had once been so much joy.