Indigo (24 page)

No, not this time. “Stop, stop right there.” She bites her lip, but doesn’t continue. Here we go. I’m about to put myself out there again, and I don’t even care. I don’t want to go another day without speaking to her so I want to eliminate any chance of her distancing herself from me. “Didn’t you hear what I told you at the bar? I like you. I want you to like me. I don’t care about your issues, I have some of my own too. Please don’t use me as an excuse to push me away.”

Sighing, she stares out towards the stage. “I’m so bad at this. I don’t really know how to be with someone.”

“So learn with me,” I push, turning towards her. “I’m just asking to spend time with you, that’s all. I like being with you. Do you like being with me?”

Give me something. Anything.

Closing her eyes, she doesn’t answer for a few seconds, but I wait. Finally, “Yes. You make me forget. But I’m scared. I wanted to give you an out here today.”

She looks so vulnerable, half in shadows, so small in her seat. I wish she would let me hold her on my lap. Her comment frustrates me to no end. “Indigo, I don’t want an out! I want freaking in!”

She flinches slightly at my words. “So then…what about those girls?”

Finally, a hint that she does care. I try not to smile as I explain about how Shawn felt snubbed by Sabrina, and how I think he really does like her, but how he also feels like she is the one playing with him. “I had nothing at all to do with them,” I tell her truthfully. “You make me forget too.”

She looks at me fully. “What do I make you forget?”

“Everyone else.”

Our eyes are locked together, and I suddenly want to kiss her more than anything. But for the second time, her phone buzzes at the worst time, and she seems to snap back to reality.

“It’s my mom,” she explains. “She sent me a text before class telling me to check my voicemail. Now she just asked me to call her.”

“Did she leave you a message?”

“No, a random number that keeps calling me did, but I’ve avoided listening to it.”

I feel like there’s something I’m not getting. “Are you going to listen to it?”

She blows out a breath. “Yes. Can you, stay here while I do?”

I grab her hand, not knowing why, but wanting to reassure her. “I’m here.”

I watch her pull out her phone, and then put it up to her ear to listen. Her expression almost immediately sinks and her grip on my hand gets tighter as the call goes on. Something’s wrong.

Out of nowhere, she shoots out of her seat, and then sits back down again as if she doesn’t know what she wants to do. “Indigo, what’s going on? What did they say? Who was that?”

“I have to go home,” she says in response. “Now. I have to go now.”

“What why? Who was that?” Her hand is still in mine, and it’s trembling. I can literally see how scared she is, and I don’t like it. Her breathing starts getting short, and I turn towards her and bring her hand into my chest. “What is it?”

She just shakes her head, and sucks in a tight breath. I’ve never been one to just sit back and let things happen around me, so I grab her phone and take it upon myself to replay the message. She doesn’t stop me, and I can only hope something awful hasn’t happened to her mom.

Indigo, this is Detective Waters with the Norwalk Police Department. I hope you remember me. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past few days with no luck, but it’s very important that I speak with you. You have no reason to be alarmed, but I reiterate that it’s imperative you get in touch with me as soon as you can. If it is easier for me to come to you, please let me know.

I listen to the Detective rattle off a number where he can be reached, and then take the phone away from my ear. If anything, Indigo is even more agitated. “Something’s wrong,” she tells me, her eyes wild with panic. “They wouldn’t be calling me if it wasn’t very important. I asked that no one ever contact me unless it was an emergency.”

She rips her hand out of my grasp and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Okay, let’s calm down. First thing we should do is call your mom, see if she has any answers.”

She nods, grabs her phone out of my hand, and starts fumbling with the buttons. I take it back, go to her recent calls and press Mom before handing the phone back to her again.

Her leg is moving up and down in an extremely rapid motion, and I almost ask her to put the phone on speaker so I can get some answers as to what is making her so upset.

“Mom,” she chokes out. “Why is Waters calling me? Are you okay?”

The phone drops out of her trembling hand and goes flying when it hits the hard floor.

“Shit!” She goes climbing after it, but then screams and clutches at her stomach. I see an errant screw on one arm rest and know she must have snagged herself in her haste. I was up the second the phone went flying, and now I do what I’ve wanted to do all along, pick her up, bend down to grab her phone, and then sit her on my lap. She’s burst into tears, so I put the phone up to my ear. Her mom is miraculously still on the line.

“Ms. Olsen? This is Kennedy Keats, a friend of your daughters.”

“Is she okay?! Why did she scream? Where is she?”

I marvel at the fact that I’m not overwhelmed dealing with two hysterical women.

“She’s right here. She was a little shaken up about a voice mail she got from a Detective Waters, then dropped the phone as she was talking to you. When she went to go pick it up, she got caught up on a screw in the chair, but she’s okay.”

Indigo, who put up no protest when I put her on my lap, is breathing deeply into my shoulder, trying to get a hold of herself. She holds her hand up for the phone, and I hand it over. “Here she is now.”

Probably worried she’s going to drop it again, she puts the phone on speaker. “I’m okay, mom. I put you on speaker.”

“My goodness you scared me honey! I want you to relax and take deep breaths. Everything is okay, I’m okay.”

“It’s can’t be though,” Indigo insists. “They promised they’d never call unless it was dire. Do you know what’s happening?”

A loud sigh, and then, “Are you sure you want this to be on speaker phone?”

Indigo, who I can tell is just realizing where she perched, turns to look at me. She studies me for a few moments then, “I’m sure.”

Amazing what just two words can make you feel.

“Her trial is coming up quickly and it’s starting to get a lot of media attention. There’s a lot of talk about will you or won’t you testify.”

“I’m not,” Indigo puts in immediately. “Nothing’s changed.”

Silence over the line, and then her mom continues. “Detective Waters was hoping you’d change your mind, but he also wants to talk about maybe doing some security detail, just until the trial is over.”

“Absolutely not, mom. I’m already a weirdo around here, that’s the last thing I need!”

“It’s for your safety, there’s still many people insisting you’ll come testify, and you know there are people out there who want to see her free…we need to take every precaution.”

Even though I can only follow parts of the conversation, those words make me stiffen in my seat. I know my assumptions are right when I feel Indigo do the same.

“Then I’m going to release a statement that I’m not testifying. No one will bother me then.”

“There are a few options. The detective wants to meet with you in person to discuss them. Don’t worry Indy honey, we’ll get this figured out.”

“I’m worried about you,” Indigo whispers. “Are you going to be okay? Maybe they should put a security detail on you, just in case.”

“I’m okay when you’re okay. How about I pick you up on Saturday, and we go see the detective together?”

“Okay,” Indigo agrees. “I love you, mom.”

They talk for a few more minutes, and then hang up. Indigo tries to awkwardly climb off my lap, but I wrap my arms around her waist to hold her still. “Are you okay?”

She nods, staring down at her phone. “Yes. I just feel like it’s never going to be over.”

INDIGO

“Explain to me what you mean. What was that conversation about exactly?”

I don’t know if it’s easier to talk about it because I already did with Sabrina the other day, or because I feel comfortable with him, but I explain the phone conversation so he’s in on what’s going on. I tell him about how Joan turned on him when I was caught, about the upcoming trial, about how she might one day soon go free because I won’t testify. And now, I tell him what my mom insinuated, even though I think he already knows.

“There’s probably a few people out there who want to stop me from testifying. They ran with real seedy crowds, so I know my mom is worried. But I’m not testifying.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t fall into a weighted silence like my mom, angry theatrics like the police, or call me selfish like Sabrina when he learns the ugly truth about me not testifying. He just accepts it, and I’m so grateful I nearly throw my arms around his neck. I don’t even feel self-conscious on his lap anymore. It feels, safe.

And right now, it’s the only thing that does feel safe. Thinking that there is any possibility of a threat makes me scared, yes, but more so for my mom, who in turn, is just worried about me.

“You’re safe here, there isn’t anything to worry about.”

I wonder if he means on his lap, or at the school. A sinking feeling starts creeping into the pit of my stomach when I imagine the night I’m going to have.

“It’s going to be so much worse now,” I admit, surprised to hear the words freely come out of my mouth. “I know I told you before I had trouble sleeping.”

He nods, and I feel him staring at me. “What can I do to help? Want me to call my, I mean, someone who works here to put some extra security around your room?”

“I’ll be okay.” No I won’t. But I try not to drag the conversation down with my depressing thoughts even more. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s been so kind already. “And thank you,” I wave my hand around to indicate everything in the past twenty minutes. “For being so patient with me. Again.”

And for not letting me push you away. I don’t say that thought out loud, but I wish I could. I don’t want to end things with him. Not when I was actually feeling good about what we were doing. He seems to be so much better at expressing how he feels, and I wonder again what he’s doing with a basket case like me, especially after what he just learned.

“How is your stomach? It looks like you caught it good.” Strong hands move around to circle my waist, his thumbs meeting to graze lightly over a spot that has pooled with a little bit of blood. I peek up at his face, so strong and solid, but with a soft boyish edge that makes my knees weak.

“I’ll have to check later, I can’t now with my leotard on.”

His gentle thumbs are beginning to distract me, and not in a bad way. Nothing I’ve known so far has the power to take my mind off things more than his touch. I turn to look at him, and can’t believe how good looking I think he is.

I want him to kiss me again, but I have no idea how to ask for it.

“What about your dad?”

I lean farther into him, secretly eating into his warmth and have no problem answering his question. “I have no idea who he is. He found out my mom was pregnant and split. She says I’m much better off, and I believe her.” His thumbs pause in their movement, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. “How about you? I think I’ve heard you mention your mom before, but never your dad.”

He clears his throat. “We have that in common. My dad died when I was young and I don’t remember much about him. All I have left of him is his last name.”