Deal With It (4 page)

Oh, yeah? Try telling my dad that.

“That’s cool. I’m glad you won your case,” I said.

“I made your favorite. Chicken tortilla soup.” She smiled. “Why don’t you go on upstairs and get cleaned up, and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Okay,” I said. “A scout from Grambling was at my practice today.”

“Really?” She smiled.

“Mom, I really wanna go there. I’m not really interested in Duke.”

“I know that, honey.” She touched my face. “Things will work out in your favor.”

“You think so?” I asked, really wanting an answer. She had always been my biggest cheerleader, my encourager.

“I know so.” She smiled. “Now go say hello to your father. He’s in his office.”

I took the stairs two at a time. Once at the top, I peeked into Dad’s office.

“Hey, Dad.” I announced my presence.

He was reclined in his chair, his feet on top of the desk, a newspaper in his hand. “Hey, son. Come on in. How was school?”

“It was cool.”

“Have a seat.”

I took a seat in the chair on the other side of my father’s desk, the side where his patients usually sat either before or after he’d pulled their teeth or performed dental procedures that were too painful to think about.

“Check this out. That Elliott Williams kid is something else.” He handed me the newspaper to read the article myself.

I looked at the picture of Elliott Williams, Duke’s guard from Memphis, going up for a layup. I scanned the article, which talked about Williams’s high school years at some school in Tennessee, where he averaged 24.7 points, 7.2 rebounds and 7.1 assists for a 24–3 team; and about how he was voted Tennessee’s Mr. Basketball. The article also said that he maintained a 3.7 grade-point average, which was about like mine. Colleges were going crazy trying to recruit him.

“The Blue Devils are lucky to have that boy,” Dad said.

“He had other choices, though,” I reminded him. “He could’ve gone to Memphis, Virginia, Clemson. They all wanted him.”

“But he chose Duke,” Dad said, right before his phone rang. “Now what does that say about the school?”

When Dad answered his phone, I tried to excuse myself from his office, but he motioned for me to stay. I patiently waited as he finished his conversation.

Once he hung up, he said, “Your mom and I are going to Philly this weekend to see your grandmother. We need to make some decisions about her health, review her medicines and make sure she’s taking the right things. Besides, she’s missing us like crazy.”

“Yeah, I miss her, too,” I said.

My grandmother was aging quickly. Just last year she’d been traveling to places like Las Vegas and the Caribbean with her friends. Then, after her stroke, she could barely even talk. She didn’t seem like the same grandmother who used to take me to the corner deli in Philly for a real Philadelphia cheesesteak when I was a little boy, or to a 76ers game at the Wachovia Center. Nobody was a bigger 76ers fan than her.

“Anyway, we are leaving early Friday morning and will probably be back on Sunday night. That should get you and Lori back in time for school on Monday.”

“Do I have to go?” I asked. “I have a game on Friday night, and I really can’t miss it.”

“Your grandmother is really looking forward to seeing you, son. She hasn’t seen you since Thanksgiving.”

“I know, Dad. And I really miss her, but this is important to me. If anybody would understand, it would be Grandma. She understands basketball,” I pleaded.

“You’re right about that,” Dad agreed. “I don’t see why you have to go. You can stay,” he said. “I just need for you to handle yourself in a responsible manner while we’re gone. Take care of the house like a man.”

Staying home alone was nothing new to me. I’d done it before.

“Is Lori going with you guys?” I asked. My weekend would be destroyed if my little sister was staying home with me.

“Yes, Lori’s going,” Dad said. “You’ll be here by yourself. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m fine with that.”

Dad’s phone buzzed again.

“I gotta take this,” he said, “but we’ll talk later.”

I excused myself and went down the hall to my bedroom. Excited about the fact that I would have the whole house to myself for an entire weekend, my adrenaline started flowing. What could be better than this? I dropped my backpack in the middle of the floor and fell backward onto the bed. I was tired. Practice was exhausting. Coach had acted like he had an attitude with us or something, and we all felt it. I shut my eyes for a moment. I needed a shower bad just to soothe my aching muscles, but I didn’t even feel like turning it on. I couldn’t move.

“Mom said come and eat, stupid.” Lori popped her head inside my doorway.

I looked up and glared at my sister. Her best friend, Nina, stood next to her.

“Hi, Vance.” Nina waved and smiled.

“Hey, Nina.” I gave her a nod.

“Ooh, did something die in here? It stinks!” Lori said. “You need to clean up this rat hole.”

“Get out!” I yelled. I wasn’t in the mood for my sister and her stupidity.

“You’d better get downstairs and eat,” Lori said and then disappeared. A few seconds later she appeared in the doorway again. “Right now.”

Nina, who stood next to her, giggled and waved again. Twelve-year-old girls were silly.

My body wanted to hop in the shower. My mind told me
to get up. My stomach growled and wanted food. But I couldn’t move. I lay there, completely clothed—coat and all—my eyes facing the ceiling. When my cell phone buzzed, I knew it was Tameka calling, but I didn’t even have the energy to pull the phone out of my pocket.

Before long I had drifted off to a point of no return.

Indigo

There
were stop lines, no-passing lines, crosswalk lines, edge lines, lane lines—too many lines to remember which was which—but I did the best that I could. Daddy patiently sat in the waiting area as I took the written exam for my learner’s permit. He’d spent lots of time over the past few weeks preparing me for this, going over the driver’s manual and quizzing me on the rules and regulations found inside. He’d also allowed me to practice driving a few times in the school’s parking lot. And he hadn’t fussed very much when I ran over the orange cones while trying to parallel park.

“Driving takes practice, Indi,” he’d kept saying.

Driving also took coordination. And coordination I had. After all, I was a member of the hottest dance team in the Atlanta metro area. I knew how to move one part of my body while moving another part at the same time. But for some reason, when it came to moving the front tires of a car in the opposite direction of the steering wheel in order to parallel park, I had absolutely no coordination whatsoever. The good thing was, I
knew the driver’s manual inside and out: I had studied it every day since the beginning of the school year. And that was all I needed for a learner’s permit. By the time I turned seventeen, I would have parallel parking down to a science. I was already enrolled in drivers’ ed for the upcoming summer, so there I would learn all the ins and outs of maneuvering a car.

I took a seat next to Daddy in the waiting area and dug deep into my Baby Phat purse in search of a piece of gum. I popped my last piece of Big Red into my mouth and glanced up at the huge clock on the wall. It was ten o’clock on a Saturday morning, and I was just minutes away from being legally able to drive in the state of Georgia—that is, as long as there was an adult in the car. I didn’t care that it wasn’t a full-blown driver’s license. A permit was good enough for now. I could hardly sit still in my chair, thinking about it. All I needed was a fly photo, I thought as I pulled my compact out and took a glance in the mirror. My hair was okay. I dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, smacked my lips together and rubbed a little bit of sleep from the corner of my eye with my fingernail.

I tucked the compact away, sat up straight in my chair and asked Daddy, “So, can I drive us home?”

“Hmm.” He thoughtfully placed his finger on his chin. “You think you can handle that, Indi? Home is a long way from here. It’s not like driving in the school’s parking lot, and it’s not our regular practice route.”

“Daddy, I have to learn how to drive on regular roads if I’m ever going to get my license,” I said. “Of course I can handle it.”

“Well, you know there are some tricky twists and turns between here and home.”

“Daddy, it’s a straight shot.”

“But there’s that left turn on Jonesboro Road. You know, the one right there at the BP station,” he said. “And that’s a pretty busy intersection right there by the Rib Shack.”

“You worry too much. I can handle it.”

“Well, if you think you can handle it—” Daddy smiled nervously “—then I guess you can drive us home.”

Yes!
I exclaimed silently, where only God and I could hear. I didn’t say it out loud, because I didn’t want Daddy thinking I was too excited, too eager. I had to appear calm and in control. “That’s cool. Don’t worry. I’ll get you home safe and sound.”

I gave the woman behind the counter a subtle smile as she snapped my picture. Didn’t want my smile to be too big. I wanted to be laid-back and have a somewhat sexy look on my face. After all, I would be using the permit as ID, too. There was no telling who might be checking out my photo. When she handed me the laminated piece of plastic, I wanted to skip to the car. I couldn’t resist showing it off to the nerdy girl with braces who had sat next to me during the exam. Both of us had nervously toiled over the answers to the multiple-choice questions. Now she sat nervously next to her mother in the waiting area.

“Got mine,” I told her, with a huge smile on my face. “What about you?”

She dropped her head. “I didn’t pass.”

“For real?” I felt bad for her. “You know you can always take it again.”

“I know. I’ll have to come back another day,” she said. “But congratulations to you, though.”

“Thanks,” I said, and then I gave her a smile and followed Daddy to the parking lot.

He tossed me the keys to the truck, and I hopped into the driver’s seat. I looked serious as I adjusted my mirrors, strapped on my seat belt and put the truck in Reverse. Daddy was pretending not to be nervous, but I could see in his eyes that he was as he pulled his seat belt across his huge stomach. He was shaking in his boots, probably wishing he had a brake and ac
celerator on the passenger’s side. He adjusted the heat to knock the chill off. The leather seats were cold against my behind as I carefully pulled out into traffic. At the light I hit the brake too hard and sent both of us toward the dashboard.

Daddy glanced over at me. “Remember to hit the brake gently, and start slowing down before you get to the light.”

He was so calm. I was so proud of him. He was a much better passenger than Mama was. She was always yelling when I did something wrong, and that only made me more nervous. But Daddy was a trouper. He sat there pretending to be unshaken.

“Sorry, Daddy,” I said and made a mental note to work on braking gently.

As I pulled the truck into our driveway, I noticed Marcus standing on his front porch, watching. The hood of his sweatshirt covered his head, and his hands were stuffed into the pockets. He smiled my way and then walked over to the truck and opened my door.

“Hello, Mr. Summer,” he said to Daddy.

“Hey there, Marcus.” Daddy smiled and stepped out of the truck on the passenger’s side. “She did it,” he said with pride. “She got her permit.”

“I don’t believe it. Let me see,” Marcus demanded.

I pulled the piece of plastic out of my purse and handed it to him. He studied the permit for a few seconds and nodded his head. “Now if you could just learn how to drive, you’ll be all right.”

“I
can
drive,” I said with attitude. “Tell him that I can drive, Daddy!”

Daddy was already on the porch, pushing his key into the lock of the front door. “She needs some work, but she’ll be fine,” he said. “She got us home safely, and that’s what mattered most.”

“See, I got us home safely,” I said matter-of-factly, “and that’s all that matters.”

Marcus wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I inhaled his Kenneth Cole cologne—the fragrance that I’d bought him for Christmas. His lips gently brushed mine. “Congratulations,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” I whispered back.

Marcus—the guy of my dreams—had been my boyfriend for eleven months and twenty-six days. In less than a week, we would be celebrating our one-year anniversary. We were made for each other, despite the fact that we’d almost broken up over the summer. It had actually been my idea to make the stupid pact that we’d made—a pact to split up during our summer vacation, just in case one of us met someone new. We risked losing each other forever. Luckily, fate was on our side, and we’d ended up back in each other’s arms by the end of the summer. No more pacts!

“I was headed to the mall. You want to come?” he asked. “Maybe we can check out a movie or something.”

“Terrence isn’t going?”

“Don’t start, Indi.”

“I’m just messing with you.” I smiled. “Which mall?”

“Maybe Perimeter or Cumberland,” he said.

“Cool. Let me just ask my parents if I can go.” I jogged toward my front steps. “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t have time to change clothes and put on makeup and all that, Indi. Just ask and let’s go.”

It was as if he’d read my mind, because that was exactly what I had planned. I had already mentally picked out what I would wear—my new pair of jeans and my fuchsia top. I needed to do something different with my hair, tame it a little bit. I’d planned on freshening up and splashing on one of my Victoria’s Secret fragrances. I also wanted to change out of my Chuck Taylor sneakers, which I’d worn to the DMV, and put on a pair of high-heeled boots. Marcus knew that I couldn’t show up at
the mall just any old way. You never knew who you might bump into. If we were just going to Stonecrest Mall, well, there would probably be no need to change clothes—what I had on would’ve been fine. I knew everybody who hung out there, anyway. But Perimeter Mall or Cumberland Mall—those were a different story. There would be lots of new faces, and good impressions were important. Marcus would just have to wait.

“I’m not playing, Indi. I’ll leave you if you take too long,” he threatened, even though he wasn’t serious. If he left me, there would be hell to pay. He was always threatening to leave somebody. Especially on school mornings, if I took too long toasting my Pop-Tart, or if I spent too much time giggling with my girlfriends after dance-team practice. He was all bark and no bite.

“I’ll be right back, Marcus. I promise.”

It was a lie, and I knew it as I took two steps at a time, rushed inside and made a dash for the kitchen, where my mother was frying some chicken. Time was of the essence, but I had to do what I had to do. I grabbed a paper towel and stole a piece of chicken when my mother’s back was turned.

“You’re not slick, Indi. If you’re gonna eat, sit down and fix a plate,” she said.

“No time, Ma. I wanna go to the mall with Marcus,” I said. “Can I?”

“You haven’t cleaned up that room, Indigo. And I need you to fold those clothes that are in the dryer,” she said. “I told you to do that last night, before you went to bed, and you haven’t done it yet.”

“Please, Mama. I promise I’ll do it when I get back,” I pleaded. “We won’t be gone long.”

“You better not be gone long, and I mean it.” She was giving in. “You got stuff to do around here.”

“I know. I promise I’ll do it as soon as I get home.” I kissed her cheek and then rushed upstairs.

As Marcus and I strolled past Bloomingdale’s at Perimeter Mall, I was grateful that I’d changed into something more fly. I couldn’t be outdressed by the girls who passed by and stared, with those envious looks in their eyes. I had to be able to fit right in, especially since they were also checking out my boyfriend.

“What are they looking at?” I had to ask as we passed by a group of girls who took turns staring at Marcus as if he were a piece of country-fried steak.

“Who?” Marcus asked, as if he was oblivious to all the attention.

“Those chicken heads that just passed by.” I intertwined my fingers with his, just to let them know that we were together. “They were staring way too much.”

“Hey, Marcus,” one of them said, with a little too much sweetness in her voice, while the rest of them looked on.

“What’s up?” he responded, all smiles.

What was he smiling at?

“Nice game on Friday night. You were good.” She grinned, her lip gloss shining as she licked her lips in a sensual way. Her overdeveloped breasts were screaming from the tightness of her shirt—they wanted to be free. “I can’t wait till we play your school again.”

“I remember you,” I interrupted. “You’re that cheerleader who fell from the top of the pyramid at halftime. Are you okay?”

She had to be embarrassed. She’d fallen pretty hard, and there were sighs from everyone in the gymnasium as all eyes fell on her.

“I’m fine.” She was annoyed that I had busted her out in front of Marcus.

“Good. ’Cause you fell pretty hard,” I continued. I wanted to teach her a lesson about pushing up on somebody’s man and acting as if I wasn’t standing right there. With a little smirk on my face, I said, “I thought you were really hurt.”

She rolled her eyes and led her posse away. “See you later, Marcus.”

Marcus cut his eyes my way, with disapproval, of course.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“You a trip.” He wrapped his arm around my neck, almost in a headlock, and we headed toward the movie theater. “You wanna check out a movie, or what?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to be jealous about other girls, you know.”

“I wasn’t jealous, Marcus. She just disrespected me.”

“Disrespected you how?”

“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand,” I said. “You were too busy smiling.”

“I’m just saying. You never have to worry about that. I’m yours, and you’re mine,” he said. “You’re the only girl I want. Okay?”

“Okay.” I smiled. I needed to hear that.

I wasn’t really worried. The girl in question was no competition for me, but I had to always stand my ground—make my presence known. Otherwise, females would walk right over me, and that was unacceptable.

As Marcus handed me a tub of buttery popcorn, I kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” I whispered.

There! I was the first to say it. So what? It was true. I did love Marcus. Although neither of us had ever verbalized it to the other, I felt a strong desire to tell Marcus what I was feeling for him…at that moment. Right there in the movie theater’s concession-stand line. Then it hit me!
What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he doesn’t love me back? What if he doesn’t say it, too?