Indigo Summer (9 page)

“Make a right here, Marcus,” she said, and then left a message for Beverly on her cell phone. “She's not answering.”

“You okay back there, little man?” I peered at Justin in the rearview mirror. Tears flooded his eyes and I wanted to cry myself.

 

At the circular drive just outside the emergency room, I put my Jeep in park. Rushed to the backseat, grabbed Justin and rushed him inside. Sasha was right behind me, and both of us called for help.

“Hey there, Justin.” The nurse in rose-colored scrubs, with a name tag which read Jennifer Smith, rushed over toward us. “You here again, little buddy?”

Justin nodded a yes to the nurse who knew him by name, and who had obviously treated him before. Just as quickly, an IV was placed in Justin's arm and he was whisked off and wheeled down a long hallway.

“Hi, I'm Jennifer Smith.” The nurse held her hand out toward Sasha. “And you are?”

“I'm Sasha Jones, Justin's babysitter,” she said.

“And I'm his tutor. Marcus Carter,” I said and held my hand out to her as well. She grabbed it and I gave her a strong handshake.

“Nice to meet you both,” she said, and then turned toward Sasha. “Where's Beverly, his mom?”

“I tried reaching her on the way over, but couldn't. I left her a message on her voice mail that we were here.” Sasha was still shaken up. “I'll keep trying, though.”

“Yep, you keep trying,” Jennifer Smith said. “In the meantime, we're gonna get him started on some oxygen and help to ease his pain a little with some meds.”

“What is this sickle cell that he has?” I had to ask. Everything had happened so fast, I was still in a whirlwind of emotions.

“Sickle cell anemia is a blood disorder that affects hemoglobin, which is a protein found in the red blood cells. Hemoglobin helps carry oxygen throughout the body.”

“Yeah, I learned about that in my biology class,” I told her.

“Well, sickle cell anemia occurs when an abnormal form of hemoglobin is produced, and causes the red blood cells to become odd-shaped or sickle-shaped and makes it harder for them to move freely throughout the body. You understand?”

“A little,” Sasha said.

I just nodded.

“And instead of moving through the bloodstream easily, these sickle-shaped cells can clog the blood vessels and deprive the body's tissues of oxygen, making people who have sickle cell more tired and weak.”

“Can you catch sickle cell from somebody?” Sasha asked, and I wanted to know the answer to that, too. After all, I had been spending quite a bit of time with Justin, and I was the one who had picked him up and put him in the backseat of my Jeep. I wondered if I would end up with sickle cell anemia before it was all over.

“No, honey. It's not contagious.” Jennifer smiled. “You can't catch it from someone or pass it on to another person like a cold or something. People who have sickle cell anemia have inherited from their parents.”

“So Justin's mom has it?” I asked.

“Beverly has the trait, and so does Justin's dad.”

“He kept saying something about his joints aching. What's that about?”

“He's having what we call a crisis, where he is experiencing excruciating pain in his joints. What was he doing when he went into this crisis?”

“He was riding his bike,” I said.

“Was he riding fast?”

“He was racing with the little boy across the street,” Sasha said.

“He probably overexerted himself,” Jennifer said.

“Will he be okay?” I asked.

“He's gonna be fine,” Jennifer said and smiled. “Why don't you have a seat in the waiting room, guys. Grab a couple of hot chocolates, and continue to try and reach his mom. I'm gonna go check on Justin.”

“Hey, tell him not to be scared. We're gonna wait right here until his mother comes,” I told her.

“I'll be sure and tell him.” She smiled and then disappeared.

After she walked away, I exhaled. This was way too much excitement for one day.

Marcus

Beverly
rushed through the automatic doors in the emergency room; her Waffle House uniform held a million grease stains. Her eyes were bloodshot from the exhaustion of working two jobs as she searched the waiting room for familiar faces. She spotted us, as we sat there, sipping Styrofoam cups filled with hot chocolate and watching Seinfeld reruns on the television that hung in the corner of the room.

“Sasha!” she called and rushed toward us.

Sasha stood and her anxiety kicked in again.

“Miss Beverly. I don't know what happened. One minute Justin was riding his bike, and the next minute he was on the ground in pain.” Sasha was almost in tears. “I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. I'm just glad that Marcus was there to drive him to the hospital, and…”

“Hey Marcus.” Beverly turned to me, gave me a warm smile. “You drove him here?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” She touched my face with the palm of her hand. She was so calm, it was unbelievable. Sasha and I had been so scared and raised such a fuss, but Beverly kept her composure.

“I'm just glad I was there to help.”

“I'm glad, too.” She smiled. I could tell that she'd been through this before. She was unshaken. “I'm gonna go check on Justin. This usually takes most of the night and I know you both have school tomorrow. Have you called your parents?”

“I called my dad and told him where I was,” Sasha said.

“I checked in with my pop, too,” I said. I had called my father once the madness had settled down, and my heart had stopped pounding so fast.

“Good,” Beverly said, and readjusted her worn purse on her shoulder. “Marcus, can you drive Sasha home?”

“Yes, ma'am, I can do that,” I said.

“You sure you don't need us to stay?” Sasha asked.

“Yes, I'm sure.” She smiled. “I've been through this with Justin a million times. Once the meds kick in and they get him comfortable, he'll be just fine. I'll call you both and let you know when he's out of the woods.”

“Okay, cool. Because I need to know that he's alright,” I said.

“I promise I'll call you.”

“Good.” I pulled my keys out of my pants pocket and turned to Sasha. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” she said, and then hugged Beverly. “I hope Justin's okay.”

“He'll be fine, honey,” she said and then hugged me too. “Thanks again to both of you for getting him here.”

“No thanks needed.”

Before we could say our goodbyes, she had made a mad rush toward the nurse's station to find out which room they had Justin in. She looked over her shoulder at us and waved. That was our cue to go. We waved back and then exited through the automatic doors.

 

We were both quiet for most of the drive to Sasha's house. My thoughts were on Justin, and at one point I had even said a little prayer for him. He had really grown on me over the past few weeks, and I enjoyed tutoring him in math. He had become my little buddy. I often went home with a heavy heart, wishing Beverly had more money and could make ends meet a little better. I knew she was struggling just to keep food on the table for her and Justin. My plan was to drop by Kroger one day this week and buy her some groceries with my next paycheck. I had even scoped out Justin a pair of sneakers at the mall after I noticed the rundown ones he wore every time I saw him.

Beverly was a nice lady, always offering me something to eat whenever I tutored Justin. She even tried to pay me for my services once, but I refused to take it. Watching Justin's eyes brighten when he understood how to work through a problem, was payment enough. One night after tutoring Justin, Beverly handed me a brown paper bag. Said they were brownies loaded down with walnuts. She didn't know I had a soft spot for chocolate brownies. Inside the brown paper bag was a Ziploc baggie with three chocolate brownies inside. At the bottom of the bag, underneath the brownies, was a crumpled up twenty-dollar bill. I just smiled, and vowed that I would do something nice for Beverly and Justin. They both deserved it.

As I pulled up in front of Sasha's house, I glanced over at her. She'd fallen asleep and her head kept bouncing against the passenger's seat in my Jeep. I just watched her for a moment, and then gently grabbed her hand. She sat straight up, observed her surroundings, checked her mouth for drool and then looked at me.

“I fell asleep.”

She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know.

“You should wipe that slobber off your mouth.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What slobber?” she asked.

“Right there,” I said and ran my fingertips across her lips. I leaned in and soon my lips found hers. Her kiss was sweet and tender as we both closed our eyes and savored the moment. Her kiss tasted like the Now and Later that she'd popped into her mouth right after we left the hospital—sweet and strawberry-flavored.

“I hated what happened to Justin today, but I enjoyed being around you,” she said.

“Same here.” I had to admit, it felt good being with her. “I want to see you again. Can we go out on Friday night?”

“I can ask.”

“Your daddy strict?”

Just then, the porch light popped on, and a middle-aged gentleman stepped outside wearing an old bathrobe that barely covered his middle-aged paunch. I knew about the paunch, because my pop had one. Sasha's father wore reading glasses and pushed them down on the tip of his nose, and peeked over the top of them to get a better look at the car parked in front of his house.

“I better go,” Sasha said.

“Can I call you tonight?” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, ready to key her phone number in.

“It's best to e-mail me. Sashagirl at aol.com. I can't talk on the phone after ten on a school night,” she said, and then opened the door. “I'll see you in cyberspace.”

She hopped out of the car and rushed onto her front porch. Her father was saying something as they both went inside. The porch light went out, and then someone peeked through the blinds to see if I'd pulled off. I wondered if it was Sasha, catching one last glance at yours truly, or if it was her father, making sure I found my way off of his property. Either way, I pulled slowly from the curb and found my way home.

 

I crept into the kitchen, put the food away. Step-Mommy-Dearest had baked some chicken, cooked green beans with no real taste to them and had some other concoction I didn't recognize, sitting there on the stove untouched. I stuffed it all into the fridge and wiped down the counters. After loading the dishwasher and starting it, I peeked in on Pop who had fallen asleep in front of the television in the family room. I started to wake him, but knew he had an early morning. Instead, I pulled a blanket over him and then bounced up to my room. Opened the window and threw a Skittle at Indigo's window. It took me four throws before she drew her blinds and raised her window.

“It's about time you got home,” she said.

“Were you waiting up?”

“No,” she lied.

“Had a crisis tonight,” I told her. “The little boy, Justin, that I've been tutoring got sick. He has sickle cell anemia and had an attack.”

“An attack?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it serious?”

“Serious enough to rush him to the emergency room.”

“For real? Is he okay?”

“I hope so. His mama is supposed to call and let me know.”

“I'll pray for him tonight,” Indi said, her thick hair pushed back and wrapped in a silk scarf. She wasn't embarrassed about coming to the window with a scarf on her head either. That's what I liked about her. She wasn't afraid to be herself, unlike most girls. She was different. She didn't wear a lot of makeup and stuff, trying to be something she wasn't. She was still pretty, even with that rag on her head. She wore cotton pajamas with some cartoon character on the front of her shirt.

“What you been doing today?” I asked her.

“Went to the mall with Tameka.”

“What did you buy me?”

“I didn't buy you nothin' with your ugly self.” She smiled as she insulted me.

“Ugly?” I rubbed my palm across my face. “You call this face ugly?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You better take a mental picture of it, so you can dream about it tonight.” I laughed.

“Shut up, Marcus,” she said. “Good night with your stupid self.”

“Good night, Indi. Sleep tight.”

She shut her window. I shut mine, too. Sat at my computer desk and turned on my computer. Logged onto my e-mail and saw that I had twenty-two new messages. Most of them were junk e-mails and I just went through and deleted them. Two of them were from a girl in London that I'd met online last summer. I'd never seen her in person, but she was nice to talk to. She had become my pen pal over the past year. Another e-mail was from my ex-girlfriend, Kim, asking me how I liked my new school. I hit the delete key. I hadn't spoken to her since she'd said, “let's just be friends,” and the next day I saw her in the car with another dude.

One e-mail was from my mother, checking in to say hello. Said she was in San Diego on business and promised to pick me up a souvenir while she was there. I shot her a quick response and gave her my love, told her that I missed her. She immediately sent an IM, instant message, asking if I was interested in coming to live with her. How could she just IM me something like that, right out of the blue? IMs were for quick responses, but I didn't have a quick response to a question like that.

After Hurricane Katrina, the monster that had totally destroyed her home in New Orleans, Mom relocated to Houston and bought a condo there. She'd been living there for almost a year and said that once she got settled, she'd like for me to come and live with her. I didn't take her seriously. Thought she was just saying something in passing. Mom was always promising to send for me, or promising that she would come for a visit. But her job almost always came first. She never made good on her promises, and it only left me heartbroken in the end and took me too long to recover. I stopped putting my heart and soul into her promises; just took them with a grain of salt. I still loved her though.

When my parents were going through their divorce, I had to see a therapist to help me through my crisis. The therapist helped me to talk through what I was feeling. I was in a rage, because I felt as if my entire life had been turned upside down. And then in the midst of it all, Mom decided to drop me off at Pops one night, and then disappeared. Ended up in New Orleans with my grandparents. New Orleans is where she'd grown up as a girl; it was her home. I remembered summers there with my grandparents when I was small. Granny would make her famous Creole dishes, like gumbo with the big, fat juicy shrimp, corn on the cob and sausages in it. She'd make jambalaya and we'd eat crawfish by the dozens. She could really cook, but she was the meanest woman in the world. Making me come inside before the streetlights came on, and if I didn't she'd pop me with a belt.

“Marcus, don't let dark hit you,” she would always say. Which meant, don't stay outside playing after dark. “You be inside before the streetlights come on, you hear?”

I would always nod a yes, but miss curfew every time. Then I'd end up getting the beating of my life. Granddad was different. He was much nicer, and took me fishing a lot. We'd drive to Mississippi which wasn't that far from New Orleans, and fish in the Gulf of Mexico, sit on the bank with our poles launched into the water waiting for a bite. He'd tell me stories of when he was a boy, and have me laughing until my stomach hurt. Granddad was cool. That is, until he got Alzheimer's disease. Now he didn't even know my name. After the disaster, my grandparents moved to Mississippi and Mom moved to Houston.

Would love for you to come live with me now. What do you think?
her IM said.

Her IM had caught me off guard. I hadn't really given Houston much thought when she'd mentioned the possibility months ago. Houston was a much better place to raise children, she'd said. Plus she missed me like crazy and couldn't wait to have me around again. I honestly didn't think she was serious; figured she enjoyed her life without me too much. This was definitely something I'd have to give some thought to. I responded.

I'll think about it and let you know.

Give it some serious thought, baby. You'll love Houston. There's a beach here,
she said.

Really?
That caught my attention. I loved the ocean. It brought back memories of Granddad and me at the Gulf of Mexico. I always loved going there, diving into the water in my trunks.

Why don't you come for a visit one weekend? You'll love it.

That sounds cool,
I typed back.