Indigo: The Saving Bailey Trilogy #2 (28 page)

“All better.” I sigh and fall onto his stomach. He gathers the cardigan around my shoulders and pulls it up to my neck.

“Never felt better,” he says kissing the top of my head. “Go to sleep, I’m comfortable this way, with you pressed against me.”

“What if we get customers?”

“Are you serious?”

“Just kidding,” I say.

My old friend silence returns. The sun beats through the glass doors and windows of the store and it heats my back. It makes me sleepy and relaxed. “Spencer, what do you think happens to these moments? Do they last only now, or do they go on past their time, past us walking out of them?”

“I like to think they stay behind, like pictures or temple rubble, so we can look back on them and remember the exact feeling they gave us.”

I have many more memories similar to this one. Ones with feelings so strong they are forever engrained in my soul, my bones, my flesh.

Moments with Spencer. Moments with Clad. I would be forever torn between the two, if I had to choose which to live in.

Our hands clasped, like two children running from their parents to have more play time, we slip into the guest bedroom and hide in a fortress of covers and pillows.

“We’re not in a thrift store, anymore,” Spencer says. And those moments—the ones that I could never choose over his—bring me feelings.

I am on the couch with Clad; his hands are in my hair, not Spencer’s. His lips are on mine, not Spencer’s. Everything I’m feeling is suddenly a lie. Caught in a black swan effect, I know I will not give over to either side.

“I need to take a shower,” I say, leaving Spencer on the bed, grabbing air where my body was.

“Now?”

“I’m covered in blood! For Christ’s sake, Spencer!”

“Does your nose still hurt?”

It’s the loophole I need to escape. “A lot,” I say, pouting. “Maybe the hot water will help.”

“Okay, honey, I’ll wait for you here,” he says with sympathy.

I wrap the shower curtain around me as I soak in the tub. My thoughts escape me like the blood dripping from my nose and mix with the water. For once, just once, I would like to be able to have a moment with Spencer and not feel guilty about it. But Clad is my knight in shining armor, he’s come to my rescue many times over, and I don’t know how Spencer can compete with that.

I’m beginning to think that I’ll never fully be happy with Spencer; because Clad has given me extra lives, and like a video game character I have lived more than once, died more than once. My dad might be right, I owe Clad for the very air I breathe. I owe him for the pain I feel in my bruised nose and the heat of the water against my skin.

Spencer knocks on the door and I moan internally.

“Can I get you something?”

“Some clothes, please.”

“Be right back,” he says.

I push my head under and scream. The bubbles trap my scream and carry it to the surface. We had a date planned tonight, at the Coconut Festival; it’ll just be another opportunity for me to be struck with guilt for choosing Spencer over Clad.

“Got them,” Spencer says knuckling the door again.

“Come in.” I’m really too tired to be ashamed of my naked body.

“What are you doing? You’re so funny,” he says pushing the curtain from me.

“I feel miserable,” I say. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out.”

His eyes skate all over my body, my moving mouth the last thing he sees. “Spencer!” I pull the curtain around me again. “Just listen to me. Stop looking and listen!”

“What? I’m sorry, I was distracted,” he says coming out of it.

“This is never going to work if you keep staring at me like that,” I say exasperated.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to put me between two pieces of bread and eat me!”

“You’re so delectable,” he says licking his chops. “I can’t help but look at you that way.”

“Well, you have to help it, if we’re ever going to do
it
. I feel like you’re scrutinizing me and it makes me
uncomfortable
.” I test him by drawing back the curtain, his eyes stay locked on my face.

“Are we having a staring contest?”

“Forget it, where are my clothes?”

I stand up, and keeping his eyes on my face Spencer wraps me in a towel and helps me out. His arms around me and my hands holding up the towel, we stare at our reflection in the steamed up mirror. Spencer’s eyes glow like they have been replaced with lightning bugs. I can’t seem to make my mouth change from its rigid frown.

“You aren’t happy,” he says, the lightning bugs flying from his eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re mad at me for hitting you.”

“Furious,” I say. “Let’s go.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

His hands leave my shoulders. He makes a show of placing a folded hoodie on the counter and then walks out. I dress quickly so I won’t have time to think.

When I come out of the guest bedroom, Sarah is whispering something to Spencer in the hallway.

“Oh, hi, Spencer was just telling me that you guys are going out tonight. Have fun!” Sarah says, in the fakest voice I think I have ever heard.

“Are you ready yet?” Spencer asks.

“Ready.” I sigh.

He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the hallway. “Are we okay?”

“We’re just fine.”

He doesn’t say anything more. I follow him out the door to his truck. I sit in the backseat and he tilts the rearview mirror to see me, his eyes rolling up to his brows and mouth tightening into a thin line.

Is this what ‘just fine’ feels like?
Spencer’s face repeatedly pulls itself together, like clothes drawn on a line. I put my hand on top of his and he grimaces.
Careful,
you wouldn’t want your face to get stuck like that,
I think .

“Your nose is bleeding again,” he says, handing me a napkin.

I tilt my head back, gravity pushing the blood and tears back inside of me, where they belong.
We aren’t okay
.
We aren’t just fine
.
We’re on rocky ground
.

The sky is a starless plum color when we finally reach the festival, ending our seemingly infinite voiceless drive. I hop out of the truck and stretch my arms over my head, I point my feet and twirl. Spencer slides out of his seat like a greasy slice of pizza sliding off a plate. He has a deep-rooted scowl on his face.

“Come on let’s go ride the Ferris Wheel. And get cotton candy!” I take his hand and drag him and I’m met with a resistance, like he has dug his heels into the dirt. My nose is throbbing and my nostrils are blocked with blood, but I’m willing to ignore it for a chance of happiness with Spencer. After all,
it is our first date.

When we get to the front of the festival we are met by a block of teenagers and families. Spencer and I join the disorderly line to buy tickets for the rides.

“What do you want to go on first?” he asks, his scowl receding.

“Maybe the flying pirate ship or teacups…”

“We have to go on the Ferris Wheel, it’s the most romantic ride here.”

“Yeah…what’s more romantic than spinning in a circle?”

“I don’t know,” he says, holding my hand up for me to spin. “When your hair is flying from your head and you’re smiling so wide and breathless, I think spinning in circles could possibly be the most romantic thing ever.”

When he says this, I realize how much I feel that I’m lost in the middle of a spin. Stuck in that breathless moment of dizziness, as I try to choose between him and Clad.

It’s not really a choice, Bailey
, my internal dialogue says.
Clad’s in prison but Spencer- he is here, right now.

Spencer smiles at me and coils his fingers around mine; I smile back, my thoughts so secret to his mind. He purchases two bracelets—the plastic kind that takes a chainsaw just to remove. And after we’ve been tagged, we’re permitted to enjoy ourselves in the cage of flashing popcorn lights, greasy foods, and screams of laughter.

Red lights, green lights, blue lights, yellow lights. I’m a hamster in a maze who has just met a piece of cheese; awe and pleasure cross my face.

“Let’s go on the boats!” Spencer says, pulling me behind him. I stumble over my boots, giggling at the disorienting run we have broken into. Boats float in the water, move slowly against the surface, but at the festival they bounce in the air and spin at high speeds.

We flash our bracelets and are shown to our own galloping boat. I start out sitting with space between Spencer and I, but as the ride picks up speed the ventricle force pushes us together. He puts his arm around me and I laugh a shaky ‘I-don’t-know-if-I should-be-scared-or- thrilled’ laugh.

The ride slows down and my hair falls back into place on my head, I unglue myself from Spencer. “That was intense!” he yowls, throwing his fists in the air.

“Yeah… intense…” I say, trying to hold back vomit and walk off the ride with wobbling legs.

He points out the next ride and I shake my head at the sight of the Mega Drop. “Why not something easy, like the Ferris Wheel?” I say, trying to steer him away from the heart pounding drop.

“We can go on that after, baby. I want to go on this one!”

“But we just went on your ride! That’s not how taking turns work,” I say.

“Please, please, pretty please?” he begs.

“
Oh, all right,” I heave. “Ferris Wheel after this, promise?”

“Sure, sure, whatever—hurry up, the line is getting long!” He takes my wrist and tugs me. I let him pull me along because running is out of the question- I have yet to rid myself of my sea legs from the Spinning Ships.

The gate opens and the riders flood to seats that look like infant car seats. Spencer pushes me into one and pulls a bar over my head. I snap my harness. The ride starts with a jerk and we are sent into the air with a view of the entire festival. My nerves kick in. The bright lights and carnival music are a trick to make me think it’s all fun and games, but I know that the only thing keeping us from plummeting to our death are a few wire cables and a safety bar.

“Spencer, I’m scared!” I yell and then the ride drops us, stopping only a few feet from the ground and rocketing skywards again. The riders all scream in unison, some terrified, others having the time of their life. Me, I start to cry.

I squeeze Spencer’s hand until mine is white and his is purple. He laughs uncontrollably as I scream on the third drop. We bounce like we are in an elevator, stuck between floors. Then, finally, and thankfully, the ride meets the ground for the last time.

“You big baby!” Spencer makes fun of me. “You’re crying!” He shakes the blood back into his hand, I do the same.

“It was scary. I didn’t even want to go on,” I say, my feelings hurt.

“Okay, it’s over now. I’ll get you cotton candy for being so good,” he says.

“Better be the blue kind,” I say.

“Blue it is.”

We pass the swinging pirate ship, flying UFOs and a corn dog stand before we find the cotton candy vendor. Spencer’s eyes keep following the rides, his pupils swinging with the pirate ship and bobbing up and down with the UFOs.

“Go on two of my rides and then you can pick again,” I say. He returns his attention to me, but shrinks back when his eyes meet my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Jesus, your nose. It’s bruised and swollen,” he says, grabbing my chin.

“It does hurt a little… is it
that
bad?”

“I’m getting you ice.” He butts to the front of the line and asks for a bag of ice. Wrapping it in cheap, brown napkins, he presses it against the bridge of my nose and I hold it there.

“Maybe we should skip the cotton candy and just go on the Ferris Wheel now,” I say. “I’m getting tired and my nose is pretty sore.”

“That’s a good idea. Let’s go,” he says. “Hold my hand, it’s crowded here.”

The Ferris Wheel is an outdated white painted piece of steel; the buckets, once bright colors, have all faded to pastel. Industrial sized light bulbs glow a muted orange, decorating the outside spokes of the wheel. Popcorn lights, some fried, run along the inner spokes. Romantic is hardly the word I would use to describe it.

“It’s cute,” Spencer says, squeezing my hand to excite me.

“If it doesn’t fall apart,” I grunt.

Against my many objections, out of fear of our bucket tipping, Spencer sits on the same side as me. The buckets ascend their arc to the top and I dig my nails into the meaty part of Spencer’s forearm.

“We’re getting high…
really
high.” I can almost see the top of the Mega Drop.

“Don’t be scared, it’s fun. See,” he says making the bucket rock.

I squeal and dig my nails deeper into his flesh. Up here, the festival looks like a smudge of blinking lights, people the size of ants running this way and that. At the top of the Ferris Wheel, I let go of Spencer’s arm, my head pressing ever closer to his shoulder. Glowing lights against the dark of night make me feel sleepy and safe.

“My tired baby,” Spencer says, kissing my head. “We’re on top of the world.”

Not the whole world, but part of it. A part of the world where people take risks for a thrill. Go against human nature to feel alive and be on the edge of death all at once. Whether it’s the sudden plunge of the mega drop, or the disorientating spin of the tea cups, during that ride—
they live.

That’s where we all are, I think. On the Mega Drop, climbing to the top point of success, and plummeting in an instant to defeat. That is where I stay with Spencer, wedged in a Mega Drop of emotions.

“I’ll put a festival in my heaven, right next to my stage,” he says.

“What do you think Miemah’s heaven looks like?”

“I don’t think she has one.”

The buckets sway at this high point; soon they will circle back down.

“Please, Spencer, create one for her,” I say.

I snuggle up to him and he gives in.

“Fire. On the ground, in the air, and all around her. Volcanoes spewing lava and blowing smoke. All the water and food blazing… pretty much like being trapped inside of a fireplace, only it never burns out. No one comes to toss water on it.”