The Pact (2 page)

Marcus

The
headphones from my iPod rested snugly in my ears, and I stared out the window as the plane floated through the clouds. Thoughts of Indigo rushed through my head as I replayed our pact over and over again.
She’s planning on meeting someone else,
I thought,
just as soon as she gets to Chicago.
It seemed as though she wanted to break free, explore her options. As if our relationship meant nothing to her. One thing was for sure, this was her choice, not mine. But I just went with it. I was used to girls changing their minds—switching gears in midstream. The same thing had happened when I’d moved from Stone Mountain to East Point. Kim Porter was the girl who broke up with me the same day she found out that I was moving to the South Side.

“It’s too hard trying to go out with somebody at another school, Marcus,” she’d said. “Let’s just be friends.”

Those four words had pierced my heart, and now Indigo was saying pretty much the same thing. Although there was a bright side—there was a chance that she would return to me and still be my girl at the end of the summer. And even though I made her believe that I might not be around, that was all I could hope for.

The flight attendant handed me the Cherry Coke that I’d ordered, and a package of peanuts.

“Thanks,” I said, and started flipping through my
Sports Illustrated
magazine. I was reading an article, but I wasn’t really comprehending the words. My mind was elsewhere—a million miles away. Just like the plane that was shooting through the clouds and hitting turbulence every few minutes. I looked out the window but could only see white pillows in the sky. Wondered if I was in Indigo’s thoughts like she was in mine.

I hadn’t even bothered to open my blinds last night when she threw Skittles at my window. She lived next door, and her bedroom window was directly across from mine. When we wanted to get each other’s attention, we threw Skittles, or whatever miniature pieces of candy we had readily available, like M&M’s or Runts. We always said good-night to each other, no matter what. If I worked late, she waited up for me. Or if she was out late with her family, I’d wait for her. That was just the way it was with Indigo and me. Seeing her face before I went to sleep at night meant that she would find her way into my dreams. However, last night I didn’t want her in my dreams.

Mom met me at the baggage-claim area. Her hair, which had once been long and brushing her shoulders, was now in a short, sassy style. I barely recognized her as she approached wearing a short summer dress—a dress that was way too short for somebody’s mother to be wearing. I wasn’t feeling it at all, and looked around to see if any dudes were looking at her. Her skin was the color of a penny, smooth and silky, and her smile was still very beautiful.

“Marco,” she said, and hugged me.

“Hey, Ma. What’s up?”

“Boy, I swear you have gotten taller.” She smiled and stepped back to get a good look at me. “Oh, Marco, you’re so handsome.”

I stood at least two inches taller than my mother and was able to look down at the top of her head.

“I think you’ve gotten shorter.” I laughed.

“Don’t be silly. And don’t think that because you’re taller I can’t still beat your butt.” She looked at me sideways.

“I wasn’t thinking that, Ma.”

“You’d better not,” she said. “Come on, let’s get your bags. How many you got?”

“Two.” I walked over to the carousel where people’s luggage spun around on the belt. “You look good, Ma.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” She kissed my forehead. “What’s your old daddy up to?”

“Just managing properties. And taking his pickup truck apart every day, only to put it back together again.”

We both laughed.

“That Rufus is something else,” Ma said. “What about Gloria? How’s she doing?”

She asked about Gloria, my father’s wife and my stepmother. I was sure she didn’t really care how Gloria was doing but asked out of courtesy.

“She’s all right,” I said, and pulled one of my bags off the carousel. “She’s just Gloria.”

“The two of you getting along better, Marcus?”

“Not really. I just tolerate her,” I said, and thought about our bumpy road, Gloria’s and mine. I didn’t really care for Gloria, and couldn’t stand her cooking. I thought she was only with my father to spend his money and to make my life miserable. Even though I had long ago stopped hoping my parents would get back together, I tolerated Gloria for my pop’s sake.

“You don’t have to like her, but you have to respect her.” My mom rubbed her hand over the waves in my hair.

“I know, Ma. I do respect her,” I said, and grabbed my second bag from the carousel.

“That’s good. Always respect your elders.” She took my carry-on duffel bag from my shoulder and put it on hers. “You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

We drove through the streets of Houston’s midtown area in Mom’s silver convertible BMW, the sunshine beaming down on my forehead. I could just picture myself driving this fly car downtown on a Friday or Saturday night or fifty miles to the beach in Galveston—styling and profiling like it belonged to me.

“You wanna drive?”

It was like she’d read my mind. She pulled over into a McDonald’s parking lot.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I grinned and did a pimp walk over to the driver’s side of the car.

“You know how to drive a stick, Marcus?”

“Yes, ma’am. I sure do.” I put the car in second gear, and before she could say another word, I breezed out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.

We cruised the streets, sightseeing, and Mom pointed out what she considered to be all the good restaurants. We drove past the Toyota Center, home of the Houston Rockets basketball team.

“Turn left up here at the light.”

I turned and my mother led me into her condominium neighborhood, with multicolored flowers in the front, a huge tennis court and an Olympic-size swimming pool. The pool area was packed, and I couldn’t wait to change into my trunks and go for a swim. I pulled the BMW into an empty parking space and popped the trunk. Grabbed my bags and followed Mom up a flight of stairs and into her unit.

“Here we are,” she said, unlocking the door.

The house smelled like fresh flowers and Creole food. I had been hoping that mom had prepared something good to eat, because it had been a long time since I’d tasted a good home-cooked meal. My stepmother, Gloria, didn’t know the first thing about cooking, and eating at Burger King or McDonald’s was getting pretty old. I missed my mother’s New Orleans–style cooking, and I was sure my pop did, too—he just didn’t want to admit it.

“I made your favorites, baby.” Mom headed toward the kitchen and I followed. “Shrimp étoufée and crawfish corn bread.”

“You remembered.” My mouth watered at the sight of it.

I immediately washed my hands, grabbed a plate from the shelf and dug in.

“Of course I remembered. Boy, you’re my child. I know what you like.” She laughed.

Mom disappeared into one of the back rooms. I sat at the bar in the kitchen and ate like there was no tomorrow. I grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, flipped the channel to ESPN. I glanced around the room at all the nice art on the walls, lots of photos on the mantel, plants in every corner of the room and candles everywhere. I could just imagine watching a football game on that big-screen television. I almost wished it was still football season.

Pretty soon, my mother came back into the room dressed in a blue business suit.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“I have to go back to the office for a little bit, sweetie. Eat as much as you want. I picked up all your favorites at the store…Twinkies, Cherry Coke, barbecue potato chips,” she said. “I even picked up a few of your silly movies from Blockbuster.”

“I might go for a swim in a little bit.”

“That sounds like fun.” She kissed my forehead. “Lots of pretty girls over there at the pool.”

Suddenly, thoughts of Indigo rushed through my head again, even though I didn’t want her there. I hadn’t thought of her since I’d fallen asleep on the plane, but now she was invading my space again. My mother laid a silver key on the countertop next to my plate.

“Here’s a key. Make sure you lock the door if you decide to go for a swim,” she said. “I’ll be home around five.”

“Okay, Ma.”

“Pick either of the bedrooms you want, Marcus. Just make yourself at home.”

I finished eating, rinsed my dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. The kitchen was so clean that I wanted to make sure I left it that way. Mom always was extremely tidy. She took cleanliness to a whole new level; used to drive me crazy when I was small, the way she insisted that I keep my room clean. It almost seemed abnormal. Pop was different. His only requirement was that I pick up after myself. He didn’t care if the place was spotless or not.

I decided to explore the two bedrooms and pick the one that I wanted to make my home in. The first one was sort of girly, with floral curtains and a floral bedspread to match. There were lots of candles around the room and a plant on the dresser. It even smelled like roses. I wasn’t feeling that room at all. I moved on to the second bedroom—this one was a little more masculine, decorated in blue and white abstract designs. Not nearly as many candles and no plants at all. This was definitely the one for me.

I lifted the miniblinds in the room to let the sunshine in, and to my surprise, the room overlooked the swimming pool. I was able to see everything, from the girl in the yellow bikini about to take a dive into the pool, to the beautiful chocolate girl with long black hair, wearing a tight red T-shirt with LIFEGUARD written across the front of her chest in bold white letters. A girl lifeguard?

I was mesmerized by her beauty; couldn’t take my eyes off her. She blew her whistle and yelled at a couple of kids who were playing around in the water. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could tell that she made them get out and go to the kiddie pool. When she walked back toward her lifeguard chair, I watched as her booty wobbled in the little white shorts she had on. She was sexy, and something inside me wanted to know who she was.

I rushed into the living room and grabbed my luggage, dragged it into my bedroom. Threw my bag onto the bed, unzipped it and began to search for my swimming trunks. Once I found them, I slipped them on, sprayed a little cologne on and flexed in the mirror. I hadn’t worked out in a couple of weeks, and I could tell as my reflection stared back at me. This was no time to be slacking on my weight lifting. I had to get back into the gym as soon as possible. And I would, just as soon as I got back from my swim. I had already peeped the small gymnasium in the lower level of Mom’s building and noticed that it had a treadmill and a few free weights. I would definitely have to pay a visit.

I ran a brush across my waves, slipped my flip-flops onto my feet and headed for the water. I walked into the pool area, a towel thrown across my shoulder, and looked around at all the teenagers who were hanging out there. It was a beautiful scene.
This might not be a bad summer after all,
I thought as I tossed my towel onto a chair and removed my flip-flops. I climbed the stairs that led to the diving board, walked to the edge of the board, bounced a couple of times and then dove into the water. The water was cool and refreshing as I swam to the opposite end of the pool. I lifted my head out of the water, rubbed my eyes and noticed Miss Lifeguard taking a quick peek as she sat in her chair with her legs crossed. She didn’t think I saw her checking me out. I smiled, but she didn’t. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked the other way. I decided to ignore her for the rest of the afternoon. Ignoring a pretty girl was the surest way of getting her attention. It usually worked like a charm.

“Hi. Are you Marcus?”

As I pulled myself out of the water, a tall, lanky girl with thick glasses stood at the edge of the pool. She wore a one-piece green and white bathing suit, and when she smiled her silver braces sparkled in the sunshine.

“Yeah, I’m Marcus.”

“My mom and your mom are friends. We live right across the hall. I’m Michelle.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Nice to meet you,” I said.

“You’re visiting here from Atlanta.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yep.”

“That’s where T.I. and Usher are from. You ever see them around—like at the mall and stuff?”

“Um, I saw Usher a few times at Lenox Square Mall. And I saw T.I. at a Hawks game once. But that’s about it.”

She was nice, but I really wasn’t in the mood for all the chitchat. My eyes were set on a particular lifeguard.

“I’ve lived here for three years…not in Houston, but in this condominium subdivision, that is. I’ve lived in Houston since I was three.” She started answering questions that I hadn’t even asked. “Are you thinking of moving here, Marcus?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Your mom says that you are. She says you might be going to school here,” she said. “The school is pretty cool. Lots of Hispanics and a few white kids—”