Deal With It

by Monica McKayhan

  “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?

  “You want Coke or Dr. Pepper?” he asked, completely ignoring the fact that I’d just said those three little words—those three little words, which you never said to anyone unless you really meant t
hem.

  I wouldn’t make a bigger fool of myself by confronting him, so I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, “Coke’s fine.”

  I watched as the pimple-faced, redheaded boy behind the counter at the concession stand filled my cup with Coca-Cola. He handed it to me, and I immediately stuck a straw in the cup. Marcus took a long drink from his Sprite and wrapped his arm around my neck as we entered the dark auditorium. We found a couple of empty seats, and Marcus plopped down beside me, handed me the huge carton of popcorn and opened his box of Milk Duds. I stuffed buttery popcorn into my mouth and stared at the screen as the action-packed previews began to play.

  I wished I hadn’t spilled my guts to Marcus. Wished I hadn’t been the first to say “I love you,” but what was done was done. You can’t take back words once you’ve said them, and besides, it was the truth. I did love Marcus. I loved everything about him—his smile, the way he threw Skittles or M&M’s at my bedroom window to wake me up in the morning. I loved how he treated me and how he tutored me in math, even though I gave him a hard time. He cared if I succeeded, and he had manners—which my parents also loved. He did little things, like slip Little Debbie cupcakes into my backpack or send me text messages just to say hi. He listened to me when I vented about Miss Martin and the dance team and encouraged me not to give up.

  Suddenly, his fingers intertwined with mine, and we watched the movie in silence.

  After the movie, I was quiet in Marcus’s Jeep as we took I-285 back to College Park. He slipped a Lil Wayne CD in, and rap music filled the Jeep. As Marcus pulled up in front of his house, I was the first to hop out. I stood next to the curb, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Marcus, sometime after church,” I said.

  Marcus headed around to my side of the Jeep, hugged me.

  “Cool,” he said. “Send me a text before you go to sleep.”

  I headed toward my porch, and Marcus headed toward his. With his hood on his head, he said, “Hey, Indi.”

  I turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I love you, too.” He smiled.

  Took him long enough, I thought as I smiled, too. I was worried there for a minute, but Marcus took all of my cares away with those little words.

  No other words were spoken. I just stepped inside my warm house, leaned against the front door after it was shut. My heart did a little dance.

  five

  Tameka

  With short pleated skirts on our hips and pom-poms on our fists, we strutted out to the center of the floor—Indigo on one side of me and Jade on the other. It was a routine that we’d created ourselves—every move, every swing of the hips, every sway of the arms had been strategically designed for us by us. Miss Martin had split the entire team up into groups of three and challenged each group to come up with their own routine, and the team with the best routine would have the privilege of performing it at a real game, during halftime. It was a challenge that Indigo, Jade and I welcomed. After all, we were the three best dancers on the entire junior varsity team, anyway. It was no surprise that our group won the challenge, and it was our routine that would be performed during halftime for the entire student body and their mamas.

  As Usher’s track bounced against the gymnasium walls, we swayed to the music. The crowd was into it, standing in the bleachers and clapping their hands. I saw my mother’s face among the other faces in the bleachers; there was a huge smile on hers. She usually came to every football and basketball game throughout the season, wearing the school’s colors and showing more pep than any of the other parents. She was standing and clapping, and when she moved to the left a little bit I noticed that my daddy was in the bleachers, too, sitting right next to her. He never showed up at our games and had never even seen me perform before. But he was there that night and was even wearing the school’s colors.

  Knowing Daddy was in the bleachers gave me energy. I barely got to spend any time with him, because he was always working, but he’d promised to try and make it to the game. I’d told him about the competition, and how Indigo, Jade and I had won the challenge. I had even showed him the routine. I was hopeful, but not convinced, that he would be there. I was surprised to see his face in the crowd.

  Daddy was reserved and very laid-back, which was why he wasn’t standing and yelling my name across the gymnasium like Mommy was. She was the exact opposite of him. She wasn’t reserved at all. In fact, I used to wonder what had drawn the two of them together in the first place, because they were nothing alike. I guess that proved that opposites really did attract. It was sort of like Vance and me. We were different. I loved to dance, and he stumbled over his feet when he even tried. He made exceptional grades in school; mine were mediocre. Both of Vance’s parents were professionals: his mother was an attorney and his father a dentist. Although my father was a music producer, my mother stayed at home, cooked and cleaned house. His parents were big on education—there were no other options for Vance besides college. My mother never graduated from high school. Instead, she got her GED much later in life. My parents wanted me to go to college, but if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. They just wanted me to be successful at whatever I chose. Vance’s father would probably disown him if he didn’t attend Duke University. I guess, in a sense, we were opposites, too.

  Daddy blew me a kiss as I took a bow at the end of my routine and rushed off the floor.

  From the sidelines, I watched as Vance and the other basketball players rushed out onto the floor. Terrence Hill took the ball out of bounds and passed it to Marcus Carter. Marcus passed it to Vance, who set up the play for the team and took it down court. I watched as he dribbled the ball, his muscular legs showing beneath his shorts. He had a fresh haircut, and his chocolate-brown face was pimple free. The gold bracelet that I’d given him for Christmas was dangling from his wrist with every bounce of the ball, and when he licked his lips, he looked just like LL Cool J.

  At the end of the game, with twelve seconds left on the clock, Jaylen Thomas sent the basketball floating through the air. The ball bounced off the rim and into the hands of the other team. Lenny Jackson, from the other team, rushed to the other end of the court, and their cheerleaders went crazy as he sunk the ball into the basket. The score changed, and they were ahead by two points. With two seconds left on the clock, it was over. We’d lost, and everybody knew it. Any chance of coming back was a long shot. Vance and his teammates hung their heads while the other team’s members jumped for joy, slapping high fives with one another as the buzzer sounded across the gym.

  If only we could get those twelve seconds back, and someone other than Jaylen Thomas would’ve attempted the shot—either Marcus or Terrence, who were much better ballplayers. Jaylen was better at defense and had had no business with the ball at such a critical time in the game. Couldn’t he have just played defense and left the three-pointers to someone who knew how to shoot the ball?

  The basketball team made their way to the locker room, their heads hung low. Coach Hardy followed behind with his clipboard in hand, a wrinkle in the center of his forehead—the one he always got when our team lost. I gave Vance a half smile as he passed by. He didn’t smile back, just raised his eyebrows. He was disappointed. Nobody wanted to lose.

  “I’ll meet you right here after you change, okay?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  Indigo hugged Marcus, and he kissed her forehead. “Go, Tigers!” she said, showing support for the team even though they’d lost.

  “Go, Tigers!” Jade said.

  “Go, Tigers!” I said, and before long the entire dance team began to chant.

  “Go, Tigers!” We all said it over and over again, trying our best to make them feel better.

  Soon some of their frowns became smiles.

  Outside after the game, I stood at the curb, next to my parents’ SUV, zipped my coat and threw a black toboggan on my head.

  “Can I hang out with the rest of the team?” I asked.r />
  “Hang out where?” Mommy asked.

  “We’re just going to McDonald’s,” I said as Indi stood nearby. “Indi’s dad will bring me home.”

  “Harold’s gonna pick y’all up from McDonald’s, Indi?” Mommy asked as if I was lying.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Indigo answered.

  “What time?” Daddy asked.

  “He just said for us to call when we’re ready,” Indigo said. “Shouldn’t be much later than eleven-thirty or twelve, though.”

  “Okay, that should be fine,” Mommy said as she opened the door of the SUV and hopped inside to shield herself from the brisk Atlanta wind. “Come on. Let’s go, Paul. It’s cold out here. If they’re just going to Mickey D’s, she’ll be all right. And I trust Harold to bring her home.”

  “Thanks.” I kissed my mother’s cheek and waved to my daddy.

  I watched as they pulled away from the curb and waited just long enough before rushing to find Vance’s old 280z in the school’s parking lot. He had the engine running, and his hoodie was zipped all the way up to his neck. I hopped into the passenger seat of the car.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.” He said it with very little enthusiasm. “Your parents okay with us hanging out?”

  “I told them that I was hanging with Indi. When I hang out with you, there are too many rules and red tape, so I figured it was easier this way. But it’s cool. We’ll all be hanging out together at McDonald’s, right?”

  “Eventually. But first I gotta stop by my house right quick. Gotta let Jinx out and feed him.” He pulled out of the school’s parking lot. “My parents are out of town, and there’s nobody else there to feed and walk him.”

  Jinx was Vance’s Doberman, a dog that I often heard barking in the background when we talked on the phone. I’d never had a desire to meet Jinx in person, though. I wasn’t really an animal person.

  “Okay,” I said. How long could it take to let a dog out to pee and to fix him a bowl of dog chow?