Indigo Summer

by Monica McKayhan

  This year Nana wasn’t here for the tree decorating. But the next morning, Daddy had fired up the pickup truck and headed to Chicago to pick her up. She always spent Christmas with us, and every year I would count down the days until she got there. Then I would count the hours and then minutes until I finally heard Daddy’s pickup pull into the driveway. She would always bring me something special in her suitcase, like some diamond earrings or a pearl necklace, or sometimes it was just simply a dozen of her delicious tea cakes, as only Nana could make.

  He and Nana were on their way back from Chicago. Last I heard, they were just outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee, which meant Nana would be there in less than two hours. My heart raced with anticipation, and I had already called them four times within the hour, while they were on the road. I’d cleaned my room up twice and helped Mama change the sheets and pillowcases in Nana’s room. I had baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies, although Nana wasn’t supposed to have sweets—she was a diabetic. But a cookie or two wouldn’t hurt her. She could have some sweets, as long as she did it in moderation. Those were her words. She was always trying to justify eating things that she wasn’t really supposed to, like ham or bacon that would send her blood pressure to the moon. She had to be watched twenty-four-seven, because she couldn’t be trusted. She didn’t have much self-control when it came to good food, especially soul food.

  I remember one Thanksgiving night when she thought everybody in the house was asleep, I crept downstairs, and busted her with a plate full of chitterlings loaded down with hot sauce.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, turning on the kitchen light as she was eating in the dark. The only light flashing was the one in the oven. I don’t even know how she was able to see those nasty little pig’s intestines in the dark.

  “I’m just having a little snack, Indi. Go on back to bed.”

  “A little snack, Nana? That’s a plate full of chitterlings.”

  “Okay, you busted me.” She chuckled. “Can this be our little secret, baby?”

  “Nana, you know you ain’t supposed to have pork.”

  I couldn’t understand why anyone would want eat chitterlings to begin with, let alone risk their life over them.

  “I know, child. I don’t need you to remind me. I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “Well, you need to try harder.” I suddenly felt like the parent, and she was the child, as I placed my hands on my hips.

  “I will. I promise,” she said. “Now, can this be our little secret?”

  I thought of all the secrets I’d shared with her, made her promise not to tell a soul. She’d always been the best secret-keeper in the world. How could I say no?

  “I promise, Nana.”

  And I’d kept my promise until the next day when she had to be rushed to the emergency room. Her blood pressure had gone through the roof, and I had to spill my guts about what she had eaten. She wasn’t mad though. She just vowed never to do it again. And I made it my duty to make sure of it by watching her like a hawk whenever she visited our house. I couldn’t keep my eye on her while she was at her house in Chicago, but I was her designated food monitor whenever she stayed with us. And although she tried, she couldn’t get much past me. I knew her better than anyone else in the whole world. And I wasn’t going to stand around and watch her kill herself. I wanted her to be around forever, or at least until my grandchildren were a hundred years old. Accomplishing that would take some work.

  Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep waiting for Daddy and Nana to get there. I woke up to voices outside my window and rushed over to see who it was. Nana was standing there in her gray winter coat that she’d worn every year for as long as I could remember. Her red knitted hat hugged her head and a red scarf was wrapped around her neck. Daddy was holding on to her old suitcase as she smiled and had a conversation with Marcus. I lifted the window to hear what they were saying.

  “So do you know my granddaughter, Marcus? Her name is Indigo.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We go to school together, me and Indi.”

  “That’s nice.” Nana smiled. “Well it was very nice to meet you, Marcus. Why don’t you come over for dinner later on? I’m getting ready to go in here and whip up a batch of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese…that’s Indi’s favorite, some collards. I might even bake a lemon cake.”

  “That sounds so good, Miss Summer,” he said. “I would love to come over.”

  “Call me Nana. Nana Summer would be just fine, son.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Call her Nana? She barely even knew Marcus from a hole in the wall, and here she was telling him to call her Nana. And why was he pushing up on my grandmother like that? I expected my daddy to say something. To step in. To tell Marcus that tonight was not a good night for him to come over. But he just stood there, holding onto Nana’s suitcase, not uttering a single word. He patted Marcus on the shoulder.

  “We’ll see you later son. Why don’t you invite your folks over, too?” Daddy said, when he finally did open his mouth.

  I was in awe. My daddy never invited anyone over to our house. I could count on both hands the number of times we had guests over for dinner. What was happening to my family?

  Besides, I had plans of inviting Quincy over for dinner, or at least asking my parents if it was okay if he came and sat in the living room with me later. I couldn’t wait for Nana to meet Quincy. She would love him, and he would love her. They had to love each other. Anything else would be a nightmare situation. But the chances of my parents saying yes to Quincy coming at all, were slim to nothing now.

  Marcus Carter was ruining my life.

  I slammed the window shut and ran downstairs to meet Nana. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

  “Hey, Nana,” I said.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite granddaughter.”

  “I’m your only granddaughter, Nana.”

  “You’re still my favorite.” She smiled. “You just gonna stand there, or you gon’ come over here and give me some sugar.”

  I literally fell into Nana’s arms. I kissed her round cheeks and held onto her for several moments. I missed her more than I could put into words.

  “Mama Summer, you made it.” My mother gave Nana a hug, as Daddy carried Nana’s suitcase upstairs.

  “Come here,” I said to Nana. “I made you something.” I grabbed her hand and ushered her into the kitchen. Led her right to the plate full of chocolate chip cookies that I’d baked. “You can only have two, maybe three.”

  “Two or three.” She frowned. “That won’t do me a bit of good.”

  “We have to watch your sugar, Nana. You know that.”

  “I can have anything I want. As long as it’s in moderation.” She laughed. “Now let me try one of those cookies. Just to see if you know how to bake.”

  Nana sat down at the kitchen table, one of my cookies in her hand. I sat down across from her, ready to catch her up on everything that had gone on in my life since I saw her last.

  “Woo, I’m exhausted, Indi.” She sighed. “I think I’m gonna go up these stairs to my bedroom and take me a little nap for a bit. I’m gonna get up later and fry some chicken. I invited that young man from next door over. He seems really nice, Indi. You like him?”

  “Who, Marcus?” I acted surprised, as if I hadn’t eavesdropped on the whole conversation. “He’s okay.”

  “Handsome fella, that Marcus. Have you seen that smile of his? Gorgeous, you hear me? Right gorgeous. If he was a little bit older, or I was a little bit younger…” Nana chuckled and struggled to stand. I rushed over to help her up. “I’m going upstairs for a bit. Rest these old bones for a while.”

  I remember a time when Nana Summer used to play kickball in the middle of the street with Jade and me. Now she could barely walk a few steps without needing to sit and catch her breath. My poor nana was falling apart right before my eyes, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

  “How long are you gonna sleep for, Nana?” I as
ked, not wanting to be selfish, but I’d waited so long just to talk to her. And now all she wanted to do was sleep. How disappointing.

  “Just for a little bit, Indi. Why don’t you come on up here and lie across the bed with me. You can tell me all about what’s his name…Kelsey?”

  “Quincy, Nana. His name is Quincy.”

  “That’s right, Quincy.”

  I followed Nana up the stairs and to her room. Before she could slip her feet from her shoes, I had already done a nosedive and was sprawled across her bed, running my mouth. Telling her about school, and about my new friend Tameka. I told her about the dance team and how I thought I had screwed up my chances of making it, but made it anyway. Before I could tell her about the first time I laid eyes on Quincy, she was snoring, her plump belly moving up and down to its own rhythm. I just wrapped my arms around Nana and fell asleep myself.

  Sounds from Daddy’s favorite jazz artist, Boney James, shook the walls in our house. The smell of the spices from Nana’s fried chicken literally knocked me out of my sleep and onto the floor. Laughter and loud conversations interrupted my thoughts. I slowly opened one eye and the spot where Nana had slept earlier was empty. She’d thrown an afghan over my legs and had turned on a bedside lamp before she left. I stepped into the bathroom and splashed water on my face, and tried to run a comb through my hair before creeping down the stairs to see what was going on.

  In the family room, our next-door neighbors joined my parents in a loud conversation about God only knows what. It was as if my father and Marcus’s father were in a competition to see who could talk the loudest. There were glasses filled with brown liquor and ice resting on our coffee table. Marcus’s father stood, poured himself another drink and said something about the basketball game and how he thought Miami was going to the playoffs.

  “You mark my word, Harold.” He called Daddy by his first name. He was a taller, much older version of Marcus, but still handsome. He was much thinner than my daddy, who was round like Nana, and more on the short side. Marcus’s stepmother was a thin woman, with weave that hung onto her shoulders. Her face was dark, and plain-looking. She wasn’t someone who deserved a second look on the street, but she wasn’t ugly either. She and Mama seemed to be enjoying whatever it was they were discussing in a side, more quiet conversation. Every now and then they would giggle about something and take a sip from their glasses of wine.

  This whole scene reminded me of when Jade’s parents would come over for an occasional visit. They didn’t come often, just during the holidays and on special occasions. The four of them would sit for hours talking about whatever it was that grown-ups discussed. They would drink and listen to loud music, while Jade and I played together for hours. It was those times that we enjoyed the most, because whatever we asked for we got. When parents are distracted, they let you do pretty much whatever you want. Jade and I would stay outside way past dark, drink all the Kool-Aid and eat all the sweets we wanted without supervision. The parents didn’t care, as long as we were out of their hair. Those were the days.

  I didn’t see Marcus, and only assumed that he was in the kitchen kissing up to my grandmother again. I needed to go in there and give him a piece of my mind. But just as I tried to make a mad dash for the kitchen, Mama spotted me. Stopped me in my tracks.

  “There she is,” I heard her say to the rest of the adults in the room. “Indi, come here. I want you to meet our new friends.”

  Sometime during the evening the Carters had graduated from “the neighbors” to “our friends.” When did that happen? I slowly walked into the family room.

  “This is our daughter, Indigo,” Mama announced to them.

  “Yes, I’ve seen her around,” Marcus’s stepmother said. “Hi, I’m Gloria.”

  She smiled, and I was glad to know her name so I could stop calling her Marcus’s stepmother.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter,” I said and smiled at Gloria.

  “Oh, you can just call me Gloria, baby,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “And this here is Rufus Carter,” Daddy announced. “Say hello, Indi.”

  “Hello,” I said softly.

  “Indi, you’re much prettier than Marcus described you,” Rufus said in his baritone, and laughed that deep, strong laugh that had shaken me out of my sleep just a few minutes earlier.

  Had Marcus already talked about me to his dad? How embarrassing. Marcus never ceased to amaze me.

  I’d seen Mr. Carter millions of times, all laid out underneath his truck, covered in oil and grease from head to toe. I had to admit, he cleaned up well. He reached out his hand and insisted on a handshake. He nearly yanked my arm out of its socket.

  “Where’s Nana?” I asked.

  “I think she’s in the kitchen, baby. She and Marcus have been hanging out together,” Daddy said. “Go on in there and say hello to him. He’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “It was very nice to meet you both,” I said to them.

  “You, too, Indi,” Gloria said. “Don’t be a stranger. Come over any time you want to.”

  “Thank you.”

  I made my way to the kitchen, where I found Nana and Marcus sitting at the kitchen table, a chessboard between them, and tall mouthwatering glasses of red Kool-Aid sitting there.

  “How many of those have you had, Nana?” I asked in my motherly voice, referring to the Kool-Aid.

  “This is my first glass, Indi, I swear,” she said, taking a drink. “Right Marcus?”

  “Right. Her first glass,” he mumbled, never taking his eyes off of the chessboard.

  “Indi is my sugar monitor and my blood pressure monitor. I have diabetes and high blood pressure, and she makes sure I stay on track,” Nana explained to Marcus.

  “Oh, I see,” he said, and moved one of his chess pieces across the board. “What’s up, Indi?” He finally looked up.

  “What’s up, Marcus?”

  “Nana just took all my money, and I’m trying to win it back.”

  “Y’all are playing for money?” I asked, and that’s when I noticed the stacks of dollar bills next to the chessboard. I couldn’t believe they were gambling and on a Sunday, too.

  “That’ll teach him to mess with an old woman,” Nana said.

  “You mean, a beautiful older woman.” Marcus grinned as he complimented my grandmother.

  “Don’t be trying to distract me, boy, with your compliments,” Nana said and moved one of her chess pieces. “It almost worked, too.”

  “You are a beautiful woman, Nana,” Marcus said. “You and Indi have the same flawless skin. Beautiful black women.”

  “You hear that, Indi? He thinks we have flawless skin.”

  “Nana, is dinner ready? Can I eat?” I asked, ignoring the whole exchange between the two of them.

  “Waiting for the macaroni and cheese to brown. Then we can all eat together,” she said. “Open that oven and see if it’s done.”

  I did as Nana asked. Opened the oven and checked the macaroni and cheese. It had browned nicely.

  “I think it’s done, Nana.” She barely heard because she was so wrapped up with Marcus.

  “Take it out, baby,” she said. “And go tell the others that dinner is ready.”

  I placed oven mitts on my hands. Took the casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove. Eyeballed Marcus as I made my way into the family room.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I announced. They barely heard me over the music and loud conversations.

  I silently wished this night would end soon, but it was just beginning as we sat at the table, said grace and broke bread together.

  “How did you all end up on the south side of town anyway?” Daddy asked Mr. Carter at the dinner table.

  “Well, you see, Gloria’s mother lives over this way. And she’s not in the best of health. Gloria wanted to be closer so she could take better care of her.”

  “That’s real nice.” Mama smiled at Gloria. “I wish I had spent more
time with my mother before she passed. But Mama Summer here has been just like a mother to me.”

  Mama and Nana shared a smile.

  I barely remembered Grandmother Aida. I was four when cancer took her away. Nana had been my only grandmother for as long as I could remember.

  “I told Rufus that I wanted to be able to go with Mama to her doctor’s appointments and be near just in case something happened. Living in Stone Mountain, we seemed so far away,” Gloria said.

  “That’s when she weaseled me into having us a house built.” Rufus laughed and elbowed my father. “These women can bat their eyes and get pretty much anything they want.”

  The two of them roared with laughter.

  “So you’re having a house built?” My mother zeroed in on that comment.

  “Well, we were. There was a problem with the builders and the subcontractors, and…” Gloria said.

  “And in the meantime, we’d already placed our house on the market, and it sold within two weeks’ time,” Rufus added.