by Janay Harden
Ben is coming to get me tomorrow, and we’re leaving. Please don’t try to contact us. We will be happy and away from the people who believe the lies that others tell them and try to control our lives. We’ll be nineteen soon and out on our own. Audra got me an audition with her cousins-friend’s-fiancé’s band, and I just may just go on tour.
PS: Thank you for sending my dress for our prom here. It was still not a real prom, but it was fun, I’ll admit that.
-Sonny
The letter dropped out of my hand and fluttered to the floor. No… no, it couldn’t be.
Stomping across my bedroom floor, my feet smacked against the hardwood beneath me.
“Mom was Schizophrenic?!” I screamed. I said it even before I swung the door open. My voice echoed into the hallway.
Dad, Ms. Arletha, and Sidney eyed me.
“Is. She is Schizophrenic,” Dad corrected. His voice was stern and measured, like he was waiting for me to storm out of my bedroom with these questions.
“And no one thought to tell me and Sidney… ! Tell me!?”
Dad’s jaw tightened again. “Indigo. There are some things children just should not know about their parents. I didn’t know if you could handle it.”
“What does that even mean? Why couldn’t I? I have a right to know!” I yelled.
“Children shouldn’t know everything about their parents.” Dad repeated.
“Have you read these?” I screamed, tossing the letters at him.
“Most of them, yes. Some I couldn’t get all the way through… ” Dad breathed.
“Because of what they did to her,” I blurted.
He nodded.
“And what is it? Mama Jackie and Ez sent her to a conversion camp?”
Dad nodded his head yes again.
“Why?!” I cried. “Why would they do that?” Tears streamed down my face.
Ms. Arletha stood uncomfortably in the room’s corner amidst a family feud.
“What’s that mean, Indy? That word you said?” Sidney quizzed.
“Schizophrenic. It means Mom was crazy. Exactly what we thought, but no one told us.”
“Don’t talk about your Mom like that!” Dad snapped. “She couldn’t help those feelings. They came on quickly. She turned into a different person when those other people got into her head. When she was good, she was good.”
“And when she was bad, she was bad, I guess.” I was belligerent.
“Indigo!” Dad boomed.
“She is gone because she killed someone! Killed Dad! You never talk about it; ever! You don’t go see her anymore! You don’t do anything anymore! You act like this is normal life, but it’s not! If Mom has mental health issues, that is our right to know!” I screeched. The tears continued falling down my face and my throat cracked. For years there was an elephant in the room that I wanted to talk about but didn’t know how. All this time I felt like something was wrong and now it was confirmed. These feelings I had and these voices I’ve been hearing, Mom heard them too.
When Mama Jackie died from a heart attack years ago, Mom took it the hardest. She was manic for a long, long time. I learned what that word meant at an early age, earlier than most. Manic. They say it’s when your mood is up and down. Sometimes you sleep too much. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all. A couple years ago before she went away, Dad picked up Mom from crisis and she slammed papers on the kitchen table and stomped back to the bedroom, flinging the door shut. Eyeballing the paperwork, I found the word Schizophrenic. I didn’t know what it meant, and I never even saw that combination of letters put together to form that word. How did you even say it?
I took brain pictures of the word and searched it back in my room. Everything that I read about that word sounded like my mom. So, this was it. There was a name for it. This is why she did the things she did. I dug deeper into my research, trying to figure out how to fix her. Medication? Therapy? Mom did none of those things they said would help, and if she did do it, she hid it well. I padded into the kitchen and plopped down next to Dad asking him about the funny spelling word that I saw. I didn’t tell him that I Googled it and it sounded a lot like Mom.
“That’s not your mom, Indy,” Dad patted my knee. “Those head doctors write so many things in your file and it sticks with you for life. No worries, honey, Mom is okay.”
So, I dropped it. I believed my dad because I wanted to. I wanted nothing to be wrong with Mom. But there was something wrong, and here was the proof. Dad had lied all of this time, and Mom was not okay.
“You know what Indigo; you think you’re so grown! While we’re on the topic, let’s talk about Ez.”
“Benjamin, no,” Ms. Arletha stepped from the shadows in the corner.
Sidney perked up hearing Ez’s name. “What about Ez?”
Dad swallowed. “We’ve allowed Ez to go on like this for too long. He needs help, Indigo. You know he does. The man doesn’t have a cell phone, he leaves his car at our house, and his primary mode of transportation is a canoe? He needs more. And Ez is… sick. Ez is sick.”
Sidney gasped. “Sick with what?”
“He has Autism. They say it’s like high functioning Autism or something—like he can still do things for himself, but he has some quirks. Ez has gotten through life with Mama Jackie, but now that she’s gone, I fear that he’s not safe by himself. And don’t forget the gun.”
They’ve lied to me this whole time. I knew there was something wrong with Ez, I knew it! I had nothing to compare him to, I didn’t know much about Autism either—I’d have to search that later. Mama Jackie and Mom handled everything regarding Ez, and I thought that was normal for our family. We took care of the elderly because it was respectful. Or so I thought.
“Ez is Autistic,” I wiped my eyes.
Sidney’s tears quietly fell.
Was I Schizophrenic? Or Autistic? How did that happen? Were you born with it? Was it all genetics?
“How long have you known?” I muttered.
“All my life. All of your life.”
Ms. Arletha crept to the couch and sat down carefully, afraid to make a sound.
“And why did no one tell us this either? He’s our grandfather!”
“Indy, it never came up. We always thought, that’s just Ez. He’s just funny about some things. Sure, he could be OCD sometimes, but aren’t we all? We knew Ez was different, but it never came up. No one talked about it, and Mama Jackie took care of everything while Grandpa Ez chopped wood all day.”
“And how do you know?”
“Indy, I was here. Are you forgetting Mom and I went to school together? I saw it firsthand.”
“Oh… right… ”
“But he was in the army,” I countered.
Dad nodded his head. “He was, but it didn’t last long. It was too much for Ez. People screaming at him, the noises, everything really. He didn’t last long before he was discharged.”
I thought back to my childhood. I never remembered Ez going to work. He never talked about his own childhood or much of anything. He talked in riddles and it seemed like his life began when Mama Jackie came into the picture. My eyes were red, swollen, and my shoulders were slumped. So were Sidney’s and so were Ms. Arletha’s.
Not Dad’s. “This is why something has to be done. You wanted to read those letters, so there you go.”
“Mama Jackie and Ez sent Mom to a conversion camp? Why?”
Dad paused before answering.
“Grandma Jackie thought… Mom was fighting a demon. Your Mom skinned a few cats and lit a dog on fire. She heard voices, and Mama Jackie believed they told her to do it.”
“My God… ”
“It’s not true, Mommy wouldn’t do that!” Sidney shouted.
“She did, Sidrock. It’s true.”
“But we had Mayweather at my dad’s house! She loved him! She
never hurt Mayweather—she loved that dog!”
“I don’t know, Sidney. I guess sometimes the feelings come and go. I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry, Indy, for not telling you. I thought I was protecting you guys, and I was wrong. I should have told you earlier. About Mom… Ez.”
I sat down on the couch and wiped my tears. “So, I was right, this whole time. When I came to you years ago with that paper I found on the table and you told me it wasn’t true. And when mom first went to Trochesse, you said she accidentally hit someone with her car—you lied to me.” I sobbed.
Dad was quiet before he spoke. “One thing I am grateful for is that you girls are okay. You are both so strong and so smart. Just because your mom is struggling right now, doesn’t mean you have to. Indy is going to college, and soon enough she’ll be a big-time writer. And she’s working now, making good money down at the funeral home. And us three… we’ll be okay too,” Dad grabbed Sidney’s hand and Ms. Arletha’s.
“Dad… I-I… ” I began.
“Tell him, Indigo!” Mom hissed. I closed my mouth and kept quiet. I just read in Mom’s letter that she regretted telling her parents about the voices, so why would I tell him, especially right now? Six eyes peered back at me intently. “I-I love you guys,” I half smiled. Swallowing away the words sitting on the tip of my tongue. It still wasn’t a good time to talk about it; my own issues would have to wait.
Sidney held tight to Ms. Arletha.
Dad finally had tears in his eyes. “Come over here, girl!” Dad extended his arms and hugged me tight. Knowing that Sidney and I were okay was the one thing that brought tears to my dad’s eyes. Like Mr. Dennis—he provided. He went to work and provided the best way he knew how. Only thing, we weren’t okay. I wasn’t okay, but by the looks in their eyes, they needed me to be.
Dad embraced me; my phone buzzed. I read the text from my lock screen.
Jaxon: We need to talk, asap.
CHAPTER 23
The rain poured and poured today; I almost didn’t make it in. The Bus didn’t start in the rain this morning, and Dad had to come outside and give me a jump before school. I was shitting bricks all day, imagining that I would walk outside, and the car wouldn’t start again.
It roared to life like nothing happened. Now I was sitting in the salon chair getting my hair braided and it would take at least the next hour. After the party at the mansion, I found a few more nubs that were cut down to my scalp. That pissed me off—you don’t cut no Black girl’s hair. That was law. What made it worse, I didn’t know who did it, why they did it, or the intent behind it. I just knew my hair was gone and someone was responsible.
I looked at my cell phone and noted the time. It was 3:22 p.m. I was supposed to meet Jaxon at 4:45 p.m. and I was cutting it close. My heart plummeted at the thought of canceling on Jaxon. I wanted nothing more, but he and I had not talked since his text message, and he still hadn’t paid me the $200. I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I didn’t. Mila finally admitted that she hooked up with Jaxon and called it the “the best party-ever.”
She wasn’t even worried about pictures or someone potentially seeing us in compromising positions. Maybe she didn’t care but I sure did. I didn’t want anything to disrupt me getting into college. I saw people on social media losing scholarships and offer letters because of videos and pictures of them doing crazy things. I wasn’t stupid enough to let my ticket out of town be squandered away by pictures. I shuddered at how easily Mila and I had been persuaded by the life and times of the rich and famous teens of Tunica Rivers. The things we didn’t have were flaunted in our face. A cookie was dangled and instead of being who we are, we got caught up in the moment and went along with the group.
The time on my phone ticked away. I already had my hair appointment set up when Jaxon texted me yesterday and I couldn’t cancel. It would be another two weeks before they had appointments open, and my braids were rough. I was using edge control to gel my edges, but they curled up as soon as I stepped foot out of the house and into the April humidity of Louisiana. I tried to squeeze all of my errands into one day, but I was still behind as I watched the clock in anticipation. I bit my lip and stole glances around the room to calm my nerves.
“Finished,” Sheeda said, spinning me around in the seat.
I glanced at my hair in the mirror and felt my scalp where she replaced the missing braids.
“There weren’t too many gone, only about ten or twelve. But they were cut all the way down to the root. Those spots will have to grow back.”
I grimaced with her words. Paying Sheeda and rushing out of the salon, I jumped into the car, turned the ignition, and nothing happened. Pausing, I turned the ignition again, this time pumping the gas pedal too.
The engine was quiet.
“Nooo, nooo!” I shrieked.
“Indigooo, Indigooo,” Mom screeched in my ears with an English accent.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I fussed—banging my hands on the wheel. Tears streamed down my face. Please God, not today, not today. I had too many things to do, and I couldn’t deal with Jaxon or Mom right now. I shouldn’t have to deal with Jaxon or Mom right now.
“My dear daughter, why do you deny your destiny? How about you come visit me on the weekend love? I told you about my dream.” Mom’s English accent sang.
“Stop talking like that!” I yelled.
Sheeda had another client in her chair, and she was shaking a bottle of hair dye, watching me from the window. I gritted my teeth and exhaled… wiping my face, I turned the ignition and pumped the gas again.
Nothing happened.
I screamed and banged my hands on the wheel. Why today of all days?
Another voice somewhere in me—this time not mom said, “Calm down. Give it a second and try one more time.” This voice was quieter, softer. I breathed and wiped my face again. I rolled down the window. Ez’s car still had old school roll down windows. The cool air hit my face, and I rested on the headrest behind me. After a few seconds, I leaned forward, pressed my foot to the brake, and started the engine.
The car roared to life.
“Thank you,” I said out loud. The sky opened once more and fat raindrops fell onto the car as I pulled out, rushing to meet Jaxon. Sheeda still watched me from the window.
A few minutes later I pulled into the park; the same park Jaxon and I met months before to discuss his college video. Jaxon’s black JEEP was already there, towering over the smaller cars parked near. He didn’t pull into one parking spot; his ride was spread out, covering two spaces. His windows were rolled up. I couldn’t see him through the tint, and the rain didn’t help.
Hopping into his car, he had the nerve to look annoyed. “I’ve been waiting seven minutes,” he tapped his phone.
“I’m sorry, I got caught in the rain,” I half lied. “What’s up?”
Jaxon squinted as Future’s voice blared through his speaker. He turned the music down, and rain was pounding the car, making the conversation for us—as awkwardness took over. “I’ll get right to the point. Jaxon’s voice was hard. “I took some pictures from the party… I think you might like to see them.”
Pictures… Mila and I heard rumblings about pictures, but no one produced any yet. I thought it was high school rumors, but Jaxon knew otherwise. He scrolled through his phone and held it up to my face. I instinctively extended my hand so I could hold his phone.
“No—I’ll hold it,” he swatted.
Jaxon scrolled through the pictures, and my eyes widened. He had pictures of Mila and I topless. Pictures of me wrapped around the toilet, red cups strewn around. Vomit sat in the corners of my mouth, clearly visible. In one picture Jaxon held up a pair of scissors and was smiling, holding them close to my braids. He had a video of me dancing on the table with Mila. I didn’t remember dancing at all.
My face flushed.
“I
’ve thought about this for a while, and I thought, instead of me worrying about these papers and things they want me to write, I figured you could just write everything for me. And, if it works out, maybe we could figure out something beneficial for both of us for college too. Also, I never asked my Mom about increasing your payment to $200. She would have had too many questions and I figured there was no point anyway, after this.” he gave a crooked smile like he figured it all out. “I still forgot your money though; I will bring it soon.”
Jaxon was the pied piper, and he was here to collect.
“E-e-excuse M-me?” I stuttered.
“I guess I have to spell it out for you. In order for me to not show these pictures to anyone, I want you to do all of my papers from now on. I think it’s fair. We only have a few weeks left of school before we graduate. Then we’ll be out of each other’s hair. And if it works out, maybe we can plan for college too,” he repeated, his time with a grin. He nodded his head like—like he already decided and was waiting for me to get on board. Like this was a good decision for both of us. Like I should be thankful. Like he was waiting for a thank you. “I think this will be good for both of us. It can be beneficial.” He talked like he discovered gold on the moon—he was truly proud of himself.
There he was. The real Jaxon. The one I knew was in there somewhere. I felt guilty these past few months because our interactions were so strained. I thought maybe I was being hard on him, and no one saw what I saw because nothing was there. I tried to convince myself that nothing was there, he didn’t know any better. He was a teenage white boy who had no thoughts about a Black girl from the other side of Tunica Rivers. Well, something was there… I saw it. Even if no one else did, Mom tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. I saw him. I sighed.