Free Indigo Summer by Monica McKayhan Page A

stared at the ceiling, too. Began to wonder if I would ever love someone, or if someone would ever love me enough to give me a ring. Would Quincy ever feel the same way about me that Jeff felt about Tameka? I had never given love much thought until now. But love still seemed so complicated, because it seemed to come with other stuff, like jealousy, hurt and most of all, sex. And sex was not something that thrilled me. I couldn’t understand what all the hype was about. Maybe someday I would, I thought as my eyes became heavy. But right now, I didn’t.
    â€œJust wait until you and Quincy fall in love.”
    Now that was something I’d never considered. I didn’t foresee that happening, but I didn’t say that to Tameka. Instead, I just allowed my eyes to give in to sleep that I was suddenly fighting.
    â€œYou sleep, Indi?” Tameka asked again. And this time I didn’t answer. The bed had already pulled my body in and soon I was dreaming.
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    As I turned over and adjusted myself across the bed, I could’ve sworn I caught the smell of smoked sausage. I opened one eye, and adjusted it to the sunlight as Tameka, dressed in her Victoria-Secret pajamas with PINK written across her behind in huge white letters, opened the blinds. Loud gospel music shook the entire house. They were songs I recognized because our choir at church sang them just about every Sunday.
    â€œHey, sleepyhead, it’s about time you woke up.”
    â€œIs it morning?” It seemed that I’d just shut my eyes for the night.
    â€œOf course it is.”
    â€œWhat time is it?” I asked, opening both eyes.
    â€œNine-thirty,” she said, and snatched the covers off of my tired body. “My mama cooked breakfast. She said for us to come downstairs and eat.”
    â€œY’all don’t go to church?” I asked, and had packed a dress in my bag for Sunday School, just in case.
    â€œNaw. My mama just plays the gospel music real loud and we play like we at church.” Tameka laughed.
    â€œOh, okay,” I said and didn’t hesitate to jump up, run to the bathroom and wash my face.
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    Fat smoked sausages, pancakes and scrambled eggs were on the kitchen table, along with a pitcher of orange juice and two glasses of milk. The kitchen was bright, with plenty of sunlight beaming in through the windows. There seemed to be a million windows in the kitchen, and there was an island in the center of the floor. Not like the traditional kitchen at my house.
    â€œWell, good morning!” Mel said. “Did you get enough sleep, honey?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œHave a seat and dig in.” She grinned, pulling her short, sexy robe tighter as she flipped pancakes on a griddle.
    I took the closest seat at the end of the table, took a sip of milk. Tameka plopped down in the chair next to mine. Sunday’s Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the local newspaper, was scattered about on the table.
    â€œI want three pancakes, Mommy,” she said, taking a drink of her milk, creating a milk mustache on her upper lip.
    â€œHow many would you like, Indi?” Mel asked.
    â€œI’ll take two,” I said.
    â€œThen two it is.” Mel touched my nose with her fingertip. “Your mother said she would be here to pick you up after church, so make sure you get your stuff together after you eat.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said, and patiently awaited my hot, golden pancakes.
    It was always more fun at someone else’s house than it was at home, and I soon realized that as I bounced my overnight bag onto the bed in Tameka’s room. I began packing my clothes and got a little depressed about having to go home. It was interesting to learn how other families did things, especially when they did things differently than what you were accustomed to. I sat on the edge of my bed, peered out the window and waited for my mama to pull into the driveway.
    When I got home, I