Worth a Thousand Words (11 page)

Once she had settled into the driver’s seat, she sat there for a moment, wondering how, in a matter of weeks, she had gone from summa cum laude graduate to a suddenly unemployed intern with a chronic eye disease.

Her life was just getting started, and already, she felt like a loser.

19

T
his couldn’t count as surgery.

    Dr. Yolanda Woodman dimmed the lights in the exam room and scooted her roller seat in front of Indigo. She pressed a floor button with the tip of her shoe that lowered an instrument attached to the ceiling. When it was positioned between the two of them, she sat up straighter and smiled at Indigo.

“Ready?”

Indigo sighed and shrugged.

“Keep your eyes open and hold them steady,” Dr. Woodman instructed. “I’ll start with the right eye, but I need you to keep both of them open.”

A beam of blue light appeared, and Dr. Woodman aimed it at Indigo’s dilated pupil.

The only discomfort Indigo felt came from trying to maintain her stare for two minutes.

“There,” the ophthalmologist said. She sat back in her chair for a few minutes before positioning the instrument to zap the other eye.

When she was done, she kept the lights low. Dr. Woodman’s assistant put drops in Indigo’s eyes and gave her a pair of flimsy paper sunglasses to block the light.

“We’ll monitor you for about an hour before we send you home,” the cheerful young lady said. “Step down from the exam chair carefully and sit in this wheelchair; I’ll take you next door to the postsurgery room, where you can stretch out on one of the cots and nap if you’d like.”

The wheelchair ride was quick. Indigo climbed onto one of the low beds, with help from the assistant, and lay back. She relaxed and folded her arms across her belly. If this brief, but focused, work paid what Indigo believed it did, she needed to switch careers. Indigo knew the specialized procedure required expertise; still, she couldn’t help but marvel at its swiftness.

God, let this work. No more eye problems, please? You said ask
and you would answer. I’m begging you to preserve my eyesight.

Those clichés were always true—you didn’t miss your water ’til your well ran dry; it was easy to take something for granted if you had no reason to doubt that it would always be there.

She wasn’t going blind and prayed that the glaucoma would never get to that point. But the diagnosis alone had been enough to fill her with dread. Getting it at age twenty-two versus sixty-two made a world of difference.

While the laser surgery was a gift that would soon give her freedom from having to use prescription eyedrops, the reality that she had a condition that needed to be managed for the rest of her life was still overwhelming.

Dr. Woodman felt certain that Indigo wouldn’t have problems pursuing her photography goals.

“We’ll monitor you every six months—every three if that’s what makes you comfortable. I’m in this with you,” she had promised. “Don’t let this little hiccup keep you from living life.

I’m looking forward to seeing your photographs in some amazing places.”

Yet, as Indigo rested on the thin cot and felt herself drifting to sleep, she couldn’t help but fret.

How often would she have to have this procedure to maintain a normal life? What if the doctors were wrong about the disease’s progression? Should she get a desk job where her eyes weren’t central to her work?

Maybe she should take the bird in her hand—marriage to a man she loved—and let whatever else happened, happen. She wondered what Shelby would advise her to do. But then, Shelby had never been one to make choices based on matters of the heart. She flew through boyfriends the way some women changed shoes.

Indigo felt the knots in her stomach as she tossed around all of her options.

She loved Brian, but she needed to be able to breathe without him. She had learned from the women she cared about most—Mama, Rachelle, Aunt Melba—that life got hard sometimes, and she’d be wise to make sure she could take care of herself.

Before she could wrestle with herself any further, Dr. Woodman’s assistant returned and told her she could go.

Mama and Daddy had been watching the clock in the eye clinic’s waiting room. They stood to greet her when she emerged from the post-op area and peered at her expectantly.

Indigo shrugged and answered the questions they were asking with their eyes. “I’m okay; no pain or anything. Dr. Woodman says I’ll be ready to move forward with life by tomorrow.”

She tried not to sound glum, but truth be told, she had only partially pulled herself out of the pity party she had lapsed into a few days ago, when Claude Ingram seemed so thrilled to bid her farewell. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he hadn’t acknowledged the pictures she’d left with him.

Indigo knew the newspaper would still be produced and photos would still be published, but she alternated between not caring and wanting her absence to be felt. Then she’d pray and ask God to forgive her for feeling that way.

“Ready to go?” Mama asked.

“Sure.”

They walked to the hospital garage and climbed into her parents’ GMC.

Mama and Daddy were quiet on the drive home. When they were about five minutes away, Indigo brought up a concern that had been worrying her for a couple of weeks now.

“What do you want me to do about grad school?”

Mama shifted in the front passenger seat and turned toward Indigo. “What do you mean? You’re still leaving after the wedding, aren’t you? I thought that you and Brian had discussed it and agreed.”

Indigo tried to gauge by her mother’s expression what she was thinking and feeling, but Mama had always been a master at masking her emotions. That skill had contributed to her ability to hide her alcoholism for so long. She’d never been loud and nasty, but shutting down and withdrawing from the family every chance she got over a period of years had caused just as much pain.

“We’ve discussed it, but I would say the issue is still on the table,” Indigo said. “I’m still struggling with what to do, given the glaucoma diagnosis. I just don’t know. Should I still try to go?”

“Why are you asking us?” Daddy piped up. “You’re all set to go, with a partial scholarship and all, and you’ve wanted to go for a long time. Why give up now? Dr. Woodman said this surgery should work.”

“But what if it doesn’t and I’ve wasted all that money and time?”

Mama peered at Indigo. “When did you start letting fear dictate your path? Haven’t we taught you that life is a series of what-ifs? Are you going to let your dreams go based on a possibility that things might not work out as planned, when there’s a strong chance that they will? Have you talked to God about it?”

Well, yes—she had prayed. She had pleaded.

Mama could read the answer in Indigo’s eyes. “Have you been listening?” she asked gently. “When you do that, you’ll know what to do. We’ve been saving money for your education since you were a baby, Indigo, even before you came to live with us. It was already earmarked, so don’t get all caught up in that. If you go and you spend it, you will have still learned something and had experiences that God wanted you to have, regardless of what may happen down the road.”

Indigo closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat. Mama was right. Why should she stop pushing forward now, when only God knew what the future held?

If she chose to attend grad school, though, Brian would have to wait for them to live together as husband and wife. She wasn’t sure how she would broach that conversation, especially since the last time they talked, she hadn’t balked at his plan for her to join him in Pensacola after their wedding.

That led to another unsettling question—would he agree to a long-distance marriage?

20

O
n most nights, Brian couldn’t purge the scene from his mind.

It had been over three years since that romantic liaison, but every time he remembered it, he felt ashamed. His thoughts would float between that pivotal evening and his routine date with Indigo the next day.

She had no clue, and for that, he had been thankful. Nothing was worth losing her. Nothing.

Life was so regimented at OCS that he had not had much time to think about anything but memorizing rules and regulations and barking the required responses to his drill sergeant and commanding officer.

When he wasn’t running or swimming or completing some other physical training activity, he was cramming material on engineering and naval equipment into his brain. He prayed daily to master every challenge so he wouldn’t get rolled back to another class. That would mean an additional three months here and would throw off plans for his wedding. Indigo would jump on the excuse to move to New York.

In his first few weeks here, Brian had been ready to sleep like a baby by the time Gunnery Sgt. McArthur conducted nine p.m. taps to make sure all lights were out and that the officers were complying with mandatory silence.

As the weeks wore on, his body adjusted to the rigorous pace and he was able to stay up as late as he wanted in the dark, quiet room.

That left more time for ruminating and dreaming, and fretting over the past, and what the future would look like. If he passed OCS and was commissioned, he would be on the path to become a Navy pilot.

But what was going to happen with his relationship with Indigo if she wasn’t ready to settle down? He didn’t want to be one of those lonely military men, pining away for a long-distance love and waiting for mail call, and he knew she wouldn’t be at a loss for people to see in New York. Or what if the Navy decided he just didn’t measure up?

These were the fears that haunted him when he let down his guard. It hadn’t helped that he now came in regular contact with his former friend and fellow Tuskegee alum Craig Miller, who had been a superb athlete and academic all-star in the class ahead of him. Craig’s presence here at OCS brought back a flood of memories that Brian wanted to stay buried.

He wondered if Craig had matured or whether he still considered himself a master player, who loved and left his conquests without a drop of guilt. He wondered if Shelby needed to be reminded of Craig’s reputation, just in case.

The officer candidates were given more freedom around their sixth week of school, because they had passed the room inspection. They could now go out to the local pubs and restaurants on weekends, and they had an occasional evening free during the week.

The downtime allowed them to finally get to know each other. His roommate, Todd Wayland, was a good guy. Greg Kemper could get anyone riled up.

For Brian, however, the loosened rein was a problem.

Now that things weren’t so regimented, Craig could freely interact with him and with Shelby. She didn’t seem to mind, but Brian wanted to know why all of a sudden he was “Officer Friendly.” The three of them had rarely spoken when they saw one another on campus during Craig’s senior year.

“Why is he all in your face now?” Brian asked Shelby one evening, while they played cards in a recreation room on campus.

“It’s no big deal,” Shelby said, and shrugged. “He just wants someone familiar to shoot the breeze with before he leaves. His class graduates in four weeks.”

Brian smirked and Shelby mimicked the gesture.

“Trust me, I have no interest in getting tangled up with Craig Miller, of all people. Why are you so worked up about this anyway?”

Instead of answering, Brian dealt the cards and changed the subject. “Are your parents coming up to visit next weekend?”

Now it was Shelby’s turn to be evasive. “I don’t know—why? Did your parents want all of us to have dinner or something?”

“Actually, I was thinking about having Indigo come,” Brian said. “She’s been so bummed out about the eye diagnosis and all that happened with the newspaper job. Plus, I want to see how much progress she’s made with the wedding plans.”

Shelby nodded.

“So if your parents aren’t coming, who is?” Brian asked. “You aren’t going to waste a weekend to actually have a good time, are you?”

Shelby pursed her lips. “Actually, I have a new friend, and I was thinking of inviting him,” she said, making sure to keep her eyes focused on her cards.

Brian sat up straighter. Why hadn’t he heard about this? “So you’re keeping secrets now, huh?” he said. “Who is the mystery man?”

Shelby rolled her eyes. “Keeping secrets? You act like you have some say in my decisions. Don’t worry about it. If he comes, I’ll be sure to introduce you and Indigo. If my parents come instead, you’ll just have to wait.”

With that, she played her final hand, a Joker, and won the game. She stood up and patted Brian on the shoulder on her way out of the room.

“Good night, Officer Candidate Harper, Indoctrination Class zero-ten, zero-eight. I’m going to bed.”

As he lay here tonight, struggling to keep memories from the past in the past, Brian wondered whether Shelby lay awake in her bunk too, and whether her dreams were haunting or hopeful.

21

F
amily meeting tonight at 7. No excused absences.

Indigo sank to a new low when she saw the note posted on the refrigerator.

Of course, she had nowhere to go, so being there wouldn’t be a problem. But the idea of being summoned to a meeting with her parents when she should have been “grown and gone” deepened her self-pity.

It had been two weeks since she’d left the newspaper, and mostly, she spent her days pushing Aunt Melba’s wheelchair through the neighborhood on afternoon walks and halfheartedly perusing the bridal magazines Mama and Yasmin kept leaving on the kitchen table.

This morning, she and Aunt Melba started out early to beat the record haze and humidity the weatherman was predicting.

“You’re . . . quiet . . . extra,” Aunt Melba said five minutes into their usual circuit down tree-lined streets that showcased their favorite houses and flower beds. Indigo knew she meant “extra quiet.” Every so often, her aunt’s brain still got the words mixed up, and they came out in reverse order.

“No particular reason,” Indigo said. “Just one of those days.”