"Happy birthday, Indigo." Dolly always called me on my birthday. Although I hadn't seen her in six years, she had never forgotten my birthday and I'd never denied her call.
"Thank you, Dolly. How's Bridgewood?" I wondered if she was truly happy like she'd claimed to be years ago when she refused to move to the city with me. I wanted more, and she didn't. Small towns harbor small imaginations, my mother always said.
"Same old, same old. Missing you. Wondering if you'll ever return back to where you came from. God's country ain't the same without someone to share it with."
"All my love, but there's nothing there for me. There's so much life here in Baltimore. It wouldn't kill you to hop on a plane, you know." Dolly hesitated. She'd been lying when she said she missed me. I knew that, though. Dolly called purely out of obligation and guilty conscience over the incident during our freshman year. I was never able to tell her just how much I loathed the fact that she called me for my birthday; I called on hers, too, so maybe I was sending mixed messages.
"I'm far too scared of planes, Indigo. But I'll think about it. I'd love to keep talking with you, but you know, work." Dolly was unemployed, as I heard from my mother last week.
"Yeah, yeah. Talk soon, Dolly." She hung up without another word.
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"To what do we owe the pleasure, Indie?" Minthe was teasing. She knew what day it was.
"Birthday açaí bowls? I have the day off."
"No, you fucking idiot. I'm fasting for another three hours." Minthe in the morning is not someone to be messed with. Mix in her new diet and she's as irritable as a stray pebble in a tight pair of boots.
"That shit does not work." Tristan had finally picked up the phone. It usually took him a few rings to check the caller ID, so I took no offense to his late arrival.
"I'm twenty-fucking-four, you guys, "I announced. "Who cares about your diets?"
"Pratt Street in..." I could hear Tristan checking his calendar. "Fifteen minutes?"
Minthe groaned. "I'm still fasting, you assholes."
"Indie, let's tell her," Tristan ordered. Minthe groaned and I could hear her shuffling as the phone was quickly removed from her ear. "One, two," I counted.
"HOLIDAY CALORIES," We yelled in sync, "DO NOT COUNT."
I could barely hear the hang-up tone over our laughter.
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I rode to Andy's Açaí with the windows rolled down so I could appreciate the city. Not many Baltimoreans were there for the scenery; concrete buildings and the strangers sleeping against them. I wouldn't call it beautiful, or even nice, but there's something about it. It's always alive. Bridgewood was a nine-to-five town with a serious lack of strangers, crime, non-baked food; anything interesting, really. Baltimore in comparison felt like a whole new world.
I was wearing my favorite dress- red and long-sleeve, with a thin brown belt across my stomach. The brown boots that accompanied my dress were a clear sign that I hadn't forgotten my roots. I didn't look like a city girl. My hickory brown hair wrapped around my waist, thick and healthy. My skin is a natural tan, the kind that the blonde models on TV liked to wear for a week. I always thought I was average looking, except for one thing- my eyes. My wide eyes, which should've resembled my mother's in their chocolate glory, were a misty grey.
YOU ARE READING
Pluto
Fantasy"We never discussed the terms of this game." He's right. "Three wishes." But I'll only need one. "Risky. I could hurt you, Indigo." "I'm already dead, aren't I?" "Touché."
