[Watty's Longlist 2018]
Eight years have flew by and Indigo Clark has all the things she hoped for. A successful boutique-check. Husband-check, check. Children-although they're a handful, check! Life is good, things are going fine until the biologic...
Indigo shielded a yawn as she sashayed in the kitchen, the click of her gold pumps against the wood floor making her appearance known.
"I hate that song," she proclaimed, stopping at the gray island to admire her niece's efforts to prepare a salad for her cousin. Now a teenager, Adira took pride in being a glorified babysitter to her outspoken little cousins, which earned her a plentiful payday at the end of each job.
"What?" In her box braids, blue jeans, and tribal-printed crop top, Adira gaped at her with a look of stupefaction. She stopped slicing the cucumbers just before the blade bit into the flesh of her finger. "I love The Weekend."
"Me too!" Thyme chirped from her chair at the dining table, her hand gripping a green glittery pencil. She claimed she just had to do the best writing she could. Her day at school could be told by the lopsided French braid and the frizzy curls rolling around her hairline. Her day was rough. "I love this song, too."
Indigo narrowed her mascara eyes at the eight-year-old. She caught on to what was happening; Thyme liked the song because Adira liked the song. Indigo knew that Thyme's infatuation with Adira would be a problem when she got older. When Adira got braids, Thyme wanted braids. If Adira painted her nails a shade, Thyme wanted that color. She was becoming the teen's mini-me.
"The beat is fine. It's the lyrics I can't stand." Indigo opened the oven door. The heat washed over her face as she breathed in the basil atop the sizzling lasagna she prepped before going to work." She closed the oven and turned back to them. She still had Adira's attention while Thyme was busy with her homework.
"I mean...I get she's a side chick, but it's hard for a girl out here." Adira started watching her Aunt tug at the waistband of her metallic skirt. "The dating pool is deficient."
"True," Indigo agreed. But if you think you're going to have my man on the weekend and both of their lives won't be in jeopardy on Monday, you lost every ounce of your mind."
Adira chuckled as she dumped the sliced cucumbers in the salad bowl, "Aunt Indie, you're funny."
"I'm being real," Indigo quipped with a pat on Adira's shoulder, noting that the girl was the same height as she was without heels. Where's GG?" She sidled beside Thyme, smoothing her hand over the girl's wild hair.
Thyme peered up at her with those big honey eyes that painted a smile on her lips, "In her room."
"Why isn't she down here? She loves watching the cheese melt." She pointed to the stove, remembering the countless times Greer would perch in front of the oven to watch the food cook as if it were the grand premiere of a new show. "Does it have anything to do with the conference your dad and I have had to go to?"
"She...told me not to say." Thyme looked down at the notebook paper on which she was writing sentences. "That it's a sister secret. Sorry, mama."
"Sister secret?" Indigo held her waist. The furrow of her arched eyebrows intensified as she glanced over at Adira. The teen shrugged in confusion. She looked back at her daughter slowly but neatly, writing a word, "Thyme, I your mama. You don't keep secrets from me. Tell me what's wrong with your sister." She lifted the little girl's chin, glaring into her eyes with her stern mother's face.
"Please, mommy, please..." Thyme begged with redness staining her caramel cheeks. "Don't make me be a snitch."
"Yeah, snitches end up in the graveyard," Adira informed, opening the oven door. "Homicide."
Indigo bored her eyes at the teenager, "What!"
"Uhh." Adira scratched her neck, "But that's probably not for people under twelve. So.... you'd be cool, Ty. No bodily harm."
"Really?" Thyme asked her cousin.
Adira gave the little girl a thumbs up and took the dish out of the oven.
"There's no such thing as snitching with family," Indigo said, letting go of Thyme's chin. "But do not lie to me. Did something happen at school today?"
"Um..." Thyme collapsed back in the chair, "At recess, someone told Greer she was mismatched."
"Mismatched?" Indigo echoed. "Meaning what?"
Thyme fiddled with her fingers, staring ahead. "That she..." Her tone went low. "She doesn't match us, but...but I told her that Daddy doesn't look like us either. He's bubbly beige, and he doesn't care."
Indigo's eyes went to the crayons, and she discovered where she got the color name from. She couldn't fight the smirk.
Thyme scratched her eyebrow and continued, "But she still cried, and...and I-I didn't punch anyone this time." Thyme looked up at her, her small star earrings gleaming, as she slowly swung her legs. "Even though I wanted to, I could've. But I didn't."
"Good girl." Indigo brushed her hand across her baby girl's head and kissed her forehead. "I'll handle it." She stalked out of the room with a fire burning in her belly. "Mismatched, my ass."
"Mommy, you cussed," Thyme called behind her.
"Let it go," Adira affirmed.
What do you think Indigo will do about this situation with Greer? What would you do?
How do you feel about SZA's song, "The Weekend"? Does she make a valid point?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
