Your Voice Was The Soundtrack Of My Summer

“You what?” I looked at her with disbelief, wondering if what she had held some stroke of lie to it, even if it was just a little bit.

“Paul, you heard me,” she told me with bitter sincerity.

“You have AIDS,” I said again, looking at her with incredulous disbelief.

“Paul, yesterday, when I said I had to visit someone far away, I lied,” she went on lamely, looking downcast.

“I knew it,” I smirked, at her, embracing myself for the worst best.

“I had a test. And they weren't good results. I have to go into treatment soon, and I don’t have that much longer to live,” she solemnly said not even bearing to look up at me making eye contact.

“You're kidding me,” I stared at her not wanting the words to sink in.

“I'm not,” she looked at me earnestly.

The words eased in my mind, trying to find a comfortable spot to settle in, but every ounce of me penetrated these thoughts, these words and I tried to create a barrier for myself. Tried to create a barricade words that I knew was true.

“Indi. Go. Rae. Saunders,” I emitted, saying her full name with amenity.

“Poolie,” she giggled my name and looked at me with playful jubilant eyes. I wondered how she could be so optimistic, when she knew that this summer would be her last.

“How can you be so optimistic, love? You're going to die in a matter of weeks, days even?” I asked.

“Because I'm going to spend it with you,” she smiled radiantly.

“But Indi, it's AIDS,” I protested looking at her.

“Paul, I swear if you keep saying the ‘A’ word I will castrate you,” she narrowed her eyes and breathed slowly, I felt her chilly breath against my wet skin.

“We have to make it last,” I finally decided.

“We have been Poolie. There's nothing more that you can do than just stay with me, okay?” she looked up at me for my reaction.

“I promise to never leave you,” I looked at her with every ounce of truth,

“No.. .I promise you,” she smiled gaily, and I could see every flawless smile wrinkles on her face as she leaned in closer in yet another engagement of lips and love.

-

I woke up to Indigo's wild hair all over my chest and soft soft eternal breathing.
“Indi,” I blew her soft hair off my chest and tucked it under her tiny ears.

She moved a little and blinked her eyes open.
Her face contorted into confusion, but when she saw my face it flexed into happiness.

“Hey Poolie,” she grinned.

“Morning darling,” I stroked her hair.

“I love you,” she murmured ever so silently.

Those words almost put me into a rheumatism panic. Coming out of her lips was something that made me feel bubbly all over.

“I love you too, Indi,” I said, gathering her face in my hands and knocking the breathe out of her, toppling over the messy sheets and engaging our lips.

-

“I swear, my mom will kill me,” Indigo laughed as she winced at the needle that was being presented to her.

“You think mine won't?” I looked at her in perplexity

“Poolie. Why do I have to go first?” Indigo complained as fidgeted in the seat.

“Sweetheart, you gotta be still or else it won't work,” the gruff looking man with a bazillion tattoos and an orange wiry beard that seemed to outgrows Noah's own beard steadied Indigo with his metal of an arm.

“Indi, just close your eyes, okay?” I squeezed her hand as she shut her eyes. The man with the outgrown beard winked at me and started to puncture Indigo's hipbone.

“It's okay, you're doing fine Indi,” I assured her as I saw him start to print out the letter P over the intricate heart he already did.

“I can't believe you talked me into this,” she muttered under her breath.

A few minutes went by as I consoled Indigo about the pain and she squeezed me harder than ever. Sometimes I think about her. I think about how I'm lucky enough to have found a true soul mate. I think about how unfortunate I am since I don't get to marry the girl of my dreams. And that's what went through my mind as she clutched on to my fingers for life.
Mostly I just thought about how we were going to spend the rest of the summer.

“Finished. Your turn Poolie boy,” the man gruffly said and blew on Indigo's hip.

“Don't touch it sweetheart, or you might be in more excruciating pain than you are in now,”
he advised Indigo. She looked at him as if what he said was ludicrous.

“There's more excruciating pain than this?” she made a face.

And damn was she right. The pain was excruciating. Nausea overwhelmed me, drowning me into an ocean of pain. I felt as if time stopped, my breathing paused, as I felt Indigo's voice from faraway.

“Keep in there, Paul. Almost done.”

More pain, as I felt my own body being excavated and explored. My skin dug and painfully pierced.

“Kid you're done,” his voice was gruff and hoarse. I felt a cool air blow over my hipbone.

“Hey it looks pretty Poolie,” Indigo smiled at me as I opened my eyelids.

“So, that'd be $50 kid,” the gruff man brought out a tattooed hand covered with prints of lolita girls and skulls.

Indigo glanced at my hipbones that read Indi as I read her hips emblazoned with my name, handing over the bill to the Noah man, I couldn't help but think that this was a way of trying to keep her permanent and alive, when she clearly wasn't.

-

“You know I think protruding hip bones are sexy,” Indigo remarked as we lay on the bed of sand. We were both flaunting off our new tattoos at the beach with our swimwear. The Boston sun beat relentlessly on us as the ocean curled at our feet, tickling our toes with warm salty water. Our wet warm bodies plastered with granules of white sand.

“My hip bones? Or just hip bones in general?” I looked over at my hipbones and saw that indeed they were protruding.

“Yours. I guess,” she absentmindedly shrugged.

I took a deep breath and decided to bring up the topic once and for all. It didn't matter that Indigo hated us talking about this matter. It was a decision of life and death. How can I not bring it up?

“Indi?” I asked with a little apprehension.

“You're going to talk to me about the AIDS thing again, aren't you?” Indigo asked sitting up, careful not to damage or injure her new tattoo.

“Is it really that obvious?” I asked looked defeated. So much for easing into the subject.

“Whenever you talk to me like that, with that tone, you can always tell you're about to talk to me about something important,” Indigo rationalizes and watched as I joined her cross-legged position.

“Well, yeah, that's what I'm going to talk about,” I took another deep breath and held her hand. I wasn't surprised that she didn't pull away. Instead she tightened her grip and looked down at the sand.

“You're wondering how I got it,” she predicted. I had to admit, she was very good.

“Yeah, yeah I am,” I cleared my throat. It was suddenly becoming very awkward and uncomfortable talking to her. I wanted it all to stop. I wish she didn't have her disease so we could go to school together, graduate together, marry each other, love each other, have a family with each other, die together.

Indigo just had to have a life threatening infection.

“I didn’t have sex, don’t worry. It was my dad, he got it and without telling my mother he had sex with her. It was mother to child transmission. The doctors, by the way, , said I had a couple weeks to live. So four weeks.” she replied with an audacity that matched a shy little kindergartener on the first day of school.

“4 weeks?” I asked with disbelief.

Two weeks until we know whether Indigo would die now or in ten years. It was a lose-lose situation. I sighed heavily and looked out onto the ocean, with her holding my hand as tight as I would let her. She laid her head down on my shoulder and nestled next to me.

“It doesn't matter,” she said confidently.

I had to give her credit for being brave.

Indigo was by far the bravest person I knew. I admired her for it. Trust me, if I was an AIDS victim I would go ballistic and probably be cooped up in my room playing video games until I die. But Indigo, she was a wonder. I can't emphasize HOW lucky I was to be with her. To earn her love.

“Because, I love you Poolie. I really do,” she added with even more confidence.

“I love you more,” I said kissing her lightly on the cheek.

-

I scoured the stores for the perfect one. The perfect necklace. For once Indigo wasn't with me and it was a rare thing, since we agreed on spending time with each other like 24/7. My parents were awed by our love, well honestly my mom was, and she was convinced we were to be high school sweethearts and marry each other and grow old together and have little baby grandkids.

Wrong. Definitely wrong, mother.

My hands brushed the racks and racks of chains and jewelry, and only until my fingers examined a silver pewter charm did I find the perfect one.

It was perfect. Two chains that created one heart. It wasn't even flat like those cheap ones at Claire’s (god forbid I know those names). It was 3D (is there any other word to explain it?) with the words Love Forever inscribed on it. It was gorgeous, and apparently real silver. Even the chain was silver.

“$70” the cashier asked in a monotone voice. She was worth it. She was more than $70. Indigo was worth at least trillions of dollars. She was priceless, I felt so cheap buying her half of a silver necklace.

-

Walking out the store I held the necklace in between my fingers and decided how to present it to her. It was like asking to marry her almost. Without the asking. It was giving her the engagement ring without asking to be engaged. In a way, that was the damn straight truth. If I could, Indigo and me would have been married for a long time now.