Your Voice Was The Soundtrack Of My Summer

The phone rang when Indigo’s lips were on mine. Basking in the privacy of our vacated dance room, listening to the dust littered stereo while some hard grind-core music blared unexpectedly from the speakers. My back was leaning against the mirrored wall, my head just under the wooden bar. Indigo’s face tore away when she heard the phone, but a phone call wouldn’t distract from what I wanted the most. I pulled her face in closer, her lips hesitating at first, but finally giving in and her grip on my arms loosened when the ring died out. Only when Indigo was finally getting comfortable the phone rang again, I cursed the phone and Indigo abruptly pulled away, as if our parents just walked into the room.

“Damn phone,” I muttered searching in my pocket for the device.

“It might be Beef,” Indigo suggested, shrugging.

I looked at the caller ID, Indigo was right.
The four letters were in black bold letters accompanied by his number at the bottom.

“Hello?”
“Hey, Paul, it’s Beef.”
“’Sup man?”
“I got good news for you.”
“That so?”
“I let the guys listen to you, they’re really impressed. So, how about coming down to meet us soon?”
“Sure, where at?”
“At the Cabana, like near the beach?”
“I know the place.”
“Meet us there tonight at –what time you guys wanna go?! 8?- eight.”
“Will do, Beef.”
“See you tonight.”
“See you.”

I felt a wave of some sort accomplishment and achievement, although all that happened by far was extreme luck and just chance. Indigo looked at me expectedly, her eyes waning some sort of desire and want, although I couldn’t place the exact desire.

“Can I come?” she asked, looking at me sincerely.

“Of course, I would do horrible without you, you know that,” I stated, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek.

“You’re flattering me,” Indigo pouted, looking at me matter-of-factly.

“That’s my job,” I snagged a line from a movie and embraced her tighter.

God, I never knew how the hell I was going to live without her.
Or if I would live at all.

-

“Hey, mom, do you think me and Indigo could maybe go out to the beach tonight?” I asked my mother, with Indigo looking at me intently and cautiously at my mother.

Half of me knew she was going to begin with the sex talk, even when Indigo was right by my side. But I had little hope that she was going to spare me the embarrassment. I was wrong.

“The whole night?” she asked skeptically, eyeing Indigo carefully.

“Yes. The whole night,” I emphasized my words, wondering if the truth of Indigo’s condition was our only way out.

“Paul, you should know me better, do you honestly think I would let you go out alone on the beach? Paul, I hope you know what happens when a couple is left alone for the night. I thought you would have a better excuse or lie,” she looked at me with the ‘eye’ and at Indigo indignantly.

“Mom, look, we weren’t even thinking that. We’re just going to a gig, since they recruited me as a guitarist. Plus, we can’t have s-e-x because Indigo. . .” I trailed off.

Shit. Am I allowed to tell my mom her secrets? I felt like melting and crawling into a hole at that moment, my cheeks growing red. I imagined it resembled a cherry of some sort.

“Indigo what?” my mother eyed her suspiciously and looked at me.

“Indigo has AIDS,” Indigo said in a small but strong voice.

I looked at her in a wave of astonishment. Was she really going to admit that in front of my mother’s face? Or was the truth really the only way I could escape and achieve my dream, or my goal for that matter?

I shifted my attention to my mother, who was looking at Indigo with a sympathetic face. Her voice was a scorched when she tried to talk.

“I’m sorry…. You didn’t get it from him did you?” she pointed at me, with a shaky finger.

I thought I died and went to Hell. I closed my eyes in frustration wondering why the hell my mother would make assumptions and accusations that quickly. Did she really not trust me with abstinence?

“Mom…” I cringed when she stared long and hard at the both of us.

“It was mother to child transmission,” Indigo plainly said, taking the whole matter coolly and calm. Of course she would. It was in her nature. Obviously.

“Oh, I see, well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” my mother gave in, wiping the back of her palm on her forehead.

Was that a gesture of ‘phew, she has AIDS, good my son won’t get her in trouble’ or ‘I’m tired as a freaking pregnant woman and I have no idea why I’m not in bed’?

I mentally asked myself while Indigo bade her farewell and dragged me outside.

“Indi, you didn’t have to tell her,” I told her, hand in hand as we walked on the sidewalk on the way to the beach.

It was 7:20. We were going to get there in 15 minutes.

Indigo shrugged abysmally and swung her arm back and forth rapidly.

“Because she would have to know sooner or later you know?” she looked at me with a serious face.

The pain, that acid in my stomach filled my intestines once more as I thought of Indigo in a hospital bed smiling weakly with wires connecting her to a machine. I blinked and it only got worse as I imagined black clad people mourning over a mahogany box and I saw myself holding dark red rose and placing inside the box.

I shivered and looked at the ground desperate not to let Indigo know that I was thinking of her, dead.

But actions speak louder than words. And my actions told it all, even without looking at her.

“Paul, I wasn’t thinking about that,” she emphasized and curiously I looked over to her.

“About how I would visit you everyday at the hospital?” I asked.

“Well, I guess, and eventually she would be wondering about why I was acting so weird. You know? It just saves the explanation. At least she didn’t go ballistic,” Indigo noted.

Not ballistic? Was she crazy?

“Not ballistic? Indigo, she asked if you got it from me,” I sullenly reminded her, seeing the sunset go down under the palmetto trees, creating the illusion of a dim orange light illuminating the dark trees, seemingly hiding from the trees creating a purple and pink aura in the sky.

“But she didn’t go all, ‘ARE YOU OKAY, ARE YOU ALRIGHT, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO DIE’, did she?” Indigo rationalized.

I pondered this and realized she was right, but either way was worse in my opinion.

“But still, she jumped to conclusions,” I reminded her conclusively.

“Well, okay, yeah she did. Technically she assumed right. We’ve been having it, every other way other than intercourse,” Indigo smirked knowingly at me, elbowing me in the stomach.

I laughed at that comment. I had the wanting, I know, but she was right, we swapped spit like it was our addictive drug.

“You mean swallowing each others tongues?” I asked, knowing that Indigo would blush and deny, even though we both witnessed the spit swapping.

“No, like, other stuff,” she meekly emitted.

“I’m not even going to argue with you Indi,” I said, shaking my head at her defiance, how subtle it may be.

“You crazy ass. I hate that I love you so much that I can’t hate you,” she laughed, squeezing my hand tighter.

I was about to reply with some smart answer but car’s honking disturbed my thoughts and made me jump out of my skin, considering the fact that the driveway was pretty much deserted at this time of day.

I turned around just in time to see a beat up white Volvo, with an eager Beef rolling down the window using his arms to wheel the contraption.

“You guys want a ride? We have room for two and a guitar,” Beef gestured, showing the empty seats, even if there was a fluffy brown haired manorexic guy driving and a longhaired blonde with sleeves of tattoos on his arms riding shotgun.

“Sure,” I trailed looking at Indigo sideways, her head nodded eagerly, and the guys pulled over creating a screeching halt on the road. I never could imagine that one car and three guys could ruin the summer solstice of our town just like that.

The trunk door opened and I settled Delilah in, amongst the other sets, including the drum set and the bass guitar. It sort of reminded of Mary Poppins, how she had a bag that would fit like everything even though it was like a regular backpack.

Indigo was settled in, singing to some old 80’s tune with the blonde –as I now know as Bryan- and she smiled euphorically when she saw my face.

How I lived for those smiles.

“So, Paul this is the crew. That’s Martin over there at the wheel, he’s the singer,” Beef gestured towards the fluffy haired skinny guy who offered his hand to me, which I took and shook, which reminded me of meeting my father’s business partners and how their handshakes were pretty beastly.

“Of course, since the looks always belong to the lead,” Martin scoffed, licking his hand and smoothing it over his marshmallow of a hair.

The blonde snorted and offered his hand in return.

“I’m Bryan, bassist. Nice to meet you Paul,” Bryan grasped my hand, and I feared for the suffocation for my poor hand.

“Paul, hopeful guitarist,” I nodded at him, pulling away my hand abruptly hoping my hand wouldn’t look like a shriveled prune.

It didn’t. I was mildly surprised.

“That’s my…girlfriend Indigo Rae,” I motioned for the guys, who they all shook hands with. Indigo looked astonished at my choice of words, and then I wondered if I should have said something else, worrying that maybe I had the wrong word choice.

But she smiled, her euphoric smile, the smile I had come to love and anticipate, and all those thoughts of doubt seemed to dissipate.

“So, that was a pretty sweet song you played. What was it?” Martin asked, as he swerved on a turn, very sharply just barely missing the angled art studio building.

I realized sadly that Martin probably didn’t even own a drivers license. Much less a permit. Even though he was at least 17.

His confusion on our song being a real full fledged produced song was pretty, awry to me, but in a cool way. The thought of our song blaring on radios on other people’s cars and stereos was pretty fascinating. Sadly it was still just an acoustic only heard to the ears of three band hopefuls, Indigo and my mother.

“It was uh, a personal song. We wrote it,” I stumbled over my words, hoping that some sort of modesty was still clear in my voice.

“No way! You’re shitting me! That was a pretty sweet piece. I really liked it,” Bryan –the suffocating handshake- enthused.

“Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say as Kurt Cobain’s voice and lyrical genius filled the air.

“Damn straight it was good, we ain’t got shit complete. We got a few demos but they sound like crap when I play the guitar,” Martin confessed, yet again avoiding the angry glare and the finger of an angry driver.

“It’s really not that bad, a few notes that are a bitch to hear, but it’s still not bad,” Beef shrugged, trying to encourage Martin.

I nodded, holding a tight arm around Indigo who was head banging with Bryan to Smells Like Teen Spirit.

The car came to an abrupt stop and we heard a clash of instruments from the trunk, while Beef cursed Martin for not parking more carefully.

Indigo helped Beef carry the drum set, while Martin grabbed his Ibanez and Bryan his Gibson. I faithfully held on to my acoustic Delilah, wondering if they were going to give me a Les Paul or Fender to play with, considering the fact that I had no possession of an expensive electric guitar.

It wasn’t much, and I had no idea what exactly I was thinking. Maybe a cornered stage with props and multi colored lights, with bar stools and small table booths and crazed fans head banging to the drums in a dimly illuminated only by candlelight atmosphere.

It was actually backstage, behind the real stage, which did not match my description at all. Instead it was more of a center stage thing with a bar off to the side and stairs on either side leading to a wooden balcony with another bar with even more drunk people staring down.

At our set, Indigo settled herself on the black sofa that looked battered while she looked curiously at the simple Gibson that Beef was handing me.

“That good? Or do you want something more expensive?” smirked Beef.

I shook my head strumming the Gibson, quickly taking a liking to the brown surfaced guitar.

“So, here’s some chords you think you can follow? I want to see how it turns out.” Martin shrugged, handing me a sheet with some chords and scratched out lyrics.

It was easy enough to follow, some difficult chords here and there. I glanced over at Indigo and gave her a wink. She rolled her eyes back at me; I took that as a sign of… love?

Martin started singing, his voice throaty and pop-ish and was undeniably good, I stumbled over a few chords, but they went unnoticed. The guys encouraged me on playing more, Beef telling me that I should play the Soundtrack Of My Summer song for them later.

That’s when she came in. Honestly she looked like a model. We were playing a song titled The Great Escape when I heard a voice chat rather loudly on the phone. Her sunglasses were perched on top of her head, her skinny jeans hugging her figure. She had blonde hair cut expertly that went down to her collarbone. Her dark brown eyes were outlined in thick black eyeliner, her short petite figure made her look about 14 years old, when I knew in her face that she was about our age.

“… look he’s being a complete jerk. I’ll call you back, I’m at my brother’s set, and they have a new guy. Hm, of course, I think guitarist. Yeah, alright, bye already!” the girl dropped her phone into her purse and looked quaintly at us.

“Lace, honestly, your totally ruining our jam,” Bryan said in an annoyed voice. I saw the resemblance in them. It was pretty idiotic of me not to notice before. They looked the exact same, only the girl had a smaller frame and makeup. Bryan was bulkier and had no makeup.

Thank god.

“Jeez, sorry for ruining your jam. I’ll just be on out now, who’s the new guy though?” she looked curiously at me, smiling manically at me, although it didn’t have the effect she quite would have liked.

“I’m Paul and that’s my girlfriend Indigo Rae,” I motioned to Indigo, who was pursing her lips and looking defiantly at the girl’s direction.

“I’m Lacey, Lace. I’m Bryan’s twin sister,” she said, grabbing my hand and Indigo’s in a polite gesture.

“Hey, so Lace, how about tonight maybe at … Figaros?” Martin asked, suggesting an Italian diner.

“Sorry champ. I have to sleep early; I have a modeling agency I have to visit, since our mom is being a total psycho freak about my whole career. She’s convinced that I’m not good at anything so she resorted to this,” Lacey explained her condition.

“Lace, it’s not that bad. You could like pioneer this whole new Internet fad craze. I don’t know,” Bryan told his sister warmly, seeing his sensitive side.

It was pretty odd, considering that I always had envisioned twin siblings to fight endlessly. I guess I figured that this scenario was much better than what I imagined.

“The last thing I want to be, is like a famous transgender myspace queen,” Lacey rolled her eyes at her brother.

“You could be a sexy Jeffree Star,” Martin enthused, arching his eyebrows suggestively.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Lacey obliged, sipping her McDonalds soda and taking a seat next to Indigo.

“Hello,” Lacey smiled at Indigo who smiled her special smile she usually reserved for me.

“I’m Indigo, Paul’s girlfriend,” Indigo offered her hand, and nodding her head towards my direction.

“Oh, really? Nice to meet you,” I heard Lacey’s faint reply and didn’t have time to see her facial reaction, since Beef started his little count beat with his drum sticks and we started The Great Escape once more, and I got lost in the music once more.

-

Indigo was yawning in the black tattered sofa. She was hugging her knees, and smiling weakly at me, her eyes telling me she was dead tired. Lacey was curled up into a tiny ball fast asleep, her head on the arm of the soda. Bryan sighed as he saw his petite sister and shook his head. Martin smiled at the sight of Lacey asleep, while Beef gave me a knowing look.

“So, Paul has an encore,” Beef started, Bryan was already on the sofa, about to cradle his sister, Martin already packing up his guitar.

I shrugged modestly, while Indigo handed me Delilah.

I sat on the drum set stool and felt the familiar frets and strings of Delilah, her familiar touch that I have grown up with since the age of 12.

From the corner of my eyes I saw Bryan waking his sister and I saw her stir, I saw Martin settling into the couch, watching me intently and Beef smiling, knowing his mates would be impressed. I only turned to see Indigo, just to see that tired smile plastered on her face it made everything seem ecstatically real.

Today is a winding road
That’s taking me to places that I didn’t want to go, whoa
Today in the blink of an eye
I’m holding on to something and I do not know why I tried
I tried to read between the lines
I tried to look in your eyes
I want a simple explanation; what I’m feeling inside
I gotta find a way out
Maybe there’s a way out
Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer
Do you know you’re unlike any other?
You’ll always be my thunder, and I said
Your eyes are the brightest of all the colors
I don’t wanna ever love another
You’ll always be my thunder
So bring on the rain
And bring on the thunder

“You wrote that?” Lacey’s eyes shot up to look at mine in the face. I nodded. She looked surprised, astonished almost, her eyes casting a luminous look. I saw Martin and Bryan clapping in unison and Beef giving the I Told You So looks and speeches. Indigo was still hugging her knees giving me a small smile, her eyes darting around the room and her hair mussed from probably lack of sleep and trying to, but attempting to stay awake.

“Well, I guess we’ll be off now, thanks again guys,” I nodded, packing up Delilah in her case.

“You guys need a ride, we always have room,” Bryan asked, as soon as we got out to the parking lot.

I looked at Indigo, her tired eyes, her hair blowing away in the 2 in the morning wind, her faded smile. She shook her head politely, urging at me to say no.

“It’s alright, me and Indi will just stay the night,” I assured Martin, they all looked skeptical at first, but I assured them that it was alright. They finally shrugged and gave in to the idea, and only when they all got into the car and waved their goodbyes and veered out of the lot did I tear off my shirt and carry Indigo on my back, as I felt her tired head lay on my back.

We let the early morning air cool our sweat soaked skin, as we ran through the beach, feeling the slight spray of ocean water sprinkle our hair, and the sand particles sticking to the back of my legs as we ran.

I finally put her down, and she was full awake her eyes shining telling me she was happy, as she lay on the sand, with me lying by her side.

“That was good,” she finally said, finding my hand in the darkness.

“I guess, you think we’ll go big someday?” I asked her, feeling her body warmth and moving closer to the source.

“You will, and you’ll be rich and Martin will have affairs with different models girls, before Lacey realizes their right for each other and Bryan will have a serious girlfriend and Beef will just be like, whatever and you,” Indigo started to say, but I stopped her immediately.

“I will be here at the beach, just thinking of you,” I told her before she could say anything else.

“Poolie, I don’t want to be buried and have a tombstone,” her voice was clear and sturdy and serious when she said this. I didn’t respond to this, just waited for her answer.

“When I die, I want to be cremated and thrown out into the ocean. So I’ll always be there with you, in a way when you come to the beach,” she replied softly, fingering my hair.

I felt a pit feeling in my stomach, like I was falling or that sort of nervous feeling you get when you’re up high and have no freaking clue how to get down.

“So, you’re deciding to torture me by leaving your remains in the ocean?” I asked her playfully.

I imagined her having a glaring stare at me, but thank god I couldn’t see or else she would have burned a hole in my heart with her eyes.

“Fine, you can have me buried with a bunch of other bodies if you like, decaying and rotting. I was trying to be romantic Paul,” Indigo said in a hurt tone.

“Indigo, I’m kidding, of course I’ll throw you out into the ocean, and I’ll keep a few cinders near my heart, if that’s okay with you,” I hit her playfully on her arm.

“It’s fine, I would do the same,” she told me, leaning in closer to me, and settling her head in the niche in between my head and shoulder and right next to my neck, she whispered in my ear,

“I love you Paul Charles DiGiovanni,” and she planted a kiss on my right cheek and my lullaby that night was her soft and steady breathing and the roll of the waves hitting the soft carpet of shells and sand.