Your Voice Was The Soundtrack Of My Summer

"Say that again,” I said slowly looking at Indigo making sure my ears heard the right words. This world was a huge puzzle, and only now were the pieces falling into the right place.

"I believe in magic Paul,” she said, looking at me, waiting for my reaction.

And if I died right now it wouldn't matter. As long as Indigo believed in love. As long as she...loved me back?

"Are you saying that you love. . ,” I trailed off, not able to finish the sentence, for fear of humiliating myself.

"Paul, I'm saying I believe in love now,” she noted, not hinting any display of emotion in her tone of voice.

But I felt my heart shatter itself again.
She didn't love me. My feelings for her remained unrequited.

I felt as if the world was raining down on me again. Reality hits hard, you know?

"What made you believe that?" I looked at her skeptically.

"Because you showed me how to love. But you kept a promise remember? And you're not going to break it,” she reminded me in an accusing tone.

"But you said it would be okay if it was broken,” I protested.

"I know, I meant me. Not you, Paul. But it would be bad either way,” Indigo shrugged.

"Indigo, if you believe in love, who do you love?" I prodded the question out of her.

"Paul, I'm not in love, whether you like it or not,” she adamantly announced.

And those words pounded on me and hit harder than a 20 ton weight.

~

I told her I had to go to the bathroom and escaped. I was too in "remorse" of what Indigo told me the night before. She wasn't in love. She wasn't in love with me. Unrequited love hurts. Bad. I remember Indigo and her flamboyance and her spontaneous energy that reminded me of someone elusive. Something that just couldn't be tacked down no matter what you do. That was my Indigo. That was her. And my Indigo wasn't in love with me.

The doorbell rang incessantly. I grudgingly opened the door, a bit appalled to see Indigo's face perkily set. She was totally oblivious of the sadness she caused me. Obviously unaware of the immensity of the toll it took on me.

"Hey Paul, why’d you ditch me?" she looked confusedly at me.

"Because, I pulled an all nighter,” I lied, hopefully succeeding in making the thin gossamer mask that hid my inconsistent love for Indigo.

"Well, I have a surprise for you,” she imploringly looked at me, tugging at my arm tentatively.

"At the beach?" I looked indifferently at her.
"No. There's only so much you can do at the beach,” her blue eyes sparkled, reminding me of unpolished diamonds catching light.
"Then where is it?" I looked, although still holding my grudge, intrigued.
"It's a surprise silly,” she flamboyantly looked at me.

"If I say yes. . ,” I started but Indigo grinned her genuine smile that won me over and hugged me tightly. I felt intense warmth throughout my body. Sometimes I felt as if this was an inviting feeling that was going to bring me closer to Indigo. Then, I felt this warmth was all I was going to get. Indigo would pull me in closer, reel me in, and just at the last moment throw me out. Which wasn’t at all what I wanted.

And so we walked hand in hand on the burning cement of the sidewalk, the white washed cement littered with blackened gum spots and smelly shit.

And this time both of us were barefoot.

My grudge vanished just at that moment.
Simple and easy how that could dissipate, huh?

~

"Don't peek!" Indigo's voice instructed as I was blindly lead up a staircase in the darkness, covered by Indigo's cold slender hands.

"Indigo, you know we look really stupid,” I noted.

"How should you know? As of right now you're blind,” she pouted.

I heard her momentarily pause at one location and heard the opening of a door creaking slowly.

"Now you can look,” she pulled down her hand and anticipated my reaction.

And let me say I wasn't expecting anything extravagant.
Not that it was extravagant.

I didn't expect anything really. You never do know what to expect when Indigo set up the surprise.

I was standing in the doorway of a dance studio that apparently was vacant. I looked skeptically at Indigo.

"You don't know how to slow dance,” she blatantly said.

I didn't even ask her why she knew this or how. Because she was absolutely right. My dancing skills lacked in every way. Dancing with Indigo would be asking an elephant to dance with a swan.

"Indigo, I don't dance,” I protested.

She looked at me pettily and hit the play button on the machine. It was a Beatles song that I was glad to hear. I looked at her nervously as she turned off the lights and set the lighting so it was more "dance oriented" and shut down the windows.

"Take my hand,” Indigo demanded.

And then when I did take her hand, everything disappeared. My insistence and my begrudging attitude. I grasped her hand and placed my hand over her hip. She whispered something in my ear, but I didn't hear her. I closed my eyes and saw a world of everlasting summer love.

Me and Indigo. Indigo and I.

"Paul?" she murmured in my ear.

"Yeah?" I swayed her.

"You said you didn't know how to dance,” I felt her mouth almost touch my ear.

"I don't,” I insisted.

"You haven't stepped on my toe yet. And you're unbelievably a natural,” she complimented my newfound talent.

And it was amazing because alone in that old dance studio was the only place I could ever dance. With Indigo that is. I never once stepped on her foot.

I consider that an accomplishment. Among other things.