Page 2 of Signs and Signals

Chapter One

Indya

“Get her out of my home!” Sonya’s voice pierced through the walls, sharp and unforgiving. I stood frozen, my eyes darting between Silas, my foster brother, and his mother, Sonya, who was screaming into the phone from the back room.

“It’s going to be okay, Indya,” Silas whispers, his arm around my shoulders, trying to shield me from the storm. “We will get through this together. You won’t have to do any of this alone. No matter what. I will always be you, me, Emerson, and Asia. Siblings or life. I promise.”

The nightmare jolted me awake, leaving me drenched in sweat and tears. I glanced at the clock—two o’clock in the morning. Lord, have mercy. Sleep was a distant hope now, as the nightmare’s emotions clung to my mind like a heavy fog. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the what-ifs and what could-have-beens. What if I had spoken up the first time? What if he had never started? Would I have a happy family? What if my parents hadn’t died? What if I had never been in foster care, never been abused? How different would my life be?

Stop thinking this way. You are who you are because of things that you have overcome in your life. You are a phenomenal mother to a beautiful daughter.Daughter. If none of that would have happened, I would not have the only personin my life who has my entire heart and soul. I would not give up or change anything, if it meant I would not have her by my side. Haven is just that, my safe haven, my person, my very best friend. Even at four years old, she is the most intelligent, most gentle soul to ever come from something so horrible as what I went through. So, no, I refuse to get lost in the what-ifs and what could-have-beens. I may not be the most social, happiest, or upbeat person, but I am content. Which is better than all the alternatives, in my opinion.

When I found out I was pregnant at seventeen, I was scared beyond belief. Especially the way it came about, which was terrifying in its own right. It never once crossed my mind to have an abortion or give her up for adoption. I wanted her. I needed her. It was not her fault the way she came into this world, she was innocent in everything that happened.

From the day I took that test, and for the rest of my life, I will put Haven above and ahead of anything else in my life. She will never know what it feels like to lose that sense of love and affection. I love her so big and so hard, even years and years from now, when I am old and gray, and she has a family of her own, she will know andfeelthe love, affection, and adoration I have for her. Nothing and no one can take that away from us.

I decide I’ve stared at the ceiling long enough and get up to start my day. I glance at the clock again, hoping I’ve wasted enough time in my thoughts to make my early rise seem somewhat normal. It’s not; the clock reads 3:10 a.m. This is definitely not a normal time for me to start my day. But it is what it is, so I head to the bathroom to shower and get dressed.

After the shower, I feel more awake than I should at this hour. I decide to start doing some laundry and tidying up rooms that don’t need tidying, since we cleaned everything the night before, as usual. Still, this helps shift my mind from the torrid dream to thoughts of what needs to be done today. In my currentsituation, that’s not much, unless it involves Haven. Then there’s plenty to do.

I hear her before I see her. The bump against the doorway to the bathroom gives away that Amara, my best friend and roommate, is now awake. Which means, the time has flown by, and it is now six o’clock. Amara, with her lively and extroverted demeanor, finds a sense of pride and stability in her daily routine. She works for Riverside Financial as a receptionist, but is doing online classes at night to earn her finance degree, so she can move up in the company.

I walk around the corner, and just as she steps from the bathroom, looking like a damn model, even in the early hour and just waking up, she is still beautiful. At five-foot-eight, with blonde hair, big blue doe eyes, and curves that any female would die for, she is a walking wet dream. Not that I swing that way, nor is there anything wrong with it, just saying though, if I did, she would do it for me.

Anytime we are out anywhere, the eyes of men and women of all ages and sizes are glued to her. Whether it is lust or envy in their eyes, they follow her until they can no longer see her. She either never notices, or just does not care because she always keeps talking or keeps on with whatever it is that she is doing at that time. Well, it could also be that she has a boyfriend, Trevor, who in my opinion, does not deserve to breathe the same air as Amara. To put his personality in one word—douche. But Trevor is very astute when it comes to not showing Amara his true colors, as he only shows off his doucheness when she is not around.

“Jesus, why do you always look like you speed off a runway when you just wake up, and the rest of us look like we just stepped out of the grave?” I must startle her, because she jumps as she is quietly trying to close the bathroom door.

“Fucking hell, Indya, you scared the ever-loving shit out of me! What the hell would you do that for? She whisper-yells, even though I am the only one in the house that would hear her.

“And don’t give me the‘you're too beautiful’talk again, as I have said before and will continue to say long into the future. You are gorgeous, Indya. You may not see it, but I do, and so do a lot of others around. I see the way men eye you up and down like you are the last piece of cake when we are out. So, stop giving me the‘ugly duckling’vibe on a daily basis, do you understand me?” She stands with one hand on her tilted hip, like a mother scolding her naughty child, while I struggle to hold in my laughter.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, mama. Does this mean we can’t have any sweets?” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, mumbling obscenities as she walks back to her room. Before closing her door to get ready for her day at the office, she pauses and turns towards me.

“You know I love you, right? I would do anything in this entire world for you and Haven. Please don’t hurt me by thinking you are below me in any aspect of life. We will leave it at: we are both smart, we both absolutely stunning, and we are capable of handling business without any help from men or anyone else, but what we give each other,” she says softly. All I can do is nod as she turns to her room, closing the door softly, leaving me standing in the hallway, staring at the space she was standing in while putting me in my place, once again.

Standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, I glance around our shared apartment. It’s not fancy, or huge, but it’s been home for almost a year.

The three-bedroom, one-bathroom space and an open-concept living room, kitchen, and dining area, with privacy in the bedrooms and bathroom. The small kitchen features a laminate countertop that looks like marble, a double sink, astove, and a refrigerator next to more cabinets. A big picture window at the back overlooking the trees and mountains, a view that never fails to bring a sense of calm.

The dining room, just inside the front door, holds a bookshelf and a table with four mismatched chairs, each with its own story. To the left is a spacious living room with a large black microfiber sectional we found on sale, an area rug with black and white circles, and a coffee table the landlord left behind. Apparently, it was too damn heavy, and he was too damn old to be moving people’s shit that was too lazy to move it themselves. His words, not mine. The living room has two side-by-side windows that let in the morning light, casting a warm glow over the room.

The hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom feels unnecessarily long, like a journey to another world. On the left, a plain wall with the bathroom in the center. The bathroom has a bathtub-shower combo, a toilet, and a sink—spacious enough to avoid feeling cramped but too small for the three of us at once.

On the right are the bedrooms, spaced about five feet apart, with thin walls that let sound travel easily. My room is first, Amara’s at the end, and we placed Haven right in the middle, so one of us would always be close if she needed us at night. The apartment isn't huge or fancy, but it’s our home, and we feel comfortable and safe here. The walls may be thin, but they hold the echoes of our laughter and the whispers of our dreams.

“Please tell me you made enough for me to have a cup now and one to take with me,” Amara whispers as she turns the corner from the hall to the kitchen.

“Of course, I did. You are my best friend, and what kind of friend and roommate would it make me if I only made enough for myself?” I laugh.

I push her already-made cup of coffee in front of her, just the way she likes it—a splash of cream and a heap of sugar. Then I set to making my own cup while she enjoys her first of many for the day. I add Sweet Crème creamer to my coffee and place it back in the refrigerator, and take the first sip of heaven. I glance over at Amara and see her staring at me with a weird look on her face.

“What?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing. Just admiring your beauty and awesomeness,” Amara replies, hiding a smirk behind her coffee cup.

I shake my head and walk to the dining room table where she sits, enjoying her coffee. For a moment, we just sit there and stare at each other, then burst into laughter. When the laughter finally settles, Amara clears her throat.

“Have you gotten any more leads on clients or jobs coming up this week?”

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