Indiana Johnson

The same day that Mama had delivered me into this dazzling blue and green spectacle, my Pop was on his knees digging through dirt and found one of the largest diamonds in the world.

It was my Pop’s idea to take a road trip while my Mama was eight months pregnant. Mama was always the adventurer type, so a drive out to Murfeesboro, Arkansas sounded just fine. It was July of 1975 when my parents rolled out of Amarillo, Texas in a tiny red Volkswagen convertible.

A tent wasn’t exactly the best accommodation for a pregnant woman, but that didn’t concern Pop. His interests laid in the ground underneath where Mama was sleeping. At first Mama imagined the trip to be a romantic getaway for two, but soon found herself in a state park that rested over a diamond crater. Pops handed Mama a shovel and said, "Start digging."

Days had gone by and Mama’s belly was expanding. She could hardly get up after a day’s worth of digging. By the time she was ready to have me, Pop was really making progress with his shovel. He stayed behind while some locals rolled her to the hospital in a wheelbarrow. A few hours later I was born and Mama got a call from Pop, "I’m gonna call him Amarillo Starlight."

Mama said, "That sounds like a great name for our boy."

"No, that’s the name I’m giving this diamond I just found. It’s the size of a walnut. We’re rich! Don’t tell anyone."

Mama carried me out of the hospital a few days later wrapped up in a bed sheet and hopped on a bus back to Amarillo. She didn’t care much for seeing Pop or his diamond, but she took a liking to the name Amarillo.

Other than Mama, Pop never told a soul about his diamond. He would sometimes approach jewelers for appraisals, but would then panic, "I was just looking around. I don’t have anything to sell."

He’d phone home once in a blue diamond moon and tell Mama about the way Amarillo shines in the river light. Mama would tell Pop that her Amarillo could walk and talk, but she’d never make a fuss about me needing a Pa or her needing a husband. She would take me to work with her at the shirt factory and she’d use one foot for sewing and the other to rock my carriage.

Meanwhile, Pop’s road trip turned into a permanent one. He became obsessed with finding a diamond that was bigger than Amarillo Starlight. Wherever he would go, Amarillo was there. In the daytime he would have conversations with it and laugh like he was drinking beers with his buddies, all the time looking down at his boots where he kept it concealed. He’d create nicknames for it like Armadillo and Rillo Loco. They would go on hikes and he’d tell it stories about his childhood. "Amarillo, I’m going to find you a big brother."

It was a frigid February night when I was awoken by the cries of my Aunt Meg who would sometimes baby-sit for me. The sheriff was standing at our door with his hat in hand giving her the news of my Mama’s passing. She was working a few extra nights a week in a rodeo competition. Some people in the town say she was the best bull rider they’d ever seen. It was a demon bull, full of storm and fury, they’d say. Anyway, that’s how it was explained to me. I was only ten years old. I don’t think Lake Meredith could hold the amount of tears I let go.

After a few weeks I was back in school and Aunt Meg was living at the house. The entire time she didn’t know what to say to me, so she’d nervously rattle off the plot lines to all of her favorite soaps. I liked the stories in those shows because every time you thought someone was gone for good, they would miraculously return. It was after my introduction to soap operas when a long bearded man entered my house, dropped a sack of clothes on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator for a grape juice.

He noticed me staring at him while gulping down his juice. "Hey. Are you, Amarillo?" he asked.

I glanced back into the living room and saw Meg snoring away on the couch. "How do you know me?"

He proceeded to take off one of his scuffed boots, "You are the big brother of Amarillo Starlight," he said while sliding off a grey sock from his foot and searching inside. "It’s gone!" he moaned in terror, "Dillo Loco is gone forever."

I noticed a smooth translucent rock on the floor, "Is this what you’re looking for?"

"Thank God, you have found him," he stepped toward me and clasped his hands around mine.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It is your brother. You are to keep him until I return. You must take him wherever you go. You must not tell anyone that he exists. You must not show him to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Why? What will happen?"

"You must promise!" he spoke.

"Okay, I promise."

"Good boy."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Alaska. Gonna catch me some king crab and get rich."

He would return years later to check on Armadillo and I. I had never heard of a scarlet king crab at the time, but now I have a tank full of them. According to Pop, they are our top secret cousins. Then there was the New Foundland expedition when he planned to get rich by clubbing baby seals, but instead brought three live ones to my college dorm and said, "Don’t tell anyone about them, but they are you nephews." That was one secret I had a hard time keeping. Them baby seals were real chick magnet. Pop is always full of surprises; just ask my wife, the Holy Grail.