by Seven Steps
Marshall patted Roland on the back hard enough to sting, and turned back to his beer.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to be with some people that you may not be used to. Abolitionists are all for freedom for niggers.”
“What’s a nigger?”
Marshall’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s a nigger? Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“A nigger is … is … okay. Terra and Joanna are niggers, though Joanna may be a half-breed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If someone’s skin is darker than yours, then they’re a nigger. Anyone that is your color or my color or Nic’s color is considered white. In America, white skin is considered good, and dark skin is considered bad.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Marshall sputtered. “I don’t know why. No one knows why. That’s just the way America works. White people make slaves out of niggers. Or at least they did until Lincoln freed them a few days ago.”
One truth stood out to him. Though he couldn’t remember his planet’s name, or most of what had happened before that morning, one fact stayed with him as clear as crystal.
“Where I’m from, all men were slaves, regardless of their skin color. Women owned us.”
“Back in India?” Marshall smiled.
Roland chuckled. “Yes. Back in India.”
“Are you ever going to tell me who you are?” Marshall asked.
“One day,” Roland replied. “But you have to tell me more about slavery first.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s slavery like here?”
“Well, they bring the niggers over from Africa in big ships, and they make them work on plantations, and they pick cotton and stuff.”
“Do they beat them?” Roland asked.
“Did they beat you?” Marshall asked.
Roland’s face contorted as he struggled to remember his ever-fading past.
In blurry pictures, he recalled the beatings, the loneliness, the helpless. He tried to imagine what life was like for the slaves on Earth. Did they, too, feel helpless, loveless, and trapped?
In that moment, he instantly knew what he wanted to say at the rally. The language of the slave was universal, no matter what planet you lived on.
“I think that I’m ready to go,” Roland said.
“Yeah.” Marshall drained his glass, grunted, and slammed the glass on the counter. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got to get you to bed. You’ve got to change the world tomorrow.”
They walked out of the bar and back down the street.
The night seemed electric.
A young man and woman ran down the street, giggling with each step. Roland watched them as they disappeared around the corner. The urge to see Joanna overpowered him, and he quickened his pace toward the boarding house. He passed Marshall and took the stairs two by two. He rushed past a short black man shuffling his way down the hallway, and burst into room five, spilling light into it.
Joanna stirred but didn’t wake.
He crept in and removed his shirt and boots. Standing at the foot of the bed, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from her peaceful face, or how beautiful she was even in the deep recesses of her dreams. He put his hand over his heart and sighed.
“She in love with you?” Marshall asked from across the room. He was in the midst of balancing himself on one foot to pull off his shoe.
Roland shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I wish she was.”
“Anybody who can look at someone while they’re sleeping like that, should have them, I say.”
Roland smiled. He imagined asking Joanna to be his wife.
Would she say yes? Would she be happy?
He slid into bed next to her and continued to watch her dream. Reaching out a rough hand, he stroked her cheek. Her skin felt soft and sent pins and needles through his body. He ran a finger down the length of her arm and back again.
It feels like I’m touching her for the first time. Maybe I am.
He continued to gaze at her until the vision of her face burned into his brain. Then he closed his eyes, dreaming of the woman who made his heart shiver.
CHAPTER 25
Though the air was sweltering, it was the unfamiliar heat next to her that awoke Joanna.
Roland was still fast asleep, snoring softly. His midnight hair fell over his eyes. His full lips parted slightly as he slept.
Raw emotions surged through her at the sight of him. Joy. Desire. Fear. Her stomach flipped, as if she were free falling. Happiness rose in her chest, and she bit her lip to keep from bridging the inches between them and kissing him the way he had kissed her the day before.
Have I ever woken up beside him before? she wondered. It feels like the first time.
She inched closer to him.
What’s happened to me? I feel so strange. Like today is the first day of my life. Like nothing else matters but me and him.
She examined his face.
He’s so beautiful.
She wanted to look at him forever. Next to him, she felt peaceful, calm, and content. Her finger rose from beneath the sheets, and she traced a line from the sharp bridge of his nose to his strong jaw line. When she let her fingers run over his lips, she remembered his kiss the day before.
I was so afraid. But, I don’t feel that fear anymore. I don’t feel that heavy hand holding me back. I’m not afraid anymore.
She leaned in close to him, anxious to feel his lips on hers. Their lips touched, sending a fire surging through her bones. To her surprise, he kissed her back. She pulled away, watching him flutter his eyes awake and grin.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep.
She covered her smile with one hand, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. His hand moved up until it found hers, and pulled it away from her smiling mouth. He kissed her knuckles, keeping her hand tight in his.
“I feel like we’ve never done this before,” she said, her eyes focused on their joined hands.
“Me, too.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
His smile turned mischievous. “That kiss was an excellent start.”
She smiled back. “No, Roland. I mean words. Real words. What do people say to each other in the morning? Goodness, that seems like a stupid question. Only, I can’t remember just this second and I—”
“I love you.”
The confession rendered her speechless. She searched his gaze; his longing look.
Does he mean it? Has he ever said it to me before?
The furthest back she could remember was yesterday, and she recalled being particularly rude to him then.
Why can’t I remember?
“People like me say I love you when they wake up next to someone they love,” he said, his expression turning hopeful. “What do people like you say?”
Heart pounding, hands shaking, she took a deep breath.
“People like me say, I love you, too.”
His eyes lit up, and his hands moved around her, pressing her to his chest. They clung to each other in the heated morning sunshine, feeling reborn in love. Today was a new day, a start of their forevers. They allowed themselves to bathe in the moment. To soak it in.
“Roland, promise me that we’ll always be together.”
“Why would you say that? Of course we will.”
“No matter what happens.”
He pulled away, and lifted her chin to his.
“Did something happen?”
She shook her head. “No. But I have the strangest feeling that something terrible is about to happen.”
“Why? Nothing is going to happen.”
“I know. But…” She squeezed herself to him again. “Just promise me, okay?”
“Yes, Jo. I promise.”
“Jo?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t like Marshall’s nickname. I figured you might like mine.”
“Jo. I kinda like
it. Ro and Jo.”
“Roland.”
“You don’t like Ro?”
“I’m not really a Ro.”
“You can be my Ro.”
His smile faded into something more serious. “I will be anything you want me to be, Joanna.”
She touched his nose. “Jo.”
“Jo.”
“I’m getting nauseous!” Marshall cried, sitting up in his bed.
Roland let out a hearty laugh. “Sorry. We were just getting better acquainted.”
“How about you two acquaint yourselves a little quieter next time? Some of us are trying to sleep. Or were trying to sleep.”
He stood and began stuffing his legs into his pants.
“Are you still taking me to my speech today?”
Joanna’s eyes widened. “Speech?”
Roland nodded. “I have a speech today.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last night, Marshall and I went out for a drink and there were these people at this table and they asked me to speak at their rally.”
“And you said yes?”
“Of course.”
Without consulting me?
She stuffed down her irritation and attempted to keep her voice even. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and let it out again. “I don’t know. You ever get that feeling that you have to do something, or else you’ll regret it for the rest of your life?”
Joanna hid a smile with her hand, remembering her thoughts from earlier. “I can imagine.”
“Well, it was like that.”
“What is the speech about?”
“Slavery and oppression.”
Something about those words struck a chord in Joanna’s heart.
Slavery? Oppression? I remember something about that. Something that I’ve done. Something I’ve seen. What was it?
“Where is the rally going to be?”
“I’m not really sure. Marshall is going to take me there.”
“Can I come and see your speech?”
“Do you want to?”
“I want to. I would love to see you.”
And move with you and walk with you and kiss you and…
Joanna thought with a grin.
“I would love to see you there,” Roland replied.
She smiled and held him close.
The door slammed shut, sending Marshall back into the hot city streets and leaving the lovers to the smiles, warm words, and laughter that came from new love.
~()~()~()~()~
Marshall guided the Venians through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd that had gathered at the rally.
“I hate the heat,” he muttered. “I hate crowds. Heat and crowds make for an angry day.”
The group passed by clusters of men bunched together on cement steps, whispering intently in the July heat. Most of them cradled beer bottles in their hands, taking a swig from time to time.
Roland’s eyes met Joanna’s in the glaring sun. She gave him courage as she walked with him, cradling his hand in hers. He hoped that his speech would make her proud.
Bailey had come by earlier and given him a suit to wear. A hot, itchy grey jacket, a matching grey vest, a pressed white shirt, and grey pants. He felt as if he were in the belly of an oven.
The nervousness built inside of him, turning his stomach.
Just breathe.
They finally found their way to the front of the crowd. A man with wild grey hair and a beard shouted enthusiastically from the stage. Roland swallowed hard, trying to keep the bile in his gut.
That man seems so confident up there. Will they see through me? Will they see my fear?
He looked to his left and saw Missy standing in the back, leaning against a pole, her dark skin glistening in the sunlight, her compact body swaying in agreeable rhythms. She would nod every now and again with the speaker and clap her hands.
The man finally finished his passionate speech and looked over the crowd.
“Well,” he said, his voice changing from one that demanded attention, to one that was light and almost boyish, “that’s enough of me yelling for one day.”
The crowd lightly bubbled with laughter.
“Our next speaker is new to our city. His name is Roland McAllen.”
Roland felt a painful twinge of fear going through his stomach. The collar of his shirt seemed to choke him. He pulled at it with his finger.
“Is Mr. McAllen here?” the man asked, looking through the thickness of the crowd.
“I’m here!” Roland cried, raising his hand.
Sweat pooled beneath his arm pits. Though the air was humid, his mouth went dry.
He took the wooden stairs slowly, one at a time. Each step made his heart pound against his ribs.
I can do this. I can do this.
He stood in front of the shoddily put together podium, paused, and stared out into the crowd. A rainbow of skin colors greeted him. Shades that went from deathly pale to nearly black stood together with one purpose. To listen. To learn. To grieve life’s injustice and to celebrate the unbreakable human spirt. They all were united by a single cause. Equality. Freedom. Hope. It gave Roland a sense of pride, and made adrenaline pump through his veins. He found Joanna’s face in the crowd and took a breath.
The crowd murmured. Waiting. Eager for his words.
He touched the rough wood of the podium and took another deep, hot breath. In the course of one second, he knew he had transformed. He stood straight and locked eyes with the crowd. All of the words that he wanted to say were standing at attention on his tongue.
“I was once a slave.”
Though his mind had managed to lose everything else, one crumb of information stayed with him. He was a slave. It was an indisputable fact. An unquestionable reality. The last remnant of his former life.
The crowd gasped and laughed anonymously.
“But I stand before you now, a free man. I have walked along the streets of this city for two days now. I have eaten at your tables. I have heard you speak. And, though I am a foreigner among you, I am not blind. Although you live together in this city, you are divided. Divided with borders made not of walls or gates, but of flesh. You are divided in your hearts. In your minds. You live in this place as brothers. You fight for this place in your wars. With your drafts. And, yet, you will not eat together because of the color of your skin. You will not come together, because you look down at your fellow man. You force some to serve as slaves and some to rule masters based on what? Based on the color of your flesh. But today I say to you that I would gladly switch my flesh with yours and bare your burden. Why? Because I am your brother. Because it is the right thing to do. Because it is the one act that will unite this broken family that you call America. Will you do the same? Will you take on your brother’s flesh? Will you take on his burden? Will you ease his pain by eating with him? Learning with him? Getting to know him as a human being and not as a color or a country? Look around you. Don’t just see a man, a woman, a color. See a brother. A sister. A mother. A father. A human being. See a product of the greatest force in the universe. Love. And then, when you finally see each other as a product of love, then you will know what true brotherhood is. You will no longer be divided by hate. You will no longer be conquered by divisions. You will be joyful and united in the awesome power of love.”
The crowd cried out, and the square was filled with joy as each one embraced his fellow. Black and white, rich and poor, men and women, all stood in the knowledge that they were all brothers and sisters.
“Tell us more!” someone cried.
“I only tell you what I know,” Roland said, clearing his throat.
“Well, that ain’t much!” someone shouted.
There were scattered murmurings in the crowd.
“Is that a friend or a foe that speaks?” Roland asked, shading his eyes with his hands.
“A friend who wants to tell you to GET OFF THE STAGE!” the voice cried.
Are those toward me, or toward the heckler? Roland wondered nervously.
He got his answer when he heard, “Somebody shut them up!” the crowd yelled.
“Abolition forever!”
“McAllen! McAllen! McAllen! McAllen!” they began to chant and cheer.
Roland raised one hand in the air, and the cheers grew louder. He scanned the crowd for the heckler once more, but didn’t see him. His eyes settled on Joanna, cheering for him and smiling. Ian was suddenly beside him, out of breath from running up the steps of the stage.
The crowd quieted again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we now adjourn this rally. Go in peace, brothers and sisters,” he slammed his hand on the podium like a gavel and it was done.
The cheering abated. The crowd turned and filed out of the square.
“Did I do something wrong?” Roland asked him.
“No,” Ian said, slapping one hand on his shoulder. “No. You did everything right.”
“Who was that in the crowd?”
“That was Patrick Butler and his cronies. I’m sure that today isn’t the last you’ll hear of him. He seems to get some sort of sick kick out of disrupting our rallies. But we’ll talk again later. I’ll meet you at Billy’s Bar tonight. We’ll have dinner.”
“Ian!” Missy was calling from the side of the stage.
Ian patted Roland’s shoulder again, before running back down the stairs and following Missy through the thinning crowd.
Roland looked through the sea of faces. Joanna, Marshall, Terra, Nic, and the children were making their way toward him. He descended the stairs, and began to pick his way through the crowd.
I’ve never felt so alive! Those people liked me. They listened to me, and they wanted more. I was born, and I died, on that stage today. Perhaps one day, I will be born again.
“Roland!”
That was followed seconds later by Joanna jumping on him, and encircling him in her arms.
“Oh, Roland. I’m so proud of you!”
“Where did you find the words?” Terra asked.
“I don’t know,” Roland replied. “They were just there.”
“I cried,” Terra said. “You moved me.”
“The crowd loved you!” Marshall exclaimed. “They were talking about you like you were the president or something. They were asking when you were going to speak again.”