by Seven Steps
“One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.”
My heart was pounding. My breathing labored. The force of the takeoff made my head press into the back of my seat.
“Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi. Seven Mississippi.”
We were airborne now. It felt like I was on a roller coaster going up to the first drop. I just hoped this roller coaster didn’t come back down.
“Ten Mississippi. Eleven Mississippi.”
My gut rolled, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Just a few more seconds. Please, God, don’t let this plane crash. Please.
“Thirteen Mississippi. Fourteen Mississippi.”
My hand warmed, but I was too frightened to look and see why. All I knew was I was a few seconds from knowing if I’d see tomorrow or not.
The plane made a bank to the right, then evened out just as I made it to twenty.
Twenty.
I was alive, and the plane was still intact.
I sucked in a breath and let it out again. I gave fate a few more seconds before I opened my eyes. My gaze immediately dropped to Joe’s hand on top of mine, squeezing it firmly, but not tight.
I looked into a pair of eyes that were already on me.
“You all right, Jelly Roll?”
I let out a breath.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“You looked like you were freaking out a little bit there.”
A little bit? I must’ve been hiding it well.
“Yeah. As it turns out, taking off is kind of terrifying.”
He shrugged. “I like it. Feels like I’m on a roller coaster right before the drop.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of what?”
“Of the drop?”
He shook his head. “Not too much. The dropping was always my favorite part.”
“So, you’re disappointed that we didn’t fall out of the sky?”
“Nah. I’m just not afraid of falling.”
A sarcastic remark formed on my tongue, but one look into those hazel eyes silenced it. There was something there that told me he wasn’t entirely talking about the plane. My cheeks heated, and I looked away.
I was used to guys who just wanted to have some fun with me and leave. There was never talk of falling in love. Those guys and I always knew what we were. A flash in a pan that would be over by the time the sun came up. I rarely went on any more than four dates with any guy.
But with Joe, something was different. I knew deep in my heart he was the kind of guy who lasted longer than four dates. He was the kind of guy who held on tight and never let go.
But was I that type of girl? Could I keep a guy’s attention for more than four dates or less? I wanted to be. I wanted a relationship. I wanted someone to stick around. But was it possible?
I shook my head and looked at the television.
This was pointless. Even if I wanted a relationship like that with Joe, the fact was it was not going to happen. Maybe we could’ve been something once, but, now, he was my tutor and cast mate. Not to mention my cousin’s best friend. Plus, I was on a boy ban. There was no room for romance there. I couldn’t allow my feelings to run away from me. That would ruin everything. And I didn’t want to risk not having Joe in my life. Even the thought of it was painful.
I slid my hand from his and placed it in my lap.
Just stay cool, Sophia, I reminded myself. Just stay cool.
The stewardess came around and gave us warm chocolate chip cookies and milk. We devoured the entire tray of delicious cookies in less than ten minutes. Then, Joe spied a shelf of games and, high on sugar and chocolate infused happiness, we played Monopoly for the rest of the trip.
Playing board games with people teaches you a lot, and I learned two important things playing Monopoly with Joe. First, he ruthlessly collected rents and properties and ran them like a slum lord. And, second, he could talk trash almost as good as I could.
By the time we stepped off the plane, the game was only half over, and I had thrown both a sneaker and several game pieces at my new opponent. Neither of them hit him, but it sure was fun.
We walked into the Thriving Rose nursing home and a thin man directed us to the room of one Ms. Susanna Walker.
Joe poked his head in first, then stepped into the room.
“Grams!”
Sitting in the bed under a thin sheet was a woman with long, thinning, white hair and hazel eyes that matched Joe’s. She seemed so at home. Like she’d always been here and the room grew up around her. Pictures of roses lined the cream walls, and fresh flowers sat in a clear vase next to her bed. A big photo of Grams surrounded by what I assumed were her children and grandchildren sat on a table across the room. I spied a mini version of Joe in the crowd of people. His hazel eyes and camo hat were unmistakable.
Grams’ eyes shined as she took in Joe’s smiling face.
“Is that my favorite Jojo?”
Joe kissed his grandmother’s pale cheek. “How ya’ feelin’?” he asked.
“The food stinks and the sheets itch, but I’m still alive.”
“Ain’t Ma been by to bring you something?” His Southern accent was much more pronounced than I’d ever heard it. Why did I find that so hot?
“They been by, but the staff started going on and on about my blood pressure and how the food wasn’t good for me and some old nonsense like that. I told them I was ninety-seven years old and I’m gonna eat what I wanna eat, but they got cotton in their ears or somethin’.”
Joe grinned. “Grams, you ain’t giving ’em a hard time, are ya’?”
“Ain’t nobody givin’ ’em a hard time. I just don’t want no old, funky mashed potatoes and bland chicken. I want some ribs.”
I nearly laughed out loud but covered my mouth at the last minute.
Joe held out his arm to me, and I stepped closer.
“Grams, this is Sophia Johnson.”
“Oh, Jojo. I remember changin’ yo’ diaper and now here you are introducin’ yo’ girlfriend to me.”
I waited for Joe to correct her, but he didn’t. Was he just going to gloss over the fact his grandmother called me his girlfriend? Maybe he hadn’t heard her? No, that was impossible. He was standing right there.
“Ya’ll come on and sit down here and tell me ’bout yo’ fancy new school and this pretty girl here.”
I blushed as Joe and I pulled two chairs to the side of Grams’ bed.
“School’s fine, Grams. I start in September.”
“September? Why’d you go so early if you don’t start till September?”
“I’m trying to settle in.”
“Settle in?” She smiled. “Go ’head on now. My grandbaby’s gonna be a big city football player.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her hazel eyes focused on me. “You’re from New York too?”
“New Orleans, ma’am.”
“Oh, so you’re a Southern girl?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned, so much like her grandson. “Well, it’s not Texas, but I’ll take it. How you doin’ in school, sugar?”
“Good, ma’am. Joe’s been tutoring me in my classes.”
She beamed at Joe. “Oh, my Jojo is smart. I told your mamma that you were smart as a whip.”
She turned her attention back to me.
“You know how ‘da cook?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can cook fried chicken, baked macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pie, collard greens. Whatever you can throw at me.”
“Well, you know, my Jojo’s got a big appetite. He gonna need somebody who can feed him more than eggs and cereal like the last girl he brought in here. Skinny little thing with a bad attitude. Ooh, I didn’t like her. She never looked me in the eye. Never trust a person who don’t look you in the eye. They up to something. Like I was telling—”
“Excuse me.” A nurse appeared in the doorway.
Grams’ eyes turned to fire. “Can’t you see I’m talking to my grandba
by?”
“Sorry, Sue, but it’s time for you to go out into the common room for some sunshine.”
Gram frowned and crossed her arms. “I don’t want to go out there. My grands are here. Besides, Gladys cheated me out of two dollars the other day and I ain’t going out there if she’s out there.”
The nurse smiled and walked over to pull back Grams’ covers. Grams’ legs were just as thin as the rest of her.
“Sorry. Rules are rules.”
Grams crossed her arms and squeezed her mouth into a frown. “I said I ain’t going out there if Gladys is there.”
The nurse held out her hand for Grams to grab onto. “Gladys ain’t paying you no mind. Besides, we have a special guest today.”
“Who?”
“David Wallace.”
“The karaoke man?”
The nurse smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oooh, why didn’t you say that before? Hand me my walker.”
“Who’s the karaoke man?” Joe asked.
Grams smiled. “Oh, he comes here with his microphone and his stereo and we dance and sing for hours. Then they serve sugar free chocolate cake. The cake tastes like cardboard, but it’s better than nothin’.”
The woman was so frail I was afraid she’d fall apart trying to stand up. But, somehow, she snatched the walker from the nurse and stood.
“I told you I could get out of bed just fine,” she snapped. “Now come on, babies. If we don’t hurry, we won’t get a good spot on the list.”
“List? What list?” I looked at Josiah, but he was already up, helping his grandmother to the door. I stood and followed them.
A morning listening to old people sing karaoke. I hadn’t expected this, but it did sound fun. I imagined she’d sing oldies from the twenties or thirties. Stuff I would’ve heard in old cartoons or commercials.
Boy was I wrong.
Joe and Grams put their names on a white sheet of paper attached to a clipboard, then we found a seat around a silver karaoke machine and watched an older man with a cowboy hat wheel himself next to it.
He sang Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk” while bobbing his shoulders. It was definitely a sight. The sort of thing I expected to see in a viral video. We all clapped and cheered when he finished.
The next woman walked up the stand and sang “Tossin’ and Turnin’” by Bobby Lewis.
Grams sang along loudest of all.
Another woman with one leg and short, brown, curly hair that was obviously a wig sang Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” so soulfully that, if I closed my eyes, I would have sworn it was Aretha Franklin herself. In the middle of the song, her wig fell off. She didn’t even flinch. She just snatched it off the floor and threw it into the crowd and kept singing. Someone in the back caught it and whipped it around like a lasso.
That was one fearless lady. I hoped some of that rubbed off on me.
Next was Grams, who, with Joe’s help, shuffled her walker to the stage area and sang “You Light Up My Life” by Debbie Boone. She wasn’t very good, and she forgot a few lyrics, but the way she swayed and smiled showed just how much she enjoyed herself. And I enjoyed watching her. Grams was the definition of a spitfire.
Joe was next.
I grinned while he walked to the mic and picked a song.
I didn’t even know Joe could sing. The most I’d heard him sing was the Thundercats theme song, and he wasn’t very good at it.
The music to Elvis Presley’s “Jailhouse Rock” started to play and everyone screamed in joy for two minutes and thirty-five seconds while Joe wiggled his hips and performed the classic Elvis tune. He was a terrible singer, but by the way he danced around the stage, and with the patients, you would have thought he was The King himself.
When he finished, he bowed to a thunderous applause, and I stood up and shouted for him.
It took a lot of confidence to get up in front of a crowd of people and perform, no matter what your skill level was and, I had to give it to him, Joe had confidence by the bucketful.
When the applause had died down, he came and sat between Grams and me again. I wrapped one arm around his shoulder, and he leaned his head against mine.
“That was phenomenal,” I said.
“Really? You think so?” He scrunched his nose.
“Yeah. You were amazing. I’d pay to see that again.”
“I guess I’ll print up tickets then.”
I beamed at him, and he smiled back.
There was something about his smile that held me. Maybe it was the confidence and light that I saw there. Joe carried himself with a pride and self-assurance I’d never seen before. It was… sexy. He was sexy.
“And now.” David Wallace, a middle-aged man with small glasses and thinning black hair, held his clipboard close to his face. “Sophia Johnson.”
My head whipped toward him. “What? I didn’t sign up.”
David squinted at me in confusion, then shook the clipboard in my direction. I looked at Joe and, by the guilt on his face, I understood exactly what had happened.
“We’re all doing it,” Joe admitted. “I figured you’d want to join in the fun.”
“I can’t sing in front of people,” I hissed.
“Why not?” Grams asked.
I looked from her, to Joe, and back again. “The last time I sang in front of people, I ended up crying on stage and everyone laughed at me.”
Her brows pressed together.
Then she scoffed, as if I was being ridiculous.
“Get on up there, girl. This is just for fun. Ain’t nobody gonna laugh at you here.”
“But—”
“Go ’head and get on up there, now. We’re too old to wait for you.”
The side of me that was raised by a Southern mother jumped up, while the side of me that was still traumatized by the Spring Fling contemplated running out of the nursing home screaming.
I stood in front of the mic, staring down at the karaoke screen with its list of songs.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sing in front of people.
I’d be humiliated.
Though it was comfortably cool in the room, sweat broke out along my hairline. My back. My palms.
Dozens of eyes stared at me, waiting for me to entertain them. But all I saw were the eyes of the kids in my school. Laughing at me as I broke down on stage.
A tremble powered through me and my gut rolled.
I couldn’t do this.
Not again.
Joe walked up next to me. He crouched down, selected something from the screen, and stood back up.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“I can’t. I literally cannot.”
“You’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes on me.”
The opening cords to Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” rang out from the karaoke machine.
“Joe.”
“Soph. You can do this.”
I frowned, trying to figure out how I could do this without vomiting, when Joe started to sing. Or do what he interpreted singing to be.
He kept his eyes on me, singing and smiling and dancing so goofily that I couldn’t help but laugh. His confidence was contagious, and my tension and fears began to melt away.
When the second verse came up, he stood close to me and handed me the mic and, for the first time in weeks, I heard lyrics leave my mouth.
I was singing. Into a microphone. In front of other people. I kept my eyes on Joe the whole time. His encouraging smile lifted my spirits and chased away my fears. By the time the last chorus came up, I was shimmying and two stepping alongside him.
The applause that rang out from the audience alerted me that the song was over. I’d had so much fun that I could have done ten more songs without a second thought.
Joe grabbed my hand and together we bowed. Then, he pulled me into a hug.
“You did it! I knew you could.”
I hugged him back, squeezing him tightly.
The hug ended too quickly as he took my han
d and led me back to our seat. I was dazed. Not only from my performance but from Joe’s body heat, which lingered long after his body was gone. I wanted to hug him again. To press him to me and keep him there.
I buried the wayward thoughts.
Joe and I were friends.
Good friends.
That was it.
Still, he didn’t let go of my hand as we sat back in our seats.
“Oh, that was better than when Thaddeus tried to do the electric slide and broke a hip!” Grams cried. “You two gotta come back next month and do it again.” She rubbed Joe’s back. “I’m so proud of you, Jojo.” She smiled warmly at me. “You too.”
“Ya’ll better take that act on the road,” someone said from behind me, patting me on the shoulders. “Make some money off that.”
We soaked up the accolades with humble thanks. There was something amazing about older people telling me I’d done something good. It warmed my heart and made me feel like I’d really accomplished something. After all, these were people who existed before television or the Internet. They’d seen dynasties rise and fall and powerful men come and go. They’d lived through and fought in wars and raised children. They were a tough audience to impress and yet they liked me. They really liked me.
Maybe I wasn’t so bad after all.
We stayed for another hour, watching the rest of the patients take center stage behind the karaoke machine, one by one, until, finally, it was lunchtime.
“Ya’ll ain’t going to stay for some cake?” Grams asked.
“Sorry, Grams. We can’t. We have lunch reservations,” Joe said. “Then, we gotta head back.”
Her brows squeezed, and her hands gripped Joe’s. “I understand, Jojo. Thank you for coming to see me. I’m gonna give your mama a big kiss and a hug when I see her this afternoon.”
Joe’s eyes went wide. “Mama’s coming this afternoon?”
She paused, her brows lifting. “Your mama doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
Grams sighed, then considered Joe. “If my grandbaby wants to sneak out and see me, then I think that’s between him and me.” She hugged him tight. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll be back soon, Grams.”
“You better.” She let go of Joe and opened her arms to me. “Come here, baby. You get a hug too for coming with him and entertaining us with that nice voice of yours.”