“SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… BRADDOCK CAN’T rouse himself. He’s out cold from the Brown Bomber’s thunderous right punch!”
I’m wishing on Joe, talking to Daddy and Ma quietly in my mind.
Shake on a promise.
All of me is more jittery than a croaker from a pond springing to the finish line in a frog-jumping contest.
Before the count even gets to ten, I take Hibernia by both her hands, and we’re off that kitchen bench fast as jackrabbits. She’s doing a jig step, showing me how to be her partner.
“Joe Louis has scored a devastating knockout over Jimmy Braddock to win the heavyweight championship of the world!”
Hibernia’s daddy stomps his iron foot. “Hoooeeee!”
Outside, hollers fill up the night with folks in the street and on the rooftops calling, “Joe! Joe! Joe!”
Pots and pans rattle and clank, playing the music of victory.
Willie makes the chant his own. “My Joe! My Joe!” His fists punch at the place above his head.
We are all hugging and laughing and doing a ring-around-the-rosy dance. Bird is frisking at the center of our circle. And I swear that cat’s tiny lips are pressed into a kitty grin.
I look to see if I’m still stepping on the floor. Or are my feet riding on some kind of joy-wind?
I wrap my hand over Hibernia’s. “Let me hold that for you,” I say. Hibernia presses her hand in mine, gentle and firm at the same time.
I wish Daddy and Ma were here to dance and ride with me. I try to swallow back the hard spot at the base of my throat, but it’s stronger than I am.
Lila’s eyes are wet. So are Willie’s and his ma’s, and Hibernia’s, too. And the reverend, he’s wiping at his eyes with the back of his big hand.
Everything’s mixed up and blurry from happy crying that won’t quit. But I am clear on knowing one thing. There’s no more yesterday. There isn’t even tomorrow. All I have is now. Here. With Lila, Willie and his ma, Bird, Hibernia Lee Tyson, her daddy, and two radios.
And Joe Louis. The Brown Bomber. Giving us brightness and hope.
We settle at the table.
Hibernia pours the last of the lemonade.
Willie serves more of his ma’s hash.
I say a riddle.
“What makes you feel strong and weak at the same time?”
Lila says, “Love.”