Beale Street. Lights. People. Jackson should have felt at home. Memphis was a city to be sure. But it wasn’t as big nor as busy as he remembered when he was younger. Over the years he’d been to so many cities. None, however, were as grand as the first city he’d ever been to: Memphis. He could still remember the smell of the spring air and the feel of Granddad’s hand around his as they walked down the street. So it surprised him when his heart and body weren’t filled with their usual air of excitement as he ambled down the familiar street. He straggled behind the group of friends as they made their way from the parking garage to their destination. One of the guys held open the door for him. Jackson didn’t remember his name, but his face was familiar. He suddenly felt really old.“Welcome to the land of dreams,” Juan proclaimed opening his hands before him, then draping one arm around Jackson’s neck. The other guys chuckled and made a beeline for a set of booths in the back corner of the building. “Anything you want tonight is on me Jack.”
Soft lips revealed a pair of nearly perfect teeth. “Yeah, thanks Juan. I’ll remember that.” Juan laughed and left Jackson’s side to join the others.
“Granddad,” he asked popping a finger out of his mouth and wiping it on a napkin. It joined an ever increasing pile of similar napkins in the middle of the table.
“Yes,” Granddad asked placing his bottle on the table and looking at the boy for a second, then turning back towards the stage.
“I like it here.” His cheeks bunched up as he smiled around the fried poultry.
Granddad nodded in agreement. “I know. I liked it when I was your age too.”
Wide eyed in surprise Jackson replied, “You did!?”
A French fry flew across the table hitting the young boy in the shoulder. “Of course Jack. What’s not to like? Food, music, pretty ladies.” Granddad wiggled his eyebrows.
“Ew, Granddad!”
“Believe it or not Jack, one day you will like girls. A lot. And you’ll be wishing you had listened to all the advice your great ole Granddad gave you.”
Jackson bit into his remaining chicken leg and turned towards the stage with a new sense of interest. “I guess I will one day. But can we just talk about music instead?”
Not really ready to meet up with Juan and the rest of his revelry, Jackson walked through the general dining area to the crowded bar. He easily hoisted himself up onto one of the bar stools. Leaning against the dark wood, he scratched his forehead in thought. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw the bartender making his way towards him so he sat up a little straighter, prepared to make his order.
But before him stood a girl, no-a woman, with familiar eyes. Her outfit mirrored his own, except hers had a large green apron across the waist. “Libby?”
“What’ll it be Jack?”
“Libby!” He repeated still stunned. A smile he hadn’t felt in a long time graced his face.
She crunched the longnecks in her hands into the ice cooler in front of her. “Aware, thank you. Are you going to ask for something or just take up space for paying customers?”
“Last time I saw you-”
“Look Jack,” she interrupted rubbing her own forehead with the back of her arm. A bottle opener flashed in her hand as lights from somewhere deeper in the building began flashing. Jackson noticed she looked even more tired than he felt. “If you wanna reminisce and shit, call me. It’s busy in here, ok? I have to work.”
“Coors,” he offered.
Libby nodded and reached around for a chilled glass. “Like father, like son, huh,” she asked pulling on the tap. An overwhelming sense of homesickness hit him suddenly. He was in Tennessee drinking a Coors with Libby. Jackson took the glass she offered and put down a twenty. “Keep it Jack.”
“No,” he said pushing it further along the counter towards her, “it’s busy. You’re working.”
“Granddad.” The high pitched voice of a child’s whine sang through the entire house.
“Yes,” Granddad gritted out. The boy flung himself at the knees of the older man and latched on.
“I found you.” He laughed and looked up past the olden man’s knees.
“I told you I was working today Jack. You promised you would be quiet while Granddad worked. If you want to make noise and goof around I’ll call Abb and he can come and get you.”
Jackson pouted and refused to let go of Granddad’s leg. “I was good Granddad. You work all day.”
“I warned you,” Granddad said successfully pulling Jackson off his leg and placing the small body on the counter of the desk before him. “So? What is it going to be?”
Jackson fidgeted with his fingers and sighed, “Break time?”
“Oh my GOSH! Oh my GOSH.”
A scream from a single feminine voice rocked Jackson back from his memory. Jackson took a deeper sip of his drink and prepared for the worst. Plastering a fake smile like none other he turned on his stool in the direction of the screeching.
“Jackson?” Oh shit! Jackson swallowed hard. Seeing Juan and the guys from high school, even Libby, was one thing. But he hadn’t been expecting to see others too.
“Hey Karen,” he managed. It had been years since he’d seen her. Her face looked worn. She had the same deep brown eyes that he remembered and as far as he could tell she was wearing the same shade of lipstick. His ears started to warm and tinge pink when he began to remember.
“Granddad?” This was serious.
“Yes?”
“How-I mean, when, should-” He couldn’t believe he was asking this.
“You’ll know Jackson,” he answered without having to hear the question. He handed the teenager a piece of his Hershey bar and continued. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you’ll know for sure. You could be wrong. I’ve been wrong. But what I can tell you is that if everything is what you think it is, if you have that feeling deep in your gut that tells you that no matter what choice you make you’ll still feel that way, if all you can think about and dream about is her, then you have no choice. Be it wrong or right, you can’t help the way you feel.”
“But if I’m wrong-”
“Son,” he said clamping his hand on the curls of the younger person, “How can it be wrong, if it’s how you feel? Feelings can’t lie. You can misunderstand them from time to time, but whatever you feel, that’s real.”
“Thanks Granddad,” he replied, a small smile on his lips. He gave the elder man a hug and started to descend the stairs.
“Hey, Jackson,” Granddad called out. “Do not tell your mother about this.”
With a blush the younger man replied, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Would you look at you? What have you been doing? Your Momma never said you were coming to town.”
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Uh, it was a surprise. I’ve just been working, you know?”
She nodded and strands of slightly curled hair fell down from her ponytail. He tried to look anywhere but at her. He silently prayed for Juan to barge in. She however must have felt completely comfortable because she kept jabbering away asking Jackson questions he had no desire to answer. He kept them short and simple. He had to be polite at least. The more Karen talked, the more Jackson began to think. How is it that at one point in his life he would have given up anything to make Karen smile, and now he couldn’t wait to get away from her? He started thinking about the events that had sparked his return to Tennessee and if he would feel the same way in years to come. Feeling the muscles in his stomach clench he knew his answer: no. Never.
A gust of breath that Jackson didn’t know he’d been holding exploded when Juan threw an arm around Jackson’s neck. “What’s this? Rekindling old love flames Jack?”
Karen rolled her eyes and punched Juan’s arm. “You know I’m married Juan.”
Jackson’s eyes widened in shock. “Yeah? Congrats.”
She shook her head, “Oh yes. A little late Jack, but thanks.”
Juan pulled Jackson down to ruffle his hair then spoke. “Now, if you two are done, I need to get this city-boy country-wasted. I’m afraid his tolerance is below par.”
“It was good to see you Jack,” Karen offered patting a small hand on his bicep. “Come stop by while you’re in town. The kids love visitors.”
As Juan easily dragged Jackson away, Jackson whispered in shock, “Kids!?”
Slinging the taller man into a wooden chair against the wall, Juan answered while placing three shot glasses before him. “Apparently we are the only ones without a ball, chain, and dependents. Now drink up hearty my friend.”
“Granddad,” the toothy boy asked kicking a rock down the road in front of him.
“Yes,” Granddad asked hitting the same rock with his gym shoe as the pair approached it again.
“Why don’t I have a Daddy?”
Granddad’s steps faltered for a second in surprise. Jackson had never before asked him or his mother about their family situation. It was just the three of them and everyone was happy with it. “Why do you ask Jack?”
The green and red of Jackson’s windbreaker shrugged. “I dunno.”
“I think you should know why you want to know before I can explain. People will tell you a lot of things in your life, but until you know why it is important to know what you know, it won’t matter. And your Momma probably knows more about it than me pal.”
Blue eyes that matched the sky skimmed up the body of the taller man. “I guess. But you’ll tell me one day, right?”
Jackson’s heavy eyes roamed over the familiar pictures and other decorations. A heavy framed photograph of Granddad loomed high above a table three booth away. Beside him: Elvis.
His elbow was nudged by someone and without diverting his eyes Jackson took the newly filled glass and brought it to his lips. Only a second latter he was spitting it out all over the floor.
“What the hell is this?” He cried swinging around to address his friends. He realized the crowd was much bigger now. Several people that he recognized from high school but couldn’t quite remember their names were crowded around his booth. His heart rate picked up when he noticed several of them staring at him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Juan teased. Jackson knocked him upside the head and swiped the silver and brown bottle from Juans’ hands.
“Granddad,” the characteristically calm voice asked from the backseat of the car.
“Yes,” Granddad answered pulling down the visor to block out the setting sun as he drove.
“How do you-I mean, what if-I.”
Granddad tried not to smile as he turned his head towards the young boy. “Nervous Jack?” The wide eyes of the boy revealed the answer to his question. “Don’t worry Jack. You’ll do just fine.”
“But if I don’t everyone will notice and then-”
Granddad had finally pulled the car into a parking space in the elementary school parking lot. He threw an arm around the passenger seat, nearly missing Sadie’s head in the processes. Now facing his grandson he continued. “The best performers are never perfect. They just make mistakes look good.”
“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Sadie mumbled under her breath at him.
“Sure it is,” Granddad smiled pushing his door open, “besides Jack has nothing to worry about. Sally Hanson is standing in front of him and no one will see him anyway.”
“Granddad,” Jackson cried stopping in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk.
“What,” Granddad feigned innocence, “that’s what you said. You know, unless you’re too scared to tell Mrs. Clowd that you can’t see.”
Jackson puffed out his chest and pulled on the cuffs of his dress shirt like he’s seen Granddad do. “I’m not scared.”
“Good,” Granddad said swatting at his behind, “then let’s have a good show.” He held out his hand and Jackson bumped it with his own small one. Jackson’s blue eyes twinkled as he jogged down the sidewalk to catch up with his classmates
Jackson didn’t have a choice. Over three fourths of the people in the bar knew who he was, had watched him grow up, and were not going to let him get away with backing down from a dare. He was drunk enough to do it, but not drunk enough to not want to. Groaning, he stood. A chorus of cheers bustled out from behind the music playing.
“You’ll be fine,” Libby encouraged hooking up the microphone on the stage while Jackson waited off to the side. “They’re all plastered anyway.” Jackson looked out on the crowd nervously.
His large hands settled over Jackson’s smaller ones. With the ease of someone who had been playing for over half a century Granddad showed him where to put his fingers.
“This chord is called A.”
“A.” The tiny voice repeated.
He adjusted his fingers again. “This is D.”
“Granddad?”
“Yes?”
“What is this one called,” he asked shaking off the older man’s fingers and strumming the guitar with surprising ease.
Granddad was shocked, “Jackson! How’d you know how to do that?”
His childish shoulder shot up, then down, in a shrug. “I watched you.”
Jackson wasn’t sure if it was the memories, the overly greased food, the alcohol, or if maybe he was indeed getting sick, but the next thing he knew he was keeled over in the corner of the stage.
“Amature,” he heard a deep drunken voice boom from somewhere across the bar.
Even with his eyes closed he knew who the first form to approach him was. Peaking up he watched as she yelled orders across the room. Juan stumbled over to the stage and gripped the edge of it to pull himself up.
“I’m calling a cab.”
“Like hell, Libby,” Juan sputtered. He pulled on Jackson’s arm and helped the blonde up. “Jack’s fine. Don’t act like you’ve never had anyone throw up on your stage before.”
She rolled her eyes at him and nodded. “Yes, but not Jackson. He either goes home in a cab or stays in Memphis with me. Make your choice.” She started walking away, then paused and turned back to face the pair, “And Juan is not invited to stay.”
