❝ Still in peaceful dreams I see the road leads back to you ❞
Over the rumble of the bass and shout of the horns, Odella's mother's voice rang throughout her head. She could almost feel the burn of her mother's strike against the back of her neck as she stared at the man, mouth wide and eyes wider. Fix yo'self and close that mouth of yours, she'd say. Though it had been many moons since she felt the palm of her mother's hand, Odella instinctively brought a painted hand up to cover her gawking stare.
Stripped of the comfort of familiarity, the man entered through the double doors like the baby exits the mother, lost and blinded. Though she knew better, Odella couldn't find it within herself to peel her eyes from him as he attempted to slip into the dark corners of the club to no avail. He was as white as the North Star, with hair like wheat, as he tried to watch from afar, he found himself the center of attention.
Nearly six-foot, she thought as she watched him. Dark liquid began to circle against the rim of her glass daring to spill over the edges at the clank of her heels against the wooden floors. Her staccato rhythm slowed a pace but did not cease. With a whip of her neck, she finished her drink quickly and back to dancing she went.
Odella could feel the eyes of the men and women, young and old, pass through her body and land on him as he slivered through the small building. She watched as Atticus neared him. The leathered hands of a black man on his shoulder caught his attention.
Odella decided this was the time to interfere. As fast as she could in her heeled shoes and without making a scene, she began to the push through the crowd and over to the bar he sat at. Occupying the seat to his right, Atticus' hands took advantage of the endless air above him, swaying expressively as he spoke, doing more of the talking than his mouth. Odella walked with meaning towards the stools, for she knew it was only a matter of time before Atticus talked the white man straight through those barn doors he came through. She picked up speed, the image sharpening and growing in clarity with each step.
Her legs suddenly stop. As she stopped in her tracks, the outer soles of her shoes found the wood of the floorboards with a thump. Laughter. Deep belly laughter spilled from the bar, not just from Atticus but the white man himself. She hummed to herself impressed and continued to the stools.
Atticus suddenly turned, so sharply it spooked her. "Odella!" A drunken holler. "Come 'ere won't ya!"
She neared her summoner and took a seat next to the white man, furthest from Atticus.
The man turned to face her, and she smiled inside. He looked just as he did in the papers, no retouching needed. She could even argue he looked better out of the black and white papers, carved under the deep crimson shadows of the club lighting.
He outstretched his palm and she laid hers in his.
"Odella." She spoke.
"Robert."
His voice did not sound as she assumed it would. The recordings failed to prepare her for his thick English man's accent.
She nodded, "I know." How could she not.
He rose a brow and smiled. "Do you?"
She hummed, "I do, but they don't." She nodded her head back towards the center of the club. A few eyes still on the three but the rest scattered away having been caught staring. "They don't know who you are."
"Really?" He took in the crowd. "I thought I'd surely been clocked."
Odella looked over her shoulder once more at the gawking stares the crowd tried and failed to disguise. A pang of either shame or mirth, of which Odella could not tell shot up her stomach knowing she had been one of the gawkers.
"They not used to a white man coming down this way." Atticus chimed.
Robert turned back to Atticus, and Odella internally cursed him for reclaiming the man's attention. "I could assume why."
"They just worried s'all, some 'ah little curious and some 'ah little scared." Odella spoke. "They just wanna know you ain't lookin' for no trouble."
A scratch rang throughout the air as a mason jar left Atticus' fingers and slid over to Robert. Robert picked up the jar hesitantly, swirling the clear liquid under his nose to smell.
Robert's eyes found Odella's once more, he gave her look of which she fought hard to decipher under the duskiness of the club. She nodded towards him, swallowing the hesitancy that threatened to show across her face. She knew it smelled like straight gasoline. "Go on, show 'em you're here for the blues an' whiskey."
Without another command, Robert threw his head back with the glass. In a second, he came back down in a coughing fit, with sucked in cheeks and clenched eyes. "That's something serious!"
Atticus' body rippled with laughter as Robert spluttered, as did Odella's. Atticus slapped a heavy hand on Robert's back, forcing the cough out of him. "There you go son!"
Though her eyes never left Robert, she could just imagine the shoulders of the crowd loosening as he threw the whiskey. He had done well at shedding himself of a few curious stares.
"What business you got being in a black man's barrelhouse anyway?" Odella leaned into him, half-tipsy audacity and half to get away from Atticus' prying ears.
Robert shrugged. "You can hear the music from across the water. I was curious."
"Where's the rest of y'all?" She thought of the papers she saw them in, there were three more. "They not lost out back are they?"
A thick, burly laugh left him, similar to the one she heard with Atticus. "No, just me."
She whistled, schoolboy like, and tilted back in her barstool with a holler. "Real bold of you coming all the way down here with nobody!" Her laughter was contagious as Robert soon fell victim to it as well. "Though probably best. 'Ion think they can handle all four of you white men in here all at once."
"Probably not." He laughed though she could hear hesitancy in it. Robert's teeth found his lip as he stared at her, "Things are different overseas. If I had known, I wouldn't have--"
"It's not like that." Odella's painted hand found the air above them, hushing that thought before it could unravel any further. "They don't care 'bout it the way you're thinkin'. You just gotta prove yourself ya know."
He stayed silent, letting her continue. "We might stare but we ain't prejudice. 'Slong as they know you here for fun like the rest of us it'll be alright." She spoke.
He nodded, seeming to soak up her words of wisdom. "And how do I do that?"
"Show you're here for fun?" Her eyebrows rose and he nodded in confirmation. "Well, there's alotta ways."
He rose his brow at her, beckoning her to continue. "I'm listening."
Odella stuck out her hand to him. "Can you dance?"
Much to her delight and surprise Robert sat a hand in hers. She stared down at his hand for a moment, large with thin tufts of hair sprinkled along the hills of his knuckles. Warm and pink in the palm. She clasped hers around his tight and wasted no more time pulling him to the center of the makeshift dancefloor before he changed his mind and decided he'd rather flee.
Though no more than a handful of steps, the journey to the center of the club felt like a mile away. Odella could feel her mother's eyes on her again, like a presence on her shoulder - not in the physical but always watching. Her legs long and bare moved with a purpose, leaving behind an echo of her heels that disguised themselves between the melodies of the men on stage. Though she still felt the warmth of his palm in hers, it wasn't confirmation enough, and Odella turned back to see if Robert still followed behind her. Imagination rampant and vivid, she thought of Robert fading before her eyes and between her fingers. Only then did she understood the folly of man, for in this moment like Orpheus she too would have failed.
"I didn't think they were any more of these bluesy clubs left." His voice freed her from her thoughts.
Together they found a space to their satisfaction and like she had never stopped her feet picked up that rhythm they knew so well. "Ya know tides ah' really turning, most clubs don't really play soul music no more." She slowed down her rhythm for Robert, allowing him to observe the way she tapped her feet on the floorboards. "They's movin' towards funk up North, I heard."
Robert looked like a newborn calf to her, stumbling over his feet and learning his legs. It took Robert a few tries before finding a steady rhythm with her. He kept his head down with an eye on her fluttering strappy heels. Odella's free hand found the underside of his chin, beckoning his eyes back towards her. She took the opportunity to feel the coarse hair that grew in a W and met at the center of his pink thin lip. Her finger followed the path that diverged into two and split across his jaw. "Go 'head and keep your head down if you wanna fall."
She removed her hand and he obeyed.
He spoke, "I don't want to say soul is on its way out." Satisfied with the rhythm Robert found Odella let go of Robert's hand. "But funk is on its way in."
"The older folk can't stand it one bit." For a quick beat Odella ditched the stomping of her feet in favor of spinning in a circle with the help of Robert's hand.
"Oh really?" Robert's hand found the curve of Odella's waist and like he had stuck his foot out beneath her she stumbled over her feet at the touch before quickly regaining her footing.
Odella nodded. She snaked an arm around his neck, comfortable now that he could keep up with her. Up on the platform percussion began to speed up the tempo, the horns and piano man quick to follow. "They say y'all haven't got an original bone in yah body."
Robert laughed at that but didn't fight it. She laughed along with him and continued, "But I don't mind it," She turned away from him in thought, pressing her back against his chest. "I kind of like it actually."
"I do too. It's something new and fresh."
She hummed in agreement. "I think they just upset it's taking over soul. It's a pride thing you know, and we got alotta that down here."
Odella's feet ceased their movement, and her hips were quick to take over, rolling in rhythm against his own. Robert's hands found their way to her waist as she rocked against him. "There's room for both, I don't think the people want to be rid of Soul."
Odella relished in the heat and scent of him. Behind layers of perspiration, he smelt bright of lemongrass with traces of moonshine still lingering on his breath. She wished she could reach behind herself and lose her fingers within his curls but refrained. She bit the inside of her cheek. "I've heard your music. Y'all tryin' to bring the blues back?"
"I wouldn't say we're trying to bring anything back." He fought. Odella watched as Robert's fingers tickled down her frame and found the fullness of her hips once more. She allowed him to turn her to face him, finding him with a crooked smile. "We just play what we like to hear."
"I like what I hear." Her words come soft from her mouth just enough that it could've possibly gotten lost under the noise of the band. But Robert heard it. She knew this was dangerous territory she was waltzing on, the proximity and strategic choice of words, but she indulged in it anyway.
"I'm glad I've impressed you."
I've, a dangerous word, Odella thought. Not his band, but him in the singular.
His hands once again began to creep dangerously low, but this time did not stop at the hill of her hipbone. Odella waited for an urge to swat his hand away that never came. Under the duskiness of the crimson lights, screen of hookah smoke and shield of Robert's hair that fell over her shoulder in spirals she felt hidden from the judgment of God. A layer, thick with animalistic passion had unknowingly been created that even the eyes of her mother could not penetrate. On the dancefloor she would allow this transgression. "It means a lot to have to have the satisfaction of the origin land."
"I had my moments of doubt." Once more she looped both hands around his neck. "But you're doing well for yourselves."
His hands retreated from their dangerous spot and found an appropriate nook in the small of her back. The two slowed their rhythm to a standstill, out of breath. "It wasn't as easy as it looked, felt like forever for a while."
Odella thought of the word forever. It wasn't the word she'd use. She remembered the first time she saw their pictures in the papers and the first time she saw their records make it to shelves down south. Or the first time in many that she heard the name Led Zeppelin on the radio. Finally, she thought of Robert now and how he stood before her, bathed in the dusky glow of the club, no longer human to the rest of the world. But a god. A golden god, they say. It felt like yesterday.
"Last time I saw you, your hair didn't but touch your jaw. Now it's all the way here." She hummed, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "And you've got this beard now." She removed her hand to rub the coarseness of his beard.
He allowed her to pet him. "You've been to a show?"
"In the papers." She corrected.
"We're going to have to change that?"
"Are we?"
"We're a live band. It's not enough to listen to a recording."
"I don't think all that's necessary." She waved a hand in the air in opposition. "The recording told me all I need to hear."
"Good things I hope."
"Mhmm," Odella considered humbling him and keeping her compliments to a minimum but she changed her mind. He had earned his right to be praised. "Very good."
Odella found solace in the way he held her, swaying her gently to the rhythm of the bluesmen.
Robert spoke, "And which song told you that?"
She humored herself with a moment of silence even though there was no question to it. "Mama you've gotta go." She lowered her voice to match his and sang. For a moment she didn't know whether she was mocking or applauding him. "Boy you should've seen my face when I saw the track title."
Robert laughed. "Ballsy of us, innit?"
"Very," Odella laughed along with him. "I never had such low expectations."
"Ooh you're brutal."
"But I was wrong, very wrong." She softened. "It was amazing."
They sat there in silence for a moment, slowly rocking in the center of the club.
"You think it's working?" He whispered against the back of her ear. His breath was warm with traces of whiskey.
"Hmm?" She hummed but did not budge from her spot.
"Have I proved myself?"
It all came back to her now and she lifted her head, shocked at her fault to be so easily lost in the moment. "Depends?"
"On?"
"Well did yah find what you were looking for coming all the way down here? Or do yah need a bit more satisfyin'?"
"I'm going to need a little more blues and a lot more whiskey before I leave here tonight satisfied."
"Now that you mention it," A fight broke free on Odella's face despite her efforts to conceal it. "I think the people need a little more convincin'."
•
"And you make this walk every weekend?" Robert's voice echoed through the empty night.
Odella's chest glistened silver with sweat under the glow of the moon. She ran a hand through her hair that began to kink at the root, feeling the cool dampness of her scalp. Under the hypnosis of the music did she always fall so easily victim to her vices. That spell never fails to break with the gust of fresh air that comes spilling in with the moon light, the difference in air so jarring it always sent her straight to her knees to repent for her night of sin.
Tonight, she walked alongside Robert with a drunken stumble, trekking along a cobble path that had begun to be overtaken by tall grass and field flowers.
Despite the pebbles that pricked and stabbed at the softness of her feet, Odella saw it as the lesser of two evils than the pair of golden heels she held in her right hand.
"We ain't got much further to go." Her eyes found the buttons of Robert's chest, undone and revealing the sparsely spread hair littered across his chest. In a fleeting moment of sober clarity, her eyes found his. "I hope I'm not keeping yah from anything."
"It's just concerning is all."
"Well Atticus come with me sometimes." She shrugged. Atticus in all his glory came into her mind, the image of him stumbling out of the club a few hours before she and Robert would do the same a funny thought if not for the pain in her feet. She usually found herself tapping out an hour or so before Atticus ever felt a cramp in the leg, but tonight was different. Robert and Odella didn't step a foot outside until the early hours of the morning, accompanied by the band packing and lugging their instruments. "'Sides I don't usually stay out this late."
"No wonder your feet hurt."
Odella stared down at her feet, purple around the toes and achey, surprised to see they had not been worn down to a nub. She shook her head with a whine. "You've bout danced my feet clean off. I'll be lucky if I make it to my porch."
"You want a lift?"
The sound of Robert's footsteps beside her ceased and she turned to find him paused at the side of the path. The throbbing pain in her feet almost seemed to hurt more in the absence of walking.
She thought about how she looked, barefoot alongside a white man at this time of night. The thought of the declining passed her mind but the pain in her soles swallowed any and all pride.
She neared him and looped her arms around the backside of his shoulders, hoisting herself up on his back. The fat of her cheek squished against his shoulder as she rested her head on him.
"Lord, I won't drink anotha' drop again if you'll heal my feet."
"Del Del Del." Robert hummed. She liked the way it sounded. "Don't busy the Lord with promises you have no intentions on keeping."
"You ain't gotta clue how serious I am right now." She moaned though she knew he was right.
They continued on the rest of their journey mostly silent aside from a direction or two from Odella here and there. Up the winding path they traversed until they reached her house.
Robert carried her up the steps before resting to sit on the porch. Odella reluctantly slid off into a sitting position but kept ahold of his shirt, her face still nestled into the fabric of his back.
"I don't take you as the type to invite me inside."
"Smart." She hummed. "Scandalous enough lettin' you walk me home at this hour."
She could feel him shake his head from her place in his back. "How will you ever show your face Sunday morning?"
"I dunno, they'll have a field day with me for sure."
"Oh definitely."
"I'll go in disguise."
"As long as you're there aye?"
"As long as I'm there," She echoed behind a laugh. "Only God can judge me."
That comfortable silence that seemed to gravitate towards them found them once again. Odella ditched Robert's shirt for a view of the sky. Glimmering triumphantly and doing its best to light up the empty countryside. Aside from the hum of the cicadas, the night welcomed them with a tranquil stillness, something she desperately accepted.
"I guess I better start walking then."
"I guess." She didn't feel ready to leave him just yet, but she was tired. "You'll get back to your people fine, won't you?"
"I'll find my way." He turned to face her. His smile contrasted his blue eyes rimmed red and heavy with exhaustion. "I had a great evening. Thank you, Del."
She nodded. Much to her dismay, he stayed true to his word and stood from the porch.
She watched him for a bit from her spot on the steps, her shoulders weighed with dejection as he retraced his steps down the cobble path. "Robert." She called into the empty night. She thought he was too far to hear but as always, he did, stopping and turning at her voice. "I've got room."
He shook his head with laughter. "I intend on upkeeping your image. Can't have you missing church on Sunday, can we?"
She smiled tiredly, holding her balled fist to her mouth. "No, we can't."
"Goodbye Del."
"Goodbye Robert."
all roads lead back to you - robert plant
part i