Holding Hands

Ten-year-old Aiesha was so happy to go to school today. Today was the big day; she had been practicing all week. She stood in the mirror and was proud of what she saw. She smiled back at her reflection, knowing she would have the best-written story in her fifth-grade class. She imagined all the praise she would get from Mrs. Vandyke and the recommendation to speak at her upcoming graduation. This was better than last year’s story contest prize of twenty dollars, which she framed instead of spending. 

However, she had to admit that the African print look wasn’t really her style. But she wore its skirt with the split, puffy shoulder top and tall crown anyway because she knew that’s what her father would have wanted. Getting teased for being a “wanna-be African” today was worth the reward she knew she would receive in the end. 

It was finally her turn, and she walked to stand in front of the class. She couldn’t believe that Mrs. Vandyke had invited her favorite author back to their classroom, this time to listen to the children’s stories. Aiesha stood tall and proud, but not before smiling adorably at Brother Okoro, who sat beside her; he too was wearing a tall crown.

Just when she took in her first breath, the classroom door suddenly opened. Mrs. Donaldson and him. The boy from the split-class down the hall that sat both fourth and fifth graders. The only boy who made Aiesha nervous. Mrs. Donaldson figured James would appreciate listening to his peers’ stories instead of helping fourth graders with their reading assignments. James’ eyes found Aiesha’s quickly and never left. For the entire 7 minutes, James sat attentively as Aiesha told the story of two beautiful sisters from a village in West Africa who had to kiss an ugly snake, not knowing that he was really a prince.

The end of the day finally came. Aiesha couldn’t stand to hold down her lunch, so she skipped eating it. 2:00pm and the school bell rang for the announcement of the contest winner. James, who watched Aiesha from the back of the class sitting at her desk, squeezing her eyes tight and rubbing her hands, found an empty chair and pulled it up beside her. He put out his hand under her desk, and Aiesha stopped shaking as their small fingers intertwined. 

“I think your story was the best. "

Aiesha, to her surprise, didn’t win the contest that day, but received the recommendation from her teacher to speak at her fifth-grade graduation. Aiesha never stopped writing stories and speaking at events throughout middle and high school. She even started her own publishing company, publishing only children’s books, which received many awards and public recognition. She never saw the boy James again after graduation but thanked him too at the end of every speech.

So when Aiesha opened the email from her inquiries folder and saw that her old elementary school would be honored if she could come back to read to the children, she couldn’t have felt more accomplished. Walking back into her same classroom from 35 years ago, Aiesha couldn’t help but stand there for just a moment to see her 10-year-old self standing in what was now the back of the classroom. She also couldn’t help but feel like a giant sitting in what only now she realized were such tiny chairs. After she read her book, she then asked who would like to practice reading aloud in front of the class. A beautiful girl with wide eyes and a messy ponytail raised her hand, not shouting “Me, me, me”  like the other children. She chose her and gestured to her to stand beside her chair. 

Aiesha noticed the nervousness in the little girl as she closed her eyes tight while squeezing her hands. Just then, the classroom door opened, grabbing the girl’s attention. 

“Daaad” 

Aiesha couldn’t believe who she was seeing. 

“James?” her voice would barely let out a sound.

The little girl ran back over to her.

“Okay, I’m ready now. "

For the next 20 minutes, Aiesha called up child after child to read from a storybook in front of the class.

“I think your story was the best,” whispered the dad to his daughter. Aiesha smiled, and so did her heart.

When the book reading was done and the class was dismissed, the little girl pulled her father by the hand towards Aiesha. 

“Dad, I want you to meet my favorite author.”

“Hello favorite author, it is nice to finally meet you.”

Lost deep in her thoughts, Aiesha stumbled over the curb and almost dropped her phone in a drain next to her car.

“Aisha, are you sure you can drive? My goodness, it was just a book-reading to a bunch of 10-year-olds. Maybe you should get in the passenger seat?” 

“No, no, I can drive.”

“And I can’t believe you’re all flustered over that parent? I don’t get it. My goodness! I’ve known you for 30 years and never seen you so flattered. "

Aiesha balled her fist to punch her best friend in the arm. 

“Amina, you wouldn’t get it.  You would have just…had to be there.”