Behind the Bars

by Brittainy Cherry

  “It’s okay,” I told her, panicking as I noticed the blood on my fingers from where I’d touched the back of her head. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

  She started to shut her eyes, and I shook her.

  No…

  “St-stay here, Katie. Stay h-here.”

  “Eli,” Katie cried, pulling at my shirt. “Eli…Eli…E—”

  I shot up from TJ’s sofa, shaken awake from the dream that was too real. My body was drenched in sweat, my heart rate was through the roof, and I couldn’t pull back the image of Katie dying. She died again in my dream.

  She always died in my arms.

  “Eli,” a voice whispered, making me turn my head to the left. Jasmine was standing there with wide eyes filled with panic and worry. “You were shouting in your sleep.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head back and forth.

  She shifted around and gave me a tight smile. “I came back from work early tonight and realized I left my house keys here. You can head home if you want. I can stay the night.”

  I stood up from the sofa and glanced at the time. Midnight. “Okay.”

  “Are you…” she started, but she paused, knowing the answer.

  No.

  I wasn’t all right.

  I’d never be all right again.

  I headed to Daze. Jason was working behind the bar, and I sat down on a bar stool across from him. The moment he looked my way, he frowned and poured me a glass of whiskey on the rocks.

  “Nightmares?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Awake or sleeping?”

  I shot back the whiskey. “Both.”

  He poured me another glass. “Do you want to talk about it?” He always asked me that.

  “Nope.” I always replied that.

  He leaned forward against the bar and cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want to listen to me talk about my wedding and how we picked out the flower displays today?”

  I snickered and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”

  Jason got a goofy grin and pulled out his cell phone to show me photos, because of course he’d taken photos. “She wanted peonies and buttercups, but I was definitely much more old-fashioned and wanted roses, but not like, red roses, burnt orange roses, with some stephanotis tossed into the mix. I felt like those would read more November, autumn wedding than red roses. We ended up doing the best of both worlds and mixing them all together.” The way his face glowed with excitement was the best thing I’d seen in a long time.

  No one was more excited than Jason to become someone’s husband. Kelly was the luckiest girl in the world to have someone like him. Their wedding wasn’t until autumn of next year, but he and Kelly were already planning as if it were next month.

  As he continued talking about his wedding day, I was thankful for the break from reality he gave me. Sometimes all your soul needed to rest was whiskey, peonies, and a best friend who loved you, scars and all.

  As weeks went by, TJ had a harder and harder time adjusting to his new situation. He hadn’t meant to become so hard, but life was making it impossible for him to feel strong. He was always the one who cared for others.

  He didn’t have it in him to be cared for at all.

  “No, no, no!” I heard one evening at TJ’s, making him a snack. I hurried into his music room and found him on the floor, struggling to stand up.

  “TJ,” I muttered, rushing to his side to help.

  He waved me away, his face stern and grumpy. “No! Don’t touch me,” he said, trying to get himself up. He couldn’t do it, and I ignored his protests as I helped him to a chair.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him, confused as to why he was even in the music room.

  He shook his head. “I wanted to read music,” he told me. “I just wanted to read my music.” His walls were covered in music books from floor to ceiling, lesson plans he’d used on many students throughout his life, including me. It had been years since he’d taught music, but even when he had retired, he had still been able to play his own tunes—up until now.

  “You could’ve asked me to get them,” I told him.

  “I’m tired of asking people for help!” he barked, which was shocking. TJ was never one to yell. Scold, yes; yell, never. His eyes fell to his left hand, and I watched the shakiness that possessed it. His brows knit together and he sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I can’t play my music anymore,” he murmured.

  “Maybe with some physical therapy, you’ll get it back.”

  “I’m eighty-one years old and suffered a stroke, Elliott. I can’t even hold up the instrument.” He sounded completed defeated. “I’m never going to be able to play again.”

  “Well, that’s okay.”

  “What?”

  “Music isn’t everything.”

  TJ’s face turned slightly red. “What did you just say?”

  “I said music isn’t everything.”

  “Are you joking?” he asked me. “Music is the only thing.”

  There had once been a time I’d believed that, too.

  “You know what I see when I close my eyes?” he questioned, shutting his stare. “I see notes, bars, melodies, lyrics. I see music. When I breathe in, I think of jazz. When I breathe out, I crave it, and without being able to play my saxophone…without my music…” A tear rolled down his cheek, and I tried to ignore the way his emotions brought me discomfort. “Without my music, I might as well be dead.”

  I choked out a cough. “You don’t mean that. Look, I know it seems hard, but music isn’t everything. I used to play the sax then I gave it up, and I’m okay.”

  He opened his eyes and gave me a hard stare. “You had a choice to not play the saxophone. You chose to walk away from it. My music was ripped away from me, stolen away. You and I are not one and the same.”

  I lowered my head, feeling guilty at his pain, but I wasn’t certain what to say. He asked me to leave, and I did as he requested. As I walked out of the room, I listened to TJ start to sob uncontrollably. I wouldn’t be able to fix him, because I knew nothing about being fixed. All I knew was how to stay completely broken, so I reached out to a person who was better fit for helping him.

  The moment I called Jasmine, she was on her way. It was her day off and she was just sleeping at her house, so it didn’t take her long to arrive. She jumped into the first taxi she could get and was at the house in a flash. “Where is he?” she barked, her eyes wide with worry as she came into the living room to join me.

  My eyes danced down her body, noting the fact that her trench coat wasn’t tied. She glanced down at herself, noticing the fact that she was still in tiny shorts and a tight tank top with no bra, exposing her nipples through the fabric. She gasped, quickly tying the coat shut. Her cheeks turned red, and I looked away.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Sorry,” she replied. “I just rushed out of the house, not thinking.”

  “You can borrow some of my clothes if you’d like. I brought workout clothes but haven’t used them yet.”

  “That would be great,” she agreed.

  I headed off and grabbed the white tank top and black sweatpants. She took them and headed into the bathroom to toss them on. When she came out, a small smile formed on her face, and her smile forced my heart to beat. She looked beautiful. The clothes were way too big, totally ridiculous, and they looked absolutely perfect on her. The band of the sweatpants was rolled down multiple times to sit correctly on her waist, and my eyes moved to her hipbones, which poked out a small bit.

  Jesus…

  My gut twisted as I tore my stare away. “He’s in the mu-mu-music room,” I stuttered. “He’s been in there the whole time.”

  “Thanks,” she said, hurrying in to see him. She closed the door behind her, and I sat down on the sofa, waiting to make sure TJ would be okay.

  It took some time, but Jasmine ended up walking TJ to his bedroom and putting him to sleep. When she reemerged, I stood u
p from the sofa and stared her way.

  “He’s okay,” she told me. “He just had a small panic.”

  “I didn’t know what to do. He…” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Thanks for calling me.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Always. I can stay for the rest of the night if you want, since I’m here.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  We stood still for a moment, staring at one another, unable to look away. The right side of her mouth curved up, and the left side of mine did too until I realized what I was doing. Then it curved back down.

  She was in my head again.

  “Okay, well. goodbye, Jasmine.” I gathered my stuff to leave.

  She kept smiling. “Goodbye, Elliott.”

  I walked out the front door, and she followed behind me to lock up. Before I stepped off the porch, I turned to her and narrowed my eyes. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked.

  “He just feels worthless. His music gave him worth, a purpose, whatnot, and for that to be gone…he’s just lost.”

  “How did you c-comfort him? What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “I didn’t say a word. I just sat there with him.”

  “You didn’t say anything?”

  She shook her head. “No. Sometimes people don’t need words, Elliott. Sometimes they just need the space to feel what they need to feel, with someone present as a reminder that they’re not alone.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jasmine

  One night in late November, I sat behind the bars, listening to the music of Frenchmen Street after my shift at work. It still amazed me a bit how much it felt like home back there in those dirty areas. As I listened to the music of the bluegrass bar, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. When I sat behind those bars, I did the most overthinking I allowed myself to do. Ninety-eight percent of the time, I was perfect. I was happy and healthy, and my mind never went to dark places.

  But during those two percent, my mind did wander.

  Mama hadn’t called me once.

  Whenever I spoke to Ray, I’d ask him if she’d reached out to him, but the answer was always no. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The way she and I had left things had been rough, so it wasn’t shocking when I had no emails or messages from her at all.

  But still…

  If I had a daughter, I’d at least want to know she was safe.

  If I had a daughter, I’d do better than Mama.

  “Jasmine.”

  My eyes shot open at the sound of my name, and when I saw Elliott standing in front of me, my gut tightened. “What are you doing here? Oh my gosh, is it TJ? Is he all right?” I asked, hopping off the dumpster.

  “He’s fine. I had my mom stop by to stay with him for the night. He told me you come here after you’re done at work. I just…” His eyes shifted around in the alleyway, and his hands were in fists.

  Oh my God…

  “Eli, is this where it happened…?” I whispered.

  He shut his eyes for a second and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Have you been here since?”

  “No.”

  “What are you doing here? Are you okay? What’s going on?” I asked, rambling off questions, seeing the intensity of the moment for him. Sweat lined his forehead, and he grimaced.

  “I need your help.”

  “Anything,” I told him. “Anything you need.”

  “TJ’s lost, and I want to help him. He had a b-bad night tonight, and I need to do something. I can’t keep watching him be so broken.”

  “You came here…into this alleyway…because you’re worried about him?” I asked. He nodded. “Eli…why would you do that? I can only imagine how hard it is for you to be here.”

  “When we had no one, he stepped up. When we had nothing, he saved us.” His voice shook. “My father walked out, and TJ stepped in without q-question. When Katie…” He paused and swallowed hard. “When Katie died, TJ stayed and helped my mom when I ran away. He always saved us, and now he’s broken, and I want to help him.”

  “How can we do that? How can we help?”

  “H-he thinks his music died. We just need to prove to him that it didn’t.”

  “How?”

  He began to tell me his plan of action, and every word he spoke made my heart do cartwheels. Every idea he tossed out was perfect. In that moment, he was the sweet boy who stood up for me, for his sister, for his mother. Elliott was exactly what he’d always been—caring.

  “Do you think it will help?” he asked.

  “I think it will.”

  “Good,” he muttered. “Good, good. Okay, well, goodbye.” He started off, and my heart was in my throat.

  “Elliott, wait!”

  He turned around to face me. “What is it?”

  My mind blanked. There was a slight tremble in my body, and I rubbed my hand up and down my arm. “Never mind. Go ahead. Good night.”

  “What is it?” he asked again. I stepped forward and then back. My body was battling my mind, and he saw the struggle I was dealing with. He walked closer to me. “Jasmine?”

  In a flash, I leaped toward him and wrapped my arms around his body. I pulled him into a hug, and I was certain he’d push me away. I was invading his space, and everything I’d learned about him lately told me he wouldn’t appreciate it, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing where he was standing, knowing how hard it must’ve been for him to come back to that alleyway…I couldn’t not hold him. I couldn’t just let him walk away and feel alone. My hug was a reminder that he wasn’t alone out there. My hug was a safety net just in case he needed to fall.

  He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t hug me back. I could feel his sadness, his pain, his heart. I could only imagine how long he’d been drowning in his sadness.

  Then, out of nowhere, a miracle happened. His hands wrapped around my back, and he pulled me in closer to him. He allowed me to hold him, and he held me right back. He didn’t let me go, and that simple fact made me want to cry. Elliott Adams, the boy who hardly opened up to anyone anymore, was allowing me to get close to him. I held on so tightly to him, because I could tell how much he needed to be held that night.

  I was so thankful he held me back.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jasmine

  Winter moved into New Orleans quickly, and the cold weather swept through along with it. Elliott and I had spent the past few weeks working on his surprise for TJ, and it was all coming together so nicely. I’d have been lying if I’d said it wasn’t nice to be spending so much time with him, too. Even though we didn’t talk a lot, just being near him seemed like a treasure, seeing how he kept so many people far, far away.

  A week before Christmas, I sat bundled up in my pajamas, watching holiday movies alone, drinking hot cocoa. Mama had never made a big deal of holidays, and we used to work through most of them, so even though I was alone, it felt special to just sit and watch festive movies in reindeer pajamas.

  When the front door handle started wiggling around nine that night, I jumped out of my skin, turning around to see who was there. Instead of a person, I saw a tree.

  “What in the world…” I muttered before the tree was pushed farther into the apartment and a smiling Ray popped up from behind.

  “Merry Christmas, Snow White!” he hollered.

  “Oh my gosh! What are you doing here?” I rushed over to pull him into a hug.

  “It’s almost Christmas. Did you think I’d miss our first Christmas together?”

  I laughed. “You’re Jewish.”

  “Yeah, but decorating trees always sounded fun.” He lifted the tree and dragged it farther into the living room. “Also, side note, there’s about seven hundred dollars of decorations in the car and two more smaller trees for the dining room and kitchen.”

  “Seriously?” I smirked, my hands pressed to my chest in excitement. “A tree f
or the kitchen?”

  He shrugged. “For our first Christmas. We can tame things down next year.”

  “We’ll celebrate Hanukkah next year,” I told him.

  “How about next year we light the menorah and decorate the Christmas tree?”

  I smiled wide, nodding. “Deal.”

  We stayed up late, adorning the apartment and laughing with one another, singing every Christmas song under the sun. By the time we finished, it looked as if we were standing in the middle of the North Pole. We had pretty much nailed Christmas.

  “So, what do you think? You think I should try to cook a ham and a turkey for Christmas day?” Ray offered.

  “Good God, no.” I laughed, plopping down on the sofa. “I was actually thinking maybe we could have people over for dinner? Just a few friends, like TJ. He’s been through so much these past few weeks, and I know he’s feeling a bit down in the dumps, so I think a holiday dinner with loved ones could cheer him up, maybe.”

  “That sounds like a solid plan. I can still definitely help cook,” he started.

  “No, seriously—I don’t want anyone dying on my watch,” I joked.

  He threw a couch pillow at me, and I tossed it right back.

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  He smiled. “Me too.”

  The next morning when I arrived at TJ’s house, Elliott was standing on the front porch with a mug in his hand. “Black coffee,” he told me, handing it my way.

  I smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you. How’s he doing this morning? How was last night?”

  “He’s good. I put on a Miles Davis documentary for him to watch, and it seemed to ease his mind for a bit.”

  “Good.”

  “Well, I’ll see you,” he said as he started to leave.

  “Wait, random question—do you have plans for Christmas?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t really celebrate since Katie…” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Why?”

  “Oh, well, I was thinking it might be nice to host a dinner and invite you all over. Ray is back in town, and I figure you, your mom, and TJ could come over.”