Page 30 of Behind the Bars

“What’s your favoritesong?”

My lips turned up. “‘Make You Feel My Love’,by Adele.Why?”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Noreason.”

We walked into my apartment building, leaving a trail of horse poop in our wake, but I didn’t care. My only concern was getting Elliott cleaned up. Once I unlocked the door, he stood in the foyer of the apartment, not moving an inch. I went to my mom’s room and grabbed some clothes I was certain would be five times too big for him, but it was better thannothing.

“Come on,” I told him, walking back into the living room area. He was still in the samespot.

“No. I don’t want to track this all over your place. It’s bad enough that it smells sobad.”

“Elliott, don’t worry. We’ll clean it up. Trust me. Comeon.”

I walked him to the bathroom, but he stood outside the door. “You can shower first,” he said. “I canwait.”

I smiled. Besides Ray, I had thought the idea of a gentleman was an urban legend. “It’s okay, I’ll use my mom’s shower in herbedroom.”

“Oh,okay.”

He walked in and closed the door behind him. I went into my room, grabbed a pair of pajamas, and then headed to the other shower. As the water hit my body, I couldn’t let go of the feeling Elliott left me with. He was exactly what I needed when I hadn’t even known I needed it, the light that lit the darkness I’d been walking in for solong.

Traveling so much meant I never had time to know what it felt like to belong. Elliott gave me that feeling, and I’d never be able to thank him enough forit.

After getting dressed, I walked into the living room to see Elliott in his oversized clothes, scrubbing the floor. “You don’t have to do that,” I toldhim.

He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Ido.”

I got down on my knees and started cleaning up the mess with him. “I’m really sorry about tonight. It was perfect, until itwasn’t.”

“Yeah. It’sokay.”

“It’s not,” I stated sternly. “It’s not okay what they did toyou.”

He shrugged. “I’m used toit.”

“Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean it’sokay.”

“In life, you have the nobodies and the somebodies,” he explained. “It just so happens I’m a nobody and Todd is a somebody, and somebodies are able to get away with treating the nobodies any way they want. It just is what itis.”

“You’re not a nobody,” I toldhim.

He smirked. “Says thesomebody.”

If only he knew how many times I’d been tolddifferently.

When we finished cleaning, we tossed the dirty clothes in the washer and sat on the sofa together. I grabbed two glasses of water, and we talked—about nothing and about everything, about each other, and about everyoneelse.

Talking was great when both people listened. I listened closely to each and every word Elliott said, and he did the same withme.

“Why jazz music?” I asked as we both lay facing opposite directions on the sofa, our heads beside one another and our legs hanging off eachend.

“Because it tells stories in such a unique way, and there are no mistakes in jazz, not really, only chances to make a misstepshine.”

“I likethat.”

He nodded. “Chet Atkins once said, ‘Do it again on the next verse, and people will think you meant it.’ And Miles Davis said, ‘When you hit a wrong note, it’s the next note that makes it good or bad.’ That’s my favorite thing. You get the chance to make bad moments seem perfect. I like that aboutit.”

“I’ve never listened to jazz,” I confessed. “I mean, notreally.”

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