Page 99 of Behind the Bars

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 nextmonth.

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 andall.

* * *

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 forothers.

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

“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 standup.

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

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 achair.

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

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 untilnow.

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

“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,” hemurmured.

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

“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 playagain.”

“Well, that’sokay.”

“What?”

“Music isn’teverything.”

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

“I said music isn’teverything.”

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

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 bedead.”

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’mokay.”

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 thesame.”

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 helpinghim.

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 joinme.

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 lookedaway.

“Sorry,” Imuttered.

“Sorry,” she replied. “I just rushed out of the house, notthinking.”

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

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