Page 96 of Behind the Bars

“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you tell me?” Laura hammeredhim.

“Because I knew you’d worry,” he replied. “You have so much on your plate, Laura. You don’t need to worry aboutme.”

“Now we’re definitely not leaving you alone,” she saidfirmly.

“There’s no way not to,” heargued.

“I can take nights,” a deep voice said, making us all turn to the front door. Elliott was standing in the foyer with his hands stuffed into hispockets.

TJ’s brows knitted. “What are you doinghere?”

I felt Elliott’s eyes dance across me before his stare met TJ’s. “I just got a job at a gym not too far away. The hours are eight to four, so I can be with you during theevenings.”

Laura’s eyes watered over, and she placed her hands against her heart. “You’ll help?” she asked, unsure how to fully grasp what her son wassaying.

“You’d do that for me?” TJ asked, seeming confused by Elliott’soffer.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The discomfort Elliott felt was apparent. Opening himself up was something he struggled with, and everyone standing in the room knew it. There was this battle we witnessed between Elliott and his soul each time he came near. It was as if he wanted to express his true self, but he feared opening up would bedamaging.

“You’d do the same for me,” he finally said. “You did do the same for me. When my d-dad walked out, you steppedin.”

Oh,Elliott…

TJ knew he couldn’t turn that offer down. It’d been years since Elliott had showed any kind of desire for connection, and he’d be a fool to shut himdown.

“I’m going to see if I can hang a p-punching bag on the tree in the backyard?” he said as aquestion.

“Okay, son.” TJ nodded, clearlystunned.

As Elliott walked away, the three of us followed him with our stares. Laura’s hand was still resting over her heart, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. “My son’shome.”

“Not yet,” TJ disagreed, shaking his head a little. “But he’s working onit.”

* * *

We gotTJ settled into his place, and Laura brought over a new walker to help him get around. It took a few days for us to get into the groove of caring for TJ, but over time, it became easier. The hardest part was watching him struggle to return to his normal self. TJ believed things would come back to him a lot easier than they were. Sometimes his mind was fogged, and he grew dizzy from time to time. Walking was tough for him, but the biggest pain to his heart was that he couldn’t play hismusic.

One afternoon, I found him standing over his saxophone, running his fingers alongit.

“You okay, TJ?” I asked, but he didn’t reply. I walked over to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “TJ.”

He shook his head back and forth, and when he looked at me, his eyes were heavy with sadness. “Yes?”

“Let’s get you to bed for a nap. You need rest. I’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up to get to work, but Elliott should be here to help you for the night. I’ll check on you after my night shift,okay?”

He nodded as we walked toward his room. He hated that I had to help him into his bed. He hated that he needed help at all. TJ was always the one to give help, not receive it, and I could tell this was a hard transition for him, but still, he said thank you, and still, he praised God. His belief in something greater than him when the days were dark was shocking. I wished we all could’ve been more like him in that way—hopeful, even when darknessroamed.

Once he was settled in, I went to work on cleaning the house. As I straightened up the living room before heading to work, I glanced out the window and saw Elliott standing across the street. His back was to me and his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he stared at the house in front of him, the house where he’d spent most of hischildhood.

I walked over to the front door and looked his way. People walked past him, but he didn’t move an inch, almost as if he didn’t see them atall.

“Elliott!” I hollered, stepping onto the porch. He didn’t turn around. I walked down the steps and hurried over toward him. It was as if he were frozen solid, unable to move at all. The closer I got, the more my stomach filled with nerves. “Eli,” I said softly, placing my hand on hisshoulder.

He jumped out of his skin, and when he turned my way, his eyes were glassed over with emotion. His feelings—his true feelings—were on display as he stood there studying the place he had once called his home. With one swift breath, he stepped backward. His glassy eyes changed back to his hardstare.

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