Sweet Soul (Sweet Home 4)

It was instantaneous, like the flick of a switch. The freedom with which she laughed vanished and just as quickly morphed into fear. I could see it written on her face, the fear. No, the terror, so clear in her expression as I listened to her laugh freely.

Elsie’s head fell forward and she tried to shuffle off my lap. I tightened my arms around her back and kept her in place.

“Don’t,” she sniffed, her pretty voice broken into pieces.

“No,” I said. “I wasn’t judging you, Elsie. Hell,” I sighed in frustration, “I was adoring you. Your laugh. How you make me feel. I was thinking real clear about the fact you were my girl. Damn prideful thinking how you were my beautiful, silent pretty girl.”

Elsie’s breathing hitched. She then breathed in and out eight times until she raised her head—I counted. Tears were tracking down her face, but she ignored the dampness on her skin to question, “Your… g-girl?” she asked, a nervous stutter in her voice.

“Yeah,” I rasped, feeling a weight in my stomach at the horror that she might just say no.

“Your girl?” she repeated. I sighed.

“My girl.”

I loosened my hold on her back, assuming she was saying no, that she didn’t want me like that, when she pressed her hand over her heart and nodded her head.

My blood heated and rushed through me, knowing exactly what that gesture meant. She was in this too. She was saying ‘yes’, yes to being my girl.

I kissed her again, but as the rain pelted harder on the roof of the warehouse, I pulled back to suggest, “We’d better get home.”

Elsie nodded her head and rose from my lap. I jumped to my feet, and quickly covered the sculptures with their sheets. Taking Elsie’s hand, I led her to the door and we made our way home.

By the time we got back, the place was in darkness. The whole drive home I kept hold of Elsie’s hand. Even now, as I walked her to the kitchen door in the backyard, I didn’t want to let her go.

Elsie turned to me and I leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. I couldn’t resist, not when she was looking this cute. Pulling back, I shuffled my feet, and said, “Thanks for coming with me today.”

Elsie shook her head. “No. Thank you for taking me. It was… I’ve never had a day like this in my life.”

Contentment surged through me and I stared down at our joined hands. “I don’t wanna let you go,” I rasped, feeling the usual blush spread across my face.

Elsie sighed. “Neither do I.”

I smiled, looking up with my head still lowered. Moving forward she kissed me, then backed away, releasing my hand. As she opened the door, I glanced up to her bedroom window. I smiled, noticing the homemade lightning bug jar still shining through the open curtains.

Seeing Elsie follow what had caught my attention, I pointed up and explained, “I look at that light every time I walk past your window. It tells me you’re there, up in your room. Safe.”

Elsie stared at the neon glow. “I refill it every night, just as you showed me. It helps me sleep. It keeps the nightmares at bay.”

“Then I’m real glad I showed you it,” I replied, and began to step back. I pointed to the pool house, and said, “I better get back. I’ll see you in safe.”

Elsie disappeared through the door to the main house. I walked back to the pool house feeling a huge sense of loss. I wanted her by my side. I wanted her to talk more. I just wanted to spend all of my time with Elsie, period. After years alone, it felt nice to have another by my side.

I opened my door, and left the curtains open. Elsie’s jar was visible from my bed. After brushing my teeth and changing into my sleep sweats, I climbed into bed, immediately searching for the jar’s glow… which had disappeared.

I sat bolt upright in bed, frowning at where the hell it’d gone. Then I spotted the light making its way through the backyard. My heart beat faster as the light neared my door.  Elsie slipped through. Shutting the door behind her, she held the little mason jar of light in her hands.

Her face flushed when her eyes landed on my bare torso. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

Cautiously, Elsie stepped forward, then again, to explain, “I didn’t want to be alone in my room when you were down here.” She edged closer, but stopped at the foot of the bed. The expression on her face had become serious. “I didn’t feel comfortable up there on my own. I wanted to be near you. But I didn’t… I haven’t… I don’t know if I can…”

I sighed, knowing what she was getting at. I held up my hands. “It’s alright, Elsie. I ain’t expecting that... from you.”

Elsie’s shoulders relaxed. She walked to the other side of my bed. She carefully placed the mason jar on the side table and sat down. Kicking off her shoes, she lay down, and turned to face me.

I lay on my pillow, facing her right back.

It felt strange having her in my bed, yet it was so welcomed. Elsie smiled shyly when I reached out to run my hand down her face. Elsie caught my hand and brought it to her chest. She had changed into her pajamas, and she looked so cute lying in front of me, right here, right now, just like this.

“Let’s sleep,” I said, and I turned off the lamp on my side of the bed. Elsie’s jar of course gave off its dull glow. I moved to face her once again.

I waited for Elsie to close her eyes and try to sleep. Instead, she whispered, “Yellow stars on the ceiling.”

“What?” I queried, not sure if I’d heard her correctly.

Elsie shifted on the bed, inching closer along her pillow and repeated, “The yellow stars on the ceiling that shine in the night.” She rolled on to her back and pointed at my ceiling. “One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.”

I wriggled closer until I could wrap my arm around her waist. Elsie’s blue eyes were shining in the glow of the light. She tilted her face to me. “We mostly lived on the street, but occasionally we would have a home. Sometimes my mom would gather enough money to rent a room for us somewhere, other times the men she…” Elsie’s expression fell. I held her tighter. She gripped my hand. “Sometimes… her men would give us somewhere to stay, to be safe.” A teardrop fell from her eyes, then she continued. “I never used to get anything for my birthday. Most years my mom would forget. But one year, we had a roof over our heads.” Elsie sighed. “I must have been about eight or nine. I came home and my mom had a small cake—it was round with pink frosting. My name was written across the top. I knew she had made it, or had at least written my name, because the pink writing was barely legible. My mom hadn’t had much of an education, but she’d written my name… for me. She tried, had pushed through her embarrassment… for me.”

My chest felt hollow as I imagined a young, poor Elsie, caring for her deaf drug-addicted mom. She smiled timidly, and I simply melted.

“She made me blow out a single candle, and then made me lie on the bed. I did as she asked, then she turned off the light. Resting in her arms, I looked up to see our shabby ceiling adorned with neon stars.” Elsie sniffed. “It was the one of the only birthday presents I have ever received.” She rolled on her side, her forehead almost touching mine. A stray tear traveled over her nose and splashed on to the mattress.