Sweet Soul

Elsie smiled and nodded her head. Lowering my hands, I clutched the jar to my chest and told her, “We’re just going across to the yard. Lexi has a craft shed out there.”

I saw Elsie’s head move back as if she was questioning what we were doing. I ran my hand through my hair and flicked my head in the direction of the door. “Come on, I’ll explain when we’re there.”

Turning, I walked out of the door, holding it open for Elsie to slip through. As soon as we stepped outside, a powerful rush of wind wrapped around us. Elsie laughed as the blast of wind blew through her hair. I stilled. I just had to pause just for one minute. She’d laughed. Elsie had laughed. She’d made a sound. It was a light soft sound, a sound just as pretty as she was.

As if realizing this too late, Elsie stopped laughing and her expression filled with sudden fear. I had no idea why she wouldn’t or couldn’t speak, but I could see that it worried her that I’d heard her soft laugh.

There was no reason she should have been embarrassed in front of me. I heard Elsie inhale deeply as I pointed toward the shed on the other side of the yard.

I opened the door, and switched on the light as soon as we were through. The wind slapped against the glass windows as I moved to the table in the center of the room. I placed the jar on top, and turned to see Elsie’s mouth slightly open as she admired the inside of the shed. ‘Shed’ wasn’t exactly the ideal word to describe this place. It was huge, a place where Lexi came to relax, a place where she brought Dante to play.

Elsie walked to the shelves which were filled with every material and craft item you could think of. She ran a hand lightly over the fabrics hanging on their rolls.

“Crazy, hey?” I said, pointing around the room when Elsie looked my way.

Elsie shrugged, then laid her hand over her heart. I studied the movement trying to understand what it meant, when she smiled and pointed at embroidered pictures hanging on a wall.

She liked the room. That was what she was trying to say.

Leaving her to explore, I took out what I needed and sat down on one of the wooden chairs at the round table in the center. As Elsie moved past the final shelf, she came over to where I was sitting and, hesitantly, stood by my side. Pulling out another wooden chair, I motioned for her to sit down.

Tucking a fallen piece of hair behind her ear, Elsie sat down and I watched with amusement as she studied what I’d laid out. Suddenly feeling pathetic, I shifted on my seat and admitted, “This is probably a real dumb idea.” I ran my hand down my face, just to do something with my hands, and said, “Lexi did it for Dante’s—my baby nephew’s—room a while back. It came to mind when you wrote about not liking the dark.” The more I looked at the damn jar and ribbon lying on the table, the more I was convinced this was a stupid idea.

Deciding to cut my losses, I shook my head and got to my feet. Elsie jumped as I did so and stared up at me, her doe eyes filled with questions. Rocking on my feet, I explained, “It’s a stupid idea, Elsie. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Elsie’s attention moved back to the table. I stayed rooted to the spot, my chest heaving in embarrassment, when Elsie blinked up at me again, her long lashes shadowing on her cheeks. How she looked in this moment bowled me over. Heat shot up my spine and I knew I’d remember that look for the rest of my life. If I could have captured her face in a photograph, glancing up at me like this, I’d be hanging it on my wall to stare at every night.

Dancing from foot to foot, needing to leave and forget my stupidity, I was about to walk toward the door, when I felt trembling fingers reach out to grip onto my arm. She tugged softly. I inhaled long and deep when I saw her pink lips mouth, “Please.”

Seeing this silent word grace her lips had me lowering myself back down on the small wooden seat by her side. Elsie smiled at me, then removed her hand. She pulled the too-long sleeves of my hoodie down to the middle of her palms and pointed to the jar.

She nodded her head in the direction of the clear glass jar and placed her hand over her heart. Taking another deep breath, though still feeling foolish, I explained why I’d brought her here.

Taking the jar in my hand, I moved it closer to us and asked, “You ever been to Alabama, Elsie?”

Elsie shook her head, but didn’t lose her concentration on the jar. “Well, in Bama it gets real hot.” I laughed a single laugh at the memory of the intense humidity. “I grew up in Bama, Elsie, in Tuscaloosa. We moved away when I was fifteen, five years ago now. Up until then, Bama was all I knew.” I lost focus on the jar, my eyes blurring at the memory of my childhood. I could feel Elsie’s eyes on me.

Coughing, I continued. “Anyway, like I said before, we didn’t grow up with all this.” I gestured to the room, and the house—everything. “We lived in a trailer in a real bad part of town.” My voice deepened, growing graveled. “There was me and my two brothers, Austin and Axel… and my mamma.” I swallowed down the lump building in my throat. As if sensing I needed the support just to think of my mamma, Elsie’s hand hovered above mine. My breathing paused as I waited expectantly for what she would do.  Then as controlled as she could, Elsie lay her hand on my arm, squeezing it just a fraction.

I wanted to lift my eyes to meet hers, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure I could cope with looking away from her hand. Strengthened by her touch, I spoke again. “I never knew my pop; he’d gone before I was old enough to remember him. But my mamma... my mamma was the best.” My lip hooked in a smirk. I surprised myself that I’d smiled remembering something good about my mamma, not how she was at the end.

“Like I said before, we couldn’t often afford electricity, so she would take us out to the woods near our trailer park,” I held the jar in the air, “and she’d fill the jar with lightning bugs.” I laughed and shook my head. “We’d fill as many jars as we could carry and put them all around our house. The bugs lived where we lived, so we had no problem catching them and keeping them for our light.”

My vision blurred on the jar as I became lost in the memory. It was like I could almost see those lit up bugs in my hand, as if I was stood in my old tiny room. “I hated the dark too. The stuff that happened outside our trailer wasn’t what a kid should see, so I needed light to sleep. And my mamma, she lit up the house like a Christmas tree with those jars.”