Sweet Soul
Page 45“I couldn’t,” I whispered, frozen with fear merely at the thought of opening my mouth for people to hear my voice.
Never mind my poems, which also caused me anxiety at sharing my words. But the thought of people hearing my voice, at opening myself up to that kind of ridicule, to hear their cutting words, their laughter and wickedness…
“Shh,” Levi soothed, pulling me back to lie against the couch. He cradled my head against his chest. I wrapped my arm around his waist and forced myself to calm down.
Levi ran his fingers through my hair, and said, “You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want. I just wanted to show you this place.” He swallowed hard and said, “It’s your passion from what I can tell. I wanted to show you that there were people like you, people who can make magic from words too.”
And with his words, my heart fell over the precipice it had been balancing on since meeting this boy. I tipped my head to look at Levi. I wanted to say so much. I wanted to express how he made me feel, how he made me feel with what he said to me—so kind and so pure—but I couldn’t find the words. My words were stolen the minute I wanted to express my feelings.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a woman, looking to be in her mid-thirties, took to the stage. The coffee house fell to a hush, and the woman closed her eyes, her voice powerful, but not as powerful as her words.
“Who am I? The girl on the street. Who am I? The subhuman at your feet…” The more the woman spoke, every sentence laced in hurt and pain, I felt like I had been physically punched in my gut. Levi, clearly sensing it, held me closer, kissing my head when my tears fell.
I listened for an hour to what could have been my life. This woman had had no home. She had been ignored, but more than that, more poignant to me, she had experienced what I had too. She had felt the slap of harsh words. She had been the target of cruelness… she understood. She understood what it was like to be ripped into by people, like those girls that had torn me to shreds, that had whittled me down until I was nothing but a shell… who poisoned my world until it became a world I didn’t want to live in anymore.
I knew Levi had brought me to see her because of how she had brought herself from the dark and empty streets of being homeless. He couldn’t know this too had been my past. He couldn’t know how close I came to the brink of letting their cruelty consume me completely.
With trembling hands, I took it from him and read the title—‘Trials’. It was by Sarah Carol, the woman we’d just listened to. “Happy birthday, Elsie,” he added lovingly.
“Levi,” I whispered in response, a lump clogging my throat. I swallowed, but managed to say, “You… you gifted me words?”
Levi shrugged, nervously raking his fingers through his hair. “You have them in you, in your heart, even if you don’t like saying them aloud. Though you’ve shared them with me. I thought I’d return the gesture.”
I couldn’t stop them if I tried, the tears building in my eyes. I didn’t let them fall. I blinked them away. Leaning forward, I kissed Levi’s unshaven cheek. I couldn’t speak right now. Levi smiled and pointed at the stage.
“She’s signing them, Elsie.” I followed his hand, but shook my head.
“I couldn’t, I couldn’t ask…”
“I’ll get it signed if you want?”My head tilted to the side, and I said, “You don’t like speaking to strangers either.”
Levi took my book from my hand and got to his feet. I quickly stood beside him, slipping my arm around his waist. Levi glanced down, and I said, “So you’re not alone for this too.”
His gray eyes filled with an emotion I wasn’t sure I was ready for, but he didn’t say anything, instead he led me toward the poet with his arm around my shoulders. We waited in line until it was our turn.
The poet smiled, and I dropped my eyes. “You enjoy the reading?” she asked.
Levi cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
I could feel the woman’s eyes on me, when she asked, “So, which of you likes the poetry?”
Levi squeezed me tighter, and replied, “My girl, Elsie. She writes too.”
Nerves accosted my body. I heard the woman scribble her signature on the page, when Levi said, “She’s kinda shy. She don’t speak all that much.”
I glanced up and the woman met my gaze. “I used to be the same, but I found the strength to express my voice through my words. That and by the woman I fell in love with.” I already knew she was bullied for being gay, made homeless for being gay, so her words were no surprise. In fact, they were like a balm to me. Because she’d been healed.
I stared at the poet, and shyly smiled. Reaching behind her she gave me a black booklet, and said, “Here, for when inspiration strikes.”
I took the black blank notepad from her and held it to my chest.
“Thank you,” Levi spoke for me, and we made our way to the door. As we hit the cold night air, I looked up at Levi and pulled him to a stop. He turned, confusion on his face, when I rose to my tiptoes and kissed him with everything I had. I poured all of my thanks into that kiss, keeping my treasured books close to my chest. When I pulled back. Levi was out of breath, but his eyes were fixed on me.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “It’s been the best birthday I could ever have dreamed of.”
That shy smile I adored so much spread on Levi’s face and he slipped his hand in mine. “Let’s go home, bella mia.”
Home, I thought as we began walking to the Jeep. I knew Levi was referring to Austin and Lexi’s house, but I only read it as him and I. Because I was pretty sure that my home was solely with this sweet soul—wherever that may be.