The next afternoon, I headed back to TJ’s corner. He was already there playing, and I sat down on the curb, taking it all in. When I closed my eyes, I could feel the hairs on my skin standing up. I felt his music in every inch of my being, and when he stopped playing, I just wanted him to continue.

“It was that bad, huh?” TJ asked, sitting beside me.

“Do I look that defeated?” I joked.

“Just a little. I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you wanted it to go.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “Nothing lost but a try.”

“Did he give you anything at all? Any kind of…greeting? ‘How are you?’ ‘Where have you been?’ Anything?”

“He kissed me,” I told him. TJ’s eyes widened, surprised by my confession. “He kissed me, and I kissed him back, and we were great, and it was real, and it reminded me of why this city changed me in the best ways. And then, he stopped.”

“What? He just…stopped?” His brows lowered. “Out of nowhere?”

“Completely out of nowhere. We were good—great, really—and then I told him I was so sorry about what had happened to Katie, and—”

“Ah,” TJ cut in. “You brought up Katie, the kiss of death—or well, ironically, the death of the kiss. Any time Katie is brought up in a conversation, he shuts down.”

“How do I get him to open up again?”

He shook his head. “You don’t. Once you dip your toe into the pool of Katie apologies, you’re pretty much done for. Do you know the last time I saw him?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Me neither. Same with his mom. He answers when she calls, but she cannot recall the last time they saw one another, and he’s never the one to pick up the phone and ring her. It’s strange, really, how when Katie died, part of Elliott did, too.”

“He was there last night,” I swore. “I saw him. I saw him behind those hazel eyes.”

“It comes in sparks,” he told me. “And seeing you probably ignited the flame he’s spent so many years trying to extinguish, but the moment he felt anything, he had to put it out again.”

“That’s so strange.”

“And sad. My favorite memories include him. I taught music for all my life and teaching Elliott was the highlight. He just understood things I never said. Plus, my wife and I always wanted children but couldn’t have any of our own. Caring for those two kids was so fulfilling for us, and it broke my heart to lose them both.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just odd, getting older. The older you get, the lonelier and longer the days seem. That’s why I like coming here to play. It gives me a bit of meaning.”

“What do you do when you’re not here playing?”

He smiled and stood back up. “I sit at home, waiting to play.”

That broke my heart, the idea of him just sitting and waiting for nightfall to come.

“Don’t frown, young lady. It’s really okay,” he said, trying to comfort me. “Life happens. Sometimes you just have to go with the waves.”

I believed that, too, but sometimes the currents just seemed too high.

I listened to him play for the rest of the evening, and when he finished, I stood up and thanked him for his music.

“Thank you for taking it in,” he told me, placing his saxophone into a case. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to during my breaks.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Tomorrow turned into every tomorrow. I watched autumn brush through the city, painting the trees with burnt leaves. Ever since meeting TJ, I’d been sitting on that corner with him, listening to him play. I’d started working at Eve’s, and I made sure to take my break around his music time. TJ was the highlight of my return to New Orleans. If it weren’t for meeting him, I wasn’t sure I would’ve been okay.

Plus, when he played, I swore I heard Elliott’s heartbeats in his notes.

“How am I so far?” TJ asked, taking a break from playing his saxophone and sitting on the curb beside me.

I smirked and replied, “Your music is better than yesterday, and yesterday was the best I’ve ever heard you play.”

I’d made a lot of mistakes in my life, but listening to TJ play his music wasn’t one of them. Every evening he’d sit on a metal chair at the corner of Frenchmen Street with his saxophone, and he’d play his music for the passersby on their way to and from the strip of bars.

When people stopped to listen, they tossed him a few dollar bills. Some danced in the streets to his sounds, tourists recorded him with their cell phones, and a select few acted as if he and his music were nonexistent.

I never understood that—how could people walk past music and pretend they hadn’t just seen a glimpse of heaven?

TJ was in his eighties, and he’d been born with soul. People didn’t learn to play music the way he did—they came into the world with many lifetimes of heart and soul already embedded inside of them. TJ dressed in the best suits and ties, and he seemed to be a legend on Frenchmen Street. He was a staple of the street’s nightlife.

For several weeks, I wandered out to the corner each day and sat on the curb to listen to him play. He always had the biggest smile on his face and he had such a positive outlook on life. Plus, his jazz music had healing powers. It could make the saddest person find a moment of hope.

Around seven-thirty each night, TJ took a break, grabbed two water bottles and two hot dogs from Dat Dog on the corner, and then sat beside me on the curb. He’d hand me a hot dog, and we’d eat the meal together.

“Anything you think I could do better?” he asked me, biting into his food.

“Yeah, stop buying a girl dinner every night.”

“Can’t help it. I’m a gentleman.”

I snickered. “You might be the last one of those left.”

“I hope that’s not the truth. You need to marry yourself a good gentleman.”

“I think I’m gonna avoid the whole marriage thing.”

“Oh no,” he groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t believe in love.”

I shrugged. “Depends on the day you ask me.”

“What do you believe in? Do you believe in God?” he asked.

“That one’s still up for debate, but I like the idea of him.”

“Fair enough. What about aliens?”

“Maybe,” I said, taking a sip of water. “But not like E.T. or anything. I more so believe in aliens who like, take over people’s bodies and control their every action, making them do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. I’m ninety-nine percent sure my mom was overtaken by an alien.”

“I’ve known you for weeks now, and that’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned your mom. You talk about your father a lot, but never your mother.”

“Oops,” I murmured. “A lapse in judgment. It won’t happen again.”

“Why do you think she was taken over by aliens?”

I smiled and shifted around on the curb, signaling that I didn’t want to talk about it. TJ picked up on my signal and didn’t dive any deeper. That was one reason I liked him so much—he never pressed for more information about my past. He always told me it was called the past for a reason and there was no need to bring it into the present if it only hurt the person to talk about it.

“Oh! Guess what!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “I have a gig on Friday.”

“No way!” TJ said, slapping his leg. “I was waiting for you to get back into the soul music scene.”

“Yeah, I’ve been practicing on my own. It’s been so long since I’ve sung what I wanted to.” I smiled and nudged him. “You should come see me just in case I suck so at least I’ll have one friend there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thanks, TJ.”

“What about other friends, though?” he asked. “This old fart can’t be your only friend, right?”

I shrugged. “I never had an easy time making friends. My mom didn’t leave much time for building relationships outside of the studio.”

“There’s that mom word again.” He nudged me.

I bit my bottom lip. “Another slip of the tongue. Anyway, the last time I really had a solid friendship was a long time ago, but that’s ancient history.”

“But history nonetheless.” TJ lowered his eyebrows. “I miss him too, ya know.”

“It’s weird. It’s been so long, but still… When I met him, I didn’t even know I needed him. When Elliott was my friend, I felt like I was unstoppable, like I was good enough.”

“He had that effect on everyone. I just wish we could repay him for all he’s done. Anyway, your show—where’s it at?”

“Eve’s Lounge Friday at six.” I wrinkled my nose. “You might be late to your corner to perform, though.”

“No worries.” TJ knocked on the concrete. “This corner ain’t going anywhere.”