“Got PB&J today, young lady,” TJ said the next week, sitting down beside me after the first half of his performance.

“I’m pretty sure it was my day to get dinner, seeing how you did yesterday.”

He shrugged. “My mistake. I’m sure you’ll get it tomorrow. By the way, I think our lesson was good today,” he told me.

“I feel like I’m letting you down,” I confessed. “I know I’m not giving you my all, and I know that’s my own fault. It’s like I have a mental block.”

“Give all you can, and I promise you that’s enough. When you’re ready, you’ll be ready. We’re not here to be perfect, so for right now, let’s just be good.”

“Thank you, TJ.”

“Any time.”

We finished eating our meal, and TJ stood up and went back to his music. I stood up to go back to work, but something made me hesitate.

His sounds were different this time—sad, almost. His music was quieter than before, still beautiful, but more like a whisper. As I got ready to head into work, my heart flew to my throat in panic. TJ’s saxophone dropped to the brick road, the impact intense. The sound it produced when it hit made my skin crawl.

“TJ,” I whispered, confused as my stare shot up to his. His brown eyes were bugged out and his hands flew to his chest. No… I rushed over to his side as his knees buckled from beneath him. “TJ, no, please…” Tears flooded my face as I wrapped my arms around his body, trying to help him up. He shook in my hold and my tears kept falling, hitting his sweet, scared face. His gaze burned into mine, and I swallowed hard, shaking him, begging for him to stay awake, to stay with me, to not fade away into the night.

His breaths were heavy. He wheezed and huffed as a crowd formed around us. A few people called 9-1-1, and others shouted, terrified, filled with worry and fear.

And my voice said nothing.

It cracked, it burned, and still, no sound came out until I could only say the four words that sat deep in my heart. “Please don’t leave me.”

The paramedics came and pulled me away. I fought and clawed and shoved them, wanting nothing more than to hold on to TJ. I needed to hold on to him for a little bit longer. I needed to be there when we found out he’d be okay.

He had to be okay. He was Theodore James, the most talented musician, the most wonderful man, and my friend.

But they refused to let me hold on to him.

I watched them relentlessly. I watched them check his pulse. I watched them try to make his heart beat again. I watched them try to save him as they loaded him into the ambulance.

“Let me come!” I shouted, trying to push my way through, but they wouldn’t allow it. There was no way they’d let me inside, and every second I fought them was a second they could’ve spent helping TJ, so I stepped backward and let them go.

“Tulane Medical Center,” the paramedic shouted before they closed the doors and drove away.

As they left, my heart collapsed.

I grabbed his saxophone, placed it into his case, and hurried down the streets of New Orleans. I couldn’t breathe. My legs forced me to run as I tried to find air to fill and empty my lungs. I raced to the corner, flagged down a taxi, and waited…and waited…and waited.

Once at Tulane, I rushed through the doors of the emergency room and hurried to the front desk.

“Excuse me, I’m lo-looking for a man who was just brought in. He had a heart attack or stroke or something on Frenchmen Street, and, and I-I need to know he’s okay.” I fumbled my words, my whole body shaking as I hugged TJ’s saxophone case to my chest.

“Slow down, slow down. What’s the patient’s name?”

“TJ—um, Theodore James. He’s in his eighties.”

“What’s your relation to him?” she asked, typing away at her computer.

“I’m his friend.”

She paused her typing and peered at me over her screen. “Any blood relation?”

“No, we’re just friends.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out a patient’s information without an actual connection. All I can tell you is that he was brought in and is in the ICU.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s all I can say. Do you know any of his family members? Can you get in touch with someone?”

“I only knew about his wife, and she died. I just, I…” Tears swelled in my eyes, and she reached out and placed a comforting hand on my forearm.

“Maybe just hang out in the waiting room for a bit to see if a family member arrives?”

“Okay, thank you.”

I walked over to a chair in the waiting room and did exactly that—I waited.

It was going to kill me, the waiting. Whenever I blinked, I saw TJ falling in my mind. His terrified eyes were imprinted on my memory.

I rocked back and forth, wiping away the few stubborn tears that fell from my eyes.

Over the past few months, I’d been graced with TJ’s presence, and losing him wasn’t an option. When the waiting became too much, I stood up and rushed out of the building, going to the only place I could think to go.

* * *

“Elliott!” I exclaimed, out of breath as I rushed into Daze. He was sitting in the same booth as the last time, and he looked up with a hard stare my way.

He stood slowly and shook his head. “I thought I said—”

“It’s TJ,” I told him.

“What about him?”

Tears fell down my cheeks as the words fell from my lips. “I think he had a stroke. He’s at the hospital. I was there with them, but they wouldn’t let me know how he’s doing because I’m not family, and I don’t know if you know anyone we can call or—”

“Let’s go,” he said swiftly, gathering his notebook and walking past me. “I’ll drive.”

He led me to his car, and I climbed into the passenger seat. As we drove, nerves swirled in my gut, and Elliott manifested his in his tight grip on the steering wheel. “Was it bad?”

I started choking on my breath, replaying the look in TJ’s eyes. “Yes.”

He rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. “We’ll stop by my mom’s house. She’s his medical power of attorney.”

“He doesn’t have any extended family?”

“No. Just me and my mom.”

We didn’t speak any other words, and when he pulled up to the house, he hurried inside to inform his mother of all that was going on. When they came back to the car, Elliott hopped into the driver’s seat and his mother rushed into the back.

“I can’t believe this,” she murmured, holding a folder, which I assumed contained TJ’s medical records. Her breaths were wild and untamed. “But he’ll be okay,” she told herself. “He’ll be okay.”

“He’ll be okay,” I told her, echoing her words. “I promise he’ll be okay.”

“Don’t make those kinds of promises,” Elliott said harshly under his breath, only loud enough for me to hear.

His mom glanced up for a second and wiped her eyes. “Eli?”

“Yes?”

“Who is the woman sitting in the front seat of your car?” She cleared her throat. “Is it your girlfriend?”

My stomach flipped, and Elliott groaned. “What? No. It’s TJ’s friend.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, TJ’s friend. I just wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Laura.”

I twisted around and smiled at her. “Nice to meet you, too, Laura. I’m Jasmine.”

“Jasmine,” she said quietly, turning to stare at her son. “Like…Jasmine, Jasmine? Like…Jazz, Jasmine?”

Elliott’s eye twitched. “Yes.”

“Oh my God…I didn’t know she was back,” she bellowed. Then she turned to me. “I didn’t know you were back in New Orleans. Eli, how come you didn’t tell me she was back?”

“Per-perhaps we should f-focus on TJ right now,” he scolded, my heart skipping beats right alongside his stutters.

“Of course,” his mother agreed. “It’s just surreal, is all.”

Surreal wasn’t a strong enough word for what any of this was.