As she finished, the crowd clapped and a man took the stage. And so it went on; people, one after the other, taking to the stage, sharing their poems. Some were funny, some were serious, some were so heartbreaking that tears fell down my cheeks.
Levi sat silently beside me, his hand on my leg as I stayed completely glued to every sentence bravely spoken aloud. When the final person left the stage, the server refreshed our coffees, and I turned to Levi. He was watching me closely. “They can just get up and read their words?”
“Yeah,” he said and stroked back the hair from my eyes. “It’s a poetry club, they have readings most nights, but Saturdays are for bigger poets, people who have published books, that tour the country.”
My eyes widened and I said, “It’s Saturday. Are we going to see someone?”
Levi nodded. “Yeah, but I wanted you to see the open mic first. I wanted to show you that people share their poems. That there are places to do it, if you ever wanted to.” He smiled, and shook his head. “I’ve only heard some of your poems, Elsie, but you’re better than most of those we’ve just heard.”
A heady warmth and joy sprinkled over me at Levi’s praise, only to be replaced with complete and utter fear. I shook my head. Glimpsing the stage in my peripheral vision, I turned to stare at the lonely microphone that sat center stage, under the glare of a spotlight.
“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.
Levi moved his arm, leaving my shoulders. I turned to thank him, to kiss him and express gratitude for the greatest gift I’d ever received, when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a red hard-backed book. The blush on his cheeks almost matched the pigment of the book cover, and he handed it over, a delicate ribbon tied around it.
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?”