Year of the Guilty Soul

by A M Leibowitz

  “Is she your girlfriend, then?”

  “Yeah. She is.” I smile, and Sofia grins back.

  “Good. I like her. What about Mom and Dad?”

  “One thing at a time.” I laugh.

  That seems to be all there is to say about it right now. We sit quietly for a few moments before I ask, “Should we see if Mom needs help?”

  “No way,” Sofia replies. “I would definitely not go down there yet.”

  I turn to Maddie. “You want to play a board game?”

  “Guess Who?” she asks.

  “Sure. You get it set up.”

  Maddie slides off the bed and goes to the shelf where she keeps them. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but today, I’m going to play games with my sisters.

  ***

  The Tri-County Orchestra is about to play. We’re in the dressing rooms backstage at one of the largest theaters in the area. I’ve never played on a stage this big. My violin case sits on the long table in between a flute and a viola. I stand at the mirrored counter, examining myself and fussing with the lapels on my jacket.

  Mom took me shopping last weekend for concert clothes, and Cari came along. I told them I didn’t want to wear a dress. Mom brought me to this store where they sell women’s suits. Even though I sometimes imagine how I’d look if I wore a tux, this is good too. We bought one that’s lightweight enough it doesn’t pull uncomfortably when I play.

  I finally told my family everything, including about Cari and me. I shouldn’t have worried. Dad’s always pretty cool about stuff, and Mom reacted almost exactly the same way she did last winter with Noah. That is, she fussed over us and made a big deal out of my having a girlfriend like I’d won some kind of award.

  After rehearsal yesterday, Cari picked me up and we had Shabbat meal with Dom and Levi. Before we left, Levi pinned a new button on my jean jacket. It has pink and blue eyeglasses with different pairings of male and female symbols, and underneath it says, “Bi-Focal.” Levi said a queer friend of his makes them to sell at rallies and stuff. When he used the word “queer,” it sounded like power and not a slur. As in, We’re here. We’re queer. Get used to it. I guess now I’m part of that too.

  Sofia did my nails last night after I got home. She picked out a color called Silver Lilac. It’s a somewhat neutral shade somewhere between pink and brown with a slight shimmer. It’s not one of Sofia’s—I think she pilfered it from Mom’s drawer. Mom hasn’t worn nail polish in years, so I doubt she noticed.

  Cari taught me how to do the kind of makeup that will look flattering when I’m on stage but won’t make me look too feminine. I think I’ve managed it successfully by myself. The girl next to me glances over, pausing in applying her lipstick to give me an approving smile. I breathe out a sigh of relief before tearing myself away from the mirror to retrieve my instrument.

  Even though I’ve cleaned it already, I take out the soft cloth and wipe it down again. The motion calms my nerves. I know once I start playing, I’ll be fine, caught up in the flow of the notes and the blending of my sound with the other strings.

  I’ve thought more about what Cari said. She’s a Christian, and she has a deep faith that I don’t quite understand. I’m not on the same level as Vince, who makes a hobby out of arguing with religious people. I’m not like Sofia, who takes comfort in Bible verses about the Lord always being with us and having a plan for our lives. She’s the most tidy, organized kid I’ve ever met, so it makes some sense. And I’m not like Dom, who enjoys wrestling with deep questions and poring over holy texts to study them.

  I never have those feelings about anything religious. I wanted to—I hoped being in a church would give me those feelings, especially if I could follow the rules well enough. It never happened. The only time I ever feel anything like what they describe is when I play.

  Having gotten lost in my own thoughts, I almost miss it when everyone begins to file out. I follow them onto the stage and take my spot, setting my music on the stand as I sit. I warm up by playing a bit of the first piece. We’re opening with the overture to Mozart’s The Magic Flute. The rest of the program is good too—Tchaikovsky’s Marche Slave, followed by Howard Hanson’s Symphony No. 2, and closing with “Berceuse and Finale” from Stravinsky’s Firebird.

  The lights flicker, and the audience hushes. The chairperson of the school music association introduces the program. I tune him out and look around. I’m on the outside, third chair—that’s the second stand—of the first violins, so I can see out into the audience. I choke up when I see a full row of people and Mom’s tiny wave. I lift my hand back and manage a smile.

  Mom and Dad are in the center. To Mom’s right, Maddie sits between her and Dom, who is holding the program and pointing something out to her—maybe my name. Mom won’t let Maddie dress up for school, but at home and on special occasions, she’s allowed to wear Sofia’s outgrown clothes. Today, she has on a pink satin Easter dress. She’s got barrettes in her hair, the kind with ribbon streamers. Her curls are still pretty short, but because she has DiNapoli hair, it’s thick enough to keep the barrettes in place anyway. No makeup—Mom says eight is still too young. But she did her nails with us last night, so she and I match.

  Levi is leaning in and talking to Bubbe and Zayde. Vince is on Dad’s other side, and he’s brought his girlfriend. I’ve never met her, but I guess she’s coming out to dinner with us after. Then there’s Sofia, followed by all of my group of friends. Cari and Hannah are looking at the program together, and Noah has his arm around Gwen. Elliot’s brought his boyfriend with him because my family are some of the only people he can safely be himself around.

  Gran and Gramps chose not to come because they are very angry with us right now. They’re scared, which I understand, but they also believe that people like Dom and Maddie and me are gripped by Satan and in danger of losing our souls to the fires of hell.

  I think about that too, how some people are connected to the people who raised them while others, like Mr. Sullivan or Elliot, have to make their own families. I remember what Levi said last night at dinner, how one of the things he and Dom are fighting for is their right to get married. He says that will stop things from happening like with Mr. Cohen or Ms. Lorring’s girlfriend after their partners died.

  My mind wanders, and I can picture it now, Dom and Levi getting married. They’ll both look handsome and happy in their matching tuxes. Maybe they’ll even let me play my violin at their wedding. It makes me feel proud to have family like them and sad that not everyone is so lucky.

  The chairperson has stopped speaking, and the concertmaster walks out to the audience’s polite clapping. We tune, and there’s a brief pause. I love this moment because it’s full of anticipation, an almost electric energy I can feel in the tips of my fingers. I’m itching to play.

  Our conductor walks out on stage to enthusiastic applause. She shakes hands with the concertmaster, bows to the audience, and turns to step up on the podium. When she lifts her arms, I raise my violin and place it under my chin. On her downbeat, we play the dramatic opening chords of the Mozart, and I am swept up in the piece, transported by the music to another time and another place.

  ###

  Seasons of Love

  Love follows no rules. Like sun in winter and rain in summer, love can blossom in the most unexpected places. This richly diverse collection of stories proves that love is as universal and as varied as the seasons.

  The Stories:

  Tourist Season – Deven Balsam

  Machete Betty and the Office Sharks – Neptune Flowers

  Once Around Seven – Ofelia Gränd

  Winter Blossoms – Paul Iasevoli

  Year of the Guilty Soul – A.M. Leibowitz

  The Great Village Bun Fight – Debbie McGowan

  A Springful of Winters – Dawn Sister

  Out of Season – Bob Stone

  Seashell Voices – Alexis Woods

  Courting Light – A. Zukowski

  Available
as a complete anthology (ebook/paperback)

  and as individual stories (ebook + longer stories in paperback).

  For more information/purchase links, visit:

  www.beatentrackpublishing.com/SeasonsofLove

  About A.M. Leibowitz

  A.M. Leibowitz is a queer spouse, parent, feminist, and book-lover falling somewhere on the Geek-Nerd Spectrum. They keep warm through the long, cold western New York winters by writing about life, relationships, hope, and happy-for-now endings. Their published fiction includes several novels as well as a number of short works, and their stories have been included in anthologies from Supposed Crimes, Witty Bard, and Mischief Corner Books. In between noveling and editing, they blog coffee-fueled, quirky commentary on faith, culture, writing, books, and their family.

  Find A.M. Leibowitz online:

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amymitchell29

  Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/UnchainedFaith/

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/amyunchained

  Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/amyunchained

  Website: http://amleibowitz.com

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8544236.A_M_Leibowitz

  By A.M. Leibowitz

  Fifteen Minutes

  Electricity

  Finders Keepers

  The One That I Want

  Chemical Reaction

  Imperfections: An Anthology

  The Law of Radical Expressions: An Anthology

  Christmas at Mary’s

  The Royal Family of Hell

  (S)no(w) Angels

  Pink in the Mirror

  An Act of Devotion

  Lower Education

  Ashes and Alms (in Never Too Late)

  Passing on Faith

  Walking by Faith

  Leaps of Faith

  Keeping the Faith

  Anthem (Notes from Boston #1)

  Nightsong (Notes from Boston #2)

  Drumbeat (Notes from Boston #3 - expected 2018)

  Year of the Guilty Soul (Seasons of Love)

  Beaten Track Publishing

  For more titles from Beaten Track Publishing,

  please visit our website:

  http://www.beatentrackpublishing.com

  Thanks for reading!