Chapter 95

“The two of us were everything that we needed to be to one another as we sat behind those strings.”
—Courtney Giardina, Behind the Strings

SUNDAY WAS EASTER and I went to sunrise service with Mom, Dad, and Pey. I’d already announced on my YouTube channel that I’d be taking a break for three weeks since I couldn’t take my guitar and recording equipment to San Diego and the next Sunday was a holiday. Like Christmas, I love the pageantry of Easter. Our church did it up well.

It’s big. I think I mentioned once before, close to 500 people attend Sunday morning service. Really, I’m surprised. They don’t get any bonuses like people in V1’s churches did. They don’t get a tax deduction for their membership. The preachers don’t make half a million a year. The church edifice, modeled along the lines of some great European architecture, was built and paid for by the members with no additional incentive than having a beautiful place to worship. The programs of the church ... now that was weird. They still had a community food shelf, a shelter for the homeless, and emergency services they provided. They got government grants for those services and the programs were monitored by some agency to be sure money was spent on the right things. Nobody padded the preacher’s salary with administrative costs of running the shelter. So, I guess people were here for no other reason than they wanted to be here.

The church was silent when we entered. People packed into the pews with an attitude of expectancy. The church was dark. There’s a huge stained glass window in the front and as dawn approached, it began to glow. Then a single bell rang from the back of the congregation. A moment later another answered from the left balcony. It was met with a chime from the opposite balcony. You could hardly hear the chant when it began, also from the rear. ‘Alleluia, Alleluia.’ It just repeated over and over, growing closer with each repetition. Then the chant was taken up by the choir in the left balcony, then by the right. The sanctuary echoed with alleluias, growing louder by the second. I glanced to my right and my breath caught in my throat as I saw huge flowing banners in the aisles as the choir approached the chancel, chanting the alleluias and soon joined by the chiming bells in rhythm with the chant. By the time the choir was all the way to the front and began to spread out across the full width of the sanctuary, the sun was up and the stained glass was on fire. Then the organ started. At first it was an echo of the chant and then it burst into the chords of the first hymn. The whole congregation joined the choir singing ‘Christ the Lord is Risen Today, Alleluia!’

It was hard to sing while I was crying. It was beautiful, purging, electric. Images of my sweet Renie and Rebecca flooded my mind. My children. My grandchildren. My parents. My terribly misunderstood and unappreciated sisters.

I don’t know about the theology involved. The idea of any god killing his son in retribution for the sins of the world was mildly disgusting to me, even if the child supposedly rose from the dead. But the ritual and pageantry were enough to purge my mind as I prayed my V1 loved ones had found peace.

I don’t know what else happened that morning or what the pastor spoke about. I know the tears didn’t stop until I’d stepped outside the church after the service.

After I had breakfast with my parents, I went to visit each of my girlfriends that day. We had a few minutes alone. I didn’t try to make out with them. I just held each one and told her how much I loved her and cherished her. Rachel and Livy were at Livy’s house and Eva had prepared a huge Easter dinner for the three families. I was really happy when Nanette joined us there. Joan was at Beca’s house and I sat with them to just hold and cuddle for a while. Desi was still in her pajamas at three o’clock when I got to her house. Between her rehearsals and mine, I’d scarcely seen her the past week. I guess that one was a little more intimate than with my other girlfriends. We spent an hour making love and just whispering to her how important she was to me.

It was nearly five o’clock when I made it to Brittany’s house. The furniture was all pushed back and music was playing. There was still food on the table. Grandma grabbed me and had me dance her around the floor before I even got a chance to kiss Brittany. I think the adults had all been tipping the bottle a bit. Gomez shoved a mojito into my hand as he swept Brittany away from me for a dance. I sipped it and decided it was mostly straight rum. Lisa demanded a dance with me and I thankfully put the powerful drink on the table and danced her around the room.

Eventually, I got Brittany alone. She got me to her room and put me in a liplock that nearly sucked the air out of my lungs. I could taste rum on her as well.

“We need to call Sophie,” she said. “You could be fucking me while we talk to her.”

“I’m not going to fuck you for the first time while you’re drunk,” I said.

“Sophie would,” Brittany said. We got on Skype and Sophie answered right away.

“No performance today?” I asked.

“Even the dance company closed for today,” Sophie sighed. “We had performances Friday and Saturday, though.”

“How are you, sweetheart?”

“Horny! I want you to visit me for a week like you did Emily!”

“Take your clothes off, Auntie,” Brittany said. She demonstrated what she wanted by stripping and I watched Sophie get out of her clothes quickly. “Now watch what Jacob does to me and do it to yourself,” Brittany continued. She didn’t try to get me out of my clothes but pulled my hands around her to maul her breasts. I kept glancing toward the door, convinced Gomez would come bursting through at any moment and club me to death for molesting his daughter. As it happened, it didn’t take long to get either Brittany or Sophie off, even by long distance.

“My sweet little Latinas,” I said as I continued to caress Brittany and Sophie copied my actions on herself. “I want you to know I love you both. I miss you, Sophie. We’ll get together again soon. I promise. And Brittany, the next time you are naked in my arms, you had better be sober and ready because you’ll no longer be a virgin.”

I kissed Brittany and she continued her conversation with Sophie as I left. Lisa and Joyce were still dancing together. Mr. and Mrs. Adams were lying on the sofa and I heard him snore. I think Grandma must have had enough and went to her room. I slipped out and drove home, thankful I hadn’t had any more of that mojito.

I called Em late that evening since even on Easter the groceries have to be delivered to the bases and camps. I told her again how much I loved her and cherished her.

I was thankful we didn’t have a track meet that week. I spent every lunch break in the orchestra room getting beaten on by Mr. LeBlanc. I finally learned to take my eyes off the music and just watch him. Things went better from that point on. He was really good at keeping the tempo correct, even when Cindy and I were the featured performers and he was great at cuing me when I was just part of the ensemble. I was learning a lot about music from him.

We didn’t have a boys’ track meet until Saturday, but the boys ran all the clocks and measurements when the girls hosted Noblesville at our track on Wednesday. On Friday evening, Rachel picked me up for our date. We drove back to her place and just went to bed. I went to sleep before we got into any lovemaking. But I felt great waking up to gentle loving before I had to catch the bus to our meet in Goshen.

It was a long way to travel for a two-way meet but Livy and the girls had to go all the way to Penn for a four-way invitational. We got back to school about one. Livy didn’t show up until three-thirty.

I couldn’t even play my concert piece Sunday morning because the guitar part doesn’t run all the way through it and sometimes when I was playing it was a simple backup. Pey came to join me on the beanbag for my morning session and I played a program of music by Isaac Albéniz, all of which I’d played at different times before. Pey was alert through the whole concert and occasionally shifted around to hug me between movements. She was sweet and when I’d finished, I remembered to tell her that I loved her, too.

And that started hell week. I was still trying to get up early enough to run with Nanette and made it twice that week. I had track every afternoon, including a meet on Wednesday against Concordia and Snider. Fortunately, it was a home meet and I was able to go straight from the locker room to the auditorium afterward.

I’ve heard some schools don’t take their music program very seriously, but not so Mad Anthony. We had a full concert rehearsal every evening and Wednesday was full dress rehearsal. At least I didn’t have to rent a tuxedo. Full dress for our orchestra was all black. Men in black slacks and black shirts. Women in black blouses and preferably long black skirts, but slacks were permitted. I noticed the whole cello section wore slacks. Cindy chose a long straight black dress.

The concert was a full two hours and that meant rehearsal ran for about three hours. Two-thirds of it, I sat backstage studying because I was only on for about fifteen minutes of the program. Still, everyone in the concert was required to be there through the whole thing. At least I didn’t need to sit on stage through it all.

The concert was Thursday night at eight.

All the practice paid off. I wasn’t in the best position to hear the nuances of all the music, having to sit backstage with my guitar in its case. But it really sounded great. Cindy and I weren’t the only featured soloists. This was a really big deal and there was a solo or feature of some instrument in almost every piece. It was hard to believe I was invited to play with them when I wasn’t even a part of the orchestra.

Cindy and I were on in the middle of the second act. She came offstage after the first piece and met me. I knew to have my guitar in hand. The audience was still applauding the previous piece and the soloist. I pulled at my collar.