I flop on the couch and sigh.

It took a number of phone calls, but Sam managed to verbally bludgeon the contractors into finishing up their work and the bar opened within her planned timeframe. At the same time, the owner of her old location abruptly changed course and instead of increasing Sam’s lease payments, offered her the opportunity to buy it instead. Sam agreed, so rather than closing the old location, she found herself trying to staff two bars. As a result, I was promoted to trainee bartender and after a week of juggling lessons and bartending, I’m exhausted.

“I hear that,” Dave says from the other end of the couch.

“Busy day at the paperclip store?” I ask, scratching the furry head that just appeared over the back of the couch. Zatanna purrs and settles down on my cat shelf, aka my bust.

“Eh, it was okay. It’s just…I dunno. Kai.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know!”

“Something’s bothering you, though. Out with it, or I’ll call June and she’ll come over and be very understanding at you. Or, you know, just take your time and know that I’m here to listen if or when you need a friendly ear.”

“Thanks, Lark.” Dave gives me half of a smile. “Maybe talking will help.”

I wait while he collects his thoughts.

“Part of me feels like I’m just making up a problem,” he begins, “but it feels like there’s something in the way of getting closer. Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty that’s going great!”

“If the sounds coming from your room the other night are any indication, I’d agree with that assessment.”

Dave colors slightly. “God, they’re so hot. It’s just that when we’re talking about, you know, life and stuff, they get frustratingly vague. Obviously, I don’t tell them about your situation, so as far as they’re concerned, you’re just my cute lesbian roommate. But I tell them all about my stuff. Hell, they’ve met my parents and everything.”

“Sorry, I lost the thread there when you described me as your cute lesbian roommate. Who thinks I’m cute?”

“Both of us, obviously.”

“Oh! Wait…did you say they met your parents?”

“Yeah, they drove up the other day to see a show and of course couldn’t be in town without making sure that I ate and since I’d mentioned a little while back that I was sort of seeing someone they had to take us out to dinner. I’ve barely seen you, so I didn’t get to tell you about it.”

“Ships passing in the night. It went well, I assume?” Dave’s parents are aggressively progressive.

“You shoulda seen my mom’s eyes light up when I said the word ‘boyfriend.’ I thought rainbows were gonna shoot out her ears.”

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“Kai’s cool with whatever, and ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t require explanation and makes it clear that it’s a gay situation.”

“Makes sense. So all of that is going well, but you don’t feel like your openness is being reciprocated?”

“Pretty much.”

I dislodge Zatanna long enough to grab controllers and start Mario Kart. I pass Dave a controller.

“It might not have anything to do with you,” I point out. “You said I was like that.”

“You’re gonna be Rosalina, huh? What a surprise. Also, explain to me please how your lack of openness led to successful romantic relationships?”

“Oh fuck you,” I say sweetly.

“I do understand what you’re saying and it’s a good reminder. But my frustration makes sense, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Take that!” I hit Dave with a red shell. “Without prying, any clue what Kai might be avoiding?”

“They mentioned something about a support group once. That was a while back, and I didn’t feel like I could ask.”

“Maybe if it comes up again, say something like you don’t need to know, but if it’s something they ever want to talk about, you’re happy to listen?”

“Could work. Speaking of things people don’t want to talk about, have you played the haunted violin yet?”

Mom did give me Grandpa Karl’s violin, but she told me that whatever I learned, she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Since I didn’t want to have another secret from Mom right now, I’ve left the violin in its case in the corner with my other music gear. Between that and the complete radio silence from my dad, I haven’t really wanted to think about family stuff. I had, however, filled Dave in on the situation.

“Nope,” I say. “It kinda feels like I’ll either open a new can of worms that I don’t want to deal with or I won’t learn anything interesting. Doesn’t really feel worth it to take the gamble right now.”

“Fair enough.”

We finish the the race in silence. Dave wins, I’m second.

“In happier news,” I say, “June and I are both free when you’re off work this weekend. Wanna practice?”

“Fuck yeah!”

With both Dave and me being wrapped up in our developing relationships and my new job, the band idea ended up on the back burner for a little while, but I know all three of us are still interested in making it happen.

“Cool. I told you Michelle plays keys, right? If that works out when she and Lily move, and it looks like they’re on track for the first half of December, that could really add to our sound, but we still need a vocalist. Didn’t you say you had a lead?”

“Yeah, I’d love to jam with Michelle and see where that goes. Funny story about the vocalist, though.”

I cock an eyebrow at him.

“I was thinking of Kai when I said that. They’ve got a really nice voice and they absolutely killed it at karaoke at the employee picnic. I was trying to ask them, but then they thought I was asking them out, so I seized the opportunity.”

“Way to carpe the diem!”

“I wasn’t gonna just let that go. But now I’m thinking maybe see how we gel with June, see where things go with Kai, and go from there?”

“That’s as close to a plan as we’re likely to get right now.”

*****

We finish the last chord and Anya applauds from the couch.

“Unexpected girlfriend benefit: hype squad for your band,” I say.

“No hype squad needed,” she answers. “You sound great and once you’ve got a setlist you’ll be unstoppable. But you already sound like a band.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, is one of you doing music magic?” Dave asks. “Is that a thing? Cuz damn, we are meshing well.”

“Oh, that’s Lark,” June says casually.

“Okay, were you going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask. “Like, I noticed something was up when we played together before, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not doing it on purpose. I didn’t even know for sure it was me!”

“It’s totally you,” June confirms. “You’re not making us better players exactly, but you’re somehow making us a better band.” She nods thoughtfully. “It makes sense that you’re a bass player.”

“Why?”

“You and the drummer keep the band together!”

“I don’t know that there’s necessarily a connection, but it’s not every day that a guitarist admits they can’t count, so I’m not gonna argue the point.” I wink at Dave because it’s something that we’ve complained about enough in the past. He obliges with a ba-dum-tss on his set.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” June scowls, obviously trying to suppress a grin.

We play a few more songs that we all know, then Dave pulls out some charts from our old band and work our way through them. Dave and I belt out the lyrics as best we can. We should get points for enthusiasm, anyway.

I notice after a few songs that I’m enjoying singing a lot more than I used to, even though I’m arguably worse as I’m still getting used to my new range. 

By the time we’re done, I’m feeling both wrung out and energized. Judging by the way June and Dave are shaking out their hands and rolling their shoulders, but joking cheerfully, they feel the same way.

I go to put my bass away on the rack. Grandpa Karl’s violin is sitting in its case on top of the amp next to my instrument rack. Somehow, it feels like it’s waiting for me to notice it. I pick it up warily.

“You okay over there, babe?” Anya asks.

“Yeah,” I answer after a moment. “Just thinking about the violin.” I bring the case over and squish in next to her on the couch, setting the case across our knees.

“It’s haunted,” Dave says in a stage whisper.

June sits down on the other side of Anya, while Dave walks around the room to work out the stiffness from sitting on his throne.

Despite my earlier misgivings, I feel like now is the right time. I take a deep breath, snap open the latches on the violin case, and lift the lid.

“I can confidently state that it’s a violin,” says June. She closes her eyes and hovers a hand over the instrument theatrically. “Not picking up any vibrations in the ether, though.”

I lift the violin out of the case and examine it. Mom took it to a shop before she brought it over to have it professionally checked and restrung, since it hasn’t been played in years. I pluck the strings experimentally. They’re flat, of course. I peek inside and tilt the instrument this way and that until I can make out the label.

“Mathias Neuer, Geigenmacher,” I read. “That’s German for ‘geigen maker.’ Mittenwald, 1834.”

“Mittenwald is where mittens were invented,” June giggles.

I take the bow out of the case and stand up, leaving the case in Anya’s lap. I grab a tuner and tuck the violin under my chin. I haven’t played violin since middle school, when I was tall enough to switch to upright bass in the school orchestra, but I mostly remember how this is supposed to go. There was no shoulder rest in the case, so I’m doing terrible things to my neck to hold the violin, but I don’t plan on playing it long enough to find out.

I tighten the hair on the bow, then lift the bow and draw it across the A string to tune. The violin makes the barest whisper of a sound.

“It makes a sound only ghosts can hear!” says Dave dramatically.

“Or they rehaired the bow at the shop,” I say. “Is there rosin in the case, Anya?”

Anya finds the compartment inside the case and pulls out something wrapped in cloth. “Maybe?” she says doubtfully.

 “Yep.” I take the rosin, apply it liberally to the bow and try again. This time, I get a note, although it’s definitely not an A. I struggle with the tuning pegs, but eventually get all four strings fairly close.

“Violinists are masochists,” I mutter. “Machine tuners were invented for a reason.”

I correct my bow grip and raise the bow to the instrument once more. I stumble through Twinkle and a couple of the Suzuki variations. French Folk Song comes a little easier and I’m a little more in tune as I adjust to the scale of the violin.

I’m playing the violin, but that’s all that happens.

“Well, that was a bust,” I sigh.

“Far be it from me to explain how your powers work,” June begins, then hesitates.

“But…,” I prompt.

“Maybe there’s a time limit. My guitar was probably made after that violin was played last. Or maybe you just need to relax. You look very self-conscious right now. Nobody cares how well you play violin. You weren’t expecting anything to happen with my guitar, you were just exploring the instrument.”

Anya is clearly struggling to contain herself and then blurts out, “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

I pretend to ignore her and look at June. “You’re saying I’m trying too hard? I should just open myself up to the instrument?” I place the bow on the lowest string and close my eyes. “Maybe gently finger the G string?” I pretend I don’t hear Anya’s laugh and begin a slow ascending scale, feeling the vibrations resonate through the violin’s body and into my own. “Listen to the sound pour out of the f-holes?”

Anya snorts, but this time I barely notice because I really am paying attention to the violin now and it almost seems like it’s responding. Instruments need to be played and this one hasn’t been for a very long time. It’s as if it is remembering how to be a violin. I can feel notes that aren’t resonating quite the way the should, so I give the violin a tiny nudge here and a little tweak there and the sound opens up to fill the room and

 

one of the other men gathered around the fire says, “Play something happier on that fiddle, boy,” and I can’t help but wonder how quickly he’d turn on me if he knew the truth

 

the final note of Kreisler’s Liebeslied lingers as I look at Jo over the strings of my violin and she smiles softly back and she’s still the most beautiful woman in the world but it is clear that she’s aging in a way that I don’t

 

my intonation is sloppy, but I’m already adjusting to my larger hands and it is so worth it for how easy extensions come to me now and my violin tucks so comfortably between my chin and my broad shoulder

 

the violin’s voice is my own, anger and hurt pouring out because even though I knew I would lose her, it shouldn’t have been this soon

 

my fingers dance across the strings but they’re too dainty and I feel so slight compared to my brother, whose solid presence at the piano fills me with both comfort and envy as his hands easily span the octaves across the keys

 

my little girl trots after me as I stride around the living room playing a Purcell march and this is what life is about

 

my heart skips a beat as Frank says, “You play like…an angel, Karl,” and smiles the smile that’s just for me

 

the memory of the train comes back to me sometimes in the night and I play my violin to blot out the searing pain and the helplessness of being trapped in the wrecked boxcar before the miraculous change

 

“Of course I will, you fool!” laughs Jo and I’m filled with warmth at the knowledge that this incredible woman will be my wife and I will be, of all things, her husband

 

my tears flow, but I don’t know of another way without endangering my family and I know that if I stay longer, I won’t be able to leave, so I play my old fiddle one last time and put it in its case

 

a lifetime of moments fill my mind and body and strong hands catch me before I sink to the floor

 

I blink up at Anya. “That was interesting.” I relax into her arms. June is holding the violin.

“I’ll say,” Anya says. “You play violin pretty decently. Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

I look at my hands. They’re my hands. I reach up to touch Anya’s face. My Anya.

“I think that Grandpa Karl and I have a lot in common,” I say. “And I’m pretty sure he didn’t die of a heart attack in Florida.”