Berry asked Mr. Allen about this before Wednesday’s rehearsal, while the other choirboys practiced knife-throwing in the Twelve Step room. “It depends—on whether you think of music as signal or carrier,” said Mr. Allen.
“Huh?” said Berry.
“I mean, does music convey something? Or is it enough for music to convey itself? Maybe there isn’t any information or ideas in music—like emotion or whatever—there’s just patterns and relationships between notes.”
Berry liked talking to Mr. Allen about this stuff even when Mr. Allen didn’t make sense. “But if music doesn’t have to say anything besides its own stuff, how does that make it Goddy or whatever?”
“Goddy?”
“Goddish. About God.”
“Maybe the listeners make it Goddish. If nobody in the choir does anything to make them think of something else.”
In the rehearsal, Mr. Allen started the boys on stuff for the upcoming fall concert, some Gabriel Faure, some Britten, some Flarold Darke. Berry noticed Teddy looking at him weirdly, then Randy gave Berry a thumbs up.
“Heard you got a girlfriend,” Teddy whispered between canticles. “Heard you and Lisa got to third base.”
Berry wasn’t sure which base was which. But he was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten to any bases with Lisa. He started to say so, but then it was too late and Berry realized a denial would just make things worse.
Halfway through Bruckner’s “Locus Iste,” Berry felt something land on his head. He knew without looking up it was the Mack Hat, at a player’s angle. The other boys had never let Berry wear the Mack Hat before. Berry sang “ines-timabile sacramentum,” this place is inexpressibly sacred. Voices crested over a place of hushed grandeur and the Mack Hat quivered with Berry’s passion for Bruckner’s sacred and maybe meaningless awe.
Break time came. “The Mack Hat,” Randy said. “Wear it well, my son. For you are a man.” The Mack Hat bristled with fine green and brown herringbone. A feather, mostly a bare spine, stuck out from its silk brim. The boys had found it in the closet near the Twelve Step room.
“Thanks,” Berry said. “I don’t know, I mean Lisa and I aren’t necessarily a thing ...”
“Understood,” said Teddy. “You get some, you get gone.” Berry nodded. The Mack Hat nearly fell over his eyes. “Just make sure you break the third base barrier before you hopalong Cassidy your way out of there,” Teddy added. “Get you some home runs under your belt.”
“Home runs,” Berry said. “Got it.” He saw rage in Wilson’s eyes from across the room. Berry was relieved when rehearsal started again. Between Randy’s tips on female orgasm and Teddy’s urging him to go all the way, Berry couldn’t take the stress.
Berry wondered as he sang who’d told the boys about his kiss with Lisa. It could only have been Wilson or Lisa, and Wilson seemed too jealous to mention it. The idea of Lisa going around telling people, at school or at the girls’ choir, about the kiss freaked him out. What did Lisa think was going on?
Whatever. It was obvious Berry should avoid Lisa for a while.
“Berry?” Lisa stood at the door to the choir room as rehearsal ended and the boys walked out. “I wanted to talk to you. I told my dad I had a church thing. He’s picking me up in an hour.” Lisa wore a scarf, sweater and long denim skirt. Her face glowed pink like a newborn gerbil.
Several choirboys punched Berry on the shoulder or high-fived him. “What’s their problem?” Lisa asked.
“Uh, nothing. Come with me.” Berry wanted some privacy for his hour with Lisa. At least he’d lost the hat. He led her down the dark, shit-and sperm-sprayed alley next to the cathedral office building, then through a little window that the Verger never locked. On the other side, a small office nestled below ground level. “We can talk in here.”
The room had a big sofa and a ton of books with titles like Bloiv Off Divorce or Peter Pan’s Concrete Overshoes. A carpet covered half the floor with gullies and whorls of fraying weave.
“Why were the choirboys acting weird?” Lisa asked.
“They heard somewhere you’re my girlfriend.”
“Huh.” Lisa’s eyes and lips seemed too much lushness in one place, like the rare blooms of the Wasteness growing into gorgeous turf wars.
“Mr. Allen says music doesn’t have to mean anything, that it can be signal and not carrier,” Berry said to fill the silence.
“I’m sorry things were weird the other day. Sometimes my dad’s like a Teletubby with a busted vacuum tube. Actually, he’s okay most of the time, when he’s not tripping on rebel brain iguanas and stuff.”
“It’s cool.”
“But thanks for trying to help.”
Berry lowered his head.
“I really like you,” Lisa said. “You’re not like the other boys I know. You’re sweet and smart and don’t smell like a cheesesteak.”
“I’m kind of unusual,” Berry said.
“I figured,” Lisa said.
“I mean really unusual. Look, I gotta show you something. Wilson’s going to tell you about it anyway.”
“Is that the only reason you’re showing me? Because of Wilson?”
“No.” Berry thought a moment. “But I might have waited longer otherwise.” Then before he could lose his nerve Berry tugged up his sweater and then his T-shirt. Berry made sure the curtains covered the window and the door was locked, then unwound the Ace bandages under his armpits. He didn’t look at Lisa until he was done. Then he watched her face. Her eyes widened like a spill.
“Oh shit. Holy fucking shit.” She stared for a while. “Are those real?” Berry nodded. “God, that’s weird. I mean, you’re a boy, right? From the waist down.”
Berry nodded again.
“Oh man!” Lisa bent until her eyes almost grazed his chest. Berry shivered. His nipples felt raw from the draft and Lisa’s gaze.
“Fuck me,” Lisa said loudly. “Yours are bigger than mine.” “Really?” Berry said, almost proud. “Can I see?”
Lisa unwound the scarf from her neck. Berry held his breath. His head buzzed by the time Lisa pulled her blouse up and off and worked on her bra. Berry let out his breath as the bra fell to the exposed cement floor.
“Wow,” Berry said. “Can I touch them?”
“If I can touch yours.”
Berry’s breasts really did dwarf Lisa’s a little. But hers felt nicer. The curve of their undersides made a crevice like a closed elbow. The texture, from sloping top to rib cage, with that fertile seed mid-swell, captivated Berry. Lisa’s breasts must have still been developing. Berry probably had a bigger jolt of estrogen in his body than she did.
“Lisa,” Berry said. He felt his privates twitch. “I really, really like you too.” He ran his hands over her breasts, and she over his. “I hope this doesn’t freak you. There’s this whole complicated explanation I can’t get into now. But all you gotta know is that I haven’t become, I mean, I’m not turning into—”
The door opened. Canon Moosehead broached the doorway, nausea in his eyes. He stared at the two topless teens with their hands on each others’ breasts. “What in the name of Jesus ... I mean, Jung! I mean . . . Oh shit.” The Canon jumped back into the hallway and slammed the door.
Berry grabbed at his bandages. “We’d better get out of here. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe we could hang out on Saturday. Downtown or something.”
“I’ll talk to my dad. I’ll call you.”
Berry had his bandages on and his sweater pulled over his head. Before he even had an arm through a sleeve, he opened the window and pulled a chair over to it. “I’ll go first and catch you on the other side.”
“Okay.”
Berry caught Lisa in the alley but the force of her landing threw him against the church wall. He held her tight and her impact grafted their bodies together. They stayed like that for a moment, holding each other in the alley. Then Lisa looked at her watch. “Shit. My dad’s probably here. Don’t
let him see you. You’re not his favorite person.”
Berry waited in the alley a few minutes. Then he walked to the alley’s mouth and looked around for signs of Lisa’s dad. Nothing.
“Yo, way to go.” Teddy stood at one side of the alley. “What do you mean?” Berry looked at the head choirboy and bit his lip. Berry had assumed Wilson would never tell his secret to the choir, especially since then Berry would tell about their kiss.
“Man, I heard everything. She said, ‘fuck me,’ and then ‘man, it’s so big.’ Canon Moosehead went down there and then ran back upstairs with that look he always has lately.” “We kind of had to leave in a hurry,” Berry said. He felt sick at the idea of Teddy and the others anointing him studly for all time.
“No kidding. Fucking in the Canon’s office. That’s pretty bold. Where you gonna do it next time? On the altar?” “Naw,” Berry said. “Too hard. I like cushions.”
“Like that big sofa. Gotcha.” Teddy high-fived Berry again.
“Um. Gotta catch my bus.”
“Sure thing. See ya.”
“Right.”
Berry wished Judy hadn’t picked this week to make sure he actually went to school. At least he noticed no difference in the Swans’ scorn the next day, but the Geese noticed Berry anew. Obviously Randy and Marc had spread around that Berry had a hot girlfriend. People whispered “No way” or “I can’t believe it” during class.
At afternoon recess, Guy, a jock in his Goose class, loped up to him. “Berry. They say you’re dating a babe. I’m like, she has to be hideously deformed under her clothes. Or secretly a guy. Am I right?”
Berry stared into Guy’s turnip face and didn’t say anything. “So what’s the deal? She straight? You banging her or what?”
Berry wanted to make a clever answer but had none in his head. Eventually Guy tired of taunting Berry and went away.
Berry sometimes wondered how he’d get through another four years of this. The high school near Berry sounded as terrifying as Orlac Middle, only with more drugs and veteran bullies. Wilson had told Berry he had a better chance of going to an Ivy League college from public high school than Wilson would have from his prep school, because the Ivies have quotas for each private school and only get one or two applicants per public high. “Don’t worry,” Berry had said, “I won’t take your slot.”
At day’s end, Berry ran for the exit as soon as the bell sounded, but he wasn’t quick enough. Guy and a few others intercepted him near the big staircase to the exit. Berry went limp the moment they seized him. They dragged him to the school cafeteria and pitched him into the big can of food waste.
“Maybe we should take a picture to send to his girlfriend,” one of them barked.
Berry sat in the can for a few moments until he was sure they’d gone. He then climbed out and went to the boys’ locker room, where he cleaned up the best he could.
He had to run to the Benjamin Clinic. In the waiting room he looked around but ignored the neo-Nazi tranny punks. He tried to imagine this place bursting with steam, the bustle of people in coveralls and the sound of machinery eeking every extra inch out of noodles. Covered in cafeteria leavings, Berry tried to feel clean.
Marsha Joyce looked Berry over from scalp to shoes and frowned. Berry worried at first the food trash bugged her. “Tell me about your transition,” she said. “I don’t see you making much effort.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to be living as your new gender. That’s the reason for the hormones, to make it easier for you to pass and wrest acceptance. The changes in your body are a means, not the end in themselves.”
“I know that,” Berry protested. “I’m doing way better. I’ve had a bunch of solos lately, and Mr. Allen says I’m using my head voice more than ever.”
“We’re not doing this to please Mr. Allen. He’s just using you. This is about you and who you want to be.”
“Yeah, yeah. Right, of course.” Berry hunted for news. “I told my girlfriend the truth. I showed her my new self and stuff.”
“That’s great. How did she take it?”
“She thought it was cool. I think.”
“So why bind your breasts?”
Berry looked down. “Oh.” He’d forgotten to undo his bandages before the Benjamin Clinic appointment. “I guess I still haven’t gotten used to them.”
“They’re here to stay.”
“Sure. I guess, with my parents and all ...”
“Do you want me to talk to your parents?”
“No. I’ll be talking to them. It’s just that they’re going through a tough time right now. I think they’re splitting up.” “That’s too bad. But they still deserve to know about you. Their problems are theirs, not yours. Berry, what I see happening here is your body changes but not your life. If that goes on long enough, it becomes progress in the wrong direction. We want to keep you focused.”
Berry looked down. “Feels like I’m racing already. But I’ll try to move faster.”
This was the first time anyone had told Berry his breasts were “here to stay.” Like rock’n’roll. Berry had always thought they would shrink like a bump on the head if he stopped the pills.
“Maybe if I let Maura teach me,” Berry said to Marsha. “She wants to pimp my ride.”
“Sounds like a great leap forward to me. Berry, we used to make people like you live as women, full time, for a year before we’d dole out hormones. It was a punishment to face female life without breasts or body softness. Now we’ve done away with that. But we still expect you to make an effort.”
Berry promised that the next time he showed up at the clinic, they’d see a major change.
Berry hoped to see Maura at the clinic entrance when he left, but for once she wasn’t hanging around. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left Lisa and him in the weird garden.
Someone had made a pile of cassettes and CDs in the living room of Berry’s apartment. Berry vaulted over the soundtrack to Marco’s and Judy’s relationship. One hand-labeled tape atop the quasi-pyramid read “Love and Nuclear Nonproliferation.” Berry felt defeated, as if by the flu.
It hadn’t been that long ago that Berry had grasped at magical explanations for his life. He’d believed his dad was a warlock trying to save his mom from a curse, or struggling with a curse of his own. Another month, Marco had seemed a mad scientist growing brilliant snakes in the basement. Marco had talked about scheduling a “drain-snaking.” Berry had feared his dad planned to let the creatures loose in the sewers.
Now Berry needed to disappear into mystery more than ever, but he’d lost the ability. He blamed Marsha and Dr. Tamarind, who both asked too many questions.
Berry decided to call Lisa and see how she was doing. He held his breath lest Mr. Gartner pick up. Instead, a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Gartner residence.”
“Hi, is Lisa here? It’s one of her friends from church. No, no. Nothing like that. I’m just in her Bible study group and I had a question.”
Berry had guessed right. Mrs. Gartner, the religious one, was back from her trip. “I’m glad to hear she’s keeping up with her Bible study. Hold on.”
It took a while, but Lisa’s voice came. “Hey,” Berry said. “Oh, hey,” Lisa said. She sounded drained. “I can’t talk right now.”
“Okay,” Berry said, feeling his legs turn to scaly tentacles. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure. Yeah. Everything’s fine.” Translation: No, everything’s fucked and I can’t talk about it.
“Are you creeped out by yesterday? By me?”
“Gee, I dunno,” Lisa said with too large cheer. “I guess it’s one of those passages that could mean a few things. But hey, we can talk about it more in Bible study on Sunday. Bye now.” Her voice turned to noise, then Berry heard a bright chord.
Berry sat on his bed and stared at his choir posters. It was almost eight and he hadn’t eaten dinner. No parent seemed to be home. Berry hunted in the fridge and found three dried out cha
lupas, which he panfried. While he ate, he searched through his stuff and dug up the paper where Maura had written her number. It rang and rang.
Berry dug out his Choral Fugue State CD and sang along with the Trinity College Choir on Bach while pondering how to clean his robes by Sunday. He wondered if they’d go in the bathtub, maybe with some of Judy’s moisturizing shampoo.
Berry heard a noise in the sitting room/kitchen area when the tub was half full. He rescued his robes and ran out. There stood Marco and Maura. Marco wore a checkered silk shirt, unbuttoned to his waist, jeans, and cowboy boots. Maura wore a pleather mini-skirt and skintight tube top.
“Berry,” Marco said. “I’m glad to see you. I’ve got something to tell you. This,” he gestured at Maura, “is your new mother.”
Berry stared at his dad and his friend and didn’t know what to say. So he threw his shampoo-soaked robe at his dad. Marco didn’t react, until the shampoo got in his eyes and they blinked and watered.
“I’ve never seen this guy before,” Maura said. “I was looking for you and he let me in. This is where I dropped you off one time.”
“He’s my dad,” Berry said.
The purple robe covered half Marco’s head and ran down his back, sloping over one shoulder. He stood srill and then shook himself like a dog. The robe landed on the pile of tapes and CDs. Berry retrieved it.
Maura searched for something nice to say. “He’s very Pearl Jam.”
“He’s usually more .38 Special,” Berry admitted “I wanted to apologize for Sunday. I totally screwed up. That Bishop guy is a dork. They all are in that gang. This one guy started hitting on me. I didn’t mean to leave you guys alone so long. Then I heard you got a ride.”
“Yeah, sort of. They told me you’d done mushrooms and wandered.”
“Only a little.”
Maura and Berry sat on the sofa. Marco wandered off to his and Judy’s bedroom. They heard some thuds, then silence. “I hope he’s okay,” said Maura. She looked more exotic than ever on Berry’s sofa, a halfling concubine in red.
They didn’t talk for a while. Berry didn’t trust Maura, but didn’t want to be alone with Marco. Finally, Berry mentioned about Lisa and how freaked out she’d acted.
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