Page 24 of Inside Out

“Then you began to play, and everyone took notice.”

“Yes, they did. Being part of an orchestra was heavenly to me. All of those different instruments coming together to create magic.” Jules closed his eyes and smiled contentedly. I wondered where his mind had taken him, but I wouldn’t interrupt the serenity of the moment by asking. Then he reopened his eyes and I fell into their hazel depths. “Music transcends all the labels people want to slap on us like race, religion, gender, and orientation. People might not always rise above the fray, but music does.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” I said then immediately felt myself blush. “Um…”

“Oh no. You’re not walking that back now, Rome,” he said, echoing my words from earlier. “I think you’re beautiful too, and I’d love to explore your music collection more. I was too busy admiring the unit Pete built for you and didn’t look at the titles on the albums or CDs.”

“That’s not my entire collection,” I confessed.

“It’s not?” he asked, eyebrow lifting.

“That’s a small part of what I own. Peter had planned to make additional units, but he never got around to it. I’ll show you the rest after you eat.”

Our conversation for the rest of the meal turned to the play and the plans we had for the next part in the production. I told Julius my concerns about allowing the playwrights to audition for parts they created because I felt it would be unfair on many levels. First, they knew the parts better than anyone else because they created them. While reading the play, I could see the three kids created characters in their spitting images, and I wondered how much of the story was about their lives. Second, if they did try out and land the parts, I would be accused of favoritism. Lastly, I wasn’t sure how they would handle me directing them. They saw the characters one way, but I might see them in a different light. I didn’t want to spend countless hours arguing with them. The most prevailing thought in my mind though was that no one other than them could play those roles as well. They were tailor fit for them. How could I even think about giving those roles out to anyone else?

Jules nodded when I shared my concerns with him. He said he had felt the same way about the music. He wanted to hold auditions for solo parts but felt in his heart that no one but Curtis could sing the songs he wrote with as much emotion. They were so personal to him. In the end, we decided to sit down with Ellie, Clara, and Curtis to have a discussion about auditions and find out how they would feel about someone other than them performing roles and singing songs that meant so much to them.

After dinner, Jules tried to insist on cleaning up and doing dishes, but I wouldn’t allow it. I didn’t want to waste a minute cleaning when we could listen to music and drink more wine. “Are you sure you’re ready to see what’s hidden behind this door?” I asked, standing outside the largest of the spare bedrooms.

“Unless it’s a headless doll collection then yes.”

I opened the door before I could talk myself out of it. The rest of my house was tidy and orderly, but this was the room I retreated to when I needed things to be comfortable and messy.

“Whoa,” Jules said when I opened the door. He walked into the center of the room and turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

I’d chosen a deep shade of amethyst paint color for the walls, but it was hard to see it behind the rows of shelves filled with books, albums, and CDs wrapping around three walls of the room. I’d pushed my worn-out, brown leather loveseat against the fourth wall and covered the walls above it with framed playbills from my favorite productions. On either side of the loveseat were battered, antique end tables big enough to hold reading lamps and wine. The main focus of the room was my pride and joy. I’d carefully hung the shelves on one wall to direct the eye’s focus on the RCA Victor Victrola record player I’d found at a yard sale when I was foraging for vinyl records. I’d later had it appraised and was shocked that the player I paid a hundred bucks for was worth over three thousand dollars.

Jules turned and looked at me. “I love this room. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Find us some music,” I urged, and he complied.

I sat on the loveseat and propped my feet on the ottoman big enough for two while Jules perused the records. He was so enamored with the selection that he seemingly forgot I was there, but I wasn’t upset. I just loved seeing him in my space. He looked like he belonged, and I could picture endless nights of listening to music and reading on the loveseat together. Julius pulled a few records off the shelf as if he couldn’t quite decide which one he wanted to hear the most. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to choose just one because we had all night, but I was too busy enjoying the smile on his face when he found an album that surprised him.

In the end, he chose Billie Holiday. Jules refilled our wine glasses while I put the record on. I wasn’t sure how close he wanted me to sit and was prepared to curl up in the corner opposite him, but he patted the cushion beside him. There in the dim light, with the soulful voice of Billie Holiday playing in the background, Jules took my face in his hands and kissed me. He was tentative at first, his tongue gently seeking mine but grew bolder when I gripped the front of his light blue cashmere sweater. Our hands never explored each other, even though our bodies hummed with need and want. He kissed me long after the last song on the record ended, and the only word I could speak was his name.