Looking Forward [LGBT Shorts]

Jules - Dibs!

"Callie, look at this!" I call across the store. I wait for my longtime girlfriend to look up from the music books before holding up a packet of strings. "This will work for your violin, right?"

In her normal, mousy fashion, Callie puts up a hand and then lowers it. It's her adorable way of telling me to keep my voice inside. A few other customers seem to agree with her, given their glare my way. 

I stay where I am as she walks to me. When she's close enough I put the packet into her hands. Callie's eyes dart back and forth as she reads the back of it before shaking her head. 

To show off her skills from the night class we've been taking in the last year, she signs, "Wrong packet." Her hand gestures are shaky, but I get the gist. 

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me. Oh, I think she wants me to sign in response. I can do that. I sign "why", which is tapping the side of my head with a flat hand and then pulling that hand back and contorting it into the rock and roll horns. Who knew sign language is so fun to do? I mean, Deaf people, sure. And Hard-of-Hearing people. And mute people, if you really think about it--

Callie taps on my shoulder with an annoyed look on her face. "What's the point of signing if you're not going to watch what I'm communicating?" she asks in a hushed voice. She might have been really shy when I went to her at the cafeteria, but boy did her shyness disappear over the years, especially when she's exasperated with me.

Playing with the waves in my hair, I smile sheepishly. "Sorry. What were you 'communicating' about? I'll watch this time, I promise."

"Good." Starting over, she signs while I watch, puzzling out the translation from ASL to English. "The strings you picked aren't the ones I'm looking for. You found--" And then I got lost when she started fingerspelling.

"You're going too fast," I complain. "Can you please speak? I'm not that good in sign."

"I'm not good trying to describe the issue, either," Callie agrees. "I'm saying you found what's called 'gut core' strings when I need synthetic."

I tilt my head. "Huh?"

Callie puts a finger to her bottom lip while she thinks. "The different types depend on how they deliver sound and how often they need tuning," she explains. "Price is involved, too. Synthetic is the cheapest compared to the others."

To be honest, she's speaking nonsense. But watching her explain her passion makes. Her. Amazing.

Write that down. It's important.

She puts the strings back and searches through the others in stock. The more she searches, the lower her shoulders slump. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the synthetic strings are out of stock.

"Man, I'm giving a concert to a few people tonight," she says.

It's only four in the afternoon, and the concert starts at eight. "We can ask the store owner when she'll have more," I suggest. "And maybe she'll take my suggestion to order a batch of singing plushies."

Callie laughs. It's so great hearing the soft chuckle that comes out of her when I succeed in amusing her. It doesn't matter that I make her laugh once a week; my heart melts every time, even after four years of dating.

We go behind a guy to the register where the owner is. She's talking to him about the piano lessons her store offers for kids and teens alike. Once he's satisfied with the information, he leaves, and we step up.

Once Callie explains the situation, the owner shakes her head. "Sorry, but I get a new shipment next week. I won't get them sooner than that."

Callie slumps again. "Okay, thanks anyway," she says. To me, she mumbles, "Let's go. We need to meet up with May at the Galaxy Cafe."