CHAPTER ONE
“It’s Juliette to you, Sister Mary Elizabeth. My name is Juliette, not Jules.” The Sister’s bulging eyes peer down at me; my head is pressed painfully against the flat wall. My teary salty- blue eyes glare purposefully back at her. I should be afraid. I am a little, but God is the only one who knows for sure. How dare I challenge the official creed in catechism class? Love is the fundamental and innate vocation of every human being. It does not exist only between a man and a woman. I believe in love. Solid, devoted love between men and women, gays, or lesbians—love is love.
“Sister, have you ever loved another human being, a partner who is a part of you, the one who brings calm to your soul, seals your heart with love, frees you from all fear?” I ask.
“God is my partner. Anything else you would like to say, Juliette?”
Knowing that no response is expected, I sit in pure silence, unworthy to be in her presence. Her ruby-red cheeks on fire, she chokes inside her habit. Her squinting eyes talk to me with what I imagine to be scolding words, and she lifts her black wings, pointing the ruler at the door. I stand, head held high, and count my steps to the door. I open it quietly and close it even more quietly behind me as I enter the darkness of the hallway.
I slowly slide to the floor, my back against the solid concrete wall. My feet are planted firmly on the ground, and a chill travels up my legs from the cold tile floor. Crossing my arms to warm my body, I sit still.
The door next to me opens. Do I dare look up? Quickly it slams closed. The black fabric slaps me in the face; the laced black shoes dance around me. Focusing my eyes on my feet, I don’t dare look up. As I slowly tilt my head, my gaze follows the black holy cape flying down the hall until it disappears into the sunbeams shining down from the heavenly high stained-glass window.
I fixate on the clock below the window, watching the second hand crawl toward the twelve. Counting down in my church whisper . . . ten, nine, eight, seven . . . amen, five, four, hail Mary, three, two, until . . . ring, bells dance in my head. My leg muscles pulsate with prayers, and with one last amen, I stand up on quivering legs. I stroll leisurely toward the exit sign, never losing sight of the heavenly gate. I pause for a second at the doors before my soul’s strength pushes them open to my newfound freedom. My back to the church, each step is filled with more confidence. Under my breath I whisper one last alleluia.
I scan the parking lot. Cars are filled with patient parents waiting for their divine adolescents. I squint frantically in search of the forest-green family Chrysler. The heat from the midmorning sun shines down on my face, and I shield my eyes with my hand. I see the car parked off in the distance. Standing up on my toes, I stretch my hands high above my head and wave my imaginary SOS flag to get my mother’s attention. Mom waves to me out the window, and the car rolls in slow motion. The crackling sound beneath the tires gets louder as it crawls across the heated blacktop. Moving toward her, I fill the gap, grasping for the heavy metal door handle before the car comes to a complete stop.
“Jules, you can wait until the car stops to get in.”
“Not today, Mom.”
I duck my head into my escape car, and my backside follows, tumbling down onto the fabric front seat. Static shocks send waves of energy from head to toe. I stomp the floorboard with my feet.
Mom’s gradually pressing on the gas pedal. She waves out the window. “Nice to see you, Ruth. We need to catch up soon.” Her head leans out the window a little bit farther to talk some more.
Trying to get her attention back to me, I deepen my voice and slap my hand on the dashboard. “By God, this is important, Mom!”
She slowly pulls her head inside the car and turns to me, one eye on the road. “Catechism is over for me. These baptized feet will never enter another Catholic Church. And one more thing, Sister Elizabeth will be calling the home phone. Tell her my name is Juliette, not Jules.” A smile bigger than the Bible Belt covers my face.
My body is reacting, heating up from my interaction with the higher power. I need air. Why can’t I just sit in class and accept what they teach? I grab the window knob, rolling it feverishly round and round. The glass window slowly lowers and disappears; the wind cools my face. I grip the soft fabric seat below me and push myself up and off my seat, but the seat belt jerks me back into the car. More slowly this time, I gradually stretch my body out the window. My neck muscles strain, and the wind lifts my hair, swirling it away from my face. I close my eyes. With my head hanging out of the window, my shoulder rests against the door. Sluggishly I open my eyes and roll my head back. I watch as the church disappears. It doesn’t look so mighty anymore. I pull my head back inside the car. Wanting to look in the mirror, I drop the sun visor. “Wow, what a holy mess!”
Thank you, Sister. I did learn something in catechism. I have a voice. You awakened me by trying to silence it. I will pray that I find the love that brings musical angels and calming spirits. My soul partner exists out there. I am not afraid in this limitless world. My voice will be heard, my thoughts will be shared, my life journey lies before me. I will find the person whom I will love until my last breath.
Junior year of high school starts in three days. School tortures me with the cliques and hurtful gossip and make-believe friendships. Teens crowd the malls in search of new clothes to show their style; colored hair and trendy cuts make them look older and wiser. The newest fashionable shoes lift us high to match our visions of success. All of it is trivial to me, and a waste of effort and time. My true girlfriends make me smile; my arms are always open to them, and vice versa. They are my lifelines as we trudge together through our awkward teen years. At the age of sixteen, we have all the answers, but I’m not sure we know the questions.
