The Book of Trees by Leanne Lieberman Read Free Book Online Page A

with the band. It wasn’t just music, it was spiritual music. And the Blumes didn’t even need alcohol or a joint to have a good time. Singing at that religious dinner was like being in the frozen trees, except you didn’t have to wait for an ice storm. Every Friday you could be with friends and family and make that feeling through song, and you could even name that feeling: God . I couldn’t wait to call Zev Teitelbaum.
    “I want to come to another dinner, and I want to learn more,” I told him. “I want to learn about God.”
    “Wonderful,” he said.
    I started going back to the park at the end of the street in the evenings. It was spring by then and the trees were starting to bud. Each new shoot made me feel like the world was changing, and I was part of it. I’d lie on the slide and look up at the trees. I wasn’t exactly sure how to define God, but when I saw those trees, I felt sure God and nature were the same thing. I also felt you could create God’s presence with beautiful music. I never discussed this with Aviva or her family or at my classes. It felt too personal.
    Suddenly all my actions had a purpose: to bring more God into the world. Instead of trying to be the coolest or sexiest girl, or the best musician, I could help others by following God’s commandments: love your neighbor, honor your mother and father. This, in turn, would bring peace to myself and others. God, peace, music, nature—it all seemed to form a beautiful cloud of happiness in my head.
    Despite my religious conversion, I had some trouble with the bit about honoring my mother and father. I was still angry with Don. He hadn’t called all winter. He sent me a postcard, but all it said was Enjoying the snow and ice. How’s the band? Don.
    Not even “Love, Don.” I never wrote back.

    I finished my coffee, stuck my unfinished postcard in my backpack and headed up to the bus stop. On the way up the street I saw the guitar player sitting on a bench picking coins out of his case. I ducked my head and tried to scurry past, but he gazed right at me and called out, “Hey.”
    “Oh, hi.”
    He stood with his legs wide, one hip cocked forward, wearing an olive green Che Guevara T-shirt, his jeans resting low on his hips. His body was compact and muscular in a sinewy way. His legs were long and he was taller than me.
    “I hope I didn’t insult you the other day. I’m sure your sandwich was great. I just didn’t want you to think…”
    “It’s okay.”
    “Anyway, I wanted to play you something.” He gave me a cocky smile.
    “Oh…”
    “Just wait, okay?” He picked up his guitar and sang.
    Sandwiches are beautiful, sandwiches are fine,
    I like sandwiches, I eat them all the time.
    I eat them for my breakfast and I eat them for my lunch,
    If I had a hundred sandwiches, I’ d eat them all at once.
    I burst out laughing. I let my body hunch forward, arms dangling. The tension in my neck melted away.
    He grinned at me. “You know that song?”
    “My dad used to sing it to me.”
    He laughed and took off his sunglasses. Again I was surprised by his light, clear eyes. “I’m Andrew.” He stretched out his hand.
    “Mia. I’m sorry, I don’t shake hands.” I waved at him.
    “Germ fetish?”
    I shrugged. “I’m just not into it.”
    He raised one eyebrow.
    “I’m religious.”
    “Yeah, so. I’m a Sagittarius.” He bent to scoop more change out of his guitar case.
    “I think my bus is coming.”
    “I’m heading to the Russian Compound for a drink.” He put his guitar in the case and picked it up. “Coming?”
    “I…”
    “You look thirsty. C’mon.”
    He started strolling down the street. He had a casual, relaxed stride, like nothing bothered him. I followed him because he was still talking.
    “So your dad is a musician?”
    I had to run a few steps to catch up. What if someone walked by and saw me? “Yes, a songwriter too. You know the band the Jaywalkers?”
    He stopped short, and I almost bumped into him.