Foreword
Yes, it's another damn music story, but, I am a musician. I love all things music, and, this is a story that I've had playing at the back of my mind since I returned to writing, but it's one that I just could not get into words until now.

I had originally wanted to write a much longer story, but I felt like a shorter, one shot format worked better for the story that I wanted to tell. I won't lie, though. I made myself cry twice when editing this for publication, so, you have been warned!

Black Forest, Colorado definitely earned and deserved its name. Founded as an artist colony back in the early 1900s who were drawn to the beauty of the literal black forests and the winding stream that still runs through the town itself. My auntie June loved it there, always sending me postcards made from photos she had taken, and, now I finally got to visit her for the summer, the summer of my 13th birthday.

I was excited because there was every bit of a real chance that I’d be moving here come September, if I liked it that is.

I was struggling back home, dealing with depression and failing grades, even though I tried to stay active because that’s supposed to help, right? It couldn’t help me with my real problem though. I wanted so desperately to be the girl on the outside that I knew I was on the inside.

My well meaning parents thought a change of scenery was what I really needed, and, I’d decided this was my chance to try out being my real self in a place where absolutely nobody knew me, apart from June of course. June was gay, so I had no doubt she would support me and even help me. But it still felt completely nerve wracking bracing myself to come out to her. At the same time though, I couldn’t wait another moment and told her immediately.

“Have you talked to your parents about this yet?” June asked me, as we sat on the front steps that led up to her front patio, the morning sun shining down through the branches of the big oak that sat in her front yard.

“I was hoping you could talk to them for me?” I asked hopefully.

“I can talk to them,” she said, “But you have to be there, too, sweetie. They need to hear it from you directly, that this is really what you want.”

“It really is,” I sighed as I leaned my head on her shoulder. “More than anything.”

June put her arms around me and I felt her lips on top of my head. “Then we’ll talk to them together. Have you thought about what you want to be called as a girl?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at her again, the wind tossing her honey blonde hair gently as she smiled patiently back at me. “I’ve always thought Cassy was pretty.”

She laughed softly. “Wow,” she said, as her partner Denise’s car came rolling slowly up the road, a pretty metallic green late model Ford Escape. “Your mom’s going to think I had something to do with this for sure now,” she teased.

“Why?” I asked, giving her a confused look as Denise got out of the car, and then went around to the back of her SUV to open the back hatch.

“Because,” June said, smiling at me again, “That’s exactly the name she wanted to give you if you had been her daughter. Cassy Marie.”

“Oh my gosh,” I said, “That’s so pretty!”

Denise, it’s important to mention, had very long and very dark blue hair. Today, it was braided in a ponytail, and her blonde roots were only just beginning to show due to the tight weave. She was wearing a neon pink tank top and carrying a hard guitar case - one of those ones that’s shaped like an acoustic guitar.

“She finally said yes!” she said, grinning as she approached us, carrying her new treasure. She stopped a few feet away and looked between us. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” June said. “I just found out we have a niece staying with us instead,” she said, grinning as she motioned to me. “May I introduce Miss Cassy Marie Teegan.”

“Well, hello there Cassy!” Denise said brightly, throwing her free arm around me and hugging me tight. “I’m so happy for you! If you need help with anything, don’t you even hesitate to ask.”

I blushed. “Thank you, Auntie Dee.”

“It’s great you’re coming out early,” Denise said. “It makes transitioning so, so much easier pre-puberty. It was for me, anyway,” she said with a knowing grin, and my jaw dropped.

“You? You mean you used to be...”

“A dopey looking boy named Kyle,” Denise giggled softly.

“Exactly why I wanted her to be the one to tell her parents,” June said. “I don’t want them to think we had anything to do with this.”

“Oh, Junie,” Denise said, “Babe, you worry too much. You know what your brother’s like. He’s the one who introduced us, remember?”

“Yeah,” June said, “But it hits different when it’s your kid.” She turned to me, and then hugged me again. “Don’t get me wrong though, Cassy, I am so, so happy that you came out to us first.”

“I guess it’s kind of fitting,” Denise said, grinning as she pushed the acoustic guitar case toward me without explanation as to why it was fitting. “Happy birthday?”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“I know you’re not turning 13 for another month,” Denise said, “But there’s a story behind this guitar, if you’re still interested in learning, of course. If not, I’ll keep it for myself because it’s a hell of a guitar,” she teased.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, “No, thank you, I am dying to learn!” I squeaked and hugged her tight. “Thank you!”

“I’ve been trying to get the owner to sell it to me for awhile now, and when I told her it was for my wife’s brother’s kid to learn on, well, that changed everything. She practically gave it to me, just made me promise to wait and tell you the story behind it after you turned 13.”

“Weird,” I said, but shrugged. “But yeah, I can’t wait to hear it though!” I said, and hugged her again. “When can you start teaching me to play?” I asked.

“Well,” Denise said, glancing at June, “That‘s up to your aunt June.”

“Elaine and Chris won’t be available to talk for a few hours,” June said, and shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve already ordered pizza, should be here in ten. So, right now?”

“Yay!” I said and rushed inside, but I didn’t open the case until I knew where Denise wanted to set up for our first lesson so I had no idea what to expect, or even what kind of guitar it was. I just knew that it was mine, and I would never, ever let it go.

Denise got out her Martin D-35 and we went out to sit on the back patio together, where I finally got to open my guitar case for the first time. Inside was not the standard blonde spruce top I was used to stereotypically seeing, but instead it had a rich, dark patina, almost cedar or amber like, and the pickguard was a dark red glossy rosewood that matched the body back and sides. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt myself tearing up.

“Oh my Gosh, it’s gorgeous!” I finally managed. I had no idea that Denise had literally just given me a $4,000 guitar, or just how spoiled I was in that moment. I very cautiously pulled it out of the case, and noticed it had a white guitar strap already attached to it. The strap had a little pink rose design on each of the white leather ends where it went over the strap button, so that the button protruded through the flower.

“You must have spent a fortune on this Denise!” I said, hugging the guitar close to me like it was the most valuable thing in the world - because to me it was. I knew how valuable her guitars were, and this looked every bit as expensive as any of hers to my young mind.

“It’s like I said,” Denise said, shaking her head, “She wanted you to have it. Now, let’s get you started playing it,” she said. “First I want you to place your first finger here, right up next to that fret wire, and really curl that first knuckle. There you go.”

Following that first lesson and lunch, I spent the next two hours straight just practicing strumming. Denise had taught me this really neat trick where if you make an open ‘E’ cowboy chord, you can move your hand up the fretboard to the third and sixth frets and get a very cool sounding version of 4 Non-Blondes’ “What’s Up?” And when my fingers were just too sore to keep playing anymore, auntie Denise and Auntie June took me to the local mall to get my ears pierced.

Auntie June called it a rite of passage, that no matter what happened, she was going to at least make sure I got to spend the summer being the happiest girl in the state. But, I already was thanks to Aunt Denise! Still, I was excited to have my ears done since all my female friends had pierced ears, some as young as when they were 7 even. We even picked up a couple of tops for me to mix in with my usual tee shirts and jeans, and my very first dress so that I could wear something nice to dinner that night to celebrate.

They were really, really confident that my parents were going to be okay with everything, and, it turns out, they actually were. They embraced the idea, only complaining that I should have trusted them more and said something sooner. Mom even promised to fly out next weekend to see me, and take me to see a doctor up in Boulder.

Everything was just going so perfectly, but I was so exhausted that night that I hadn’t even noticed my new guitar, which I dutifully put back in its case so it would be safe when I wasn’t playing it, was now sitting out of the case and leaned against the wall instead. I mean sure, I glanced at it briefly, but I convinced myself that surely I’d just thought I put it back in the case, or maybe auntie Denise had taken it out for some reason.

That night was when the really weird stuff actually started.

I fell asleep quickly, but woke up at some point during the night, moon beams pouring through the curtains of my big picture window. My window had a window seat with a thick, comfy padding, and as I stirred, I heard guitar strings being played. I opened my eyes, and for just a second, I could swear I saw the silhouette of a girl sitting on my window seat, playing a guitar - my guitar.

I rubbed my eyes, and the music stopped. I looked around the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. I looked over at my guitar, and it was still leaning against the wall. I got up out of bed, padded across the plush carpet, and gently placed it back in its case. This time, I latched the little TSA lock that auntie Denise had given me one of her spare keys to, just to be extra sure, and then crawled back into bed.

The next morning, the case sat open, and the guitar had been leaned against the window seat, exactly where I saw the silhouette the night before.

“What is going on...” I said quietly, more than a little spooked as I picked up the guitar and strummed a couple of bars of “What’s Up?” again, since it was the only song I knew. As I sat there, I felt a sense of ease wash over me, the uneasy fear just completely disappeared.

Auntie Denise appeared in my doorway, holding a wooden guitar stand the same color of the pickguard on my guitar, and brought it over to me. “If you’re anything like me,” she said, “You’re going to keep that thing out on a stand all the time so you can always grab it and play it as you walk by. So, I got you a stand to keep it on,” she said, setting it on the ground beside me.

“Thanks Aunt Dee,” I said as I carefully set the guitar on its new stand and then got up to hug her. I decided not to mention the weirdness for now. I didn’t figure she’d believe me anyway, and instead followed her out of the room, heading down to get breakfast.

My new guitar and I, which I named Rose, after the pretty rose strap it had come with, were inseparable after that. Except for when I’d go for a jog in the morning, if I was at home Rose was with me. If I was watching TV, Rose was across my lapp and being played, so I developed pretty fast. Not to say I was some kind of child prodigy or anything, but practicing 4-6 hours a day does that no matter who you are.

I hadn’t met any other kids my age yet, but my aunts told me a lot of them were just on different summer vacations, like girl scout camps, basketball, even a photography camp over at the state university campus, so, I was a little surprised when out on my jog maybe a week and a half later, when I saw a girl my age was sitting on the front porch of a big old three story house playing an acoustic guitar that looked a lot like Rose.

She had her long black hair in a French braid, and she was wearing a Minnie Mouse tee shirt and plaid pink shorts, and looked just as normal as any other tween girl you’d see, so I walked over to her to say hi.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully as she noticed me, giving me a bright smile.

“Hi there,” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything. I just didn’t know there was anybody else my age around, with all the camps and stuff going on.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It gets pretty quiet until the 4th of July.” She shifted in the big old porch swing and then patted the spot beside her. “I’m Sarah,” she added.

“Nice to meet you,” I said as I sat beside her. “I’m Cassy. I love your guitar. You play beautifully.”

“Oh, thank you,” Sarah brightened and giggled. “I just got it for my birthday. Do you play?” she asked, offering it to me.

“Only a little,” I said. “My auntie Denise is teaching me.”

“Come on,” she said, “I want to hear you play something. You heard me playing already,” she said, almost begging, so I took the guitar under my arm. It felt so familiar, just like Rose, actually. I got a small cold chill, but I figured it was just because they were the same type of guitar, a Taylor 814CE with rosewood body and pick guard. The only difference was the top looked like the usual blonde spruce I was used to seeing.

“Let’s see,” I said, “How about,” and I started playing “Country Roads”. She giggled and even joined in singing with me as I played. When I finished, I gave the guitar back to her. “You know, I have my new guitar back at my house. If you want you can come over and we can jam sometime.”

“Oh,” Sarah said, “No, I’m not supposed to leave the house while my parents are gone. Thank you though,” she said. “That means a lot to me. If... If it’s okay, you can stay and just talk to me for awhile, keep me company?” she asked. She almost had a kind of sadness in her voice that I didn’t fully pick up on, but even as a kid, I could tell she didn’t want to be alone at least.

“Sure,” I said warmly. “Let me just text my aunties so they know I’m okay,” I said, pulling out my phone, while she began to play a song I didn’t recognize.

“I walk a lonely road. The only one that I have ever known,” she sang softly.

I occasionally saw Sarah again after that, usually on my morning jogs. Sometimes she’d just be sitting in the window of her house upstairs. She’d wave at me as I jogged past, and I’d stop and wave back, point to the door and motion with a knocking gesture, to ask if I could come in. She’d shake her head sadly and step away from the window. Other times, she’d be out on the front porch though, and we could talk again.

Finally, July 2nd, my 13th birthday rolled around. I already got what I really wanted a month early, but my parents flew out to see me, too, and Mom took me to the big city for a mother daughter shopping trip - but Aunt June and Aunt Denise came, too.

As we were driving back home, we passed Sarah’s house. Before I could point it out to them, because I wanted to tell them that was where my new friend lived, auntie Denise, who was sitting in the back with me, sighed sadly.

“I guess I need to tell you the story behind your guitar, now that you’re 13. I think the reason Bethany wanted me to wait is because Sarah was 13, too.”

“Was?” I said, confused.

“Yeah. She lived at that big three story place we just passed. She loved that guitar, so much. She took it everywhere,” Denise said. “Well,she was staying with her grandmother and... there was a house fire. Sarah didn’t make it out, but they found the guitar almost completely unscathed, just... taurified. I’ve been trying to get Bethany to sell it to me so that I could find it a good home, and when I told her I wanted to give it to you, she asked how old you were. I said it was for your 13th birthday, and... Yeah.”

Denise put an arm around me. I was literally shaking.

“That’s not possible,” I said softly. “Sarah... I just talked to her yesterday,” I whispered.

Denise stared at me, looking paler now. “Sweetheart, Sarah died ten years ago.”

That night, before going to bed, I sat down on my window seat and picked up my guitar. I strummed the chords to the song Sarah liked so much, ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’. “Sarah,” I said quietly, “if... If you can hear me, I just want you to know, I love your guitar so much. I promise I’ll take the best care of it for you. I am so, so sorry you died,” I said softly, fighting back tears.

“Hey,” I heard Sarah whisper in my ear. I blinked and looked up. She was sitting next to me, smiling. “Don’t cry for me, Cassy. Because of you I can finally rest, knowing my baby is in good hands. I have to go now, but we’ll see each other again someday,” she said, standing.

She bent down and planted a kiss on my lips. I closed my eyes to blink away tears, and when I opened them again, she was gone.

I never saw Sarah again after that, but I did go and visit her mom, Bethany. I also visited the place where Sarah was laid to rest, and now I take her pink roses at least once a month. I know she’s at rest now, and I don’t do it just for her. I do it for the memory of our friendship.

What’s funny is that Bethany became kind of a surrogate mom to me, probably because she has another daughter my age, and a son that’s a couple of years older than us both at 15. Life moved on, but she never forgot Sarah, and now, neither will I.

And, yes, I am living full time as Cassy Marie Teegan. I start Black Forest Prep Academy in the fall with my new friends, and I’m even thinking of forming a band with them. Not sure how that’s going to work with me being attached at the hip to Rose, but hey, this was Sarah’s guitar. I’ll find a way to make it work.