Con Part X

It wasn't the cold, and it wasn't the ringing in my head. It wasn't even the heavy sound of wind that rushed through my ears or the strange heaviness that filled me from the diaphragm down.

It was something simple: my hand. I couldn't move my hand and it was the near panic at losing that sort of control over something so very basic that set my heart to racing and my breath catching in my chest as I tried to sit up.

"Baby, take it easy," Beth's voice soothed, her hands pressed against my chest and as I looked over her head, I saw my brother, my brother whom I hadn't seen since just before Beth, I, we...

"Get your hands away from her - you've done enough."

It was an easy enough story to put together - we'd almost been side swiped on the left side by another vehicle and in an attempt to avoid the car in front of us, the rapid deceleration caused the car behind to slam into us which threw our vehicle into the right lane where we then hit another car, then flipped.

Noah had protected me from the drum case that had tumbled our way, but no one could have prevented my arm from breaking between my body and the second side impact.

And no one could have prevented the internal damaged wreaked by the sharp blow against my lower back.

I myself wasn't permantly injured but...I felt a very quiet sorrow that settled somewhere in my chest when I realized what it meant.

We never made it to the show - and while Noah had shattered an ankle, he could still play. The show would go on without me, I went home, an uneasy truce drawn between my brother and Beth, a heavy cloud over my head that didn't lift, even when ensconced in our bed with the whispered reassurances that the loss wasn't my fault, that in time we'd try again.

It wasn't that I didn't want to do that with her, for her - it was the thought of doing it again, the same way that made me want to scream defiance.

But I knew how emotionally fragile Beth was and for the time being, forebore from telling her that I'd be willing to do anything but that, not again. It had hurt not my body so much, though there had been that, too, but my mind. I was starting to think I still wasn't over the sheer shock of the whole thing.

I tried, in my own way, to suggest we do something slightly different, something not so...well, it didn't matter. Beth was convinced that it was beautiful, that it would be fine, and

I started to cut myself again in places that wouldn't be seen when Beth wasn't home, and once the cast was fully off, I stopped eating.

Con Part IX

Those were perhaps the most perfect days, those few days, that Beth and I ever had, the wonderful, beautiful us I'd always known we could be.

The night before I left, for the first time, Beth cried, not for sorrow nor for rage, but for love, a love I could feel with every part of my being, when she came on me, in me, verbalized the wonder she felt when my body tightened and pulsed around her and when we finally slept, she still rest within me.

"I love you, JayJay," she whispered into my neck and held me close with gentle desperation, the same way she'd made love. "I love you and our baby."

The ride to Rhode Island passed in a blur of high spirits about the gig - and anxiety about the gig - but the four of us balanced each other well, and Noah was almost as careful as Beth in reminding me to drink enough water, eat another something or other.

Noah reached behind the bench in the double row van that held us and our equipment and when he turned back around with a bottle of water in hand, his eyes widened before he lunged forward to grab me and tuck me under him.

Then the world flipped on its back with a sharp, brilliant blasting howl...before it turned silent, warm, and black.

Con VIII

"Aw, honey," he said after placing a warm arm across my shoulders and handing me a blue handkerchief of softened cotton to wipe my face with, "you gonna be okay - you just focus on you, on your melody, baby, breathe into your rhythm - you'll be alright, you'll find your way."

Somehow after talking with Noah, things did seemed to get better, I felt better and as we got closer and closer to the departure date, I cut myself less, ate more, started paying attention to Beth's attentions until one day, about three days before "D-Day" (she called it that because she wasn't thrilled about my going) I felt it, that sense, that knowing: Beth and I were going to have a baby.

For the first time, since I'd been officially told, even after having gone through the first few months, I knew it for myself: I was no longer simply "me," but for a little while, I was an "us;" me and this little thing that was growing under my skin, under my heart...a part of us both.

The how it happened...I couldn't think about, I couldn't let it bother me, because the expression on Beth's face and the way she held my hand as together we listened to that rapid little heart beat that filled the room through the speaker and watchted it, pulsing and alive on the monitor in black and white, made it all worthwhile.

Con VII

It was Noah, Noah Jole, the saxophone player who noticed first.

Beth wanted to tell everyone, but I didn't and for the first time, as far as I could tell, she respected my wishes.

I also didn't want to see my parents or my older brother, didn't want to go out, didn't speak with any of our friends - I'd even stopped giving private lessons - something I'd been doing to earn my daily bread since I was sixteen, while the only reason I dragged myself to rehearsals was because I'd fought so hard to become a part of the jazz combo I now played with - and we were scheduled to go on tour in less than a month - not a large one, to be certain, but it was an important one: we would headline one of the stages at the Rhode Island Jazz fest, then go to Chicago for a BB King tribute.

I didn't understand it, my feelings, either. Beth was perfect, everything I'd always hoped, everything I knew she, no, we could be and more...we were a family...and my career had just taken a very positive turn.

Beth humored my moods and told me it was all a part of the process my body was undergoing and my gp - the one she'd picked - apparently agreed.

One late afternoon, after she'd dropped me off at the local concert stage we rehearsed at, Noah eyed me as he polished the brass of his instrument, the soft chamois rag a caress over the creature he loved to the exclusion of most of the world.

I sat on my stool and tuned my guitar, plucking at the nylon and silver strings, checking the intonation.

"When you due?" he asked me in a soft undertone.

I stared at him.

"C'mon, girl," he said, his voice teasing, rich, and low, "I've got three sisters, two daughters, and three grandbabies. You think I can't see you there, the baby marks all over you? And Beth," he said, and rolled his eyes, "isn't she just so proud? Fussin' over you like...she's..." he put his sax down on the stand and put a hand on my shoulder. "What's the matter, honey? Ain't you happy?"

And much to my horror, I realized the answer even as I tried not to shake my head.

No. I wasn't - not at all.

Con (Part VI)

She was so excited, excited about a child whose hands would match ours, and she wondered aloud while she stroked and kissed my still-flat stomach about eye color, hair color, my mouth or her nose, my talent for music or hers for medicine.

While there were times I'd discuss it with her, the rest of it I felt strangely disconnected, from her, from my body, from the things happening within it.

I found myself contemplating sharp edges, wondering how far, how deep I'd have to cut, how long it would take to fall asleep, and I started experimenting - a slice here, another there, tortured, exquisite lines, designs even, on my forearms where no one could see.

It became my art, my release, proof that I was still alive, because I couldn't feel anything else except the tears and all I could hear whenever I etched another line was a voice from childhood: "You want a reason to cry? I'll give you a reason to cry."

Fuck that. I'd give it to myself.

Get Engaged!

ALC Publishing, the only pubisher of lesbian-themed Japanese comics (called "Yuri Manga") recently launched our newest comc anthology, Yuri Monogatari 6, with 12 stories of lesbian life and live by artists and writers all over the world. 
We know there are a lot of you who would like a copy of the book but, for one reason or another, cannot get it. Maybe you're in school and can't afford it, or maybe you live somewhere where shipping from Amazon makes it outrageously expensive. 
So, we've developed this new Project special for you! 
Here's how it works: 
"Project Engage" is very simple. Use any and all social media you *already use* to promote YM6 and EARN a copy of YM6 for your efforts! 
- Mention Yuri Monogatari 6 in a relevant Forum, Mailing List, Blog post, Twitter about it, or talk about it on your Facebook, MySpace, LiveJournal page, or any other form of social media *that you already use* with a link to either the ALC Page on the Yuricon Shop or Amazon and get *5* points. 
- Embed the Yuri Monogatari 6 video trailer (see below) on the any of the social media *you already use,* and get *10* points. 
- When you have earned *50* points, email us links to these posts, your age and your address at anilesbocon01 at hotmail dot com with the subject line "Project Engage Links" and we'll send you a copy of "YM6!" 
It's that simple. 
Here's the IMPORTANT GUIDELINES YOU MUST FOLLOW TO BE ELIGIBLE FOR A BOOK: 
1) You MUST be 18 or over. There is no exception to this rule. Include your age in your email the first time. Don't make us chase after you for it. 
2) You may not create dummy accounts/blogs or pages for this. If we check and you have no other posts on your blog, or no other posts on the Forum in question, your entry will not count AND you'll make us look bad, like we're spamming the world. So - please only use accounts on places that you already use regularly. 
3) This project is meant to support and promote ALC and YM6. A link followed by a damnation of everything we are doing will not make you any friends. If you want to help us out, we're delighted. If you want us to die a fiery death, don't feel obliged to "help." :-) Lying and cheating to get a book is also not the point. This is to reward folks who *want* to do something concrete to help support us. 
4) All links *must* be verifiable. We're willing to sign up for forums, or friend you, but if you stick them in a private area that no one but you can see, then that's kind of not the point. -_-;; Also, the point is to spread the word, so four links in one page still only count once. 
5) Yes, previous posts, links and embeds count. If you already mentioned YM6 somewhere before today, that is absolutely, positively acceptable. Just collect *50* points worth and you've earned yourself a copy of YM6! 
6) If you are not 18+, please feel free to share links and embeds, but at this time we cannot send you a book. However, your support is still very much appreciated and I want to thank you, so email those links and I'll send you an "I Love Yuri" postcard to show our thanks!
***
Here are the links to share: 
YM6 Video Trailer Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yli_kPSVkFs 
YM6 Video Trailer Embed (use this code -or- if the video loads, click on the arrow icon on the bottom of the video next to the volume control and cut and paste the "embed" code to your blog/page:) 
Yuri Monogatari 6 on Amazon: http://...com/bgnvut
Yuri Monogatari 6 on Yuricon Shop: http://...com/alcpub
***
Project Engage is open to anyone 18 or over. Feel free to get your friends involved. A few of you banding together *can* get a book to share - the point is to get the word out! :-) 
If you have questions, please email anilesbocon01@hotmail.com. Thanks and here's to the success of Project Engage!

Con (Part V)

There were things that changed immediately: how we ate, what we ate; Beth was meticulous and watchful of every single thing that went into my mouth even before the confirming blood-test ten days later.

She paced by the phone after that appointment, had been ready to drive back down to the lab to get the results herself when the phone rang and the voice at the other end told us what she already knew.

There were no more "lost weekends." With the exception of work for either one of us, I have to honestly say she devoted herself to me - and I felt horribly ill about ninety percent of the time and it wasn't simply the nausea and its accompanying joys- it was the horrible headaches as well.

For the first time during the entire time we'd been together, it was finally, finally, just us, just the two of us: no drinking, no strangers, none of the usual things that she always said needed, no crying jags or suicide attempts...

Beth was happy for once, really and truly happy, and things were almost like being eighteen again, vitamins and food - anything she could think of that would tempt me to eat.

She was loving, tender, she relished the changes in my body and was so very, very beautifully gentle when we loved...

But as wonderful as it was, I cried...almost every time.