18. Gemma
Chapter 18
Gemma
I slide the paper tray of the big, clunky Risograph printer closed with a snap and hit the power button. First of the month is always a busy time for me, and January even more so.
It’s our first quarterly ‘Zine of the year, and I’m really proud of this one. Students submitted essays and stories, poetry and art, on the theme of endings and new beginnings last quarter and the best of the best are now loaded and ready to be pressed onto sheets by the printing drum for binding and distribution.
My contribution, a story called Into the Mist , tells the journey of a woman preparing to graduate with too many options in front of her. Too many decisions to make. The story ends with her packing her few belongings into a backpack and launching her tiny sailboat from the harbor and off into the morning fog.
After Taylor read it last month, he asked if that was a happy ending or a sad one.
I didn’t have an answer.
The buzz and thump of the printing drum starts its rhythmic song as I stand back and wait for inevitable jams and toner reloads.
Until then, I’m left with my thoughts.
These days, they’re both a fun and sexy place to be…and an anxious one.
I should be celebrating. My roommates sure seem to think I’ve hit the jackpot with Ainsley, and I can’t argue there.The way he strolled from my bed to Taylor’s parent’s house, like he’s already part of the family, felt so comfortable. So right.But that could just be his good upbringing. He seems like a person who could walk into any room and set everyone at ease. I’ve watched him do it enough times now to know it’s not a fluke. He really does get along with everyone.
Except Taylor.
I smile to myself as I accept the first pages, still tacky with the colorful ink from the beautiful cover design, and set them on the counter to dry.
Taylor doesn’t get along with everyone. He’s very particular about his humans and only gives the time of day to people he thinks are genuine and worthwhile.But I’ve never seen him antagonize or even engage with someone he didn’t like. He’s more of a silent treatment kind of disapprover. On a few of the first dates I’ve chosen for us, Taylor found the guy unworthy of me or us and clammed up and glared at the poor man for the length of a drink or a meal or whatever torture I chose.
With Ainsley, he’s doing the opposite. He dives headfirst into conflict with the guy at every possible moment—sometimes quite literally.
I have to laugh as their naked fist fight plays in my head, something that’s been happening all day. The way they took the stakes of their competitive natures to a breaking point—and then used all that energy on me. Let’s just say I wasn’t disappointed.
The printer and I start to find our pace, a dance I know well after years of printing my quarterly ‘Zines. It’s wild to think this might be one of the last editions. I never found anyone passionate enough about the project to volunteer so much of their time and energy into continuing it.
But it’s been a lifesaver for me.
During my first few lonely quarters at the university, after moving myself across the country, far away from everything and everyone I knew, I desperately needed a way to connect with the people around me. Posting my poetry on Instagram never gave me the connection I desired, and so many of the students in my department were just there taking the basic requirements for other degrees. What I thought would be a dive into the culture and community of the Pacific Northwest art scene started to feel like an enormous mistake.
I made the first edition in secret using the laser printer in the English department office where I did work-study as a TA. It was a few of my own poems, stories and art donated by my friends from classes, and a title I’d come up with at the last moment: Moon ‘Zine.
The ‘Zine was small and looked as far from a legit publication as it could, with its black only print and messy, hand-stitched spines.But that little booklet was what got me talking to other artists and writers at the university, and it was what brought me through the doors of The Stone Moon for the first time.All I wanted was a small space on the counter to offer my free publication. What I found in that shop changed my life.
Marisol let me leave my booklets and offered me a free tarot reading as part of a promotion she was running for her grand opening. That turned into a friendship, which turned into a part time job, which led to a room in her house, getting me out of the loud but lonely dorms and into a space where I could focus on creating.
And it gave me the tarot.
I can’t imagine my life without the guiding spirit of the cards now. I was lost and tarot helped me find my way. It showed me that we are all connected. We all share the same joys and struggles. It gave me the courage to speak about my life and what I needed. It showed me that being alone is a choice I’ve been making since losing my mother and becoming the ward of a rich family who did their best to be kind but were probably just trying to avoid litigation after the tragic accident. Tarot showed me that I didn’t have to make that choice anymore.
I met Taylor on a rainy day in March the following year.I’d pulled my own cards that morning, wondering about my future. I was looking at my last year of undergrad and unsure if I’d ever be able to support myself with writing.I pulled a three-card spread asking for a spotlight on my path forward for the next school year. I drew the Knight of Cups, romantic opportunities forthcoming, and The Magician, manifestation and already having all the tools you need.Excitedly, I flipped the third card and found myself staring at Wheel of Fortune, a card I rarely choose for myself. It’s good and bad luck intertwined, the idea that big changes are unavoidable. It tells the reader that what’s coming is beyond their control.When I set all three powerful cards together, I saw the possibility of a romantic figure approaching, one with the power to change my whole world. And I saw that, while our meeting was fated, it carried both opportunity and risk.
The reading was still in the front of my mind when a tall, dark stranger sat down next to me at the university bookstore cafe the next day with a cup of black coffee and a copy of the Moon ‘Zine.
Taylor brought into my life a stability I’d never experienced before. The man likes only a handful of things in life, loves even fewer. But the things he chooses, he champions with a blind, pigheaded devotion that feels like the headlights of heaven shining on you and you alone.I basked in the attention, the confidence, the ability to tell the truth about things for what felt like the first time in my life.
And I blossomed.
When I lost my mother at such a young age, I lost the solid ground of unconditional love and support I hadn’t even realized she gave me. It made all of life difficult, but decision-making most difficult of all. I saw how far I could fall for the first time and it’s not something I ever forgot.
Until Taylor.
I stack the pages and start preparing for the long process of folding and binding by hand. I printed over a hundred copies this run, and I’ll do another hundred tomorrow, spending the next few days making my rounds to drop the books off at various shops and departments around campus and our neighborhood. I could ask for help, especially with the delivery, but it’s my favorite part.
In all the years I spent scribbling poems and stories in my notebooks and typing frantically away at novels that would never escape my hard drive, I never imagined that doing the impossible—sharing my work—would be the thing that actually helped me get better and grow my art. It’s why I chose to go into publishing. I know there are hundreds of writers out there who, just like me, fail to understand that the scariest step is the one that will start them up the staircase to their dreams.
You learn a lot by writing a book or completing a collection of poems, but you can never know how your art will interact with the world, how it will change people’s lives, how it can grow your knowledge of the human experience, until you release it.
This ‘Zine was my way of releasing mine, and I’ve been able to offer countless other writers and artists the opportunity to feel the same when their work graces the pages of these quarterly editions. But there’s even bigger opportunities out there for the talented authors of the world, and I know my future lies in helping them get their books published on the world’s stage.
It’s funny how being in a stable, loving relationship can help you see yourself clearly enough to find your path in life but also cloud the waters when it comes time to make big leaps.
Some things you just know are right, like when I met Ainsley again in that bar and brought him into our home. My heart and my gut agreed, so I went headfirst into the great unknown.
But there are other things.
Things my heart and gut are telling me.
Things my loving partner, friends, and mentors would sign off on in an instant.
But I still can’t bring myself to speak them aloud, let alone do them.
What do you do when you see everything you want, but you already have everything you wanted, and the two don’t seem to match up?
I’ve been pulling cards all winter that have assured me I’m on the right path. That big changes are coming and it’s only going to bring Taylor and I closer. That I can follow my intuition and my dreams even when it feels scary.
But now that I have this little ember of love blossoming with Ainsley, and I’m watching the two men figure each other out, I can’t help but wonder if I read the cards all wrong.
The acceptance letter burns a hole in my pocket as I let myself dwell on worst case scenarios.
My Magician promises magic and manifestation of hopes and dreams, but he also has everything he requires already, right there on his table. What if I throw him a curveball and it turns out he doesn’t need me at all?
My Fool is joyously starting a new journey, fresh faced and bright eyed. When he touches me, I light up in ways I’ve never imagined. When he smiles at me, I feel the soul connection I’m sure is several lifetimes old.
This love could be the good fortune my readings predicted.
If I’d only waited to send out applications, I’d still have everything.
But I didn’t wait.
And now there’s something else I want.
Something I might only be able to chase if I give up everything.
I jump a foot as the heavy metal door swings open behind me and hits the stopper with a bang.
“Hey, girl.” Lana, one of my identical twin roommates, announces her presence, strutting into the room in knee high black boots, a short, tight red dress, and faux fur jacket, carrying a tray of coffees.
“You scared the shit out of me.” I laugh and accept the tall, iced coffee with a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“You didn’t think we’d show up on ‘Zine printing day and help you staple all million booklets?” Eva, Lana’s twin in appearance but opposite in fashion sense, takes her own coffeeand shakes her head at me, smiling in her simple jeans and Patagonia jacket. “You thought we’d let you do all this work by yourself?”
“It’s not so bad,” I say sheepishly, fiddling with my straw and glancing over at the ever-growing pile of work drying on the long countertops.
Eva huffs and follows my gaze. “You clearly need help, and we knew damn well you weren’t going to ask for it, so here we are. Put us to work.”
I can’t silence my sigh as I nod. She’s right. I didn’t want to burden anyone with spending their day off slaving away on my project, so I was going to break myself doing it alone. Again. Maybe that’s part of the reason no one has stepped up to take over as editor of the Moon ‘Zine when I retire at the end of spring quarter. I wonder if I’d reached out in the first place and made printing day a team effort—a party—if it would seem like less of a slog. But it’s too late to criticize my last few years of behavior now. Not that I won’t be doing so in my mind for…well, forever. Add it to the list of things I’ve done wrong.
“You’ve got purple ink on your cheek,” Lana says, stepping forward to trace the stain with one long, black pointed fingernail.
I try to wipe it off with the back of one hand, but she shakes her head, smiling. “Too late. It’s dried on. You’re going to be purple for a while.”
The girls throw on gloves and start the long process of stacking and stapling while I keep the printer humming along.
“How did you ladies end up with a Tuesday afternoon free to staple ‘Zines?”
Lana shrugs. “Marisol said she didn’t need us to come in.” She tosses a glance at her sister over the copier that you’d have to be blind not to read. “Again.”
My forehead creases with concern. “Shop is still slow, huh?”
“Marisol thinks it’s the holidays. Everyone busy and whatnot.”
What she doesn’t say, but all of us are thinking, is that December and January are usually some of the busiest months for shopping and readings. People need gifts, and they’re desperate for guidance in the new year. Something changed this year, and it’s got all of us concerned.
“It’ll pick back up,” I offer stupidly, worry clouding my mind.
“Once we get these Moon ‘Zines on the counter, the place will be flooded with customers,” Eva teases, tossing a few finished copies in the waiting box.
“Speaking of which…” Lana starts, and Eva tries to hide her giggles at her sister’s less than smooth segue. “We encountered a fair-haired prince in the hallway the other night. Care to share any salacious details?”
I blow out a breath, feeling myself blush slightly. “He’s the fool.”
The twins each let out murmurs in different pitches, neither of them positive.
I laugh and shake my head. “There’s nothing wrong with the fool.”
“No, not if you’re into all that new journey stuff,” Eva concedes. “Me? I need a king. Someone who’s got shit figured out.”
“I’ll take the devil,” Lana says, surprising no one.
“Ainsley’s…special,” I say finally after pondering it for a moment. “I think he’s the one.”
“Girl, you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment with proclamations like that. You gotta take it slow.”
“It’s different this time. He just strolled into my life like he’s always been there. I don’t feel like I’m meeting for the first time at all. Actually, I’m not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Past life?” Eva asks, in no way joking. These two are as woo-woo as they come, and meeting a lover from a past life would be perfectly reasonable to them .
“My mom worked in his father’s house when I was growing up.”
Lana stops mid staple and glares at me. “The house where she died in some tragic ‘accident’ and left you an orphan? I thought the kids of those rich people were worthless and spoiled.”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “It was the house before that one. The one where she got fired for drinking on the job. I think that’s what she got fired for, anyway. She didn’t exactly tell me.”
“Okay, so, this new guy is the son of one of the rich fucks your mom used to clean for, and you lived in his house?”
“Yup. I remembered him, but he didn’t remember me. I actually spotted him when he first transferred to U-Dub a few years back. He was in a lecture class I TA’ed for. I knew the second I saw him he was that kid from the estate. He looked just as lonely as he did back then.”
“And as handsome?”
I shrug. “So, you approve?”
“We approve of you fucking the guy. We’re less sure about you deciding he’s the one and changing your whole life for him. I mean, you’ve already got a lot going on with your magician. Have you told him, by the way?”
“I think he knows after the two of them tag-teamed me the other night.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Eva says.
I can feel her stare, but I don’t turn around. “I’m going to talk to him soon.”
The twins click their tongues disapprovingly in unison.
“It’s going to be fine.”
“Yes, it is,” Eva agrees. “But it’s going to be hard first, and adding another dick to the mix isn’t going to make it any easier.”
“I don’t know, you guys. I think I may have found the perfect mix of dark and light energies. You should have seen the magic we made in bed the other night.”
Eva opens her mouth to object, but Lana shoves her to the side. “Lecture over. Tell us everything.”