Remix Chapter 13 Euphoria
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Remix, Chapter 2: Bass Line free porn video
Remix, Chapter 2: Bass Line
By Brevdravis
Hubbard hadn't been gone more than five minutes, when James saw
familiar shape of his mother in the hospital room's doorway. She stared
at him with a sad look in her hazel eyes, before moving into the room
without a greeting. Anne walked to the side of James' bed, and reached
down to take his hand. She held it in both of hers, her eyes closing
slightly. She took a deep breath, before she spoke, with the air of one
who is about to announce a death.
"James, I'm so sorry." The words were hollow to James. There was no
apology that she could give that would eliminate the "problem", as he
had begun to name it in his internal monologue.
Anne stood there for several minutes, just holding his hand. In a way,
James was comforted by the touch, and the affection that his mother was
showing him. She hadn't shown that affection in years. His multiple
trips home and constant fighting with her husband had taken their toll
on the relationship. All of that was gone now, the years melting back
to a time when he was, first and foremost, her son.
"I don't know what to say, honey." Anne commented again, looking down
at James. "I mean, this isn't something in my field."
"It's not in mine either mom, but I think I'm going to be an expert on
it." James replied, trying to make light of the situation. Anne had had
longer than he to come to grips with the situation; dealing with it
since this morning.
"I know you're scared honey." she stated, seeming to not hear his
words. "I think the most important thing for all of us is to keep you
safe during this, uhm..." She broke off, unsure of how to continue.
"Mom. Can we just put this out in the open?" James said, unwilling to
continue with the euphemisms. "I'm going to change. I'm going to turn
into a woman."
"Well, yes." Anne shook her head, seeming about to burst into tears.
"I'm so sorry."
James looked into the face of his mother. He hadn't felt so badly for
her in years. Perhaps it was the depth of emotion that she was showing
him, but he felt the need to comfort her.
"I think you deal with it ok, mom." James tried to put on a brave face,
to say the words that she needed to hear. Inside, his mind was still
racing with the urge to scream. A maelstrom of thoughts was engulfing
his soul, unwilling to accept the rational answers that his mind was
trying desperately to reach.
"Oh honey, it's not that. I'm just so worried about you." She pulled a
chair over next to the bed and sat on it, still clasping his hand. "I
can't, I mean, I don't..." She paused for an instant before continuing,
"I want you to know that you can ask me anything. I mean that."
James wanted to spit out a sarcastic remark. His bitterness towards his
parents was still an automatic reflex that wanted to go off.
Consciously he yanked back the thought, along with his denial, trying
instead to focus on what she was saying.
"Thanks, mom." the only words that came from his mouth were the ones
that he would indeed have spoken at sixteen. It was all that he could
say. He spoke them with a calm cadence, trying to keep the panic he
still felt out of his voice.
"I don't hurt or anything." He went on, trying to convince himself as
much as her. "I mean, I itch all over sometimes, but it seems to go
away just as fast as it starts." That was true. It felt sometimes like
a section of his skin would burst into flames, but as he moved to
scratch the skin, the burning sensation would vanish.
"That's good. Doctor Hubbard says that it should only take about a
month till you're back to normal."
"Yeah, he told me."
"Have you thought about how you feel about this?" Anne's question was
piercing. James suddenly realized that this was one of his mother's
probing questions. He recalled as a younger man being thrown into
therapy numerous times after just such a question. The last time had
been right before he moved out. Oh, and a fat lot of good that did him,
James thought, remembering how close he had been to ending his life.
"I'm scared." That answer seemed non-committal. At least it might stall
her for a while.
"Anything else honey? I mean, this is a really big change." Anne said
it like they were talking about getting his hair cut. The detachment
was obvious in her voice.
"I'm glad. Glad I'm not going to die." That was the truth. Even if he
had to deal with a few curves... Ugh, James grimaced at the unfortunate
unintentional joke that his mind had produced.
"I heard what you said to the doctor." Anne said, her voice taking on a
frosty tone. "I need to know that you're going to be okay with this."
James' free hand came up to pick at a loose wire on his braces that had
been bothering him. The wire bent away from his gums, relieving some
slight pain.
"I'm not sure, mom. I mean, this is still kinda weird to me." An
understatement if he had ever made one, of course. Visions of mental
institutions were dancing in his head, and he knew that he could not
give the slightest hint of what the truth really was.
"Would it help if I said that half of the people in the world are
women?" Anne said, her voice lightening slightly. James knew he had
passed the danger zone. She was concerned, but the look in her eyes
told him that she was moving past the psychotherapist reflex.
"More than that. I remember the Keezer saying something about women
making up fifty-two percent of the world." The Keezer had been Mr.
Kezarian, one of the instructors at the high school that he had
graduated two months previously. James remembered that he had hated the
Keezer, and making a joke of his name would help to show that
everything was fine.
"How did that come up?" Anne questioned, her curiosity peaked.
"I don't remember."
"Speaking of which, have you thought about how this is going to affect
your schoolwork?"
"I didn't really. I haven't given it much thought, I mean."
"I think we might want to consider you taking some time off."
"Time off?"
"Well, you're going to need time to adjust to everything."
James groaned, trying to think fast. Dear god, the last thing that he
needed was to spend a year puttering around his home town of Monterey.
There was even less to do there than in Idaho! The last thing he wanted
to do was to spend another year drifting along, doing some menial job
while he wasted his free time with the Alvarado Street crowd.
Remembering how his acquaintances had treated the women in his little
circle, the prospect was even less palatable.
"I think I should still go to Moscow." The words were plain, unadorned.
"Honey, I know you want to, but there's still next year."
Another year, hanging around his home on the hill. Waiting for college
to start while his step-father Randall and his bitch of a sister Elaine
mocked him. That wasn't going to happen.
"Mom. I know you want me at home right now." James chose his words
carefully. "But look at it from my point of view. I've got my diploma.
Sitting around this town waiting to adjust isn't going to do me any
good."
"But there's so much you don't know about..." Anne broke off her
comment, trying to find the right words.
"Being a girl? Mom, I may be turning into a, uh, female, but that
doesn't make me a girl."
"James. Are you listening to yourself? Being a female doesn't make you
a girl?
"I'm not! I'm always going to be me. James. I may not have the same
body, but it's going to be me." And I'll be the biggest fucking dyke on
campus, he added silently.
"But it's dangerous. You could get yourself killed, or robbed or..."
Anne said, looking into her son's eyes again. There was a real fear
present in them. James knew the last word that she had left out without
her even saying it. Raped. That's what she thought. Too late Mom, he
silently cursed. It happened to me as a guy. This time I'm ready for
anything they throw at me and I don't care if I do have to get along
with a pussy.
"I think I can take care of myself mom."
"Are you sure? I think you should take some time to think it over."
"I don't need to. I know right now." He glanced at the door and the IV
still in his hand. "Can we get out of here soon? I'm starving."
"They were just waiting for us to talk." She stood and walked to the
door, returning with a small bag that James recognized as a bookbag he
had used for years before it had finally split its seams. "I brought
some clothes for you from home."
"Thanks. Uhm, I guess I'll meet you outside." He said, opening the bag
that his mother had just handed to him.
"Alright. You'll be ok?" Anne asked, standing.
"Yeah."
Anne nodded, turning to leave the room. As she did so, a nurse in
scrubs came in. The nurse barely looked at James, merely removing the
IV with a brief tug and covering the slight wound with a bandage. She
made a note on her clipboard, and left as suddenly as she had arrived,
closing the door behind her.
Unsteadily, James swung his feet to the right, and lowered them to the
chill surface of the floor. He stood, and pulled the hospital gown up
and over his head, not bothering to undo the laces. He looked down at
the youthful body that greeted his gaze. He ran his view over the
chest, that was so smooth compared to the hairy one that he had had
only a few days before. It was true that time did make its impact upon
men, but he was amazed at how, well, for lack of a better term, slim
his body seemed to be. Shucking the thought he rapidly dressed in the
jockey shorts, followed by a white t-shirt underneath a red polo shirt.
The blue jeans were next, rising up, and coming to rest. He zipped up,
noting a slight tightness about the hips. White socks and tennis shoes
were the next item, and he rapidly tied each shoe after pulling them
on. Then, at the bottom of the bookbag, James spotted his old leather
jacket.
He pulled it out, noting with amusement the cut-off left sleeve. When
he had been younger, The Road Warrior had been his favorite movie. As a
result he had snipped and tied the left arm of his leather jacket in
order to be more like his hero. Of course, doing that with a bomber
jacket just made the effect look silly. He slid the jacket on, pulling
his hair out of the way. Smiling, he unzipped one of the top pockets
and removed a light tan rubber band. Pulling his hair back, he deftly
wrapped the band about the strands, forming a quick ponytail. Zipping
up the bookbag, he slung it over his left shoulder and marched to the
door.
He paused at the door, looking back into the hospital room. It was not
perfect, but it would have to do. The same as the rest of his life.
Smiling at his pathetic bit of philosophy, he opened the door, and
stepped into the hallway. He noted the nurse's station, and his mother
standing at it. He waved with one hand as he pulled the door shut
behind him. He walked briskly up to Anne, who was signing a piece of
paperwork. She nodded at the nurses, and turned to James.
"Ready?" She inquired, gesturing in the direction of the exit. James
merely nodded in reply, and followed her as she began to walk. They
passed several corridors, all with the blank and isolated look of a
standard, boring hospital. They soon arrived at the main entrance, and
pushed open the double doors into the warm California sunlight.
James looked out over the small rolling hills, that were visible here.
The hospital was on the edge of a small town, and the waving blond
color of the grass reminded him of his own hair. He continued on,
following his mother towards a large white station wagon with wooden
runners on each side. Well, not wooden, but plastic painted to look
wooden. He smirked, as he got in to the plastic coated front seat. You
had to love the cars of the eighties.
The car started immediately, and Anne shifted the car into reverse,
backing it out of the parking spot. She changed gears again, and drove
forward. The car left the parking lot, and began to roll down a long,
two lane highway.
James merely stared at the window, watching the fields and hills roll
by. It had been so long since he had really looked at anything. There
was a beauty here that he had failed to appreciate before. Not now.
This time he would live his life to the fullest, and not waste his
time. It took a moment longer for him to realize that Anne was speaking
to him as she drove.
"I'm sorry, what?" James asked, turning his attention back to her.
"I said, I think that Randall might want to hear about your condition
from you, rather than me." Anne commented, concentrating on making the
left turn.
"I don't think I'd be ok with that." James replied, turning to look out
the window.
"Look, James. Randall and Elaine are part of this family too. Just
because you don't get along with them doesn't mean that you can cut
them out of your life. They need to be in on this situation too."
"Oh great! Maybe I can share outfits with Elaine." The sarcastic remark
was out of James' mouth before he realized that he had said it. It had
been common in his later years to reply to anything regarding his
sister with contempt.
"Excuse ME!" Anne said, turning to shoot James a harsh glare. "That was
uncalled for, young man!"
"Sorry." James mumbled, cursing himself for not paying full attention
to what he was saying.
"I think we need a family meeting when we get home."
"Alright."
"Now, do you want to tell them, or should I?"
"Would, I mean, could you please?" James didn't like Randall. In his
mind's eye he pictured the harsh laughter that would probably result if
he just came out and said, "I'm gonna be a girl!"
"Yes. But I need you to be there." Anne said. "It's important that we
get things straight around the house so, uh, nobody's uncomfortable."
Like being stood up in front of his bitchy sister and his psychotic
step-father wasn't uncomfortable enough, oh thanks mom. Unable to say
the true words on his mind, James merely nodded.
The rest of the trip was quiet, as the car drove along the rolling
hills of the Salinas valley towards Monterey. The oak trees that dotted
the road left shadows that drew James's attention. There was something
to look at, at least. The small patches of poison oak along the road,
the fences that separated the golfers from the plebeians. There was an
instant of recognition as they passed his old high school, up on a hill
overlooking the valley. On and on the road stretched, passing the local
airport, and the fairgrounds. The highway turned into a full three lane
overpass, and the car continued on for a while, before taking an exit
into the heart of the city of Monterey. They passed a small park, with
fountains that sprayed water into the air, surrounding the local
cemetery, before moving on to the main thoroughfare. Hotels and gas
stations were the main view here, but the car turned and began rapidly
ascending a hill. Several streets up, and his mother turned right, and
he could see his home, a small two story building that looked out
towards the ocean. The car pulled into the small driveway, next to the
huge tan truck that Randall used to do his Mobile Mechanic business.
Another truck sat on the street, and James recognized it as the one
that had taken him to Hollister, along with his motorcycle.
His motorcycle sat in the front yard, with a "For Sale" sign on it.
James shrugged his shoulders, and stepped out of the car. At least that
was one thing that hadn't changed.
***
The family meeting was called to order later by the Tribunal. Family
meetings were supposed to be a calm, nonchalant affair, but what almost
always occurred was James sitting in a chair on one side of the room,
and his mother, his step-father, and his sister on the couch on the
other. Over time, James had begun to think of this arrangement as The
Tribunal. Seeing as how the other members of his family always seemed
to agree on every subject, he had learned that the fastest way to get
through a meeting was to shut up and not offer his opinion on any
subject. Tonight however, the Tribunal was not going to be satisfied
with James taking the fifth.
Anne began by summarizing the news. She informed Randall that James had
decided not to go riding with him anymore. Randall responded with a
shrug. Next, the entire group was informed of James' diagnosis. The
terms that were laid out were almost identical to the clinical language
that Dr. Hubbard had used when describing the condition to James.
"Huh? Does that mean he's going to turn into a girl?" Elaine's question
was delivered with a slightly confused tone that was unusual from the
fourteen year old. With her dark hair and short height, she was almost
James' opposite in every conceivable way.
In response, Randall snickered before standing and heading into the
kitchen. "Hey Anne? You want one?" He asked, most likely pouring
himself a drink
"Sure." Anne replied, before addressing Elaine's question. "Yes, honey.
That's exactly what it means."
"Gross!" Elaine's response was quick and pointed. "He's not, like,
going to be going out on dates and stuff with boys?" The look of
disgust on the girl's face was impossible to miss, but James tried to
ignore it.
"Better lock up your boyfriend!" Randall commented, returning to the
room with two small glasses filled with a clear liquid and lemon
slices. He handed one to Anne, before returning to his seat.
James reflected that he had always loathed Randall. His humor was
offensive. His mustache, (which James had NEVER seen him without in 10
years, counting his previous experience) was the most noteworthy
feature on his chiseled face. Obviously Anne saw something in him, but
James had never figured it out. He knew that Randall never hit his
mother, and since his James father had, she probably saw some safety in
him. Of course, that didn't mean James liked him, just that he didn't
hate him as much as he could have.
Anne didn't do James any favors, also ignoring the comments by the
other two members of the Tribunal. She merely stared at James, with a
puzzled look on her face.
"James, you're awfully quiet tonight." She looked at him, waiting for
his input.
James wasn't sure what to do. At this time in his life, he recalled
that he had had a pretty poor rein on his temper. The fact that he
wasn't responding to the digs by either Randall or Elaine was downright
out of character for him.
"I guess I just don't have anything to say, Mom. I'm kinda hungry right
now." James tried, standing up from the chair where he had slumped.
"You mind if I grab something?"
"No, go ahead." Anne responded, watching as James moved to the kitchen.
Entering the small area, James immediately opened the refrigerator, and
spying a leftover piece of chicken snatched the plate it was lying on.
Acting quickly, he slapped the item into the microwave, set the timer
and started the oven. As the item heated, he could hear conversation
from the living room as his family talked. He couldn't make out exact
words, but his sister's voice and his mother's seemed to be the most
common, with an occasional grunt or comment being made by Randall.
With a ding the microwave finished, and James wasted no time wolfing
down the meat. He quickly ran his hands under the tap, drying them on
his pants. As he did so, he noticed how tight in the hips his pants
seemed to be getting. He groaned inwardly, knowing exactly what it
meant.
When he returned to the living room, it appeared that the other three
were wrapping up their conversation. James quickly returned to his seat
near the unlighted fireplace.
"James, honey, I think we really need to talk about college." Anne
stated.
"I still want to go." James' response was short and to the point.
Internally, he was ready to explode. The very concept of remaining in
Monterey was abhorrent.
"I know you do, but it's different now that uhm..."
"Mom, using a euphemism isn't going to negate my apprehension."
"Whoa, somebody swallow a thesaurus?" Randall's comment brought another
inward groan to James. Yes, he did tend to use large words on occasion.
It was a habit he had picked up to grab people's attention in LA. He
desperately wanted to reply to Randal's jibe with "go flagellate
yourself, you myopic troglodyte", but he didn't think that would go
over too well.
As usual, Anne just ignored the comment and continued with the
conversation.
"Alright, James, now that you're going to be a girl, I think I'm being
reasonable when I say I have concerns." Anne's voice had taken on the
legalistic tone that she often used when dealing with school officials.
Her statement, despite its formal tone, brought another snicker from
Elaine, who looked at James with a smug expression.
"It's not like I chose this, mom." That wasn't exactly true. He had
chosen to allow the whatever-it-was to make one change. "I made plans
before this, and I don't want to put my life on hold."
"Even with the fact that you'll be going through some changes?"
"Absolutely."
"And you realize that we have to leave to take you up there in five
weeks?"
"Five? I thought classes didn't start for two months." James' mind
whirled. He recalled that they had taken three days for the drive to
Idaho, but three extra weeks?
"Randall and I both agree that you still need to do Rush week if you
go." Anne's expression did not waver.
"That makes six weeks, mom, not five." No problem, he quickly adjusted.
He would still have to deal with those moronic fratboys, but this time
he wouldn't get his hopes up.
"No, honey, Sorority Rush is two weeks before classes, not one."
"Wait, you want me to pledge a sorority?" James asked, dumbfounded.
"Like the frats are gonna take you." Elaine commented, leaning
backwards with her arms folded.
Another sting that James had to ignore. A sorority had not been in the
plans he had been trying to make.
"I guess." The only response that he could make.
"So, let's make some plans." Anne pulled a small notebook from the
purse near her feet. She flipped through the notes, before settling on
the calendar. She removed a pen and began to write.
"Tomorrow, that's Thursday, you have that appointment to get your
braces removed. That actually is some good news because it saves us a
lot of money." Anne continued, looking at James meaningfully. "The rest
of the week is pretty free up until next Wednesday, when you have an
appointment with Doctor Lindel."
"Wait, who's that?" James racked his memory trying to remember that
name. It sounded familiar but he couldn't place it.
"She's our oh-bee-gee-why-enn, duh." Elaine explained.
"WAIT." James interjected, "A gynecologist? Now?"
"James, she's going to be making sure that you're developing properly.
This is not something..." Anne paused to shoot a poisonous look at
Randall, who had begun chuckling fairly loudly. "I hate to be cliche,
but this is something you're going to have to get used to."
"I... It's just..." James stopped, collecting his thoughts. "I didn't
think I'd have to go until it was over."
"Well, you do." Anne stated, finishing the debate with the
pronouncement. "The next three weeks after that you'll have an
appointment with her once a week. Now, I know we still have to get you
packed for the trip."
"Yeah, I guess." James reflected on the fact that his mother must have
been very busy in the time since she'd learned of his change.
"Alright, now I'm not going shopping for you two or three times, so
we're going to wait until your final sizes before we go."
"Uh, shopping?"
"Cool! Mom, can I come?" Elaine perked up. Her attitude had been one of
dejection and derision, but now that seemed to be giving way to
enthusiasm.
"James, you're going to need a lot of things. I mean, right off the
bat, you don't even own a bra."
The comment brought an outright laugh from Randall, who covered his
face with his hand as he chortled. Anne ignored him again,
concentrating on James.
"A BRA?" James couldn't hold his temper in check much longer, and he
realized that the conversation needed to end soon, before he lost
control. The statement came out as a half question, half shout.
"I thought you could deal with this, James. You have to face certain
realities." Anne's voice was a calm counterpoint to his anger. The
guffawing Randall in the background didn't help much. James tried to
calm himself, thinking of chords. For some reason, the thought of
playing chords on his guitar seemed to work. He took a deep breath,
before responding.
"I can deal with it mom. I just need a little more time." He tried to
insert every ounce of sincerity into the words.
With that final statement, the conversation effectively ended, save a
snide comment from Randall that James ignored. He was allowed to leave,
and immediately proceeded to his room, which was at the top of the
stairs a short ways down the hall from the kitchen. He opened the door,
and peered in.
It hadn't changed a whit from his memory. Everything was there, from
the magazine basket filled with Mad and Air and Space Magazine, to the
bookshelf crammed with far too many cheap science fiction novels. The
carpet was still the deep rust red color, and the walls the white
plaster. He briefly noted the small hole in the wall where he had put
his fist through it in a fit of rage. It was covered over with plaster,
but the indentation was still there. There was no guitar. He hadn't
taken it up until after the Navy. The small window that looked out over
the driveway was closed, but James could still see the ocean as he
looked out over the bay. The house was higher than the rest of the
city, since the city itself was laid out in a slope towards the ocean.
The curve of the beach was visible, and it faded from sight as it
turned north, curving up towards Santa Cruz.
Unable to sustain interest in the sight, James moved over to a small
chair that sat next to a wooden desk. It was old, his parents having
found it at a garage sale somewhere, but it was a place to do
schoolwork. He slumped in the chair, and looked down at his hands. They
were still the same slim hands he remembered from his childhood, but
there was something wrong. It took him a moment to realize it, but the
scar on the back of his right wrist was completely gone. In its place
was new, hairless skin.
***
To be continued
Lizbeth
- 25.01.2022
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