Turning the Page

by Olivia Gaines

  Soon, she promised herself, there would be something to celebrate and someone special to celebrate with. She just had to be patient. Grammy had taught her years ago not to ask God for something and then sit around like a fool worrying about it. “Let go and let God,” Grandma Pearl always said, and she learned.

  In high school, when the captain of the math club wanted to go all the way and she was not ready, she heeded her Grammy’s words and let Ralph go. The adage still buzzed in her head in college, when the chair of the art department said he would give her a “D” in the class if she would not stay for some extracurricular activities. His activities included helping him relieve the tension in his pants. Jayne took it to God in prayer and left it there. After her professor awarded her the “D” for the course, Jayne took her cell phone and classwork to the Dean and played back the professor’s request. At the end of the conference between the three of them, the Dean and her professor, both agreed she deserved that “A”.

  She loved her Grammy and her wisdom, but Jayne firmly believed that the good Lord helps those who help themselves. Currently, her vision in self-help included a comic book with a kick ass female superhero and matching costume that would be available in local retail stores. Outside of Bling and Storm, there were very few black female heroines in comic books and she wanted to change that. Change would come after she figured out how to make it all happen. She had the talent, but the confidence to do it was another hairy animal.

  In the office, she arrived right on time to her desk, with coffee in hand and still a song in her heart. Today, she was leaving for Columbia, South Carolina to attend an anime conference called Banzaicon. This would be her first conference, or con for short, where she would dress in costume for role play. Jayne had two costumes in her car; one for tonight’s ball and one for judging. The one for judging she had made herself and was rather proud of it. Nothing could ruin her morning.

  Or at least, so she thought. The second hairy animal she had to contend with weekly, was her pod mate and fellow project leader, Frankie Vale, who was a very flatulent man. It did not matter what he ate, or how much or how little he put away. The man was a walking gas giant of methane. It was not just any gas, but the kind of farts that made your eyes water. One day it was so horrendous, she could have sworn his last rip of odiferous death had removed her eyebrows. It made their work relationship contentious. At one point, Jayne had created an online comic strip of Franc the Farter, who was a crime fighter that used noxious fumes to eradicate his enemy. The strip had become very popular, but Jayne forgot to use a pseudonym. Frankie threatened to sue her if she did not take it down. She threatened to sue him for attempted murder with his fumes. He stopped talking to her, relegating their communications to necessity only.

  It did not matter much anymore. She brought a face mask for when they had to work together and often after lunch. She opted to work in the conference room when it was not in use. It was easier for them both and definitely easier on her nose.

  She kept her eye on the clock as she closed out her daily work At 11:58. She yelled into the bullpen, “Have a great weekend!” Jayne had sent in her monies for the cost of admission into the con. It was time to play dress up and Jayne was ready to make her mark.

  - Chapter 2-

  “Professor!” she exclaimed. She stuck her arm high in the air, as if her fingers could touch the ceiling. When she received no response, she called him again stretching her arm even higher, “Professor! Professor!” She was reacting as a small child in need of a bathroom break, wiggling in the seat. Slowly he looked up. First at the clock, then at Mary Elizabeth, whom he privately named The Riddler. As he made his way toward her work station, thoughts of freedom floated through his mind. Only three hours left in the work day.

  “Yes, Ms. Jones? How goes your project?” He looked over her shoulder at the computer monitor, visually perplexed at what he was seeing. Today’s assignment was to draw the Popliteal Fossa to include the nerves, but what he saw on screen closely resembled a diagram on how to steal cable. Stern, firm, and with some tempered resolution, he finally responded, “No, Ms. Jones. You are somewhat off in your drawing. Please consult my instructions and begin again.” Mary Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but the look he gave her provided caution and did not elicit the reaction she wanted. She too was aware that the professor wanted no part of her shenanigans.

  Dr. Toshi Yamaguchi was one, if not the third best, medical illustrator in the country. In his fifth year as Associate Professor at Georgia Regents University in Augusta, he remained firm and detached, but highly proficient in teaching, writing, and publishing. He was on the fast track to tenure. As a Yale graduate, he had many choices of what he wanted to do and where he wanted to teach. At the age of 30, his real dream was comics. In an ideal world, he would be on staff at Marvel as the lead artist for his own original designs and characters.

  In this world, he had broken his wrist in a motorcycle accident, causing some damage to the nerves in his right hand. His parents were broken hearted that he would never be able to hold a scalpel, which was fine by him, but it also limited his ability to hold charcoals, paint brushes, and colored pencils. It wasn’t really such a disappointment to Toshi, since he had not truly wanted to be a doctor. In all honesty, he didn’t desire to be an academic either. Even though he had the letters, people called him doctor, and his parents were appeased. Somewhat. They now craved grandchildren.

  It wasn’t about to happen. He liked being single. He loved the freedom to move about and spend his money as he saw fit. The small student loans he had taken out for his education were paid off. The down payment for his house was still in a bank account drawing interest and there was no one to nag him about where he was going this weekend, or why he was spending so much money on frivolous items so he could play dress up.

  To Toshi Yamaguchi, fandom was about more than dressing up as your favorite hero. Fandom was a way of life, but also an expensive hobby. His girlfriend Ai, often complains when he departs for conferences for several days, stating that he is going to go broke frolicking with his friends. Often he would joke with her about fandom, coming back with a quick retort, “it costs to play with the big boys.”

  Ai reminds him weekly that it costs to play with a grown woman as well. In his mind, Ai was an unwanted expense and a distraction. The sex was mediocre, leaving her place in his space, dwindling in value. Toshi checked the clock again. It was almost time. “Do not forget your homework assignments which are due on Tuesday. Remember the upper and lower lateral and medial borders of the Popliteal Fossa are due in eAssignment and hard copy in color when you walk in the door.”

  Mary Elizabeth’s hand flew up again, but Toshi ignored her. Many of his student surveys would come back, with comments that he appeared to be unfeeling. That was untrue. He felt everything. Right now, the main emotion coursing through his body was disdain. Mary Elizabeth had a crush on him and used any means she could find to get his attention. He’d had it and he wanted her out the door. It was time for the weekend and he had a conference to get to as well as a Samurai suit to get packed. “Have a great weekend,” he told the students as they walked out the door. He looked at Mary Elizabeth, “If you are thinking about how to complete the assignment, then you are thinking too much. Draw, draw, and draw some more.” A quick closing of his MacBook and he was out the door. He popped his head into his office and waved goodbye to the office assistant, Ms. Banks, before heading to the parking garage.

  Before he reached the car, he received a call from Ai. “Toshi, we need to talk.” Again, another distraction. He responded in a quick clipped tone, “Fine. Meet me at 5 at the Soy Noodle House on Broad Street.” He did not give her a chance to respond. He hung up and hurried home. Everything was ready to go, he just needed to load the car. He was on his way to Columbia, South Carolina for Banzaicon. This was the first con where he was entering the costume competition. The larger cons are intimidating to some people and even more so to Toshi as an academic,
but at this con he was ready to take on the challenge. He had never been to a smaller conference and was excited to debut his new Silver Samurai costume.

  In his heart, at each conference he attended, he hoped to find a friend, or someone who understood him. Someone who would appreciate the craftsmanship of his homemade suit. He knew that Ai, was never going to be that person.

  Toshi arrived at the Soy Noodle House at 4:50 and picked a table in the corner close to the window, but also close to the front door. In his mind, this conversation was going to be short. Ai arrived five minutes later, still wearing her work clothing and lab coat. At five foot seven with shiny black hair, a perfect set of teeth and a warm smile, Toshi was filled with regret that he could not find it in himself to love her the way she deserved to be loved. Ai Tomita was a great dentist who was loved by all of her patients, anyone who came into contact with her, and others who thrived just being in her light. Yet for Toshi, he felt dim whenever he was with her; further playing into the irony of their relationship. It was more troubling to him that her name meant “love”. For him, he could only get as far as a cordial fondness for her. She whined incessantly about him being cold and unfeeling, but he did not know how to express to her that he had strong feelings about almost everything else. As she walked up to the door, his heart should have skipped a beat to see her approaching, instead what he felt bordered on apathy.

  He rose to greet Ai, helping her with her chair, before reseating himself. He had already ordered a pot of hot tea. She poured him a fresh cup and one for herself. There it was, that condescending sigh. It was a sound that curled his toes inside his shoes. A sound of disappointment and angst in one exhalation, followed by a cluck of her tongue and a nibble on her bottom lip. Then came the condescending words that grabbed a man by his balls and shook him to his core. The private nickname he had given her was Ball Buster. “Toshi, I was hoping that this weekend you would change your mind about the play thing in Columbia and go with me to Atlanta, to be with our friends.”

  Ai’s condescending attitude had rubbed him the wrong way, especially the way she said play thing. He wondered how much it would hurt her feelings if she knew he felt pretty much the same about her role in his life. At this point in this relationship, Toshi had already resigned himself to be free, which made him fail to filter his words. “I was hoping you would change your mind and come with me.”

  Ai sipped at her tea, “I am sorry, but I must say this. You are going to have to decide Toshi. Either we will have a life together, or you can continue to play your dress up superhero games.”

  “Fine,” he said, as he returned his teacup to its saucer and rose to leave.

  She was shocked. “So does this mean you are coming to Atlanta with me?” He rested his hand upon her shoulder, giving her a saddened look.

  “No, it means that I am headed to Columbia to do my play thing.”

  Ai’s mouth was moving but no words were coming out. Toshi leaned forward, taking her chin in his hand, while pushing the flailing jaws together. “Let me help you Ai. It means that I am not choosing you.”

  She stared at him with lips now taut. He made an attempt to soften the blow. “I like you enough to let you go so that you can be with someone else, who can be all the things you want and need in a husband.” He lowered his head and placed a light kiss upon her cheek. He was going to be late to the ball if he didn’t get a move on.

  Before Ai could say anything to him, he stood in front of the window and took out his cell phone. She watched his practiced fingers move across the screen, and knew he had turned it off for the weekend. It was one of the many traits that bugged her to no end about Toshi, but indecisiveness was not one of them. Once he made up his mind that was the end.

  Toshi Yamaguchi had just dumped her. When he had to make the choice between dressing up as a crime fighting superhero and drawing comics, or being with her, he opted to be the superhero. In her mind, his actions were villainous. He had just made a down payment on a new enemy and she was not going to let this go lightly. There would be no way to explain to her parents how she had managed to run off another potential husband.

  - Chapter 3 -

  At 4:00 pm on Friday afternoon, Toshi dressed as Gambit from the X-Men and headed downstairs to the hotel lobby to mix and mingle with the other conference attendees. Many con junkies came early to meet the prettiest ladies and maybe score a conference hook up. This had only happened twice for him, but he was single again, so his mind was open to the possibilities. Slipping into the black seamless pants, and picking up a deck of cards, he would hold up an ace of spades to any woman who caught his eye. Thus far, there had been only two. So many of these attendees were very young and if any reminded him of a student, he shied away.

  Vendors had set up earlier in the afternoon. At such a small con, there aren’t many writers, artists, or designers present, but Toshi had been tapped to teach two of the classes on Saturday. One in the morning and the other in the afternoon. He was looking forward to it. As he passed by the vendor room, he nearly kept walking but was halted by a vision of delightfulness bent over into a bin of buttons and tchotchkes. In his mind, he hoped it was a woman. The purple Lycra pants, black hair, and a glimpse of side boob said female. It would be most uncomfortable for him if she were not. Feeling confident, he leaned down and whispered close to her ear, “that has to be the most perfect ass I have ever seen.”

  The princess with the perfect posterior turned slowly, raised her body to full height, and faced Toshi with a look of disgust, “you do realize you said that out loud, right?”

  The directness of her tone made Toshi step back. He was also surprised to see that she was a black woman, with a whole lot of attitude. The heels she wore gave her an additional few inches in height, but he imagined her in stocking feet to stand only at five feet maybe four inches. She had full lips and deep, wide set brown eyes that looked like pools of liquid milk chocolate. She had a gap in her teeth and the cutest nose he had ever seen on any woman. Initially, he had thought the hair to be a wig, but as he stared at her, it did not take long to understand it was actually her hair.

  “I meant to say it loud enough for you to hear me,” he added with a cockiness that was unlike him. Being dressed as Gambit, he felt stronger, more powerful, and far more daring than he should. “At least I didn’t ask you to sit it in my lap.” He stood with his legs shoulder width apart, his arms folded across his midriff, calling her out. By making such a bold move, Toshi also noticed that his heart rate had increased.

  Toshi thought she looked extremely hot dressed as Bling, and much like the comic book character, attitude and angst radiated from her. Jayne was staring at the costumed man, but it was unclear if behind the mask he was Japanese or Chinese. What was evident was the man was arrogant and thought she was an easy mark. She moved closer to him, bringing a smaller smile to his face as she extended her index finger, wiggling it, beckoning him to come closer. “I like the costume Gambit and I like how you decided to take a gamble, but I have to let you know something very important.” She paused to drive home the words she was going to hit him with, “but....”

  Toshi leaned closer to hear what she had to say. He placed his hand upon his chest in mock chivalry, but it was really an effort to quell the rapid beating of his heart. She smiled as she delivered the words, “you are an asshole.”

  He reacted as if he had been slapped. She pushed him to the side and walked passed him heading into the conference registration area. He watched her sashay away with more than a casual interest. The initial assessment had not changed. That was still the most perfect ass he had ever seen in his life, but the woman who owned it, was a handful. He found himself with a very wide grin that harbored a very playful thought. That ass was a perfect handful as well.

  Toshi felt stimulated by her. Her words had hurt his feelings. That was something that had never happened before and he did not like the idea of her thinking of him as an asshole. He called after her. “There you go again, j
ust walking away from the team.”

  The lady stopped dead in her tracks. Giving just enough of a turn. “I was never truly a part of the team.”

  She walked away. The faint scent of her perfume still lingered in the air. It was mixed with whatever she used on her hair. Toshi’s body reacted. Emotions flooded through him and confusion was knocking at the chunks of blockades that had grown into his cerebral cortex. He had slept with a black woman before, actually, all races of women, but never really considered it anything other than a physical release. Yet that creamy skinned vixen, moved him. For the first time in several years, he felt something stirring him up.

  This was going to be a great weekend.

  Jayne was an artist and a very good one, but there were two things Jayne was not; easy and easy going. Comic books and painting were her first love, cosplaying was her second, with costume designing coming in a close third. Men were something she had little time for, although her body frequently reminded her of the important role they played in the life of a woman. More so if she planned to procreate. However, children were nowhere on her list of things to get done in her lifetime. Her experience with men had been limited, with only one serious sexual partner to her credit, whom she seldom spoke of nor had many fond memories. Alex had been the first man she been intimate with. Time was moving along at such a clip, that there was little time left to worry about the insignificance of a warm body next to her in bed. Although most conferences served as hookups for the lonely and disenfranchised, for her, this conference was her opportunity to display her newest anime outfit, make a few contacts, and hopefully have a remote chance of winning a prize.