Page 52 of A Fool's Game

Chapter 18

Gemma

Islide 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 calledInto 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—andthen 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 outof 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.

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