As Jill is on the mend, things begin to change, but is it for the better? As always, Karen J and Angharad's assistance in preparing this for release is greatly appreciated.

Changing Keys, Part 6
By Jillian

I spent the next several days lying in bed watching as a flurry of activity went on around me. Doctors and nurses came and went, frequently sticking needles in me to either put something in or take something out. It happened often enough that I started to feel like a pincushion.

All of the girls came by to see me, and Jen and Sarah probably spent almost as much time in the hospital as me. I did something I hadn’t in years, which was read the morning newspaper. I suppose I thought since I was going to be staying in one place for a while I ought to know what was going on.

On Tuesday morning, there was an article about a group of musicians who were beaten rather severely outside a downtown nightclub. All four victims, who were identified as members of the band ‘Kentucky Straight’, were in intensive care for treatment of the injuries sustained. The assailants were unknown, as there were no witnesses save for the victims, and none of them had been able to ID their attackers. The police were unsure what to make of the attack as no money was taken; and rather than stealing the instruments they were carrying, they were instead smashed.

As I read the story I knew who had been behind the attacks as well as why. I didn’t pursue that thought however, as I didn’t want to bring any more trouble to Jen than I had already. Instead, I just moved on and tried not to think about it.

Tuesday also saw my first visit with the psychotherapist. I might have been more nervous had I known she was coming, but then when was the last time someone complained about not having the chance to get nervous? We talked, or at least she talked while I whispered, for about an hour after which she arranged to continue on Thursday and to my great relief she at least provisionally approved the continuation of hormones, pending evaluation by an endocrinologist.

It turned out one of the victims of my attack was my Yamaha guitar. While I was being beaten, so was it; someone took it out of its case and smashed it against the side of the building until the neck broke off. As Jen was telling me this, I found myself overcome with sadness, as if I had just lost a good friend. Maybe I’m a little too attached to my guitars, but for years they were my only friends other than my sister, so I felt like I was somehow justified. This knowledge also helped me understand why my old band mate’s instruments had also been destroyed.

Sarah and I talked a lot about our feelings, and I think we figured out a few things. All in all, things were looking up in that department. That in itself was nearly enough to make me feel well enough to get out days before I was allowed.

Wednesday Shelly tried to smuggle in her torture device, but one of the nurses put a stop to that particular exercise because it could interfere with the operation of some hospital equipment. While I acknowledged that the electrolysis was a necessary part of my continuing transition, that didn’t mean I liked it in any way, shape, or form.

Shelly on the other hand appeared to be enjoying it immensely, which for some reason made me wonder about her and my sister’s activities together. I quickly shook that thought out of my mind for fear I might actually find out, and that would be way too much information.

By Thursday morning, I was back on regular food, was up walking around the ward several times a day; and as long as I didn’t cough or laugh, I didn’t even hurt all that much. After the psychologist and I had our visit the endocrinologist was next to come calling. Following his dissecting of test results from somewhere in the vicinity of three pints worth of blood over the last few days, I was officially put on a properly prescribed dosage of estrogen.

When he made his rounds Thursday, Doctor James’ first words to me were, “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in leaving us tomorrow?”

I barely let him finish his question before I answered, “Well, yeah!”

“Good. You’re doing pretty well, all things considered, and I think we can probably arrange for your discharge after rounds tomorrow.”

“Cool,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to contain my excitement.

“There will be some restrictions on your activity, like no lifting or stiletto heels for at least four weeks,” he joked. I don’t think he realized most of his jokes weren’t terribly funny, but considering he had brought me back from the brink of death, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

“I think I can live with that,” I said, unable to suppress a smile despite the awful joke I was still suffering from.

Just then, Sarah came in the room, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. I can come back in a few minutes,” she said as she started to turn around to leave.

The doctor stopped her, “No need, we’re pretty much done here. I’ll leave you to it then.” He then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Sarah watched him leave, then came over to her usual spot beside my bed and gave me a greeting kiss. “Good morning,” she said as she pulled her chair over right beside the bed and took a seat.

“Yes, it is,” I said, smiling from ear to ear. I could honestly say that this was probably the best I had felt emotionally in years and a lot of that was because of Sarah.

Jen arrived then; once she too was settled I told them, “Well, I had some good news this morning.”

Jen was the first to ask, “Really?”

“If things go according to plan, I should be out of here after the doctor comes by tomorrow.”

Sarah instantly broke out in a huge smile, “That’s great!” she said as she jumped up and kissed me again. I couldn’t help but think, ‘I could get used to this.’

“Good news at last,” Jen added, and gave my hand a squeeze.

As had become our custom, Sarah accompanied me on my walks around the halls, only leaving my side when she needed to tend to personal business or if the doctors asked her to.

We had taken several walks Thursday, and by evening I was feeling quite tired. When dinner was brought in, they actually brought an extra tray for Sarah, for which we were very grateful.

After dinner, we watched TV and chatted until visiting hours were over. As she prepared to leave for the night she said, “You know, if you had told me a month ago that I’d be in love with a woman, I probably would have laughed at you. Heck, two weeks ago even.”

“So, you think of me as a woman?” I don’t know why, but this was one topic we hadn’t explored this week, and suddenly I was beyond curious. I also had suddenly become a little teary-eyed for some reason.

“Of course I do. When you first came home, I obviously was still thinking in terms of Jack. In a way, I think that was a big part of the problem I was having with the idea of a relationship. I didn’t understand that you’d always been Jill inside. I tried to convince myself that this was just some silly game or something. But the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve started to understand a lot of things, not only about you, but about me as well.”

The nurse stuck her head in the room, “Sorry, but visiting hours are over,” then left as quickly as she had arrived.

Sarah looked at her watch and hissed, “If I don’t get out of here pretty quick, I’ll be late for the gig. I’m sorry.” She kissed me good night, and whispered, “I love you.”

I thought I was going to float off the bed at those words. It wasn’t the first time she’d said them, but they always seemed to have that effect on me. I whispered, “I love you too, but why are you whispering?”

She said, “No reason,” and giggled. She stood up, and as she started backing away from the bed, said, “See you in the morning.”

“I’ll be waiting anxiously,” was my response. Moments later, she was gone from my sight. I was tired enough from the increased walks and physical therapy sessions that once I’d taken care of my daily maintenance in the restroom, I lay down and was quickly asleep…

I’m outside the club, by Sarah’s car. I look toward the back door of the building and see Billy Joe, Dave, Terry, and Mick the keyboard player all hiding around it, waiting. The door opens, another me comes out of the building, and is attacked by the four of them.

I run toward them, shouting, “NO! Stop!” but no one acknowledges my presence in any way. I try to grab hold of one of them to try and stop them, but can’t, my hands go through him as if I didn’t exist.

I feel the pain caused by each blow, and continue to stand there trying to interject myself into the attack in some way to no avail. I whisper, “Why?” and suddenly everything stops.

I say, “Why?” again, this time more loudly, and without moving or looking toward me I hear Dave reply.

“You pervert! For a year and a half we needed you to earn a living. Once you decided to quit, the reason for putting up with you and your queer ways was gone.”

Once again I asked, “Why?” this time pointing at my body lying motionless in the middle of the ongoing attack.

This time, the voice replying belonged to Billy Joe. “Because we hate you. We hate your faggot ways, and we hate the fact that you made us put up with them for so long.”

“But I wasn’t doing anything to you. Why hurt me?”

It was Terry’s turn. “You put our lives at risk! You quit, leaving us to find a replacement without notice? After we put up with you and your disgusting perversions? And you ask why we hate you? Why we want to hurt you?”

Suddenly, the action started anew. I could feel every blow just like I did the night it happened. The only difference was I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what was happening…

I started crying in my sleep, gradually building in intensity until I apparently was screaming. At least that’s what I did when the nurse woke me by grabbing me by the shoulders and gently shaking. I could feel the tears on my cheeks, and could still feel the fading pain from every blow I had endured as I pulled myself back to wakefulness.

I didn’t sleep all that well the rest of the night, and I’m sure it wasn’t too difficult to tell that fact from one look at me the following morning. I was in mid breakfast when Sarah arrived, and the first thing she said as she entered the room was, “What the heck is wrong with you? Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”

As she walked around the end of the bed toward what had become her usual spot in the chair right beside my bed, I replied, “Not much, I’m afraid. I had a bad dream and just couldn’t get back to sleep after that.”

Once good morning kisses had been exchanged and Sarah was seated at my side, she asked, “Was it like the ones you had that night we slept on the couch?”

“Well, yes and no. It was like I was watching myself being beaten. I could see it as if I were someone else, but still felt the pain from every blow. It was strange, even for me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in my ear as she gave me a gentle hug, trying not to make my ribs hurt.

“Not your fault. How was the gig?”

“It went all right. I missed you. So did everyone else.”

“Does that mean I still have a job?”

“Maybe,” she said with a twinkle in her eye that usually indicated some sort of mischief.

“So where’s Jen?”

“Bored of me already?” She tried to look hurt but only managed incredibly cute.

“Of course not. It’s just that I think I’m getting out today, and I could use a ride. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to take me home.” It sounded silly even as I was saying it.

“Not to worry, all has been arranged.”

When Dr. James came by, I was changed into street clothes, had all my belongings packed, and was ready to leave. “Not so fast. I need to take a look at how you’re healing first.”

He poked and prodded, and when finally satisfied that all was left in my recuperation was rest then working my way back to health, he signed off on my escape.

A nurse’s aide brought in a wheelchair…hospital regulations, everyone being discharged must ride to the door in a wheelchair. I don’t think anyone other than the insurance company knows why, but that’s another topic entirely…and we headed for the exit.

Once in the lobby, Sarah went to bring the car around front and the nurse’s aide waited with me for her return. As the car pulled up in front of the door, I stood up and said to her, “Thanks for the ride,” and started toward the exit.

By the time I had made it outside Sarah had gotten out of the car, come around to the passenger side, and opened the door for me. She helped me sit down and once I was settled inside she closed the door before returning to the driver’s seat for our journey home.

As we chatted about this and that during our journey, I found myself thinking how easily I could spend the rest of my life with this woman, if she’d have me.

When we pulled in the driveway, she said, “We have a surprise for you,” then got out and helped me out of the car.

“What? You mean more than the bedroom?” I asked as we walked toward the front door of the tiny house.

“More like something we completed,” she answered as she led me toward my room.

As we entered I saw what she was talking about. They had installed guitar hangars on one wall of the room, and suspended from them were all my friends. My J-200 hung nestled between the Les Paul Custom and Telecaster. As I went on down the line, there were long lost relics form my misspent youth…the BC Rich Warlock with the pink fish scale paint job, the old Fender Strat that I’d intentionally beat up to make it look like Stevie Ray Vaughn’s, and the Kramer Eddie Van Halen model with all the white stripes over the red body.

I wasn’t even aware most of them still existed, and began tearing up as I remembered with fondness each one of them. I turned to Sarah and asked, “How?”

Just then, Jen and Shelly entered the room with Jen answering my question with, “Mom had them down in the basement, believe it or not. I never figured her for a packrat, but there ya go.”

I hugged the stuffing out of all of them, saving Sarah for last and sneaking a kiss in the process. She didn’t seem to mind.

We retired to the living room and spent the afternoon chatting about nothing in particular, watching ‘Oprah’ and ‘Dr. Phil’, and eating a pizza we had delivered for dinner. After spending the early evening in similar pursuits, the three of them went into the bedrooms and got ready for work while I watched some television.

When they were all ready, Shelly asked, “Do you want to come along?”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty tired,” was my response as I gently tried to yawn.

Sarah chimed in with, “Oh, come on. When was the last time you went out somewhere when you weren’t working?”

I had to admit to myself that it had indeed been a very long time, as in years. I also had to admit that with each passing day I was finding it harder and harder to deny Sarah anything. “As long as you promise not to embarrass me or anything,” I said, reluctantly agreeing to the excursion.

All of us, with the exception of Annie who was riding with her husband, made the trek in Shelly’s van. I must say I found the trip enjoyable snuggling up alongside Sarah in the back seat, right up until we pulled in behind the club to get out. I was suddenly hit by what must have been a panic attack…there was no other way of describing what I experienced.

As the girls disembarked from our transport I started shaking, unable to move. Sarah was the first to notice, and she returned to my side to comfort me while I attempted to calm down. Once I was back under control somewhat, she said, “I promise, nothing bad is going to happen here.”

I was a little surprised at how much better I felt after hearing those words; and I was able to get out of the van and walk with the others inside the club. The first thing I noticed was just how busy the place was. It was absolutely packed, to the point that where there had been a dance floor the week before, there now were extra tables set up. Every seat was taken, and people were standing all around the building. ‘Why are there so many people here tonight?’ I thought.

As we went into the ‘dressing’ room, I asked, “What’s going on?”

At that moment, the club manager, Tim, came in the room. “Oh good, you’re here tonight,” he said to me.

“Why is that good?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Because the fundraiser will go better if they see who it is we’re raising the money for,” he replied.

I was obviously still several steps behind here, as I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Before I could ask, Jen offered, “Listen, Tim and the club owners decided to offer up this weekend as a way to raise some money to cover the hospital bills. So last night, tonight, and tomorrow, all the bar proceeds will go into the fund, along with a couple of donation stations that are set up around the club.”

“Wow!” was all I could think to say at that moment. Then I came to my senses, turned to Tim and said, “Thank you so much.” I gave him a hug, which while he looked a little uncomfortable, he managed to return in kind.

After Tim left I asked, “How…?”

Jen jumped in, “…Did we do this? Easy. Shelly went around putting up flyers in music stores all over town saying we were trying to raise money to cover your hospital costs after the beating last week. I was amazed by the response myself last night, and with you here tonight should be even better.”

“Shelly,” I started, “How can I ever thank you?”

As it was almost time for them to go on, Shelly asked, “I know you’re not up to playing all night, but would you be up to playing a couple of songs each set?”

I broke out in a smile that could have lit up the entire room and said, “I’d love that, but what about my sub?”

They all just looked at me, smiled, and laughed. I didn’t know what was so funny, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.

We walked out and received a thunderous ovation the likes of which I couldn’t ever remember hearing before. I looked around the room and recognized a lot of faces as belonging to other local musicians, and I realized they had turned the weekend into a jam session, which was why they weren’t worried about hiring a substitute for me. As we approached the stage, my eyes filled with tears.

We climbed the stairs and assumed our usual locations on stage, all accompanied by ever increasing applause levels. I was crying freely at this point, then saw that my old beat up ‘Stevie Ray’ Strat was sitting there on a stand, just waiting for me. I had no idea how it got there, as the last time I had seen it was earlier when it was hanging on my bedroom wall. I picked it up and the crowd began to die down. The girls all looked at me as if waiting for me to do something.

I finally got my tears under control enough to think, and decided to start playing. I began the jazzy opening to ‘Lenny’, which instantly hushed the crowd. I led the girls into the body of the song, and as it progressed I seemed to be reaching for things, both technically and emotionally, that I rarely attempted. I hoped I made it.

When we brought the song to it’s gentle close, the warmth of the crowd’s response overwhelmed me, once again I was in tears. The next thing I knew Mike, a guitar player I’d worked with off and on for years as Jack, came up with his guitar in his hands and leaned in close.

“Ya know, you don’t make a half bad chick,” he said in my ear. I couldn’t help myself, I gave him a huge hug before exiting the stage.

At the bottom of the steps Tim was waiting for me, and he escorted me to a reserved table right in front of the stage where I was instructed to sit and enjoy the evening’s entertainment. As each musician came off the stage after playing their bit, they were led over to sit with me for a moment; I bet I must have said ‘thank you’ about fifteen thousand times just over the course of the first set. I was amazed by the acceptance these people, many of whom had known me before, were showing me that night.

After they had completed that first set, the girls came and sat with me while a full band took the stage to do their part. At that point, I think a lot of the bands were using the opportunity to audition for the owner and manager of the club in hopes of getting some bookings themselves.

We wound up sitting through most of the evening as band after band took to the stage to play a few songs each. As they came off, they would each come by the table to shake hands and offer well wishes; by the time we returned to the stage near the end of the night, I was absolutely exhausted, even though I hadn’t really done anything.

It seemed Jen was intending for me to show off a bit for the extra large crowd, as we started off with ‘Wonder’ followed by ‘A Change Would Do You Good’. Then we took off and played ‘Let Go Of Yesterday’ before finally ending with ‘Black Cat’. From the sheer volume of the response, you might have thought we were playing to a packed concert venue instead of a small nightclub. It made for a thrilling night, to be sure.

We stood there and waved for several minutes as people cheered, tossed flowers on stage at us, and treated us like real stars. We weren’t allowed off the stage until well after ‘last call’, and only exited stage left as the club’s staff began forcibly escorting patrons from the building.

Instead of retiring to the dressing room as would normally have been the next step, I went out front and made a point of finding each and every person working there and thanking them personally for everything they had done that evening on my behalf. I was a little surprised that nobody showed the least bit of discomfort when I gave them each a hug; it was definitely a good kind of surprise.

The girls and I sat at our table from earlier and each enjoyed a beverage of some sort before heading out. When we were ready to leave, Tim came over and offered to personally escort me to the van, for which I was grateful. Even though I knew that those responsible for what had happened the previous week were unable to make a repeat appearance, I was still a bit wary over the prospect of going out into a dark alley late at night. He helped me up into the van, where I took my seat once again beside Sarah.

During the drive home, I laid my head on her shoulder and was out like a light. The impression I got was that she didn’t mind too much as by the time we pulled into our driveway, she too was sleeping, with her head resting on top of mine. I wish I had a picture, to tell you the truth.

There was never any question of whether Sarah would stay the night. We all took turns washing off the evening’s bar goo, shared some hot chocolate, then retired to the bedrooms, Shelly with Jen and Sarah with me.

As we snuggled together under the covers I said, “You know, I could get used to this.”

“Well, I should hope so,” she replied as she kissed the side of my neck and giggled.

“Mmmm,” I intoned. “Keep that up and you’ll be lucky if I ever let you leave.”

“Promises, promises.”

We drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, content in the thought that all was right with the world.