A Voice Lost and Found

Despite the way the story starts, which is brief, this is not a stroke story.

After my last, I think this is my last.

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I looked down on the long and tangled red hair that was bobbing between my legs, my fingers from both hands tangling her hair even further, pulling her mouth harder against my clit that she was working furiously with her tongue and lips. I was on my back with my legs opened wide, one foot on the floor, the other on the back of the couch. I groaned as my impending climax built, I was right on the edge. She managed to look up at me and when her eyes met mine in the dim light, she smiled before diving her mouth back down hard onto my sex again. I was so glad I chose this one to seduce and was able to talk her along for the ride.

This young woman was good. I won't admit to just how young (I'm not stupid, I checked her ID before letting her on the RV), but she had incredible skill at what she was doing to me. She had kept me right on the edge, but I was going to further soak her face until the vehicle we were in swerved hard, almost knocking us off the couch.

I looked back over my shoulder and yelled at the driver of my RV, "Keep your eyes on the road, asshole." He lowered the iPhone that he had in selfie mode over his shoulder to watch us from the driver's seat. I'd deal with that jerk later.

My cute redheaded friend looked up at me again with another smile, shrugged, and then brought me right back to where I was before, on the brink of climax. I felt the first tremors of orgasm wave through my body, and I arched my back off the couch. I started to whimper, "I'm cum . . ."

I didn't get to finish because the world turned upside down. Literally. To this day I can still remember that nanosecond frozen in my brain. There was my redheaded lover floating midair, shock and surprise registered on her face. I too was weightless, no longer in contact with the couch. Then noise, then pain, then darkness.

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I awoke in a hospital room. I actually woke several times before I could piece together where I was and why I was connected to a bunch of unfriendly machines. The first coherent thought that I registered though was the first thing that I put eyes on when I was able to sustain awareness. The ugly face of Billy, my bass player.

I mean he wasn't ugly ugly, but he was not handsome by any means. He had an enormous nose, I mean really huge, clearly broken at one time, and the rest of his features couldn't overcome that honker. His typical expression was one of being totally lost, so to me, he just looked stupid all the time. Next was his dirty brown hair that curled enough to be unruly, no matter how much he washed and combed it. He was tall, with broad shoulders, but now he was slumped in a chair next to my hospital bed looking tired. And staring at me with worry.

I tried to ask him why he was here. Why I was here, more importantly. Nothing came out of my mouth, not even a squeak. I wasn't even able to open my mouth. Then I felt pain, temporarily blinding me. I realized that everything hurt. All of me.

It was almost a year before I put the whole story together, and even then, I had some missing gaps. The driver of the RV was so intent on watching me getting head that he wandered onto the soft shoulder of the road and the RV went sideways before rolling several times. The accident killed the redhead and the driver, but I somehow survived, though I wished I hadn't.

Billy was driving the equipment truck at the time, following the RV while the rest of the band were in a van following Billy. If I hadn't bought the van and just let the members of my band tour in my crappy used RV, the accident would surely not have happened, but at the time, my lifestyle was way more important than my band. I didn't know them very well anyway. By design.

It was Billy, I found out much later, who went in and saved me. In all of my naked and bloody glory. Billy never told me all that he did for me, he refuses to talk about the details even to this day, but he managed to get my breathing in order after my windpipe was crushed. Since we were in the boonies somewhere east of Dallas and near the Arkansas border, he kept me alive in the van while my keyboardist drove as fast as possible for what was normally an hour-long drive back to Dallas to find a hospital.

I was out of it for several days, but my "husband" stayed by my side in that hospital room the whole time. He lied about who he was so he could be with me. Not knowing that he had saved me, I started to resent him right there in the hospital. I didn't want to hire him in the first place, but the conditions were such that I didn't have any choice.

The nurses and doctors seemed to like Billy, but I just couldn't. I really didn't like him. It could be because he was the one that delivered the news. The accident damaged some nerves around my larynx, and I would be unable to speak. Unable to sing. Billy should have let me die.

Various broken ribs, contusions and sprains, I couldn't give a shit about. All of those would heal, but it was most likely that my ability to communicate with my voice never would. I spent another week in the hospital, Billy only left my side to get himself coffee or occasionally something from the vending machines. I wasn't able to eat anything solid, nor would I for some time.

When I was feeling a little better, I communicated here and there with Billy by writing things down for him to read. It was mostly short sentences, things like, "Go away" or "Leave me alone." In between bouts of crying, I gave him the dirtiest looks I could, but then I tried not to look at his ugly face, or at least as little as possible.

I was discharged with an order to see a specialist for my vocal cords when I got home. Home. Ironic because with the RV wrecked, I was homeless. Billy wheeled me out of the hospital on a wheelchair, and then loaded me up into the cab of the equipment truck. The van, Billy told me, was taken back to Los Angeles by the rest of the band. They hadn't even waited to see if I would survive the accident before they hightailed it out of there to look for new jobs.

I didn't give Billy much of a fight about him taking me back to L.A., but I didn't have much choice. The RV was a total loss, the only insurance I had on it was liability. I had no family, no real friends, no money, and no place to live. I had released my apartment before the tour started and every penny to my name was used to buy the vehicles and the band equipment. I had a pittance of royalties from my first two albums, paid out four times a year, but without my voice, I was essentially ruined.

Like a machine, Billy drove 21 straight hours. Each of those hours, when I wasn't crying or sleeping, I thought about my life and what I was going to do. It brought me deeper into despair and self-loathing.

With the inability still to eat solid food, Billy managed to get me nutrition by way of fruit smoothies, protein shakes, or soup broth, feeding me at regular intervals that only he had scheduled along the way, but I really didn't want to eat. I didn't give a shit.

What was there even to give a shit about? I had so much ambition and such a promising future ahead of me, I can't believe it was so fully ripped from my grasp. At 32 years old, I had worked tirelessly at writing music and singing my own material, and it had finally started to pay off. My first album had a top 40 track, and now with my second album, my latest release having a top 20. Because of that, I was offered to be opening act for the domestic portion of Sarah Strange's tour, a pop star with four straight platinum albums and a completely sold out 45-city concert reaching from coast to coast and back.

Because I was able to play a variety of instruments, I recorded both albums myself, all except for the drums that is. For the drums, I synthesized using a Mac. All I needed for the tour was to hire a band for the duration of the schedule. I filled the slots easily once it was known that I was touring with Sarah Strange, but with only one spot open, the bass player position, it was Sarah that recommended I take on Billy. Actually, it was more of an order than a request. I didn't even hear him play before he was signed on at bass.

We got four weeks for the band to learn the songs and rehearse. I drove them hard, didn't soften any blows when they missed a beat or didn't play up to my standards. It was my reputation at stake here, not theirs, so I worked them until their fingers were raw. I didn't make friends out of any of them, but in the end, the Jenna Faircort Band was made ready.

We were only eight cities into the tour when the accident happened. Things had been really going well too. Sarah had been encouraging and thought that I would be headlining my own tour with one more good album, so I had been writing all along the way. That is when I wasn't fucking a groupie that I brought back from the concert to the hotel or RV

Billy didn't turn out to be too bad of a bass player, though I had to nearly drag him into playing it the way I wanted him to, the way I rolled down the tracks when I recorded them. He started out wanting to play it in a style that was oddly familiar to me, but it turns out the bass wasn't his strongest instrument, it just happened to be the only open spot at the time Sarah came and forced him on me. It was ultimately a condition for the tour.

At times along the tour, Sarah would come see Billy backstage and pull him away for private conversation. I was a little star struck every time Sarah would talk to me, but she didn't seem to have any effect on Billy. Weird, but it almost seemed the other way around. He was perfectly calm around this international superstar, yet she hung all over him, listening to his every word as if he was the most interesting man in the world. Who knows what they went on about, I really didn't give a shit. Thinking back, it might have been my jealousy for Sarah's attention that made me dislike Billy and not just his nose and stupid face.

I was shocked and surprised when we pulled up to his home, a beautiful mid-century modern style home in none other but Laurel Canyon, an iconic neighborhood for the A-listers in the history of rock and roll. Not being anywhere close to affordable for a session musician. The only explanation I could think of was that he must have inherited it and had a trust fund to pay the annual property taxes as it had to be worth a couple million, California real estate being what it is.

Inside was well appointed with mid-century modern furniture, keeping with the style. The back of the house had a hillside view with floor to ceiling windows, leading to a large swimming pool. Most impressive though was artwork, interesting and beautiful paintings and sculpture, the place looked like a museum. Not that I really gave a shit, I didn't want to even be here but had nowhere else to go.

He showed me to a guest room. I went inside and locked the door and then crashed as I expected he did the same after being awake for such a long drive.

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Eventually I had to get up and use the bathroom. Just lifting my body out of bed was an exercise in pain, I hurt all over. I couldn't even groan about it, only contort my face which also hurt. Fuck, I couldn't even groan.

I had slept until almost noon and was still wearing the clothes that Billy brought me just before I was discharged, which didn't come close to fitting me but it was better than leaving the hospital in a paper gown. I eventually found Billy in the kitchenette reading a newspaper. He gave me a smile and then got up and fed me a spoonful of syrup that was a powerful painkiller he had been giving me since we left the hospital. I wondered if I were to drink the whole bottle and chase it with Jack Daniels if it would kill me. With my luck it would probably just maim me and not finish the job.

He started to make me a protein shake and said, "I won't ask you how you slept, you look just miserable. My sister is going to be over in a bit and check your size so she can pick up some clothes for you. I clearly did a shitty job when I picked out what I did. Oh, something else, I got word that your purse was recovered from the RV wreckage, I'm having it sent here. Your phone was destroyed in the accident, so I'll have sis get you a new one. Write down anything else you need; I've never had a woman living here before." He motioned to a notepad and pen on the counter, but I just shrugged it off.

He finished making my shake just as the doorbell rang. I took it into the living room and stretched out on the couch, mentally urging the pain medicine to kick in while I forced the shake down my damaged throat. From the foyer, I heard the door open and then what sounded like a little girl, "Hiya Uncle Billy!"

Billy came into the living room with a little girl in his arms, probably 7 or 8 years old, and introduced her as his niece, Jessica. A woman stood by his side with her arms crossed, she just glared daggers at me. Billy introduced her as his sister, Salamander, then she glared at Billy and he corrected it to Sally. She was a very good looking woman, I would take her to bed in a heartbeat, but I couldn't for the life of me understand how these two could be related. I vaguely recognized her, and then I remembered that she had been to a couple of our band practices. I had assumed she was Billy's unlikely girlfriend at the time.

Billy took Jessica into the kitchen to look for ice cream, Sally watched them leave the room and then got right in front of me. She furiously typed into her phone and then a mechanized female voice went over the phone's speaker, "Listen, bitch. Get your shit together and leave Billy alone. You need to get your sorry ass out of this house A S A P or I will throw you out myself."

I was shocked, I didn't know this woman for more than a few minutes and she was threatening me. If looks could kill, I was a goner.

She sighed, shook her head, and brought me a pad of paper, then using her phone app she ordered me to write down my clothing dimensions. She addressed me as "bitch" once again, and after. Billy came back into the room with Jessica, and I felt immediately more comfortable that I wasn't alone with his sister any longer.

Jessica sat on the couch next to me with a bowl of ice cream in her lap after Billy asked if it was OK that she watch some cartoons with me on the TV in front of the couch. Billy turned to his sister and made funny motions with his hands; his sister then did the same. I had that 'aha' moment, recognizing sign language (ASL) for what it was.

Jessica didn't look from her cartoons, she just said for my benefit, "My mom is deaf. That means she can't hear stuff."

I watched Billy and Sally communicate with their hands and fingers, not understanding any of it. What I could tell though was that I was the subject of their discussion. Billy's signs would be calm and he kept his face neutral while Sally's signs were fast and sharp, her lips pursed in anger. Both would glance over at me from time to time.

I'm sure my mouth was hanging open, giving away my surprise and lack of knowing what the fuck was going on. Billy finally looked at me with a sympathetic face then took his sister by the hand and led her into the kitchen to continue their discussion out of my view.

Without looking away from the TV, Jessica spoke softly to me, "Mommy says you aren't very nice to Uncle Billy and that you are a mean person." She then turned to me and said, "Please don't be mean to Uncle Billy. He's the nicest, bestust uncle ever, it just wouldn't be fair. We can't be friends if you're mean to him." Then she turned back to watching her cartoons while I tried to process that, not so easy as my painkiller had kicked in and I was feeling a little groggy.

When was I ever mean to Billy, I wondered? Oh, like, damn, constantly. I really poured some abuse on him during practices. Sally must have seen some of that when she was in the studio. If she was deaf, though, how did she know what I was screaming at Billy?

Jessica seemed to read my mind, answering my unspoken question, "Mommy's pretty good at reading lips."

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Sally left to go shopping, she was gone for about four hours. Billy made himself busy either on the phone or on his laptop while I watched cartoons with Jessica for a while until I took a little nap on the couch. When I woke up, the TV was off, Billy and Jessica were communicating with sign language. Not that they needed to, I guess they were just trying to be polite while I slept.

Now awake, Jessica asked if I wanted ice cream while Billy gave me some updates, he had spent the morning working on my affairs. Kay, my drummer, had possession of the van and would bring it by in a couple of weeks. She was going to drop it off in the auto shop to replace the middle bench seat, there was too much of my own blood to clean apparently. The insurance company for the RV totally wrote off the whole thing. The medical insurance that was covering us, the band, for the tour on behalf of the Sarah Strange umbrella was going to pay my hospital bills.

I agreed to the ice cream, and it felt pretty good going down my throat. It was then that this precocious 8-year-old and Billy ganged up on me. While I napped, the two decided that they were going to teach me sign language, and lessons would start as soon as I finished eating. I tried to shrug it off, but it was apparently not negotiable.

It started with the alphabet, using my fingers, and just a few simple words that were important to get started. Jessica was adamant about teaching niceties; hello, how are you, please, thank you, have a nice day. Billy was more practical; I'm hungry, I'm in pain, I need to use the bathroom. Maybe it was my ability to read music and remember scores of song lyrics, but I was taking to it pretty well when Sally returned with armloads of bags and then left for home, taking Jessica with her.

Jessica hugged me before leaving, whispering into my ear, "Remember. Be nice." I looked over her shoulder at her mom who mouthed, "bitch", to me. It didn't matter, I was numb to it now. She could just go fuck herself if she didn't like me.

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Billy's sister did a nice job at shopping for clothes for me. Three pairs of jeans, tee shirts, a blouse, nightshirt, and plenty of underwear. It was all granny underwear, but I was fine with that, it wasn't like anyone was going to see them. Like ever again.

She also picked me up a new iPhone, the latest model, and an iPad. Fortunately, I was able to restore my contacts and photos from the cloud, but that ended up being a depressing let down. My contacts were mainly for the music industry, and I wasn't likely going to need them anymore. Scrolling through my pictures, they were all about promoting myself. Another reminder that I didn't have any real friends.

Taking my iPad, Billy entered his contact information and then downloaded an app and showed me how to use it. It brought up a keypad and I could type into it then have the speaker say what I wrote, probably the same app Billy's sister used to call me a bitch. Multiple times.

I used the app to ask him why he was being so nice to me. He responded, "I thought you needed a friend pretty bad after your RV flipped." He was right, of course. Billy was an unlikely choice for a friend I thought, but at this moment he was the only one I had.

I asked him how long I could stay, and he told me that I could stay as long as I wanted or needed to. I told him that his sister hated me, and he said that she was very protective of him. Sally was born deaf, and he had watched over her for most of her life, she was just trying to reciprocate. He added that she didn't know me like he did. I don't know what he meant by that at all, Billy didn't know shit about me.