Earning Her Stripes

by SadieIRL

At twenty-six, Amethyst, Lapis and Peridot thought they'd have things all figured out and be fully functioning adults, but life proves to be more complicated than they ever anticipated. But when everything is revealed, can they pull together and find their own paths to finally becoming real adults? Human A/U.

10. Joy and Sorrow

Chapter 10 – Joy and Sorrow

Peridot

Lapis was released from the hospital a week later and Pearl agreed to let her and Peridot stay at her house until they could find something more permanent. "Although, how you'll do that with no job I'm not sure," Pearl said.

"I have some savings," Peridot told her. And it was true – she'd had very little to buy over her nearly two years with the Diamantes, plus the six months' salary Amarela had recently given her. So, she actually had quite a bit of money she could use to rent an apartment somewhere in town for a while if she was smart about spending.

Lapis told them she had been saving some money but she had also spent more than she cared to admit on booze. Actually, being around people softened the ache of loneliness, but she still thought about vodka nearly all the time aching for that haze to take away the gnawing feeling that she was alone. "I really messed up," she said to Peridot one day as they sat together eating breakfast.

"We both did. I've actually scheduled a counseling appointment for later this week – I have some things to work through and I know therapy helps." She likely would not need as many sessions as she did in college when she was depressed and suicidal. Her eyes focused on the semicolon tattoo on her wrist – no, she was nowhere near that. However, nearly being killed and being in a relationship – no, actually being used – by the Diamantes had definitely left its mark. "Have you thought about it? You know, counseling?"

"I think I may need more than just that. I've looked into some programs that help with…over-drinking…"

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'alcoholism', Lapis."

"Yeah…that. Once my leg is better, I'll probably check myself in at one of those places."

"Sounds like a good idea." Peridot finished up a quick text to Amethyst who had left a few days prior to head home, but promised to visit during the summer.

Later on, she scoured the internet for any kind of tech jobs nearby but the best she could find was a computer parts store looking for part-time work. It was something, she supposed, so she set up an interview. Flipping through the papers Amarela had given her, she focused on a glowing letter of recommendation she'd written for Peridot. It felt fake to use it as she'd never actually worked for the company and Amarela had no idea if Peridot was as good with techy stuff as she claimed to be. However, she really couldn't look for anything too permanent until she was sure if she was even staying and she had to consider Lapis who would need help at least the next five weeks while she healed.

Then there was the matter of going to see her parents at some point. She and Pearl had agreed not to divulge certain details of Peridot's life for the past two years. As far as they knew, she'd missed being so far from home and she wasn't happy with her job, so she'd decided to move back and find something on the East Coast. That was one perk of being an adult – her parents did not need to know about everything.

So, at the interview later that week, she was told she was overqualified for the job but it was hers if she wanted it. It was actually a great job because she mostly worked in the back fixing computers. Her hours were set around Pearl's schedule at the kid's center so one of them could be with Lapis if she needed help. It was not the life she thought she'd have, but it was better than the one she left behind.

Amethyst

There was one encouraging e-mail in her inbox from a publishing company in Empire City saying the samples she sent sounded interesting and they'd like to meet with her once she got through typing up the journal entries.

So, after work most nights, she sat at her computer typing out journal entries. Some she skipped – particularly ones that sounded repetitive or too whiny (mostly from the first two journals), but she kept the important ones that she felt reflected her sister's struggles as well as her triumphs mostly in the military, but in life as well.

"Ames, it's not good for you to be up so late," her mother said. "You need your rest. It's not doing you or your baby any favors to run yourself ragged."

"I'll be in bed soon."

As soon as her mom was gone, she opened the journal she'd been reading for quite a while now. She figured maybe she should just take a break from typing everything up and get through the rest of this journal and the next one. She got into bed and started reading the next entry.

September 14th – I do not know why I didn't do this sooner. Both the marathon yesterday and what happened after were pretty good! The training Bismuth and I put ourselves through paid off and we both finished in less than five hours, which is pretty good considering it was 26 miles. I was exhausted by the end of it, but felt a definite sense of accomplishment. It's odd to think this time last year I was in the hospital with a broken leg and now I think I'm in the best shape of my life. All that mess is behind me now anyway and I don't really think much about it – it was just another in a long line of WTF's in my life I've had to deal with. "You should come over tonight," Bismuth told me. "I'll make us dinner." He knows he can tempt me with food, so I told him it was a date.

Now I could go on and on about the amazing steak he made (because he's a great cook whereas when God was handing out culinary skills, I was clearly going back for more height, muscles or getting like thirds in the boob line) – but that wasn't the highlight of the evening. It was later as we were on the couch making out and his hands had found their way into my orange tank top as they usually did ever since a month ago when I decided it was okay. He is one of the most understanding guys out there and knowing my past, he lets me set the pace with anything sexual. I have also let him know due to the reconstructive surgery I'd needed in certain areas the doctor told me my first time post-surgery was going to feel much like my first time ever, so that was nothing to look forward to. So, he understood very well my nervousness and my reluctance to just jump into it, but I let him know I was finally ready to take that next step with him.

First of all, it is not often that one gets a second chance to offer their virginity to another person. My very first time was in a car with my track coach after Homecoming – and I know if my mom ever knew this, she'd be like "oh my God!" – but no, it wasn't like that – I was 100% into it. He was about 26 or so and I lied and said I was 18 despite the fact that I wouldn't be for another two weeks. He practically freaked when he saw the blood. I told him I didn't believe in virginity; I said it was an invention of the patriarchy meant to make women believe their worth was between their legs. And, please, if I ever utter the words 'the patriarchy' again someone shoot me. Looking back, I really wished I would have waited especially when I hear sweet stories of women having the perfect first experience. There were a few short term relationships; usually the sex was pretty good. Then, of course, I became a bit of a slut necessitating rules so that only certain people would get the full experience – and that ended disastrously and I never wanted to think about sex again. Then Bismuth came along and I thought 'this might be it – this might be the next one I give myself to'. And Akhram…God, I can't BELIEVE I thought I had FEELINGS for him. What a rapist asshole. However, it was his final act that made it so the doctors had to operate – they said they weren't sure of my status beforehand so they opted for anatomical correctness and gave me everything back – physically anyway, obviously I still had those experiences. I am no longer the feminist I thought I was back then (I'm more of an equalist if I had to label it and I'm not sure I like labels) and after all this has happened, I realized that whoever I decided would get my virginity again would have to really be special to me.

All that being said, I have NEVER had an experience like I did last night. I get goosebumps just thinking about it and I want to do all over again. Yes, it hurt at first – I was expecting that, but what I did not expect was how close it made me feel to him. I'm not a holder – that is with most of my sexual partners, I do not pull them close, rather I usually keep my hands off. But I wanted needed him close to me. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tightly. The amount of emotion attached to this act was overwhelming to the point where I felt – and this sounds corny enough in my head – but I felt us becoming one-minded as though we were one entirely new being while still being the two of us. And if I could have merged bodies with him somehow, heck, I would have done it – I guess we sort of were, actually. And all this emotion only heightened the physical pleasure we both felt.

Afterwards, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us catching our breath and he kissed me softly telling me for the first time that he loves me. That's when I realized – that was the key to this amazing experience – the previous times with other people had been just sex, this was so much more than that. This was making love. I opened my eyes and looked into his, whispering that I loved him too.

It was wonderful and beautiful and scary and deliciously amazing…and healing.

I stayed the night at his place. This morning was also pretty earth-shaking.

Amethyst smiled at the entry – and was rather thankful her sister hadn't been too descriptive – but she was honestly glad to read a positive passage about her sex life. She wondered if she would ever experience anything like that.

October 30th – He accepts me as I am. My scars, my stripes, all my "perfect imperfections" he says (pretty sure he got that from a song). I don't know what I did to deserve such a great guy but I hope I keep doing it because I never want to lose him. I've never felt this way about anyone before. With most everyone else in my life, I'll spend time with them, say goodbye and be glad to have time to myself. But I can be with him ALL DAY and after we kiss goodnight, I can't WAIT to see him again.

We talked about children in the future – possibly. I didn't even know we were at that point in our relationship, but he asked what I thought about having them. I told him the truth: I'm up for the adventure if my body will cooperate. He asked if my body does not, would I be opposed to adoption? I am not; I could love any child, but I do want to try for our own – when the time is right. I wonder with our careers if it will ever be.

We should probably be married first.

November 5th – Bismuth asked me to move into his house with him. It's a step in the right direction anyway. It's a small place and needs a little work, but we can make it our own. He inherited it from his grandmother, so at least it's paid for. I'm mostly excited about celebrating our first Christmas here. "We're not putting up a tree until December," he told me. "Absolutely," I agreed.

November 28th – We were just going to look at trees and decorations. We may have a Christmas tree up a little before December. What can I say – we're happy.

December 25th – We both woke up about 4:30 this morning and were unable to get back to sleep. "When do you want to open presents?" Bismuth asked. I told him: "We're grown adults on our own; we can open them whenever we want." So, of course, we were opening gifts by 5 AM. Never thought I'd be excited about things for the kitchen, but he got me a juicer and I was like "hell yeah!" Then the brat that he is hands me this huge box and I can immediately tell what's going on because it's SUPER light, so I open it and of course it's a box inside of another box and there's like 6 boxes and each time I'm like: "You motherfucker." And Bismuth is just right there watching me, grinning like a buffoon as I make my way through all these boxes thinking: "I swear if this is something stupid like a pair of socks." But, when I had unwrapped it all, there was an ornament in the bottom of…a box. Literally an ornament of a wrapped Christmas box – with a latch and everything so it could actually open – that I had to go through SIX BOXES to even see. And on the front in nice gold letters it read: Cordero. I opened it, then quickly closed it, my heart fluttering at what I'd just seen. "What's this?" I asked.

"My last name…I thought maybe we could share it." And that's when he took the box from me and got on one knee and opened it revealing a diamond ring.

Now, as a woman, I have thought about this potential moment in my life more than once and never did it involve me sitting on the floor Christmas morning wearing my nightshirt and panties with my hair all messy from sleep, surrounded by – once again – SIX BOXES worth of fucking wrapping paper.

And he asked me and I said yes. Then we made love right there on top of all the wrapping paper.

Gotta say, it was fun later on at home showing off my ring. Dad already knew this was happening because apparently Bismuth actually asked his permission. "I told him you were an adult and that was no man's decision to make for you, but I'm glad you said yes," Dad told me. "You deserve someone who makes you happy and he's a good guy." Mom was shocked (but happy) after years of her basically telling me I was not going to get a man – "No one wants a girl with muscles bigger than him/with such uneven skin (translation: wear makeup)/who doesn't know how to cook/swears too much, etc." She gives Ames shit too as if getting married should be our ultimate goal, so it came as no surprise as we were eating Christmas dinner she said something about my sister eating too much. "No man will want a girl too heavy."

I know what she says comes from some place of caring where she just wants what she thinks is best for us. I don't know how Amethyst feels – she seems pretty confident – but I know Mom's constant criticism did nothing for my self-esteem growing up (especially when it came to her complaining about things I couldn't control like my height or my vitiligo). I hope I don't come off as too mean to Ames about her eating habits, but I just want her to be healthy – my concern has nothing to do with her meeting a guy or not. I want to tell her that the right one will come along when she least expects it and will love her for all that she is – and seriously, she's awesome – what's not to love?

Amethyst felt a twinge of sadness and a little annoyance at reading that. "You couldn't have said anything – to me, to Mom – when you were alive?" However, she knew this was one reason her sister journaled; she was not good at expressing herself. Jasper was a mystery wrapped in an enigma; no one often knew what she was thinking when those gold-brown eyes stared off into space and she seemed to be in another place where no one could reach her. She could have been pondering the mysteries of the universe or wondering how many donut holes she could fit in her mouth at one time. So, of course she wouldn't have spoken up; her expressions usually manifested themselves as anger or annoyance, so she knew if she did say something it likely would have been taken the wrong way.

January 15th – Bismuth's parents came to visit for a week so I finally got to meet them. I don't think his mom likes me very much. She squinted her eyes and looked me up and down before finally saying in a southern drawl "Well, don't you look…healthy." I wasn't exactly sure how to take that, but I think it's because she doesn't think I'm demure and feminine or pretty at all. His dad, however, didn't seem to mind when he gave me a big hug and then punched my shoulder saying: "It's about time Beezy got himself a woman who can keep him in line. What are you? Polynesian, right?" I laughed and plainly told him I was proudly American while my fiancé looked embarrassed about this nickname. We went back to the house where his mother had more complaints especially when she realized I don't cook (at least not very well). "That's no good, Jasper – you know the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." I glanced over at the case on our shelf displaying the knife I'd killed Akhram with. "Actually, in my experience, it's through the fourth and fifth rib." She wasn't impressed with my humor and she wasn't happy to see Bismuth and I shared a bed. "It's bad enough you two live together, Bismuth, but honestly…" she heaved a heavy sigh, "you should be married before you do certain things. You wouldn't want to end up in a family way outside of wedlock." Bismuth took my left hand and held it up: "We'll be married soon enough." His mom looked at the ring and I could tell she was considering my less-than-ladylike hands as she clicked her tongue in disapproval. "What's your ring size, Jasper – ten? Also, is Jasper your real name or a nickname?" Not that I owed her any explanation but I simply told her my parents both thought I would be a boy and they hadn't picked out a 'girl' name. "When you two have kids, you want to think about names carefully. Masculine names for a girl will lead to masculine traits and behavior," she said. I want to deck this bitch.

January 17th – I can't wait for "Mama Cordero" to go home. She insisted on teaching me to cook chili and cornbread – "Beezy's favorite." I took off my sweater so I wouldn't mess it up and since I was only wearing a tank top under it, she saw my tattoo and 'tsked' her disapproval. "A tattoo, really? Nice young LADIES don't have tattoos." "It's a traditional Samoan warrior tattoo; it's an important status symbol in our culture," I explained. She gave me a smug look and said: "I thought you were American." The chili and cornbread didn't turn out too badly, though she wouldn't know that because I stirred a bunch of cayenne pepper into her bowl before I placed it on the table. She insisted I say grace before we ate and I said the traditional prayer my mother always recited before dinner. "Are you planning to raise your children Catholic or Baptist?" she asked, noticing I'd crossed myself. Bismuth and I looked at each other as this is something we honestly hadn't discussed since neither one of us really go to church. I felt like telling her we would raise them to be devil worshippers. "Well, whatever the mother is, traditionally the children follow," his father said. "Great chili, Jasper." His mother coughed after swallowing and downed half of her water before taking a bite of cornbread. "How much spice did you add?" I told her I made the chili like God made me – a little bit of sugar and whole lot of spice and that if she couldn't handle the heat perhaps she should stay out of MY kitchen. She gave me a sweet smile and drawled: "Well, bless your heart." Bismuth later explained that in the South this was not an endearing phrase. She basically told me to go fuck myself. And I thought my mom was a piece of work. At least my family is loving and welcoming to Bismuth. I'm glad his dad likes me, but I wonder if this will be my relationship with his mom for the rest of our lives.

January 18th – Today, I made his parents breakfast. Okay, so I called Ames for some pointers on what to do – she said there was no way I could possibly fuck up pancakes. Yeeeeeeahhh…burned the first four and the smoke detector went off waking up Bismuth and his parents. His mother shook her head: "Not exactly a traditional woman, are you?" I was about to tell her the last person who tried to force me into that mold ended up dead, but as if to rub it in that I couldn't cook, one of the pancakes decided to burst into flames and I hit it with the spatula to put it out. Correction – today, Bismuth took us all out to breakfast. I ordered something healthy, but the eggs must've been cooked in some kind of grease or something because I felt weird the rest of the morning.

January 19th – This morning she had the nerve to say: "Bismuth, she's not at all what I had hoped for in a wife for you." He laughed – "What do you mean? She tells me all the time she's a delicate feminine flower!" "I just don't know what you see in her." "Well," he replied. "It's partly the way she makes me feel happier than I've ever been and how she brings more light to my life than I thought possible, though it could also be the way she handles a grenade launcher in battle." "And does she plan on staying in even after you're married? After you have kids?" He told her we both plan on that and it would be unfair of anyone to expect me to quit the army just because I'm a woman. We both went on a run after breakfast to work out some steam. I ended up getting sick halfway through (still finished it though) and reminded Bismuth we need to exercise BEFORE we eat.

January 20th – I HAD to get out of the house this morning. That BITCH had the nerve to ask Bismuth if I'd 'always been a woman'. What the fuck?! That was pretty much my fiancé's reaction too and he finally told his mom to stop and show me some respect. I told her plainly that if I ever wasn't, then getting pregnant was a goddamn miracle. I couldn't help it; the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, which only gave her more reason to hate me. His mother just shook her head and said: "You are a godless person, Jasper. You need to think about how you're living your life. Dare I ask where your child is? Or is it 'children'? Do they live with their father? Fathers? Or did you 'take care of it'?" My stomach clenched and I felt like losing my breakfast right then and there as old wounds opened. I hate thinking about the babies. Bismuth put a hand on my shoulder and told her that was enough. It didn't matter; I grabbed my keys and left and went to Lacy's where I vented to her. When I was done, she simply poured me a shot of whiskey. "Wow, I thought my mother-in-law was mean. You clearly need a drink. Just remember Bismuth loves you no matter what." "I'm joining his family and his mom hates me," I told her. "She has no idea what I've been through…she just speaks without thinking." I tried drinking the whiskey but the smell was strong and off-putting, so I set it down. "It actually makes me sick to my stomach. I can't drink that. You want it?" "Can't," she said simply. "Rubeus just got off breastfeeding and now I'm expecting…again. It's been forever since I've had a good drink." I admit – I'm a little jealous of her. God forbid Mama Cordero ever finds out I might not be able to have kids again – then I'd really be on her shit list. I drank the offending whiskey anyway and it only took a few minutes before I had to race to Lacy's bathroom because my stomach was still in knots and rebelled.

January 21st – Bismuth and I had a long talk last night about his mom's behavior toward me. "They're your family and she doesn't like me," I said. He sighed and explained: "She's incredibly traditional and believes a woman joins her husband's family, takes his name, gives that name to their children and she had certain expectations of her new daughter. I just never thought she'd be so cruel about it."

"My own mom is always on my case. I can't have that from two sides. Did you…did you tell her…anything?"

"What? About your past? No, that's yours to tell if you want. All I did let her know is maybe there are things she's not considering and that she should get to know you better so she can see all the good things I see in you."

Today is Sunday, so she insisted we go to church – a Baptist church – and she was appalled I had no dresses to wear. "What do you normally wear on a Sunday? You know, when you go to…service." I told her I wear exactly what I was wearing then – nice pants and a sweater. I didn't mention that I don't attend every Sunday and definitely not that I only go twice a year. I didn't mention that I'm not sure Bismuth and I will make our kids go because I'd like them to make up their own minds. An hour is a long time to ask a kid to sit through church no matter the denomination; I remember being bored out of my mind sitting through Mass on Sundays. Mom always gave me gum to keep me quiet and for some reason it was spearmint. I can't stand spearmint ANYTHING to this day. Heck, I still got restless sitting through service; I thought about my childhood, the spearmint gum and felt queasy all over again. His mom's perfume didn't help anything and on the way home I took deep breaths until I could finally make it to the bathroom and puke. "You've gotta do something about that nervous stomach, girl," his father said. His mother simply eyed me suspiciously. I wanted to tell her it's her fault I've been feeling this way.

Later on, I saw her standing in front of the shelf, looking at the knife in its case. "Jasper, what is this? Is it Arabian?"

"Yeah, it's called a janbiya."

"The handle and sheath are very ornate. Did you buy it when you were over there?"

"No." I lifted the case and took it out, turning it in my hands. It had been a long time since I'd studied it or thought about why it was displayed. "I was held prisoner over there for two months; my captor used this knife to scare me – keep me in line. I used to be very afraid of it…and of him. He threatened me with it and made me do what he wanted…every night." I put emphasis on the last part. "He got me pregnant and then assaulted me so badly I lost the baby and almost died myself. In the end, I used this to kill him. I keep it to remind myself of everything I've survived so far; to remind myself that I am stronger than any terror this world subjects me to."

"Strength isn't everything."

"Well, it's a quality your son likes in me." I placed the knife back in its holder and slid the case over it. "This man tried to mold me into the 'ideal woman' – tried to make me forget who I was. Part of the reason I keep it is to remind myself that I will not fit into anyone else's mold. I might not be your idea of a perfect woman, but Bismuth loves me and I love him and I would hope that above all, you just want him to be happy. We are happy together."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Just promise me you'll have this locked up before you have your baby." She pointed to the guns mounted on the wall. "Those too."

"I'm not pregnant."

She simply smiled at me before walking away.

January 22nd – His mom gave me a wrapped gift before she and his dad headed to the airport. I'll miss his dad; I suppose I've made some kind of peace with his mom, but part of me would still like to tell her she can go 'bless her heart'. Especially after I opened the gift and it was a boxed pregnancy test. Really, bitch? I tossed it in the bathroom cabinet. "Could you be?" Bismuth asked. I told him it was unlikely. He told me then his mom seems really in tune with these types of things and has rarely been wrong. I still don't have the nerve to take the test. I just keep remembering what the doctor told me and I really don't want to lose another baby or put my own life in danger. But if I am…then at least I conceived this one with the person I love more than anything in the world and it would prove my body isn't damaged beyond repair. I don't know what I'm dreading more – a negative or positive result.

February 21st – Mom took me wedding dress shopping, just to look, but I don't think a wedding dress is for me. Dresses aren't for me – I don't think I've worn one since prom (the abaya does not count). First of all, formal dress sizes are like two sizes smaller than regular sizes, so that's discouraging but if you're not a specific body type, these dresses don't ever look good. And white has never been my color. So many of the dresses are strapless meaning I'd need some kind of corset, which I refuse to wear. My mom was looking at veils, which I also refuse to wear (sorry, Mom, it just brings back memories of being held prisoner). "We could put some flowers in your hair." I'm not a flowery person. When I got home later this afternoon, I vented some of my frustrations to Bismuth, especially the way my mom was talking about how to cover up my tattoo and the stripes on my arms. "I like your tattoo – and your stripes," he said. "It gives you character."

"I don't want to wear a dress at all. I don't look good in dresses."

"You never did strike me as the 'princess bride' type. Honestly, I kind of assumed you'd wear your dress uniform."

I raised an eyebrow realizing this was not a bad idea at all. Despite not liking dresses and skirts, I look pretty damn good in my uniform and he's planning to wear his. We talked more and decided we really didn't want the fancy wedding my mom assumes we're having at some point late this year or next year. "I just want to be your wife," I said. "That's all. I don't need a princess dress or a big, white wedding. I don't need the stress or the complication of all that. I just need you."

So, we narrowed down a date in early April – Amethyst will be home from college on spring break – to go to the courthouse and have a simple ceremony.

March 5th – Mom tried to talk me out of the courthouse idea because she has all these plans, but I simply reminded her that this is my wedding. Maybe Amethyst will let her go crazy with planning when it's her turn. "Don't you want your marriage blessed by a priest?" I told her we are going with a non-denominational service and a Justice of the Peace will officiate. "Oh, at least pick out a dress," she insisted. "Your uniform is a dark color." I told her I look better in dark colors and my uniform is actually flattering on me and it's not like I'm a virgin bride anyway. She gave an exasperated sigh: "Is there some pressing reason you need to do this so quickly? And at the courthouse?" I tried to hide it; I did – I didn't even write it down anywhere in case it didn't pan out, but I'm sure my face said it all. No, we didn't exactly plan this, but we're getting married and I guess that was good enough for mom because I could see excitement in her eyes. I shut that down right away saying: "We are not jinxing this." "But…you have to be so excited," she said. I'll be excited when I know everything's okay.

April 3rd – The skirt on my uniform is a bit tight, but once the suit jacket is over it no one will be able to tell. Thankfully I am feeling better and for good reason – we are now 13 weeks in. I suppose I can let myself get a little excited – this is the first time I've carried a life created with love. We're pretty sure it happened on Christmas (or around that time). What's even more exciting is today is the day. Amethyst will be my witness and Bismuth is having a friend stand with him. And, of course both sets of parents will be there. I honestly thought I'd be nervous, but I'm not; I'm so happy and feel like nothing can bring down my smile today.

Also April 3rd– April 4th (technically) – Bismuth is sleeping – I wore him out (heh heh). In the morning we'll leave to drive south to go to beaches and relax on an extended weekend honeymoon. I suppose this is the last time I'll be in a bathing suit for a while. "You packed a really skimpy bikini, right?" he asked. Yeah, 'cause I'll be caught dead wearing anything ending in 'kini' – no, it's a red one piece, but despite the fact that my stomach is rounding out a bit, I still look damn sexy in it.

But, of course, I want to write about the wedding. Amethyst helped me get ready, well, as much as she could. She's like Mom in that respect – "Let's have your hair down with flowers." I told her I can't – my hair has to be pinned back when in uniform, no decorations, which is kind of actually a shame now that it's to my mid-back again. "Can you wear makeup?" she asked. I told her yes, I could, but no red lipstick. Not that I ever do wear it, but she got to work outlining my eyes and spreading on eyeshadow. "This is going to really bring out the gold color." I refused foundation because I will not cover what I don't consider a deformity, but she used some kind of powder to contour my cheeks making my face look much more feminine and then handed me a cocoa brown lipstick to wear. "You look pretty," Ames said before I looked in the mirror and realized she was right. She asked if I could wear nail polish; I told her my hands weren't nearly ladylike enough for that, but yes, so long as it was a neutral color – not sparkly purple like hers. She filed my nails to an oval shape and covered them with a tan polish. It's amazing what just that did to make my hands look more feminine and how natural the polish looked considering one hand is tan and the other white. Obviously I can't make myself look pretty in combat, but maybe when I'm doing other work in my dress uniform, I could make it a point to be a little fancy. "Thank you, Ames."

"Hey, what are sisters for?"

I'm not much for hugging, but I hugged my runt of a sister anyway.

Clearly her efforts were worth it if the look on Bismuth's face when he saw me at the courthouse was any indication. All he could say at first was "Wow…" and I realized this was the first time he'd ever seen me with makeup on. My dad kissed me on the cheek and gave my hand to Bismuth. When I was eighteen or nineteen, I probably would have called this an 'archaic ritual of the patriarchy'. Today, I thought it was rather sweet. I guess my time as an invisible object taught me that we really don't have it so bad here. I could have been forced to marry Akhram at one point, but here in my country, I am free to marry whomever I chose – whomever I love. It was your typical ceremony, really – but as I repeated the vows promising to be with him – to love, cherish and respect him – through the good and the bad, in any economic situation, any medical situation, all I could think of was how much I love him and when I saw he was tearing up, I couldn't help moisture springing to my eyes either. I think this may be the first time I've ever cried from joy. Okay, it wasn't really 'crying' – just tearing up.

After we had exchanged rings and the first kiss of our married life, Bismuth slipped the nametag from my uniform and replaced it with one of his own. He put a finger to his lips and he winked at me. Technically I should wear my old nametag until my name is legally changed. Sometimes it's exciting breaking the rules. I'll start the process of changing it next week. I find it amusing how when I was younger, I always said I'd never take my husband's name, but now that I'm older and more mature and my ideals better defined, I feel blessed to be Jasper Cordero.

April 14th – When they talked of walking through sorrows together I didn't know it would be so damn soon. I knew I was stupid for letting myself get excited. We really wanted the baby, too.

April 16th – I suppose we never really will know what happened. It was supposed to be a routine ultrasound and I knew something was immediately wrong because I didn't see anything moving. His heart just stopped beating at some point. They told me I'd have to deliver, so I was induced and he was born after a brief labor. The physical pain was nothing compared to holding him in my hand and studying his perfect features. He was so tiny. I thought I'd be disgusted, but it didn't matter that he was red or that his eyes were fused; he was still our baby. There seemed to be nothing wrong with him and I figure it must've been my fault. I'm just not meant to have kids, I guess. They asked us for a name, but we hadn't even discussed that, so we gave him Bismuth's middle name – Michael, like the angel. I know I'll see my little angel again someday, but right now the pain is so crushing I can't even cry.

April 22nd – We decided against a funeral; instead, we had Michael cremated and scattered the ashes at a lake we pass when we run outside. I said a short prayer asking God to protect and care for him until one of us can be with him again. A sympathy card arrived in the mail from his parents and I expected some scathing remarks from his mom, but she actually addressed a letter to only me in which she expressed her sorrow and told me she'd had two miscarriages, so she can relate to the pain of losing Michael so early. She said it's never easy and you never forget them. She said she'll pray for us and that someday, we'll have our rainbow baby. Still can't cry.

May 15th – Bismuth spends a lot of time in the garage working on projects and I never really pay attention to what he's doing, so I usually ignore it when I go in there and see something covered with a sheet. Today though, he asked me to get him a tool and as I reached for it, I noticed something rather large covered up. I got him what he'd asked for, then uncovered his project. "Jasps, don't."

It was a crib he'd been making for our baby. Usually he works with metal, but this was wood. It was unpainted, unfinished, but recognizable. I realized it was Mother's Day. I felt my stomach clench. I finally cried…sobbed for a good hour while he held me. We both wanted that baby…we still want one and I'm so afraid I can't give him that.

Amethyst, of course, knew this is how it would end. Allie hadn't been born until the following year. She hadn't even known her sister had been pregnant when she got married. Amethyst put a hand to her own stomach. She was thirteen weeks now and hadn't known it could happen that late. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She probably should start living a little healthier and taking good care of herself. Starting with a good night's sleep…right after finishing this journal as she found either Jasper was busy or had lost her interest for writing based on the short entries in the summer and fall of that year.

December 16th – I am running out of pages and I guess it's for the best. This journal has been a chronicle of my escape from the turmoil overseas. Yesterday, Bismuth suggested we try to expand our family again and I agreed we should. Today I found out the army has other plans – I go back the beginning of January for another year and a half. I swear this is like that book I read where these kids battle to the death and I just imagine them pulling our names out of some bowl somewhere. "Sergeant Cordero." "Which one?" "Jasper." "Fuck."

When I told Bismuth today, he rested his forehead on mine. "We knew this was coming, didn't we?" I agreed; it had been a nice break being home for so long. I bet they send him just as I get back. My last two deployments did not go well, did not end well. I'm scared as all hell, but I know this is the deal I signed – the agreement we both made before we made any commitment to each other. Our duty to our country has to win out before our duty to even each other. I plan to hide these journals at my parents' house when I go there at Christmas so I can come back to them at some point in the future. However, we allowed ourselves the opportunity to take our minds off the future and just be with each other. I let him kiss my nervousness away and hold onto me letting me feel only his love for me for a few precious hours.