Marc/Dustin: Dating Games

You could be forgiven for thinking that my new "relationship" with "Dakota" consisted of nothing but sex. After all, the first few months we knew each other almost entirely took place in Ryan's bed. She's made no secret of her willingness to explore that side. Hell, we share a mattress today, which does get rather "cozy."

The morning after the events of my last post, I woke up to find her gazing at me with those pretty blue eyes. Given the late night I'd had, it was not my usual early start. 

When she noticed I was awake, she purred, "Tell me I wasn't dreaming last night."

"Depends," I said in a low tone, "What do you think happened?"

"I think you asked me to be your girlfriend," she said as she traced a line up my torso with her finger.

"I guess I did," I said with a half-smile. "I mean, I think what I said was, it's too much work to fake it as much as we have been, so we might as well try dating."

"You're such a romantic, it gets me wet," she snarked.

She leaned in and kissed me. That became a full-on make out session, bodies intertwined, hands searching one another.

She could tell my body was getting "revved up," but put the brakes on.

"I do want this, but I want something else, first," she said.

"What's that?" I asked, kissing her neck.

"A date."

I reared back, somewhat surprised. "Pardon?"

"I haven't dated in so long," she said. "The passion went out of my and Mary's relationship, and then with Ryan -- I mean, you -- it was pretty much all physical."

"I recall," I said, blushing as I remember some of the things we were into during our fling.

"I'm a lady," she said, "And I want to be treated as such. I'd like to be romanced at least a little bit."

"Oh, you're a lady?" I teased, picking her lips with mine, "Is that why your hand is on my crotch?"

"I didn't specify what kind of lady," she snickered, then removed her hand. "I want to know that this chemistry is real, before our first time."

"And what if it's not real?" I asked, "What if we find out we actually have nothing to say to each other and there's no spark?"

"Then I guess the sex will just be meaningless," she shrugged.

Arthur/Penny/Millie: Missing Date Night

There are some days when I almost want to return the attention of the various middle-school boys who awkwardly express interest in Millie, just so that I can go through the motions and maybe keep from getting too rusty at certain sorts of social interaction before next summer.  Yes, I'd be indulging certain insistent hormones as well, but I can kind of feel that part of my connection to Ray starting to atrophy and it kind of bothers me, especially because Harmon gets to go through the motions instead of me. 

In some ways, it would have been easier if I'd wound up becoming Millie the last weekend that the Inn was open for the summer.  We could have made excuses for where Penny was that would have been ridiculous but impossible to check, continued to go on what looked like daddy-daughter outings, and explained a while lot by just pulling closer in "Penny's" absence.  Heck, I might have convinced Ray to come with me (or "bring me") to The Changeling for the monthly meet-up.  We would have probably found a bunch of things that just didn't work, but word situations can give you a chance to be creative. 

The other alternative, of course, is for the three of us to just stay out do things as a family in all the time, getting used to each other and maybe making that work, but Ray and I belong to a lot of adult communities:  l socialize with other faculty and staff at the school and have authors groups, he networks with other attorneys and is active in the local Korean-American community, and there are some folks we just hang out with as a couple.  It's kind of gratifying that our absence was noted, but very frustrating to be on the outside looking in, and also kind of seeing a different dynamic forming:  On Halloween, Harmon thought it would be fun to wear one of the flight attendant uniforms from her(*) old life, getting Ray a matching pilot costume.  It was a weird fit; I was a lot taller than she was as Alicia, but Alicia was curvier, so the uniform stretched in different ways.  She also wore heels, which I very seldom did, because while Ray is confident enough in his masculinity to not find it a big deal, other people do.

(*) Pronouns are weird with Harmon.  She's spent years as Alicia, and has certainly embraced presenting herself as feminine, but there's a very masculine vibe to her and the way she approaches being a woman, like she's settling despite both Penelope and Alicia being upgrades to who she was, or like she intends to be the alpha in a given situation.  It's tough to use "she" when calling her "Harmon", but she's no longer Alicia and I'm damn sure not going to call her "Penny" or even "Penelope", and while she's gone by "Harmony", she doesn't seem to like it.

It wasn't a big deal, but it was the first really couple-y thing they've done since Harmon arrived, and it sort of broke the ice in terms of them doing more.  Not every night, but a couple times a week. and I can't deny that it's making me a little crazy.  Not afraid of Ray cheating on me or anything like that - I can read him pretty well by now, and there's definitely a sense when they get home that any fun he had was despite being out with Harmon than because of it, and he really seems to enjoy discussing it with me as my husband even if he's seeing his daughter while he does it - but the feeling of being left out of my own life hits pretty hard when they're out.  I kind of wish that I could say that Millie's life fills the void and distracts me, saying something about how much teenagers have to study compared to my day, but I can actually keep up with her classes.

What winds up happening is that I wind up playing video games online with Millie's classmates, and I don't mind that they regularly destroy me and ask why I've sucked so much since school started, but it just feels like such an isolating way to have your social life compared to what I was doing at their age and what Ray and Harmon are doing right at the same time.  Plus, the language!  I know it makes me sound like my grandmother, but I'm having a hard time getting used to tweens swearing at each other or calling girls sluts.  I've sort of grown a bit of a shell where that's concerned as Penny and forgotten a lot of the vile shit that must have gone through my mind as a boy/man, but even though they're addressing me, they're saying it about Millie, and as a mom that really drives me nuts.

But sometimes, afterwards, I think that maybe the ability to forget what something was like is part of what makes it possible to function as humans.  Not just people who have been to the Inn - although the fact that what it's like to be a man has receded quite a bit in my brain can be a blessing - but just generally.  Sure, I was probably a little brat with a foul mouth a Millie's age, and I'd probably react differently as a parent if I could really remember it clearly; my instincts to protect her might make me smother her, rather than letting her figure out where her lines are.

And, sometimes, when Ray and Harmon are out, I start to understand how she could feel so betrayed that she went out to investigate.  What I feel on date night is not quite the way a kid feels at having their parents feel there's something they'd rather do than be with them even for a few hours, but I hate that there's something really important going on without me.

And, at times, I wonder if Millie is really enjoying not having to feel all this.  I read about the girls in New York who are only a few years older than she is, and the fact that they seem to be doing okay makes me really nervous.  She really should have contacted us by now, and I don't know what's scarier - that she's landed someplace where she's in over her head, or that she might be dreading the idea of coming back now that she's been able to skip what must seem like the boring parts of one's life.

-Arthur/Penny/Millie

Marc/Dustin: Danger Zone

A few weeks ago, when John was making his pitch for me to, erm, increase my relationship with him, he said something that stuck with me: that if I didn't focus my attention his way, I would probably just go out and find another Christine.

As you might recall, during my time as Ed I struck up a friendship with a woman named Christine that teetered on something more. It wasn't really fair to either of us but she had no way of knowing that. It's just that sometimes people are in a place and they spark. Did I "look" for her? I didn't think so, but the feeling of clicking with someone at least a little bit is pretty intoxicating and it can be hard to know what the right decision is in a situation like that, your head clouded with, for lack of a better word, desire.

I resented the idea that I would be "looking" for another Christine, that I would risk pulling another person into my orbit just because of my own wants. But probably the reason I reacted so negatively -- and it helped get my little project with John off on the wrong foot -- is because there was truth to it, and I knew it. I think everybody wants love, everybody wants attention and affection and to be understood, and when you're an Inn-cursed person, especially one who isn't set on staying in a particular life, it's hard to form connections and get that. In some ways it's wrong to form connections. But if I was as solitary as I make myself out to be, if I was capable of being objective and pragmatic about the situation, I wouldn't have gotten myself into half the messes I've been in over the years.

Ifena.

You can only be so careful when you're bumping around in the world, you know, trying not to rock the boat. You can't hang a "do not disturb" sign on your heart. You can't keep everyone at arm's length all the time and explain to them, "Sorry, I'm not me, any connection you form with me will not be valid and is not worth pursuing." You can't "ghost" or White Fang someone who lives in the same house as you.

It started back in summer, early on when we were just settling into this status quo. I found myself in a body that seemed to enjoy being up with the sun and brimming with energy. At that time, I was sort of bonding with Mary, who was on a similar bio-rhythm. I was trying to get to know her and learn more about the person I had involuntarily dragged into this mess.

Mary's and my relationship/friendship/dynamic is what it is -- cordial, understanding, even with the big secret between us, but eventually when she started working her routine changed and I didn't see her as much. But who I did see was Ifena. Ify. She took over the role of preparing me a coffee upon my return, and then we would hang out on the front porch and play the day's NYT Games (she's got a real knack for Connections.) Being that I wasn't comfortable talking about "life" as Dustin yet, we'd talk about her, her ambitions, whether she would follow the roadmap she had laid out with her parents to go to law school. I had to recuse myself from that conversation since my experiences in the legal profession left me pretty jaded (although as Chantelle I found some more joy.) She's expressed doubts about her commitment to it, which of course signals to me it's a bad idea, but said she likes the idea of being a public defender, "But my parents would disown me if I went to all that trouble to make what a public defender makes."

Through several conversations, we forged a bond that the real Dustin would never have gotten with her, which caused me some anxiety. What happens when the real guy comes back into her life and disappoints her that he can no longer finish the crossword?

I tried to push these thoughts out of my head, even as Ify started accompanying me to the gym, spending time on the elliptical while I lifted. I started sensing we were approaching the Danger Zone. Ify was getting the best version of Marc, and I could feel myself wanting to be good for her, and starting to suspect that perhaps the feeling was mutual -- even if she played it down to appease PJ, Charly and Madison, who still see me as the original Dustin.

That's around the time John and Mary came to me, and I've since thought that maybe they could tell I was drifting based on the timing of their pitch... they need "Dustin" onside as much as I need them. Whether there was some aspect of John being attracted to me, or what, it was necessary to shore up our relationship credentials for financial benefit and social protection: I have to dissipate whatever is generating between myself and Ify. If there's a perceived crack in the Dustin-Dakota relationship, who knows what that opens me up to?

(I mean, if she were to make an advance, I should, and would, say no obviously, but having an existing relationship makes it that much easier to stay safe.)

That all brings us to Saturday night. Madison was having a mental health episode. Everyone else in the house was too high to drive, but John and I were already asleep and sober, so Ify came to wake me up and ask if I could drive Madison and her to the hospital (it's not my place to explain what the nature of Madison's emergency was, only that she needed help.)

Dutifully, I pulled some jeans and a shirt on and drove them, with John staying back. As they examined Madison, Ify and I talked, and she asked "Not that it's any of my business... but why were you sleeping on the floor?"

"Oh, you know," I stammered, "Dakota's a real blanket hog, and we just, kind of..."

"Uh huh," she kind of laughed, "I mean, you guys really seem like you're going through it. I don't understand it. Do you love her or not?"

I hate lying. For a lawyer I'm surprisingly bad at it. "I do..." I said noncommittally. "We're just, yeah, it's been rough lately. I literally could not explain it to you if I tried."

"Feels like she's really shown a different side of herself," Ify said. We are so accustomed to just gliding under the radar of people's awareness that we forget that some people really do know when others are out of character.

I said noting, and she kind of brushed her shoulder to mine -- a gesture that felt both innocent and intimate -- and told me she was there for me. Then we talked about Madison and she said that my being here showed who I really was.

We got home just before the sun came up and I crawled into bed -- literally, next to Dakota.

"Not that I mind, but what is this?" She said sleepily.

"I have a few things to say," I said, having rehearsed the whole drive home. "First, this is not a real relationship. It's a matter of convenience. I still think it will be healthiest if we all go our separate ways after returning to the Inn. But it's so much work to be in a fake relationship. People need partners. People need connections. If we are to keep going like this, I think we need to-- I need to try harder to make it feel real. I just need to give in already. Get over myself and just accept that for the time being, it's us. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Hm," she murmured ambivalently, "Nice opening statement, counselor. I'm not even sure I was awake for all of it, but if you're saying what I think you're saying, I have two requests."

"Uh huh?"

She rolled over to face me, her eyes glistening in the predawn light of the room. "One, kiss me. Right now, with nobody watching."

I leaned in to find her lips with mine and gave her probably the first real kiss I ever have, maybe even going back to our first meeting.

"That's the stuff," she sighed contentedly.

"And the other?"

"When you blog about this, just call me Dakota."

"Okay," I said. "Starting now."

And so, Dakota and I enter the next phase of our ever-evolving -- dare I say it -- relationship. 

Hopefully I don't end up regretting this.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Fake It Til You Make It

Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I get myself into these situations. Mostly, I figure, it's be being an idiot. And a rather emotionally susceptible one at that, as much as I try to keep people at a remove, for my own safety and theirs.

It's been over a month since "Dakota" and I started working on openly portraying a couple. What some of you readers may glean, but others may not, is that as much as it goes with the territory, it's actually not always easy to play-act like that. In my previous lives, I was somewhat lucky -- As Chantelle, I only had to pretend that Damian and I were not involved, which became easier once I realized I had lost my wife to her new life. As Ryan, I didn't have to pretend anything, and as Ed I only had to pretend to be a crotchety old father figure to Pamela. It's easy to fill a role for somebody who doesn't know you're lying, because you can draw on whatever feelings you really are having. But it's really hard to perform and be a co-conspirator.

The truth about the Inn is that while having your body changed (and changed again and again) can unlock parts of you you may not have known, by and large people can't pretend to be something they're not for very long. The Inn's curse, which insulates us from suspicion, does more to protect our secret than any ability to portray the person we appear to be. All of that is to say John makes for a very weird Gen Z: serious and contemplative and icy, a far cry from what I believe to be the bubbly and available blonde Dakota. In terms of John failing to "pass," witness his conversations with housemates like PJ and Ify about the prospects of Mamdani's campaign for Mayor of New York. ("Sure I'd vote for him, but does he really appeal to that many people? And if he wins, don't you think he'll encounter problems governing if he doesn't at least play ball a little?" Doesn't sound like anything a real 23-year-old would say.)

John and Mary have both noted how stilted it sounds when I call "Dakota" "Babe" or fumble to make tentative physical contact with her. Even though I have known John for a long while at this point, it feels like this person is a stranger to me.

John doesn't seem to have the same issues, I can see it in his big blue eyes and the slight smile he gives me. That's the kind of stuff that sends a really mixed signal because part of me thinks it's authentic, that John really likes me and is using Dakota's body to express that. Getting all this attention is a little bittersweet, especially when Mary happens to be in the room -- John certainly isn't modifying his behavior out of sensitivity to her, he'll behave the same way whether she can see us or not. Mary, for her part, just seems to endure it. 

The strange thing is, away from everyone else, as Marc and John, there actually is a connection. I feel like John has been trying to actively remind me of reasons why our fling became so strong in the first place. We'll go out to run errands and he'll strike up a conversation about serious topics like what it would look like to finally stop hopping from body to body, what I hope for the future, what the difference between performing and real feelings... rational debates that remind me he's a smart, insightful, inquisitive guy.

Things that make me wonder why I'm holding him at arm's length because he's all that in a cute, seemingly available package. The other day we were at the pharmacy and I reached for his hand without thinking, without anyone being around, and he held on and smiled at me before I realized what I had instinctively done. ("We can table that," he snickered when I seemed visible uncomfortable.)

We've bonded. At night in our bedroom, we'll watch old movies like Rocky or Apocalypse Now or the French Connection. He told me he cried afterward remembering how Gene Hackman and his wife died. ("It just hit me in a different way all of a sudden. It just hit me and made me feel.. strange.") Then afterward I'll slip onto my makeshift bed on the floor, and as usual he'll ask me, "Isn't your back getting sore? There's plenty of room..." 

And there are nights I wonder why I just don't give in. The Inn has given so much to others and taken so much from me that I wonder, on balance, how it could be wrong for me to just submit and enjoy this. I have some guilt toward Mary -- as much as she seemingly endorsed this scenario, I'm not sure I can feel like I have clean hands until she knows the truth and every party involved has full knowledge and informed consent. Yet at the same time, I'm not rushing to spill the beans, maybe because I want that barrier there (maybe I think I don't deserve happiness?)

And then there's John himself. Though he denies it, how can I truly believe him when he says he didn't time his return to the Inn to coincide with mine? To make a deliberate effort to cast his wife aside in a way that absolves him and positions him intimately with me? Is that paranoid? John is a savvy individual and must have recognized the Inn's potential from the start. I wonder if he's capable of something like that.

And even if not, doesn't the fact that I have such a suspicious mind mean something? How can I commit to this person if this is what I think of them?

And all the same... if not John, who could I ever find happiness with, in this ever-changing chaotic life?

-Marc

Ande: Movember!

Has any girl turned guy talked about shaving on this blog yet?  I haven't seen any, but then we're really outnumbered by the folks who went the other way, which makes sense.  I mean, it's hard losing a big part of your identity and all, but a lot of day to day stuff gets easier and who wants to complain about the creepy teacher not staring at your boobs, or claim that morning wood is more annoying than periods?  There's some hidden things that aren't great in terms of expectations and I still worry about losing my temper and losing control, but I know Andie got the more difficult situation. 

And shaving your face is pretty easy.  I haven't gone more than a day or two without doing it since becoming Andrew and by now it's just part of my morning routine.  At first, it was really important - neither of us wanted to be the guy who grows a full beard in high school, it was an unwanted reminder of my new masculinity every time I looked in the mirror, and it's just itchy and annoying when you miss a day.  Some guys get really into it, heating up foam and using a straight razor, but when I was a girl, I just took a bath rather than a shower and used a pink disposable every few weeks, since it's not like I was wearing miniskirts to school or on the swim team.  As a guy, I've basically been doing the same, just keeping a razor in the shower and doing it by feel while the steam and hot water has my pores or follicles or whatever open.  Don't even need shaving cream. 

There's some downsides to this, of course.  I'm basically doing it blind and shaving the sideburns off entirely rather than have them wind up uneven, and that wasn't really a big deal at first, and even desirable - I was still thinking of myself as a girl and didn't want 'em - but now I'm starting to look a little more baby-faced than I really want to, and it kind of feels like the sort of thing a grown man should be able to do. 

So, when a couple guys in one of my study groups came in looking a bit scruffy and mentioned that they were growing their beards out for "Movember", I figured what the hell?  If I don't like it, I can shave it off, and it's dumb to not see what I look like now that I've more or less accepted that this is who I'm going to be .

Right now, I look like a caterpillar is clinging to the very bottom of my upper lip for dear life. 

It's apparently hilarious. 

Don't take my word for it; Hildy apparently didn't even see it the first time she leaned in for a kiss and came away saying yuck, although she then said it was promising for just a few days' growth, with only a little detectable insincerity.  Griff was walking by and asked what was so funny and said he would try that.  He woke up the next morning with more than I'd managed in three days.

And I just got off a Zoom call with Andie, who saw what was on my face and then immediately started laughing, putting her head down on her desk to smother it, holding up a finger after a minute to say she needed another few seconds when I asked if she was done, and then letting out one last snicker when she sat up straight again. 

"Sorry, man, I just feel like I dodged a bullet, you know?"

"Har har.  But did you?  Do you think I might suck at growing hair because of some Inn thing, like it didn't make me male enough?"

She snorted.  "If it worked that way, I wouldn't get the cramps I do."

I allowed that, and talked with her a bit more.  She insisted on taking screenshots to show Mom & Dad, and that reaction will probably be interesting.

-Ande

Arthur/Penny/Millie: Halloween Project

Between tennis, and school, and editing a manuscript, and trying to find out where my daughter had vanished to, I hadn't even thought about Halloween, at least, not until I was hanging out with a couple of Millie's friends after school and one of them looked at me nervously and asked if it would be weird if we did KPop Demon Hunters as a group costume.

Which I should have seen coming; much as a tween like Millie isn't going to get that excited about a cartoon, or at least isn't going to show it, a thing everyone was watching that was all about Korean girls was a big deal, especially since, between Ray and myself, we kind of get frustrated in terms of finding stuff a Korean-American girl her age would like that doesn't position girls like her as a sidekick.  Her tastes don't really match up with ours, and both Ray and I will look at a lot of the Korean import stuff on Netflix and think it's too violent.  It's kind of a reminder that, while I may be closing in on 20 years as a woman, I did it without ever having been a girl, and a lot of this is new to me.

Also?  It's kind of cool that her friends asked if this would be weird, given that Millie's the only ethnically Korean or Asian one among them.  I'm not sure that 13-year-old Arthur would have really given a lot of thought to appropriating something like that.  Blackface probably would have been right out, but a cool costume?  Maybe not.

We could have gotten pre-made costumes easily - I think half the girls in Millie's class are dressing as KPop Demon Hunters this year - but I made the suggestion that it would be more fun to make our own.  I've kind of gotten used to doing this; as Penny, I'm about six feet tall, which means I'm kind of limited in terms of options when I just go shopping for regular clothes, but for Halloween, anything short and sexy is going to show off my entire ass, which was kind of fun as a younger woman but kind of inappropriate when chaperoning a party for kids or answering the door for trick-or-treaters.  So I've gotten pretty good at making my own costumes, although I'm not any kind of expert cosplayer who goes to comic book conventions to show them off (and I've attended conventions to promote my book, so I know of what I speak).  There's a whole blog post about guys who become women and have to learn how to alter clothing or otherwise sew and then feeling strange because it's one of those gendered activities that might be a blind spot for a lot of women, too.

The point is, though I have made an effort to train myself to be good at it and find it a lot of fun, I vastly overestimated how much a couple of twelve-year-old girls would maintain interest in this and wound up doing most of it myself.  Which was fine; it gives me something to do after school and Millie's friends think I am/she is cool for doing all this, so I'm doing what I can to maintain her friendships while not actually hanging out with a bunch of kids.  Millie's friends are, by and large, pretty cool kids, but it gets very weird when they start talking about boys in their/our class.  I'll come home and think, do all of these costumes need to include crop-tops?  Am I worried about this as a mom because it'll be chilly in the evenings all week or because I know boys are going to be looking at our waists?

I did a pretty darn good job, though - I think we definitely will look better than the folks who went to Spirit Halloween, and kind of wonder what Millie will think when/if she sees the photos Ray took last night to post on social media.  That was maybe the most surreal thing, striking superhero poses with the girls and finding myself giggling along with them.  It's not entirely a tween thing - adults who get dressed up for Halloween do the same thing - but I was definitely vibing with them in that moment in a way I'm kind of wary of most of the time, knowing how the Inn can mess with your head.

The most annoying thing: Harmon being a jerk about me borrowing some of my own boots for the costume, or when I ordered a couple things online.  She acts like she's teasing me, but even where Halloween costumes are concerned, I think it's really important to not rule play mother and daughter in the apartment unless there are guests. 

Anyway, I hope Millie sees the pictures her father is posting and likes them, and maybe even wants to try the costume on once we're back to normal 

- Arthur/Penny/Millie

Tom/Kiara: Down but not out

So here I am.

20 weeks -- five months in this unlikely role. Teenager. Daughter. Mother.

There are times, God help me, that I seem to forget I was ever Tom Nishimura -- was ever myself. Not to be too dramatic. It's actually easier in some ways to look at it that way. I have a lot in front of me. A daughter. A family. School. None of it is supposed to be mine, but that's what I'm dealing with. I don't work in "supposed to," I have an objective reality. Today I am Kiara. I might not always be, and maybe if the tides somehow completely turn I might even be Tom again, but... well.

I don't even think of myself as a woman. Or a man for that matter. Sure, when I pull my clothes off at night there's a woman's anatomy, but what I am is just a big, sleep-deprived, milk-producing mess, one with long hair (but not as long as it used to be thanks to a very helpful hairdresser I befriended) and who sits to pee. Gender, I'm learning, is even more of an illusion than I thought -- even with my body this way, I don't feel too much like a girl and I don't seem to get many of the "looks" some women get just for existing, maybe because of my constantly disheveled state. ("Sex" is a little more tangible, as I learn every month when the cramps come in.)

Still, I'm nothing like the Tom I used to be. I even considered excluding his name from this post's title, but... that would be giving in to something I'm not ready to face yet.

Sorry, for someone whose job is communicating clearly, I must not be making a lot of sense. Chalk that up to said lack of sleep. At the very least, the chaos of these opening paragraphs -- the first thing I've written in months -- helps express my frantic state of mind. I'm Kiara. I'm Tom. I'm a kid. I'm an adult. I'm a man. I'm a mommy.

Summer in North Carolina was... hot, sticky, long, and irritable. I integrated, as best I could, with Kiara's family. One thing that can't be denied is that they know how to take care of kids. They know that when a 17-year-old gives birth, the response is to both step up and help, and also always make sure she knows she screwed up. It's a rite of passage that I gather Kiara's mom faced, and her mom too. On that note, there is always someone to take care of the baby, to feed her strained squash, change her and keep her occupied, so that I can focus on living my life -- whatever kind of life I'm supposed to have. Of course, I'm still pumping, and breastfeeding directly when I can. Which sucks because in the last few months the girl has started getting teeth.

Sometimes I look at her, and I think about where we were when we started this -- how small she was, how new it  all was to me... and I melt. I have to admit it. I didn't want to be a parent, certainly not a mom, and yet I look at the little peanut and I think, holy crap, we've already been through so much together. It humbles me, and it also fills me with rage at the notion that Kiara may have willingly and knowingly walked away from this (we don't know for sure yet, so let's give her the benefit of the doubt.) 

Shit, I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking about it. That's the Kiara in me.

That's the real curse. Not losing my junk, or my professional standing or the years of personal living. That could all be returned. But being linked with this baby, feeling like she's my responsibility and I'm all she's got (which is not true and yet feels suspiciously true) and that I would be doing a bad thing by leaving her... that's the curse. That's the thing that's got me damned.

As far as daily-life goes, I'm navigating that daily tango of support and judgment. I try not to take it personally -- I can't be held accountable for decisions that Kiara made before I became her, but I'm the one that has to live with them. Ultimately I decided not to enroll at her high school. That would have been too weird. Kiara herself may have felt some attachment to friends and teachers and the fact that she was only one year away from graduation, but Tom-as-Kiara prefers a different approach. Instead I signed up for Adult Learning to pursue a GED. With the pace of classes, it's something that would take more than a year -- which means that if I get away from this life by next summer I won't have graduated for her. It's a better environment than a normal high school because everyone else here has some similar thing about them to brand them as an outcast: a criminal record, a history of addiction, a brain injury, kids of their own. I've made really good friends with the Indian woman named Sunita who is new to the country and reasonably smart but needs something to show for it.

I'm not ready to give up on Tom's life. I still have his goals in front of me: publish my expose, learn the truth about the original Kiara, do something that feels like putting this situation right. They just feel a lot further away than they once did, with a lot of other obstacles in between. Sometimes it's hard to determine what's really important -- the big things I can't affect, or the little ones that I'll get in trouble for ignoring.

Like homework. You've still got to do algebra when you have a kid at 17.

Hope to speak to you again soon.

-T/K