Aidan/Emilia: "No daughter of mine..."

We'd planned a movie night on Friday - one of the local places doing some spooky stuff for Halloween - but Rusty sent a text about a last-minute thing with his co-workers on the subway, and raced into Monica's room to change as soon as he got back. I didn't think much of it until he was crossing the living area to leave and noticed that he was wearing more makeup than usual, and there were black stockings poking out from under his peacoat, nestled in spike heels.

"Hey, let me see what you're wearing."

He rolled his eyes as he turned around and undid the coat's belt, opening it up to show a blue Playboy Bunny costume that, if you ignored the hose, covered about as much as a one-piece swimsuit, only that likely wouldn't push his breasts up for deep cleavage.  "Can I go now?  Razzie and Chandra live closer to town and I don't want to keep them waiting."

I shook my head.  "Uh-uh.  Go find something else for this thing you didn't tell me was a Halloween party."

He seemed genuinely surprised at my reaction.  "What do you mean?  I'm sure I told you--"  He got out his phone and checked his outgoing messages.  "Huh, I guess I didn't."

"That's not the point and you know it."

"But I can't change, we decided on this when we realized we all had one but in different colors - heck, you might have one in your closet because there are pictures on Instagram from the girls' freshman year of them all wearing matching costumes--"

"Rusty.  Son.  You are a fifteen-year-old boy and I can't let you go out with your tail hanging out and breasts served up like an appetizers at a party where everyone will be drunk or high by the end of the night, especially when you consider that your friends do not know who you really are and that you've got no experience with all that!"

He sighed, like he thought I was the naive one.  "Dad, I ride the subway every day during rush-hour, and someone always decides to push his groin into my butt or cop a feel, and when I go out on sales calls, so many guys your age are trying to stare down my shirt!  I'm used to it!"

"Rusty, listen to me.  You are not used to what you're asking for at a party dressed like that.  You just aren't."

"'What I'm asking for?'  Is that what you're doing when you go grocery shopping showing more skin than this - asking for something?"

I sighed.  "I don't mean it that way.  We're not asking for it, but a lot of girls are, and a lot of guys think all girls are.  I'm not afraid to admit that scares me for all three of us, and I'm trying to face those fears."  I took a deep breath, knowing that arguing with a kid just gets them to dig in more.  "Look, you guys have more first-hand experience in how people treat pretty young women so far, I admit that.  But I have seen a lot more, okay?  I'm not talking out of my ass here.  Could you just wear something else and help with my peace of mind?"

He stared at me for a moment, and stomped back to Monica's room as much as you can in footwear like that, grumbling something about not knowing what the point of spending a year as a girl who looked like this was if you couldn't even dress sexy for Halloween.  He slammed the door behind him, of course.

Kutter had been quiet for the whole time, and pulled out his phone.  "Sooooo, I just want to say, we're having a Halloween party at work on Friday and I've already ordered this."  He pushed it toward my face so I could see the Amazon page.  "It's just Bride of Frankenstein, not, uh, Sexy Bride of Frankenstein."

I smiled.  "I think that's okay.  Unless there's a Frankenstein's Monster and it's a couples costume."

He stuck out his tongue.  "Ew, gross.  I mean, there might be, but it would be a total coincidence.  Like, even if there were, it would be crazy to start something that's just gonna end in May or June."  The pause got a bit awkward.  "But there's not.  Like, it wouldn't be a bad thing if I were attracted to guys, before or after all this, but, no, nothing's going to happen."  He paused again.  "I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

I chuckled, glad to do so.  "No, you're fine.  It's weird.  Just let me know if it gets weirder, okay?"

He nodded, and then Monica's door slammed open and Rusty started stomping across the room again, staring at his phone.'s screen where I could see the redhead, Razzy  "Sorry, I'm just leaving the apartment, and I'm not gonna match, because my roommate ruined it.  See you in twenty."  He hung up and spun around, opening his coat wide.  "So is this something you'd let a 15-year-old daughter wear?"

It was a cheerleader's uniform with white sneakers, probably from Monica's high school days, although the skirt had been hemmed so that he probably shouldn't bend over, the top had similarly been shortened to a crop top, and I was pretty sure he was wearing a padded bra underneath.  He'd left before I could raise those objections, slamming one last door.

I quickly put my shoes on and ran downstairs, but by the time I got to street level, I couldn't even guess which of two nearby subway stations he'd gone to.  I tried calling, and texting, but knew I wasn't going to get a response, and went back up to the apartment, dropping myself on the sofa beside Kutter, who said not to worry.  "If it makes you feel better, they do look out for each other.  Like, remember when you saw him at the street fair?"

I grumbled a little.  "I know they do, for now, but girls that age - your age - can get really catty and turn on each other.  I remember one of your mother's friends..."  I trailed off, remembering the whole story.  "Why is he like this?  You aren't!"

I could sense Kutter not wanting to answer, then heard him sigh.  "Dad, you do know that he was shorter than most of the girls in his class and got friend-zoned by the first couple he asked out, right?  And then one morning he wakes up a girl, but all grown up and looking really cute.  He really likes what he sees in the mirror the way he would if she were someone else, only he can dress her up and have her pose, like she's his own doll or something.  He... kinda does that a lot, way more than, uh..."  He seemed to realize what he'd be confessing but decided not to and cleared his throat.  "Trust me, he just likes hanging out with Chandra and Razzie and havnig two pretty girls treating him like one of the gang."

"Ugh."  He was probably right, though.  "Still..."

We both seemed to have no idea where to go next.  At some point Kutter broke the silence and asked if we were still going to the movie, and I said he could if he wanted, but I was going to wait up.  He nodded and said he'd stay out of trouble while I, ironically, got a couple beers from the fridge.

Emilia, it turns out, is kind of a lightweight, and I fell asleep in front of the TV, not hearing either of them get in until Rusty was closing Monica's bedroom door at a mere 12:15am.

I barely saw him during the weekend - there was an event to promote the energy drink at and he headed out for a couple of early runs that he didn't come back from for hours, until I'd gotten the hint.  Still, this morning he at least thanked me for the coffee I brewed for them before heading off to work, and looked a little embarrassed as he walked out the door and wished me good luck on today's interviews.

We'll probably be all right.

-Aidan/Emilia

Cary: The Home Stretch

Even though the birthday on Krystle's driver's license isn't for another couple of months, we had the usual party celebrating her real birthday last week, and I'm not going to lie, this period tends to mess us up a bit.  It's been especially confusing for her this year, because Jonah has been hitting milestones - her sister's wedding, getting engaged herself, buying a house - while Krys is still grinding her way through high school a second time, and the fact that it's not familiar is both exciting and confusing.

And part of the "confusing" part is on me.

When Elaine showed up as Mackenzie eight years ago, it felt temporary, even as I took her in and arranged for custody.  It took two years for her to get her own life back and for Krystle to become the new Mackenzie, looking 11 but actually 25, having grown up one way and then spent some time another.  Even though she had arranged to become Mackenzie deliberately, we don't live far away from the Inn and Krys can be impulsive.  I'm kind of shocked that she never decided to take a short-cut back to adulthood, especially back when she was a lot younger.  Given her previous history and the idea that she might not stick it out, we really didn't plan for college.

And here we are, visiting schools, trying to figure out which ones with dance majors will take a girl who was pretty good as a cheerleader and has some impressive TikToks but nothing really formal, so it's also hard to find scholarships.  It's also not likely that what she did before arriving at the Inn would impress admissions boards too much.  She tells me it's not my responsibility, and she'll just take out loans, but, well, it sounds like something she's really worked hard to make not sound like a guilt trip.  Or maybe I'm hoping it is.

Maybe it's not.  Maybe she'll get accepted into college, find an apartment, and never come back here.  We're heading into what seems like a year of lasts right now.  Last birthday together.  Last Halloween, and all the holidays coming up.

The thing that brings this up was that I couldn't get to sleep the other night - Krys laughs at my caffeine-free Diet Coke ("what even is the point of that?") but when I have a can of the regular stuff with supper I am off for the next day and a half - which meant I was still up and watching TV when her date dropped her off at 12:30am Saturday night.  As she was taking off her shoes in the mud room, she looked into the den at me.  "Are you waiting up for your daughter like a real dad?"

I snorted, and she walked in, not terribly shy about putting one foot up on the coffee table so she could give her foot a massage after an evening in three-inch heels despite her wearing a skirt.  "Why, should I?"

She shrugged.  "Hell if I know.  My dad was in jail when I was born and who knows where he wound up after that?  Probably no need with Clay, though.  He's a horny little nerd but nothing I can't handle."  She leaned back and laughed.

I tilted my head at her.  "You been drinking?"

She shook her head.  "Nah, just got into his Dad's edibles."  That made her giggle more.  "God, what a thing to say!"

"I suppose it is.  Good thing Elaine didn't want me going out with anyone even if I did stay as her long enough for it to seem appealing.  Can you imagine that?"

"You bet your ass I can!  You would have been nervous and sweet and made great conversation and then screeeeeeamed when he found your g-spot!"  She sighed.  "I kinda wish I could have had that.  Like, the first time I f---ed a girl as Jonah, I knew I was a guy at his sexual peak who knew what women liked and I was going to be the best lover this b---- who wasn't as hot as the real me had ever had.  Then, y'know, I held off for a while because I was surrounded by babies, but I figured that maybe Jimmy would be exciting, because he was my first as Mac and he was a big ol' football player, but nah.  It was just like riding a bike."

"You sound disappointed."

"I'm not.  Jimmy was fun and Clay's a nice kid and, like, I don't feel like I've been some kind of pedo with either of them, really, because I did kind of grow up with them, but I spent a lot of the last few years thinking I was getting a fresh start and maybe I've just taken the long way 'round to where I've been."  Satisfied that she'd done all she could with her feet, she turned ninety degrees and rested her head on my leg, her feet up on the sofa's arm.  "What do you think?"

I laid a hand on her belly.  "I think you apparently don't give yourself nearly as much credit when you're high as when you're not.  You get pretty good grades, you've got a bunch of friends - you never tell me about any old friends you miss - and you're making plans for the future.  Sounds like a new start to me."

She grunted.  "I dunno.  Maybe; I mean, you are the man I've had the longest relationship with in my life."  Then she started laughing.  "Oh my god, Cory, can you imagine my little girlfriends talking about this stuff with their dads and stepdads?  They'd die, just be like 'I'm dead'."

I helped her to her feet.  "You know what, let's get you to bed."

She laughed again.  "That is probably a really good idea!"

She skipped brushing her teeth or even wiping off her makeup and crawled into bed, sticking her hands out from under the covers to drop her top and skirt to the floor, then was asleep almost before she asked me if I could close the door.  I did, trying not to linger too long on the sight of her.

I've been thinking of that sight for the past few days.  She's really almost an adult on the outside again now, and from what I hear from the Dads and Moms I meet around town, girls the age she looks do their damnedest to not let people see them as vulnerable.  It may be the last time I see her like that.

I imagine it doesn't mean as much to me as it does to a real father, but I'll miss it.

-Cary

Dave/Chris: The Secret is out

As I mentioned before, we reopened the cafe on October 1. Because it opens for breakfast at 7am, and we were still not sure of ourselves, we arrived at 3am, to make sure we had ample time to prepare. We had been there a few times since we arrived, to learn most of it. We were both quite confident using the cash register and making coffee. We had set the tables and familiarized ourselves with where the stock was. Craig, the part time employee, was set to arrive at 6am to help out. All we needed to do now was wait for customers.

I was going to work in the kitchen to start with. I'm not a great cook, but cooking breakfast is mostly about eggs, bacon and toast. Even I can manage that. All things considered, we didn't do too badly. Craig was a big help, and must have wondered how his bosses forgot how to do basic things in the last month. We're getting the hang of though, and I'm sure we'll be fine within a few weeks.

The cafe opens at 7am every morning and closes at 2pm, 7 days a week. We only really need 2 people working every day. The weekends are a little busier, but can still be handled by just 2 people. Craig normally works on Friday and the weekends, which allows me and Shane to alternate between working 5 and 6 days a week. It's not difficult work, but we have to get up by 5am, to get to the cafe by 6:30am. We clean and do as much prep after we close, or we'd have to arrive even earlier. 

At first, Shane was even getting up much earlier, at around 4am, because he needed extra time for his hair and make-up. It wasn't like he was really styling himself, but even the basics took him a long time. He's quickly gotten better, though, so he's now getting up only around 10 minutes before me.

We asked Craig to come in for the whole of the first week, which he was happy to do after having no shifts for several weeks. I told him that we just needed him to get back into the groove of things after being closed for so long. It was a terrible reason, but he didn't say anything. This last week, we went back to the usual schedule. I think we can handle it.

Today after work, Shane brought something up that was very obvious, but I was hoping he would not notice, or ignore: "Why are all our customers gay?" "They're not all gay", I responded "and anyway, why does it make a difference? We're in San Francisco, and there are a lot more gay people than Indy." "No" he said "pretty much every customer is gay, or trans or something. Look at Craig, even he's gay, and I'm fairly certain that Cindy used to be a man. We...well Chris and Sylvia are a straight couple. Why would they have a gay cafe and so many gay friends? Can you explain it?" I just looked at him sheepishly. "You know why" he said "I can tell by the look on your face. Tell me."

So I did. I didn't have much of a choice really. I told him about how Sylvia is bisexual and how she was in a gay relationship with Chris, before Chris came out as trans. I told him about the scars and not having a penis, and weekly hormone injections. Once I finished, Shane got up and walked towards his room, without saying a word. When he got to the door, he turned around and said: "I'm not pissed with you because you don't have a cock. That's not your fault. But I've been 100% honest with you so far, and told you everything, and you kept this from me for weeks. Why?" I couldn't say why. He was right, so I just stammered an apology. He said "I need you to be completely honest and open about everything from now on. So....is there anything else I need to know?" I told him there wasn't.

The trouble is, that that's not true, and it's something that feels much bigger than this was....

Aidan/Emilia: Stay-at-home Mom (?)

The boys and I had another mysterious wire transfer appear in the "Emilia", "Katey", and "Monica" checking accounts, although they're about 25% less than last month, and we don't quite know what to make of that - are the girls reading the blog and seeing that the boys have jobs and thus don't need to be supported quite so much?  Are their new lives maybe not quite so flush as they thought?  Are they thinking that the man twice their age will grow dependent if they don't wean me off their charity?

I'm still interviewing, and some things are looking promising, but the pattern we've settled into over the past couple of weeks is starting to make a little sense:  I get up and just sort of putter around for a bit as Kutter and Rusty look to beat each other to the shower, get dressed, help each other with make-up, and then wave good-bye as they head for the subway, Kutter heading in to Manhattan and Rusty to the beverage company's office in Queens, although he may or not be staying there; they've got this motor-scooter thing he uses to visit shops and even make deliveries and is often only in the office for a half hour or so at a time.

(Aside: There is something weirdly encouraging about how the boys have watched a bunch of YouTube makeup tutorials and can use the tools but don't entirely trust the results yet and kind of need each other to say they whether look natural or not.)

(Aside Number Two: Since Rusty only has a learner's permit - I don't think new-Rusty has taken her/his driver's test yet - I kind of figured it worked out well that we wound up in New York, rather than someplace my apparently-adult son would have to drive everywhere, and while he's probably better at public transportation than either Kutter or I, now he's got to be responsible for a vehicle and I don't know whether it being this or a car would be better.)

Once they're gone, I can start my day, and I can't say it's really a routine yet, but it's becoming one.  Anyway, I take a shower and then spend a few minutes just looking at myself naked in the mirror after that and try to gauge my reaction,  I haven't talked about it much besides when the boys comment on it and it seems relevant, because it seems like a stupid thing to complain about, but I have become conventionally attractive:  Natural blonde hair that started out chin-length and is now either due for a cut or growing out, blue eyes, a few freckles on either side of a pug nose (used to have a Roman), soft but not really puffy lips.  Nice neck.  Perky D-cup breasts that don't really look that big because I'm almost 5'9", a waist that isn't skinny but which lets my hips flare a bit, nice legs.  I wouldn't say I've got something over my sons here, but it's kind of good to set in my head that this is how people see me, and if there's anything I should be paying attention to.

I lay what I'm going to wear for the day out but just throw on a bra and panties before clinching my bathrobe around my belly for housework.  There's not a whole lot to do, especially if I don't go into Rusty's room, but long hair can clog up a sink real fast if you don't pay attention, we all shaved our legs that morning, and the boys made a bit of a mess in the living room while gaming the night before.  There's dishes stacked up in the sink from last night and this morning.  The hamper's not quite full enough for laundry today.

Then I get dressed.  I'm trying to get myself used to mostly feminine clothes these days, both out of sympathy to the boys and just as practice.  No interviews (in person or virtual) today, so I'm trying to push myself a bit, with a pink turtleneck that really hugs my breasts, tight jeans, and boots that go up to the middle of my shins on top of a three-inch wedge heel.  I feel like this should look good, but I feel sort of ridiculous, and I must look very silly trying to walk in those things, even if Rusty said I'm doing better.

I go shopping anyway.  Part of living in the city and not having a car is that getting groceries is about getting what you need and can carry whenever the opportunity presents itself as opposed to stocking up for the next couple weeks, even if you're going to a supermarket.  For me, it's also about doing ordinary things as Emilia, getting used to interacting with young women as peers and folks I'm instinctively seeing as peers as something else.  A lot of guys my age, let alone younger, are staring at my breasts and following my butt as I walk by, and I'm trying to build up some armor about it getting to me the way someone Emilia's age probably has already and not being confused by it.  I still tend to see people staring at me and wonder if I've got barbecue sauce on my shirt, looking down, and thinking, no, just boobs.  I also kind of wonder of, when interviewing, I come off as too familiar to hiring managers, or even talking down to folks in their thirties. 

Then I come home and bake. Because flour is cheaper than bread, it makes the apartment smell great, and it fills time.  Most recipes are pretty easy, and kneading is something you do with your hands, and it means there's a little pride when the bread or cookies come out of the oven.  I might even get a sourdough starter going off this goes on much longer, which I guess is a thing twenty-something girls in Brooklyn do.  If they haven't texted to say they'll be late, I'll start cooking dinner. 

The funny thing about this routine is that a lot of this is not new to me, but we've had chore boards to divide all this up since the boys were ten or so; even during Covid, I didn't really have the luxury of being a stay-at-home dad.  We couldn't really afford a maid or anything, so the boys pitched in. I kind of figured we'd have to make more effort to get stuff done as their extracurriculars picked up.  Me handling the housework and waiting for them to get home and tell me about their days at work is very weird. 

I cannot wait to get a job of my own so things get a little more back to normal and I can put Emilia practice on the back burner. 

-Aidan/Emilia

Daryl/Zee: First Thursday Club

As I mentioned last time, one of the reasons I decided to settle in Boston is that there's Inn people there, but it hasn't really been an official support system until, I guess, fairly recently, when one of the local folks decided that she owned a bar and might as well get folks together there.  Invitations got sent out and, after work, I headed the other direction up the Red Line and then took a buss from the end of the line a little way up Massachusetts Avenue and found "The Changeling".

Props on the clever name - it is, at heart, an Irish pub, even if the Irish lady who runs it used to be a Texan (and thus puts unusually good barbecue on the menu) and is thus sort of like those creatures placed in other people's lives.  Is that too much explaining the joke?

So, I walked in a little nervously and saw it was a bit busy, what with it being happy hour and all.  But then, it's just a bar, so I walked up to the counter and asked the bartender if she knew anything about "First Thursday Changelings' Club".

She was actually Irish, and said I'd be wantin' t' go t' the far booth, pointing me at one in a back corner, near a foosball table but no windows.  One person was already sitting there - a woman of about 40 or so, who leapt up when she saw me.  "Hi, I'm Ashlyn!  Welcome to my bar.  You must be...  Za-rye-uh?"

"Za-ree-ya.  Call me 'Zee'.  You look great!"  I looked her up and down a little, not sure what I'd expected, other than it wasn't quite this.  As someone who had a number of older female friends as Magda, I've known a few who having not just been very attractive in their youth, but who traded off that, are either blithely unaware of how time has worked on them or who have been maniacal in maintaining it to the extent that they can and won't let you miss it.  Ashlyn, it seemed, was in the second category, wearing a green dress with a plunging neckline that showed she still had an impressive rack, although it was maybe a little tighter than intended in some other spots.  Her hair is bright red, and she's got strong-looking arms and legs as well as a face that ha a few more lines but great cheekbones.

"Thank you.  40 can hit hard and I'm not going down without a fight!"  We laughed, and then we started talking.  She asked if I was a Celtics fan yet, and I told her that I'd manage to cling to the Bulls despite not having been in Chicago for a while, and she expressed her sympathy but also her respect, because she'd given in little by little over the years, especially once she opened the bar.

We talked a lot of sports, and, god, I missed that; the ex's friends weren't really sports people, none of my female friends have been, and even the best of guy friends tend to get weird when a lady likes sports.  I mean, I did the same thing back in the day, because it's like a signal that you're extra-compatible or something at best and a threat to the ego at worst.

We'd gone on about basketball for a while when a blonde lady about Ashlyn's age came in and he beckoned her over.  "Zee, Penny; Penny, Zee.  We shook hands like it was some secret 'we're actually guys and don't hug' signal, although Ashlyn was a hugger where this old friend was concerned.  "So, how's the new job?"

Penny grunted.  "It's a lot.  I mean, it used to be enough to be married to a lawyer while writing a couple books a year, but Ray's practice is just getting off the ground and Millie is just good enough to need expensive coaches, so now I'm dealing with a classroom full of twenty Millies twice a day, and this is just part time!"  She turned and gave me a wry grin.  "Don't get me wrong, being a mother and a teacher is very rewarding, but sometimes I wish I could have passed my daughter bookish Arthur Milligan DNA as opposed to how athletic and competitive the original Penelope Lincoln was!"

That kind of bowled me over.  "Geez, I hadn't thought of that."

"It's weird!  It's not like I ever look at Millie and feel like she's not my kid or love her any less, but if every parent looks at their kids and wonders where that comes from, at least they have some idea!  I keep getting blindsided by the parts of her that aren't clearly Ray."

I nodded, and then she pointed at the guy who was walking from the bar.  "Now, Ande - Ande isn't going to have to worry about that, since he'll be using his twin's DNA!"

Ande started to back off but Ashlyn grabbed his arm.  "Don't mind her, she doesn't mean you're going to be having kids any time soon.  Now, c'mon, how do you know Penny?"

"I don't know her, I just, uh, sort of asked for something weird at a book signing."

"Not that weird - I get one or two Inn folks who want that to be part of their autographs a year.  Usually on the Pygmalion books, even though I haven't done one of those in five years, although some of the Wandering Inn ones attract the same audience.  Not that Ashlyn pays attention to anything but the mysteries."

A few other folks showed up who don't contribute to the blog and said to respect their privacy.  We stayed well past happy hour, and by the time things were about to break up at around ten, one gave a big, exaggerated, maybe somewhat tipsy sigh.  "Well, Zee, it looks like you got lucky and Lenny's not going to show up."

Penny turned to Ashlyn.  "Wait, you invited Lenny?"

"What?  I couldn't not invite him!"

Penny harrumphed.  "Agree to disagree."

I noticed a bunch of folks were kind of trying not to look at me.  "Who's Lenny?"

The lady who brought him up took me by the hand.  "Lenny spent, like, eight weeks as a woman five years or so ago, and ever since, he's hit on everyone who returned from the Inn a moderately attractive woman, saying that we should stick together so that we can share everything about our lives."

A few other folks jumped in.  "Which isn't entirely wrong."  "But he's such a weirdo about it!"  "I don't know how he even finds out."  "Learned what a girl likes, though."  "And that dick--"

The first woman slapped the table.  "Hey, stop making him sound good!  Fucker cheated on me with that stewardess for two months!"  She pointed at me.  "I'm just saying, you are totally his type - he really likes girls who used to be guys, and black girls besides.  He acts like he really knows what you go through, and talks a good game, but he's a fucking dog."

I was a bit taken aback.  "Well, I'm not looking to get back into another relationship right now."

Penny punched my shoulder.  "You say that now, but c'mon, you're a romantic like me, and guys like Lenny have a real appeal to gals like us.  I mean, if I hadn't already been married when he set his sights on me..."  She shook her head to clear it.  "Welp, that's enough sharing for tonight!  Anyone heading to Camberville and want to split a cab?"

A couple folks raised their hands, and the party split up after that.  At that relatively late hour, it took me over an hour to get home, and the walk at the end got my blood flowing just enough that I couldn't sleep now it's too late to try.

Good thing it's no-meetings Friday!

-Zee

Marc/Ed: Hail Caesar

One thing I have learned about the life I have found myself in is that I have to b fairly wary of Ed's daughter Pam. I have caught her looking sideways at me a few times since I've been here, but it's not necessarily because she believes her father has been replaced by a stranger. Rather it's clear that she believes she is dealing with the same man she has always known and that he is as frustrating as ever.

This is a woman in her 40's who is clearly in the "now I have to parent my parent" part of her life, checking in relatively consistently by phone. If this old bar phone rings and Pam's number comes up, I had better answer or I won't hear the end of it.

It appears that Ed has been a widower for a number of years with his wife dying -- I won't say young but perhaps sooner than expected, if that makes sense. I think most old guys expect to go first and the sense that I get is that nobody was prepared for old Ed to be on his own.

She seems like a perfectly lovely woman, other than the combative relationship I have found myself in with her. There's actually something kind of comforting about having someone be so concerned about you, even if the tone is a little pushy. The dynamic of a small Mainer family is a little closer to home for me than the sprawling and hyper-involved version I saw when I was one of the "Carey Girls" (although I eventually became accustomed to that... lost stories from my time between blogs.)

As I mentioned, when I returned dramatically late with her son, Pam gave me considerable grief, but somehow it did not seem utterly out of character that Ed would go off on his own like that, which was a silver lining, as Pam's wrath was more confined to irritation that her father acted, if anything, extremely in character.

The next time I heard from her, it was to nudge me about another dangling thread. "So did you go get Caesar yet?"

Caesar?

"Um, the dog?" she sneered at me, in her default tone of exasperation, "Jeezum crowbah dad, he's been at the kennel for over a month, you've got to go get him!"

I was really surprised. Ed's message hadn't mentioned anything about a dog. In fact, it hadn't mentioned much about much. I hunted around to try to figure out how to find this dog, eventually getting the number of the kennel, where they gave me a somewhat surprising answer: the dog had already been picked up by my son Danny.

Ed doesn't have a son Danny -- that would be one of the new identities Ed and Cayden took on. That made a lot of sense, that Ed would go pick up the dog but it somewhat complicated things. I couldn't very well explain to Pam why I didn't have the dog but that it was OK.

I ended up taking a long drive down to Springfield, Mass, to the address that Ed had declined to give me where he and Cayden could be found in their new lives. It was a little apartment building. As I approached, I thought how insane it was that I was imposing on these people, who had not made it easy for me to find them, but I felt like I at least needed to hash this out in person.

After a deep cleansing breath, I knocked on the door. A young man with short cropped and receding hair answered, dressed in shabby pajamas and toting a video game controller. He took one look at me then turned away to call out to someone else in the room.

"Gramps, it's you!"

Cayden stepped aside and a woman stepped into the doorway, a young Indian woman wearing a loose-fitting plaid overshirt and boot-cut jeans. Her sleeves were rolled up and it looked like she had just been doing dishes. From what I could tell she had an ungainly stride that -- if you knew what you were looking at -- gave away that she was a 70-something-year-old man in a young woman's body, along with her flat, unwashed hair and lack of makeup.

He looked at me under a furrowed brow, tilting his head back to look up at me. "What brings you around?"

Before I could answer, a black furred German Shepherd-Border Collie type of dog padded to the door and approached me enthusiastically.

"Well, he does, actually," I said, petting Caesar who seemed very pleased to see his "owner."

Ed -- aka Parveen -- looked at me quizzically. "What do you want with Caesar?"

"Well, he's..." I stammered, "He's not mine, but..." I was at a loss how to explain that, for appearances, it was somewhat expected that I keep the dog.

"Yain't takin' him," he said firmly in a voice that definitely sounded as much like a grandpa as a 20-something-year-old Indian woman's throat could produce. He then pushed the dog back into the apartment -- as it whined for me -- and stepped outside with me, closing the door and standing with his arms folded under his chest. "That's the end of it. You tell Pammy that he's got a good home and he's safe and you'll get another dog if it makes her happy. Now if you don't mind, I'd just as soon you don't come back unless there's an emergency. It's confusin' him and besides, I don't much like being seen this way. Drive safe."

And abruptly, that was it. Puzzled, I went on my way. Rather than face the 3.5-hour drive back, as the trip had seriously worn out my old bones, I stayed the night in a motel (secretly hoping I would stumble into yet another cursed inn and get a fresh set of problems) and drove back in the morning, waking up at 5 AM or so.

I got back and explained to Pam what Ed had told me to say -- I had given Caesar away to a nice young couple. Pam was borderline apoplectic, giving me another round of "Jeezums" and wondering how I could do such a thing.

I came to realize that Caesar is, in an informal sense, a therapy dog, who Pam got for her dad to help him after his wife died. I think Pam thinks that he never warmed to the dog and resented having it, stubbornly wanting to go through his grief alone, but I can tell from his insistence on keeping it that that is not the case. For whatever reason Ed seems to have never let on exactly how important the dog is. Knowing that, I actually have no business keeping him but of course from Pam's perspective me losing him or giving him away is both unthinkable and very characteristically selfish. It put us in a really weird situation but at the same time, Ed seems to have been a really weird guy prone to making these command decisions that don't quite make sense to others, so I think it the long run a very irritated Pam has let me off the hook as just another quirk of her father's.

Being an Inn person isn't always as simple as rolling out of bed and into a blank slate you get to define how you want. No matter who you become, you really do get stuck in these entanglements that you have no control over.

Aidan/Emilia: "Son, I'm proud of you"

An few hours ago, Kutter got a call at the same moment that I got a text, and while I was sighing at yet another interview that came to nothing, Kutter's face was lighting up.  "Really?  That's amazing!  I can't wait to start!"

Obviously, it didn't take long to figure out what was going on - the place that interviewed both "Katey" and "Emilia" last week had decided to go with someone who hadn't graduated high school over someone who actually had some relevant experience.  Not that they could really know this, of course - the real Katey and Emilia had both graduated with BAs in Literature (English for Emilia, American for Katey) and similar GPAs, so everything outside the interview probably would have been roughly even.  Which means Kutter made the better impression.

As soon as he hung up the phone, he said he'd gotten the office assistant job at the publisher, then started texting Rusty before the fact that this was the one where we'd interviewed back-to-back clicked.  "Wait a minute - how did I--?"

I hopefully wiped any look of disappointment or confusion off my face quickly, and put a hand on his shoulder.  "You must have given them what they were looking for.  More than I did."

He shrugged.  "Don't know what that could be."  Before he could elaborate, his phone rang and I could hear Rusy shouting "Woot-woot, good job Katey!" from my end.  Kutter smiled and half turned away.  "Thanks, 'Monica'!  It's crazy!"  You can definitely hear the quotes when Kutter uses our female names.

I smiled and walked into Emilia's room, then flopped backwards onto the bed, giving a rueful chuckle as I felt my breasts bounce a little.  I don't know why that struck me funny in the moment - maybe I mentally expected to just splat, or something, but my body felt weirdly resilient, or I was thinking that this was what I felt was holding me back, when the boys had to deal with more and were seemingly managing.

It was mid-afternoon and I'm not sure how long I lay there looking at the ceiling, but eventually Kutter poked his head on through the door I hadn't closed.  "Hey, I'm going to meet Rusty to shop for some work clothes.  Do you...?"

As much as I've been noticing that the boys often tend to operate as a pair even though we're all in the same situation, I didn't feel up to it.  "Nah, I don't see how I'd be of much help.  You guys seem to know what you're doing."

"Okay."  He stepped away from the door then stepped back in.  "You're sure you're not mad at me?"

I sat back up.  "Son, I'm not mad at you.  I'm proud of you both.  You've made the best of a tough situation, maybe better than I have.  You two go have fun while I regroup."

He gave a wry smile.  "Yeah, shopping for skirts and blouses is 'fun'."

I shrugged.  "Hey, women seem to like it.  Maybe we've been missing out!"  We both laughed at that.  "Go on, I won't just sit here and mope.  Just text and tell me whether you're going to be home for dinner or not."

He nodded, and then stepped in to give me a hug, which is awkward given how our bodies are shaped now, but okay.  "We couldn't do this without you and I'm really glad you trust us."  Then he blushed, said bye, and walked out.

Did I stay home and mope?  A little.  But I really am proud of them.

-Aidan/Emilia