The clock just flipped over to twelve, making it officially April 11th. I head back to the Trading Post in thirty days, on May 11th. I think I can last that long.
Some of it's going to be uncomfortable, though. The first time Stewart and I were at the theater together, everyone could tell something was off. Neither of us said anything, but by the end of the shift, I could tell that the staff was whispering. Uncomfortable.
The next day, it got worse. I was closing Sunday night, so at around quarter past ten I was up in the lobby, cashing the box office and concession stand out when Ted, one of the college kids, asks if I need anything else, uh-huh, uh-huh. I gave him a disgusted look, and he said that he'd heard that was how you get the better shifts. I said if he wasn't careful, it's how he'd get fired.
I suppose there's not much I could do to enforce it, but apparently the look on my face was serious enough, because he dropped it and walked away. Still, I felt uncomfortable - what was I going to do if he pushed it?
I thought about it as I walked home. Ray was asleep in front of the television (the Red Sox were the ESPN Sunday night game), so I tiptoed into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face and changed into an oversized t-shirt. I wanted to get right to sleep, so I moved over to the television and switched it off. Ray fidgeted a little at that, but didn't follow me into bed for a few minutes. He must have been able to read my body language, because when he got into bed, he kissed me on the cheek and asked what was wrong. I told him that even if I was just reaping what I'd sowed, it still felt pretty lousy to have some 19-year-old boy call you a slut.
He gave me a squeeze and told me I didn't deserve that. That's nice, I say, but it's been a long time coming, and I'll just have to deal with it, adding "for another month" to myself. He said I should quit that job, and I kind of laughed, saying it hardly seemed appropriate for me to live off his income considering where "we" were. Well, he said, you should think about it.
I have to admit, I have been thinking about it, but I won't actually do it. Not my place, although I'm certain it'll be going into the letter I give to Liz. It's a bad work situation to be in, and I know I wouldn't want any part of it.
A month, eh? What happens after that, will Ashlyn be gaining sole custody of the blog?
By the way, just thought I'd ask how many of the other, erm, 'cursed' you've wrangled up for this trip? Seems like there are a lot of people out there who'd love to get their bodies/lives back.
I just want to know about the others in that last batch of transformees... if there's some healthy, young woman who doesn't want to go back to her own life - I might give it a shot... especially if there's a way back.
Hell... I might even be tempted to give Marie's life a shot... temporarily, of course.
Hmm.. Again, you seem fairly conflicted about your feelings.
A few things interest me about your predicament. Firstly how is Liz treating your body? Secondly how do you know that she wants to swap back? Thirdly,what evidence do you have that this is possible?
First, Liz doesn't have my body; Jeremy Boyd out in SF does.
Second, Liz has said so in no uncertain terms.
Third, it seems fairly logical - there's a definite pattern to how the Inn works, so it's mostly a matter of being in the proper place at the proper time.
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