I've been trying to find a way to enjoy my time in Maine... the mild weather, the sea salt in the air, the scenery. But it's hard to really appreciate it with the cloud of dread hanging over me. The mystery of who I'll become in a few days. The fates of all the people I've seen here so far. Whether I'll be able to separate myself from Kitty.
It's been a very quiet week. We've almost had the whole place to ourselves. Which is kind of nice, I suppose - a quiet getaway before the storm erupts and we have to not only figure out our new lives but shepherd any newbies into this "lifestyle..."
Kitty has basically done nothing but lie around and complain. Complain about the weather, about not feeling well, about how long this is taking. About how I'm not good company... finally today, I encouraged her to get out, enjoy the sunshine, do some shopping... do anything. Once this curse hits there's probably not gonna be time and energy for recreation.
For a while, the only familiar person to show up was Rosie, who arrived the day after we did. I hadn't seen her since the fall when Meghan and I went down to NYC for an overnight trip. As Ahmir she and I are about eye-to-eye, but she looks to have about a hundred or more pounds on me. But he has a way of carrying himself like he wants to be smaller - which, remembering how Rosie originally looked, may be a habit she carried over. She's also rocking a shaved head look, telling me it was to give the real-Ahmir a fresh start, and because afros draw too much unwanted attention.
Bless her heart, the past year seems to have really triggered her anxiety.
The first thing she did when she got here was open all the bags in her room. At first she flipped out, because none of the clothes looked familiar, but there was a wallet with "her" I.D. and a letter signed by the interim Rosie.
I hesitated to examine the luggage left for me and Kitty at first. The Inn isn't an exact science, it seems, and what you seem to have laid out in front of you might not be the true end result. So I didn't want to open the nondescript black suitcase and find a bunch of clothes for a 25-year-old man and get my hopes up only to get girlified again. But at Kitty's behest, after the weekend, we took a look.
I was not pleased with the first thing I saw: bras and panties. They appeared to be freshly laundered, no travel-aroma attached to them. Some very flowery looking dresses. My heart sank. Please, let there be more to this. Give me even a sliver of hope.
We opened the next bag: men's wear. Dockers, jeans, cargo shorts, t-shirts. Not that far off from my size, although the waist could be smaller. Ok. So assuming this curse spreads things out in the same way from one time to the next, Kitty and I will be becoming a couple. A grown, married couple.
Which doesn't necessarily mean we'll be staying a couple as far as I'm concerned.
Which one of us gets to be which one... I mean, obviously I have a preference. But I can weather the storm if it ends up the other way. It looks like annual trips to the Inn is my life now, especially if, God above forbid, I have to spend another year on the female side of the fence. I just can't see myself settling down as that. But to be happy for a year? I don't need much. Just give me my own house, my own income, the room to make my own choices in life and I'll be fine I guess.
People have been trickling in since the weekend. Again, this seems like a strange way to do things, and I've been wondering if some were repeat-visitors with business to clear up, but no, I don't think so. Just random folks who couldn't make it up for the first weekend of the month.
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