Aidan/Emilia: Happy Birthday... Katey?

A thing I didn't really bring up during the Taxes post is that, while filling out forms, we were reminded that we'd missed Monica's birthday in early March and that Katey's is the 28st of April.  I asked Rusty if she wanted to do something for it, but she said no; she'd just celebrated her real birthday, after all, although she did have some fun with how she's older than Kutter right now.  

Indeed, we'd all more or less figured it was no big deal, just making a couple of jokes in the morning, until we got to trivia that night.  Trivia's been a bit odd since Rusty was laid off from her old job; she still counts Razzie and Chandra as friends, but that they stayed while she was pushed out stings.  It's not making it better that things are actually looking much worse, and the company may just collapse entirely, although maybe it will be different when things do entirely fall apart.  The point is that we were all focused on the weirdness on Rusty's side of the table that we were completely blindsided when Lettie brought a lot of other folks from the office to sing "Happy Birthday", present her with gift cards, and then bring out a birthday cake at the midway point.

I don't think I've seen the particular expression on Kutter's face before, either as Katey or her real self - blushing red; eyes shut, covered, and pointed down; whole body quivering in a way that could be laughing or crying; but beaming wide.  The hair kind of shielding the sides of her face adds something to it that maybe it wouldn't have as a guy, perhaps.  She seemed deeply embarrassed that people would be giving her that sort of attention but appreciating it.  It made me feel pretty good because while Kutter's never exactly been what people call an introvert, he was never really one to find himself at the center of a circle in school or at camp or anything.  He's always been dependable and funny and able to poke back at me and Rusty, but sometimes I kind of think that people, maybe including me, took him being organized and conscientious for granted.

The affection from her colleagues seems pretty real, too - I already knew Lettie, but had only heard about Max, Jen, and "Ms. Grayson" second-hand - and, meeting her, I kind of get why Kutter can't quite bring herself to use her given name, even though I know I'm older and more experienced than her; she's friendly but always seems a step ahead of you - and it was kind of fun to have a cheering section.  Admittedly, I'm none too fond of Ms. Grayson's boss, who was paying entirely too much attention to my and Chandra's chests.  Though, I must admit, I often figure better me than the kids when we're out together.

After trivia, I wasn't surprised when her office-mates wanted to take "Katey" out for a few more drinks, and I kept myself from saying something like "be safe!" as she walked off, because that's a Dad thing to say rather than a roommate thing.  I still waited up for her after Rusty hit the sack, though I've got the excuse of how neither the bookstore nor the bar every wants me in as early as the kids' jobs do.

She came in at 1am or so and plopped down next to me on the couch, kicking off her heels.  "Oh my god why is tequila?"

I laughed before asking if she was going to be okay for work the next day.

"If I'm not, the folks at work have nobody to blame but themselves.  But I'll be fine.  It is my job to make the coffee and to order the coffee and there is going to be so much coffee."

I chuckled.  "Eh, they'll cut you some slack; they really seem to like you."

"Nah, they like Katey.  They like the girl I'm pretending to be.  But they'll have another one in a month and a half and won't know the difference, right?

"Hey, near as I can tell, Katey is about ninety percent Kutter, which isn't ideal, but pretty good.  Folks will definitely notice the difference."

"Well, maybe I should make it easy for them, tell them I have to move back home.  Wouldn't be a lie!"  She got up from the couch and then stood very still for a moment.  "Then again, they might throw me another party."

I laughed and waited for her to be done with the bathroom and flopped down into bed before doing the same myself.  So far as I can tell, they both managed to get to work OK this morning.

-Aidan/Emilia

Marc/Ed: Flirting with Danger

With Christine seemingly out of my life -- for the best but it doesn't feel that way -- I have a bit more free time. Too much, I would say. I've become the cliche of an old man puttering around the house all day waiting for his family to call.

Which Pam did, this past weekend, with an odd request: "I picked up a shift Saturday afternoon, would you take Cayden on his date?"

"On his what?"

Seems "Cayden" rehabilitated his reputation at school to the point where he was able to start "going out" with a little girl named Magnolia, which I heard a bit about going as far back as Thanksgiving.

"Don't sound so shocked, dad, they're just kids and they want to go see the stupid Minecraft movie. They're too young to know what dating really entails."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that... what with the TV and the YouTube." I swear, sometimes I sound exactly like the old man I am.

Part of me wanted no part of it, but I felt like it would be irresponsible of me to wash my hands of it completely, as the only person who is aware of the boy's true nature. When we had a moment alone before setting out I asked, "Okay, what the hell is going on here?"

"Ugh," he grunted, seemingly irritated by my questioning. "What do you think? Two children are going to see a children's movie."

"John, seriously," I sighed.

"What do you want from me, Marc?" there was palpable, very adult irritation in his voice. "I've felt alienated and drained since I got here. It's not good to feel like such an outsider all the time. I made a decision a long time ago that I was going to see these children as my contemporaries as much as possible. Learn about them, relate to them... is it really any different from your dalliance with that Christine woman?"

"Yes it is," I guffawed, "For a variety of reasons I shouldn't have to tell you."

"You're right, it is," he said, folding his arms across his chest and holding his nose in the air, "I, for one, am actually capable of keeping things innocent."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was more amused than offended.

"It means that you had no business even broaching a sexual relationship with that woman if you had no intention of following through with it. You led her on in a way you couldn't possibly make good on. I'm just a friend to this Magnolia girl. She's sharper than others, she has a good vocabulary, she's interested in things I have to say."

"Oh yeah? What's her take on tariffs?"

"Don't be like that," he sneered. "I only mean that being around her is slightly less mind-numbing than others. Anyway. This is strictly platonic. We're eleven for crying out loud. She asked me if I wanted to see this stupid movie, and I haven't been to the cinema in ages."

"So this is just your way of keeping busy."

"Exactly. Harmless socializing."

"Okay, I'm satisfied," I told him.

We arrived at Magnolia's, who's parents were all "Isn't this so cute" and I had to pretend I felt so too. It was interesting seeing John in "Cayden" mode, although he doesn't make a very convincing kid, still tossing ten-dollar words around and saying words like "cool" in a distinctly stilted way. Magnolia was clearly very happy to be out with him though, which was sweet and a little sad. When they were together, she did most of the talking, which I took as a tactical decision from John.

There was a few funny moments -- one when he begrudgingly went to sit in the back seat with her (bless the innocent child, she didn't try to hold his hand or anything) -- and one when Fleetwood Mac came on the radio. "Oh, I love this song," he said, "I remember when I saw them at--" and then stopped, trying to figure out how to finish that thought.

"You mean when I showed you them on YouTube?" I interjected.

"Yeah, that's right Grampa."

The girl politely bobbed her head through the song.

A hundred or so dollars on tickets and treats -- and one harmless if nonsensical (to me) flick later, the kids still had some energy to burn off so I gave them some more money for the arcade. "Cayden" actually appeared to be having fun at points, especially when they played something more generationally-open like air hockey.

When I got home, exhausted just from watching such youthful energy, I realized my phone was still off from when I went into the theater, which isn't a problem usually as besides Pam there isn't really anyone who wants to talk to me.

Except of course there was... a new message from Christine, which I was both glad and sad to get. 

"Hate to ask, but I need help. Let's talk?"

We have an outing set up for her to explain what exactly is going on.

-Marc

Aidan/Emilia: Life & Taxes

Has anybody else ever blogged about how the Inn tends to change people in the middle of summer, disrupting their lives enough to trigger a job change or even a move, meaning that there's a lot you don't necessarily know about half the previous year when it comes time to file "your" taxes?  Probably not, because it's neither traumatic nor sexy, but it is a real pain in the neck. 

I must admit, I was kind of slow on the uptake, because it didn't really occur to me that the kids were not going to be my dependents until I started filling out forms.  Then it just sort of gets bigger and bigger.  I had never given much thought to the insurance card in my wallet, since I inherited a pretty darn healthy shape and have not had to go to the doctor, but it turns out that Emilia was on her father's insurance, so I have to get in touch with him to make sure I get sent the proper paperwork.  I had to dig through her computer to find out about the work study job she had during her senior year and get in contact with the University to get the pepper forms forwarded on. 

(Did these girls ever fill out change of address forms after graduating?  Now that I think about it, I don't remember ever seeing anything forwarded to this apartment, but figured maybe that was just kids their age doing everything online and not having mail to forward.) 

Rusty's situation was about the same as mine - part-time job we had to dig up, health insurance through Monica's parents, basically the same sort of deductions for rent.  She absolutely could not believe that all of this information got sent to the government, then back to us, and then that we had to check their math and send it back or else they'd just keep the extra money that had been deducted or gave penalties.  This is, to be fair, the correct reaction.

Katey's situation was a bit trickier - she was on her parents' health care but Kutter had picked up the company's when she started her job, and Katey, having apparently been dead-set against asking her parents for help, had worked a lot more during college, including for a place that had gone out of business, and either despite that or because it was a lot to keep track of, some of her records were sketchy (if there's any one thing that makes us remember that we are still ourselves deep down, it's that Katey was not nearly as detail-oriented as Kutter).  Tracking some things down took effort, and after the way Kutter's Christmas visit went, Katey's parents were less eager to help than Emilia's and Monica's. 

There was also the matter of what to do with the money that had been anonymously deposited in or bank accounts for the first few months, which amounted to just enough for each of us that it had to be included.  All told, we each wound up receiving refunds, although not really enough for any of us to splurge on anything.  Or, more likely, the next group, since the odds that these would be processed and deposited before we returned to the Inn was slim even before the cuts at the IRS.

Rusty did some math and figured the time spent on it was not exactly a great hourly wage, and asked what would happen if we hadn't bothered and just let the federal and state governments keep the excess.  Probably nothing, I said, but there might have been trouble if the deductions had been a hundred dollars off on the other direction, and it wouldn't be fair to let the next people living these lives catch that. 

This process all got started because the woman living my life sent me a message asking if I had anything other than my main W-2 to worry about.  She works in finance in her real life, and was at a big New York firm one upon a time, so my family's taxes was basically nothing difficult for her.  But, on the flip side, I do appreciate her making sure it would be nothing difficult for me. 

- Aidan/Emilia

Dave/Chris: Being cheated on

Well maybe I wasn't exactly cheated on, because Shane told me beforehand, and I even said it was OK, but it wasn't and it hurt...

Shane went with a few of Sylvia's girlfriends on a night out last week. He seems to like dressing up, going out and being one of the girls, and the novelty of being an attractive woman, getting the attention of men has apparently not worn off yet. I've seen it myself, but it's never really bothered me before, because our "relationship" is time limited, and in any case, I never thought that he would take things further.

From what he told me, he met a couple at the bar that they were all at, and started talking to them. At some point, the rest of the girls moved on, or went home, but he stayed and talked to them. The drinks were flowing and a proposition of a threesome was made - I don't know by whom, but it doesn't really matter. 

The next day, he brought it up with me. He said that in the beginning, it seemed to be a joke, and everyone was treating it as such, but the longer they talked, the more serious the invitation was, and by the end, they'd given him their number and tentatively made plans for it this weekend.  He initially thought that he would never call them, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to try it. He said "I know that I'm bisexual right now, and I've been wondering what sex would be like with a real penis. This might be my last chance" That stung, because I'm pretty sensitive about missing my manhood, and still very self conscious about it. He could see my discomfort and put his arm around me. "Look, I didn't mean it like that, but it's something I've wanted to try. If you're not OK with it, then tell me." I wasn't happy about it, but I couldn't say no, because we're not really in a relationship, or at least it doesn't have a future, and I wanted to be supportive and not sound unreasonable.

So on Saturday night he went. I intended to stay home, but couldn't. I needed to do something, so I went out to a bar, and for reasons I can't explain right now, I decided to go to a rough dive bar. I just wanted to go somewhere, where I could sit on my own and get drunk. I've mentioned before that I pass pretty well, but occasionally, I still get identified as trans. Unfortunately, this was one of the times that it happened.

I was downing my 4th or 5th whisky, and noticed a big guy looking at me, then he went and spoke to his friends, and pointed my way. I tried to ignore him, but he was suddenly standing next to me. "This isn't a gay bar", he said threateningly. San Francisco is a pretty tolerant place, but that doesn't mean that everyone is cool with gay or trans people, and unfortunately, the current administration has emboldened these people. I tried to ignore him and turned away. "I'm talking to you....", he said, as he knocked the drink out of my hand, the glass shattering on floor. I looked at the bartender, who just turned and looked away. He came up close to my ear and I could smell the tobacco and beer on his breath. "You have exactly 20 seconds to get the fuck out of here, or I'll kill you", he whispered in my ear. I wasn't exactly in a position to argue, so I got up and left, hearing obscenities and threats about never coming back here again as I walked out the door. I ordered an Uber as I walked a couple of blocks away, shaking the entire time. I was terrified that they'd come after me. Luckily they didn't, but I'd never been so scared in my life.  I got home, still shaking and it took me a good while and a few drinks to calm down. Eventually I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up early to work in the cafe, and Shane still wasn't home, so I texted to make sure he was OK. He replied a little later and told me they were going to have breakfast and he'd be home after that. I didn't see him until later in the day, and I didn't ask him how it was, because I didn't want to know, and he didn't offer to tell me anything either. He did seem to be in a particularly good mood, though, so I imagine that he enjoyed it. I didn't tell him about what happened to me.

I just want to go back to the inn, go home, and leave all this behind...

Marc/Ed: Didn't even have a chance

Christine and I have had semi-regular dinners and coffees since shortly after we met, so I'm not sure why it felt so hard to make plans with her in the wake of our recent dalliance.

Okay, I do know. For the first time in a very long time, I like someone. I like her, but I can't be with her. We are within two months of returning to the Inn, at which point the role of Ed will go back to its originator and I think he would prefer to live out his days alone, looking after Pam and Cayden and Caesar the dog. 

Which is fine. It's great, actually. I do not want him to take up my relationship (such as it is) with Christine. I do not want Christine to try to have a connection with him, thinking he's still me inside. It's an impossible situation that is going to require breaking some eggs to get out of.

So I put off reaching out to her out of self-consciousness about that fact... wanting to see her but not wanting to face the truth, and not knowing how to break it off gently or what I was even going to do or say. And in all this time she didn't really contact me either, there was a frostiness between us and it seemed like we had crossed a line we didn't mean to cross when she spent the night at my place (half naked in my bed.)

You may not think it but that's a memory I will cherish for a very long time...

After a few furtive, fumbling attempts at communicating in the last few weeks, we finally did manage to sit down, and what she said was surprising to me.

"We made a mistake, that wasn't right, this can't happen."

I was taken aback. I was supposed to be the one saying these things, but I felt no relief hearing them out of her mouth. I was confused and a little hurt, even though it was "easier" for me to get it this way.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and admitted, "I'm sort of on the same page... but I'm curious what makes you think that?"

She sucked in her teeth, like she wasn't sure how to put it. Deep breath, hold, looking around the room, finally she said some generic stuff about "When it happened, it felt great, but afterward something just felt off, and everything that was right about it kind of was tainted, and... well, then there's Pam..."

Pam, huh.

"She's been calling me, asking, more demanding to know what's going on between us, am I after your money, or... or what, and I... I just don't have the stomach for it, Ed."

I was dismayed. This was not the sort of thing that was supposed to come between us. This, to me, was the kind of thing that if you liked someone, you figured it out. And if I were in any position to do so, I probably would have dismissed it and said "Hey, you let me worry about Pam, I want us to explore this" because that's what I wanted. 

"You're a fun guy to be around, Ed. More fun than I would expect for a man your age, no offense. There's life left in you, and I hope that you enjoy your time and maybe find someone else who doesn't get off on the wrong foot with your daughter."

I placed a hand on top of my thinning scalp to absorb all of this, and run it through the filter of what do I think and then what should Ed think.

"I wish we could run away together," I said, perhaps with half a smirk, thinking of the Inn. "Someplace we didn't have to worry about Pam and all that. But that's not in the cards."

"No sir," she said.

We hugged and parted ways and I was left alone, a throbbing ache in my chest. When things ended with Laura it felt different... it was a slow disintegration that I didn't even notice happening so that when we were torn apart by the forces of the Inn we were both ready for it to happen. This was heartbreak. But it was necessary.

I wondered, as someone who is seemingly doomed to a life of wandering through the Inn, if I would ever be in a place to find love again. I literally do not know who I'll be in a year, but who does?

I went home and I thought about it all and I wondered exactly what Pam knew, or thought she knew, about me and Christine, and how. The answer seemed clear. I reached out to John, to ask what exactly he had told his "mom."

"Everything I could reasonably know," he said -- casually, like it was no big deal, "That you gave her money, that I thought I heard she'd slept over... of course I have to pretend like I'm a kid who doesn't know what that means."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, trying to mask my hurt.

"Because I couldn't let you get attached, Marc. I was looking out for you, the same way you looked out for me. You seemed to have some trouble detaching yourself from her. We have to move on, now don't we? I go back to where I came from, you move on to whatever it is you think you have ahead of you... better luck next time. Tell me if I'm wrong, if you honestly can."

I couldn't. It didn't feel good, but it wasn't wrong. The same way he eventually admitted it wasn't totally wrong for me to bring him to the Inn in the first place.

Hard truths. Sometimes it just doesn't work. 

Ande: Shipping Down to Boston?

Is seeing Dropkick Murphys at Fenway Park (well, the connected music hall) on St. Patrick's Day weekend the most stereotypical college male thing imaginable?  Maybe.  But my roommate Griff bought four tickets last fall, but that turned out to be super-optimistic:  We actually lost a roommate over winter break - not lost like "dead", but like "his grades were terrible and he figured maybe he'd be happier as an electrician than an electrical engineer" - who was going to use his second pair, and asked me if I'd be interested.  I wasn't, at first, but Hildy thought it would be a lot of fun.  So we said we'd take them a couple weeks ago, and he put the other one up (purchased for the girl who got back with her high school boyfriend over Christmas) on SutbHub or something, and I didn't think a lot of it.

Then, at around noon on Saturday, I get a text from Mack, saying she's at Alewife, and was I up to anything?  Hildy was doing something with lab partners, and while I had figured on studying all afternoon myself, I was already looking for excuses not to, since it was kind of a surprisingly nice day, so I said why not; we'll meet up at the Common.

I was scrolling on my phone when I heard her call out and looked up and did a little blink.  It's been almost a year and a half since I've seen her in person, and she sure hit me different now that she's seventeen and I've kind of accepted that I'm probably going to live out my life as a man who likes women.  She was wearing blue jeans that had rips up and down the legs from how tight they were, high-top sneakers, a white crop-top and a full-zip hoodie tied around her waist.  Maybe a bit too much makeup, but her short haircut was cute.  "That's not a college-visiting outfit."

She laughed.  "Yeah, like I'm getting into some fancy Boston college!  Nah, just down for a concert tonight."  She grinned for a second like she wanted me to ask what before blurting it out.  "Don't laugh, but I'm seeing the Dropkick Murphys."

I folded my arms, kind of suspicious.  "Really."

"I know, it is so white it has bagpipes, but look at me.  I am in fact just that white, as far as anybody can tell, and not only did a guy in my class put them on a playlist for me, but I should probably make some effort to get in touch with the Irish hooligan roots everyone will assume I have when I go off to Springfield on my own."  She shrugged.  "Besides, Jonah is getting married to a great guy i would have met if I'd been staying with Momma during quarantine, and every once in a while the invitation on the fridge makes me want to scream.  It's good screaming-at-injustice music."

"And you didn't know I was going to the same concert?"

She started to open her mouth to reply, but held it like that for a while.  "I think you might actually have put it on my radar by putting it in the group text, but aren't they playing all weekend?  Anyway, we're probably on opposite sides of the building."  Without it needing to be said, we pulled our phones out and brought out the ticket apps.  She started laughing even harder when she saw we were two seats apart.  "Oh my god, what are the motherfucking odds?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend's going to find this hilarious."

She gave me a look that seemed to be trying to imply she was wiser than her years.  "C'mon, Ande.  I may have been that kind of bitch before, but I haven't been in a long time.  And you're still a kid to me."

"Is that what you thought when you offered to, you know..."

Her eyes went as big as they could, and then she shook her head.  "Damn, I did offer that, didn't I?  I mean, mostly it was about making sure you didn't miss out, but, let's be honest, the teenage part of me did have a crush on you.  You are good-looking and it would be nice to be with someone who knows, but, honestly, I've had three high school boyfriends and it's great fun until they do something that makes me go 'that's so cute', and you're kind of doing that right now."  She folded her arms and smirked.

I raised my hands in surrender, we declared a truce, and then went to find ice cream before hitting Newbury Comics and other places around Quincy Market for the afternoon.

I guess I'm not supposed to find shopping that much fun as a guy, and I know that when I'm getting stuff for myself, I'm kind of happy to just see what's got a good price at Marshall's (when I'm not at home), but i don't know if that's all I need as a straight guy or if I know how much fun I could be having and don't want it to bring me down.  I haven't really had a chance to be "dragged along" with Lindy yet, but I had a good time with Mack, and I don't think that because she was giving me some sort of treat.

Somewhere around or four I texted Lindy that I'd run into a friend who was also going to the concert, so maybe we could grab dinner.  Mack suggested a Mongolian barbecue place after seeing that all of her other go-to places from when she lived in the area were gone.  She was starting to say something about that when Lindy arrived and gave us the look I'd been dreading.  "I didn't realize 'Mack' was a high-school girl."

"Oh, yeah, my family wound up vacationing in her hometown for a couple summers in a row and we wound up hanging out."  It didn't sound weird to me, and Lindy shrugged it off.  Eventually, Griff showed up, we ate, and wound up at the show

Which was a lot of fun!  I'm not sure I would have been into the band as Andi, but Mack's right in that it's the sort of punk you can yell with but still be having fun because, like, the first song of the concert was some sort of Revolutionary War-era thing about making out in the servants' quarters or something like that and they've also done deep-cut baseball songs, although Griff said they didn't do either of the big ones that night (unless you count "Shipping Up to Boston", which, I guess became a pitcher's entrance music because it's about dismemberment).

Griff and Mack hit it off, at least, although I didn't realize how well until I realized Mack was still heading to our apartment while I turned off to head to Hildy's because her roommates were still on spring break.  She had an early morning call with some overseas classmates, so I went back to my place in the morning, where I found Mack making coffee in her crop-top and panties.

"Fun night?"

She smiled.  "Let me tell you, 19-year-old boys don't really know what they're doing, but they can do it all night!  Trust me, I know from both sides of this!  Anyway, want a cup?"  I nodded, and she poured two.

"Cary going to be worried?"

"Nah, he knew I'd be staying over somewhere, probably here, although he'll tell anyone who asks that I found a hotel room when the concert didn't finish before midnight."  She smirked.  "Kind of hoped it would be with you, but you really like your girlfriend."

I stopped drinking my coffee but still held the mug in front of my face.  "What?"

She sighed.  "I'm awful.  I told you, I get frustrated about my boyfriends being kids, but I tell myself that the real problem is I hate lying to them - which, let me tell you, is kind of new, because I absolutely was that bitch the first time I was in high school - and I figured, hey, maybe Ande will get me.  But, no, you're really into Hildy, which is sweet, but, annoying."  She took a sip.  "How do you do it?  Like, ever since that first time at the Inn, I've always been with people who knew I wasn't really the person they see, but now I'm looking at college in Springfield, and while I'm kind of psyched to be the first person in my family to go, even if it's the long way around and Momma and Karla will never know..."  She held out her arm.  "I mean, look how pale I am at the end of the winter.  Am I just going to start thinking of myself as a white chick once I've got nobody who remembers me being otherwise?"

"There's worse things to be."

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that and you're my favorite white girl!"

"Whose dick you were after."

"Right!  Where am I gonna be if I don't have people bringing me back down to Earth?"

I laugh.  "I know.  Maybe you could come to First Thursdays, after you graduate?"  I told her about the regular meet-ups at the Changeling.

She seemed about to say something when Griff came out of his room, and we looked at each other a bit disappointed that we were going to have to start talking like normal people, improvising together on the fly when he asked why we'd never hooked up.  Girff asked if we wanted to do brunch, but Mack said she kind of wanted to drive, so she got her pants on, let me walk her to the Hynes station, and gave me a little peck before heading to Park then Alewife then points north.

I've got to admit, it's been hanging with me the past week, especially when I looked at Andie's pictures of herself in a bikini at spring break and thinking how she really doesn't have much reminding her of her old life when Mom and Dad aren't around, and maybe that's better that feeling I'm lying to Hildy.  It doesn't happen very much - although I kind of wonder how she parses me being happy to talk about my family but not really telling any stories from more than a couple years ago - but it does, occasionally, and, heck, sometimes I wonder what Mack thinks of me always calling her "Mack" when I know she's Krystle, and whether I'll wind up somewhere where I'm just this guy and nothing else to anyone else in a couple years, to the point where I might try and do something I know is wrong to not entirely disappear inside being "Andrew".

-Ande/Andy/Andi

Dave/Chris: Living with ourselves

Shane and I have settled into more of a relationship now. We're still having sex, and now when we go out together, it's like we're dating - I guess we probably are actually dating. We both make more of an effort to look good for each other, we hold hands and kiss sometimes, and the dynamic has changed. What strikes me the most is how much of a woman Shane has become. I'm nowhere near as comfortable as he seems to be, and he changed more than I did. I may have a different body and genitalia, but unless you're looking for it, you can't really tell that my body used to be female. On the other hand, Shane's whole position in society has changed. It's particularly noticeable during sex. Shane seems to love being penetrated, and encourages it, whereas for me, it took some time to adjust, and even though it feels good, and it's really sexy, when we're both at either ends of a double ended dildo, there's still a degree of discomfort for me that I haven't seen in him for a long time.

After transforming at the Inn, I was genuinely shocked to find that I had a pussy, but there was something a bit arousing about it too. But when I tried to play with it on the first night in San Francisco, it just seemed wrong, so I didn't get very far, and blogged about it when I finally tried again. Shane told me that he first masturbated a few days after we got to San Francisco, and I think he's been attending his needs regularly since then.

Aside from this, he moves like a woman, acts like a woman and dresses like a woman. I look, act and dress like I don't know what I am. I had to ask him again if he had ever wanted to be a woman before. He assures me that he didn't, but after trying to fit in as a woman, he found that he could do it, and although he felt awkward in the beginning, he's adjusted.

This made me think. Maybe I should see what it would be like to try on women's clothes, just to see how it feels, and whether I could imagine being comfortable wearing them. Even though my body normally looks quite male, there are parts that also look more feminine, like my hips are wider than most men, and my shoulders narower, so it shouldn't be too hard to see a woman if I dressed myself as one. So one day, when Shane was out, I put on one of Sylvia's dresses, and heels (our shoe size is almost the same). I put on a bra and stuffed it with socks. I have a beard and a very short haircut, so it doesn't look right, and I expected that it would probably look OK, except for the beard and hair. However, when I stood in front of the mirror, everything else looked and felt wrong, and only the beard and hair looked right. I lasted maybe 10 minutes, before I had to take it all off again.

I couldn't see that I would ever be comfortable wearing any of that, even if I tried to get used to it. In this blog, it's well known that people gain their bodies sexual preferences. It happened to Shane as well, otherwise, I don't think he'd want to have sex with a man - even one who has a pussy. But thinking about it, it seems that gender identity must also stay with the bodies we inherit. Although it's never been explicitly mentioned, it seems like everyone on this blog has accepted the gender they're in eventually. Shane has the body of a woman whose gender identity is female, so he's had a much easier time adjusting to having female genitalia, than I have, in the body of someone whose gender identity is male.

I'm very curious to see how Shane adjusts to be being male again in a couple of months, but I think that he'll adjust back quickly, because he also adjusted to being female very quickly, and his "default" state should be male. I want to see how long it takes him to lose the female movements and mannerisms that he's picked up.

I also didn't want to talk about politics again, but I don't think I can get around it. Chris has a passport that's good for another 3 years, and it identifies him as male. When he goes to renew it, then from everything that's happened, he'll get one that identifies him as female. I'm less worried about bathrooms and sport. The focus is not on female to male trans people, like myself, but on male to female. Cindy is freaking out though, quite understandably. She was due to fly to europe for a holiday in summer, which she's now cancelled, because she needed to apply for a passport first, and she would have to travel on a male passport. She was worried about the implications of that at international borders. Nobody can really understand what the point of all this is, but I think if I hadn't been transformed, then I wouldn't care about this - I'm embarassed to say, that I might even have supported it. But having lived this life for the more than half a year, I can see that I'm surrounded by folks who just want to live as well as they can, and don't deserve this. I'm lucky, because I'm going back to my old life in less than 2 months, but everyone else is stuck. I'm almost tempted to tell Cindy to come with us, but I saw what happened to Marc and John.

We're also in uncertain times with our costs. We sell a lot of fresh produce, and have already had to add a surcharge to eggs. The cafe is in an affluent area, and a lot of our customers have money, so they can afford the extra charge, but this uncertainty another reason to be glad that this is almost over. This has been an educational experience, but I'll be happy when I can leave this life. Chris and Sylvia will face a lot of uncertainty when they return to their lives....and I can only say that I'm glad that we have a way out.

Marc/Ed: Spring Cleaning

Now that we're almost at the end of this experience, the dynamic of our little makeshift family has started to change for the positive, much to my surprise. After John's little suspension, and the conversation(s) that followed, tensions between he and I thawed and I can tell hi perspective has changed. Not that I want to justify what I did in bringing him to the Inn -- honestly, it's one of my biggest regrets in life -- but he's certainly made peace with it and is willing to engage me as "grandfather" and also as a contemporary. The lines of communication are open, which is going to make the final stretch of this tour that much more bearable.

Pam, too, as long as I don't mention the name Christine. She invited me to Cayden's bowling birthday party this past weekend. I was up for it, and had fun, but I think it was a little awkward for the kids because a lot of them know something weird happened with Cayden recently but they don't know what it was or what it means. Not that I think it particularly bothered John -- surely he doesn't care about the approval of a bunch of  grade-schoolers, it just made the mood of the party a bit less festive.

I was more worried about keeping up with my fellow adults. It turns out my mind and body have different ideas about what I can do -- I bowled like a much younger man, I was laid up the whole next the day with back pain and leg cramps because of it.

Which sucked, of course, because I was planning on doing some work around the house. I'll admit I have not been in the habit of tidying the place. When I was Chantelle, I kept the apartment almost spotless, because I had energy to burn off after long days of work, and I had other reasons to do so, including but not limited to respect for the woman herself. With Ed, I tried to offer him the same respect but I got a bit behind. Neglecting to dust and vacuum eventually became letting the bathroom become dingy and letting grease accumulate on the kitchen countertops, that sort of thing.

Christine was going to help me, so I messaged her not to bother stopping by, we'd find another time, but sure enough she arrived at my door. I again told her to go home, but she insisted. "You'd probably just slow me down, anyway," she laughed.

So she cleaned and I watched from the recliner and we talked. I let her use her best judgment as to "what goes where" in putting junk away, because I have not really figured out a good organizational scheme for Ed's life. She mentioned she had job interviews coming up, but she had to buy some new clothes because she had gone up a few sizes since her last round of interviews. I laughed quietly to myself -- I don't suppose she'd believe me if I said I knew what it was like having to maintain your figure for fashion's sake.

I told her I'd transfer her a bit more, and she said no, really, she can just find some sales, it's just venting. I reminded her my money's not doing anybody any good, and it's not like Pam is missing out on some big windfall if I give a friend a few hundred bucks. (Again, unbeknownst to either woman, this is not Ed's money we're talking about.)

We ordered Chinese food and split a bottle of red wine, and then another one, and we talked long into the night, her about her late husband, me in code about Laura and other things that had gone on in my life. And we eventually decided that it was not a good idea for her to drive home.

And I only have one bed.

And the couch isn't very comfy.

You know, I've got this voice screaming in my head, "Marc, you have screwed things up enough for one lifetime, or more. Find some way out of this." But I either couldn't, or I didn't want to. We got into bed together, and we just fell into each others' arms and started kissing. That's as far as it went, but she asked if it was okay if she slept without any clothes on besides underwear, and I said, whatever she was comfortable with.

It's kind of funny. It isn't like Christine is objectively sexy and irresistible, but it doesn't matter. When you feel something for someone, their exterior is the least of your concern. You find things to like about them because they are them. I found myself enjoying her pudgy rolls, the droop of her bosom, the lines on her face. Excited to be close to her like this. I wished I could tell her all of this. I like her a lot more than I should, and it kind of hurts.

When I woke up with my arms around her warm, soft body, her breast in my hand, I felt bittersweet. It has been a while since I have been in that situation, and a lot longer if you skip over my fling with John, and it made me sad to think I had no idea where this could possibly lead or what the future could hold.

In the morning, we woke up in kind of a daze, half thinking it was a mistake and half thinking it was inevitable and we should give in. Of course, she doesn't know the full truth of it, which isn't fair to her, but how can I tell her that?

She must have been feeling weird too, because it's not like she kissed me again in the morning, she kind of just put her clothes on and left with a polite "see you later."

We haven't spoken much since.

-Marc

Jonah/Krystle: Yes to the Dress

Just when I think I've totally adapted to being a woman and gotten everything else in my life lined up, my mom barges in on me while I'm in a dressing room stripped down to my bra and panties.

I should have been ready for the possibility; choosing a wedding dress with my moms was always going to involve a lot of stripping down and fewer boundaries than usual, but I've spent so much of my time with my parents and parental figures trying to be either a good girl or boyish - or ideally landing somewhere sexless - that is wasn't really prepared for what an outing focused on their daughter looking good for her wedding would be like at all. 

It just happened this past weekend - my mom was ready to come back the weekend after her vacation, but Momma Kamen wasn't, and then there was Mardi Gras, so they all decided to save a little money and come in after.  I'd done a little poking around various shops, sending emails back and forth to them and our wedding planner, and the place we found was relatively affordable and not afraid of what they saw as kind of short notice.  Two months out for a dress doesn't seem that long, but then, I've never tried to make ilor alter one.

I didn't think I was feeling or acting particularly self-conscious in front of them at first, although I soon discovered that getting into a wedding dress isn't exactly a one-person job as I tried the first one on.  I didn't like it much at all; it had seams that seemed designed to rub my nipples the wrong way, though i was glad the others didn't need to hear that before saying we should see some others.  The second kind of had the opposite problem - it draped off me like a parachute - and I was in the dressing room about to put the next one on when Mom came in with my phone.

I actually did the thing where you try to cover your"breasts and groin with your hands.  "What the heck, Mom?"

She held the phone up.  "It's Moira."

Blushing, i took out and turned to the side.  "Hey, honey...  You okay?"  She was, of course; she just wanted to know if she could go sharing with some of her friends, since I'd told her to call of she wasn't going to stay at Josie's house.  I asked to talk to Josie's mother, who assured me it was a safe parking lot and she'd be watching.  I thanked her, told Moira she could but to be careful, and asked if she had her key to get her skates because Gabe was out.  I turned around and saw Mom still there, staring.  "What?  I'm a good mom!"

"I know you are!  It's just...  I don't think I realized you had all this going on under your clothes.  Why have you been trying to hide it under a wedding dress that could pass as a white tent?"

"What do you mean you didn't realize...  Oh, wait, you've only seen me a few times since I was pregnant, right?  Mostly before I really started climbing, and I wasn't exactly wearing a bikini to June's graduation party."  I turned to look in the mirror.  "Yeah, I guess I look pretty all right, if you're into fit girls.  Although, it's not like the original Krystle is the only person who thinks I should have tiny little smooth waist instead of some abs, and skinny legs.  Other folks say my arms make me look mannish."  I chuckled.  "Not the compliment it used to be."

She snorted.  "White folks, right?"  I half-nodded; it's not just white guys but they do say that more often.  "You look good.  Anyway, get that thing on."

She stepped out of the room, I got changed, and then came out again.  Momma Kamen nodded but Mom said to see if they had anything sexier.  "Let's let Gabriel's family know he's done well for himself!"

I think my jaw actually dropped in surprise.  "If the girls in Sunday School could hear you now!"

"There is a difference between a girl looking to get herself in trouble and making sure the groom's family sees you're a grown woman they can't push around!"

The staff of the shop had apparently heard it all, because they said nothing and just fetched me another dress. I went into the dressing room but soon saw there was no getting it on myself; part of it was a corset and while maybe the original Krystle knows her way around those, I sure don't.  I poked my head out, saying I could use a little help, and Momma Kamen stepped forward, staring Mom back into her chair.  She looked at the laces and started pulling.  "Too tight?"

Surprisingly, it wasn't, although the way it pushed my breasts up felt odd, different even from a push-up bra.  "No, that's okay, I think I can take a bit more."

She nodded, and pulled a couple strings tighter.  "I apologize for Mrs. Glass's behavior.  It was generous for her to get me down here, but that bit about getting into trouble was out of line."

"I mean, she's not wrong.  The moment I found out I was going to have a baby, it sure seemed like I was in trouble."  I took a breath, reminding myself that as far as Momma Kamen was concerned, I was her daughter and my mom was the one who was butting in to her family business, and the night she came to collect me must have been really strange and horrifying.  "She and her husband, they didn't see any of this coming, and sometimes trying to help is a lot like taking charge for them."  It was weird to talk about my parents as a "them", especially with Mom in the next room, so it was probably good that I didn't have both around that often.

I knew it was too much as soon as I looked in the mirror, but dutifully went out and made Mom realize we'd gone too far. It had this big ol' upside-down U cut out of the front which was nice for walking but also pushed the girls up way too aggressively and the lacy gloves were just weird.  I pointed out that some of Gabe's friends might have gone to college in Boston and we didn't exactly want them to suddenly remember Krystle's stripper name in the middle of the ceremony.

We tried another couple before finding one everybody liked, which does show off some deep cleavage and clings to my butt, but is floor length and has got neat sleeves which show off my shoulders.  Kind of a nice veil, which is a weird thing to say.  I'm probably going to have to buy a couple dresses or skirts with the same sort of slit for my legs so I can practice walking in something like that, since it didn't feel totally natural.  The shopkeepers  had some ideas about the wedding-night lingerie which would match, but having my moms there for that was too much.

I've still got another few appointments at the place, both for fittings and to get bridesmaids' dresses sorted out, which is a heck of a thing when one is flying in from Hong Kong and two from Boston, and nobody local aside from "junior bridesmaid" Moira, who is a bit too old for traditional flower girl things.

The dress is apparently going to run something like $1800, which is below average, believe it or not, because Momma Kamen is a fierce negotiator who was able to make it look like I was reluctantly not having quite so many fittings and progress reports rather than being perfectly happy to just pick something off the rack.

We all went out to dinner that night, which wasn't as tense as I thought it might be - Mom and Momma Kamen apparently thought the whole thing was funny afterwards, and I guess I should be glad Moira was there so that Gabe didn't fully hear them roasting me.  Both of them flew out the next morning on the same flight to Boston, though, I noted, on seats at the opposite ends of the plane.

Two and a half months to go.

-Jonah/Krystle

Marc/Ed: Ice cream

Pam didn't contact me for a while after finding out I had floated some money to Christine. I sensed that this prolonged period of silence was colored by a little more animosity and pointedness than her standard periods of not being in contact with her father, although it didn't last all that long in the end, as I got a call yesterday.

"Dad, I'm at work, and I need you to pick Cayden up at school. He's being suspended."

"What?" I gasped, "Why?" Being that I knew that Cayden is, in reality, a grown man (who has his flaws but is generally more or less a model citizen) I had to wonder what this could be about. Fighting? Talking back?

"I don't know the details," she huffed, "They said they couldn't tell me over the phone."

Pam was at least able to say that nobody -- not Cayden or anyone else -- was in any physical peril, which put my mind at ease, but still caused me to wonder. I got to the Principal's office and identified myself as the boy's grandfather, authorized guardian, etc. The Vice Principal -- an older woman (well, I guess that's relative ... older than I used to be, younger than I am now) -- took me into her office and sat me down at her desk. She looked serious but not, I suppose, grave.

"I'm trying to be delicate here, Mr. Levesque, because it's not funny, and of course it does happen from time to time, but the situation cannot go unaddressed."

"What situation is that?"

"Cayden was found... abusing himself in the restroom."

I don't know what my face would have looked like then, but I would guess it to be a mixture of aghast, confused, and a little intrigued.

"Abusing himself? You mean he was..." she looked at me, nodding along, as if she couldn't say it but I had to: "Masturbating?"

"That's right," she said, trying to retain her prim and proper posture. "Kids will be kids, of course, but they do need to be told that there's a time and a place for that sort of thing."

"Of course," I said. The shock was wearing off now and I was trying not to find the whole thing funny.

"You said someone found him," I went on, "In the restroom?"

"Yes, he had, erm... neglected to lock the stall. Whether on purpose or out of... negligence..." I could tell it was paining her to have this conversation, which only made it more amusing to me. I covered my face and snickered into my hand. "The child who found him has been offered counselling, and we've decided to suspend Cayden for the remainder of the day and tomorrow."

"This is really something you get suspended for?" I snorted. "Don't you think the embarrassment is enough?"

"Mr. Levesque, please, there is a code of conduct we expect all students to abide by."

"All right, all right, I'll take him home."

'Cayden' said nothing, staring at his shoes from the office back to the car. We got him buckled in and once we were alone, I asked, "Let's hear it."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, Pam is going to ask me what's up, so I need to at least hear your side of the story."

He let out a very adult grunt, then went on. "Miss Hastings. She's a young teacher, maybe twenty-five, and she's quite... curvaceous."

"Uh huh?"

"'Uh huh' what?"

"Well, how did that lead to...?"

"Do I have to draw you a diagram? You were a straight man in a previous life, right?"

"Right, right..." I said, keeping my eyes on the road, "I'm just looking for insight. I wouldn't have expected this, given you're... well, your age."

"Oh, come on," he huffed, "Let's not be naive. Lots of eleven-year-olds are capable of that, they just don't know it and have no reason to try."

"You're right, you're right," I allowed.

"I've tried to ignore it," he went on, "But you know how it is. You can want to ignore it all you want, but your body has other ideas. It demands you give in to impulse. I had already spent half a day in agony, how much longer should I have held out?"

"Until you got home, at least!" I chuckled.

"It's never been a problem before."

"It's happened before?"

"For weeks now!" he said, as if it should have been obvious. "I keep telling myself I'll stop, but then I remember that it's one of the few outlets I have available to me."

"This is just the first time you got caught."

"I was careless," he muttered.

"And the boy that found you... I'm struggling to figure out why he had to go get the Principal involved."

"Because it was a girl," John grunted.

"Excuse me?"

"The only bathroom available was the single-use one. Gender-neutral. I was in such haste I forgot to lock it."

"You traumatized that poor girl," I said.

"She didn't see anything, I just left in a hurry, and she spotted some of the leftovers and asked someone what it was. Honestly, they need to be teaching that in school, that's something I'll always believe." 

"Unbelievable, unbelievable..." I muttered, pulling into the driveway of his house.

"No, what's unbelievable is Miss Hastings in a tight sweater," he said, laughing under his breath slightly despite himself.

It was beginning to feel like we were -- borderline -- friends, something we actually never were. This is the most like equals we have ever felt, and I could sense that his wall of hatred toward me was becoming that much thinner.

"Hey," I said, "Wanna get some ice cream or something?"

"I'm a 50-year-old man, but... yeah, actually." So I backed back out of the driveway and headed down the road.

(When we got there, he hemmed and hawed analytically over the flavors. The college-aged girl behind the counter said he was a cute kid, and I allowed that yeah, he was like a 50-year-old man in a kid's body. He got pralines n' cream and I got rocky road.)

Over waffle bowls, he asked, "So, you and this Christine woman...?"

"Let's just say you have a more active lovelife than I do."

"Oh, come on," he said, "I know there's something there."

"Maybe," I said, "But I wouldn't want to break a hip."

"Could be worth it," he shrugged.

A few quiet bites later, he said abruptly, "I don't want to go back."

I stared dead at him. "Excuse me?"

"I don't mean I want to stay as Cayden, I mean I don't want to go back to being John. Come on, Ryan-- or Marc, or whatever your name is -- you've been an old man for months now. I wasn't in my 70's, but my life felt like it was just about over. Now I've been reinvigorated. I don't want to be a kid anymore but I don't see how I can go back to being my old self."

"Hm," I leaned on my elbow.

"Hm what?"

"It's just interesting. You had a good life. Why not go back to it?"

He looked down into his ice cream. "I think you know the answer to that, or you wouldn't have brought me here in the first place."

I took a big sigh. "I guess I was hoping to inspire you, to go back to living your life... more truthfully. Or reconcile it somehow. Make necessary changes, or get it all out of your system. It definitely wasn't my intention that you never go back to being John."

"But that was always a possibility -- that was a risk you were willing to take... a liberty with my body, by the way."

"Yes," I nodded along, "John, when I took you to the Inn, I abdicated my sense of logic and I've regretted it ever since."

"No, it was smart," he said, his voice creaking. "You saw what was going on with me and you-- I mean hell, if I knew this place existed I would have run toward it years ago, consequences be damned. I think I just resent you making the choice for me, but from what I understand, informed consent is impossible with the Inn. Okay. I know I won't be Cayden forever... believe me, I'm glad of that, but I don't see how I can go back to being John."

"Give it time, okay?" I said. "We still owe Ed and Cayden their bodies back and as far as I'm concerned that means we go back to being Ryan and John."

"Well, why don't you be John? Stay as long as you like. It'll be nice to settle down. Despite what I said, I'm sure there's a few good years left there."

"Because Ryan still needs his body back too."

"And you don't trust me?"

"I'm cleaning up my own messes, John."

"He said to the mess..." John said, his eyes shifting. Then he actually smiled, as if he had gotten some resolution from the conversation.

We drove back to the house. I told him I couldn't control what he did with the knowledge that the Inn exists, but I admonished him to listen to his conscience. There are people who care about him and that he professes to care about.

"That didn't matter to you when you took me."

"Temporary insanity... and a calculated risk."

"Liberties again," he shrugged. "But you're not wrong, and I hate that. God, just imagining having this conversation with Ryan, no wonder he was irresistible. To John, that is. Cayden... I don't think goes that way."

"No, we have evidence," I chuckled.

We pulled up and I dropped him off and we sent "Cayden" to his room while I filled Pam in on the story (or at least, a tactfully edited version of it). She was moderately scandalized that her little boy was growing up so fast, "I mean, first I catch him reading Stephen King novels, and now this."

"Yeah," I laughed, "He's full of surprises."

I stayed for dinner. We pointedly did not discuss Christine. It was nice.

-Marc

Aidan/Emilia: Ladies Out Celebrating

I wasn't expecting the kids to come into the bar on Valentine's Day, although I'm not sure what else I expected them to be doing.  Neither has a boyfriend (or a girlfriend, I suppose, although they certainly seem to talk about how their bodies react to boys a lot more than how they react to girls); we've all collectively decided that would be a bad idea which was only underlined when we booked our return trip to the Inn in June after making sure that the folks living our lives would be there during the two-week block before us, and they've co-ordinated with the folks living their lives, whose forms have been in limbo since September.  It must be a nightmare to becomes yourself again if you get changed early in the summer!

I didn't quite know what to expect for business that night aside from that.  As I said before, it's kind of guy-coded and not exactly a date location, and on top of that, that weekend was kind of a sports dead zone:  Football over, baseball just starting spring training, the NHL and NBA both doing all-star breaks of sorts which didn't have much on tap for Friday night, and New York City generally has enough big-league action that the only people really watching college sports are alumni and those who also have a gambling app open on their phone.  Still, it was a big going-out night, we had some live music, and folks were looking to fill seats.  I'd expected to be waiting tables, but they've started to like me tending bar.  I'm friendly enough that guys hang around but I'm not one to play favorites or get interested enough to ignore the other customers, and i still jump a little when someone slaps my ass on the floor. 

I was kind of in the zone when Kutter and Rusty came in, found a couple empty seats, and ordered their first beers.  I made a comment about "Galentine's Day" and they asked if I'd just made it up - I think a couple girls their apparent age might have got it but they were about ten when Parks and Recreation ended and never wound up binging it - and they said they were celebrating "Monica's new job".

I must have looked pretty surprised, because Rusty had just been laid off a couple days before.  Her employers had said something about having to tighten their belts with the upcoming tariffs and congestion pricing, but Rusty said she hadn't been landing a lot of new accounts lately; they'd evidently found everywhere in the city that was interested in stocking Chinese energy drinks and expanding into Long Island or Connecticut had diminishing returns.  She'd seen it coming but thought Razzy or Chandra would be let go, but apparently it was last in, first out. 

I'd underestimated how good she was at that job, as it turns out; at some point in the last six months, she had knocked on the door of not just every bodega, but every small business that night have a refrigerator in their break room, including one of those language schools you see advertised on the subway.  She mentioned that she was being laid off during her last call, and they said they had an opening for someone to work the phones and also handle bookings for corporate clien.ts.  They already knew and liked her, and while they couldn't offer the commissions that the beverage company could, the base salary was about the same and she'd be eligible for free lessons.  There is really only time for one session between then and the return to the Inn, she figured she should at least come out of this knowing the Korean alphabet and how to say hello, please, and thank you.

It was kind of interesting observing them on a night out mostly without me - they weren't dressed as sexy as New Year's Eve, but showing a bit more cleavage and leg than when it was all three of us, but they weren't really teasing.  Their attention was mostly on each other, although they were polite when someone paid them a compliment or tried to but them a drink, saying they were just into hanging with their bestie tonight.  A couple made comments about them being more than friends, and Rusty started to respond to the first with something along the lines of "you have no idea" before Kutter kicked her in the shins and said not to encourage anybody.  Rusty got the message and said something along the lines of it being gross, and Kutter responded that it was obviously the case, but there was actually a phenomenon where siblings who had never met or who were separated long enough to not recognize each other were actually more attracted to each other than random people until they found out and society's incest taboos kicked in, and something like that could be at play with the three of us, although maybe in the opposite direction.  Rusty rolled his eyes and asked why Kutter would even be reading anything about that, and she said it was to make sure nothing like that happened.

I'm taking it as a sign of maturity that Rusty did not immediately start acting like Kutter was her girlfriend afterward.

Striking maturity, really, because Rusty's sixteenth birthday was just a couple weeks later, and we celebrated with go-karting and video games at a huge warehouse of a building just outside of Brooklyn, and while I'd been bracing myself for the kids to want to go in rompers or something, it was loose t-shirts, slacks that didn't shrink-wrap themselves to our butts, sneakers, ponytails sticking out the back of baseball caps.  There were bar areas, but we never went there all night.   It wasn't even a bit my idea, either - I asked Rusty what she wanted to do for her birthday, and that's what she said.  I didn't bring it up afterwards - I'll admit, I'm kind of worried that questioning it might make her think she should be even more all-in on being an adult woman until we go back, or being scared at just how well they can partition their lives - but it was really nice to feel like I was doing normal stuff with my teenage boys, even if the kart's seatbelt did find a way of digging into the valley between my breasts.

-Aidan/Emilia

Marc/Ed: "Not her again"

Sometimes I manage to forget I'm so old.

Now, it's not easy. The world, the mirror, and my own body are full of reminders: you are not young. You don't have the energy and vitality of a 35-year-old -- and let's face it, the "value" to society. I've gotten used to the shock of seeing wrinkles, saggy jowls, and gray hair (and very little of it left.) And though my mind doesn't fully compute that I should have good eyesight, there are plenty of thirtysomethings out there with coke-bottle glasses.

But from time to time I forget that I am seen as, and supposed to behave like, an old man -- and that usually happens when I'm around Christine.

We were at lunch sometime just after the new year. We had decided on getting shawarma. I said "I love shawarma," and she ribbed me saying, "Do people your age even know what shawarma is? Is that something they had back when you were growing up during World War II?"

To which I replied, "I wasn't around during World War II... wait, was I? No, no, I'm not that old." She laughed, which is good because mentally having to remember my own age was not, in the strictest sense of the word, a joke. I had to remind myself that Ed was born in the late '40's, after the war ended.

She laughed and we continued to banter... about what it's not important, and even if I told you half of it wouldn't make sense anyway, but it was just chit-chat, and then we got to talking about serious stuff. She's got medical debts to pay off and it's not going well, and it's really putting a strain on her life and wellbeing.

I asked how much she would need to feel comfortable. She gave me a number. It didn't seem unreasonable to me. I should note that I have access to a sum of money, not Ed's, but my own that I have carried through my past few lives. It's mine to do with as I please, and sharing some with Christine, the one person who makes my time in this life more bearable, was not any kind of hardship.

She demurred, "I couldn't..."

I insisted, "You have to."

"You need it more than I do!"

"Feh, I won't be here much longer."

That briefly stopped the conversation cold, and I forgot it sounded like I meant I was going to die soon, not that I was trading this body back to its original owner.

We both got our conversational bearings again and she said "If I wasn't so afraid of onion breath, I'd kiss you!"

"Oh, I don't mind," I said reflexively -- oblivious to what seemed to be a flirtatious remark, and really just trying to make a statement about onion breath.

"I was talking about yours," she laughed, then nudged my shoulder playfully.

Eventually, after we parted ways, I thought more about that remark. I loved the idea of her liking me, but hated it in equal measure because I don't want to lead her on and make her think something is going to happen that can't happen. And probably the only reason I let it get this far is that it seemed somewhat improbable that a 52-year-old woman was going to throw herself at a 76-year-old man.

It saddens me that, for all of the obvious reasons, this can't happen. She deserves happiness, and I deserve happiness, but we can't be happy together.

But as far as the outside world is concerned there's one reason why it won't happen, and that reason is blonde, 5'4, and 44 years old.

"Not her again!" Pam shrieked into the phone when I told her that I had been out with Christine a while later.

I had brought Christine around for Christmas dinner, much to Pam's surprise, as when I said I was bringing a friend from group, she pictured someone older and possibly male. She immediately got the wrong idea -- not only that this was romantic (we both swore up and down that it wasn't) but that Christine was some kind of scam artist out to get what little money I supposedly had. This certainly didn't dispel that notion.

"What's this e-transfer for?!" she screamed -- I had to route the money through Ed's bank account to keep questions from cropping up. "I didn't even know you knew how to do e-banking! Where did you get that kind of money?" (Well, I guess I failed at keeping questions from cropping up.)

"Pam, it's my money, I'm fine, and she needs it more than I do."

She listed a litany of things I do in fact need money for, and refused to believe that my needs were taken care of.

"You do not have money to throw away on some ho-ah! I sweah, it's like you're a completely different person since mom died."

Which is true, give or take some of the timeline.

"What about repayment?" she asked, "Is she good for it?"

"It's a gift," I said. "No repayment."

She muttered some more curses into the phone and ended the call.

I sat and thought about whether Christine really was just out for money. Look, I'm not really a doddering old man who would be easy to take advantage of -- or at least, I like to think so. I'd like to think I can judge people well. But it's not like there's a lot of credibility on Christine's side for Pam, since this strange woman has seemingly just managed to extract a large chunk of her father's savings after only knowing him a few months.

But perhaps I am just too nice for my own good. Too eager to help. That's what motivated me to make a very poor decision with John last year, and now look where it's gotten me again. Like I said, it's not anything I wasn't willing to part with, but the idea that there's something disingenuous about her... that would hurt more than any financial loss.

Marc/Ed: What's best

How long has it been since I was alone? 

I was with Laura for years. Then as Chantelle, I was a single lady, but thanks to her extremely involved family I was never really alone -- they wouldn't let me.

Now, it sometimes feels like I have all the time and space in the world, and it's a little scary, even if that was what I wanted for a long time.

It isn't that Pamela, Ed's daughter, doesn't care for him. I think from her perspective she checks in often and works hard to make sure he's all right. But compared to other lives I have lived, her approach is very hands-off (this is consistent with New Englanders/Mainahs in my experience.) Even the real Ed doesn't reach out to me, preferring to not acknowledge our predicament out of a sense of privacy, rather than commiserate with someone over the fact that he is currently living as a 30-year-old Indian-American woman. And John, of course, doesn't want to talk to me much unless it's on the topic of when and how we are going back to the Inn, which I arranged as soon as I could.

I always thought I was simply a loner. Why else would I have left a lucrative job in a bustling office to drive an Uber?

But maybe I was just keeping the wrong company, and without anyone I simply feel alone. Believe it or not, being older I am okay with. If, by some mistake of fate, I was stuck as Ed forever, I would accept it, but I don't think Ed would let that happen to himself or to Cayden. I ache, my eyes strain, but otherwise I am in okay health, and if this body falls apart before my mind does, there are less deserving (or at least less-prepared) people it could happen to.

(I assure you, this post is getting better.)

But it's being unoccupied and alone that was getting to me. I felt it around the holidays, where I made token appearances with family but otherwise kept to myself... but then there was Christine.

I mentioned her in passing. We met part of the same counselling group, which I have found immensely useful to talk around my problems even if I can't say "I was a high-powered lawyer who had a nervous breakdown, then lived for several years as a girl in Albany before becoming the man you see before you." I talk about loss, I talk about Ed's late wife as code for the end of my relationship with Laura and ultimately my departure from being the person I was born as, etc etc. Mostly I stay quiet and listen, and then we play games or have a movie night.

I started seeing Christine outside of that context once the days started getting really short and cold. I came and shoveled her walk a few times, even though she insists I'm too old and frail to be doing anything of the sort (and she may have a point but my brain refuses to agree.) We have coffee now and again and she laughs in surprise about how I, in her words, don't just seem younger than myself, but younger than her ("and yet, the way you complain about grocery prices, I can tell you really are an old guy at heart." Thanks Chris.)

She's made this whole experience a little more worthwhile but I think we're kind of in a weird spot. If things were different, I might consider trying to pursue a relationship with this woman. I really do have feelings for her in a way that I haven't in a very, very long time. But even if she did return them -- and there are times I catch her looking at me and think, improbably, that that's possible -- I'm not exactly in a position to make any long-term commitments. The snow may be piled high right now, but before long spring will be here and the real Ed will return (we can only hope) and shouldn't be expected to take up someone else's fling. From what I gather of Ed, I don't think he would be all that grateful.

One thing I've learned from my experiences at the Inn is to leave well enough alone. I messed with John's life and look where it got us. The best thing for me and everyone else is to just go back to being alone -- at least for the immediate future.

-Marc/Ed

Dave/Chris: Meeting Chris and Sylvia

A few days ago, I was waiting tables in the cafe, when a couple in their 50s walked in. They had a look around the cafe and then sat down. When the man caught my attention, he called me over. He looked familiar, but it took me a moment to realise that this was the original Chris, and the woman he was with, was Sylvia. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out as soon as I recognised them "Sorry, that was rude of me. I just didn't expect you to show up here. I'm Dave, and Shane is behind the counter at the moment. It's nice to meet you in person". "Likewise", he said. "Sorry we didn't announce ourselves, but we have a few days of vacation, and decided to come here spontaneously. Come back home to some familiarity and see how you guys are doing....as us. It is strange to see yourself through someone else's eyes though." We were actually quite busy that day, and didn't have time to talk, so we decided to meet up later for dinner in an upmarket seafood restaurant that they suggested.

Shane was really stressed getting ready for that night. He complained that he didn't know what to wear. "This is where I really miss being a man. It's easy for you. Just put on a pair of pants and a shirt and you're fine. I don't know what to wear. It's a nice restaurant, and I'm still not sure what's suitable" He went back to his room, and came out again a few minutes later with a couple of dresses and a skirt and a couple of tops. "Which one should I wear?" he asked. "I spotted the blue dress he wore the first time he put on a dress and suggested that. Shane went back to his room and came out again half an hour later.  He had put on his make-up and jewellery and was wearing the blue dress with matching heels.

Dinner was interesting. I don't think I mentioned Chris and Sylvia's new names or what they do yet. They're Roger and Deborah, and both have office jobs. Roger is in middle management in a mid-size company, which Chris said was daunting at first, but that he'd managed to find his way around reasonably quickly. He said that once he realised that he could delegate most of what he didn't know, it became a question of just being organised, rather than needing too many specific skills. Deborah is in marketing, and it seemed like it's been a lot harder for Sylvia. She doesn't have the years of experience that Deborah does, and has messed a few things up. The original Deborah has told her that she loves her job, so Sylvia is now just trying very hard to not get fired before they can switch back.

Shane asked Chris about whether they had considered staying who they are, or maybe trying to find other bodies, given that he's gone from being a trans man to a biological man. "In the beginning, I really thought about it", he replied "but I quickly realised that I miss being a part of the LBGTQ+ community. It might sound strange, because for my whole life I've wanted this - to be a man, with all the right parts, but we have a life here and friends, and to be honest, I find this life dull and lonely. I wish I could keep my penis, and I think Sylvia would probably like it if I could keep it too" he said, winking at her, which made her blush "but I don't think it's worth it. Besides, we've lost about 20 years of our lives. In any case, the original Roger and Deborah want their bodies back. We'd also really like our bodies back, and would be very grateful if you help us to make that happen. We've managed to get reservations in the correct room, so we should be OK." Sylvia chimed in: "yeah, I'm a much older woman, and I don't fit in with other women 'my' age. It might also sound weird, but I really miss being bisexual. Deborah is 100% straight, and women do nothing for me now. I feel like a part of me that I liked a lot, has been ripped away. But what about you?" Chris asked Shane. "You look pretty comfortable as a woman. It's hard to believe that you were a man only a few months ago."

Shane shifted in his seat a little, adjusted his dress and recrossed his legs. "It took me a while to get past the embarassment of wearing women's clothes. At first, I felt like I was crossdressing every day, but when everyone looks at you like it's normal, and you even get a lot of compliments on your appearance, then you get over that pretty quickly. I'm looking forward to getting back, though. It takes far too long to get ready, a lot of the attention I get is too much for me, and I really hate periods. As for your sexuality...well, it's weird because I'm still attracted to women, but now I feel like I'm attracted to everyone....not everyone, literally, but you know what I mean." Sylvia looked at Shane and asked. "Obviously sexual attraction comes with your body, and that body is attracted to Chris' body. You don't have to answer, but have you two....you know, done anything about it? It would definitely be a different experience for both of you." I think both Chris and I felt equally awkward then. We admitted that we hadn't, and tried to change the subject, but the embarassment stayed with us for a while. 

For most of the rest of the meal, we chatted about fairly mundane things, but as we were getting to the end of dinner, There was something I had to ask Chris. "Aren't you worried about how Trump is taking away trans rights? I mean, as far as the government is concerned, I...and in a couple of months, you will be classed as being a woman. It scares me, and I only have to deal with it for a few more months. Do you really want to come back to that?" Chris leaned back and nodded, and said "Yes, it's a very worrying time to be trans, but I've been through worse. I don't know if I told you, but we're originally from a small town in Montana, and when we came out as gay, we were rejected by our families and lost almost all of our friends. When I came out as trans, it was even worse, and we felt like we had to move away to be happy. San Francisco seemed like the obvious place. If we can survive that, then we can survive this. With any luck, it'll be over in 4 years, and I think the Californian government will also protect us as best as they can. I love being a part of this community, and we have so many friends that I'm missing." 

After dinner we decided to go to a bar for a few drinks. It was a gay bar, and I've never been to one before, and I doubt Shane had either. I don't think I had a problem with gay or trans people in my previous life, but I was definitely ignorant. Ignorant of the hardships and challenges they face. I always wondered why you would need bars that define themselves as gay, but having gone to "regular" bars as Chris, I definitely felt safer here, even though Chris does pass quite well, apart from a few things you'd knowingly have to look for, but there's always that fear of being found out. But now, I didn't feel like I had to worry about hiding the fact that I'm a trans man. We found a table and ordered some drinks. Chris and Sylvia are actually very friendly and easy to get along with, so we stayed for a lot longer and had more to drink than we intended.

At some point, we did call it a night, and Shane and I took an Uber home. It had turned out to be both an educational and fun night, but as we walked inside Shane grabbed me and started kissing me. Between kisses, he said: "I've been thinking about what Sylvia said the whole time, about having sex with each other, and it's a huge turn on. I'm really horny." I was too, and we kept going, and we ended up in Shane's bed. I helped him take off his dress and bra, and started playing with his nipples. After a while, my hand went lower and lower, until I reached his pussy. I pulled off his panties and started to rub him around his clit. "Oh god....yes, right there" he moaned. He was very wet, and this would have been the time to fuck him. I couldn't do that, so I did the next best thing and went down on him, licking and sucking, until he tensed up. "Oh...oh...oh" he screamed. 

We lay there for a couple of minutes and caught our breaths. "OK. My turn", he said "If it's too weird or you don't like it, then we can stop at any time." I watched as he pulled down my briefs and pull out the prosthetic, and then he went to work. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was getting a blow job, and if I tried hard enough, I could almost imagine it. It felt a bit strange and different, but having a sexy woman between my legs, regardless of the genitals I had, was a big turn on. Shane kept going and I was getting closer and closer until I finally let out a long, loud moan, as I came. He immediately turned around and maneuvered himself into a position between my legs, where he could grind his pussy into mine. "I've always wanted to try this", he said. It was already a weird feeling that I didn't need any downtime before going again. I could feel his rubbing against my very sensitive enlarged clit, as we scissored and it didn't take long before we both came again. We held each other for a while, before we kissed again and I got up and went to bed. I lay there for a while, thinking about what we did, and whether we should have crossed this line, before drifting off to sleep.

It seems like we're making up for lost time now, because we've had sex for on each of the 3 nights since then, and last night was the first time we used some of the toys, which meant it was the first time I'd put something in my pussy. It's a weird feeling, but the nerves are all there and working. I don't get as wet as Shane - maybe due to the hormones, but with some lubricant, it feels really good. 

So it looks like our pretend relationship is turning into an actual relationship. I don't know how this will affect us when go back, but our friendship will probably never be the same again...

Jonah/Krystle: Meet the (Grand) Parents

We're pretty sure that Gabe meet my real parents at some point, but not sure exactly when, and I was half-tempted to search the blog and Facebook to find when before they arrived in New Orleans for their "vacation".  Which is to say, their time checking out Gabriel Potts to see if he's good enough for their son/daughter and making sure that I'm doing okay raising my daughter.  They've mostly accepted that in going to be Krystle for the rest of my life, but even with me having been a woman long enough for Moira to be a very happy and outgoing second-grader, they're not sure I've got the proper instincts to raise a little girl so she'll wind up in a better position than pre-Inn Krystle. 

And maybe I don't, but I'm doing okay with trial and error.  Moira is at the age where she's staying to ask questions about her biological father, even if she has more or less accepted Gabe as "Daddy:.  June doesn't seem to mind answering when she calls and sends birthday cards, but he's found a new girlfriend, and maybe nothing comes of it, but maybe he justifiably wants to look forward rather than behind, even if it hurts Moira a little.  Not that Moira is lacking for attention and support - Gabe and I volunteer for a lot at school and after, and try to be attentive parents.  Folks tell us we do well.

Still, my folks wanted to see for themselves, so they came down here on vacation and found reasons to not just have their granddaughter dropped off with them to babysit, although they did do a lot of that.  I think they kind of played the roles of people coming to see their granddaughter but not wanting to impose on their son's baby-mama a little too much - Gabe knows "Krystle" lived with them while "Jonah" traveled, so it's reasonable that we'd be close - but I'm pretty sure that it's mostly playing a part rather than rejecting me.  If anything, I think, it's about sparing themselves the incongruity of me being with Gabe even though meeting him was part of why they came.

We had a few fun evenings out - a riverboat cruise, some jazz, including Preservation Hall.  The latter is one of those things that you kind of avoid if you live somewhere because they're swamped by tourists but which you're reminded are, in fact, a lot of fun when the tourists drag you there.  They also had a lot of fun with Moira, who has picked up more French than I have but really only needs to say "bonjour!" and "merci!" to impress Mom & Dad.  It is adorable, truth be told, as has a girl who used to be such a fussy eater deciding she really likes po'boys and telling them to try one while they're shocked that I get red beans & rice with alligator sausage.

Everyone was having enough fun that it was hard for them to find time to talk to me as Jonah, so to speak.  They'd told me not to disrupt my work schedule too much when they informed me of their vacation plans, but because Gabe works remotely and actually has pretty flexible hours, there weren't any times we could exclude him until Friday morning, when he had a big end-of-week review meeting and I had a couple hours between dropping Moira off at school and the gym opening to have brunch with my parents after they checked out ofd their hotel.  I dressed up a bit for Brennan's, and while I didn't get too fancy, a silk camisole, capris, and two-inch heels must have seemed like a lot to them the way they stared.  I get it; even after almost ten years, their experience with me as a woman is mostly tomboyish outfits, what they probably think of as a costume or disguise when I was waiting tables, or really casual clothes for the busy single mom, and the idea that I might be wearing something that makes me look nice in a very feminine way without having to fool people was probably new.

Surprisingly, it was Mom who took it with good humor this time.  "My little boy, showing off his rack."

I laughed, in a bit of shock, but shrugged in a way I knew would make my breasts move a bit.  "Haven't been little or a boy in a while.  But it is kind of surprising; I feel like even five years ago, all of this was something I just kind of had to put up with in order to have brought Moira into the world and fed her and all that, and maybe it was useful to sometimes play it up because of how people react.  But at some point, I kind of liked how I looked in the mirror because it said something about me rather than because I saw the sexy girl as someone else.  You know what I mean?"

Mom nodded.  "Oh, I sure do.  Your father still probably doesn't really believe that we dress up more for our girlfriends and ourselves than boys, but you get it, don't you?"

Dad snorted before I could respond.  "Hey, I am not some caveman who think women are just here to please men.  It just seems like a lot of trouble, is all."  He paused as the waitress came over and took our orders.  "But you have landed a man, haven't you?"

I smiled.  "I have."

"And that's really what you want?  In here, and in here?"  He tapped his heart, and then, a bit more tentatively, his temple.

I took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain it, not to avoid giving offense, but so I could say what I meant without really understanding it myself.  "I mean, I don't think Gabe is just 'a man'; I think he's pretty special.  I don't know how all this works.  My friend Jordan, she really tries to figure out the biology of it and explain it to me, and sometimes knowing that the Inn changed something in my nose so it would respond more to men than women helped and sometimes it just made me feel like the Devil is using my body to tempt me into sin.  I don't really understand it, to tell you the truth.  I just know that the pieces of the world fit together a lot better around me and Gabe than me alone."

Mom nodded.  "A good man does make a lot of things easier."

"It's not just that.  I mean, when I first started trying to date guys, it was about that, realizing that America is really not set up for Black single moms and their kids, and trying to find a way to cushion the blow if something went wrong, but I actually started doing all right for myself.  Gabe just makes me feel more me, you know?  Even if that's not the me I was ten years ago."

Dad nodded, trying to process it, while Mom raised an eyebrow.  "Doesn't hurt hat he looks fine and has a good job, though, does it?"

My mouth sort of popped open and stayed that way while the waiter brought us our food.  "Oh my god - is that why you're suddenly so much more accepting of all this now?  Because I've got a good man?"

Mom looked down at her plate, avoiding eye contact.  "It's not just that, although seeing you do so well on that count makes it all a bit more real, but--"  She looked around and pulled her chair a little closer to the table and me, sort of remembering that Louisiana is the South, even if New Orleans often seems like a whole other thing.  It's just, this past year, with that lady at the Olympics and the election with all those people who call themselves Christians just being so mean about girls who started out as boys and vice versa and then looking to hurt them as soon as they could.  It made me realize where the hurt at at you choosing not to be the boy I gave birth to could lead, and, honey, you may not believe this, but I don't want to go there."  She reached across the table and took my hands.  "You've done so well, even without me helping the way I should have, and that includes Gabriel."

Dad nodded.  "I'm not going to say it doesn't sting a bit to see you embrace all this, but..."  He didn't seem to know how to end that.  "Anyway, I can't imagine changing  everything like you did, and kind of figured if you did get married, you'd still be, uh--"

I beamed.  "Wearing black instead of white?  Let me tell you, I kind of want to!  I've stood outside bridal shops and seen those things that go out to here and look like they'll tear if they even get near something with a point, and I just cannot bring myself to go in, and Gabe's family is sending me pictures of dresses with veils and trains and corsets, and sometimes insinuating that me not being gung-ho on the biggest, fanciest wedding and dress and reception is me not wanting to marry him!  Trust me, I have fantasized about whether it would be possible to use the Inn to make Gabe the bride and me the groom!"

A tut-tut-tut that I had not heard since high school came out of my Mom's mouth.  "Trust me, you do not want to miss out on being a bride!"  She looked at her watch and sighed.  "You should have told me this earlier; no time to do anything before our flight."

I quickly clicked my phone on and off to see I had about half an hour to get to work, so I signaled for the check, argued over who was paying before I got the bill, and then hugged before pointing them in the direction of the nearest taxi stand and then catching a bus.

That night, I got a text asking if it was okay if she and Momma Kamen came down in a couple weeks to help me choose a dress.  Is that something I should look forward to?

Dave/Chris General Update

I thought I should give everyone an update on what's been happening. The last time I wrote anything was for my birthday, which was 2 months ago. Before I start on any updates, I've noticed that Aiden/Emilia has started calling his (her) sons by their current names and using female pronouns. I haven't done this with Shane. Obviously, everyone else calls him Sylvia and "she", but I call him Shane, and he calls me Dave when we're alone and he hasn't asked me to change that. I think it might make things easier when we change back, and when you're talking to someone, you don't tend to use pronouns at all. This is the only place where I still call him Shane, and "Him". When I talk about him to anyone else, he's obviously Sylvia and "She". I'm not going to change that here, unless there's a reason to.

Anyway....The cafe normally shuts for a week or so over Christmas, and we saw no reason to change this while we were here. We were looking at going away somewhere, but everything was too expensive. We'd left things too late to get any sort of a bargain. "Why don't we go to Indy for Christmas?" suggested Shane. "I'd like to see how things are at home, and we don't have to pay for accommodation, and we don't have any other expenses like renting a car." It sounded like a good idea, so we looked and managed to find a decently priced flight for December 23 to Indy.

It was a strange feeling when we arrived. It's the city I grew up in and know very well, but this body has probably never been there, and nobody I know would ever guess that it's me. We went to our respective houses when we arrived, and decided to have some time for ourselves, before Shane would come to my house on Christmas day for a meal. I never had much to do with the neighbours, and I doubt they even realised that the house was unoccupied since September. It didn't look too bad. I'm sure if it had been left over summer, things would have looked a lot worse, with an overgrown garden, but over winter, not much grows. The first thing I did when I got inside was to open the fridge to get a beer. As soon as I opened it, I was hit by a disgusting smell. I hadn't really thought about it, but of course, I was expecting to only be gone for a couple of weeks, so I didn't clear anything out, and now everything in there had gone off - apart from the beer. I spent the next hour cleaning out unidentifiable mouldy containers and bought some baking soda to soak up the stench. I can't imagine how bad it would have been if we didn't come back until May. I also bought groceries for Christmas dinner. 

It was nice to feel the familiarity of home again, even though my body is quite a bit different to when I was there last, but as I sat in front of the TV, watching whatever rubbish was on, I managed to completely forget about that as well - to the extent that when I had to visit the bathroom, I stood in front of the toilet and forgot that I don't have a cock right now. That hasn't happened to me since the early days of the transformation. When I went to bed, I grabbed a pair of shorts out of my drawer and realised how big they are on me now. I still wore them, just for the familiar feeling, and it was great to be able to sleep in my own bed again.

The next day, I went to my shop. It was still locked up, and the note in the window still said that it would be reopening in late September. I updated it to say May, hoping that I hadn't lost too many customers in my absence. Then I went to one of my favourite restaurants for lunch. I was a regular there for many years, and it was an odd experience to sit there, and recognise all the staff and some of the customers that I've known for years, but for nobody to know who I was.

For Christmas, Shane came by at around lunchtime. He brought some dessert he had made the day before, and then we cooked a nice meal. I'm amazed at how well it turned out, because neither of us were very good cooks before, but working in a cafe and cooking and baking every day for a few months really improved our skills. Even though we never made a proper Christmas dinner before, cooking and baking skills are transferable, and the dinner was delicious and very filling. When we go back to our normal lives, it's something I'll take with me that will be a positive from this experience. We agreed not to get each other presents. There's the whole issue of who to get them for - would I be buying something for Shane or for Sylvia? It was just easier not to do it at all. I just enjoyed being home again, and revelling in the familiarity of it all. Over the time we were home, I spent a lot of time just walking around town, or even just staying at home. I met Shane for dinner a couple of times and we went out to a few of the bars that we used to visit.

On the last night before we flew out, we went out to a cocktail bar that I used to go to with my ex-wife. I don't know why I suggested it - maybe because I was with Shane, who happens to be a hot woman right now, and I kind of wanted to go on a date. I don't know....but while we were there, Stacey, my ex-wife walked straight past our table. She obviously didn't recognise either of us, but I watched her, and she walked to a booth, where a man she was with was waiting for her. He gave her a kiss as she sat down. We've been divorced for a few years, but it's the first time I've seen her with another man, and I felt like I'd been punched in the guts. All I could think about was that this is the guy who replaced me. He's the one who spent Christmas at my house, with my wife and my daughter. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't - I had to stay to see what was happening. Shane urged us to go somewhere else, but I wouldn't. Instead, I asked him to follow her into the bathroom the next time she went, and find out who the guy is. I know it wasn't a good idea, and Shane told me so, but I was adament, and eventually he agreed. After what seemed like hours, I saw her get up and walk past our table to get to the bathroom. Shane got up and followed her. Then he seemed to be gone for a long time before he came back, chatting with my ex, like they were best friends. "Hi I'm Stacey", she said as she got to our table. "Hi, I'm Chris", I replied, as nonchalently as I could, with my heart beating at 100 miles an hour. "Nice to meet you, Chris", she said. "You two have a good time, I have to get back to Brett." I'm glad she left when she did, because I'd already started sweating. 

"So what did she say?" I asked when Stacey was out of earshot. "Well", he started. "Firstly, I'm always amazed how easy it is to start a conversation with a woman in the bathroom, as a woman. I just told her that I liked her dress and it was like we were old friends. It's so much harder for men to start conversations." "Yeah, but what did she say?" I asked, getting impatient. "Well I found out that his name is Brett, and that they're getting married in the summer". I felt like I'd been punched in the guts even harder. "Are you sure you want me to go on?" he asked. "Yes, I need to know", I pleaded. "Well...I asked her if she'd been married before and she wasn't too complimentary about you." He continued. "What did she actually say", I asked again. "I don't think this is very helpful, and I don't know if I should tell you", he said with a concerned look. "You don't look well". "Please, I have to know", I begged. "OK. She said that you were a loser and she doesn't know what she ever saw in you, and the only good thing that came out of it was your daughter". I started to feel physically ill "Anything else?" I whispered. "No. That was it. she didn't seem too keen to keep talking about it. The rest of the conversation was just girl talk."

I had to go home. I really felt like I was going to throw up. We shared an Uber and got to my house first. I wanted Shane to come in with me. My emotions were all over the place and I wanted him to come up with me. Maybe I wanted to have sex with him...I'm not really sure. "Please stay over", I said, and grabbed his hand. He looked at me and obviously sensing what I had in mind said "No. I don't think it's a good idea. If you need to call me later, then call, and we can talk. I'll come by for breakfast tomorrow and then we can go to the airport together. But I don't think you're in a good state of mind right now"

The Uber drove off and I went inside and started to sob. I think even after the divorce, I thought that I could get somehow get back together with Stacey, or at least that we could get along well enough to spend holidays together with our daughter. I couldn't sleep that night, and the next day, Shane came over for breakfast as promised, and we got a ride to the airport to go back to San Francisco. I wasn't in the mood for talking, so it was a very quiet trip back.

Back in San Francisco, we had a low key New Years with friends of Chris and Sylvia, and the change of scenery made me feel better. I slipped back into Chris' life, and the feelings I had in Indy seemed like a lifetime away (which it kind of is). One thing I came to realise is that Chris lives a far more fulfilled life than I do. He has a wife, and a social life in a welcoming community, where he is well known and loved. I have my business, my friendship with Shane and not much else. And ever since I realised this not long after occupying this body, it's made me wonder whether I should even go back. The only thing I was holding onto was the hope that I could reunite with my family. Now that this seems impossible, I don't know what the point of going back is anymore. I can't keep this life, because I'm pretty sure that Chris and Sylvia want to come back, and in any case, I don't want to live out my life as a trans man.

I managed to get reservations for the reopening of the Inn, in the same room that we had when we were transformed, which should pretty much guarantee that we're going back to our original lives. But the question is whether I want to.