I won't keep you in suspense. Yes, John and I are both "back where we belong," as it were. As Dave indicates in his post, it happened the night after I last posted. I awoke feeling lighter and less achey than I had since last fall.
Once we got through the astonishment that our crazy plan worked and I did not end up in John's body and vice versa, or some more chaotic third option, he and I took a moment to breathe.
Early in the morning, I could hear some frantic chatter in the halls. Someone knocked on our door, I answered and saw a panicked-looking woman. After dressing in the clothes my past-self had left back in September, I agreed to address the group, explaining what I could about the Inn's curse and the added wrinkle that all of these people's "lives" had been on hold since September. Six of the people who had come were on a bachelorette getaway, and then there was a trio of other returners who also succeeded in reclaiming their bodies (or at the very least, seemed okay with the results.) Tallying things up, I realized that not a single person from this group went from male to female, which I think is an interesting stat.
I handed out some contact information where -- assuming I have access to technology -- I can be reached in any identity, as well as highlighted this blog as a resource. I made sure to indicate that this was not forever, and while returning to your original life took some effort, it was very doable and seems to happen often enough.
John said little, but after we retired to our rooms, he expressed admiration for my poise. I reminded him I've done my fair share of public speaking.
A moment later, another forceful knock on the door. It was the bride-to-be, who was obviously taking things very harshly. She had become a very fetching woman. Her maid of honor was in tow to try to console her. She had become the woman's husband, a burly, bearded fellow who looks like he either works construction or tends bar at a hipster joint, and I was jolted by how quickly my Ryan-ness had asserted itself when I found myself admiring "his" looks more than the bride/wife. Over time, we were able to talk the bride down, but I tried to let her have space to feel her feelings. John, for the most part, sat in the corner scrolling through his phone, seemingly taking stock of what he was going back to (occasionally murmuring a displeased "oh, dear.")
After the initial chaos died down, the Bachelorette girls circled up together, and the family of three sorted their business out, and I felt ready to leave. John and I shared a ride down to New York. He was a little guarded -- when I asked him how he felt about going back to Mary, he only said "we'll see what we see," with a noncommittal shrug. He asked me why I didn't go back to being myself, and I sort of told him there was baggage there I simply didn't feel like I could face, which only partly concerns my ex-wife.
"Okay, before we go, I've got to know... what did you really look like?"
I showed him a picture of my old self, and he gave a very neutral nod, which to be fair is all my original life merits. Then I showed him a picture of Chantelle.
"She's quite pretty. I'll bet you had a good time once you got used to it."
I smiled self-effacingly. "I have some good memories and some bad memories. Less about the body, more about the life. As a man, you think, I could never enjoy being a woman, but... well, you'd be surprised. Surprised the most by how little it matters compared to other things."
John nodded, as though this provoked some thought in him -- and why wouldn't it? I sometimes forget, I have experienced something very strange and interesting.
"It's very surreal to me to know that I never really met Ryan," he said as we neared the city. "To know that the face you're wearing right now is someone else's. I have a lot of feelings about that and it's going to take a long time to resolve them." He had this strange smirk, a glint in his eye that I kind of liked -- because it seemed to indicate that, no matter how unethical and wrong my choice to bring him to the Inn was, it seems to have sparked something in him that he needed.
Or maybe I'm just projecting.
We parted ways with a friendly, chaste hug. I felt this weird compulsion to say "Don't be a stranger," which made us both laugh because it's probably best if we become strangers from here on out.
After that, I landed at Ryan's friend's apartment -- I had made arrangements for his return from "Florida" after letting his lease lapse during my absence (all his stuff is in storage, something I accomplished as sort of a weekend project when I was Ed... which was way more grueling than I thought it would be, but worthwhile) and took a shower.
Two months until I return and find out what the next next part of my life looks like.
-Marc/Currently Ryan
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