Before I left Maine, I collected every scrap of information I could about the Inn -- who could be using it, who has been there, who controls it (if anybody.) I don't know a lot more than you probably do, dear reader, but I'm on track to find out.
While I'd love to get a sense of the bigger picture, my immediate concern is my own body, and the person whose body I'm in. According to the "rules" Kiara would have been in the pod before me. There's no record from that period indicating who-went-where (how convenient) but there is a guestbook, which Kiara did sign, and more importantly, so did the 13 people who stayed there last, one of whom is having their life currently lived by Kiara.
We know a bit about them: Dave/Chris, Shane/Sylvia, John/Cayden and Marc/Ed/Ryan/whomever else. If Ryan is to be believed, the rest of the visitors that week were all female, but none elected to post on the blog or leave a convenient calling card. Find them, and I'm one step closer to finding Kiara.
Marc, then, seemed like my best bet to get any information whatsoever. I got his contact info and made arrangements to see him in New York.
I wish there was more I could do for the people that are here now, but I have to focus on myself.
On my way out, I violated one of the supposed tenets of the Inn. By way of leaving information for the "New Tom" I only left a handwritten note saying "If you didn't want this to happen, I'm sorry. Email me for details" setting up a unique address only the person reading that note would have access to. I then took all of my belongings -- my phone, my laptop, my keys, my credit cards. Sorry, but I'm not playing nice with these people, and if someone innocent needs any of this, they know where to find me. Obviously I left behind my clothes, toothbrush, epi-pen and other essentials... not only am I not a psycho, but it would be nuts to try to carry two persons' worth of luggage with these boney little arms.
Once I got to NYC, I checked into a shabby Motel on Long Island -- I had a feeling my funds were going to start running out so it was best to start saving (as a freelance journalist I'm not exactly Scrooge McDuck with a vault of cash.) I met "Ryan" at a crusty spoon somewhere in Queens, where he was enjoying a chicken pesto panini. I slid into the booth across from him and asked if it was okay to turn on my voice recorder. He agreed.
He was a little tentative in what he could tell me. "People aren't always in a sharing mood at the Inn," he said. "People get guarded. People are afraid. People have agendas. I don't know that anybody I was there with had a history with it, besides the ones we know... but who knows, right?"
We ruled out the other three, of course -- we know a bit about who they are and who is supposed to be in their next bodies. He confirmed that Ed and Cayden are back where they belong, which he said with a snort, "That was a relief -- that's a mixup you don't want to wait a year to fix." I wasn't in a laughing mood exactly.
Then there was the Bride and the Maid of Honor, and the other members of their party. "That's suspicious to me," I noted. "A group of women just happens to end up at this rustic, nothing-happening spot for their bachelorette getaway?"
"On the one hand, people blunder into the inn accidentally all the time," he said, "But if I'm your mysterious enemies, I probably want to limit the unknowns and pull some strings. And we can agree that they probably chose Kiara for you."
"It does feel like it," I noted with a sigh as I contemplated my body, "Putting me anywhere was probably going to keep me off the board, but a teenage mom from Nowheresville, North Carolina? That seems intentional."
"They must have put her somewhere she's not going to talk or reach out to you, but I don't know which of these women fit that profile."
"Were you in law enforcement?" I asked, apropos of the turn this convo was taking.
"Corporate law," he said. "And then Real Estate."
"Interesting pivot," I said.
"That pivot came with a new body," he nodded.
"So you went from being one lawyer to being another lawyer?"
"Don't think that's lost on me," he said. "Moving on... I notice you haven't said much about Kiara's family."
"Yeah, well," I gave a pained sigh, "It's easier to focus on this. I've made contact. The baby's being taken care of, that's all that matters."
We discussed what we knew further, I picked at his kettle chips, it was altogether a fine way to spend an afternoon if you have to be investigating a missing person whose body you're in. He said he would try to help any way he could, but that the next time he goes to the Inn it will be a bit far down the chain to encounter the new Tom directly, and who knows where he goes from there.
Toward the end of the conversation, I asked if he had any tips for a first-timer, as someone who has seemingly been all-over the spectrum of experiences.
"Well," he said with a self-effacing grin, "If and when you return to the Inn, don't bring any first-timers yourself. You don't want that on your conscience, no matter what they say later."
"Stands to reason," I said.
"Other than that... be open to it. You've got youth and energy, and yes some responsibilities on your plate... but managing all that is where life happens anyway. Don't sit in a room and cry about it for a year. Get out there and taste the fruits of life. Embrace it for what it is, whether you can get your body back or not."
"From how positive you seem, it kind of sounds like you're trying to get me to join a cult," I quipped.
He chuckled, "If I were trying to get you to join a cult, you wouldn't think that until it was way too late. That's what makes them cults." He leaned forward and took a big sip from his milkshake. "That's gonna be a few sit-ups but so worth it."
Reflexively, I looked down toward my own soft belly -- and saw only the bird's eye view of breasts jutting out from my v-neck. No workouts to get rid of these. I absent-mindedly placed a hand on one as the soreness set in. When I realized later, I thought how polite of Ryan not to mention I was publicly groping myself... if he noticed.
I went back to the hotel, listened back to the conversation, and pumped while I wrote some notes... including this:
"Ryan gave off good vibes, as they say -- friendly, nonthreatening, a real change-up from the encounters I've had since this thing began, which was refreshing. I happened to notice he's a good-looking guy. I can say that, right? It's objectively true with his facial features and physique. I might have thought the same thing in my own body, just as a matter of observation. Let's not unpack this any further because there are about twelve layers of wrongness to it."
More to come,
-Tom/Kiara
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