Marc/Dustin: Lies within lies

After you've been to the Inn, you lie a lot.

"Yes, I remember that," "Of course I feel comfortable in these clothes," "So-and-so's birthday is very important to me." You lie because you've got to, because the truth is impossible to tell, it's easier and it makes people feel better.

So there's lines drawn. There's you, and whoever else knows the truth about the inn, on one side, and the rest of the world on the other.

Normally, that's an easy situation to navigate. When I was a woman named Chantelle Carey, I could forget for long stretches that I had ever been a man named Marc Green. Oh sure, I laid up at night wishing I could go back to normal, or some semblance of it, but in my day-to-day, I was her, doing her/my job, going for drinks with her/my friends, spending time with her/my family. The only person who knew my secret was the last one who wanted to do anything about it. Before long most of what I said as her applied to me.

As Ryan, with John, we were in a little bubble, aware that what we were doing had consequences on the outside but as long as we were huddled together we were safe and secure. Whatever lies were told on the outside was none of my business. When we became Ed and Cayden, we eventually became aligned on what reality was, when, and to whom.

I may not have loved being a lawyer as Marc Green -- and somewhat tolerate it as Chantelle -- but I did have a mind for details. So it was never a problem to differentiate one level of reality from another.

Then this happened, and I had to re-draw the lines on the fly. Pretend I don't know John, never spent time in bed with him, didn't abscond with him for a year to try to ... whatever it was I was hoping to accomplish in 2024. Reality is different depending on whether I'm with him, Mary, or others.

Anyone would find the situation weird. As Dustin, I've been standing back and letting John and Mary get accustomed to their new "dynamic." John of course has to pretend like this is all new to him, and given he's in the body of a 110-lb woman, I guess you could say it is new to him. It's easy enough to pretend like his year as Cayden never happened and that he's just as much thrown off-guard by the Inn's magic as Mary is.

You can tell he has been before though. He has a lot more presence of mind than a lot of newbies might. Most people would panic and cry out in fear if they woke up suddenly in such a strange body. John is all business. "What should I wear, what should I do with my hair," matter-of-factness. It's not that different from how he was when he became Cayden, I suppose, (he was more upset at my part in it than any kind of inscrutable magic curse) but your first Inn experience being a young boy rather than a grown woman is a different thing.

With our transformation occurring at the very end of the "block," we didn't exactly have time to laze around and "get used to it." Being the veteran, I took the lead in suggesting the sensible course of action was to go to the town where these three lived and set up camp there. Mary protested that she would like to go back to New York and take care of some things. She has a rather large jewelry collection, and several other expensive items she is worried will get stolen/sold in her absence. She pled that there must be some way that they could stay in their own home. I underlined that she doesn't look like herself and the people who do will have the rights. John wasn't overly supportive, encouraging Mary's line of thinking even though he should know better.

"Here are my thoughts, and you can take them or leave them," I said at the end of a very long, heated discussion, "To me, you want to play nice with the people who will have your identities. If you want to get back into that life someday, which I assure you is very possible, you will need to stay on their good side and keep communication open." 

"People aren't that trustworthy in my experience," Mary scoffed, "I'll need leverage."

"Okay fine," I acquiesced, "Go to New York, squat in your condo, put all your belongings in a safety deposit box or a storage unit. Drain your accounts. Do whatever you feel is appropriate, I'm only telling you what has usually been done and usually worked. It's your life... so to speak."

"Ah, ah, ah," John interrupted in his small voice, "Let's talk."

He took his wife aside, just barely within earshot, and they began to converse in a low tone. Mary, as Cassie, towering over her husband, nodding along, tears building up in her eyes as he took her by the hands.

I heard some variant of "They're just things, Mare."

"They're not, that's my whole life. That's our life, don't you care?"

"Of course I care, but there's only so much we can do... we've still got each other..." 

I watched, arms folded across my chest. Was this genuine, or manipulation, or somehow both? What does John really feel about Mary, and the life they are leaving behind?

They returned, Mary wiping tears away from her cheeks. "Okay, I still want to go to New York and get some things, but after that we'll go along."

"Thank you," I said. She wrapped am arm around her little husband, who took the opportunity to rest his head on Mary's breast. Once again, I was given to think -- what exactly am I looking at here?

---

After all that, it was time to pack up and go, and outside of the crisis zone I saw John and Mary's relationship in action. The term "old married couple" certainly applies. Mary's quite finicky. "This suitcase isn't packed properly, would you start over?" To which John replied with a world-weary "Yes, dear," that sounded parodic coming out of Dakota's mouth as he lumbered -- as much as a skinny 5'3 girl can lumber -- back to redo it. As the muscle of the group, I was primarily responsible for loading the rental car, a CRV, and also for driving it since neither of them felt particularly up to the task in their new forms.

Next they bickered over the back seat. "Why do I have to sit in the back?" she asked. "Because Dustin's driving and I'm his girlfriend." "Oh, are you now?" "You know what I mean." "You don't need the leg room." "I can scooch up. Hey Marc, how do you work this thing?"

"How about you alternate," I arbitrated, a solution that was equally unsatisfactory for all. Then there were disagreements over navigation I did my best to manage. And don't even get me started on the radio selection.

We didn't stay in New York long, but I think that Mary really just needed to see it one last time to say goodbye to the life she was being taken from. Not everybody gets that, so I understand, but when it comes down to it, there's not much you can do. Okay, you've got some diamonds and some crystals and some gold to stash away. Family heirlooms. A life you spent a lot of time and money building is being taken from you, but you know, things happen... fires, floods, people get their lives upended all the time. Maybe I'm too "Zen" about it from being unmoored for all these years and never really valuing being Marc Green in the first place.

Then it was to our little college town, which I will call Springdale in lieu of any defining features. The others in our house -- yes, it's not just the three of us but I'll explain more about who's who later -- had a lot of questions about where we'd been and how long it had taken us to come back, and we all just kind of shook it off, I think the closest thing we gave to an answer was that we just felt like staying longer -- being in our twenties, that seemed like a reasonable kind of irresponsible. Dustin and Dakota are not really employed in any serious way, and Cassie had quit her job when it became clear that "she" would not be back after the original two week vacation. That means that the three of us are starting from scratch, which suits me fine, since all I have to do is get Dustin into an acceptable holding pattern because I'm sure an athletic 22-year-old is not keen on leaving his body and life behind, an I'm happy to serve.

More on all this to come

-Marc/Dustin