Arthur/Penny/Millie: Halloween Project

Between tennis, and school, and editing a manuscript, and trying to find out where my daughter had vanished to, I hadn't even thought about Halloween, at least, not until I was hanging out with a couple of Millie's friends after school and one of them looked at me nervously and asked if it would be weird if we did KPop Demon Hunters as a group costume.

Which I should have seen coming; much as a tween like Millie isn't going to get that excited about a cartoon, or at least isn't going to show it, a thing everyone was watching that was all about Korean girls was a big deal, especially since, between Ray and myself, we kind of get frustrated in terms of finding stuff a Korean-American girl her age would like that doesn't position girls like her as a sidekick.  Her tastes don't really match up with ours, and both Ray and I will look at a lot of the Korean import stuff on Netflix and think it's too violent.  It's kind of a reminder that, while I may be closing in on 20 years as a woman, I did it without ever having been a girl, and a lot of this is new to me.

Also?  It's kind of cool that her friends asked if this would be weird, given that Millie's the only ethnically Korean or Asian one among them.  I'm not sure that 13-year-old Arthur would have really given a lot of thought to appropriating something like that.  Blackface probably would have been right out, but a cool costume?  Maybe not.

We could have gotten pre-made costumes easily - I think half the girls in Millie's class are dressing as KPop Demon Hunters this year - but I made the suggestion that it would be more fun to make our own.  I've kind of gotten used to doing this; as Penny, I'm about six feet tall, which means I'm kind of limited in terms of options when I just go shopping for regular clothes, but for Halloween, anything short and sexy is going to show off my entire ass, which was kind of fun as a younger woman but kind of inappropriate when chaperoning a party for kids or answering the door for trick-or-treaters.  So I've gotten pretty good at making my own costumes, although I'm not any kind of expert cosplayer who goes to comic book conventions to show them off (and I've attended conventions to promote my book, so I know of what I speak).  There's a whole blog post about guys who become women and have to learn how to alter clothing or otherwise sew and then feeling strange because it's one of those gendered activities that might be a blind spot for a lot of women, too.

The point is, though I have made an effort to train myself to be good at it and find it a lot of fun, I vastly overestimated how much a couple of twelve-year-old girls would maintain interest in this and wound up doing most of it myself.  Which was fine; it gives me something to do after school and Millie's friends think I am/she is cool for doing all this, so I'm doing what I can to maintain her friendships while not actually hanging out with a bunch of kids.  Millie's friends are, by and large, pretty cool kids, but it gets very weird when they start talking about boys in their/our class.  I'll come home and think, do all of these costumes need to include crop-tops?  Am I worried about this as a mom because it'll be chilly in the evenings all week or because I know boys are going to be looking at our waists?

I did a pretty darn good job, though - I think we definitely will look better than the folks who went to Spirit Halloween, and kind of wonder what Millie will think when/if she sees the photos Ray took last night to post on social media.  That was maybe the most surreal thing, striking superhero poses with the girls and finding myself giggling along with them.  It's not entirely a tween thing - adults who get dressed up for Halloween do the same thing - but I was definitely vibing with them in that moment in a way I'm kind of wary of most of the time, knowing how the Inn can mess with your head.

The most annoying thing: Harmon being a jerk about me borrowing some of my own boots for the costume, or when I ordered a couple things online.  She acts like she's teasing me, but even where Halloween costumes are concerned, I think it's really important to not rule play mother and daughter in the apartment unless there are guests. 

Anyway, I hope Millie sees the pictures her father is posting and likes them, and maybe even wants to try the costume on once we're back to normal 

- Arthur/Penny/Millie

Tom/Kiara: Down but not out

So here I am.

20 weeks -- five months in this unlikely role. Teenager. Daughter. Mother.

There are times, God help me, that I seem to forget I was ever Tom Nishimura -- was ever myself. Not to be too dramatic. It's actually easier in some ways to look at it that way. I have a lot in front of me. A daughter. A family. School. None of it is supposed to be mine, but that's what I'm dealing with. I don't work in "supposed to," I have an objective reality. Today I am Kiara. I might not always be, and maybe if the tides somehow completely turn I might even be Tom again, but... well.

I don't even think of myself as a woman. Or a man for that matter. Sure, when I pull my clothes off at night there's a woman's anatomy, but what I am is just a big, sleep-deprived, milk-producing mess, one with long hair (but not as long as it used to be thanks to a very helpful hairdresser I befriended) and who sits to pee. Gender, I'm learning, is even more of an illusion than I thought -- even with my body this way, I don't feel too much like a girl and I don't seem to get many of the "looks" some women get just for existing, maybe because of my constantly disheveled state. ("Sex" is a little more tangible, as I learn every month when the cramps come in.)

Still, I'm nothing like the Tom I used to be. I even considered excluding his name from this post's title, but... that would be giving in to something I'm not ready to face yet.

Sorry, for someone whose job is communicating clearly, I must not be making a lot of sense. Chalk that up to said lack of sleep. At the very least, the chaos of these opening paragraphs -- the first thing I've written in months -- helps express my frantic state of mind. I'm Kiara. I'm Tom. I'm a kid. I'm an adult. I'm a man. I'm a mommy.

Summer in North Carolina was... hot, sticky, long, and irritable. I integrated, as best I could, with Kiara's family. One thing that can't be denied is that they know how to take care of kids. They know that when a 17-year-old gives birth, the response is to both step up and help, and also always make sure she knows she screwed up. It's a rite of passage that I gather Kiara's mom faced, and her mom too. On that note, there is always someone to take care of the baby, to feed her strained squash, change her and keep her occupied, so that I can focus on living my life -- whatever kind of life I'm supposed to have. Of course, I'm still pumping, and breastfeeding directly when I can. Which sucks because in the last few months the girl has started getting teeth.

Sometimes I look at her, and I think about where we were when we started this -- how small she was, how new it  all was to me... and I melt. I have to admit it. I didn't want to be a parent, certainly not a mom, and yet I look at the little peanut and I think, holy crap, we've already been through so much together. It humbles me, and it also fills me with rage at the notion that Kiara may have willingly and knowingly walked away from this (we don't know for sure yet, so let's give her the benefit of the doubt.) 

Shit, I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking about it. That's the Kiara in me.

That's the real curse. Not losing my junk, or my professional standing or the years of personal living. That could all be returned. But being linked with this baby, feeling like she's my responsibility and I'm all she's got (which is not true and yet feels suspiciously true) and that I would be doing a bad thing by leaving her... that's the curse. That's the thing that's got me damned.

As far as daily-life goes, I'm navigating that daily tango of support and judgment. I try not to take it personally -- I can't be held accountable for decisions that Kiara made before I became her, but I'm the one that has to live with them. Ultimately I decided not to enroll at her high school. That would have been too weird. Kiara herself may have felt some attachment to friends and teachers and the fact that she was only one year away from graduation, but Tom-as-Kiara prefers a different approach. Instead I signed up for Adult Learning to pursue a GED. With the pace of classes, it's something that would take more than a year -- which means that if I get away from this life by next summer I won't have graduated for her. It's a better environment than a normal high school because everyone else here has some similar thing about them to brand them as an outcast: a criminal record, a history of addiction, a brain injury, kids of their own. I've made really good friends with the Indian woman named Sunita who is new to the country and reasonably smart but needs something to show for it.

I'm not ready to give up on Tom's life. I still have his goals in front of me: publish my expose, learn the truth about the original Kiara, do something that feels like putting this situation right. They just feel a lot further away than they once did, with a lot of other obstacles in between. Sometimes it's hard to determine what's really important -- the big things I can't affect, or the little ones that I'll get in trouble for ignoring.

Like homework. You've still got to do algebra when you have a kid at 17.

Hope to speak to you again soon.

-T/K

Ande: First Anniversary

So here's a kind of funny thing:  Andie and I both had our first-anniversary dates about a week ago, and it's kind of funny how sometimes we're in sync like that, even though we're in different parts of the country.  I mean, we should be - we're twins and we've exchanged lives! - but things don't quite wind up lining up quite so often as we'd like.  

She and her boyfriend did fly out this summer, though, to see the fireworks on the Fourth and get a chance to hang out with me and Hildy.  The spare room they used has since been filled with Griff's girlfriend - they really like having their own space - and I like Chipper.  I don't think I would have dated him myself, though Andie does think about what might have been when hanging around Hildy, but he seems like a pretty good guy who likes Andie a lot.  I'm also glad to see that long Covid isn't completely kicking her ass these days, though she shows symptoms often enough that we didn't bring up the idea of switching back.

Strangely enough, I may have felt more pangs for my old life during the anniversary date.  Hildy and I don't dress up much when we go out, to the extent that she was making jokes about how completely buried her one pair of heels were in her closet, but she clearly spent a lot more time than usual, curling her hair, doing her makeup, waxing her legs, all that.  On the one hand, it kind of sounds like a real pain in the neck these days, but in the other, my heart kind of jumped into my throat when I met her at her place.  Sure, I was wearing a coat and tie,  but it wasn't the same effect. 

The date itself was fun - we had a nice meal at Legal and then went to a show at the A.R.T., then got snacks at Insomnia Cookies because we didn't really want to mar the night by not being able to talk or way into a bar.  We spent the night at her place (we didn't want to get the stink-eye from the new roommate either).

Andie texted me a selfie overnight, saying she knew it was weird for me but if she was wearing garters and stockings and had a big old slit practically all the way to her butt, plus a push-up bra, she was showing off.  I laughed, saying she looked good and I don't know if I would have had the patience, and she said, yeah, probably not, but sometimes we both overcompensate.  I asked how I overdo it, and she said she couldn't help but laugh at how short my hair was in July  especially since I had to wear a baseball cap in order to avoid sunburning my scalp. 

She's got a point, I guess. 

Anyway, it's kind of worth noting that I've been doing my thing as a guy long enough to have an anniversary that's more about being happy about something in this life rather than thinking that i can't believe I've been a guy long enough to have dated a girl for a year. 

-Ande

Rusty/Monica: Does this count as a long-term plan?

I've enrolled in a new class.  Not a language one - I'm kind of getting nowhere with Korean and while I'm going to keep plugging away at that, I'm guessing it probably wouldn't be a great idea to try to learn something else on top of it - but studying for a real estate license.  Basically, I really enjoyed working in sales with Dragon Energy, in part because it got me out and about in the city, as opposed to sitting at a desk and making phone calls all day. 

The class is on the same building as the language school - I'm not sure how many times I started at the sign over the past few months without thinking that it might be fir me - so it's really convenient.  On Fridays, I finish work at about six, run out to grab a slice, and then head back in.  Even if you're calling me 23 rather than 16, I'm still the youngest person in class by a lot.  About half the class is recently-divorced women from Long Island, one of whom did not take me saying that it was either this or medicine well at all, because I guess her ex is a doctor who cheated on her with a pharma girl.

It's kind of nice to have something to do on Friday nights when Katey and Dad are out with their boyfriends.  I'm starting to think that I'm the "A" part of LBGTQIA+, and that the original Monica was too.  A few of her college and high school boyfriend have messaged me about getting lunch or a drink while they were in the City for a meeting or convention or something, and they all seem to like Monica and wish it had worked out, but they just weren't a physical match or something.  A couple apologized for being impatient because she wanted to take it slow, or getting the wrong idea because she liked running around campus in skimpy workout clothes.

I haven't really talked about this with Dad and Katey, specifically, because I'm not totally sure.  Like, I'll be runningin the park and someone will make me turn my head, but it doesn't feel like desire so much as appreciation, I don't think.  Dad's not sure i can tell the difference, and maybe she's right, but it just doesn't ever feel important. 

And it's important to them!  Things are going surprisingly well with Dad and June/Jonah. Dad still really doesn't like getting dressed up or made up, and she's always really embarrassed when she doesn't get home until the next morning, like she wouldn't enjoy being with someone who was a woman for decades and really knows what's going on inside her. 

And I want Dad to have fun and be happy, but it's kind of making me feel like a fifth wheel.  J/J joined the trivia team yesterday, and Katey is always flirting with Omar during trivia,  so i feel a bit left out.l, kind of wondering if the original Monica would let folks at her up because it made hanging out with her friends easier. 

Anyway, it's nice to have something to do on Friday night, and I really do think being a realtor could be a really fun job! 

- Rusty/Monica

Toby: Dunia & Papi

(Wrote this October 1st, forgot to hit send!)

Doing this again to try and forget that I'm in a flight attendant's uniform and will soon be flying to Washington, doing a job i haven't trained for at all. 

The strange thing is, that feels like the first thing that had me really nervous since arriving in Miami.  It seems crazy to say that, because nobody else seems to really click into new lives quite so fast, but as soon as Lambert dropped me off in front of this pastel-colored building, her father ran out and squished me to his chest.  "Where were you?  Everyone has been so worried!"

"We, uh, got lost in the woods.  Ms. Polawski... Alicia... had this 'glamping' idea, and while she backed a ton of extra food, she apparently forgot a compass, and after these other guys found us...  Well, it was just so embarrassing..."  I felt embarrassed saying this, but I guess that made it sound believable, because he just kissed the top of my head, said I didn't ever need to ashamed to tell him anything, and then picked up my luggage, apparently not noticing that there were two suitcases instead of one.

I'd seen pictures and video of Enrico Cortes on Dunia's phone, but somehow hadn't expected a few things.  You can always smell the garage on him, for instance, even underneath the Old Spice (also: Dunia has an unnervingly good sense of smell), and even when he's so happy to see you that you think he'd overdo a hug, you can sort of feel that he knows when to stop.  He's also strangely tidy - his mustache is perfectly trimmed and every room in this little house is so well-organized that I haven't had to arouse suspicion by asking where anything is in the past week, or at least every room except for Dunia's bedroom.

It wasn't quite dark yet but I was tired, and fell asleep practically as soon as I sat on the bed.  When I woke up the next morning I saw my shoes were neatly placed at the foot of the bed and I'd been covered with a light blanket, which was kind of creepy, but maybe that's just what fathers do when they see their daughters sprawled out with the door open?  I was kind of fuzzy - this was, like, my third day as Dunia and I was kind of jolted awake by her face in the mirror, but let my nose lead me downstairs to where he was scrambling some eggs, and perked up on seeing me.  "Hey, you're up early!  Although I guess you went to bed pretty early for you, so it balances out.  Join your old man for breakfast?"

"Uh... okay."  I sat down and he handed me a plate.  I was a little nervous at first - there were bits of peppers in the eggs, but it wasn't bad at all.  The orange juice was fresh-squeezed, too, and for as silly as I feel silly getting all wide-eyed at my first sip because it's nothing compared to what else is new, it really was different. 

Her dad noticed and chuckled.  "They don't have the fresh aid up in Maine, huh?"  I imagine it's like North Dakota, where they have it in the fancy places folks like Lambert so at but which is out of my range, but obviously didn't say anything  "Well, I'm off to the shop.  Anything you need me to bring home?  I got those bath oils you wanted while you were away, and I imagine you're looking forward to that after your adventure!"

Taken aback, I lifted an arm and smelled my armpit.  I've smelled worse, but I imagine a girl who asks her dad to pick up bath pills doesn't often go 48 hours without showering, especially in this humidity.  I let him awkwardly hug me goodbye, and then made my way to the bathroom 

There was a whole line of products against one wall, and I sarcastically took a picture and texted it to Dunia:  "What an i supposed to do with all this?"

It was only a minute or so before she texted back: "Hahahhaha, that must seem like a lot

"Why don't you just get in and soak and I'll write something up?"

I was kind of surprised by the quick response. "Isn't it like 5an there?"

"4! No daylight savings time

"Guess I'm an early riser now and still sort of on eastern time"

I turned on the faucet and put a door under the tap until it seemed okay.  "That sucks"

"Could be worse, I guess.  I'm kind of hot for an odd man"  She sent a selfie of a silver-haired man in a wide-beater.  She did look like she was in pretty decent shape.  "Now you"

I tried to be cute, throwing up a v-sign and posing with my mouth open so I didn't look annoyed to be her.  There was a brief pause, and she texted back not to make hand signs unless I really meant it.

Then:  "Hey don't be shy about washing my v, ok?  I know it's weird - BELIEVE ME - but I want EVERYTHING in good shape next year"

"Um, k"

She didn't respond door a minute or two, so I took a deep breath, stripped, and lowered myself into the bath.  I winced a bit when the warm water touched my new private parts, but once I was in, it wasn't a big deal.  I mean, it was weird, but it wasn't arousing or anything.

I exhaled and looked down.  Dark-ish skin, perky breasts, tight waist, landing strip, butt flaring out, pretty nice legs.  Little landing strip above a slit, yes, but it kind of hit me that this at least looked tidy, compared to what Dunia must be seeing from the same angle.

I just sat there for a bit.  The warm water felt good, the house was quiet except for some birds outside.  It was kind of peaceful.  I closed my eyes and let my head sink below the water, feeling my hair float on the surface, then popped back up.  That felt like enough doing nothing, so I picked up a lavender-scented beauty bar and started rubbing it on my body.  My skin was soft, and kind of sensitive, but it wasn't ...  Like, you spend a lot of time as a guy thinking about how everything about girls is sexy, but it's actually just skin muscle and fat the way my own body is.  Even when washing my chest, it was like, there's weight and mass there, but touching it doesn't make me go nuts or anything.

Anyway, I got washed up and smelling nice, and once I'd tried off I walked back to her room to get dressed.  Just a simple t-shirt and shorts - it was in the 80s - and spent a little time zooming with Dunia afterward, as she went through all the stuff in the bathroom and said what it was for.

We zoomed a lot over the past week, and I get the impression that's not normal - like, a lot of folks just get thrown into a new life without a lot of help, but I kind of get the impression that Dunia is kind of bored between trips and is in kind of a similar situation to me - she's getting instruction on driving an 18-wheeler and kind of worried about it, so when she has a chance, she's helping me with makeup and going through her Instagram feed to fill me in on everyone.  I complained about her wardrobe a bit but she said I'd like having this butt when her girlfriends get me out dancing and the halters make it look like we've got enough up top to balance them.

And her dad...  Her dad is kind of great!  He's fretting a lot because of the whole going missing thing, but seems really proud of her, and even when he comes home from a long day at the garage smelling like grease, he likes to cook Dunia's favorite foods and ask how my day was, and when I say I've spent the whole day studying, points out that I should have some fun, too.

I've only seen Lambert a couple of times over the past week - I gather that Alicia is the new roommate in an apartment with a few other flight attendants, having just relocated to Miami from New York, and apparently the previous Alicia didn't make a very good impression.  I don't think he's ever had a roommate before.

Anyway, I'm leaving out a lot, I know, and getting into too much in other spots, but I'm about to start my first shift and I'm nervous.  Wish me luck!

-Toby/Dunia

Marc/Dustin: Peace in our time

As you might expect in a house with so many people, not the least of which are three Inn-transformees, there are some pretty complicated interpersonal dynamics at play, and simply navigating them can be exhausting.

Our initial instinct was to stay off the radar while carving out a dynamic that worked for us. John and Mary were bunked downstairs in Cassie's basement bedroom while I was on the top floor in a room of my own.

Unfortunately, questions were being asked about why Dakota was suddenly so distant from Dustin. Personally, I was keeping John at arm's length, giving him space to work out his issues with his wife. I sat next to him at the table for meals, being that he remained my closest ally in the house and someone I have a shared past with (read: scandalous secret.) I figured this would fall under the domain of "nobody's business but ours." So we don't go shopping together? So we don't kiss in public? Who's to say what's right?

Unfortunately, when you're 22 and in a full house, everything is everybody's business. People wanted to know whether we had broken up.

And there was a reason why we couldn't just do the easy thing and say "yes."

Dustin is not very popular here.

Only having been here for a few months, I obviously don't have much first-hand understanding, but I gleaned it almost from the moment I walked in as the girls would mostly give me the cold shoulder when I tried to be cordial and sociable. I chalked that up to "Oh, he's Dakota's boyfriend and they don't want to cross a certain line of appropriateness with him" but the pointedness became undeniable. At some point, the girls of the house -- and PJ -- had enough of this guy. There are guys here too, but mostly as boyfriends, add-ons and transients. It's all the women's names (and PJ's) on the lease. The guys don't really have a say as to who lives here, and Dustin is here on a boyfriend visa. If he and Dakota aren't a couple, there's really no reason for him to be in this house.

Perhaps your next question is -- why do I have to live in the house at all? Wouldn't it be easier if I just excuse myself, let John and Mary live their lives, and find something else to do with myself until it's time to go back to the Inn?

I couldn't agree more, but unfortunately, our lives are slightly more entangled than all that. You see, for the last several months, I've been paying both Cassie's and Dakota's share of the rent out of my own pocket, out of my "war chest." Mary is trying to become more financially independent, working at a restaurant, but is pretty underpaid. I'm not asking her to repay everything she owes me, but she's having a hard enough time getting on her own two feet. John gave it a try too, but wasn't cut out for the service industry. He just gives off this vibe of being "above it" that employers don't seem to like. He worked two shifts with Cassie and washed out, and hasn't been able to get anything else since.

"Sexist," he grumbled, "If I had the same attitude as a man, they'd say I was independent, but because I'm a woman, I'm a bitch."

"Welcome," Mary teased.

Until we can get that straightened out, it doesn't make sense for me to live elsewhere. But what it all amounts to is a few weeks ago, Mary and John sat me down in my (and Dakota's) room, and told me that I was going to have to start getting more lovey-dovey with my "girlfriend."

"We need them to see that you two still care about each other," Mary said, "Holding hands, joking around... touching, laughing... kissing, occasionally," she added, with a bit of queasiness in her voice.

I looked at John, who feigned discomfort, probably for Mary's benefit.

"You can't just force that sort of thing," I protested. "We're... practically strangers..." I stammered over the lie that I had never met John before the Inn.

"That's what we're counting on," Mary said. "You know John's himself inside, but... you never met him. You only know him as Dakota. So why not..." she sighed, "Why not try to forget that isn't all she is?"

My eyes shifted between the two of them. I wasn't entirely sure what they were saying.

"Mary, no matter who this looks like, that's still your husband," I insisted.

"It's more complicated than that, Dustin," Mary said, using my false name, maybe to distance herself from the reality. "We have been at it over and over and over again, and we... we aren't getting anywhere. And we can't keep fighting over how to approach this situation."

I was aware that, behind closed doors, John and Mary were having an understandable difficulty coming to terms with the dynamic. I don't think it was quite the sexy fantasy John was hoping for. And I know it's created some friction. I also know that PJ, who shares a wall with Cassie, has had a lot to say about them disrupting their sleep with their constant muffled bickering.

"I want John to be happy," Mary said, holding her husband's little hand.

"And I want Mary to be happy," John replied in a low murmur, "And she's never going to be happy with me like this."

"So, you're what... giving up?" I balked. I had been through this myself, so I slightly took exception.

"We're hoping we can find our way back to each other," John noted -- a statement that rang falsely to me, the person he once cheated on his wife with. "In another time, when this is all over and we're ourselves... or different people."

"John and Mary love each other," Mary said, resignedly, "But Cassie and Dakota are just friends. Does that make sense?" Having had my mind and body warped multiple times by now, it did, but that didn't mean I didn't sense something else afoot here.

"It's for the best," John shrugged. I glared at him and thought I'm sure it is.

"I'll leave you two to sort some things out," Mary said, wiping her tears away and standing to leave.

Once she was gone, there was a pregnant pause in the air, until I finally asked, "What the fuck, John?"

"It's exactly what we said," he shrugged his little shoulders and flicked a lock of hair away from his face. "We're not meant for each other anymore... right now... what have you."

"You wanted this," I said, accusatorily.

"I wanted resolution," he reasoned, "I wanted a status quo we could all live with. And I didn't want to hurt Mary."

"Well, congrats, she's hurt," I groaned.

"But I didn't hurt her," John noted. "The situation did."

"The situation you organized," I noted.

"Excuse me!" he scoffed, "I didn't sign up to become Dakota and Cassie! I could have easily been anybody walking out of that Inn and the odds were good that she and I would have been people who were meant to be together."

"And the odds were good that you wouldn't," I said, seeing through his convenient plausible deniability. "Either way it's a win, right? A little bit of short-term pain, a few late nights crying into each other's arms, oh, I can't do this, I'm not myself... we're not us anymore... and you get to walk away. I've heard it before."

"And so what?" he put his hands on his hips indignantly, "Is that not legitimate? Do my feelings not matter? Don't you think if I could be sexually attracted to Mary, to Cassie, I would be? She's gorgeous. That's part of a relationship, as far as I'm concerned, and without it, she and I are exactly what these two girls are -- friends. That isn't nothing. It hurts, but it isn't nothing."

"You seem very hurt," I said sarcastically.

"Don't minimize me here," John huffed, "I want what everyone wants, to be happy. To feel love and excitement and cared-for. She's not a saint either! You don't know her, you weren't married to her!"

"Don't make this about her," I said. "You could have divorced her like a normal fucking person," I hissed, trying to keep my voice down in case anyone outside could hear me.

"And if I didn't know about the fucking Inn, I might just have," he said. "Maybe last year, Ryan should have told me to divorce my wife instead of Shanghai-ing me to Maine."

I sunk down. I certainly didn't come into this with clean hands. I made one grave error in judgment and I've paid for it ever since. But I know that at the time John would rather have killed himself than go through a divorce. And most likely, done neither.

Did that make what I did right? And if not, was I responsible for any and all decisions John made since?

John sat next to me on the bed, our thighs touching. I shifted but he still closed the gap.

"Let's focus on us for a second," he said, now fawning, seemingly remorseful that he had taken that last shot. He reached for my hand and I let him take it.

"There isn't an us, not inside this room," I insisted. "I can try to put on an act, and you can vouch for me, but it won't be real, John. I hope you know that. I'm going to sleep on the floor -- one of the advantages of a 22-year-old back."

"Okay," John said, coldly, "But the second I don't need your money, what then? You're out on your ass."

"Believe me, I'll live," I said.

"I'm not your enemy, Marc," he said, activating Dakota's big doelike eyes, "We've had fun together. We understand each other. And with you as Dustin and me as Dakota, we... we're kind of all we've got. I know you're lonely. You're not going to start a relationship with anybody else, because that would upend the real Dustin's life. But that logic won't stop you from finding the next Christine. Why not make the best of the situation? I'm willing if you are."

I looked at him, he fixed me with that glassy, pleading stare. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

His lips curled up in an inviting smile that, in other situations, I might have found very cute. "Tell me you're not a little curious."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Like I said, I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Suit yourself," he sighed.

"If... if... there's to be anything here between us, it will have to develop over time," I said. "Dakota and Dustin may be in love, but John and Marc are just two people trying to navigate an extremely messed-up situation."

He nodded slowly in agreement. "Fair terms, I think."

And that was that. The time since has proceeded exactly as we laid it out. In front of everyone else we're fun, flirty and physical -- I set the limit at three kisses on the lips per day for the benefit of others, and not around Mary if it can be helped. I've also spent a lot of time talking to her, but that's a subject for another post. 

As to what's really going on between John and I, I don't know. I'm just taking it day by day. For now,  we have some semblance of peace... but I do wonder, at what cost?

-Marc/Dustin