Jordan/Yuan-Wei: Back... Home?

Man, am I not sure what to fucking make of the week in New York culminating in Max's wedding after flying up from Krystle's.  Like, I know you can read a lot of worry about how all the Inn stuff affects everything in her posts, but the experience of it, for me at least, was how much a lot of that didn't fucking matter.  Krystle wants to include what to all outside appearances are the parents of a babydaddy who quite notably isn't there?  Friend she really never hung out with that much is important enough to be one of the bridesmaids?  Absolutely random teenage white girl shows up?  Well, Krystle's family and Gabriel's family all start from the premise that these people are important to her and make room.  If there's gossip, it's well hidden.  It wound up being a really loving, accepting atmosphere, and they respected the entirety of what got Krystle and Gabriel there even if they didn't know it.

Back home...  Not quite.

It wasn't a race thing, I don't think, unless highly-assimilated third-generation Chinese Americans are unusually eager not to stand out, which I don't think is really a thing, although, granted, the past week or so has been a pretty shitty time for folks on a tourism visa like me to stand out.

And I get it beyond all that.  Max has gone through the Inn experience, and sometimes it means he gets me and sometimes it means he absolutely cannot understand how I could willingly give Benny my life or stay as Yuan-Wei.  I suspect things getting serious with Dominic kind of rattles him more; it's one thing to make use of your clitoris while you're stuck with it, but something else to put yourself on the wife & mom track Krystle is on. 

(And, yeah, just going with "Krystle" from now on.  She signed papers saying she wanted her name to be Krystle Potts, and who am I to argue?)

Still, I dunno, they could have not sidelined me.  Mom says it would have been easier if Dominic had come so we didn't have to insist, no, I wasn't an ex-girlfriend to Pei Pei and her family. 

On the plus side, I had a lot of time to hang out with Annette, who, as you may have heard, is doing really well, especially considering how volatile the publishing industry is.  She's managing editor of a small imprint, just moved into a bigger apartment, and wants to know all about Dominic because she is very single right now.  She had more restaurants she wanted to show me than I figured I had times free to eat. 

First up was her wanting to know how authentic a Chinese restaurant was (not bad, but honestly fancier than I tend to go for; I like holes in the wall).  She'd found a couple other really nice places, too. 

Thursday's big surprise was that we weren't alone - there were three young women joining us:  Emilia, Katey, and Monica, formerly known as Aidan, Kutter, and Rusty.  Apparently, Annette had seen some anxiety start to build in Katey a couple weeks after she came into her office to say she was staying on, all of her, which makes some sense, because one and a half Inn cycles passing is about when you realize, holy fucking shit, you have made a huge decision that is going to change everything forever that you can't take back.

I didn't have a whole lot of upbeat advice, being a couple of days into my family treating me like a not especially close friend even though they know who I am, but I think I was pretty honestly able to say that they'd push through it, that while the Inn doesn't seem to do much to the part of your brain that makes you good at math or the like, it does appear to reshape the parts that control physical attraction and gender identity, and once you realize your brains are part of your bodies and your bodies aren't things you are in but things you are, you can decide what to do with them.

They're good kids, all three of them, and, yeah, that kind of includes Emilia; she may have 40-odd years of experience but she's got the body language of a freshman that would set off some of my old fraternity brothers' predatory instincts, not quite comfortable in her own skin and always fiddling with her clothes, afraid they're making her look too inviting.  She knows that she's pretty and has a great body but mostly sees it as a target as opposed to a tool she can use.  Good dude, though, and she had questions about what adopting various local teams said about you. 

It's funny how obviously her girls are teenagers once you know their stories, though.  Monica is ready to bust with pride at every bit of responsibility she's shouldered and her jaw drops when you tell her something she feels she should have pieced together herself; Katey has a sort of innocent look that makes the occasional wise-ass comment stand out and has a bit of an attitude about the areas where she knows more than her dad, but she's a good kid at heart. 

Annette apologized for springing them on me when they left, saying Monica especially was curious to meet other folks who had stayed at the Inn while Katey and Emilia were trying pretty hard to act like they were just normal girls. 

Okay, you're all probably thinking, enough fucking sidetracks, what about the wedding?

It was pretty good, actually, once I got over where I wanted to be.  Threat of rain had us moving inside, and sitting on folding chairs rather than pews or benches was kind of odd, but fine.  Mom and Dad found chances to wave and say hi whenever they could, and for as much as part of me resented Pei Pei for taking my brother and family from me, she's pretty and smart (some sort of research scientist), and didn't seem like she had anything against me when we talked to each other.  Which I probably should have expected, instead of just letting my worries about what her being part of the family meant to me.  My kid brother may often be a dumbass in the way kid brothers are, but he's not stupid and our parents would have put their foot down if Pei Pei didn't measure up to their expectations!  We'll probably never be buddies, but she's okay. 

The reception was nice, too, even if I was on the outskirts compared to the test of my family, but that also meant no awkward small talk with Benny, filling out a tux like i never did and living my best life as someone's personal trainer.  Folks did notice the empty seat next to me, but as I told Dominic when I got home, I could have gotten laid a lot of I wanted to, because I fucking rocked my qipao and I'm already a good-looking chick from Hong Kong whose perfect English and job in the movie industry makes me pretty damn fascinating to any single guys in their twenties and thirties (and older in a couple cases), especially with a story about my boyfriend being worried about ICE, which was weighing on a lot of Chinese-American minds that had not forgotten being treated like shit during the pandemic.  Lots of ways to get people's attention.

At some point Kareena came by and asked if we could grab lunch the next day, and I said of course before a second cousin saw us together and remembered that I had been at her wedding to Benny/"Jordan" as well, thinking it was weird that I had been in Kareena's bridal party but now was attending a wedding on this side of the family, and I just sort of shrugged and said I was on the continent and hate to miss a good party before getting dragged onto the dance floor.

Kareena, if you don't remember, was originally my roommate Ravi's girlfriend and arranged fiancée, but while I was Deirdre and Annette was Ravi and Benny was me, she and Benny formed a connection, which is what led me to roll the dice and wind up as Yuan-wei ten years ago.  She's gorgeous and smart and otherwise terrific, way out of my fat, angry old ass's league, and kind of finds the whole Inn scramble romantic and exciting.  I was pretty happy when she texted me a cool spot to meet at the next afternoon, and a bit relieved when she arrived alone, saying Benny was putting in some overtime.

Not that he wasn't going to be part of the conversation; after a bit of catching up and her quizzing me about Dominic, she took a deep breath and laid it out there.  "So...  Benny and I aren't getting any younger, and we've talking about starting a family for a while, but it's kind of weird for us, considering.  Both my parents and yours have been on us about it for a while, with mine shocked I don't have a couple kids already and yours more understanding but still wanting grandchildren.  What do you think about that?"

I sat and thought for a second, not sure I'd really ever considered this possibility, before answering.  "I guess I think it's up to you.  I'm the one that walked away from that life and that DNA so you two could be together, and--"  Something clicked.  "Oh, shit, I've been moaning so much about being pushed aside for the last few days that I never thought of how that might make things easier for you to just get on with your lives!"

She shook her head.  "It doesn't, actually.  Benny - well, Benny's been more self-conscious about being Chinese-American since the pandemic, and he's kind of worried he doesn't have it in him to raise someone else's kid.  He's talked about making the guy who's living his old life an offer to be a sperm donor, and though he's coming around to believing me when I tell him that that would make me feel like we were raising someone else's kid because I love who he is now, body and soul, it feels precarious, you know?"

I kind of did, but still felt confused.  "I get it, but I don't know if there's anything I can do.  Like, it's tough for me to be less threatening on the other side of the world, unless you're telling me you're going to block me on social media and ask my family not to mention me--"

"No!  The opposite!  I need you to be part of this!  I think we all need to remember that we were always going to be an unconventional family and it's okay.  I know things were always going to be weird between you and Benny, but he's going to need to be able to talk to you about what things were like for you growing up and what comes from having Jordan Chang's DNA and that you'll be supportive but have no claim."  She took a breath, embarrassed about the outburst.  "Look, neurology isn't my specialty, and we don't know how that Inn affects people, but lately I sometimes wonder if he's got more of what I think of as the old Jordan in him, especially as you don't seem nearly as insecure as you were as a guy, or maybe it's just the past ten years, but I think he kind of needs your approval."

I leaned my head back as she fidgeted a bit.  "Ugh.  How the fuck am I ever expected to be the mature voice of reason?"  Not the first time I've asked that.  "I mean, obviously I'll support whatever you do.  And for what it's worth, the wedding before this was someone who got knocked up by someone living her original life in a pretty harsh situation, and you'll never see anyone who loves her daughter more.  You'll be okay."

"I hope so."  We stood and hugged, and she said we really should talk more often, even without all the other stuff, and I agreed.

By the time I got on the plane the next day later - with security being really weird, what with all that was in the news over the weekend - and certainly by the time I arrived back in Hong Kong, I wasn't so sure.  Is it selfish to try to maintain these old connections, especially when I've got a pretty good life here, or is it necessary?  I kind of wonder if that week in New York was so stressful in part because I sometimes let my original life stay at the back of my mind for months at a fucking time.  Is this place home now because I can sort of be at ease here without handling multiple sets of expectations?

Also, my being away for two weeks for friends' weddings has apparently led to Dominic thinking things while alone in our bedroom, and, honestly, he had better not fucking propose any time soon because I do not have the mental bandwidth for what our wedding would look like while I'm trying to catch up at work!

-Jordo

Tom/Kiara: Down the Rabbit Hole

I've had a lot of time in the past day to do research... about the Inn, about Kiara, about being in a body that has recently given birth. In the past ~24 hours I've pumped my breasts four times, including right now as I type this, over the hissing strains of the machine. You see, the milk builds up and causes pain and pressure, until you can't ignore it, hence I have no choice but to submit myself to this. It's very strange to feel myself being milked and then see all this stuff coming out of me, but if I don't, then the body might stop producing, and I'd feel weirdly responsible for that even though I haven't even met this baby.

One thing at a time, though.

(If you don't want to hear about this, sorry, but I don't want to be living it either.)

Kind of a shame that as soon as the milk is out, all I can do is dump it, but if recent experience has taught me anything there's plenty more where it came from. (shudder)

Aside from relieving myself a couple of times, which goes about how you would expect (we're all adults with at least a 9th grade understanding of biology, right? No surprises really for this first-timer) that's what the bulk of my experience as Kiara has been. I wore my own ill-fitting clothes to the laundromat because I didn't know where hers had been. I sorted the clothes into "will reluctantly wear" and "would have to be forced to wear," since teenage girls, even ones who have semi-recently given birth, enjoy showing a lot more skin than I do. I then made a trip to Old Navy up in South Portland because her taste in underwear was not what I would call "beginner friendly." (I wore bikini bottoms under jean shorts for the day.) There, I encountered a very, erm, fun, selection of prints and styles.

I'm now wearing her cloth shorts with "my" Kiara!Underwear, and will don her tank top once I can unplug myself. 

In the last day or so, I've learned a lot -- beyond physical stuff. I've gotten access to Kiara's socials. There's a lot on Instagram from prior to and during her pregnancy. I see a happy young girl with lots of friends and an active life: school, activities, parties. The girl in those pictures looks a little different to how I'm used to seeing Kiara -- obviously she's less disheveled, more presentable, wearing makeup and accessories with her hair taken care of. She's also thinner, for obvious reasons, although I wouldn't say that her/my current figure is "fat," just... up a few sizes after giving birth. A little softer, you know? (Holding her clothes against my own reveals a startling size discrepancy that I can hardly fathom in the abstract.) 

Then further down her timeline, there's pregnancy stuff, and then baby stuff and virtually no friends. If I had to guess, her social life probably took a pretty big nosedive once she gave birth, because as I understand it, once you have a baby, that's kind of all you have going on.

I also saw the father, and he looks like a perfect Gen-Z d-bag and I hope I don't have to deal with him very much -- he disappears sometime during the pregnancy posts. No surprise there. There were a few glimpses of family in there too, but nothing that expands on what basic facts were in the note I received.

Regarding the Inn, I've read up a lot on its history, I know more about how it works and/or how it is believed to work. Thank you Art Milligan/Penny, wherever you are. I'm of two minds continuing to post. On the one hand, since I was clearly the target of some kind of nefarious scheme, it might not be safe for me to talk much here. On the other hand, they didn't exactly need me to have any kind of presence on the blog to target me, so what difference does it make? Maybe I'll keep things close to the vest, but it will probably be good to have an outlet where I can sign my own name.

For the time being, here are my objectives:

1. Finish my story. That's still important to me. It's clearly going to take a backseat, but I have a few opportunities still that I can't let slip through my fingers.
2. Learn what I can about the people who did this to me. They have to have figured, I'm not taking this lying down, as powerless as I am.
3. Find the real Kiara. I don't know how she actually feels about this situation, if she wants to go home and be reunited with her family but it behooves me to try to make that possible. Inversely, I've guessing it will be tough to convince the new Tom, whenever he shows up, to play ball, but I have to try.
4. Be the best Kiara I can be. I may hate this body and life but there's a tyke out there who needs a mama and apparently I'm it.
   

Logically, I should probably make haste back to North Carolina since Kiara's family will be expecting her, but she's already been gone so long, and I have a few days left here, I need to make the most of them.

-Tom/Kiara (going to try to get used to that.)

Tom: Male Journalist, 35, transformed into NC Girl by Cursed Inn

I'm sitting here in my gym shorts (drawstring as tight as it will go) cursing the fact that I got played, but in fairness to me, who could have possibly seen "Tricked into having your body stolen" as a possible outcome of all these events? (Other than people who have already been here, thank you very much.)

I knew that my story was goihg to ruffle some feathers, but it appears someone wabts to go to great lengths to get me out of the way. I may not be the smartest Asian guy you've ever met, but I know basic math. One plus one equals two. Inconvenient journalist plus creepy magic inn that transforms people equals not a coincidence.

I think the sensible thing to do would be to cry and shiver with fear but I'm more angry than anything. Maybe that anger is impotent -- what exactly am I supposed to do? -- but it's valid, and it feels better than sniffling helplessly about what's been done to me.

This after I felt I was on the verge of a breakthrough with my source last night. She brought some paperwork with her to dinner that was fixing to point me in the right direction, but wouldn't let me hang onto it. I figured another night of wining and dining would be all it took. I'm worried now she was in on the plot and just stalling.

I woke up to a lot more commotion outside than usual. I tried to ignore it but it wouldn't subside, so I decided to roll out of bed -- but the floor wasn't exactly where it was supposed to be, and the leg of my sweatpants had slipped under my foot, causing me to trip and and roll my ankle. At this point, I was very confused and the room was spinning, but I was starting to notice what was different, namely that my head was surrounded by what appeared to be a lot of frizzy hair.

I had fallen asleep shirtless (pajamas are sort of a waste to pack, don't you think?) and of course the view was... different. I cupped one of my new breasts to confirm -- yes, this is real, and really part of me, and really very sensitive. As my situation dawned on me (Thought one: "Holy crap, this is real!" Thought two: "If so, then what??") I batted some of the hair out of my eyes so I could hobble to the restroom, pulling my sweats up with one hand as I pushed through the door to see a middle-aged lady looking in the mirror with awe. Annoyingly, the bathrooms at this Inn, at least this room, are shared.

She looked me up and down and surmised, "You too, huh?" What gave it away? I wrapped an arm around my chest and hissed, a little un-neighborly, "Do you mind?" She calmly left through the other door and I locked it behind her.

I turned to the mirror and looked at the face of the girl looking back: doll-like button brown eyes, frizzy, rusty-reddish brown hair, pale skin, breasts that were certainly more than a handful for her little mitts, just barely in frame due to her lack of height. She glared back at me with angry intensity under her bushy eyebrows, her jaw jutting outward ruefully.

I started to let it all compute in my head. The Inn's magic is real, obviously. And it's more than likely I was set up -- it's too much of a coincidence that I would end up here of all places. I felt the weight of everything I was working toward crashing down, because if someone could do this, they must have the resources needed to do much more...

I stopped. A flash of a smile crossed my face. It's not like they killed me. Do they need me alive? Or are thry simply not willing to kill? Was this their big move, their only card to play? I scratched my smooth little chin. Maybe the game's not over. Maybe there's hope for old Tom -- or whatever I was called now -- yet.

I was a little flattered that whatever Im doing warrants such attention.

I unlocked the other door and left the restroom, hobbling back to the bed gingerly on my still-aching ankle, increasingly aware of the "el nada" that was in my oversized sweats, and the slight juggle of my unbound breasts.

I crouched down and reached under the bed and heaved the luggage out -- urk, it was heavy, or more likely, I had a lot less upper body strength than I thought I should. On top was a letter in a manila envelope.

Typed, in almost AI-like bland writing. I suspect this person did not write it herself.

It explained that I was now Kiara Simmons, of [interchangeable small town] North Carolina. It left no indication of who Kiara became or how to contact her, which lent credence to my theory that this was a setup. But it contained a few pieces of information that caused whatever relief I was feeling to dissolve back into anger.

One: Kiara is seventeen. They made me a minor, those bastards.

Two: Kiara has a seven-month-old daughter waiting for her back in N.C.

That tidbit caused me to reel backwards on the bed and pull a pillow over my face, which muffled my scream of anguish and also absorbed the tears that my body was producing without my permission. A 17-year-old babymama? Maybe they should have killed me. 

The last line of the note, once I could finally convince myself to finish it? Almost mockingly: "Don't forget to pump."

No wonder the suitcase was so big. It needed room for the apparatus: a breast pump.

It's been an hour now, and I'm starting to notice these things getting really sore. Time to give that manual a look.

Score one for the bad guys.

-Tom... or "Kiara"

Tom: Downtime

I was playing phone tag with my source yesterday and we couldn't make a meeting happen, so I made a command decision to put work aside for a day and try to enjoy myself in this setting. It's a nice little town, the right mix of rustic and touristy.

I ended up meeting a local girl through an app and she was keen to show me around. She was pretty and blonde, a self-described "chubby cutie" who talked about body positivity on her bio, which I thought was cool and possibly designed to weed out jerks... if they bother reading.

She suggested a lobster place, which I was all for. Ever the interviewer, I asked her about growing up here, etc etc. She talked about how much she loved the water and scenery. It was a cool night -- the weather somewhat dampening the beachy fun I was hoping for -- so we hit another bar and downed a few and played some darts. We found ourselves getting closer and closer, seemingly building up to something, so I shot my shot and asked if she wanted to come back to the Inn. She agreed since she has a light-sleeping roommate, and as soon as we were out the door we were kissing like a couple of teens.

We began to walk, arm in arm in the chilly air, but after a while she realized where we were going and kind of stepped back and said "Oh. There's a lot of superstition around that place, it really creeps people out." I said I could see why but it was really not so bad.

I couldn't change her mind and the mood kind of changed from that point -- she just said she'd message me hopefully before I leave, but her week was looking busy, etc etc, and I said hey, don't worry about it.

Now it's dreary out -- a reminder I'm here for business, not pleasure... but man, wouldn't it be nice to have both?

-Tom

Tom: Changed!!!

Oh no guys! I woke up this morning and I had turned into an absolutely gorgeous blonde with big tits! What will I do now that everyone wants me?

Too on-the-nose? My creative writing teacher always said I was well-suited for journalism, based on how much imagination I have. Harsh... not wrong, but harsh. No, I'm still me, dark hair, brown eyes, pudgier than I was five years ago, but hey, beauty's on the inside.

Thinking back to that prompt from yesterday, I got stuck on "how I got here" which can really be interpreted a number of different ways... what train did you take, how did you hear about the place, what's your business here... what about every decision you have made in your life?

When I was a kid, we were asked to do a presentation on our grandparents for class. That was the first time I heard about Manzanar, about the way my grandparents were treated during World War II. I thought it was fascinating, but I was still a little bit young to understand the dark implications. All I know is that when I told the story in Grampa's own words, it made a room full of (mostly white) people very uncomfortable. That was the beginning of my realizing that the truth and the written word can be powerful things, which ultimately led me from Denver, where I had grown up, to Northwestern for Journalism, to my adult career.

Twenty-some years later, Ojisan and Obachan are no longer with us, but their stories stuck with me, and I understand it a lot better now than I did when I was thirteen. No, I did not become the Japanese Bob Woodward (which, given Bob's work lately, maybe that's a good thing) ... for a long time I was toiling away in trade mags, like most J-School grads, covering the tech beat, until I decided it was time to level up or get out of the grind once and for all. At my lowest, I was doing a lot of "Why you need the iPhone 11 Pro Max" pieces that were basically unofficial marketing. Sometime during the pandemic I decided I wanted to be a real boy journalist again and started seeking bigger assignments.

Which is how I got here. I've turned from someone who was just sort of adrift to something of a workaholic. It's cost me at least one promising relationship (with, yes, a pretty white girl... your boy has a type) but I don't regret it. I finally feel like I've got purpose.

The person I interviewed yesterday was a personal acquaintance of a high-ranking tech exec, someone who is supposed to have some dirt on them and the whole company, which I'm hoping will be the stick to drop this whole game of kerplunk into place. But over dinner she was dodgy, dare I say paranoid, still not wanting to spill her guts. Okay, I can play the game. I know better than to pressure a source. I wanted to make her feel at ease, like she was with a friend. I agreed not to talk about it for the rest of the night. Instead we went to a bar and went dancing. (This job has perks sometimes.)

The source and I parted ways a little after midnight as I walked her back to her hotel. When I got to the Inn, I spent a little bit more time chuckling over some of the stuff that's been posted on this blog. Okay, if you want to do your little fiction game, I won't spoil the fun, there's something so charming about co-opting a half-assed customer service program like this into something insane and elaborate like that. It's fun to watch people come together to make it feel real. I'm only posting here because it helps me blow off steam.

That said... I looked around my room and I did see a suitcase under the bed that does not belong to me. This is where I draw the line. Fun is fun but...

-Tom N. (seriously)

Tom: Chasing Sources

Damn my millennial soul. I see a weathered old piece of paper indicating that there is a blog for guests of this creaky old inn, and my first thought is that I have to participate. Complete with prompts about who I am and what brings me here. It's like one of those old chain emails my friends used to pass around in middle school.

The name's Tom Nishimura, and I have come to this delightfully rustic slice of beachfront -- er, beach-adjacent... er, beach-seriously it's not that far of a walk property on business. I'm a journalist, and I've come up from D.C. to meet with a source. What could someone squatting in some one-horse hamlet in Maine have to say about national politics? Well... I'm trying to decide how much I can get away with telling you. There's a few people out there who probably want this story killed.

And before you ask, no, it's not going to be the story that finally takes down Trump. I try to stay far away from that mess (inasmuch as anybody can these days.) In fact, I don't even normally write about politics. My usual beat is tech. The best I can offer is slightly upsetting some CEOs and shareholders, but that doesn't mean the truth isn't important.

Put it this way: How much do you know about your smartphone: what's inside it and where it came from? Would it surprise you to know that there's some really shady stuff going on in the supply chain for rare Earth minerals? (With a slug like that, who could resist? Luckily, I had an editor who feels that way.)

What was fixing to be a rather tedious story has admittedly become a little bit more interesting due to the difficulty I've had tracking down sources. Luckily, I'm pretty resourceful on that front, and I think I've found someone who will be willing to talk. 

Well, on that tease, I'm going to prep for my interview and then find some way to relax. Who knows, maybe I'll read some of the (eyes pop) nineteen years??! of backlogged posts on this blog.

Why in the hell is this summer getaway's blog so active year-round? And why do all the correspondents have two names? Journalistic curiosity: piqued.

-Tom N.

Ande: Staying put for the summer

I'm pretty sure that there have been moving trucks parked somewhere on my street constantly for the past two weeks.  The profs and TAs make jokes about September 1st being Moving Day because every lease in the Boston area runs from September to August to accommodate the schools, but between all the graduations and folks going from closing dorms to sublets for summer programs, there are a whole lot of folks packing and unpacking right now.

I'm not among them, though - the rent's got to be paid through the summer, and the parents of the guy who left during Christmas break aren't going to be paying his part any more, so I don't have the luxury of working a part-time job with the idea of making spending money this year.  Or necessarily going home, because you don't necessarily make Boston rent money working the same job back there. 

Anyway, to make it a relevant-to-this-blog thing, it kind of got me thinking about how maybe I've left home for good and only realized it afterward in the same way I stopped being a girl for good a few years back but wouldn't really know until a year or so later.  I left home back in the fall thinking I was just going to school, and home would still be home, but it's entirely possible that I've had my last extended period in my own room, and that the house where I grew up was now a place I would just visit as opposed to a place where I lived, barring an extended period of not being able to find a job post-graduation.  It feels like a decision i should have made deliberately.

Mom and Dad think it's good that I didn't, that it would have been another moment that would have made them cry.  Andie thinks I'm being silly, but she's moved back home for the summer and may actually wind up commuting next fall.  Griff and Lindy nodded for a second, not having thought of it that way.

On the other hand, it's kind of nice.  I feel like I've slowly spent the past year and a half making this life mine, after coming east to attend the school Andie chose, and if it's not my original plan, I'm mostly still doing what I want, without looking over my shoulder to see if Andie or my folks approve.  I'm not doing anything weird or dangerous, but it's been months since I wondered if I was doing something out of character, and even if I love my parents and brother-turned-sister, sometimes just having them around makes me ask the question.

That said - it was hot as shit yesterday, and I still don't really have a handle on when a guy can go shirtless in the middle of the city.  Hildy looked way more comfortable in her halter and booty shorts than I did in my t-shirt and cargo shorts!

-Ande

Krystle Marie Kamen Potts, née Jonah Glass

As a teenage boy, I used to roll my eyes at women talking about their weddings being the best days of their lives, but oh my god, they might have been onto something.  I mean, the day my daughter was born is right up there, but that hurt!

Like I said yesterday, I was up early, because if a regular woman has regular wedding day jitters, I was tripling down with how this is a day when people might believe the story of the Inn even without a seemingly-friendly Mackenzie there.  Then I made a coffee because edgy isn't exactly the same thing as energetic, and, oh boy, I was wired when everybody - Momma Kamen, the bridesmaids, Little Moira, the wedding planner - showed up.

Because imagine every joke about waiting for a girl to get ready before a date, and then being thrown into a situation where they're not only real, but they don't go half far enough, because not only is this the date, but you're a gym girl who can do casually sexy but has to take advice from everybody else about "pretty".  So I'm trying to brush the perm I got Thursday back into shape and Karla is like girl, come on, you know you're going to need product for that, and then I'm sitting still so she can put it in and do whatever she does to give it body while Momma Kamen is exfoliating my feet because I'm gonna be barefoot at some point and it wouldn't do to be the slightest bit ashy.  Once that's done, folks are painting my nails white to match my dress, really concentrating so it looks perfect, which makes me feel kind of silly because I'm wearing the camisole and pajama shorts I put on after I showered.

Then the dress.  Did I mention there's a corset?  There's a corset.  Unlike the first dress I tried with one, it's not the torture device guys tend to think it is - it's just a way to get your boobs riding high, and if it hurts it's too tight - but the first time someone tightens those laces it's like, damn, what did I get myself into?  There's garters and stockings and tiny little buttons on the back, and it's all made of lace, so you feel like any sort of movement will tear it.  I'm sure folks who were born ladies will laugh, saying it's tougher than it looks, but it's also pure white, which means you're afraid to touch anything, including the daughter whose namesake decided to give her chocolate when she was saying she was bored and hungry!

Then there's makeup, and I don't know about anyone else, but sitting still while someone fusses about your face or tells you to close your eyes so they can paint the lids blue feels unnatural, especially when it's being done by a "sister" who has issues with her sibling that extend long past the point where you became that sibling.  Somehow, during all this, all my friends and family have changed into their own fancy dresses which are not nearly so complicated.  Jordan puts my four-inch heels on my feet, and I kind of wobble as I stand up, because even though I've gotten to the point where heels don't embarrass me very often, but I'm still pretty wary about a whole day in them. 

I gasp when I finally looked in the mirror.  I looked amazing, the absolute best version of Krystle Kamen, and after the previous night, I didn't feel terribly guilty saying that, and not just because it was an army of women getting me glammed up.  Even the parts that were unmistakably me, the climber's arms and legs that I sometimes feel make me look mannish, just seemed like the way they were supposed to be. 

Moira agreed.  "You look so pretty, mommy!"

Jordan leaned in.  "Kind of defies belief sometimes, doesn't it?"

I nodded, and we got in the limo.  I barely had time to enjoy that I was in a limousine before we got to the church and were ushered into a side room. 

My father was waiting there; with Krystle's out of the picture, Momma Kamen had agreed to let him give me away.  I'd initially kind of bristled at the idea of being "given away", and not just for feminist "I'm not property" or Inn-girl "I'm really a man" reasons. I'd struck out on my own to make a life for myself years ago, and wasn't moving from my father's house to my husband's.  On the other hand, it was a way to involve my dad, whose eyes bugged when he saw me. 

"My God."

"I know!  It's crazy!  But here we are!"

"Here we are."  He stiffly offered an arm, and I pulled my veil down before taking it.

The organ started, and my bridesmaids filled out after Gabriel's little cousins who were serving as ring beater and flower girl.  They paired off with the groomsmen, except for Little Moira, who I gather was a little ham, directing her glance all over the church and waving at everyone she knew.

Then the music changed and it was our turn.  The aisle seemed miles long with everyone looking at us, and I did almost stumble a couple times.  As I mentioned last week, there were a lot more of Gabe's folks in the church than mine, which did maybe make me feel a bit more like I was being "given away".  Eventually, we got to the altar, and my dad presented me to Gabe, saying he couldn't have any idea what "this girl" meant to him, before going back a couple rows to sit with Mom. 

I'd meet the minister a couple days earlier, and he was a nice older man, formally retired a couple years ago but occasionally officiating for folks like Gabe who had attended his church when they were younger but who didn't have any connection to his replacement.  He didn't make me feel diminished or like an interloper, which I would occasionally see happen in our church back home. Our vows were pretty close to the standard (no "obey"); I had made a go at writing my own but as you might imagine, I always felt like I was leaving important pieces out when telling our love story.  Even saying we re-connected during the pandemic when others were coming apart seemed like too big a lie to speak in church, to me. 

At last the "I Do" bit came and I said it with surprisingly little hesitation.  When he slipped the wedding band onto my finger, it felt different from the engagement ring, a tiny handshake that doesn't let go rather than a weight.  I'd wear jewelry more often if it felt like that. 

Then came "You may kiss the bride", and, folks, have you ever been kissed on the mouth in a spot made for everyone to be looking at you?  Not just in public where you don't care if people see you, but where people seeing you is the whole point?  It's pretty heady; I don't think I even heard everyone cheering and stomping their feet until I came up for air! 

There were pictures, then, and then the reception, and I've got to admit, last night is sort of a blur.  Gabe's best man made a really nice speech, and Karla did not feel the need to list all the ways this life had been self-sabotaged before I inherited it, which was nice for Mackenzie, I imagine.  Gabe did wonder who the white girl in Dominic's seat was, and I don't even remember what sort of explanation I gave.  His cousins liked her, though, especially when they discovered the redhead could dance. 

So much dancing!  One of the groomsmen said I had dancers' legs from all my time in the gym, but even those start to get sore after a couple of hours where everyone wants to dance with the bride.  It went on well past my daughter being ready to drop, but apparently the kids being brought up to their rooms and being put to bed is the point where everyone can leave their heels on their seats and bop around in stockings or bare feet. 

Eventually, even Mackenzie and Gabe's best man were ready to give up.  Gabe came to the bridal site with me and waited on the bed while I touched up my makeup and got out of my dress to reveal the lingerie underneath.  I walked out to display myself to him and he gave a big, relaxed smile.  I crawled on top of him and we started undressing each other, kissing and caressing until we were making love. 

I'm pretty sure I haven't had sex without a condom since that first time - immediately getting pregnant while you still think of yourself as a guy makes an impression! - and while it wasn't night and day, it felt a bit different, especially when we came and I could really feel it inside.  It felt so good, and it just generally feels good to feel safe doing it because I trust him to be there for me no matter what.

After that, we slept practically until check-out time, barely having time to dress (in t-shirt, yoga pants, and slip-on sneakers) and pack before heading down for brunch.  That was nice, but chaotic, though it was kind of nice that it was mostly my friends and family, since they were in the hotel and Gabe's folks were all home or at church.  That meant there was some of what Zee might call "Inn-uendo" floating around, but not too much - Mom and Dad really aren't great with being reminded that Jordan was also a guy once upon a time, and Mackenzie flew home without saying goodbye - and it was fun to kind of hold court for a while, saying hi to everyone before they got on their flights and headed home or, like Jordan and Momma Kamen and us, to their next stops.

Indeed, I'm writing this from mid-air, on our way to our honeymoon in Cape Verde!  Gabe's made a plan for being up and on the right time when we arrive that involves sleeping pills and caffeine, and maybe it will work, but Jordan's got more experience with international travel and she says to power through until you are exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as your head hits a pillow at 10pm local time and then wake up refreshed at a reasonable hour the next day.  Momma Kamen will be staying at the house and making sure Moira gets to school for a week, probably spoiling her rotten, but I'm really looking forward to just being with Gabe for that time.

-Krystle Marie Kamen Potts!

Jonah/Krystle: Unexpected Guest

Well, that was unexpected. 

There was a rehearsal dinner last night, which is a tradition that gets kind of weirder the more you think about it, because at some point it was probably the first time the two families met and they were feeling each other out, but, you know. pleasant enough.  My parents weren't there, just Momma Kamen, and that felt kind of wrong, but they told be a few weeks ago not to worry about this, although I still did.  It ended with us being told to rest up and we mostly did, though Jordan and Moira chose to hang around the hotel bar.

I had one drink with them after sending Little Moira upstairs with Karla and her kids - she was really excited to see her cousins and they were having a kind of slumber party - and when I was headed up myself, I caught some hotel employees trying to rouse a girl who had fallen asleep in one of the chairs in the lobby.  I was about to turn away, minding my own business, when something clicked and I ran over.  I motioned for them to stand back and then whispered "it's Krystle" in her ear.

She bolted upright, pushing her red hair back from the front of her face, and shook her head looking at me.  "This is still so weird!"

I nodded.  "Sure is, Mackenzie.  What are you doing here?"

"Not causing trouble, I promise!  I, uh..."  She looked at the other folks around us and I shooed them away, which made her a lot less tense.  "Okay, I, um, was trying to pay attention in class today, like, really trying, to distract myself, and after second period I decided I just couldn't do it, and called Cory to tell him I had to get down here, just to be here and see it and wish you well.  Mackenzie's too young to rent a car or even buy train tickets, but it turns out it's not just faster but way cheaper to fly from Portland to Atlanta, so Cory got me on the last seat on the plane."

"And you found my hotel how?"

"Cory called Zee who called Ashlyn who knew where Moira was staying.  She wasn't sure about telling him, but since I was already on my way..."  She half-smiled.  "It sounds absolutely insane, I know, but how could I not be at my own wedding?"

I had a funny feeling looking at her just then.  Inside, I know Mackenzie, the original Krystle, is the exact age I appear to be, obviously, while I often think of myself as the teenager i was when I checked into the Inn.  At that moment, though, she seemed genuinely 17, and it was my responsibility as a more mature adult to understand the big emotions she was feeling, and to give her some grace. 

So I did.  "I'd actually be really glad to have you there.  After all, even if you barely remember Gabe, I probably don't meet him without him remembering you."

She smirked.  "You owe me so much."

"I really do.  Can I start with dinner?  Or a room?  You weren't planning to hang around the lobby all night were you?"

She shook her head.  "Da-- Cory booked me a room here too, but--"  Her stomach growls on cue.  "Maybe a snack."

We got some calamari for her and a white wine for me, and then found it awkward at the table, so we wound up texting across from each other.  Initially I was telling Jordan not to look in an obvious way but that Mackenzie was at the table with me, and would she make sure she got to the right place the next morning?  Also, if Dominic wasn't coming, was it okay if she took his place at the reception?  When she said yes, I sent texts to the wedding planner about the change.  Eventually, though, we found few folks up that late, and just kind of staring at each other.

She chuckled when she noticed my breasts resting on the table a bit as I leaned forward.  "You know, it's been so long I can barely remember what it was like lugging that rack around.  Like, I was happy when my boobs finally came in, and jealous of some of the girls who got bigger, but I kind of love dancing more now that it's not all about them swinging around and guys staring at them.  Is that weird?"

"Nah.  I mean, I kind of hated them until I was nursing Moira and they finally seemed useful rather than just in the way.  Although, man, when they were pregnancy/nursing-sized... Ugh!"  We laughed as I sat back up straight.  "Okay, if we're going to talk about this stuff...  What's it like being white?"

She blushed a bit, then started nervously twirling a bit of hair.  "It's weird.  Like, you've had to deal with how I didn't finish high school, and I kind of brought the same attitude the second time around, but people didn't give up on me.  I don't know how much of that is a better-funded school and how much of it is people seeing me as having potential rather than being a lost cause.  It's not easy or anything, because people shit on girls and foster kids and it's not like Cory is rich enough that I can have everything my classmates do, but I kind of feel like I'm fighting one less thing."  She shrugged.  "It's not like I'm some sort of big Swiftie or anything, though.  Might be easier if I was, because liking the music and movies I like and doing hip-hop dance marks me too.  And sometimes I forget that this isn't what I grew up thinking of as normal, the first time.  At least until the crazy-hot guy on the basketball team doesn't even think redheads are cute!"

She yawned then, and stood.  "Well, I guess we should get to bed.  You've got a busy day tomorrow!"

I nodded and rode the elevator with her awkwardly, getting off first.  I have to admit, I gave myself a closer look than usual as I undressed and did my evening skin-care routine, wondering if she'd seen anything that she decided she didn't want back from how civil and friendly that had all been.  Or maybe we'd just both been who we were for long enough that being someone else felt like a lot of effort.

I slept pretty fitfully, which is why I'm up and at my laptop so early.  But I think that's just wedding-day jitters - "I dos" are only a few hours away, and I'm probably going to spend most of that time getting ready.

-Jonah/Krystle

(Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, she's asked me to call her Mackenzie when I talk about her, even though I try to use everyone's original given names and like that Jordan writes about me as "Jonah".  She says she doesn't want me to doubt myself, and certainly seems sincere enough about that.)

Jordan/Yuan-Wei: My First Real Bachelorette Party

STOP READING OVER MY SHOULDER, JONAH, OR DO YOU WANT TO EXPLAIN WHAT I'M WRITING TO THE NORMIES?

I'm just going to leave that up there, because I'm writing this on the bus that's taking the bridesmaids from New Orleans to Atlanta, including the adorable junior bridesmaid.  She's probably the one I have to worry about snooping the most, but I'm sure Jonah will tell little Moira not to bother Auntie Jordan if she tries to stand on her seat and read over my shoulder. 

"Auntie Jordan".  I do not feel old enough to be an auntie, even acknowledging that becoming Yuan-Wei made me physically younger by a few years.  And on top of that, should I be this kid's auntie?  Am if really that close to her mother? 

I mean, even when we both lived in the same city, we didn't hang out a lot.  I was a well-off college girl and she was working the service economy, and even when you feel you're not supposed to be on those positions, you don't form friendships along those lines.  Heck, when or paths crossed at the Inn, I made fun of him. I basically hired him/her to housesit while I was on a trip, was all.  We were kind of allies more than friends, really. 

But a funny thing happens when you move to the other side of the fucking world (or country) and there's nobody else to talk to about this big, weird thing in your life which keeps being weird even though you should have gotten used to it.  Those messages become a lifeline and I probably tell Jonah more than I do Annette or my brother Max, even though they've been through it.  They've gone back to things being normal, mostly, but we're fellow long-haulers, sharing something others can only half-understand.  We're gonna want each other right at hand for stuff like this. 

Of course, I say that like yesterday was some sort of fucking hassle rather than a blast. 

It was a long flight from Hong Kong to NOLA, but I flew first class (I don't throw money around much, but definitely do for that), and the folks at the airport were only a little racist and willing enough to believe that being from Hong Kong was different than being from China (it is and it isn't these days).  Nice rideshare to the hotel to drop luggage off because I was there before check-in time and then to Jonah's place, and a big hug when I got there.  I was first, but just barely, and Moira and Karla arrived on the same plane soon after.

This isn't my first bachelorette party.  Aside from the one for Chen-Ai/Bingbing that played like a weird celebration of things she'd acquired to me, and new-Chen-Ai's which was a small affair most notable for he announcing her new English name, I've been invited along with a couple friends and co-workers since settling here.  But the vibe was different from the get-go.  Jonah and I had a little time to gush like teenage girls about how happy we were and how strange it was that it was happening this way before the Boston contingent arrived, and then it was fun as we pulled out our party dresses and did each other's hair and makeup (I had never realized just how much white and black people could find themselves envying my hair!) and got ready to go out for dinner.

I forget exactly where we went for dinner - Jonah says it's almost impossible to have a bad meal here - but I had red beans & rice with alligator sausage and loved it.  It's definitely local, but also feels a lot like the Chinese-American fare that I grew up on and which kind of horrifies Chinese folks who visit America, although the five is also Hong Kong, straightforward meals with basic ingredients and no shame that you're fuckin' wolfin' it down.

The conversation over the meal was really fun, too, because while we've all met on one occasion or another, what we've got in common is that we know and love "Krystle", and while Moira is the one who has the most stories - sure, Karla does, but Jonah is often laughing like they're all new to her, and they may be - and we've all seen her when she wasn't sure of herself and are all impressed at the person she's grown into.  We wind up having more in common than we think at times, too - both Moira and I can talk about coming to new countries where we speak the language and mostly know the culture but finding it daunting, and I had no idea that Karla was a big manga & anime fan who had just been doing some sort of matching cosplay with her oldest at Anime Boston the weekend before.

After that, there was music, and bars, and more music and bars as we went up and down Bourbon Street like complete fucking clichés, including late-night beignets because Krystle said we had to do it.  We sang and had random folks toast  "Krystle" and had a bunch of people say we looked sexy and, hey, we weren't the ones getting married, so could they buy us drinks?

Nothing happened, of course, and the folks at the hotel's front desk apparently have beaucoup experience checking folks who dropped their luggage off fifteen hours earlier in after midnight.

The alarm came much too early in the morning, it seemed, but either Jonah or Karla had anticipated the condition we'd be in and booked a minibus and a driver to get us from New Orleans to Atlanta where everybody but me and Little Moira would be meeting our boyfriends, because Dominic ultimately decided he wasn't making a trip to America under the current conditions.  It's about seven hours, which isn't too bad considering airport nonsense and other things like us being hungover enough to mess up all sorts of things.

Which brings us up to now, somewhere in Alabama.

-Jordo

Emilia: And I Guess That's That

Just got confirmation - the folks living our old lives did not return to the Inn, but folks changed, so now they've got another set of new people in their lives and we can't go back to become ourselves again.  Me and my sons Kutter and Rusty are going to be Emilia, Katey, and Monica for good, or at least as much as anything can be "for good" with unexplained phenomena out there that can change every aspect of your life.  The kids and I are all kind of terrified, but there's a kind of relief in only having to worry about one life again.

Up until the last minute, I didn't think it would turn out like this.  Annette and others warned us things go wrong fairly often:  She says she knows through her friend Jordan that there are people out there who think the Inn has a purpose and that purpose is to mix people up, injecting new perspectives into different parts of society to hopefully break down barriers, and they maybe try to keep that happening.  They aren't really that effective, most of the time, and she thinks it's more like that whatever spell or curse is on the Inn was originally trying to fill a hole but is in a constant state of turning around, seeing that the dirt they used to fill that hole has created another hole, and then trying to fill that.  But, as she pointed out, we were in an uncommonly good position - we could get to the Inn and if anything looked off, we could just walk away, knowing we could handle these lives and nobody was coming back for them.

It didn't get that far, though.  The three of us all talked to our counterparts in our old lives after the talk, and just like the kids, they all felt like they could not just make do in their new lives, but thrive, once they realized that nobody was counting on them going back.  For new-Aidan's kids and mine, the past year was such a huge part of their lives and memories that going back might be stranger than staying put, and she felt like she had more regrets and things holding her down in her real life than as me.  Once we knew that they would take care of our old identities, rather than random people skipping in and out, it felt easier to stay these girls.

And I soon realized that's where the kids' heads were at, and it was me who had to adjust my thinking.  I knew that they could readjust, just from how well they adapted to being Monica and Katey; kids are adaptable and their generation seems to be more flexible in terms of identity than mine was.  They at least have the vocabulary for it and often examples in their own lives of people who are different, more than I did at their age.  Kutter and Rusty have had that flexibility tested more than most, but they've been able to accept their situations as they were rather than just rejecting them.  Even though they are still my sons when we're at home, they are not pretending outside of it, but just living the lives they have.

I needed to stop looking at them just as the boys they should be, or the men they could be, but the women that they are.  And they're incredible.  If I had always had daughters like Katey and Monica, I would be so proud of them, and I'd want to see them continue to pursue what they love, and trust them to know who they are.

So we're going to do that.  I'm still very nervous about it, because even if they have the bodies of 23-year-old women, they are still only 16 and 17.  I can tell myself that the teenager as something distinct from adults and children is a relatively modern invention, that a hundred years ago they would be considered adults, and that we still kind of glorify boys that age who lied about being older to serve their country or are otherwise whiz kids who dropped out of college or even high school to get a head start on their ambitions, but they are still probably going to be naive and inexperienced relative to their peers in many areas.  

They're going to need a big sister as much as a father, and so as a father, it's my duty to be that big sister.  So that's where I'm focusing my attention, making sure that Emilia is the most supportive sister and best friend that Katey and Monica can have.  I'm also going to try to be the best Emilia I can be, because if I do my job supporting the kids (bear with me, I can't quite call them just "roommates" yet), they're going to build lives of their own and I'll have to do the same.  I've got a full life as Emilia ahead of me, probably more time than I've had as Aidan by the time I reach its end.

I'm not even going to try to be the Emilia I see in her old social media, super outgoing and feminine, playfully posting pictures in swimsuits and microskirts.  I'll probably a dork who likes things that were before my time, prefers beer to cocktails, gets season tickets to the Mets or the Yankees when I can afford it, and a bunch of other male-coded stuff, and enters into relationships with men very tentatively, at least at first (although I still have a hard time seeing that changing).

But I'm also going to try to do that on my own, just being the Emilia that comes naturally, as opposed to worrying about being an "Inn Person", or looking over my shoulder to see if I'm doing it right, so this is my last post on this blog, barring emergency.  I want to thank everyone who has given me advice and encouragement along this journey, and for everyone else in this situation, I hope that we all find a way to be able to live and thrive as ourselves, whether that's our original lives or who fate allows us to become.

-Emilia

Jonah/Krystle: T Minus Eight Days

I'm getting married next week.  To a man.  It's absolutely insane, when you think about it. 

On the other hand, it's crazy how not insane it is.  I thought that I would be back to posting here weekly with all sorts of "all these weird girl things around the wedding are crazy and I haven't felt more like I shouldn't be here since I pushed a baby out of my body" rants, but it hadn't worked out that way.  Probably not because I've become a woman all the way down to whatever deep, feminine part of the brain yearns for pretty dresses and professions of undying love, but because we appear to have hired a pretty good wedding planner.  She knows her job and neither Gabe nor I have much on the way of bridezilla (or groomzilla) tendencies.  She'd give us a list of options, we'd look them up on Yelp, and if we didn't immediately agree, and one of us had a reason to care - like, say, better vegan options for Gabe's cousin - it seldom ran up against issues for the other.  Heck, I even came to kind of enjoy the dress fittings.  Sure, some of it was boring enough that I occasionally wished they had ESPN on like they do at Gabe's barber shop (or even Lifetime), but having a dedicated specialist make sure I'm the most beautiful I can be is kind of nice, especially if you grew up a guy and can be uncertain about this topic rather than a girl who has been obsessing over her wedding being perfect since she was a 4-year-old flower girl. 

I guess what I'm saying, Inn girls, is to outsource this stuff whenever you can! 

Even if I was more lost at sea amid all the preparations, though, I probably wouldn't have had time to write about it.  It seems like every time I take a couple days of time off, I've got to train some assistant manager to handle all of the stuff that I typically do, Moira decided she wants to do youth basketball, and Gabe has been all over, asking how he can help with everything and extra amorous with the wedding approaching, which is great, but doesn't give me a lot of alone time.  Maybe that's for the best - married couples are gonna be up in each other's business - but I am already kind of enjoying this long weekend where he's in New York with his friends for the bachelor party. 

My biggest hassle right now is the bachelorette party.  I know, it's usually the Maid or Matron of Honor's job, but when considering the choice between Boston, Atlanta, and New Orleans for any sort of party, let alone one for an ethnically mixed group, NOLA was the clear winner.  Atlanta may be very nice, but none of us really know the place, and I can at least bike by places Karla finds here to scope them out. 

Yes, Karla is Matron of Honor, in part because I wasn't sure Jordan or Original Moira would be able to make it and I didn't want to do "instead of your sister?" stuff.  We've been getting along well lately, at least, although I'm kind of alarmed by how sparsely populated my side of the church will be compared to Gabe's.  Shouldn't I have more friends?  I'm a nice person!  But, then, I'm also a technically-still-single mom who has moved a couple of times.  I've got coworkers and maintain good relations with Moira's friends' parents, and they'd go to my wedding if it was local, but not to Atlanta.  Gabe's got a bunch of friends from high school and college coming, but apparently a lot of Krystle's high school friends are holding grudges and mine are white folks five years younger than the age on my new passport who would be difficult to explain.  I sent save-the-dates to them all anyway, figuring we could say they were friends of Jonah's (true!) that were more help when I was pregnant and a new mom than my baby daddy (an exceptionally low bar!), but even the ones who texted me back saying they were excited and happy for me (mostly girls) had long put even thinking about the cursed Inn behind them.  Maybe being married will lead to couple friendships, or I'll just stop worrying about it again once this isn't staring me in the face any more.

Of course, the one person who didn't RSVP at all is the one that's been the central figure in my most frequent nightmare of late.  That'd be Joseph, my roommate at the Inn who got changed into Krystle's boyfriend Lamont and wound up serving the rest of his sentence.  Of you remember, he got really upset when I showed up dressed nice because I figured he might enjoy a night out with a pretty girl when he was released, and really freaked out when I discovered I was pregnant.  In my nightmare, the wedding is going well, until he bursts in at the "should anyone have any reason" moment, announces that I'm really a man, and because it's a life-changing moment, everyone believes him, and it turns out that Gabe, his while family, Moira, and everyone is way more homophobic than I thought and turn on me.  I wake up on a cold sweat and tell Gabe I don't remember my dreams. 

But I do, every one of them.  There are a ton where we for some reason book the Inn (or someplace similarly cursed) for it honeymoon and most of the time I wake up as my old self and he's Krystle, or some other woman, and that can go either way but is usually kind of fun, but one time I woke up as Mackenzie and he was this giant roided-up version of himself with the intention of punishing me for stealing Krystle's life and lying to him, and I'm glad I woke up before the worst.  One time it was months later, and he was still a man, but I somehow got him pregnant on the honeymoon! 

I'm not reading anything into it, other than the Inn giving my subconscious more to work with when anybody would be having stress dreams.  It's gonna be great!

But, yeah, even with a good planner, I'm really expecting after the wedding to be much better than these weeks before it.

- Jonah/Krystle

Aidan/Emilia: The Talk

Even before typing out that last entry, I taped notes saying "Family Meeting Wednesday Evening - Very Important!" to the kids' bedroom doors, pre-ordered some pizza, and then went into my bedroom to write something and wound up asleep fairly soon after.  I had an early shift at the bookstore, anyway, with a little bit of time to buy some extra soda after work.  The kids arrived back from work at around 5:30, and asked what was up.

I felt like I should have a presentation ready, but it hadn't seemed appropriate the night before.  "Okay.  As you guys know, our reservation at the Inn starts on the 5th of June, just a little more than two weeks from now.  New-us will be arriving there Saturday morning, which is a risk, but they're trying to minimize you guys having much to make up in the last few days of the school year after their 'family emergency'.  Have they been sending you classwork to catch up with?"  They nodded; as I kind of expected, Kutter was nodding along more with the details.

"Okay, so, that leaves a question of what we do.  I'm working two jobs part time, so I can probably say that I've got a family emergency back home and they'll either say they're sorry to lose me or ask me to say when I'm back.  You two, though..."

Rusty groaned.  "Ugh, I can't wait to get home, but i kind of hate the idea of quitting.  Seems like that's what makes sense, though."

Kutter nodded.  "Yeah, the folks in the office are going to think it's weird if I quit, especially if the new Katey sticks around the city but doesn't find something soon, but I've really only got enough PTO to get through us staying at the Inn, let alone for the person who turns into Katey--"

Rusty rolled her eyes.  "You've got a chart, don't you?"

"It's a perfectly reasonable thing to figure out!"

I held up a hand to keep this from going further.  "I'm glad you guys decided this on your own, because, obviously, I can't really tell you to quit your jobs."  There was an awkward silence as I decided whether I should just stop there and accept a good outcome, but I couldn't quite do it.  "There is one more thing you should know, Kutter, about your job:  If you don't quit, Katey will almost certainly get an official  promotion to Social Media Manager."

The kids both started talking at once, to me and each other, the gist being that this was amazing but how did I know.  I have them a just-the-facts version of my conversation with Annette.  Their eyes bugged at actually knowing another person who had stayed at the Inn, and they wondered if that meant Kutter had vibed with her in some unconscious way. Eventually, though, Kutter turned to me and asked why I was telling her this; wouldn't she be better off not knowing? 

"Maybe, for you, for now.  But you'd have found out someday, and I don't know if you would forgive me for treating you like a child after how much I've counted on you acting like a mature adult for this whole stretch.  I'm not sure I can carry that around, myself."

Kutter nodded, dejected, and it was quiet before Rusty interjected.  "Like, don't let me stop you!  I know you really want this!"

I shook my head.  "No.  We're not going home and having a series of strangers posing as Kutter until they graduate college, and we're not leaving your brother here on his own."

"Fine.  I'll stay too."

Kutter turned her head.  "You can't do that - think of all we'll miss!"

"What?  Prom?  Taking six years to get back to the point where we'll be able to apply for jobs we love and already know how to do?"  Rusty tucked a bit of hair that had fallen in front of her face as she whipped it between me and Kutter behind her ear.  "And that's if we can get back to this point, assuming other-Kutter and other-Rusty haven't left our transcripts a mess but it doesn't matter, because student loans and scholarships are no longer a thing!"

I folded my arms.  "Rusty, there's no need to panic about that.  The girls have been doing great filling in for you, and I will make sure you can attend college."  She looked down a bit, knowing this was true.  "But why this sudden change of heart?  Were you just telling me what I wanted to hear the other day?  Are you just telling Kutter what she wants to hear now?"

"No, I just..."  She sighed.  "I don't know, I'm usually pretty excited about being myself again, but then I remember how I used to get picked on just for being short, and wonder if it will be worse if I can't shake a bunch of Monica habits or if I'm not ready for how people think of me after a year of other-Rusty.  I guess I want to go back but wouldn't exactly be upset if I couldn't."

"Okay, I understand that."  I turned to Kutter.  "And how do you really feel?"

"Kind of the same?  I mean, yeah, I'm tilting a little more to wondering what that new job would be like, but half the time I feel like I'm not qualified for what I do and that would just be even more.  Still, though, I want to be myself again.  Sometimes I feel like I'm losing who I really am inside Katey, or wondering if there's no 'who I really am' because I'm not really imitating some real Katey, but just being myself, and that's kind of scary.  But, also, if it turned out that other-Dad didn't want to break up with her new girlfriend, I could manage."

I admit, I groaned at the thought of just how long my counterpart had kept things going with a co-worker I hadn't been particularly fond of.

"Anyway, you always said a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and I have to admit, what you're saying makes me wonder which is which in this case.  Maybe I should ask Ms. Grayson how likely things are to go wrong with the Inn, in her experience."

That caught me a bit flat-footed, because for as much as I've learned to fake being Emilia well enough, it's never seemed like the better option for me individually, let alone for us as a family.  That they could suddenly see bright futures as Katey and Monica made sense, though, and I wondered if I would feel the same way if I hadn't been looking for things I could easily leave behind from the start, or if a good situation had found me.

At any rate, I expected to come out of that family meeting with definite plans of how to leave these lives behind, not a promise to ask Annette and any other Inn people what seemed like the right move over the next few days.

-Aidan/Emilia

Marc/Ryan: Parting Ways

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

Aidan/Emilia: Under Our Noses All Along

I had just gotten behind the bar for happy hour last night when someone vaguely familiar came in, sat down at the bar in front of me, and nervously ordered a beer.  She took a couple of quick sips, looked up at the TVs without actually watching any of them, then drained the glass, banging it down on the coaster. 

Odd, I thought.  "You want another?"

She shrugged.  "If I have to in order to sit here."  I said it wasn't that busy yet, and she nodded silently a couple times before chocking her head.  "Do you recognize me?"

I looked at her for a couple seconds.  Not a regular, more a downtown type, thirty-ish, wearing a jacket that matched her skirt and camisole, nude stockings, and knee-high boots with two-inch heels, the sort of outfit that Kutter tended to favor these days, and that's what did it.  "You work with Katey; I saw you at trivia a couple weeks ago."

She named and and reached out her hand.  "Yes!  I'm Annette Grayson, and I need to talk about your son!"

My brain froze as I shook her hand.  "Nice to meet you, but, uh..."

"Katey's your son Kutter, right, and you're Aidan?  I don't have the wrong Emilia, do I?"

"No, that's me, but how?"

She grinned nervously.  "I stayed at the Inn about ten years ago, just before starting college.  Spent a few years as a couple different guys until I get back to my real life, putting it on the blog, though I basically stopped once my life got normal and I figured this maybe shouldn't be the first thing someone sees when they Google me.  Then my friend Jordan forwards me one of your posts talking about Katey's boss Ms. Grayson like 'this you?' and I'm like holy shit, we've had a teenager running our office for the past seven months!"

I give a pinched grin.  "Well, you could have had me."

She shall as she shrugged.  "I mean, her social media skills were a lot better!"  She paused for a second.  "Is it weird that I'm calling her 'she' and 'Katey'?  I mean, I try to respect everyone's identity--"

"They'll be shes for the next few weeks."

"Right.  Anyways, it just made me more impressed with her, and as you know, we all love her, and, well, the boss wants to promote her to social media manager for us and two other imprints."

That stopped me kind of flat.  "Oh. Wow."

"I know, right?  And I can't think of any reason he'd believe for why he shouldn't!  Katey has been fantastic and deserves this, but the next Katey could be a cranky septugenarian who just gave up her landline a year ago.  I don't know how much you know about the publishing business, but that could be a huge hit to us."

"So, what are you saying, that you want Kutter to stay?"

"No, of course not!  If anything, you should probably convince her to give two weeks' notice before she's offered the job. I mean, I'm her boss, but I'm terrible at that part of the job - the last time I suggested that someone might want to investigate an alternate career track given how volatile publishing is, we nearly wound up in arbitration - and, I don't know, maybe as her dad you've got some easy of putting it that makes her feel more mature..."  She groaned and looked at the ceiling for a moment.  "I sound ridiculous."

I shrugged.  "It's hard not to sound ridiculous when talking about that place."  She was looking at her glass, so I asked if she wanted another beer or something stronger. 

"Oh, this calls for whiskey." I obliged, and she downed it and twisted her face.  "I shouldn't be dumping this on you, this is part of my job, not yours, but you know what the fucked up thing is?  I would totally keep Katey on, even knowing what I know.  How irresponsible is that?"

I didn't have an answer, and enough other people were coming in that i couldn't stick by her part of the bar and talk to her.  A couple drinks later, she left, putting a fifty-dollar tip under her coaster. 

I've got no idea how to talk to Kutter about this.  It feels like it should be straightforward, but who knows how she's going to take it? 

-Aidan/Emilia

Dave: Back to normal

It happened on Wednesday night. I slept through the whole thing, and I think Shane did as well, but when we woke up, we were ourselves again. The first thing I did was put my hands in my pants, to welcome an old friend. Shane was in his bed, and I could see him running his hands over his flat chest. We danced around, high fived, and cheered, which was in contrast to the yells of shock and despair that we heard coming from other rooms.

The first thing I did was pee, and to be able to put that seat up and stand again almost made me cry. We gathered our belongings and wrote our letters, just in case something went wrong and Chris and Sylvia didn't make it back. As soon as we were done, we left the inn. There were still a few days left on our reservation, but we really wanted to just get out of there. I don't know if there is any chance we would be transformed again, but we weren't taking any risks. When we got to the airport, we managed to book a last minute flight back to Indy, paying far too much. I don't think either of us cared, though.

Now we're back at home, going back to our lives, and I'm very motivated to try to make things better. I realise now that I'd been existing more than living in my original life, and I really need to repair some relationships to make things better. I'll take a few days first to just take stock, and then reopen my business and get back to work on Monday.

Maybe I'll give you guys an update to let you know how things worked out in a few months, but I don't know if there'll be much to report, so this could be the last post from me.

It's certainly been an experience I won't forget...

Marc/Ed: The Cost of Goodbye

God bless the independent spirit of Maine, where even someone as hard-edged as Pam will think "Sure, take Cayden on an open-ended fishing trip in the middle of May -- he'll learn more with you than he would at school." The teachers sent along some homework, which John has dutifully been working his way through. He wants to be kept busy but is not particularly interested in treating this as a "vacation" -- we've hardly left the Inn, although I've been out for supplies, feeling weird about leaving an 11-year-old boy in a room by himself even for an hour. I saw Dave, briefly -- he and Shane were here the last time I was, but at the time I was pretty focused on what was going on in my room and was a little uncomfortable making contact with other guests. 

I was insistent that Cayden and Ed spend Mother's Day with Pam, to John's annoyance. "Do you know how confusing it's been to have to behave as though this stranger is my mother? To let her control me and monitor me this entire time?" Of course I do. But in my opinion, Pamela is a good mom and deserves flowers and appreciation, and we certainly haven't made it an easy year for her.

It's not a long drive to Old Orchard Beach, but we set out early yesterday and made it in time for a diner breakfast. After settling in, we had a lot of time to sit, play cards, and talk about things: where we've been, where we're going, what's next.

"There's a chance this goes wrong," I noted, "It happens, and if so, we'll adjust, but I'm going to make every effort to ensure it's right. We have to sleep every night the way we did the last time we were here."

"As I recall, we were cuddling, with me facing the east window," he said.

"Nothing weird about a boy and his grandfather sharing a bed," I shrugged.

"There's nothing not-weird about this scenario," he laughed. Then after a moment, he asked, "So what ended up happening with Christine?"

Ah, yes. The last time I wrote here, I had heard from Christine. I had thought that we would part ways simply, but as is so often the case in my life, simple is not so simple.

A few weeks ago, we met up for coffee. She was happy to see me, and I her -- to my embarrassment, it was a little like reuniting with an old lover, even though we had never technically been such. Over java, she explained her plight: she had a job offer, her first in a very long time, as a school administrator.

The problem? It was down in New Hampshire. That involves all kinds of moving expenses, money she can't come up with because she hasn't been working.

"I've asked you for so much," she said, a creak of sadness in her voice. "And I don't want anything from you in money, I've taken too much. All I need is for you to co-sign a loan for me."

I didn't like the sound of this. I asked her for the paperwork, which she had brought in her big woven purse. I put on my extra-thick reading glasses and began to scan.

"Christine, you can't do this," I said, almost immediately. The interest rates were what I would call predatory. She told me how much she was going to be making and I quickly deduced she would be paying this loan off until she retired. That's hardly the fresh start she needed.

"Ed, I don't have a choice!" she said, tears now welling up in her eyes. "I need to get out of Maine, I need this job, I have to do whatever it takes to make this work!"

"You ever hear the expression cutting off your nose to spite your face? Well, this is a nose, an eye and an ear. It's borderline usury. Just on this side of it."

"How do you know all this stuff, since when are you a lawyer?"

"I've got layers," I said with a grim smirk.

"Well, what else can I do? And don't say take the money from you, you know Pamela would never--"

"To hell with Pamela," I said. "I've got the money, I don't need it. It's yours, take it in good faith."

"Ed, no," she pled, "At the very least, let me pay it back... with whatever interest you want to charge."

"No, no," I insisted. Us getting into a long-term financial entanglement is the last thing I needed considering I won't be Ed much longer. I wanted to walk away free and clear, and I suppose -- somewhat selfishly -- I wanted to help repair someone's broken life without taking them to the Inn.

We met again a week later. I had the money order drawn up and some paperwork. It's boilerplate stuff basically absolving her of any responsibility to repay. It could theoretically be challenged in court since the signature on the bottom doesn't exactly look like the one on Ed's driver's license (though I tried hard to emulate it) but I took a picture of both of us holding up the contract and smiling to confirm that yes, Ed Levesque was of sound mind and body when he signed this paper, and under no duress.

After that we shared a celebratory beer, and then... gosh. It was like we were a couple of kids. Maybe it was the euphoria of her problems suddenly melting away, maybe it was the imminent goodbye on both of our sides, but we went back to her place and started kissing.

Soon it became a lot more than kissing as we explored each other's bodies in the way we had probably hoped to a few months earlier. If I were a mature and sensible person I would have put a stop to it before we got our clothes off, but it had been a long time since I had been in that position and I had been yearning for it...

Only for it to be stopped by outside forces.

"Ed," she said, reaching down, "I don't mean to offend you, but, um... are you... okay...? Down there...?"

There spirit is willing, but the flesh is... old and tired.

I looked down at my non-responsive Little Ed and sighed. You know, all these months, I hardly ever even thought about it, which was probably a sign about the way things were working down there. I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. Here I was, in bed with a woman I really did want, caught up in the moment, but my body seemed incapable of rising to the occasion.

No matter how much it made sense, no matter how much we probably shouldn't have proceeded, it gnawed at me. In my head, I am still a young-ish, vital person, even if I haven't been a man who has sex with women in years (and if you ask me ex-wife, she might say that that goes back well before our trip to the Inn...) Having that taken from me hurt on a level that most people probably wouldn't get. It's been a long time since my mind and my body were in synch that way, and this was a reminder of how far out of my control it all is, and will continue to be.

"Do you maybe... have a pill?" she asked hopefully. Ed's a fairly recent widower who was still in mourning for his wife, so that was a no.

We laid there in the altogether, hoping that something would happen that simply wasn't going to, before the moment passed. She kissed me goodbye and dressed herself, and we convinced ourselves it was for the best. Christine and Ed was not a thing that needed to happen. Not that Christine is so shallow that that's all she is interested in, but I took it as a sign, one of many, that I am not currently -- and maybe never will be -- the person she needs to fulfill her needs, and that I can lay to rest the idea that I am missing out on some great romance by not being able to spend more time with her.

It would seem that that chapter of my life is closed now... not without sadness or at least bittersweet notes, but it's for the best. Before long I'll be Ryan again -- hopefully -- and then I'll hand his life back and go on to my next adventure.

-Ed

Dave/Chris: End of an adventure

Shane and I are back at the Inn. We arrived today, and hopefully we'll be back in our bodies soon, and we can go back to our regular lives. I haven't posted much recently, because there hasn't been a whole lot to tell. We've been running the cafe and living pretty regular lives. After Shane had his threesome, things cooled off between the 2 of us, and we haven't had sex since. I guess that when Shane did this, a barrier went up from my side, and he hasn't pushed it since. We were also coming to the end of this journey, and I think that once we're back in our normal bodies, it might be easier to go back to how things were, if we're not currently having sex or in some kind of weird relationship.

I still worry about it, though. After what we've been through, and what we did together, can things ever go back to how they were? I guess we'll just have to wait and see. We're still fine, but I can sense a sort of awkwardness, which I can only describe as being similar to hanging out with an ex that you decided to try to stay friends with.

It's been an interesting experience, and we've both learnt a lot. Being trans for these months has really opened my eyes to the challenges that they face, and the frankly vindictive laws being enacted by the current administration that serve nothing, and trample all over a group of people that are marginalized anyway. The bathroom laws, for example, are ridiculous. I look very much like a man, but now I'm supposed to use women's bathrooms? And if I decide to play any team sports, then I should join a women's team? I'm quite sure that there would be objections if I did either of these things.

I'm also looking forward to going back to my business. Running a cafe is difficult anyway, but now, nobody knows what will happen to the supply or the prices of anything imported. As a locksmith, a lot of my business is opening the doors of people that have locked themselves out - which requires tools I have anyway. I also cut keys and install locks, but I managed to order a whole lot of blank keys and locks from a supplier a couple of months ago which they'll hold for me until I get back.

There is some apprehension about going back, though. When we were in Indy over Christmas, I realised just how fucked up my actual life is. I'm really motivated to try to fix what I can now, and build a life I'm happier in. Living the life of Chris was less stressful in a lot of ways. I was there temporarily, and whatever I did, and whatever happened, I won't be around to live out the consequences of. That's not to say I didn't try to do the right thing - but if I messed anything up, then it would make no difference to me in the long term. Having said that, I don't think that we made a mess of things, and Chris and Sylvia can go back without too many problems.

I wonder how Shane will adjust to going back to being a man. Looking at him, it's very difficult to see that he was ever anything but a woman. When we were packing to go to the inn, he went through Sylvia's closet and lamented that he didn't get to wear a lot of her summer dresses, because it's never been warm enough. On the other hand, he's often complained about the uncomfortable heels, the make-up and periods - or the lines for the ladies bathrooms, and having to sit to pee. I think I got it worse than him there, though. Men's bathrooms often only have one stall and someone has usually pissed all over the seat. He did adjust to being a woman very quickly and comprehensively, so I hope he adjusts to being a man again just as quickly. I'm mostly looking forward to getting my cock back. I constantly worry about someone finding out that I don't have one, and I'll be very happy when I won't have to deal with this anymore.

I think we'll mostly be spending our days walking around town, going to the beach and trying to treat it as a vacation. It's still quite nerve-wracking, because until we're back in our own bodies, a lot can still go wrong. We have decided on a very strict rule about staying in our respective beds from 11pm until the sun comes up. No going to the bathroom during the night, just in case, so the key will be not to drink much when we go out and particularly taking it easy on the beer.

Now we wait, and hope that it all goes to plan....

Aidan/Emilia: Please let us change back before swimsuit season.

So I got back from a shift at the bookstore the other day, and my younger son had left her bedroom door open, posing in front of the mirror in a string bikini, taking selfies and then staring at them critically. 

I tried to sound cool with it.  "Beaches open already?"  Surprisingly, she actually yipes, puts a hand in front of her groin and the other arm across her breasts, and quickly slams the door with her body.  This seems kind of unusual - Rusty certainly likes showing off her "Monica" body, and we'll all kind of run through the apartment half-dressed when we're in a rush - so I rap on the door.  "Everything okay?  I didn't mean to catch you by surprise."

She opened the door with a crop-top and jeans clearly just quickly pulled on over the swimsuit.  "No, it's fine, I just didn't think you'd be home for another hour."  She grabbed a glass of water and took a sip.  "I guess some of them never close, but Razzie's been talking about it finally being bikini weather, so I wanted to check and see if I could pull it off before she says we should hit the beach some Saturday or something."

"Really?  Don't take this the wrong way, but this doesn't seem like the sort of thing you usually worry about.  I really wish you would, but if it's suddenly a problem, I have to wonder if something's up."

"Nothing's...  I mean, nothing's happened to me or anything, it's just that wearing a bikini means my whole butt is out there and I can't see if it looks weird, and the top feels different from a regular bra, and, I dunno, it kind of doesn't feel like I'm wearing underwear but does feel like it could all come apart.  Sure, if someone unties something without me noticing and gets pictures of me naked, it won't be my problem for long, but, like, it feels kinda precarious."

I nodded.  "Well, first, your butt doesn't look weird.  Speaking as your gym buddy, you've got a great butt that you've put a lot of work into."

"Eww, Dad, gross!"

I raised my hands.  "Hey, like I said, that's your roommate and workout partner Emilia talking!  But as your dad, I can give you the old lectures about peer pressure and not doing anything you're not ready for.  And I'm sure Monica left you a one-piece swimsuit or two, maybe stuff for actually swimming laps or the like."

She nodded.  "Oh, yeah, she did, but I kinda wanted to try all the sexy stuff before we turn back.  Have a bunch of photos on a thumb drive saying I killed it later, and it feels good, you know?  Not so much folks saying I'm pretty, but that I chose a nice outfit or that I must work out."  She paused.  "You think I'll still like working out when I'm myself again?"

I nodded.  We'd been given the lives of three healthy and attractive young women, but there was a lot that we now know took effort despite having taken it for granted before, and compliments, especially when they come from (other) women can feel pretty good even if I feel like Emilia's genetics are doing most of the work.  "I don't know how much is that Monica's body is an endorphin factory and how much is that being her put you in a spot where you discovered you can like it, but I figure you might."  I paused for a second, wary of the next question.  "Are you going to miss being Monica?"

She shrugged.  "I mean, sure, but not the bras and periods and heels.  God, I can't wait to stand to pee again, even if the lines weren't so much shorter.  I'll probably really miss everything in the city, and Razzie and Chandra, and bar trivia.  It feels crazy that I'm going to have to wait years for people to treat me like an adult again!"

I had a brief thought about Rusty and Kutter throwing who was responsible for paying rent in New York in my face if I ever tried to impose a curfew.

"But, I've got to admit, when I'm doing Korean lessons or watching other people in class, that kind of feels right, you know?  Like where I should be.  And there's so much Monica probably learned in school that people expect me to know, and I'll sometimes hear from other-Rusty and freak out because I'd forgotten something or someone. I'm kind of ready to be done."

I gave her a big grin.  "You've got no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that, given how well you and Kutter have done and how quickly you adapted!"

- Aidan/Emilia

(That said, she went out to run laps around the park in just her sports bra and spandex shorts this morning!)