Isaac/Ainsley: While It Lasts

Why does everyone keep telling me I'm supposed to hate the way I'm living my own life?

That's the big question these days-- or the most abstracted, slightly less terrifying version of the real question; "will Marvin give me my life back"? It'd be bad enough if it was just him playing whatever sick game he's got in mind (for what it's worth, he did at least follow through on securing an Inn reservation), but I've been hearing it from all around me. Heather. The way Ainsley's circle clearly doesn't know what to do with me. Even before the Inn, from my parents. Not explicitly, but the way they always come across as underwhelmed when they ask how I've been doing since I moved out.

Often I feel like whatever's going on with me, I've only worsened Ainsley's life with it, in her absence. But this life makes me spend a lot more time talking to people than I have since I was a kid. First her coworkers, then I stopped turning down her friends (as often), and as separate as I feel from all of these people it's ultimately more satisfying to talk with them rather than be talked at, now that I've picked up enough to be able to do that occasionally. And sometimes, the conversation will turn to something completely mundane, and I can chime in, or make a joke, and for a couple minutes I'm able to forget myself and feel like I'm not an interloper, like I'm normal.

And isn't that just what it is? Completely normal? I can't think of anything more normal than getting lunch with your coworkers or chatting with (the people who think they're) your friends. Back home, I'm always by myself whenever I'm at the dining hall-- how often you think Ainsley ever got lunch by herself in college? Once or twice a month, tops? There's only a couple people I ever really talk to, and with all the free time I get from not having a life I just... tend to my plants. God, I miss my plants. That was something in my life that made sense, dammit. But now I'm more social than I've ever been, off of a completely different person's inertia, and when I'm not freaking the hell out or waiting to be alone again it can actually be kind of nice! Sometimes. And that terrifies me, because if something that basic feels that abnormal to me, then it only raises the voice in the back of my head telling me that my tormentors are right. That Isaac Strauss couldn't live his own life.

I was considering all this as I arrived back at the apartment from the latest installment of "Brunch With The Girls" at around 2 PM, just in time to see a still-groggy Heather fumble around the kitchen for some cereal. My plan was to head to my room and exchange the floral sundress (damn this city, making stuff like that the uniform for Ainsley's group in mid-February) for something warmer, since we keep the A/C inadvisably high in here. But when I saw her I just couldn't help myself and ask her if my own life is really that depressing.

"Oh my god." She looked like she was about to slam her face in her cereal. I've seen her do it before. "Okay, look. Do you actually think asking me this shit for the twentieth time's gonna make the Marvin, thing, suck any less? I'm gonna try asking you something-- What would you do if we stayed?"

"What?"

"I'm just saying. Suppose we stayed. What kind of Ainsley would you want to be? How much of her would you keep, if you had the choice?"

"I'm very concerned by the we in that hypothetical."

"Look, I'm just--" Heather caught herself, apparently thoughtful enough to at least appear guilty. "Okay. Forget about me. Forget about Marvin, or the real Ainsley, or the mom she's subbing for, or some other body you might end up in, or anything. This is about you, doing what you want. What would you do?"

I thought about it for a little while. It's a tough question, even harder than resisting the temptation to dispute the question's premise.

"I... I don't know. It's not like I've had much of a reason to think about it. You know, actually? I'd get some plants. Some nice vines. That's the first thing I'd do. Besides that, I don't know, and I try not to imagine it."

"So why haven't you done that already? Too busy knitting?"

"It's not that, it's, well..." I couldn't bring myself to look anywhere above the floor. "It'd feel like I'm cheating on the ones in my dorm-- Hey!" I heard a loud snort and some barely restrained giggling. "It's not that funny!"

"Sure." Heather let out that wide smile she always gets whenever she thinks she's gotten the upper hand in a conversation. "But what I'm saying is, I think you should try doing something on your terms. Not Ainsley's. Not Marvin's. Yours. Take initiative or control of anything, for once, God."

"And then what? Am I supposed to convince Marvin I deserve my own life? Play along with that, that rat? I don't think he's earned the good faith of the assumption he hasn't already decided what he's going to do with my body, one way or the other! I don't know what's going to happen, and it feels like even the act of going along with him would be handing him a victory."

"That's what I'm saying, dumbass! You don't know what's going to happen, and that's exactly why you should do it! Not for him! For you! Because you don't know how your life's gonna turn out, or your next life. What if you get stuck as an old man who can barely walk, or a mother of, I dunno, eight, or some empty-nester at a high school's front office counting down the number of entitled parents she has to yell at before retirement!? Just. Do anything that's not Ainsley's leftovers, while you still know what your body's gonna look like when you wake up in the morning. You don't need the Inn to get thrown from one life to another before you know it. Trust me."

I couldn't bring myself to listen to any more of this. "You know what? I am sick and tired of every conversation I ever have turning into a, some kind of guilt-tripping morality play! I don't know if all you people are right about my life, but I can tell everyone thinks they know how to live it better than me." I then took the initiative and control to turn my back on Heather and head off to my bedroom, like I should've done to begin with.

Then I spent a couple hours coming up with reasons she's wrong.

Arthur/Penny/Millie: I Need Another Vacation

Even with all the snow, I'm not going to get it any more than I got to enjoy this last week, which was packed because Millie is good at sports, and when kids are good at sports they wind up expected to fill their school vacations with tournaments and events, even when you'd think these girls would really rather be home watching the Olympics and getting inspired!

I wouldn't mind so much if it was just tennis. I like that a lot, although I'm probably hurting Millie's chances of being noticed by the scouts looking for the next girl who could be a teenage champion, which seemed a whole lot cuter and more exciting when you're just watching the Williams sisters crush seasoned vets on TV and marveling at kids being prodigies than when you're simultaneously that kid having practice eat your weekends and her mother worried about if this is hurting her in school or making her miss out on being a child.  Oh, and that a bunch of adults are looking at a kid and seeing her as just one of of many their hedging their bets on, abandoning the ones they can't exploit.  Millie and the other girls mostly seem to enjoy the attention and the praise from knowledgeable adults, but I obviously can't get into that mindset.  Maybe it will be a good thing if my being just pretty good means she doesn't get recruited into a big program, but i can obviously never, ever say this to her after we get back to normal.  All apologies! 

But that's tennis.  Millie's winter sport is cross-country skiing, and I think I hate it.  Aside from it being constant endurance and knowing how to pace and push your body, it requires a lot more talent in terms of reading the trail than I've developed.  One thing I've learned as Penny, and which the original has learned in his second life as well, it's that there are physical activities where it's fun to go all out and others where it's better just doing enough to burn some calories, and cross-country skiing isn't even that. 

(Oddly, I kind of enjoy using the Nordic machines at the gym - it's like a good run except your breasts don't bounce as much - but once you're out in the snow, it just kind of sucks!)

But I think I could endure that if it was just not looking the activity, because as both Millie's mom and an Inn person not wanting to leave someone in the lurch, I want to return her life to her just as she left it.  But, God, why are boys like this? 

I haven't talked a lot about having to dress like a girl Millie's age, because I really haven't figured out how not to sound like a creep or uptight mom or hypocrite.  There's lots of wearing leggings like they're pants and midriff-baring tops in warmer weather (or when you know you're not going to be outside), and I absolutely have become the sort of woman who thinks that sort of thing is okay to wear when working out but not when hanging out, even if you're doing both in the same city park.  Girls this age are also starting to experiment with cosmetics, and not only am I not ready as a mom, but I'm actually kind of too good at it:  I had to study hard and really drill myself to make it second nature, and it kind of takes the other 13-year-old girls by surprise when the tomboy whose dad especially doesn't want her putting anything on her face blends her makeup like she's been doing it longer than they've been alive.  Harmon giggled when I told her that I'd said my mother taught me because anything worth doing is worth doing well, and living up to that layer is going to be annoying. 

But I digress.  What I'm trying to get at is that, while tennis is just skirts that aren't that far off from regular clothes, skiing is spandex that shows that my chest and bottom have filled in a bit over the past few months.  I'm still more tall and rangy than curvy, but now a whole bunch of middle school boys who didn't realize Millie had breasts or a butt are taking notice and finding reasons to "accidentally" brush up against them, and, god, it's so uncomfortable, because I'm not sure what to think.  I know that, despite having a whole lot more life experience, I am a nearly-14-year-old girl on a certain level, with a whole bunch of hormones, and while some of these boys are leering like creeps (and let us not get into their dads!), some are just having their attention caught and are probably perfectly nice, and the sort of boys Millie would like.  Hell, I kind of like them, and I can't deny that I sometimes feel like I've acclimated to this age more than I'd like, when I feel patronized or come up against something in school that I didn't encounter in my previous lives or pick up some pop culture thing that Ray and Harmon don't know.  But, yes, hormones are flowing, I'm feeling very frustrated by the fact that I haven't had that sort of intimacy as part of my life for six months, and I sometimes think that maybe I should get myself a little boyfriend, just so that Millie doesn't look weird skipping another dance or have rumors swirl around her that she has to deal with when she gets back.  I won't, but "tween" does come from between.

And then, of course, there's the racism.  Yes, there have been a lot of Asian and Asian-American folks doing very well at the Olympics over the past couple of weeks, but there are still a lot of folks out there (mostly parents) who think winter sports are just for northern-European people like they don't have snow anywhere else in the world and have depressingly little filter about Millie participating in them.  Official school sports is pretty good about not putting up with that nonsense, but you still here it before people get escorted away, and during vacation-week invitationals, there's usually less enforcement.  This isn't my first go-round as an Asian-American, so it's not out of left field, but I must admit, I kind of figured Elizabeth might have been someone who brought out the worst in people and they reached for the worst possible thing - I'm not proud of ever having had the mindset of a white guy who thinks there must be some sort of explanation for vile racist shit - but that's definitely not the case with Millie.  That some of it came from a 15-year-old boy that looked like might become something and that Millie might like, well, that was the icing on the top of a terrible dessert.

So that kind of sucked, and being stuck in the apartment alone with Ray and Harmon today has been a pain.  The city's big enough that we can all kind of go our separate ways when things get uncomfortable, but Harmon decided to be flirty today.  I guess she teases Ray a lot when I'm not around, and he always says it's really inappropriate, but he got mad today, and Harmon giggled when he went in the restroom to relieve some tension, then outside to shovel.

Needless to say, I'm very ready to get back to being myself again.  I've had another card from Millie that sounds like she's feeling the same way, at least, but it can't come soon enough.

-Arthur/Penny/Millie

Marc/Dustin: Flowers

In a sense, my little falling-out with Koti was pretty ill-timed since it fell just before Valentine's Day. I had made reservations for dinner and even planned for a bouquet of roses because she's always drops hints that there are times when she'd really like to be treated as a girly girl, and the 14th seemed like the exact case for that.

While I was fretting over this, we were communicating via text. I did my best to be conciliatory. "Even if I don't see this relationship going the way you do, I'm still invested. My feelings haven't changed. We click, and you're the person that makes being in this place good."

Her initial response: "What is this American clicking?" (We watched Heated Rivalry, repeatedly, often while having a little heated rivalry of our own.)

She continued, "I juts don't know if there's a point if we have different objectives. Continuing this relationship when we see it differently feels... delusional."

"Well, let's talk about it," I said. Talking this out is one of the things we do best, and at the very least it often becomes foreplay for us.

February 13th, she arrived at my door dressed in a suit with her hair -- which is just above shoulder-length -- pulled back into a right ponytail (pigtail? Can you have one pigtail?) with a dozen roses in hand.

I eyed her up and down. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait," she said. "Let's get dinner."

We went to a cantina. She loves getting Mexican food because it's not something she was able to enjoy as John, with all the attending heartburn. 

Over carnitas tacos, she apologized -- or gave the Koti version of an apology without ever actually saying "sorry," -- for "blindsiding" me with her proposal. "I can see how that must have seemed abrupt."

She went on, "I realized at that time that I've lived a long life and that if I go back to being John, then I really won't be getting any younger, and I just wanted to take the happiness that I experience with you back with me to that life."

"Okay," I allowed, "But in that life you have a wife."

"I think Mary and I are prepared for an amicable split. There will be... negotiations, of course, we don't have a prenup, but we also don't have children together, so that simplifies things. I think it will be easier than ending my first marriage. You've always told me I should end things with Mary."

"I've told you to be honest with her," I interjected, "And to do what would be best for both of you."

"Synonyms," she said. "If I become John again, I just want some assurances that it's for somebody and something, not jumping into the great unknown."

"And me? I could be anybody, anywhere," I said, "There's no guarantee that we'll be compatible."

"I don't consider that a problem," Koti said, "I think at this point, Mary would be the only person on Earth I don't want to make love to. Well, her and PJ."

"That doesn't preclude the possibility that I'll be in a body where I can't, or wouldn't deem it appropriate, to couple with you."

"We can make it work," she said tactfully. "It won't always have to be physical."

"You're disregarding the needs of other people," I said, "What if I become a married man, what are my responsibilities? What if I become a little kid or I have to move to Texas?"

"You think I'm not cognizant of all that?" she balked. "We could go years without seeing each other but still remain faithful in spirit."

"You're asking for assurances and guarantees and commitments I can't make," I said, "I'm trying to be reasonable here."

"I'm asking for effort," she retorted. "I'm asking you to defy that thing in your mind or your heart that says you have to be safe and careful and behave yourself, and instead do what you want. For me."

"I can't," I said, "I just can't. All we can do is play it by ear, take it as it comes."

She sat back and gazed down at the floor behind me. "I guess I just think that what we have is special. So help me, Marc, I'm in love with you. And whatever face you had, all you would have to do is say two sentences and I'd fall back in love with you. In my wildest dreams, we go the distance. You find a life and a body that suits you and you become mine and we wouldn't have to wonder what the future held because we were living in it. You can't tell me that doesn't sound good."

I sighed. "It does." I went on, "And if it happens, it happens, but like you said, you won't be getting younger and the idea of waiting for me to be in a life where that's possible... we're at an impasse here, as to whether we think that's possible. I can't marry you because I can't make a promise. I have to take my life day by day, year by year."

Her mouth tightened and her expression became focused. "Let's not talk about it anymore," she said. "Let's just enjoy our meal."

We did and though there was a shadow over the rest of the evening, eventually we did find a way to communicate about something else and lighten up.

By the time we got back home, we were back in our usual revved-up mode. In retrospect, I think it was Koti's idea to show me what I might be missing out on if I passed up her offer, because that night we had, I would say, the most sex, by quantity, of any single night of our relationship in any form. As soon as we finished, she was ready to initiate it again, in some other position. She used her body to the fullest that night, and I Dustin's.

And then when it was all over, around 3 AM, she sat up and began dressing. When I asked what she was doing, she sighed. "I think that we've just done it for the last time. As fun as this is, if you don't see a future here, I'm not sure I can continue. It hurts too much to think we're only killing time until an inevitable parting. So let's just part."

With that, she went down to the basement. When her flowers arrived the next day, I took the card off and told PJ to give them to "Cassie." I let the single girls in the house have the dinner reservation. And I've been sleeping alone, again.

For what it's worth, I don't think this is the end of me and Koti, or rather Marc and John. I just think we have very different ideas about what a marriage is and what a promise is and what this Inn-life is. I hate to be so wishy-washy, but I'm definitely feeling like, "If it's meant to be it'll be," and if this is where she wants to blow the whole thing up, then we're into "not meant to be" territory. I'm not saying I won't fight for it if I think it's right, but right now it's simply too many unknowns to make any kind of forecast about the future.

-Marc/Dustin

Isaac/Ainsley: Ungrateful

Incredibly, by the time Thanksgiving came around and I couldn't put off meeting Ainsley's family any longer, I wasn't all that terrified. I don't know whether that's growth or just numbness, or if the two can be considered the same thing at times. It helps that, as Ainsley's family lives nearby and "I" blew all my PTO in Maine over the summer, I had an excuse to only show up for a few hours on the day of.

It was basically a vacation compared to the wedding, and nothing really noteworthy happened why didn't have a worse equivalent at the wedding. I fielded Ainsley's parents' questions about how the job is going, if I'm back into dating yet, and why I stopped showing up to watch the Cardinals with them this year with disappointingly flat answers. Her family does the big extended family gathering type of Thanksgiving (it was at an aunt's house), which normally isn't my speed but it helped keep me from getting put on the spot too much by the people who know Ainsley best, again.

Christmas went much the same way, after changing out the food and decorations. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As predicted the holidays made it difficult for Ainsley's friends to coordinate any more big meetups for several weeks, not helped by how Ainsley is usually the one doing the coordinating. I got talked into a holiday party where about two-thirds of them showed up, it went okay. The wedding gave me enough experience with these girls to settle into an uncomfortable but stable equilibrium where they're clearly baffled by Ainsley's lack of being in sync, so to speak, but I'm present enough that they've learned not to pry too hard. I eat and drink and wait for a conversation topic which gives me opportunities to speak in ways that won't humiliate me and count down until I get to leave.

Melissa is the exception. I kept my promise to see her again and we've gotten lunch a couple times. Whenever I interact with her it feels as if she's trying to figure me out (though with less openly stated desperation than at the bachelorette party), as if she believes if she cracks the code, she'll be able to tease the real Ainsley back out. More than awkwardness, I just feel terrible for her. She's genuinely charismatic and engaging to be around, even if we don't have much in common, and all she wants and deserves is something I don't know how to give. But I can tell, she'd rather have the illusion of Ainsley in her life than to have her vanish again. So it goes.

That all being said I drew the line at going clubbing with the group on New Year's Eve. I already tried doing the courageous thing and taking a big step out of my comfort zone at the bachelorette party, and you remember how that went. Heather also made plans so I had the apartment to myself for the night. It went pretty well, all things considered. I broke into Ainsley's wine stash and watched The Truman Show. I'd had worse NYEs.

The next day I got a text from Isaac Strauss.

Also known as Marvin Harrell. I've kind of avoided talking about the man in my body, and I didn't like thinking much about him, either. Once it became clear that my life requires relatively little micromanagement it just became, too uncomfortable to imagine someone else in my place. Easier to avoid it altogether, despite how irrational a fear I thought it was.

Hey man,

I've been wanting to tell you. I mentioned I'm a 35-year-old guy, but that wasn't the whole truth. I'm SUPPOSED to be 35. But I was in this woman's seventies before I ended up in your body.

I've been in a few seventies, actually. An eighties, once. Life starts to look different when you keep taking peeks at the end. Fucker steals my body 'cause some girl smiled at him at the gym and he thinks he's got some kind of soulmate, and every summer since then that place finds another way to take everything from me again. Eyesight. Strength. Independence. The future. Lust, and not just that kind but. The lust for life. One time the guy in my at-the-time-body's husband's life got a heart attack, and he barely lived, but man, he got to go back in the end. And the fucked up part is you get used to it. You start to forget what you've lost, 'cause there's no other way to cope.

And then I finally got a good roll and woke up in your body and, man. You're a scrawny young guy, maybe that chick you're in's stronger than you used to be even. But you're a young guy. Could've been made of toothpicks and you'd still have one thing I hadn't had in years. Potential. You've got problems, but with the time to solve them. When a guy your age rots there's either something wrong with him or it's by choice. And I'm watching you do the same thing to Ainsley's life, too.

I just wanna know, what's up man? If you asked me in the first couple days I would've been relieved at how little you've got going on but it's just. Sad. The more I thought about it every joint pain-free day, the more I looked at you in the mirror, the less it sat right with me. And when I couldn't take it anymore I started making some changes. It's not that hard, you've got free time out the ass. Getting a real haircut was one of the first things I did. Been hitting the gym for a while now. Tried figuring out how to take care of your plants but some of them keep trying to die on me, I'm working on it though. Started chatting with some people at the dining hall, been going on hikes with them every now and then. Not a bad time. I tried out for the improv club but ate shit at the audition. You'd think all this Inn stuff'd make us better actors. Oh, and I cut off that girl you're always texting. She's too nice to say it, but she's for sure tired of you dude. Being the only person you have. You've been holding yourself back, it's for the best. Trust me, I've been there.

So yeah, I'll let you know about Inn reservation stuff once that opens up but I just felt like I had to tell you all that. You've gotta appreciate what you've got before it's gone. I mean, can I keep your life? It's not like you were using it. Lol

-Marv

I had to replace Ainsley's phone after that.

Daryl/Zee: Period/Relief

I've been one woman or another for a while now, enough to know I shouldn't get too precious about my period, or act like it's some astonishingly brain-breaking thing if you were previously a man.  As Elaine, I apparently found it less trying than J.T. had, enough so that after the first time, I could be prepared and not complain too much; as Magda, I was post-menopausal; and as Zee, I have to admit that the cramping was pretty bad in the first couple months, but ironically, being an Inn person gave me a bit of a leg up on a lot of women:  I knew it wasn't this painful for everyone, so I made an appointment with my gynecologist and got a prescription for something to make them less intense.  It would have been nice to get into one of the typical viagra trials - apparently the same way that dilating your veins helps blood flow to your dick to get it hard can also help blood flow out to your vag without backing up and causing pain! - but it's not that bad.  Would have been funny if that's how i wound up on that particular medication, though. 

The point is, I recently got put on some new meds, and I've been even more aware of what's going on down there than usual lately.  I've been told to expect my period to be a little irregular for a few months, so I wasn't immediately worried about being a couple days late.  Eventually, I bought a test.

I'm not pregnant, thankfully - the way a watched pot never boils, I had my period two days after the test - but it was the first time that I really had to consider the possibility.  I'm not particularly anxious to be a mother, but I don't think that's got anything to do with starting out as a man.  I've seen how completely being a mom has become part of Penny's and Krystle's lives, for instance, and there's a former guy at a the regular Changeling meet-up who is actuality kind of fretting about potential infertility.  She's just a few years older than me (both since we were born and the ages in our current passports), so maybe my biological clock will start making more noise soon.  Which isn't to say I'm averse to having a child or would have immediately made an appointment at a clinic to terminate the pregnancy if test was positive; I think I probably would have kept it and enjoyed being a parent.  But then there's the matter of the father. 

That's Cory - we've been meeting up fairly frequently since Krystle/Mackenzie started college and the weather turned cold enough that folks weren't looking to patronize a hot dog food truck, and he's seemed to be very much at loose ends about what to do with his spare time sense.  So he'll wind up taking the Downeaster to Boston, I'd head north, we'd meet up, and we've ended up in each other's beds a few times rather than try to plan too much around the relatively few trains or finding parking.

It's kind of funny for me to be on this side of an age-gap relationship now, after being with J.T. as Magda for as long as I was, and a lot of my friends and co-workers scratch their heads when they bump into me with a white man twice my age as we're out on the town.  There's really no explaining that he gets me a lot better than most people I meet - not only have we literally both been the same person at times, but that red-haired college freshman daughter of his has actually been two Black women roughly my age, and he's been very good about learning from them rather than trying to force them to match their appearance.  Eventually, they see him being pretty cool about the things I love and knowing more than you'd think to look at him, and shrug.  We're weird, but we work.

I probably wouldn't hesitate for long if he asked me to marry him, even beyond how I'm on my fourth identity because I am way too romantic for my own good.  But raising a child with him?  I mean, I'm pretty sure he'd be a good father, even though he didn't really have to be a dad to Elaine & Krystle, just seeing him with kids buying hot dogs, and it's not like anybody knows what they're doing when they become parents.  Working moms could probably have many worse partners than patient semi-retired men who are pretty spry despite being in their sixties during those early years.  But Cory'd be 83 when a child born today graduates from high school, and that number's not going down.

So, we're both kind of relieved that I'm not pregnant.  But in a way, it just kicks a question we hadn't really considered down the road a bit, and makes it harder to deal with if it should come up.

-Daryl/Zee

Marc/Dustin: Questions Without Answers

In my last post -- in my rush to relate the situation between myself, Koti, Mary and PJ -- I made a few offhand references that I later saw raised eyebrows in the comments.

One was the nature of Koti's Christmas present to me, which will have to remain a secret.

The other was that Mary revealed that Koti had told her that I had pressured her into the relationship. Like I had somehow taken this otherwise unwilling straight-man-turned-girl and squeezed her into something sexual that they maybe weren't ready for. I'm not saying that my account of events isn't biased, but I think we all know the truth of that, considering John and I slept together when we were both men.

Mary was good enough to say that she hadn't given it any credit, which I think tells you something about the way John is perceived even by those who know him: that anything he says is going to be a bit self-serving, a bit manipulative, and should be taken with a grain of salt.

Which is to say, no, I wasn't angry. That was John being John, or Koti being Koti. But I think the bigger question is why wasn't I mad, why wasn't I hurt? Why do I expect the worst from this person I am currently in a relationship with? I keep her at arm's length knowing that, as much of a connection as we have, I take our relationship to be transient, something that will eventually end, something not to be taken seriously. Whatever she needs to do to feel comfortable, I don't think I care and I don't think if affects me.

Koti is good company and a willing sexual partner, and I'm not sure where it all goes beyond that. Ordinarily that would be well within the parameters for me to consider her a potential long term partner, but as you know this isn't an ordinary situation. And there's still the stumbling block of, in a way, she's still married. Separated, but not completely, from Mary. As long as we're all tangled together like this I don't know what kind of future we should have, so I'm "in the moment" with it and happy about it.

That's how I've chosen to survive this situation, right or wrong. And lord knows my compass hasn't always pointed true north in that respect -- ethically or from a "what's good for me" standpoint but... it's all I've got to go by.

With that in mind, we were happy in our bubble through January. Being young and hot and horned up is not the worst way to live your life. Being snowed in doesn't really make a difference when you barely want to leave your bed.

That changed on the 30th when we got word that one of Dakota's uncles had passed away.

The real Dakota, obviously, is not in a position to attend the funeral, but she asked that we go and try to comfort her mother who had just lost a brother. This involved helping a bit with logistics and providing food and just generally "being there." Koti and I both observed that it was weird to be so involved in the funeral plans for a man we'd never met, but it's all part of the role we play. We spent some time in Dakota's hometown where Koti did not want to let being under the same roof as her "parents" get in the way of our usual nightly routine (Sorry Mr. & Mrs. Culbert! Hope we weren't loud.)

The funeral was on the Wednesday morning. I wrote Dustin's only suit, Koti wore a black skirt with stockings and a cream-colored blouse with pearl earrings, looking very mature.

We went to the viewing, kept to ourselves, attended the service and about halfway through... Koti started to cry.

Obviously my instinct was to be there for her, provide tissues, but it was very strange. Koti is not an emotional person by nature (at least not outwardly) but here she was weeping at the death of a man she never knew.

I asked later how she was feeling and if she had anything she wanted to talk about, and she just snapped that it was right to cry at a funeral and to leave it alone. Fair enough.

The next day as we were packing to leave, she was feeling more open. She explained that it got her to thinking about death, of course, and how John's body is so close to the end, and she was wondering who we were going to die as. I reminded her that I was under the impression that she intended to go back to being John, and she kind of dismissed that as something that was nor guaranteed -- although she didn't explain whether that was because of her own doing or because the Inn does get its lines crossed sometimes.

"It's a little hypocritical," she said, "That you push me to get my body back, when you never went back for your own. What's stopping you from being Marc again? That was a choice you made, why don't I get to make the same?"

"I guess you've got me there," I said. "I left my body to someone who seems to enjoy it, and I guess... we're all just happier with the deal."

"You're happy like this?" she raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Not knowing who you'll be next year?"

I sighed. "Living as Marc was not healthy for me, and I feel like I can do more good like this."

"How nice for you," she said pointedly. "And living as John is supposed to be healthy for me?"

"Two and oh," I acquiesced. "I can't force you to go back to being yourself, but you're the one who has to live with the ramifications of that. Why do I get the feeling there's something you want to say?"

She got a faraway look in her eyes and smiled as if a happy thought had just occurred to her. "Just wondering about where it all goes. How we end up. What happily ever after looks like for people in our situation." 

"Uh huh," I nodded.

She reached down for my hand. Her little one in my big one. She felt my knuckles.

"Look at me," she said, gazing up at me. I looked down into her crystal blue-green eyes. Her lips curled up into a smile.

Then she said: "I want to marry you."

My heart, my stomach, my whole insides sank.

"Koti..." I could only say with a sight and a groan and a grunt all at once. "What are you talking about?"

"I know it sounds nutty, but hear me out. Whoever we become whatever we are supposed to be laer, we always keep each other first in our hearts and mind. That we find a way to commit to this, to each other, through whatever life makes us into. For lack of a better cognate... a marriage."

She went on with barely a breath, "I want purpose. I want pleasure. I want a destination. I want a home. We could be that for each other. In every life, every day, every year forward. Not as Dustin and Koti, but as Marc and John and whoever we become."

"You're not thinking clearly," I said.

"I'm seeing this more clearly than anything I've ever thought!" she continued, "I think it's meant to be! You found I, we found each other again, and we could be the only good thing in one another's life!"

"No... no...!" I protested, "It's not right! It's not fair to anyone. Even if you leave aside your life, your body, your old self, we don't know who we'll be in the future, we can't make any commitments."

"Yes, we can!" she insisted, holding my hand tighter by the fingers, "That's what commitment is, sticking to something even and especially when it's tough! You are worth committing to! Fate could toss us to opposite sides of the planet and I would get by knowing that I had you to find my way back to!"

"There's no way," I continued, "There's no way to do it, there are too many unknowns."

"That's what makes it right! To be each other's one certainty in an uncertain future! We can transcend the so-called curse... we already have!"

"Absolutely not," I said, pulling my hand back, "That's not what this is. This is what works for now and someday it won't and we both know that. Whether it's this summer or next, we have an end date."

"So did Mary and I," Koti said, seemingly having ended that marriage sometime between conversations -- possibly without Mary's knowledge. "That doesn't mean that was never real, and it doesn't mean that we aren't real. I love you, Marc."

"No, you don't," I said, with a huge lump in my throat. "You think that because it's easy and fun right now, but you and I both know -- or at least we should -- that this is not a permanent situation."

"Is it because you're afraid of commitment or because you don't love me?" she whimpered. I had hurt her. I'm not sure I've ever hurt John/Koti in that way in our lives.

"It's because we can't, and it would be insane to try," I repeated.

"It's insane to drift through life with nothing to hold onto, Marc. I give you purpose. Don't lose that. Don't forsake it. Don't throw it away."

Long silence.

"I'm sorry Koti," I said, a catch in my voice. "This is not how I see things going."

She set her jaw out. Now was a more recognizable version of Koti -- the pissed off one.

"Okay," she said. "Fine."

Tense ride back, and then every night since she has slept in Mary's room while I'm upstairs wondering just what the hell kind of future she sees for us... and what I see for myself.

-Marc/Dustin

PS: Let's not get into the irony of running to her literal wife when things get tough between us...

Tom/Kiara: A North Carolina Christmas and a Not-So-Happy New Year

You've got me at my more lucid. There are days I wander around barely able to string two coherent sentences together. The kid is mostly sleeping through the night but she still requires a lot of focus and energy. She's weaning, taking solid foods, but my body still produces milk. I've stopped feeding her on the breast but I do pump because it's a hell of a lot cheaper than formula. Overall I'm so emotional and dazed that it's hard to remember the time before I was here, before I was this. I feel a little broken in that sense. You haven't heard from me because I simply don't have the mental energy to write, which is like a form of death to my original identity.

I grouse, but there are times I don't hate it. I'd have to be made of stone not to see at least some of the beauty in giving and sustaining life, largely with my own body. There are times I think it's a miracle and I cry. There are times I think it's a curse, and I also cry. 

Christmas: There actually isn't all that much to tell. Most of Kiara's mom's attention went to the baby, as it frankly should, and then to the younger kids. I don't mind being a little "forgotten" -- I don't want to be here, I don't belong, and Kiara kind of forfeited any natural attention she should have gotten around the holidays when she added another mouth to the household.

I did get a couple of bucks from Grandma Kelly and some aunts. I told them I was going to buy concert tickets, which is half-true. I set some aside for an outing I was planning early in the New Year. I spent the rest on a rabbit, which was discreetly mailed to me a few days later.

Before you all drop your jaws to the floor and think I'm some kind of gross weirdo sex fiend for masturbating and then talking about it, let me explain my thinking. Kiara's body is prone to fairly intense period cramps. At least, they feel intense to me, a man who didn't grow up with this sort of thing. In my research, I learned that masturbation (or orgasming in general) can help ease these symptoms. I can confirm that it helps a little bit and feels very good overall, and hey, don't I deserve a little joy in this hectic life? Sexual gratification is a good thing, I don't think I'm the first reporter to break that story.

Over the Christmas break, I came to a few conclusions.

One was that I'm screwed. As determined as I was to keep working on my story, undaunted, I woke up in the middle of the night and it struck me how many cards my foe holds. I'm connected to way too many people and who knows how long their tentacles are? They did this to me, what could they do to my loved ones? Of course I mean the Nishimuras, but it's not like I'm callous to what could be done to my adoptive family as well. I don't just mean tricking people into going to the Inn and messing with their lives. There are plenty more ways to screw someone over.

The other was that if I can't convince the original Kiara to take her life back, then I have to keep it.

As much as I am very much not a natural at parenthood, I have been learning as I've gone along and I've adapted. There could be better people for this role but there could also be a lot worse and I see no reason to toss the coin on that. I'm not even worried about what becomes of me. I'm fully willing to take a chance with my own life. If you're well enough to go to the Inn there's a good chance I could stand being in your shoes, based on what I've done in the last six months. But for the baby, I won't take that chance. Only one person deserves this life more than me.

And that brings me to January 2. Just before the start of the new school session (we don't have "semesters", we have six-week sessions with two courses.)  I made an overnight trip over the state line to Knoxville. Armed with an ID from an older cousin who kinda-sorta looks like Kiara, I got into this dive-y honky tonk bar. I treated myself to a Miller Lite. I haven't drank a lot lately, not necessarily because of lack of access but because of the milk situation. The band took the stage at 9, and I was already kind of wiped but I stayed. The singer, Lisa Brown, was all decked out in a sparkly cowboy hat and boots, tight skirt, half-unbuttoned top. Pretty face. Wholesome but still kind of glamorous. If she had a stylist, they could probably really make her into something. I'm not saying the next Taylor Swift, but maybe she's got a future in this, you know? Good voice. Poised. I don't know a lot about music but I can spot a performer on the way to learning her craft, you know?

They played for a few hours. Mostly covers, some stuff I knew but a lot that the crowd sure did. Kacey Musgraves. Carrie Underwood. "I Miss Me More." They did a couple of original songs, which I didn't think much of. One was a ballad, it went "You changed me for the better / even though we're not together / Anymore..."

I hung around a while after the set. The crowd started thinning out. I ordered another Miller and asked the bartender if a $50 tip could help him facilitate an introduction to the band, because gosh I was so impressed.

I went back there and found the band. Lisa was on a couch, chatting closely with some short-haired woman, who I noted with academic disinterest, had huge breasts. The rest of the band were also busy, but pretty much all of them paused to take note of this strange creature that had just entered their space.

My eyes were fixed on Lisa, and hers on me.

Finally, I spoke, gushing. "Lisa, I just wanted to say, I'm a huge fan. I follow you on Instagram. I came all the way from __________ to be here tonight, ever heard of it?"

"Hm," she pondered, "I think I know where that is, maybe. That's pretty far."

"Oh, it was worth it," I grinned. "I was wondering if you were thinking of touring up north this summer? Maybe New England? ...Maine...?"

Lisa's eyes shifted to her friend as she drew in and held a breath, then back to me. "I don't know..." she hemmed in her very twangy, almost performative-sounding southern accent, "This is kind of our... home base. Not sure we have an audience up there."

"Oh, country's popular all over, you know," I smirked, "They're starved for a new act like you. I mean... weren't you living in that area as recently as last summer?"

She furrowed her brow. I could tell she was fuming. Embarrassed, she said, "Maybe we should talk somewhere private."

She kissed her friend on the cheek as she stood and led me to a quiet alcove near the back of the bar.

"How did you find me?" she hissed.

"It wasn't easy," I said. "There were a bunch of women's names in the guest book before yours, but most of them were accounted for. You -- or, Lisa -- only signed L.B. I had a lot of connections to wade through to try to figure out who that was. But from the handwriting I gathered it wasn't Larry Bronstein." When I found out that Lisa Brown of Providence, Rhode Island was now working as a singer in Tennessee, it wasn't hard for me to put two-and-two together. Kiara left a guitar and lots of music posters on her wall, journals full of lyrics attesting to her desire to get out of her one-horse town and try to make it big.

Then she got pregnant and it seemed like that dream was dead.

"How did you get to Maine?" I asked her.

She heaved a sigh, like she really didn't want to talk about it but felt cornered. "When Sierra was 3 months old, I was getting desperate. Not that I didn't love her. Not that I wasn't going to be a good mommy, but I could already see everything I wanted for life getting away from me. I was gonna have to drop out of school, learn cosmetology, and just... become my mom."

"Your mom wouldn't let you drop out of school, trust me," I said firmly.

"Whatever," she sneered. "I found an ad for this talent agent. I sent him some videos of me playing, which I now realize were horrible. He said they were great and there was a workshop he could get me into... in Maine."

"And there was no workshop."

"I guess not. The first night I was there I transformed into Lisa. A property manager from Providence. I figured, I've got a bit of money and freedom now, so long Rhode Island, and hit the road. Wound up here."

"Does anyone in your, uh... circle... know?"

"Jennette," she bobbed her head toward the back, "She was Byron, a 36-year-old computer something-or-other."

"You and her, uh...?"

"Yeah. Don't judge."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I said. "She's cute, if a little butch for me." 

"He's nice-- she's nice. Very grateful, you know?"

"Sure," I said, laughing darkly.

"You were a guy," she discerned. "You kinda sit like it."

"Yeah, well, I haven't put a lot of effort into debutante lessons," I said. I explained a bit more about who I was and how I came to be her.

Her face went cold. "So... what now?" She dropped the corny accent.

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" I said. "It doesn't seem like you're ready to go back."

"I'm really not. I've come too far to give up on my dream, Tom."

"How does the real Lisa Brown feel about you using her body to pursue your dream?"

"She's a CEO now," she shrugged. "Too busy to care."

"What about your little girl? You left her with a stranger. I could be anybody."

"You seem okay," she winced.

"That's not the point," I said. "I have to think about myself. I'm stuck mopping up after your mistake."

"Don't call her a mistake!" she hissed.

I fumed quietly at that. She had no right to be so defensive, in my opinion.

"Look," I said once I had my bearings, "It's clear you never meant to abandon her or anything. You were tricked like I was, like so many others were. You can have the life you were meant to have. And it's not like going back to being Kiara is going to ruin your chances of being successful."

"I can't do it as Kiara," she insisted, eyes darting around to make sure nobody was listening. "No offense, but look at you and look at me. This is my chance."

I gritted my teeth. I did not like the way this was going.

"Maybe... in a little while..." she said, tentatively, "When I'm stable, we could... I don't know.. share custody somehow."

"That's terrible and it makes no sense," I said instantly. "She needs stability, she needs a full-time mom, and where would Kiara even meet Lisa Brown?"

She became increasingly agitated. "Give me... two years. Two years to make it. Get a record contract. Get on my feet. Then... I'll adopt her! Yeah! Nobody will blame you, you're young and overwhelmed, and Jennette and I can't have our own anyway. She won't even remember this part of her life."

Regardless of whether this even made sense to consider, it turned my stomach. I was just supposed to nurse this baby through the hard times and then hand her over to someone who left her behind? Last summer she may have been tricked but this was her decision.

"I don't think I can agree to that," I said coldly. "Look. In a few weeks, I'm going to be able to book a room at the Inn. I'll book you after me. But if you don't tell me by Memorial Day that you're coming, I won't go either. And then this is over. You can't have it both ways, I'm sorry."

"You can't do this to me," she gulped, "That's my baby!"

"Yeah," I said, standing and downing the last of my beer, "I know."

I walked out of that bar into the cold, feeling like the ground had dropped out from under me. I had hoped for the best and tried to prepare myself for the worst, but it hit hard.

My future was starting to take shape.

-Tom, Kiara