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...
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