Arthur/Penny/Millie: It happened!

Got a photo of Harmon flexing in his underwear this morning, and I suppose that I should just be glad that he thought twice before deciding he doesn't want to start a new life with a 14-year-old girl going to the cops because of a dick pic, which Millie and I would have been tempted to do, because it seems reasonably certain he's going to keep that life rather than roll the dice again.  He says he won't, but he's selfish, and I suppose I should feel lucky that he didn't find my life too comfortable, which may have been entirely down to me, Ray, and Millie making it clear we didn't want him.  If he'd just landed in someone like Penny with a family that didn't know what was up? Entirely possible he figures Penny is older than Alicia, but in good-enough shape until he decides to go to the Inn again, with teacher/writer suiting his temperament better than flight attendant.

Anyway, that's a huge load off my mind.  Ray, Millie, and I are off to get bagels to celebrate. 

- Arthur/Penny/Millie

Arthur/Penny/Millie: ... No More Teacher's Dirty Looks!

Look, it was either that or "school's... out... forever!"

I started typing this in my home office at a reasonable 10:30AM and left the window open while I do other things all day.  It's just me in the apartment, because Ray is in the office and Harmon is at the school, grading the last finals and essays and attending some year-end meetings that have to be done in person.  Then, just like for the past week, he'll be driving up to the Trading Post Inn, except that he won't be driving back tomorrow morning, but just hanging around until he's no longer Penelope Lincoln Lee and I've got the chance to be myself again. 

There was a time I would have envied the year he's got in front of him; the luggage and letter that was there when he arrived is a stud who looks like he's spent a good chunk of his 18 years in the gym, accepted to a good college, nobody in particular to fool.  Probably got a huge dick, because some folks just have good luck fall into their laps. 

Which admittedly includes me; the last few years have been a bit tougher than expected, with Ray starting his own firm and having to get a full-time job because "midlist author" isn't quite the stable income it used to be, especially when you've got a kid with often-expensive hobbies.  Those are the most first-world of first-world problems, really (note to self: have not heard kids say "first-world problems" in the time I've been embedded among them).  I've been Penny long enough to have developed a certain world-view that it's maybe useful to have upended.

Not that I'm ever going to admit that the months of worry are a fair tradeoff for understanding Millie better.  Yes, one of the lasting lessons I've learned as a parent is that worry is what you spend to have a child you can be proud of; I've worried every time Millie hurt herself playing sports or spent the night at a friend's place or went to camp, and, boy, that time I watched her ride a bike out of my sight gave her her first T pass at 11 were crazy, but I do think she'll be a braver, more independent woman for it, and she got through an Inn experience that I suspect might have broken me had I visited the Inn at 13 and wound up a grown woman apart from my parents, mixed bag as they were - I might have been so lost that I might not have been able to conceive going back and being myself again, but Millie is still herself underneath the silly facial hair, and I'm grateful.

And, for all that this started with me expressing private frustration with relating to her because her genes weren't the ones that made me who I was, regardless of what I became later, I know for a fact that she is my daughter in all the ways that matter.  My instincts steered me well as her, and nobody ever told me I was acting weird.  Plus, she apparently took all the writing classes she could fit into Griff's schedule at school, not quite enough that he's going to come back to find he's minoring in journalism, but it shows that a lot of what drives both me and Ray is in there - just like the way she ran off to find the Inn, she wants to know things and communicate it and make them right, which is a big part of what drove me into writing and him into law.

Maybe this time will fade for her, or maybe she'll have a leg up on dealing with men and other adults as she grows older.  I kind of hope it's the first, but no kid comes out of something life-changing, literally or figuratively, unchanged.  She looks like she's doing well, but she deserves to be a kid and a teenager.

Speaking of which, today happens to be her/mine/our 14th birthday.  We're going to eat some garbage and watch the new Supergirl movie tonight, and then spend the weekend with her humiliating me at tennis and whatever other sports we can get to while she's got a 21-year-old male physique.  With any luck, we'll get a message from Harmon tomorrow about the Inn doing its thing, and we can look forward to changing back and being able to talk about everything.

-Arthur/Penny/Millie

Elias/Meadow: No cheat code, no hacks

I spent the rest of my time in Maine just trying to get used to walking around the world like this. I would have loved to go in the ocean, but after trying on Meadow's bikini, I thought "There is no way I can go out like this." I want to try new things, but let's build up to that, hm?

I did wear the swimsuit as underwear though. I mean, you're in a beach town -- bikini tops are bras for all intents and purposes, and I could cope with that under my clothes, rather than the actual ones I was left. My top layer was just a tank top and jean shorts. Them being like a 1" inseam is about as girly as I was ready to get, showing off these long, long legs.

Charlene/Ja'dejah braided my hair and advised on other things. I skipped putting on makeup because, well, would you? I look fine without it, but I've seen pictures of Meadow all done up and wow. Knowing I could look like that is messing with my head.

So we did the town -- Jennie, Jeff, Charlene and I. Ricky even joined us for dinner, grumbling the whole time but at least showing the best side of himself I've seen. I could tell that I was getting a lot of looks. Coming from being a small guy, I don't tend to shrink myself, so I guess people aren't used to seeing a tall girl clomp around like she's, well, exactly 5'11.

If anyone hit on me, I'm too dumb to notice, but having such a big group was probably a shield.

We had a benefit, in that Meadow, Stella and Darla became locals, a middle-aged couple in their 40s and their high school-aged daughter. I went and saw Meadow at her new place of work and we sat down to lunch.

"I'm so sorry for staring," she said, "I just... I'm not used to it yet, you know? You ever look at a picture of yourself and feel embarrassed because all you see is your flaws? Well, this is the opposite of that. I feel like I'm seeing what other people see when they see me... it's... I mean, I'm gagged."

Is gagged good? I made a note to check later.

She said she could tell I was a guy. My posture, my bearing. I asked her if I should try to be more feminine, and she said she honestly didn't know. "You should be whoever you feel like you are."

She said she wanted to be there for me, but she couldn't run my life for me. I said it was my #1 priority to get things back to normal for her, so I didn't want to screw things up badly. but it was also my mission to taste life, and I was going to try to have fun and not sit in a bedroom and cry. She admitted that sounded fine.

She asked about getting myself back to normal. I said that was also a goal. But privately, I've read a bit of this blog and I'm seeing that sometimes people just will not give you your body back. I'm a 21-year-old guy with no attachments. I think there are a few people who would take that and run, which is scary... and really puts into perspective how much I should have tried to do with my life. (Hey, I was trying, I just got sidetracked into this!)

She said she would send me some job opportunities she thought I could do with her resume. She literally just moved into an apartment and making rent is going to be tricky.

I had to leave for Massachusetts soon after. Jennie and Ricky too, since Stella was there for the same reason as Meadow was, and Darla is her sister who came along for the vacay. That means Jennie also needs to find work, and Ricky... I don't know what he's got to do.

Oh, and then the minute I got in the door of my "new" apartment, I went to the bathroom and discovered a trickle of blood down my leg. Meadow has a supply of tampons, but I'm really not keen to try to get those "in there" so I had to go to the pharmacy and figure out how to navigate the feminine care aisle. I bought the pack with the bunch of different sizes, but so far I've only needed the light ones.

I sure didn't feel "sexy" like that! But hey, that's life for half the population, right? (Or whatever percent gets periods, I'm too tired to do the math.)

Toby: Dunia's a Different Sort of Alicia

Vacation's been over for a few weeks, although it never felt like one because of the FBI (somehow not the craziest thing to happen to me in the past year), so I've been back in the air, which is a weird sort of relief.  There's something claustrophobic and scary about being on an airplane, sure, but faced with the prospect of that couple days I was being held running much longer, it's kind of nice to get on a plane in one place and off it somewhere else, regularly, even if you don't often make it out of the airport.  Even better when you're spending time with Dunia and Rosa. 

Rosa was surprised to see us again (or "again" in Dunia's case).  Most flight attendants don't really like the short shuttle routes like Miami-Atlanta, so they tend to try and get longer, less frantic ones on bigger planes as soon as they get some seniority, but since Lambert and I figured there would be a new Alicia and Dunia would need some experience, it would be better to start them off the same way we had.  There's enough flights that we didn't necessarily figure they'd be paired with Rosa again, even though she planned to stick to that route indefinitely because she has family in both cities, so we mentioned her in our letters and said good luck. 

She was happy to see us, at least, and was kind of surprised when Dunia-Alicia wanted to join us for lunch in the food court, then ordered a salad, and then chuckled a little when someone commented on how well my butt filled my uniform in Spanish.  She literally asked Dunia who she was and what she'd done with Alicia, because she was usually kind of bossy and hard to get along with, but Dunia just shrugged and said she didn't know what to say.  Most people are going to figure people change for regular reasons rather than from some crazy curse.  Still, after she walked off to take a call, we were both like "Oh my god, she said the thing!"

She's also picked up the job really quick, which is to be expected, since she had been studying the same employee handbook I tried to memorize in a few days for weeks before going to the Inn, Lambert left fairly useful notes, and I guess I've been paying enough attention to give her pointers when she needed them.  She doesn't have a lot more responsibilities as purser than I do (she handles the checklists and it's usually the one to pick up the intercom to either make announcements or talk to the Captain, which is fine with me, and does some paperwork after we land), and she seems to be doing fine. 

I did kind of laugh when she stayed following Rosa's example of wearing heels in the airport and during boarding but switching to flats before takeoff, leading me to ask if she was trying to land a pilot or some fancy CDC doctor.  She blushed, saying that as far as she knew she still had a boyfriend, but that when she imagined herself doing this as a girl and especially since last year, she was sexy as opposed to just capable.  That' didn't quite become a conversation about how I presented myself, although she's helped me refine my makeup skills a bit while asking how I (in my capacity as a secret white guy) think she's doing with her new skin tone.  She actually finding it kind of annoying because Alicia is a pretty pale Eastern European girl and I guess it's kind of easy to wind up looking like a clown with the wrong amount of blush, and she's apparently dealing with noticeable tan lines for the first time.

We hang out after work a lot more than Lambert and I did, too, and while the friends I inherited from Dunia seem to think it's a bit odd, they've started to warm up to her, which is funny, although I kind of split my time more than having the whole group of us hang out as a group.  She's trying to connect with her roommates, but it's slow going, given how apparently both Harmon and Lambert didn't want to be there.

I'm just glad that we get along so well!  Sure, Dunia and I have been friendly since last year and she seemed excited to meet me in person, but I don't know that I'd be able to be around Gerard as much as she's around me without telling him that he's doing me wrong.  And I might be doing that a lot - sure, he got left with a great big gap to explain, but it's really causing trouble with Mom and my friends at home, and I guess it makes Dunia appreciate my trying not to leave a mess, because I'm sure going to have one to clean up next year.

-Toby/Dunia

Arthur/Penny/Millie: When Will This School Year End?

I try not to fall into the trap of thinking my life experience is more universal than it actually is - the Inn will disabuse you of that notion very quickly - but I feel like I should be out of school by now.  When I was growing up, the school year basically ran the day after Labor Day to a couple weeks into summer, every year, everywhere.  I'd heard that maybe it was different in the extremes - like, Minnesota would have a long winter break and start a little earlier/end a little later - but not too much so.  When you watched TV, it was basically like that on every show with kids and school.

And yet, for my first year back in public school in 25 years or so, it started around then but I'm there until the 25th of June, and that's without much in the way of snow days.  They don't have many of those any more, between climate change and all the tele-learning infrastructure that was built during the pandemic, and it's driving me nuts.

And it's not like this everywhere - on some places, it's weirder!  I'm on a group chat with other authors, and one of them who lives in Texas says her kids' school year ended the week before Memorial Day, so they had to take their summer vacation the week off the holiday because the kids' summer activities start on June 1st, when I've still got three weeks to go. 

Would I have been this annoyed by it if I were in my natural role of teacher/parent?  Probably not, I admit.  It's normal for Millie, as much as anything is (she's had two out of eight years disrupted by a pandemic, so what's normal?), and a couple years ago, I was getting used to having a scheduled job rather than being freelance, so it didn't seem too long.  I did kind of notice kids staring out the window a bit more on nice days as a teacher, and I'm sure doing it right now.  Granted, I've been doing it all year, but I'm maybe even more fidgety now.  Kid attention span when you know some of your teachers are playing out the string is a heck of a thing. 

On top of that, the delay is driving the whole group of us nuts.  Millie has been at a complete loose ends ever since Griff's academic year ended, because there really isn't anything to fill her time with, and it's stayed to really get awkward with the "girlfriend".  My daughter is only just about to turn 14, and she's had crushes, but by and large attraction is new to her, and six months or so is about when someone who has been to the Inn starts to really acknowledge that the gender identity, sexual orientation, and hormones they've inherited are something to be accepted rather than fought.  So she's got the urges of a 20-year-old man who spends a lot of time with someone with the appearance of that boy's girlfriend who has spent most of the past year looking out for him, and, yes, I do freak out every time I see Emilia and Rusty talk about how quickly Katey started hooking up with that grown man at right about this point!

So we've been doing what we can to keep her busy.  Ande apologizes for not helping out more now that he knows, but we don't blame him for wanting to spend as much time with his girlfriend as possible before she's off on her internship.  I try to get her over at the house as much as possible to read and study with me so she won't be very far behind when she starts school again in the fall, and I like to think it's centering for her, seeing that her life is being tended to and that I'm there to help.  Harmon creeps her out, though, so she's been spending a few nights out with Ray. 

It's annoying that we're dealing with Harmon this long, which is another artifact of the long school year.  Since he doesn't plan on becoming Alicia again, we decided to basically run a month behind with a broken "thread", which means that Millie's current "roommate" is heading to the Inn tomorrow, as is Harmon, even though they were a month apart last summer.  Harmon is going to be doing a daily round trip like Toby and Lambert did, although thankfully without flying to Miami and back, heading north at around 4pm or 5pm, then setting a 4am alarm so she can be at school the next day.  By the time it's my turn to head up, school will be out, so we won't have to do around much. 

Suffice it to say, we are all really, really ready to get things back to normal! 

- Arthur/Penny/Millie

Elias: Meadow

Can I tell you a secret?

At first, I kind of thought this is cool.

From the first time I saw my new face in the mirror, with its bright blue eyes, soft chin and round cheeks. Overnight my short dark hair grew long and blonde... and everything else changed! I guess most people would be horrified but I thought it was the coolest thing that had ever happened.

Okay, I'm a girl now. I've touched/looked at this and that and those to confirm, although there isn't much of those to speak of. I mean, I never thought "I want to be a girl" before, but as a boy you do sometimes wonder what it's like, right? And then magically overnight, zap... once in a lifetime opportunity, right? Magic is real, and it did this. Could be fun!

The weirdest part is that I went from being a 5'3 guy to a 5'11 girl. I'm tall and thin, I feel like I'm going to fall over. I feel like Bambi learning to walk, you know? Everything is thrown off. My Garfield High wrestling tee still fits though, and the elastic of my boxers works okay with these hips. (The emptiness in the front is...a little strange to say the least!) 

I sure took it better than Ricky. He threw a big damn fit, basically accusing Jennie of making it happen even though it happened to her too. Once I saw what was going on there, and with Jeff and Charlene -- make that Rakim and Ja'dejah -- I started to get a better sense of what was really happening. Eventually, after Jeff tried to calm him down and Charlene brought Jennie/Stella to her room, Ricky/Darla took off, and didn't return until late. God only knows what he got up to, in a woman's body dressed like a man.

Poor Jennie, Darla's body is twice her age and her figure is a little rounder. To go from a teenager to a 30-year-old is definitely a double-edged sword. Maybe she can get away from Ricky but... I mean, I'm only 21 and I already know it's not easy out there "adulting."

It was around the time we started reading our letters it dawned on me that this isn't exactly a joyride. There are people counting on us to be them.

I've become Meadow Nilssen, 24, of Springfield, Massachusetts. She had come to Maine for a nursing conference. I feel really bad because after she transformed, the first thing she did was quit her job, knowing that she'd be fired for taking extra time away anyway, and because it's not the kind of thing you can just leave to a stranger. (I've taken first aid courses and all but it's not like I could do that work!) I've already reached out to let her know that her life is in good hands and she can ask me anything she likes about who I am and advise me.

I'm trying to put the hard parts out of my mind for now. Tomorrow I'm going to actually put on some of Meadow's clothes and spend a day walking around as her, try to enjoy the rest of my vacation before I have to face "the real world."

I guess that makes me Elias/Meadow from now on to you!

Isaac/Ainsley: What Once Was

10:05 at the Lounge and that creature still hadn't shown itself. I was left with only Heather for company-- Heather, who I'd ignored since the previous night's events to take a couple of sleeping pills, vanish from consciousness, and then stay holed up in my room until absolutely necessary.

"Seriously, Isaac, I had no idea-- I let that fucking maniac into my bed, I'm so--"

"It's not your fault," I sighed. "I never showed you what my body looks like. Not that any of my old pictures would've had a strong resemblance to that."

"Still. I feel-- on Tinder it said his name was Kurt!"

"Oh my God. Kurt?! Really? You fell for that!?"

"What, don't look at me like that-- he told me his parents named him after Kurt Cobain! Lots of people did that! I was gonna name my oldest Kurt but my ex wasn't having any-- Oh, so you do know who Nirvana is?"

"Okay, I--" We were interrupted by Heather's phone going off on the table in front of her. Incoming call from: "Kurt". Heather made a face and picked it up, putting it on speaker.

"Hey ladies. You at the booth I mentioned?" asked Marvin's voice. (It sounds nothing like mine, at least, not how I remember it.)

"Think so. Where are you?" I was perfectly fine to let Heather do the talking.

"Oh, nah, I'm not coming in. This is more of a pit stop, I just want to make sure you two see something. Set the stage a bit." I rolled my eyes. "But yeah, if you look at the wall opposite to the bar counter, about head height, you'll see a band pic that's just two guys. Got it?"

I didn't get it. Heather and I, already frustrated not even sixty seconds into the ordeal of interacting with Marvin, looked around at any of the band photos in the vicinity. "You mean the one where they're both wearing these colorful... bodysuit things?"

"What? No. It's somebody else."

"Somebody Else played out here? I saw them in Albany when they were active like ten, fifteen years ago. I thought they only stuck to Canada and the Northeast--"

"Heather, what are you talking about?" I muttered.

"Whoever that is, it's not them. It's just two guys. In normal clothes. Really skinny guy in overalls and a bigger guy with facial hair. It's not that hard."

I noticed a photo with two men matching Marvin's description, posed together onstage, closer to my side of the booth. They appeared fairly young, and happy, though the bigger one looked like he was having the time of his life and the skinny one seemed a lot calmer about it.

I pointed the photo out to Heather. "Green overalls?" She asked her phone.

"Yeah." Marvin rather uncharacteristically paused for a few moments. "Okay, we're good here. Meet me outside and we'll talk." Marvin hung up, and Heather and I glanced at each other as we headed for the exit.

We found him in the parking lot, leaning against his oversized rental SUV like he's gonna wake up in somebody else's seventies again if he spends a single second not trying to convince himself he's cool. He wasn't any easier for me to look at than the night before.

"You guys get a good look? Cool. I got one more place to show you, and then I'll actually get to the point and talk about why I'm doing all this shit, I swear."

Heather crossed her arms. "Uh huh, and what is this place?"

"It's a while away but it's just off the highway. It'll make more sense when--"

I tried looking at him, almost. "You're expecting us to just trust that we can blindly follow you? You're not even gonna tell us where this is?"

"*You're* not the one in position to demand things from *me* right now, okay? But, I get it, it's pretty sketch. That's why I'm asking you to follow me in your own car instead of doing the whole 'get in the car now, no time to explain' bit. If I'm lying and I end up driving you up to an abandoned warehouse or something you're free to fuck right off. And I'm not gonna hurt you. You outnumber me, I bet Heather's got mace on her or something, and besides. I don't have anything against Ainsley."

We got in the car and followed him.

"A while away" turned out to be over an hour down I-10, west of the city, well into the pitch-black desert. The highway narrowed to two lanes in either direction. Heather drove-- she told me this wasn't her first car chase and I'm inclined to believe her. I confirmed with her that Marvin's intuition was right and she had, in fact, brought pepper spray.

"I don't like this one bit," Heather said once we'd crossed the point where the only sign of civilization's existence became the highway itself. "This is some true crime BS. 'Two young women follow a jilted man obsessed with their bodies out into the desert for some reason'? Really? Do we want to be that stupid? Mace isn't gonna do us any good if he's got a gun."

"Even if he actually wanted to kill us," I replied, staring into the darkness, "I don't get how he'd do it without ruining things for himself. He keeps talking about stealing my body, you think he'd want to make that body a wanted criminal? And he's not gonna run back to the Inn and make it someone else's problem, he keeps talking about how much he hated most of the bodies he's had."

"There's your problem; you're assuming whatever he's doing has to make sense. If anything he did made sense, and he still wanted to steal your body, he would've just gone no-contact with you. And he definitely wouldn't have shown up here. Maybe he's just crazy. You sure you don't wanna bail?"

I looked at my lap. "Not following him is a risk, too. He's holding me hostage. I don't blame you for not wanting any part of this, it's not... It's not your fight, really." I felt bad that I never even suggested that Heather go home and let me follow Marvin himself. Everything is all lined up with the woman in her body, and they're communicating regularly. She could go to Maine without me, if it came to that.

Heather said nothing. But once Marvin slowly decelerated in front of us, she followed in turn, and she didn't leave him behind when he pulled over on the highway's left shoulder.

Marvin exited the SUV, hands up and pockets inside-out. We watched without leaving the car. "Evening, officers, is there anything I can do for you?" He joked. "But seriously. I know what this looks like, and I'm saying again, it's not. So get out the car and let's talk."

Despite what I'd said, leaving the car felt like an insane idea. But Heather and I glanced at each other, and I think the tipping point was being too curious for our own good at why on Earth he'd take us to this specific place. She left the car, and I climbed out through the driver's side rather than open the passenger door any closer to the highway.

Marvin walked us down the highway, around fifty feet from our cars. All of us had our phone flashlights on. The entire time since I first arrived in Phoenix I'd never left its massive sprawl before now. The world became void, its only features the stars far greater than any I'd seen in Phoenix or Charlottesville or the NoVA suburbs, and the occasional shrub I had to avoid tripping over. Every so often the void was disturbed by the roar and blinding lights of a car speeding through the darkness, breaking the illusion of nothingness for just long enough to remind me of my own fragility.

Finally we came upon a spot about ten feet off the highway with an angled pole sticking out of the ground, and Marvin stopped. There were objects scattered around the pole-- album covers, cards held down with rocks, figurines, a handpainted tile, a couple framed photos of the same two guys from the Lounge, covered in dust. The highway next to us bore a large, unsettled scar in the pavement, clearly old but obvious nonetheless. There was a moment of silence.

"This is the spot where they died," Marvin spoke. "They and their tour manager, about seven years ago. They'd just left the Lounge and were driving off for their next gig. Drunk driver going full speed the wrong way on the highway. It was instant, you see that shit on the road?"

"What does that have to do with--"

"They were your-- they were Ainsley and Sara's ages, just about. But they did something with their lives, in that short time-- way more than you, or Ainsley or Sara. Or me at that age. It's the kind of thing that when you hear about it you go, man, I haven't done shit with my life. I thought I was kind of a fuck-up when I went to the Inn. My girlfriend dumped me. Said I was 'behaving toxically'. Okay. Fine. We'd just moved in together a few months before and she bailed and stiffed me with the rent. But I was doing pretty good besides that, y'know? I went to the gym and thru-hiked when I could get the time off and had friends I'd get drunk with and go to Vegas with and they'd invite me to their bachelor parties and... Yeah, a lot of them dropped off when they had kids, but I had a pretty good thing going."

"Then I found a nice vacation deal in Old Orchard Beach and it all got taken away from me over and over and over again. The thing with waking up four decades older and some dickbag stealing your body is you start obsessing over how good you used to have it and how much you'd do with it if you somehow got it back, and you feel like you wasted your life now that you're stuck and everything's just over, and you can't live up to the potential you knew you had. It's contradictory, but that's what it's like. You two are the lucky ones! Especially you," he pointed at Heather. "But at least you know it. But you?" Marvin looked me in the eye, a gesture just barely visible past the glow of the flashlights. "You only think you know it."

"God, man, I was so happy to wake up a college kid instead of yet another retiree. And I felt kinda guilty about it-- yeah, hard to believe, I get it. I was gonna do it the right way. Adjust to your life, try not to fuck it up, enjoy it while it lasts, go back to Maine and pray I land somewhere long-term with an expiration date that's not in the next couple of decades. But when I got into it, there's hardly anything about your life to adjust to. Besides being able to actually walk and move and see and hear without hurting anything after five seconds, that's all great, but that's not you. Other than that it's just the accounting classes. Bro, you don't do anything! Your letter was tiny! The only obligation you even have outside of classes is watering a couple of plants. Like, was I missing something the whole time? Do you just take your parents' money, sit in that dorm room all day, and rot? I kept thinking there had to be some weirdness, something I'd missed, but there wasn't shit! I looked at you in the mirror every day and I, I started to hate you. You have every advantage in the world and you choose to just exist. What's wrong with you?"

I don't know if Marvin expected a response from me, but Heather gave him one. "Do not," she said, making herself as big as Sara could, "talk to my friend that way. You don't fucking get to take out your personal issues with getting your life stolen on him. I signed up to listen bullshit from adults who still don't know any better when I took a job at a high school, he didn't. You got unlucky. But there's guys your age who get cancer and I never hear about them going around telling 20-year-old kids they're wasting the gift of life. So tough shit."

"Oh really? You're going to say that?" Marvin sneered. "That's rich. I should just accept it. Tell me, all year, you really never once thought about some way you'd get to keep that body? Not stealing it, no, never, you're too kind for that. But that's not the only way it could happen, can it?"

Heather flinched.

"Why, there's so many ways! You don't even have to hope the real Sara dies in a convenient freak accident. She could just... have something come up, and then she asks you to bodysit for another year since it's better than risking anyone worse. But, nah, even that's gonna make you too guilty, right? So you think about what if she wants to stay! It happens all the time on that blog! Some kid gets knocked up and wants to keep the baby? Congratulations, give up that rusty old retiree body of yours and start all over at eighteen! Girl you're in falls in love with her new body's previous owner? Throw away a lifetime of scholarship and slut your way into being a homewrecker no matter how many times you tell yourself it's just temporary! A beautiful, single twenty-something fresh out of college in the big city gets a life that's apparently better, refuses to elaborate, and leaves? It's all yours!! We like to think we're just too good to steal a body, but you imagine it just... ending up that way and it not being your fault, don't you. For it to just kinda happen that way, so you have to reluctantly accept the burden of getting to be young and hot again. And it doesn't matter that all that youth comes from somewhere else, it fell into your lap anyway, right? For everyone who won the lottery there's just as many people who got permanently fucked into an old one-- at least the ones who die suddenly while they still think they get to go back don't have to live with it! And people like that, they seem to be a lot less talkative on the blog, huh. Maybe they just don't have the energy for it anymore, not at their age. That's what it's like for the rest of us, either we give up and die or we turn into that GIF of those old people at a casino hitting the slot machines all day. That's terrible, you feel bad for them, sure. But why go back to the Inn? There's no need to donate a decade or two to the beggars, right? There's so much that can go wrong. You might as well donate a kidney to a stranger, or sell your house to buy malaria nets. The people who do it are saints, but you're not gonna do it. There's no need. You're free to imagine getting what you've always wanted, but without asking for it, so you don't have to take responsibility for wanting it. To be young, and free from your mistakes, and wild again, going to concerts and being hot and getting high and having one-night stands with whatever hot college boy from out of state catches your eye. Or am I wrong, Heather, and you're too good to even catch yourself dreaming?"

No response from Heather besides a clenched fist and a silence which spoke for itself. Marvin turned back to me. "But anyway. I was gonna say... The more I got to know you, the more it felt like you were living life already dead. Like I could do better. You were barely occupying your own body, after all, and every day it got harder to look at. The potential you're just not using. So why shouldn't I change things? And I did. Isaac Strauss has a life now. He takes care of himself. He's getting jacked. He gets laid. He has actual friends who like having him around and do cool shit with him. Your 21st birthday was wild, by the way. His parents look more and more relieved every time they see all the progress he's made. But dammit man, no matter what I do with your body there's no escaping the old you, is there. Nothing's ever enough. I keep building and building and I still have to look at your face every day in the mirror and it, I just hate it. It's like it's mocking me, somehow. It's disgusting. I wanna pull a Nic Cage and just... take it off."

With every word Marvin spoke his breath grew heavier and Isaac Strauss' voice raspier. He stared, manically, at somewhere between me and the ground. It was the most utterly alien I'd seen that body yet, sweating and pushed to the limits and in a terrible passion. Or, that's the impression I had, even if my eyes hadn't been blurry the darkness made it so difficult to tell aside from the occasional passing headlights, so I had to fill in the blanks myself.

He'd paused long enough that it felt like he finally expected me to say something. "I hate it... I hate it too. Seeing my body look like this," I said, barely audible over even the distant cars, let alone the closer ones. Trying to reason with him over the whole scope of his rant felt pointless. "So if you really agree... You know where to go in July."

"Dealing with seeing your face in in the mirror beats seeing an eighty-year-old's. Look, I'm gonna be honest. Keeping your body was never the plan, and it still isn't. I really don't wanna be responsible for someone else getting hit with what I've been through. But that doesn't mean I don't think about doing it every waking moment. Trying to do the math in my head to get something that means I get to live again. You wanna know the real reason I came out to Phoenix, besides showing you what your life and body are capable of with someone who knows how to use them? I wanted win an argument with myself. I let all this shit I've been thinking out at you without getting you so mad that you throw your own body onto the highway and add to the death count at this exact spot. And now I want you to tell me. Man to man. How do I know I'm not gonna hand this perfectly good body over to the walking dead?"

I don't want to know how long it took for me to say anything to that.

"It's... It's not fair. It's not fair! You come in here with this... this whole speech, you hold my body hostage so you can shit all over me for all this time almost uninterrupted... And you expect me to--" I almost said thank you but got scared. "--to just. Defend myself? Write a cover letter for my own life? It's not..."

I sat down on the ground, balling myself up, totally uncaring of all the sand and dust and car exhaust that'd get on my jeans. "I-I can't take it anymore," I spoke quietly, through tears. "Everyone keeps telling me they can live life better than me... that I'm wrong... whether they think I'm Isaac or Ainsley. I've always been... behind other people, but I... Yeah. I don't know how to live my life. But that doesn't mean anyone's got the right to make me do it their way!!"

I tried to look Marvin in the eye. "I want to grow vines on the window of my dorm... I want to hug my parents again... and I want everyone to stop looking at me. That's all I'm good for. And if you think I need to be like those guys in that band, or Kurt Cobain, or Tupac or whoever, or a thousandth of that to not waste my life, then... that's all I can tell you. I'm sorry." After that I put my head in my arms and never looked back at him.

"Well, I hope you're happy," I heard Heather say, with a gentle but firm tug on my arm. "I hope your little vent session was worth it, I really do. But if you really think we're the same, Marvin, you need to realize that no matter what I'm tempted by, I would never do that to Sara. Torture her just because I feel that awful about doing the right goddamn thing and I want an award for it. C'mon Isaac, get up. We're leaving. He said he's giving it back. You don't owe him another second to indulge himself."

"Oh, I don't need you for that." Marvin snapped. "I've got another few weeks left in this, before I have to go. I'm not gonna waste it, I know how to enjoy myself. Maybe the original owner should try it sometime."

I didn't give him the dignity of a response. Heather and I returned to the car, she helped me into the passenger seat from the driver's side and drove us off, able to make it up to speed from the left shoulder without any problems. We were silent the way back through the desert, I stared blankly up at the windshield, leaning back in the chair, trying to fade from existence. It almost worked, but whenever we passed someone going the opposite direction the headlights would catch my eye, and I'd flinch just slightly, holding on to every tether, and imagine how I'd have felt about my life up to now if it'd been me on this stretch of highway west of Phoenix seven years ago.

Kiara: Coffee

May 26, 2026

Donovan 9:03 PM: We should find some time to talk, I guess.

May 27, 2026

Donovan 4:10 PM: Is this a game to you? You're just going to pretend like nothing's wrong?

Donovan 5:15 PM: You can't just ignore me, this is a problem.

Kiara 7:15 PM: I'm not ignoring you, I'm just really busty.

Kiara 7:16 PM: *busy

Kiara 7:16 PM: busty too but that has nothing to do with it

Donovan 7:21 PM: Not appropriate.

Kiara 7:24 PM: Sorry, my smartass streak has gotten me in more trouble than you could ever imagine

Donovan 7:25 PM: Bet I could

Kiara 7:26 PM: No, you really can't.

Kiara 7:27 PM: We should talk in person though. I could probably do coffee tomorrow night at the cafe where we first met.

Donovan 8:01 PM: No way. Nowhere in town. Can't be seen with you.

Kiara 8:05 PM: Ooh clandestine.

Donovan 8:09 PM: How about [redacted location two towns over]?

Kiara 8:15 PM: I don't think I can get there, at least not tomorrow.

Donovan 8:19 PM: When then?

Kiara 8:22 PM: Maybe the weekend.

Donovan 8:24 PM: Why so long? We need this resolved soon.

Kiara 8:25 PM: Personal stuff. Obligations.

Donovan 8:27 PM: I'm just supposed to pretend you're a normal student until then?

Kiara 8:28 PM: I am a normal student.

Donovan 8:31 PM: [Redacted] 3:00 PM.

Kiara 8:32 PM: K.

May 30, 2026

Donovan 3:03 PM: I'm here, are you close?

Kiara 3:06 PM: Sorry, can't make it.

Donovan 3:09 PM: Are you freaking kidding me? you couldn't tell me before I drove all the way out here?

Kiara 3:10 PM: Last minute. Something came up. Was literally out the door.

Donovan 3:13 PM: Seriously??

Kiara 3:15 PM: I could do tomorrow.

Donovan 3:16 PM: I'm helping a friend move tomorrow.

Kiara 3:17 PM: Ew

Kiara 3:17 PM: Sorry, that was uncalled for.

Donovan 3:18 PM: I can't wait another week to talk to you and I can't risk seeing you in town.

Kiara 3:31 PM: Monday, 7 PM, same spot. I promise I can make it.

June 1, 2026

Kiara 6:58 PM: I am now walking through the door to [redacted]

I wasn't lying or trying to put him off, my life really just is that hectic. There isn't always childcare available, even with so many theoretical options, and besides, prideful ole me doesn't like relying on others. On this night I was able to hand Sienna off to Jen and get the car, a rare alignment of the planets. I order a decaf mocha frappe and join Donovan, who has changed from his plaid button-down to an old hoodie with a skate shop logo on it.

"So," I said, "What did you think of my response to the reading today?"

"Please no school talk," he rolled his eyes. "I'm here to try to convince you to drop my class."

"Oh, well that's not happening," I snorted.

"Kiara, there's a huge conflict of interest here," he hissed. "For God's sakes you're... I mean, you're over 18, right?"

"You didn't do anything illegal, don't worry," I said wryly.

"I can't be expected to grade you fairly if... if..."

"If what?"

"If we have that kind of relationship."

"We don't have that kind of relationship," I said. "We hooked up once. Before you were my teacher. It's not going to happen again, trust me."

"That... that doesn't matter," he stammered (possibly disappointed?) "I'm compromised here. We have a history."

"Just make like Men in Black and erase it from your memory, okay? It was a blip. Pretend that date ended with a handshake."

"I can't do that. Believe me, I want to."

"Yeah, me too," I snickered. He did not care for that.

"I thought you were in college," he sneered. "You lied."

"Hey, I had a high school textbook out when you met me. Not my fault you didn't clock that. What was I supposed to do, show you my student ID? You didn't ask any follow-ups."

"You made it very clear we weren't sharing personal details. I was trying to be respectful. I didn't realize you were trying to trap me."

"What trap? If I laid a trap, I'd be trying to catch my Adult Ed English teacher? I just didn't want to talk about my personal life."

"And why not? Why are you in ALC instead of regular high school anyway? Are you into drugs? Crime?"

"Well, that's none of your damn business."

His silence seemed to cede my point.

I went on: "Donovan, I can assure you, this is all just some crazy mishap. We can forget it, move forward like last week was the first time we laid eyes on each other. I am no more a conflict than any other 18-year-old girl you might teach."

"Kiara. Drop the course. Please. You can take it with a different instructor in the fall."

"I don't want to. There's no more open courses that I qualify for and I want to graduate pronto."

I took a long sip on my frap and glared at him.

"I can't quit teaching this course," he said.

"Nobody's asking you to."

"You're being selfish."

"I have that right," I said. "I checked. There's no code about this, and you can't induce me to drop the course. This is purely about your own conscience."

"Yeah, and?"

"You don't think you can be objective about me?"

"Do you think I can be objective about you? If you fail the course, are you going to say it's because I was being spiteful?"

"Well, yes, because I'm actually going to ace the course."

"That's very presumptuous."

"It's frickin' high school writer's craft, Don," I chortled. "Even if I was one of the other burnt-out meth-heads in the class, I'd still be able to pull at least 55. You fail me, and everybody will know what's up."

He took a deep breath and I watched his jaw clench.

"It would be so much easier if you just dropped the class."

"Life is not easy, Donovan," I said, glaring directly into his eyes. "I know that better than anyone you've ever met."

He huffed. "You're 18, Kiara. You have no idea what the world is like out there."

That made me laugh. He asked what was so funny, and I had to say "I really wish I could explain it, but it's better if you don't know. Just don't go around assuming you know other peoples' stories."

With that, we parted.

June 2, 2026

I got an 89 on my response. Personally I think it was at least a 90, but I won't kick up a fuss. I mean, it was an examination of "Hills Like White Elephants" for crying out loud. You get a 75 just for writing the word "iceberg."

-Kiara

Elias: Lucky

As I was sitting on the beach this morning -- dipping my feet in the ocean and watching the last moments of sunrise -- I got to thinking how lucky I am.

Maybe people wouldn't think I'm lucky. I grew up with one parent and no money. All my Christmas gifts came from Savers. We moved around a few times a year, sometimes to real rat holes. But I was never unhappy. And I was always ready for anything. I saw kids have their whole lives upended because their parents split or someone lost a job, and for me that was just life! I didn't have time to feel bad about it.

Because my mom gave me such a good life, I passed up the opportunity to go to college to spend as much time as I could with her. I can go back to college anytime but I only had one mom. I have no regrets about any of that.

I'm lucky to be here and I'm lucky to be me. Because if I wasn't, I might have ended up like that girl I saw in the parking lot after I arrived. She had to be about 16 or 17 at the most wearing short shorts and a tank top. She was struggling with her bag and I offered to lend a hand, and she passed it over. That's when I heard a sharp voice from the front door of the Inn: "Don't give that to him!"

I tried to say "It's really no problem sir," but he interrupted and repeated his command for me to give it back to her. I reluctantly did so and she lugged it into the hotel. As she walked by him, he hissed in a voice loud enough for me to hear, "Little sl**."

Now that's not fair at all. Regardless how much skin she's showing, it's the middle of summer, she has the right to dress how she wants. I get the feeling this man thinks his daughter is being sexual just by having a a body, let alone how she chooses to show it. But I was respectful and pretended I didn't hear.

Later, the girl -- Jennie -- came and found me while I was having my tuna for lunch in the sun. She explained that that man was her stepfather Ricky, and that they had moved from Delaware to Maine to be close to her mom, who was in a correctional facility nearby, but their new place wasn't ready yet.

So yeah, compared to her, I feel lucky, because my mom never had a Ricky. I know it would be different because I'm a guy and all, but still.

There's a couple here, Jeff and Charlene, who were playing some cards, so I asked if they wanted to get a Euchre game going with the four of us. We had to explain the rules to Jennie, but she picked it up okay. Later we all told stories. Charlene asked me about my Garfield High wrestling squad tee shirt, and I confirmed that yep, I was not only on the team, I was 3rd in my division at state finals. I guess I should explain why that's surprising: I'm 5'3, and since I haven't been working out lately I don't exactly look like a terror, but it's true. I mean, they have weight divisions for a reason, us short guys need sports too!

Eventually Ricky woke up from his nap. He looked annoyed that Jennie was hanging out with us, but I guess he didn't feel like he could say anything, so he just said he was going out for booze and for Jennie to not leave the hotel while he was gone.

Elias: What's next?

When mom passed just before Christmas (great timing, big guy!) my Aunt Leah, who lives in Texas but stayed with us in Ohio the last year during mom's treatment, was insistent I not wait another day to start my life while she settles the estate. I've spent almost all 21 years of it running around the same stretch of Cleveland-adjacent land, from Parma to Willoughby. She insisted I see other countries, try new foods, dip a toe in the ocean, climb a mountain, get on an airplane. I'm open to all of it, except maybe the mountain-climbing.

Well, going to South Korea or Paris felt somewhat daunting for a first trip, so I decided to try something a little more my speed. I thought perhaps seeing all 50 states would be a worthwhile project, and I was able to cross off quite a few just getting here. I like that Old Orchard Beach is a very small, sleepy town at heart, even if it's packed with summer tourists. And of course, this creaky, ancient lodge excites my Unsolved-Mysteries-Cryptzoology-Loving heart. It's the kind of place not everyone would choose to stay, but when I came across it after a deep dive for "Unusual spots + Maine" I knew I had found my destination. I bet there's some really colorful ghost stories about this place.

Isaac/Ainsley: THING

Eleven at night and they were still going at it in the other bedroom, just early enough that I couldn't bring myself to sleep through it out of pure exhaustion. Heather tries to convince her various hookups to host, and it usually works out that way, but she's never let my sanity get in the way of her getting laid if it comes down to it. Eventually, the noise died down for long enough without me overhearing any talking or anyone exiting the apartment that I felt safe enough to assume they'd both gone asleep and go get myself a drink of water.

It was on the couch when I opened the bedroom door. Not looking at a phone or trying to leave or anything. Just sitting there, eyes already peeled to my door before I even opened it. I averted my eyes and speedwalked as non-conspicuously I could manage to the kitchen. As I filled a cup I involuntarily dropped the glass into the sink when I heard it speak.

"Well? Aren't you going to look?"

My breathing stopped. Without thinking I bolted around and did as instructed. It sat casually stretched out like it owned the place, a toothy grin I'd never seen before on its face. It had an immaculately maintained side-shaved haircut, clear, lean muscle visible alongside a muscle top and well-fitting jeans. Its voice, buried under a deeper affectation and genuine confidence, just hauntingly familiar enough to invoke nightmares. It was Isaac Strauss' body.

"What's up? Can't look yourself in the eye?" It laughed-- an actual laugh, not the disgusting choke-snort I long believed was the only thing it's capable of. "I kinda thought you'd react that way. You're so predictable, really-- both of you." I continued silently looking at the floor, not wanting to confront or provoke or comprehend the problem before me in any way possible.

A disheveled, half-naked Heather emerged from her bedroom, giving the intruder and I something else to look at. She yawned, looking over the both of us. "Ainsley, he was just leaving," she said, as if she'd be nudging him with her elbow if she were close enough. She looked at him. "I told you not to bother my roommate, she's kinda--"

"Heather that's my own fucking body!" I let out in a far more pathetic whimper than I'd hoped for.

She froze and looked around again. "Huh? I, I-- That's not how I would've--"

The body seemed to consider this the funniest thing in the world. "I still can't believe you never even showed her what you look like, this whole time. Like, I made some changes, but damn. She could've figured it out the second she saw me on Tinder, y'know? Do you just hate yourself that much?"

I had no response for that. It's true. I'd never shown Heather what I used to look like. It never came up and I didn't feel like volunteering it.

Heather, fists clenched, answered for me. "I am not. Going to tolerate you treating me, or my friend, like that ever again. If you say one more fucking word to him I swear I'm gonna make sure you won't even dream about showing your face again."

"Oh, really? Never show my face again-- is that permission to cancel my Inn reservation?" Heather flinched. "Yeah. I thought so. And I've been hitting the gym, so, y'know, I think I can handle a one-v-one fight with a stick like you-- since we all know you're--" Its face looked right at me again "--gonna be too busy hiding in a corner to help out. But, you look pretty pissed, I'm not gonna risk it. So maybe I should just--"

"--Just say whatever the hell you're gonna say and get on with it!" I cried.

"Thank you," it grinned. "For asking, 'why'd you come all this way, Marv?' Well, I'll tell you. The semester wrapped up, and all the cool, new friends I made over the last year skipped town for the summer. So I thought, hey, I'm young and got nothing better to do, why not visit two very special acquaintances of mine in Phoenix before I head up to Maine? It'd be a waste to just rot in a dorm all summer. I mean, can you imagine?"

"So I'm here for two reasons. One, I want to give you a demonstration of what you're capable of-- one way," it pointed at itself, "or another." It made double finger-guns at Heather, who I was almost about to join in nearly being driven to violence. "I can't believe I got away with that one, by the way. Crazy. But, yeah. And two, I want to give you an invitation, for tomorrow night. An event I'm putting on, just the three of us, where we can talk... Old Orchard Beach? And a couple other things."

Heather and I both waited for it to get to the point, unwilling to give it the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So yeah, meet me at ten tomorrow night. Little place called The Lounge, at least by someone in this room." Sometimes I wonder why anyone ever risks putting anything on the blog. "Sit at that booth in the back corner, by all those pictures of acts that've played there. Should be a good time. Better than this-- for you two, at least, I know *I'm* having fun." It started making its way towards the door, apparently, this was as far as it'd gotten with his clearly rehearsed speech. "We try to have some fun around here, huh? So, 'til tomorrow. Marv out."

The thing that was me left the apartment before either Heather or I could collect ourselves enough to do anything, for all it would've been worth if we had.

Rusty/Monica: Can they just put you on the jumbotron like that?

I never really thought about it before, even though Katey and I used to scream and try to get the camera guys' attention when we would go to a game as kids.  But it's kind of weird, right, that they'll just try to get 40,000 people to stare at you while you're minding your own business?

See, the girls and I have sort of been experimenting with being Yankees fans.  We didn't have a lot of time to really think of sports or treat New York as home a couple years ago, and last year Dad pointed out that not only was Queens closer to where we live in Brooklyn than the Bronx is, but just choosing to root for the Yankees is kind of front-runnung and phony, and we really didn't want to feel phony, so basically said we were Mets fans whenever it came up (which wasn't often) but didn't really have many chances to go to games anyway, so it didn't really matter.  But Katey's boyfriend Omar is a Yankees fan - I guess it's a Manhattan finance bro thing - on top of the Mets kind of being an embarrassing disaster.  Dad kind of picks up on the mood at the sports bar where she works, so we've kind of been vibing with the Yankees lately, even during the ugly losing streak and Judge going down.  It doesn't come up a lot, because people don't assume girls like sports and I'm as likely to wear some of the Dodgers gear that I inherited from the original Monica anyway, even though most of it has gotten worn enough to be replace over the last couple years.

Anyway, a few days ago, Omar got 4 tickets from work and Jonah had something else, so I actually got to come along rather than being left behind while the two couples went on a double date.  It was a really nice day, and we dressed for it with bare shoulders or lightweight jerseys and shorts - not like booty shorts or anything, but cut well above the knee like girls' shorts are.  Normal stuff. 

We take the subway, which Dad hates, sometimes because she's not really a city girl at heart and would rather drive even if we can't afford a car, and sometimes because guys seem to really enjoy being packed into a tight space with her.  Then there's a security line that's longer than you'd find at the airport, only it's outside so you get all sweaty.  Despite that, we're kind of excited, because the Red Sox are in town and that's a thing even though Razzy and all the other locals act like it's not, but were sure a lot more upset than usual when the Yankees lost on Friday. 

We try to just hang out and chat, which you can do at a Mets game, bit is a lot harder at Yankee Stadium because there's something on the loudspeakers all the time, which Dad uni l insists on yelling me is not normal and not right.  I wind up talking to Dad a lot more than Katey and Omar, who are as glued-together as usual, but that's okay, because we're both really busy lately:  Everyone who just graduated college is trying to find an apartment in the city, and the bar she works at is getting mobbed on nights the Knicks play.  We barely see each other at home right now, so it's really nice to just hang.

A few innings in, someone tries to squeeze past us without saying "coming through!" so Dad's hot dog with a whole ton of mustard gets squished into her jersey.  She takes it off with a sigh, because she's got a camisole on underneath, and we both know that the getting-hit-on is about to go way up.  It's been going on all afternoon, including a couple of guys who kept asking if we'd changed our minds every time that snaking security line had its passing again (which, admittedly, is kind of a good bit), but after a while, it kind of tapered off, because everyone within a couple rows has shot their shot, and even the guys who don't want to take no for an answer have someone with them saying "dude, she's not interested, let's just watch the game!"  So it picks back up again, and then stops, to the point where we're not really thinking about it when a song comes on between innings, and we bop around a bit, not seeing that there was someone with a great big camera near our section, and suddenly we're on the big screen and don't realize it until we look up because people are whooping.  Dad turns away, embarrassed, and I try to save face by doing an exaggerated bow, but now a lot more people are trying to find us and try their luck.

By and large, we're able to turn them away with some combination of "got a boyfriend" from Dad and "just here to watch the game" from me, but one guy gets real persistent and Katey, annoyed and thinking she's helping, cuts in with "hey, fuck off, she's ace!"  Dad and I groan and she's surprised, asking "what?", just as the guy says "are you sure, or maybe you've just never met the right guy!"

So then we get into the "yeah, I'm sure" / "showin' a lot of skin for someone who doesn't want to attract attention!" / "it's eighty degrees out" / "and the makeup?" / "none of your business, but I like looking nice when I'm out with friends!" / "oh, so maybe you're a dyke!" / "just fuck off!" / "fine, bitch!" exchange, which I've been in more than I'd like and which Dad has witnessed on occasion, but apparently Katey hasn't really noticed, and was actually kind of surprised that there's this extra level of guys pestering you beyond what she's experienced.

It's kind of weird posting about this during pride month, because you're supposed to let it all out, even if it's mostly an absence of stuff to let hang out.  Still, sometimes it can feel less like you're not really different but just experiencing straight things to the minimum degree and aren't really queer (that thing about having been a guy until you stayed at a magic hotel aside, which is kind of ridiculous to say), and since most of the time you can just say something like "nah, I'm not looking to hook up tonight" and it's not untrue, but it's really frustrating, because I know I'm just putting it off a lot of the time.

It doesn't really bother me most days, but yesterday got to me, maybe because of the Pride thing and maybe because we were just trying to have fun at the ballpark and a thing I always thought would be kind of cool just made it harder.

-Rusty/Monica

Kiara: Onward (Goodbye, Tom.)

Tuesday, May 26

6:16 AM.

Grandma Kelly is on baby duty this morning, but I'm up anyway. I couldn't sleep. It's humid as hell from all the rain. My hair is everywhere. My boobs are annoying the bejeezes out of me. And I think I had a sex dream.

I'm up. Splash some water on my face, brush the tangles out of my hair, change my underwear. I think about how I merely find my jugs annoying these days instead of painful. They still occasionally dribble milk, but for the most part they're not a going concern other than "the reason my shoulders are sore."

I can't do much with them. They are what they are. I feel a little sad that here I am, with a pair of my own boobs to play with whenever I like, and they're just... whatever.

I check my underarms. I could probably go another day or two without shaving, but sleeveless-season is upon us so I should stay on top of it. My legs too. I don't think there's anything wrong with a woman having body hair, but... I guess I don't want to be a woman with body hair.

I thought today would feel special. Today is the first day I am Kiara. I'm really not Tom anymore. The original Ki never took me up on my ultimatum. I am here for good and today is the first day I know that for sure. But it just feels like Tuesday.

7:54 AM.

But by now it's almost 8 and I've got to get along to school. I dress in a tank top and some shorts. it's been raining, so the humidity is going crazy. I pull all my hair back into a fuzzball ponytail thing.

I hear the baby fussing and it strikes me in the gut, but Kelly's got it. Now I'm wondering if I should have bothered staying. With Kelly and Jen as support, someone else could fulfill this role, I could be anywhere else. But I banish those thoughts. The baby needs a mom, and the wrong one could really screw her up.

8:18 AM.

It's the first day of the new term and I'm taking Writer's Craft. This should be a breeze. I could teach that class, well, maybe if I liked dropouts and delinquents. I signed up for summer courses because I'm thiiis close to a GED, which means being able to determine what the hell I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life. No sense in taking the summer off, you know?

I'm early. Sunita is here -- she thought this was an all-purpose English course and by the time I had explained the difference, she was already registered. A few other classmates trickle in, all looking miserable to be here. This won't be a big course. It might end up feeling like a really casual college seminar or something, with fewer than a dozen students, depending how the teacher is.

8:31 AM.

The teacher breezes through the door, apologizing for being late, this is his first day on this campus. He writes his name on the chalkboard.

"MR. WIGHT"

As he turns to address us, he freezes, like he sees something scary and unexpected in the crowd. And it's not a very big crowd. But he composes himself and moves on without further comment.

I bite my tongue and stay focused, not averting my eyes as if I've done anything wrong. Just lookign at him as if I'm an normal student and he's a normal teacher.

Because Mr. Wight is Donovan. The guy I hooked up with last month and ghosted.

11:58 AM

The morning session is done.  He's spent the period going over some general principles and the syllabus. His eyes seem to find every student in the room but me.

The students file out -- I'm something like fourth or fifth. I pay him a "meaningless" glance on my way past.

1:00 PM

My afternoon class is auto shop. Why not. I didn't know how to fix a car as a man, maybe it will be a useful skill to have. Maybe someday I'll be at some mechanic and they'll be like "You see ma'am your carburetor blah blah blah" and I can be like "Actually my carburetor yadda yadda yadda." I don't know. All I know is that all these 20-year-old guys use it an excuse to fuck around (because they already know their shit) and discuss what my pussy might taste like loud enough that they have to know I can hear them.

I steal glances at my phone in case Donovan has texted. He hasn't.

4:04 PM

I have to take the bus 30 minutes out of the way to pick up Sienna from daycare. I think about how my life would be incrementally easier with a source of income. I have no idea how I'm supposed to be making money for the rest of my life. It seems unlikely I'll go back into journalism.

7:10 PM

Dinner's on the table. I made macaroni and cheese for whoever's around. The kids descend on it like locusts. Sienna has a tube of vegetable goo.

9:03 PM

The phone lights up with a notification.

It's Donovan. He has written, very neutrally, "We should find some time to talk, I guess."

I don't have the energy to respond at this point. Sienna has been down for an hour. I fall asleep in my clothes.

Wednesday, May 27

2:02 AM

Not taking my bra off before I fell asleep was a huge mistake. Underwire is my new enemy.