“Alright Shannon, I’m glad we were able to work things out. I’ll let you know the moment we hit the road.”
I hang up Clint’s – well, I guess my – phone and let out a groan, rubbing a calloused hand through the buzz cut that was my hair now.
“Were you able to work things out with ‘mom’?” Caleb says from his – I’m holding off on using “her” till he says it’s fine – spot over on the bed.
In his tank-top and thigh cut shorts, he looked just like any other teenage girl, especially with his face stuck in his phone.
“Yeah, she seemed to buy the story our phones got left at some restaurant in town and we didn’t get them back till now. Thank god Clint had used the ‘Inn’s complimentary computer’ to e-mail about how there was that community theater play that you just had to see. Bought us a some time to get adjusted."
When I decided to get into psychology with the intent to help people, I figured that would probably involve some couple’s therapy. What I didn’t expect was that my first couple was going to be myself separating from my wife with a kid involved.
Before we dig into that, however, let me back up a bit.
My name is Kaitlyn Woods, and as you likely read from Caleb's posts I'm a recent psychology graduate. I figured that enjoying some sunshine on the beach in a sleepy little town would be a good way to get some rest and relaxation before heading off to graduate school to get my masters. After all, being in a calm and collected mind is an important part of starting a new adventure, and now I’m just repeating that to myself as I handle the flurry of post-curse life management. No offense to the real Clint Thomson, of course, but he did not exactly leave the easiest of situations, and I think he’s rather lucky that someone with at least a little bit of training in handling contentious interpersonal relations got his body.
To sum it up, Clint and his wife Shannon are currently separated with a very high likelihood of divorce. Their daughter Rylee – now currently “played” by Caleb, to use her love of theater as a metaphor – lives with Shannon, but the two had agreed to let Clint take on vacation for some father-daughter time before the big move to college. They were, of course, supposed to come back by now, but, well, the Inn had different plans. It was a stroke of luck their transformation into the Holder sisters had 1) left them as adults and 2) happened with enough time to come up with a story about missing phones and a community theater production of She Kills Monsters that Rylee just had to see. Having to do all that over email really strained Shannon’s patience, but it worked to buy us the rest of our two week stay. Hopefully that will give us enough time to get accommodated to our new bodies and get a crash course in being the Thomsons.
That's probably easier said than done, though.
Cliff’s job as the owner of a woodworking shop is not one where my education quite transfers over. Clint he assured me that no one would think it too unusual if he "stepped back" from the floor to focus more on management, but it’s still going to be rough to fake any technical expertise. My experience with woodworking stops and ends with popsicle art projects in middle school (which, to be fair, I did get As on).
Related, I had the rather disappointing task of getting in contact with my graduate program to request a one year’s deferment due to “health complications”. Even if we wouldn’t be doing clinicals until the second year, any courses missed would impact my ability to treat any future patients, so I couldn't in good conscience let someone else do the work for me. In my letter I suggested to whoever becomes me that the safest alternative for now would be to move back home and get a job working as an administrative assistant for my mother's practice. It would be a little embarrassing, but better than taking out student loans for coursework you wouldn't be qualified to complete.
“How’s your letter writing going, by the way?” I ask Caleb
“It’s on my list of things to do. First I’m working on transferring over some of my social media,” he says without even looking up from his phone. Clearly he’s already mastered the first skill of a teenage girl.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just make a clean break?”
“I kept an anonymous and public facing version of just about everything. Whoever becomes me is free to use my public Facebook and stuff, but lot of my other accounts are just sparse enough on personal details I can keep them up without any real change."
“Alright, if you think that’s the best way to handle things,” I say, not unsympathetic to the desire of wanting to holding onto things. I mean, I moved a few things myself, but we are ultimately going to have to live as these people, not ourselves. Trying to cling too hard to our lives just feels like it’d be too much of a source of anxiety and resentment.
“Just don’t forget to get that letter written. I know it probably feels scary to have to hand your life over to someone else, but just, you know, think about this as getting some valuable experience in being in someone else’s shoes, literally,” I say, admittedly just as much to for myself as for Caleb.
“Alright, dad,” he says, finally looking up from his phone to give me an annoyed glance.
“Sorry, just, you know, trying to help. If you’re wanting to talk about it…”
“I’ll be fine. I mean, I’m basically just redoing freshman year. Different major, different parts, but at the end of the day school is school. Keep up grades, stay out of trouble, and it’ll all work out. And if I want to hang on to a Discord account or two what does it matter?"
Recognizing I probably overstepped, I back off.
Even in only knowing him a few days, I couldn’t help but notice Caleb tends to redirect his attention to some kind of “task” to avoid working through his anxieties. During our little 4th of July date, for example, any time I got physically closer he’d immediately steer towards some kind of shop or offering me a drink or snack (which in retrospect makes a lot more sense knowing that he’s asexual). It’s a coping strategy that does have me a little worried about what’s going to happen once all this initial rush of letter writing and figuring plans is over and we’re left with nothing else to do but to just…exist as these people.
- Kaitlyn/Clint
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