On the train ride home, we were quiet. Not coldly quiet, but comfortably. At least, that's my interpretation. I would look over at John, and he'd look back at me and flash me a quick smile, then go back to his book, and I'd think, okay, good, we don't need to constantly be chattering. Our relationship is pretty lived-in. That's comforting to know.
After my fourth trip to the bathroom he teased me by asking if I would rather just stay in there. I didn't say anything to that, and maybe slightly unintentionally said nothing for a long while. The silence must have been quite pointed, because he sneered, "What, are you going to freeze me out the whole trip over some wisecrack? You really are a woman now, huh?"
I just kind of sighed, annoyedly, and tried to gather my thoughts. "I'm not there yet, okay? I know I chose this -- more or less -- but I'm still coming to terms with that. Give me a little bit of a grace period, you know?"
"All right, all right," he said, kind of dismissively. "Sue me for thinking we'd be the same people we always were before."
He continued, "I don't see why you being the woman and me the man should mean our dynamic is any different from what it's always been."
"Well, for the time being, it is," I said coolly. I paused a bit before adding, "That doesn't mean I don't still like you or want you, but it is going to be different. You understand that, right?"
How could it not be? I already feel different. going from a testosterone-driven young man to a woman of somewhat advanced years, I feel the change. And I'm sure he does too even if he doesn't want to admit it. I think he wants to be hungry for me in the way that he was as Koti, but it's not the same, on my end or his.
He kind of pouted over this, so I decided to do him a favor and lean over to kiss him. It was... nice. Kissing men again. Different, but not unwelcome when it's someone you're attached to.
He accepted my peace offering and the rest of the ride was fine. Then we got to the house, and... well, it all hit me.
I mean, remember when I caught Mary crying over her decision, insisting she didn't feel bad about it but she needed time to process the decision we had made?
I suddenly felt it when I walked into the house. Even though the real Mary hadn't lived here in a year, this was the home that she had made for herself and her husband. It had her decorating sensibility, her spirit.
And it wasn't like walking into Chantelle's apartment, or Ryan's, or Ed's home or the place that Dustin and Koti and all of us lived. Those places, I was aware that I was transient and that I fully intended to give them back. I didn't particularly feel the weight of any of those places. But this home had roots. I looked at the hardwood floors and the area rugs and the lighting fixtures and the colors on the walls and the furniture layout and all of it, and something just struck me.
I have walked into a life. A life that somebody built and has now bequeathed to me, because under the surface it was no longer her.
That hit me hard, and it was days before I could even put a word to it. All I felt at first was the tears, the sobs, the overwhelm. This is a life, Marc -- it's your life now, and it's something you have not had in a long, long time.
I turned and buried my head in John's chest, and he stroked my hair and I don't think he really understood what I was feeling -- and I don't blame him -- but it really settled into my bones. It is up to me to build a life as this person.
To his credit, he asked what was going on, and I told him I'd tell him when I knew. And it was a few days later I was able to write it all out and kind of tell him how I was feeling. And it wasn't bad, just heavy.
John and I are going to build a life together. And if it doesn't work... I don't know what then.
-Marc/Mary
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