Tyler/Valerie: A honeymoon of my own

After parting ways with Josh after the wedding, I did the only thing that came to mind, the same thing I always do. I left.

He was leaving anyway for the Honeymoon, so you would think I could just hang out in the city by myself. It probably would have made the transition to single life easier, give me time to make arrangements. In fact, that was what Valerie insisted I had to do, feeding me scripts on who I needed to tell and what to say. But this was a situation where, for whatever reason, I needed to get in the driver's seat.

Maybe it's the last remnants of my male pride. Maybe a polecat doesn't change his stripes anyway.

So while Josh was bound for Hawaii I went on a trip of my own... to a place I didn't think I would actually go again.

I went back to friggin' Alabama.

I did it in the stupidest way possible, too, since I didn't give Carrie the head's up before I landed on her doorstep. I wasn't even sure if she'd recognize me. It was a cold, rainy day and all I had was the bag I had packed for Hawaii. Some good it was... reckon I probably wasn't gonna do much swimming there.

I showed up at her apartment, my hair a tangled, dripping mess, my cheeks blotted with rain and tears and smudged makeup, dragging my sad little wheelie bag behind me. I knocked on the door and it opened and for the first time ever, I was looking up at her.

She gave me a look of mixed surprise and confusion but she clicked almost immediately with what was going on, mouthing "Ty?" which I nodded to confirm. She reads the blog, so she did have a sense of my current physical appearance, so when a stranger matching that description showed up at her place randomly, well... she's the smartest Blake of the bunch, I always said.

"Sweetie!" she piped up loudly in away that alerted me she was not alone. "Come in, get dry! I can't believe you're here!" She wrapped me up in a big warm hug and it felt amazing for a moment.

A voice called from the kitchen. "Care, babe? Who's there?"

"Oh, it's just my friend--" she stumbled over the name until I whispered it. "Valerie! I haven't seen her in forever!"

Then he came out to get a look at me, and I saw him there.

Luke Anderson. Carrie's high school boyfriend, who I was not a fan of. I couldn't stop myself from immediately fixing Carrie with a bug-eyed glare of shock, and she responded with a look of mixed embarrassment and fear. I nearly blew my cover by asking what the hell he was doing here.

Luke, who has known Carrie since she was a kid, asked the reasonable question: "How do you two know each other?"

"Vacation!" I blurted out. "We met on vacation a few years ago."

He seemed satisfied, and Carrie excused us saying she had to speak with Val in the hallway.

Soon as the door was closed, I hissed, "What he hell!"

"Nope!" she stuck her finger up. "We'll get to that, but if you want something from me you just need to accept that this is happening and move on."

I closed my eyes tight, took a deep breath and held it in.

"Sorry, I'm a little frazzled and that was... shocking."

"Not as shocking as seeing you here I'll bet," she snickered.

"I just got on a plane and didn't even think... I'm so sorry. I can get a hotel."

"Uh-uh honey. I want you where I can see you."

"Carrie, I don't know what you think I'm gonna... okay, I know exactly what you think, but I've changed."

"Oh, I know you've changed," she said, eyeing me with a suggestive grin. I folded my arms under my chest as if to say, yeah, they're there and we all know it. "And Luke's changed too."

I didn't have anything to say to that, except to note, "Honey... that's a new one."

She shrugged. "It just came out... what can I say? You look like a honey now."

Before I could retort she asked if there was anything else I needed to say as Tyler, or if we could go back in the apartment. The hallway was freezing, so I told her I would explain everything in-character. If he asks any questions about backstory, leave them to me, I've gotten very skilled at that over the years.

"Now come along," she ushered me into the back room of the apartment. "There's somebody you'll want to meet." There lying in a crib was the baby she had given birth to over the summer.

"Tyler," she whispered, "Meet your nephew. Thomas."

I crooked an eyebrow. "You would name him after dad..."

"Think of it as being after Grandpa if it helps."

One of the great ironies of the screwed-up Blake family tree... My dad, Tom Blake Jr., had a similar relationship to his dad that I had to him. Grampy and I always got along well, but Carrie was too young when he died to have known him like I did.

She picked up the baby and passed him to me.

"Oh, I don't..."

"Ty, just... when are you going to be back here again?"

I took the little stinker.

"Hey buddy... I'm..." I said in a hushed voice, "I'm your uncle Ty." I got a little choked up as I said it.

There's a very real chance that I will never, ever be a man again, just based on luck of the draw, and, well, things I will explain later. More and more, since I was Judith, I'm learning to be "okay" using female pronouns and such, and just thinking of myself in those terms, on a potentially permanent basis. But I found myself really wanting to use the phrase "Uncle Ty" one time in my life, at least, just to pretend I'm my old self in that second... even as the kid instinctually nuzzles into my breast.

A gal's heart could melt.

I held him a while, trying not to think about how he would probably never know me, let alone know who I really am, as Luke peppered me with some of the expected questions - who are you again, what brings you here, how long will you be staying... stressful stuff that was not improving my opinion of him anyway. I could tell he wasn't that into having visitors, so I backpedaled with "Oh really, I don't want to impose, I can leave anytime..." but Carrie shut us both down on that front and insisted.

I guess I should explain the backstory between me and Luke. I disliked him from the second he came sniffing around Carrie, because he was a Junior and she was a Freshman. He was a football star and had a reputation around town as a player, so my warnings to her to be careful only made her want him more. I resisted voicing my disapproval because of one simple fact: He's black, and we're not that far removed from the time when that was reason enough for a white guy to want a guy to stay away from his sister. I probably just didn't like I'm because he was cocky and popular and all the things I hated in high school. I kept my mouth shut about it long as I could, never wanted anyone to think it was a race thing, because my dad had a rep for not exactly being progressive, so anything I could do to distance myself from his views, I wanted to. (Oddly enough he did like Luke... Because he was a popular football player.) But Luke always rubbed me the wrong way right from the start and even though I tried to give him a chance, I always heard rumors that he would pick up anything in a skirt.

She was deaf to my warnings, but hey, it's not like I was Mr. Credibility in those days.

Eventually, he got caught redhanded, got her forgiveness, then fucked up again, so she broke it off, but I could tell she never really closed the door there and she even let him string her along when he was with someone else. The guy was her kryptonite and I never liked that.

It took until the next day, when Carrie and I could get away for coffee that I explained what all had happened with the wedding and everything. She was sympathetic, but wondered if it was up to me to dissolve the marriage, if maybe Valerie preferred reconciliation. I pointed out that the "marriage" wasn't legit anyway, and that even if Valerie was sympathetic or still wanted him back, for the duration of my term as her, I would behave as I saw fit. I thought a few years on the merry-go-round ought to have bought me the right to determine that.

"So you may be sabotaging her chances, if she does want him back."

"He's got a kid on the way. You of all people should understand that situation. I know you say Luke's changed..."

She bit her lip. "Luke isn't Tom's father."

"Ah," I said. "That makes sense. That kid is so pale."

"We ran into each other at the Piggly Wiggly a while back and we... reconnected."

I raised an eyebrow. "And the father, the one you said was so stable and in the picture?"

"There isn't one. Tommy's father is a donor. I just didn't want you to worry because I knew you would."

I took a moment to digest this information. "Well, at least it's nice to be able to keep imagining my little sister has never been with a man."

She snickered, "Wish I could say the same about you!"

My face turned tomato red. "Just Kitty! Josh and I never even--"

"Okay, relax!" she said through eye-watering laughter. "Geez, your voice gets high when you're embarrassed."

I could hardly speak. She added, "But it's so amazing to, like... see 'you' in there sometimes. There's no way I would imagine the woman sitting in front of me is actually Tyler's Blake, and yet you did that thing you always did when you're thinking... you roll your eyes back into your head and pucker your lips and your jaw goes all... weird. Exactly the same as you always did. It's freaky."

I stayed long enough to have Thanksgiving dinner at my oldest brother's place... I hadn't meant to but Carrie insisted. It was so strange being an outsider there. I tried to minimize my presence, but being that the family unit doesn't get many outsiders, let alone northerners (my accent has faded to where Mobilians don't immediately recognize me as local.) So I politely fielded many personal questions and tried to make small talk with their wives, and not seem too interested in the whereabouts of the person in my body. It was actually a little weird and sad "Tyler" never came up but I probably prefer it that way.

I still hadn't warmed to Luke, but he was very domestic, helping to cook and prepare more than many boyfriends would. I did see him checking out my rack, but even if that bugs me, it wasn't any worse than the way average guys look at me. Hell, even my own brothers were sneaking peaks, which is a good reason to never, ever, ever come over again.

But if that was the worst of it, it seems pretty innocent to me. I decided Luke's eye really wasn't wandering.

On my last night there, I was up late reading, and Luke came in with the baby, who had woken up. He sighed modestly, "My turn."

I nodded in appreciation. "That's gotta suck."

He shrugged. "It's worth it. Look at this kid!"

"Yeah, he's cute. You're pretty happy, huh?"

"More than I've ever been," he said warmly. "I never even thought I wanted this. I was a bit of a player back in the day and I thought I always would be, but when I met this little guy it hit me... I needed that. I needed to grow up."

I smiled.

"Look at him," Luke beamed, "He's gonna be a stud. Quarterback material."

"You never know," I shrugged, "Maybe he'll be artistic. Quiet. Shy
 Maybe he'll prefer boys to girls. Maybe hell be a girl."

Luke looked up at me with this frozen, hundred-yard stare for a second and I saw the wheels turning.

"Whatever makes him happy. Long as I get to be part of it."

Hm.

I still have my doubts but... well, Carrie's a grown-up. She can handle her own. I should focus on myself...

More as soon as I can get around to telling it!
-Ty/Val

Cary Johnson: Back Home

It's kind of peculiar to welcome back pain, a tricky knee, and gray hair back like they're old friends, and I suppose that is possible that in a few weeks I week be waxing nostalgic for those months when I was a young black woman, even if only one one of those things actually made things any easier.  Still, despite how strange it is to feel a rush of gratitude at seeing familiar sights and acquaintances after a year when they feel like it has been only two weeks or so, it is welcome.

I miss Elaine a bit, even if I was not completely free of her when I left Chicago, still having her face and figure.  I asked if maybe she would like to fly out to Maine with me, but she said no; she wants to have a few days on her own, and then her sister was going to meet her, and they would spend a few days driving from Chicago to Old Orchard, doing a sort of an imitation of a regular family vacation.  I understand, a bit; it's been a long time since I went in that sort of trip with my mother and father, but even though she and I never built a sort of mother-daughter thing, I do sort of feel like she is my sister, and I hope she feels the same way about me.  Doesn't even have to think of me as her brother, I'll be her sister even if I'm an old man to her.

I still don't much like flying, although the experience is somewhat less stressful when you don't think the security people are going to see through how your face matches your driver's license and consider you an impostor.  I'm glad there are direct flights to Portland - smaller planes than the ones through Boston or New York (or Atlanta, as one ridiculous flight on the website Elaine visited would have had me using), so probably a bit more nerve-wracking, but there's something to be said for only going through it once.

Getting to the Inn was uneventful - I take the train, stop in at the place down the street where you check in and return your keys, and then just go.  The friendly lady at the first place nervously tries to make conversation about how prompt people are in checking in early in the season compared to late summer, but, despite the grumbling about how rude Millennials are when I just nod, take them, and leave, seems relieved by my not sticking around to chat.  About my real age, she's not exactly used to dealing with black people, I imagine, though it's different than the worst of what I encountered in Chicago, more about how we don't get that much variety in Maine and don't know how to react to it.

The Inn's not bad, considering; I've stayed in worse places as a younger man.  There isn't any luggage for me, since my place is close enough for this to qualify as a "stay-cation", but there is a shipping bag with some new clothes, including an unopened packet of undergarments, just in case I would feel strange about wearing things the other Cary had.  The letter in the bag isn't handwritten, and is in fact rather businesslike, telling me how things went with the truck, what sort of work he did over the winter to make up for it not being a great time and place for a food truck without a brick-and-mortar storefront to find spaces, how rent was paid through the end of May, that sort of thing.  It's courteous, and doesn't ever say that being me was a hardship.

I spend a few days as "Carrie" again, running the truck until we change back early on the 2nd.  I suppose I should be thankful for a little extra stamina on Memorial Day, but it's a bit of a nerve-wracking couple of weeks.  One thing that really gets me is being naked under the covers - I never did that in the rest of my time as Elaine - it doesn't feel proper with someone who looks like a little girl just on the other side of the room even if I were to do it normally - but I don't know just how I'll turn out.  Did the other guy gain some weight, so Elaine's bedclothes would strangle me?  It's not quite warm enough for it, really, and I get worried that someone will just burst into the room, but it doesn't happen.

I wind up myself again, though, and waste no time getting out of the place.  As much as I'm sure the experience was good for me, I don't think I intend to ever park my truck near there again.

Tyler/Judith: Spa Day

So, back in December, Kitty got me a Spa Day as a gift. It was a nice thought, keeping with our (not totally successful) pact to get each other gifts we didn't have to leave with these lives, and I know it was a really special gift, but I had to convince myself to get into it. Don't get me wrong, I love to relax and I could do with being pampered, but... well, I guess part of me thought that somehow it was all too girly to have mudbaths and cucumber facemasks and whatever. Which is absurd. My existence should probably prove that "girly" and "manly" don't really mean much in the grand scheme of things. Should having a vagina mean that I should be interested in a spa treatment? Maybe not. But should the fact that I once had a penis be a reason not to enjoy it? As if someone was going to take away my "man card"?

I was still a bit bashful and putting it off because, well, I didn't want to go alone. And part of me thought maybe Kitty would like me to ask him along and we could do a "couples" thing, but he specifically didn't buy a couples' package, so I thought... there's an opportunity here, to reach out to someone I haven't seen in a while.

My sister, Carrie.

Growing up, I was always very close with her, because my brothers were older they were mostly out of the house by the time she was born, and I was already growing into a bit of a black sheep. We stuck close together until I left the South for good a few years ago - so much so that she followed me to the Inn and wound up in Meghan's body. (Sometimes I wonder about the near-miss there... what if she had become me? Leaving aside the awkwardness of her living in her big bro's body for nearly a year, I would have been sure to get it back, and then what? We'll never know.) Distance, and the craziness of living with a magical body-transforming curse, kind of cooled communication between us... as did the fact that she was more sympathetic to Meg (the sister she never had, essentially) when we split... not that I blame her, I was an ass.

I could have invited Meg, but even though the lines of communication are open there, I still wasn't sure I could handle reaching out that way. Carrie, though, has been an important person for almost my whole life. Not being in touch with her feels wrong. And the fact that she's the only person who knew me well before the Inn who also knows my secret is also pretty important. Not everybody gets to have that.

And she had been on my case to let her meet me as Judith at least once.

She was happy to visit, she really fell for New England during her time here, and managed to roll a visit with Meg into the deal. She spent the night there before driving down to Concord to see me.

When she arrived and I opened the door, I caught this look in her eye, like she was afraid of who was going to answer - she knows her favorite brother is now a woman (again) and a bit older with a Kid, and she follows along the blog as best she can. There was nothing for her to be afraid of, but I guess there was still that sinking feeling in your gut you get when you try to square your mental image of someone, who you think they are, with who they appear to be now. She audibly gasped.

"Care!" I grinned.

"Ty!" she threw her arms around me in a warm hug. She's grown into a fine woman, really looking like she's got it together, and even in her sweater and coat she looked... well, I guess radiant is the word. If I didn't have Judith's Portuguese toasted-marshmallow complexion, we might even look like sisters. We were eye to eye for the first time in our entire lives.

"I can't believe this is you!" she said while we were still clinched together. "I mean, you live like this, you look like this! I know you've been here for a while... and you've been a girl before, but... this is so unreal!"

"Tell me about it," I said, practically tearing up, "Sometimes I forget, and then remember... how crazy my life is. All that I've been through."

She separated and took a good look at my face. She seemed to like what she saw.

"I think you're crazy, you don't look old at all," she said, referring to certain remarks I've made about Judith's looks on the blog and in private, "Not a day over forty!"

"Uh, I'm not forty," I said, knowing she was just ribbing me.

"And your hair looks beautiful, so silky and long..."

"Thanks, it's hard work."

I showed her around the house, Kit was having breakfast in the kitchen and was very cordial - cornily kissing her hand. Carrie, like many of you, has gotten my mixed reviews about Kit, but we are getting to a real honeymoon phase so I permitted myself to gush about how good things have been lately.

"The sex you two must have, I bet it's wild..." she giggled. I told her the less said the better, reminding her I'm still her sibling. Kit looked vaguely shocked, and personally I was a bit too to hear my little sis talk that way, but I disguised it.

Then I brought her to meet the Kid. "Hi there, you must be Olivia... or should I say Dylan."

Dylan looked suspicious. "Um... hi."

"Dyl, I told you before, my sister would be coming by. My real sister. She knows all about us because she's been through it too."

"Oh right," she said. "So, you're, like... my aunt?"

"Um, okay! Let's call me that." Carrie smiled. She had a gift for Dylan, some chocolate - she admitted she wasn't sure what to bring, but I assured her that the Kid definitely has a sweet-tooth. I explained the Kid's bashfulness by explaining my theory that she likes to pretend she was never a guy, because it makes things easier, so talking to people who know she is formerly a guy makes him self-conscious about his girly trappings.

Reflecting on the fact that I was walking my sister around the house in ladies' apparel and heels, I had to admit there was a point there.

We drove to the spa together. I asked how the family back home was doing, and she said about what I would have expected... this nephew is starting high school, that nephew made quarterback, apples of their daddies' eyes. Apparently I've got a niece who is turning out to be a bit of a punk rock rebel (and her parents suspect, a lesbian,) which I am genuinely sorry to be absent for.

I took a deep breath. "Look, if there's any news about the other Tyler... I don't think I want to hear it, okay? It's really hard, and I think life is easier if I just pretend he's not out there." Perhaps I was taking a page from the book of Dylan.

"Well, that's ok," she said, "Because there's no news as far as I know. He lit out long ago and never looked back."

"Good, I guess," I huffed.

"Can't say I blame him either," Carrie sighed, "Your old friends beat him nearly to death, stabbed him, ran him over, left him on life support... Guess he got the message that he wasn't wanted in 'Bama."

"Uh huh," I huffed.

"Scary to think that could have been you," she said.

"I wouldn't have been so stupid," I said. "They weren't going to leave Alabama to find me, bigger fish to fry. But he was an asshole who got what he deserved." My tone was getting pretty serious and I could tell it was spooking Carrie, who never liked knowing about my, er, sketchy past. I added, "I would have gone back. Even with that hanging over my head, I never would have hesitated. It's his fault for not playing ball."

"Okay, okay, you don't need to convince me," she said. "So now nobody in the family knows where he is, and we kind of... just don't talk about it."

"Mhmmm," I muttered. I would have suspected that none of them would miss me much if I just fell off the face of the Earth. Sure I was family but I was the Family Screw-up, someone that was a bit of a problem, even when I was doing fine.

We arrived at the spa soon after and changed the topic to more exciting matters... she asked me how I liked being a "mommy" and I gave her some of my observations, made a few jokes about how I got the easiest part of it and how I'm lucky I wasn't stuck with a toddler.

We signed in and were ushered to the change room to put on our plush white robe.

I looked around... there wasn't many ways to hide, so I blushed a bit and faced backwards.

"You're so awkward," she snickered behind me. "Same stiff old you in there."

"I'm sorry I don't really want to see my sister naked," I sighed.

"Whatever, we're all girls here," she said. "You're a married woman and I don't have anything you don't see in the mirror every day."

I angled my head just so that she could at least see the glare in my eyes, "That was true when I was a man and I didn't make a point to look around the change room then either."

"Okay, fine," she said after a second, "You can turn around now."

I did - except she was messing with me, standing there waiting for me, with her hands on her hips laughing her fool head off, naked as the day she was born and on display. "Damnit, Carrie, not funny!"

I shielded my eyes, but thought I had seen something that caused me to look through my fingers at her.

I gasped. "You're pregnant!" Somehow it struck me and I was sure, rather than having to ask.

I might not have noticed if I weren't a woman - call it intuition or whatever, but I guess I'm attuned to these things now, even if I didn't exactly have a photographic memory for how Carrie usually looked. The change was subtle, but telling. It didn't look like normal "weight gain."

"Wow, glad you finally noticed," she smiled, "I only had to strip naked for you to tell."

"How long?"

"Three months and a bit," she said.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're not supposed to tell anyone before three months," she said, "And I was working up to it."

"And this is how you chose to tell me."

"Oh, just channeling my inner Beyoncé I guess," she laughed, cinching up her robe.

"This is huge," I said, then frowned at the implications. "The father?"

"He's around," she said, dodgily, "He's a good guy. We're gonna make it work."

"Oh, Carrie," I sighed, deflated.

"Don't give me that," she said a bit more harshly, "This is my call. I'm happy with it. I want this."

"You want this," I said back, "Fine. No lectures here."

"Good," she said. "See you out there."

Mostly my head was spinning almost too much to enjoy the spa... I say almost because having your every body part tended to does manage to put one in a relaxed state of mind. Maybe she's still little sis to me, but I warmed up to it. She's got a good job and if this guy is as stable as she says, it could work out.

Really, I'm the last person who should be telling anyone how to live their lives... I've had four of them and they're all messed up. I suppose I might be good for some parenting advice, but really I got a very unique perspective on that so I'm not sure my observations are much help.

As we drove home, refreshed, rejuvenated and relaxed, she asked what was next. I told her, we have a big scheme to get everybody back to their rightful place and I think we have a decent shot at pulling it off... except me and Kitty, who don't have rightful places anymore, so I reckon we'll just... keep floating.

"And Kitty's a good person to float with?"

I smiled a bit, almost as if I was surprised to hear myself say, "Actually, yeah. He's been good lately, I think that's the kinda person I need in my life sometimes."

She leaned over and gave me a big hug. "I never would have pictured it. I mean, none of this of course... you looking like this, acting like this... but I know it's you in there. I can still tell. You're doing a good job, Ty."

"Thanks," I said. "I can hardly believe it myself."

As she left, she looked back and smiled, "I always wanted a sister. You make a good one."

I sighed and smiled wearily, "I'll take that as a compliment."

Tyler/Alan: I don't live in the past, but sometimes I have to visit there.

I found myself in a Starbucks today. Generally, I only drink coffee at work and home, and if I had my pick I wouldn't set foot in a place that charges more than a buck for a cup, but there I was. Back when I was Lauren, I used to get dragged into those places fairly regularly. It was a favorite escape for Lauren's friends as a teenage girl, and it wasn't surprising that while inside I saw a table full of 15 or 16-year-old girls giggling together, passing their phones around looking at Vines and Instagrams and all the other apps I wish I didn't know about.

I remember being part of groups like that, mostly melting into the background and feeling very much like an outsider, but I also remember a lot of one-on-one times, like helping Karlee decode texts from Seann and try to boost her confidence. I remember helping Ginny phrase a breakup text to a boy she had only been out with once and wouldn't leave her alone ("Get tough, tell him you'll cut his balls off!") I remember study nights that featured almost no studying (for that we would have had to actually carry our textbooks around "Lol ew.") I remember being made fun of for being the only one to just get a regular plain coffee and not something ending on "-cino" or "-iato." Those were moments that helped, I dunno, normalize the whole experience in a way that commiserating with Meg didn't. Not constantly being looked at like pitiful Tyler stuck in Lauren's body was strangely relieving.

It was this weird feeling, like a flashback. Meghan has pointed out that a lot of the time I act like last year never happened, and maybe that's easier for me than facing it. To pretend like I went from being Tyler Blake to being Alan Schmidt with nothing in between, like the rest is just some movie I saw rather than something I lived through. But it's still there in the back of my head, and I had the weirdest feeling of nostalgia being in that place (do they all smell the same or what?) It's not like I treasured my time as Lauren, but it wasn't all bad. Given the crappy circumstances, I feel I made the best of it.

Generally, I prefer to focus on the present, where I'm going and what I'm doing next. Which has its own difficulties.

It's kind of the big sticking point between me and Meg. She wants to know what's next and I honestly don't have it all worked out. I have ideas, but I don't want to discuss them until I know what's going on. But that's not enough for her, I guess, and she hates how I change the subject every time she asks who, exactly, she can expect to be dating this summer. If I'm going to make any arrangements, I'd better work on them soon. That Inn probably fills up fast.

Complicating matters: last week I got a call from my sister, Carrie. Carrie was already the person in the family I was closest to, and her having been through the Inn experience with us has only increased that, but usually talk about "back home" is kept brief, since I did a lot of work to leave Mobile.

She gave me some pretty serious news, and said now might be a good time to come visit. Our father appears to be on his deathbed, and if I ever wanted to see him again I would hurry. I mulled it over. Meg seemed to support the idea: that it might give me some peace to be face to face with him, and I said it didn't matter because he wouldn't recognize me. Like I said, I don't dwell on the past too much. But I think Carrie could use the support, since she was a lot closer with him than I was, and she's going to take it pretty hard when he goes.

If I go, it's for her, and to satisfy Meg's need to be "let in" to my past, to see where I came from. I argued that it's easier for the two of us if we just pretend I have no background at all, but she wasn't having that.

Meg/Tasha: Coffee and catching up

I met up with Tyler on Sunday afternoon for coffee.

I want to say she's handling things well, although you wouldn't think it from the looks of her. At least for our little meeting, she was looking a fair bit unkempt, wearing baggy clothes and letting her hair just kind of go wild. I don't mean to judge her, it's just notable compared to the way most girls Lauren's age look when they leave the house, obsessed with their hair and make-up. On the contrary, it would be weirder if Tyler put much effort into that stuff, at least yet.

Still, Tyler was his usual snarky, wisecracking self under Lauren's skin. I think having the world look at him like a young girl has only toughened his resolve against authority. When I asked how the school situation was, he just shrugged and said he was remembering why the military seemed like such a good option when he was 18.

"You're not unintelligent," I insisted, "I haven't known you long, but I know that much about you."

"Sure, I know a few things," he said, "But you get in a classroom, at the end of the semester where everyone is expecting you to have this shit pounded into you after five months, and... you just feel inadequate. The weird thing is, Lauren isn't an idiot. All the homework she left me to hand in got her B's, which compared to how I used to do in high school..."

"Don't get down on yourself," I interrupted. "You're a grown up but you're still capable of learning."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he rolled his eyes. I ordered a regular coffee and he ordered some kind of foamy latte that I doubt would have been his style as a man. "One of Lauren's friends got me one of these once, and now I've got a craving for it. Don't judge me."

"Hey, whatever you want to do," I said, "Guys drink blended drinks."

"I think it's more about being a kid than being a guy," he said. "Maybe young tastebuds have stronger sweetness receptors."

"See?" I smirked, "Science."

"Yeah, somehow I doubt that'll help me on my final," he snorted a bit, "It's funny, out of everything that's going on with me, right now school is kicking my ass the worst. Seriously. I could handle just being a girl for a while, I think... if it was just like my old life. It's freaky how quickly this all became regular. But school? Rolling out of bed every day at 7, in a body that desperately requires sleep, and sitting still for all these subjects that I either know nothing about, or forgot... and if I fail, I'm not the one who gets fucked, Lauren is. I have to learn for her. That's stressful."

"You're not used to looking out for others," I surmised.

"Not really," he sipped.

"And the social aspect, being out among Lauren's friends?"

"A different hell," he said, "They all demand, like, 100% of my attention, and I know nothing about them. I keep texting Lauren to say this girl said this, or this other girl asked if I remembered that. I can't just go home and forget about them, because it's constant texting and snapchatting and all that shit. Kids today."

"You sound like such an old man," I stifled a laugh, much to her annoyance.

"Then there's the guys."

I straightened my expression. "Tell me about the guys."

"Well, they're guys," he said knowingly. He paused and rolled his eyes. "Lauren was pretty popular with them. Like, they all hang out in these huge mixed groups and it's hard to tell who's exclusive with who and who's just... around. A lot of them feel pretty comfortable getting in close with her. With me."

"And how do you feel about this?"

"I don't like it," he said, "The first thing I did when I met Lauren's friends was to find out which one of these guys she was dating and end it with him."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that," he snapped his little fingers, producing a weak sound, "This isn't like your situation, where you're living with a guy that has a history with Tasha and there's a kind of responsibility there, whatever you've decided... this is a high school romance, they come and go with the wind. Sure, everyone was ticked that I screwed up their prom plans a bit, but they'll get over with."

"Prom?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get me started. Lauren's expected to be there. She was on the planning committee."

I could sense he wanted to change the subject, so I asked "Any word from you-know-who?"

"Not yet," he said, sitting back dejectedly, pushing his straw around his drink with his finger.

You-know-who is the hypothetical "New Tyler." We got word earlier this week that our original bodies had both turned up.

"You know, it was probably just a hectic week," I reasoned. "When we changed, our heads weren't exactly in a place to confront it... not to this degree."

"Didn't take me long, though," he huffed, eying his cell in its light purple case. "I had nothing urgent going on. It's not like there was much to distract him."

"Maybe it was an old man who just doesn't get technology," I shrugged, "Maybe it was a kid! You don't know."

"You know, though. With yours."

A beat of silence passed between us.

It happened Wednesday. I got a call from my old number that day. I eagerly picked up to hear what I took a moment to realize was my original voice asking, "Is this Meghan? Meghan Reis?"

She pronounced it "Ree-is," I corrected her, "Rice," almost as a reflex before realizing I was essentially dealing with a trauma victim. "Sorry, I'm here for you. Are you okay?"

"I think so," she said. "My name's Carrie. Um, I came looking for my brother. Tyler Blake. Do you know what happened to him?"

I got a lump in my throat. "He's fine..." I started to say, "Well, not exactly. But he's here, in once piece, in someone else's body."

"So he was transformed too?" I cold now hear a similar Alabammy twang to Ty's.

"Yes," I said, "Into a teenage girl named Lauren. He's... stressed, but coping." I rightly guessed he would not enjoy hearing that his sister had come to Maine on his pre-transformation recommendation. ("I can't believe I forgot I said she should come up!" he excoriated himself, "Fucking idiot, Ty!" But in his defense it was a busy few days afterward, no time to cancel the invite.)

"Carrie," I said to her, "Everything's going to be okay. I'm sorry this happened, really, but we had no way of knowing... do you know what happened to Ty's body?"

"'Scuse me?"

"Have you seen him? Have you seen someone who looks like your brother?"

"Not yet, no."

"Let us know if you do. Please."

By Sunday, it had been four days since the transformation and the lack of communication was clearly getting to Ty. Now it's been almost a week and we're starting to worry.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat some more and we changed the subject again. "What about you? How about Tasha's boyfriend?"

"Wade?" I said, "It's... fine. He works days, and I'm working nights mostly, so I can easily just play the no-time together card. I've managed to stop pulling away instinctively when he goes to kiss me."

"How far are you willing to take this little charade?" he asked with fairly obvious intent.

"We're in the trenches right now, Ty," I sighed, "Long term, I don't know how I'm going to stick it out, but day to day, whatever happens happens. And that's whatever I allow to happen. And if I do, I assure you it won't be because I can't resist."

Tyler exhaled, unimpressed, then finished his drink, "Imagine if Tasha had gone to Maine with her boyfriend instead of her stepsister."

I smiled, then said teasingly, "Yeah. Then it would be easier to avoid having to sleep with someone."

I don't think he appreciated the joke.

Tyler: Screwing it up

Meghan - the girl I met the other day - knew of a nice little bar where we could sit and chat, although we found ourselves yelling over the band, so my voice is a little hoarse. It was a good evening, though. We played darts, and I mused about how odd it was that bars still encourage people to get liquored up and play with sharp objects.

"Tradition can be a powerful force," she reasoned. I agreed.

Eventually, her friends showed up and we made it a double date, although I felt a little shut out. Maybe I'm just a little self-conscious, being the non-academic type. I'm not an idiot, but I'm an uneducated SOB compared to these people. Really, I just think it was because I was the new guy, the fish out of water, and Meghan has known Jess and Erik for years.

Afterwards, Meghan and I went for another walk. It was very romantic, with the dim lighting and the sound of waves lapping in the distance. After a while we just sort of stopped talking and I got real nervous. So I did what I always do in these situations... I fucked it up.

I stopped in my tracks, put my hand on her shoulder and gave her a kiss.

She seemed startled. And a little embarrassed. She pecked back, but it wasn't exactly a big passionate moment. In fact, she slipped a little, with her bad knee, which made me feel bad.

"Sorry," she said, "I just wasn't expecting that. I'm not really sure what I'm doing here right now. Sorry if that's confusing."

"It's confusing," I admitted, "But you don't have to be sorry."

"It's just, this setting, us alone, the fantasy aspect of a tall, dark stranger... it's a lot to process. You can get lost in the moment pretty easily and I'm just not sure I should be looking for a vacation fling."

"I respect that," I sighed.

We started to walk back, "For the record," she said, "I'm not saying no. Just not sure it's a yes yet."

What can I say? Women.

After I got back to the Inn there was more weirdness, with basically everyone else shut up in their rooms. Like, guys, it's just after midnight. You're on vacation. Live a little.

I got a text from my little sister Carrie, who was wondering what I was up to. I'm not on bad terms with my family, but she's probably the only one I would want knowing my whereabouts. And truth be told, a vacation might do her good, so I suggested she find her way up here from Alabama if she can. It was more of a courtesy invite, though. I know money's tight for her, and I doubt she has a vacation fund.