Dave/Chris General Update

I thought I should give everyone an update on what's been happening. The last time I wrote anything was for my birthday, which was 2 months ago. Before I start on any updates, I've noticed that Aiden/Emilia has started calling his (her) sons by their current names and using female pronouns. I haven't done this with Shane. Obviously, everyone else calls him Sylvia and "she", but I call him Shane, and he calls me Dave when we're alone and he hasn't asked me to change that. I think it might make things easier when we change back, and when you're talking to someone, you don't tend to use pronouns at all. This is the only place where I still call him Shane, and "Him". When I talk about him to anyone else, he's obviously Sylvia and "She". I'm not going to change that here, unless there's a reason to.

Anyway....The cafe normally shuts for a week or so over Christmas, and we saw no reason to change this while we were here. We were looking at going away somewhere, but everything was too expensive. We'd left things too late to get any sort of a bargain. "Why don't we go to Indy for Christmas?" suggested Shane. "I'd like to see how things are at home, and we don't have to pay for accommodation, and we don't have any other expenses like renting a car." It sounded like a good idea, so we looked and managed to find a decently priced flight for December 23 to Indy.

It was a strange feeling when we arrived. It's the city I grew up in and know very well, but this body has probably never been there, and nobody I know would ever guess that it's me. We went to our respective houses when we arrived, and decided to have some time for ourselves, before Shane would come to my house on Christmas day for a meal. I never had much to do with the neighbours, and I doubt they even realised that the house was unoccupied since September. It didn't look too bad. I'm sure if it had been left over summer, things would have looked a lot worse, with an overgrown garden, but over winter, not much grows. The first thing I did when I got inside was to open the fridge to get a beer. As soon as I opened it, I was hit by a disgusting smell. I hadn't really thought about it, but of course, I was expecting to only be gone for a couple of weeks, so I didn't clear anything out, and now everything in there had gone off - apart from the beer. I spent the next hour cleaning out unidentifiable mouldy containers and bought some baking soda to soak up the stench. I can't imagine how bad it would have been if we didn't come back until May. I also bought groceries for Christmas dinner. 

It was nice to feel the familiarity of home again, even though my body is quite a bit different to when I was there last, but as I sat in front of the TV, watching whatever rubbish was on, I managed to completely forget about that as well - to the extent that when I had to visit the bathroom, I stood in front of the toilet and forgot that I don't have a cock right now. That hasn't happened to me since the early days of the transformation. When I went to bed, I grabbed a pair of shorts out of my drawer and realised how big they are on me now. I still wore them, just for the familiar feeling, and it was great to be able to sleep in my own bed again.

The next day, I went to my shop. It was still locked up, and the note in the window still said that it would be reopening in late September. I updated it to say May, hoping that I hadn't lost too many customers in my absence. Then I went to one of my favourite restaurants for lunch. I was a regular there for many years, and it was an odd experience to sit there, and recognise all the staff and some of the customers that I've known for years, but for nobody to know who I was.

For Christmas, Shane came by at around lunchtime. He brought some dessert he had made the day before, and then we cooked a nice meal. I'm amazed at how well it turned out, because neither of us were very good cooks before, but working in a cafe and cooking and baking every day for a few months really improved our skills. Even though we never made a proper Christmas dinner before, cooking and baking skills are transferable, and the dinner was delicious and very filling. When we go back to our normal lives, it's something I'll take with me that will be a positive from this experience. We agreed not to get each other presents. There's the whole issue of who to get them for - would I be buying something for Shane or for Sylvia? It was just easier not to do it at all. I just enjoyed being home again, and revelling in the familiarity of it all. Over the time we were home, I spent a lot of time just walking around town, or even just staying at home. I met Shane for dinner a couple of times and we went out to a few of the bars that we used to visit.

On the last night before we flew out, we went out to a cocktail bar that I used to go to with my ex-wife. I don't know why I suggested it - maybe because I was with Shane, who happens to be a hot woman right now, and I kind of wanted to go on a date. I don't know....but while we were there, Stacey, my ex-wife walked straight past our table. She obviously didn't recognise either of us, but I watched her, and she walked to a booth, where a man she was with was waiting for her. He gave her a kiss as she sat down. We've been divorced for a few years, but it's the first time I've seen her with another man, and I felt like I'd been punched in the guts. All I could think about was that this is the guy who replaced me. He's the one who spent Christmas at my house, with my wife and my daughter. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't - I had to stay to see what was happening. Shane urged us to go somewhere else, but I wouldn't. Instead, I asked him to follow her into the bathroom the next time she went, and find out who the guy is. I know it wasn't a good idea, and Shane told me so, but I was adament, and eventually he agreed. After what seemed like hours, I saw her get up and walk past our table to get to the bathroom. Shane got up and followed her. Then he seemed to be gone for a long time before he came back, chatting with my ex, like they were best friends. "Hi I'm Stacey", she said as she got to our table. "Hi, I'm Chris", I replied, as nonchalently as I could, with my heart beating at 100 miles an hour. "Nice to meet you, Chris", she said. "You two have a good time, I have to get back to Brett." I'm glad she left when she did, because I'd already started sweating. 

"So what did she say?" I asked when Stacey was out of earshot. "Well", he started. "Firstly, I'm always amazed how easy it is to start a conversation with a woman in the bathroom, as a woman. I just told her that I liked her dress and it was like we were old friends. It's so much harder for men to start conversations." "Yeah, but what did she say?" I asked, getting impatient. "Well I found out that his name is Brett, and that they're getting married in the summer". I felt like I'd been punched in the guts even harder. "Are you sure you want me to go on?" he asked. "Yes, I need to know", I pleaded. "Well...I asked her if she'd been married before and she wasn't too complimentary about you." He continued. "What did she actually say", I asked again. "I don't think this is very helpful, and I don't know if I should tell you", he said with a concerned look. "You don't look well". "Please, I have to know", I begged. "OK. She said that you were a loser and she doesn't know what she ever saw in you, and the only good thing that came out of it was your daughter". I started to feel physically ill "Anything else?" I whispered. "No. That was it. she didn't seem too keen to keep talking about it. The rest of the conversation was just girl talk."

I had to go home. I really felt like I was going to throw up. We shared an Uber and got to my house first. I wanted Shane to come in with me. My emotions were all over the place and I wanted him to come up with me. Maybe I wanted to have sex with him...I'm not really sure. "Please stay over", I said, and grabbed his hand. He looked at me and obviously sensing what I had in mind said "No. I don't think it's a good idea. If you need to call me later, then call, and we can talk. I'll come by for breakfast tomorrow and then we can go to the airport together. But I don't think you're in a good state of mind right now"

The Uber drove off and I went inside and started to sob. I think even after the divorce, I thought that I could get somehow get back together with Stacey, or at least that we could get along well enough to spend holidays together with our daughter. I couldn't sleep that night, and the next day, Shane came over for breakfast as promised, and we got a ride to the airport to go back to San Francisco. I wasn't in the mood for talking, so it was a very quiet trip back.

Back in San Francisco, we had a low key New Years with friends of Chris and Sylvia, and the change of scenery made me feel better. I slipped back into Chris' life, and the feelings I had in Indy seemed like a lifetime away (which it kind of is). One thing I came to realise is that Chris lives a far more fulfilled life than I do. He has a wife, and a social life in a welcoming community, where he is well known and loved. I have my business, my friendship with Shane and not much else. And ever since I realised this not long after occupying this body, it's made me wonder whether I should even go back. The only thing I was holding onto was the hope that I could reunite with my family. Now that this seems impossible, I don't know what the point of going back is anymore. I can't keep this life, because I'm pretty sure that Chris and Sylvia want to come back, and in any case, I don't want to live out my life as a trans man.

I managed to get reservations for the reopening of the Inn, in the same room that we had when we were transformed, which should pretty much guarantee that we're going back to our original lives. But the question is whether I want to.

Aidan/Emilia: Hardest Moment as a Dad

I'd had vague ideas of seeing the Dylan movie after my double today - the kids roll their eyes at the trailer, because Bob Dylan is just an old weirdo to them, they imprinted on Walk Hard young and can't take any musician biography seriously, and apparently retain the teenage boy view of Timothée Chalamet as kind of too pretty and effeminate rather than swooning like young women - but the shop was nearly as crazy as the day after Thanksgiving, so I wound up just heading home with the intent of seeing if the bubble bath with a bottle of wine was all it's cracked up to be.  When I got up to the apartment, though, the light was on and Kutter was sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the couch, three empty beer bottles on the floor in front of her and a half-finished one in her hand. 

It made me stop short, some instinct telling me to give her space rather than run up to her, though I squatted to get in her eyeline.  "Hey, bud, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and a swig from the bottle.  "I'm pretty sure I know why Katey isn't coming back."

"Oh?"  I didn't feel a need to prompt; like with Rusty at the gym, Kutter will let worries out if you give her space and a little permission. 

And it came out.  There were already a bunch of cars in the driveway and on the curb, so the rideshare driver dropped her a couple houses down.  There was a girl about her age playing with a baby in the snow in one yard, and she lit up when she saw "Katey", picking the boy up and waving.  Katey recognized her from Instagram, and she introduced her to the kid, then expressed surprise that she was back after mostly spending the holidays at school. She said she watched all Katey's TikToks, but then lowered her voice.  "Looks like a crowded house over there.  I'm going to be here all weekend, so stop in any time you need a break. Any. Time."

Kutter thought that was odd, but maybe it was some private joke.  She took a breath and went into Katey's family home.

It was not like our Christmases; there were little kids running around, multiple people unwrapping at once rather than building suspense and asking what gave you that idea, cousins who wanted to know everything about the big city, and uncles and aunts that she did a pretty good job of pretending to know by noting anyone calling and responding to names.  Dinner was noisy chaos.  She was ready to go to sleep by ten, earning cracks about not getting much of New York's nightlife.

Around 1am, she woke up.  Katey's father was straddling her, unbuckling his pants.

"What?!"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  So, obviously, I started to scream, and he put a hand over my mouth, like, hard enough to press my head down into the mattress.  I remembered the lamp on the bedside table, and reached out for it, but he used his other hand to pin it down.  So, I figured, I don't go to the gym like you and Rusty, but I've got really bony knees, and I rammed one right into his balls as hard as I could."

I gaped at the matter-of-fact way she said that., but..  "Good for you."

"Yeah.  He fell backward, which meant he was kind of sitting on my legs and too heavy to move, so I grabbed that lamp and smashed it into the side of his head.  Twice, when it looked like he was about to punch me in the face."  She took a deep breath.  "He fell off the bed, so I jumped up and ran outside, barefoot, and banged on the next-door neighbor's door.  I kept looking over my shoulder, and I think the door to Katey's parents' house had opened by the time her friend's dad took a look at me and yanked me inside."

She looked at her beer, and put it down, thinking.  "So, obviously, this had happened before, but I'm guessing that the last time, Katey didn't say quite so plainly that her father tried to rape her, because they all kind of winced at the word.  Then they asked if I wanted to call the police, and I said what I wanted was to get the fuck back to New York and never come back there again."  She stopped and looked up at me.  "Should I have stayed and filed a report?  He deserves to go to jail, but I just wanted to run like a coward--"

"Hey."  I inched a little closer.  "Given the situation w're in, you probably did all you could do.  Just practically, by the time it were to go to trial, it would be someone else who would have to testify against him.  Plus, I looked up sex crime statistics when we first changed, and--"

She nodded.  "Yeah, so did I.  Still..."  She finished her beer.  "I just don't get it, though!  It's sick, and I'm not even sexy like you and Rusty!  Why the hell would he do this to me, or her?"  She stumbled forward and grabbed me, burying her face in my shoulder for the first time in a long time.

I let out a sigh of relief, because I had just started to figure she might be afraid of me after that.  I patted her on the back.  "Hey, I don't know, and I'm glad I don't know, and you don't know.  I'm glad the thought just doesn't enter our heads.  I don't think it's even about attraction, though.  I think he just wanted to have his daughter completely under his thumb and scared of him.  Heck, coming back for the first time in years, he probably wanted to show Katey who was boss."

I could feel her nodding, and then something struck her, and she pulled back.  "Wait, what about Katey?  Why the hell didn't she warn me about this?  Did she like it?  I mean, okay, it was scary, but the whole flight back here, I couldn't help but think how lucky I was because if he'd really wanted me unable to move, he could have, but if she didn't resist--"

"Hey.  You don't know, I don't know.  Look, think of how scared and confused you are now, and imagine, well, I don't want to say imagine it was your dad--"

"You would never!"

"Thank you.  But someone like that can tell his daughter it's normal and she'll believe him.  Maybe right up until she gets a chance to leave."  I shrugged.  "I mean, I don't know.  This is all new to me, too. Real girls would probably know better.  Or maybe not.  Shame makes people do strange things, especially when the person in question shouldn't be ashamed."

She shrugged.  "I guess.  Anyway, they offered to book me a ticket and lend me some clothes, but then I realized I had left my wallet and phone over in the bedroom, so the dad said to stay there.  I did, and about half an hour later he was back with my purse, phone, and carry-on bag.  I'm not sure how he convinced Katey's father to let him in to get them.  I had to connect in Atlanta to get back here, but I was out of that town early this morning.  Then you got in, and we're allll caught up."

She stood, grabbing her head and looking kind of dizzy.  "Whoa, I don't think I've slept or eaten anything but the beer since then.  I think I need to sleep more, though.  G'night."

I said I'd leave my door open if she needed to talk more, and she nodded.  She'd started to walk off when I said "one more thing."

She looked at me, curious, as I stood.  "Part of me wants to let that thing about how you're not sexy go, because, well, it's weird for me, and as a dad I don't necessarily want you thinking of yourself as a sexy girl, but you are.  Like, I'm not sexy like this.  I'm what guys your age, your real age, think is sexy before they've learned what they really like.  You're kind and funny and good at what you do and you seem at ease in your skin, even though it's not your skin anymore.  You're sexy as heck and you shouldn't think that's a bad thing or try to be less than you are because of one bad day."

The corners of his lips twitched upward for the first time that night.  "Uh, okay.  Thanks."  Then she turned and went to her room.

Me, I immediately texted Rusty to find out if she was all right.  She texted back a thumbs up and then a selfie of herself drinking margaritas with some of Monica's cousins.

Don't know if I'll get to sleep myself.

-Aidan/Emilia

Aidan/Emilia: Well, that was a weird Christmas

It starts with the kids and I actually kind of more in sync than most mornings - they both had to catch morning flights, so we wound up sitting around the little tree at 5am, dressed in slippers and the sweatpants and t-shirts we'd slept in.  Didn't even put on a bra, so I'm sure my nipples will be in every picture we took.  I laughed, saying that it seemed like only yesterday they were so eager to see what Santa had brought them that they got up before dawn until they became teenagers who slept in practically until noon.  Rusty said that still sounded like a great plan.

After last week's hemming and hawing, I eventually decided to get them things that would be useful now and that I could see them bringing home.  For Kutter, that was a camera and some accessories - a ring light, a gimbal stabilizer, and an external hard drive.  The camera probably wasn't much better than what she's got in her phone, but it's good to have something built for a job sometimes.  Rusty got a Blu-ray player and what the guy at the store assured me was a good starter pack of Korean movies that could be hard to find on streaming services.  This apartment actually doesn't have any device that plays discs (welcome to being a zoomer, Aidan!) and the one in the living room back home is old.

With each other, they were oddly sensible - chocolates and coffees and craft beers and bottles of hot sauce with an alarming amount of flames on the packages (Rusty, of late, has discovered that she really likes a lot of spice and heat on occasion, after she went to some local ethnic eatery and they deemed her Asian enough to handle the "real" version of a dish), stuff that they figured they would use up in the next few months even if they only had the good stuff every once in a while.  

I got some of that from them, too; ciders and the fanciest box of artisanal peanut butter cups you've ever seen (they've been buying me the tree-shaped boxes of Reese's since they were five and six, so this is a bit of an upgrade).  Kutter got me an autographed "Advanced Reading Copy" of a thriller by a favorite author that should be big next summer.  Rusty discovered that apparently Atari still exists and is selling updated versions of 30-year-old game consoles, so she got me one of those and some cartridges, which I guess means I'm not totally introducing her to the idea of physical media.

(There were also some gag gifts that I'd prefer not to discuss - what was the idea behind competing over who could get the other the most outlandish heels?)

Then Kutter beat Rusty to the shower but was quicker than usual, and soon they were dressed, made-up, and on their way out the door.  I felt like I should have accompanied them to the airport or seen them off, but it would have just been taking the subway even if one wasn't going to JFK and the other to Laguardia.  Just a reminder that I was not properly dad-ing.

Soon, though, it was my turn to shower and dress for the holiday, which I'd left in the hands of the kids, telling them this would not be a good time for pranks.  I still kind of felt like they were kidding me - candy-cane tights, a sparkly green skirt, and a sweater with a reindeer on it that didn't hide much of my figure and which didn't feel entirely appropriate for Zooming with the parents - but apparently, it was:  Emilia's mom and her little sister were wearing matching sweaters even though full breasts apparently run in the family and her sister is still a senior in high school.  When I opened the box they'd shipped, it was from Victoria's Secret and contained both flannel pajamas and some new variety of bra that Emilia's mother swears by.  I'd sent gift cards, and so had they, with a pre-loaded Visa debit card discretely slipped into a card so the little sister didn't have to see it.  We somehow managed small talk with me drawing on Facebook and "Mom" remembering what it was like to just be starting out in a new city.

The call with her father was a little different.  There was a stepmother who said hi at the start but then busied herself in the background; I gather she and Emilia never became close.  Her dad asked if I was already looking for new work since the bookstore would likely be a last-in-first-out situation, and I lied and said yes.  Lots more questions about if I was being careful in the big city, and I admit I did chuckle at one point when he used some exact words I'd spoken to Rusty & Kutter, although I bluffed and said we'd had this exact conversation at graduation when he asked what was funny.  Anyway, I'd sent him gift cards and he had done the same, plus some nice gloves that you don't have to take off to use your phone and a knit jester's hat.  He didn't feel the need to be discrete about having sent a prepaid debit card.

After that second call, I did the thing where I retreated to Emilia's room and flopped backward on her bed, feet touching the floor, and just staring at the ceiling for a bit.  I used to do it because being a girl has just been too much for me, but today it was the lying, and also something seemingly bigger than that.  The parents were my age, and Emilia's sister less than a year older than Kutter, and it was something to really do the full role-reversal; dizzyingly strange at points and all too easy at others.  It's one thing to put on a bra and work an entry-level job and scrape to pay rent but then come home and be able to be yourself with your kids (I've done some of that before and at a certain level you just accommodate your body until you can tune any signals of discomfort it's sending out), but immersing yourself in someone else's life, even for a couple of hours, is something different.

And on top of that, I knew that pretty soon, Kutter & Rusty were going to be doing it even more than I was.  Maybe better?  After a while, it led me to thinking about the guilt I'd felt about not being able to drive them to the airport earlier, and how over the past couple of months, I've slowly been relating to them more as roommates than as Dad, even with the morning's sentimental gifts, and they were about to get the better part of a week of people just relating to them as parents with their kids.  And mothers!  They would have mothers for the first time in a decade!  Two people doting on them and worrying about them that they didn't have to share with their brothers!

I don't think I quite had a panic attack, but I laid there a while.  Then, some time later, I realized I was hungry, because I hadn't actually had any breakfast and it was 1pm or so by then.

For some folks, that's bad, they'll feel like they don't deserve food or binge or the like, but it tends to hit me as "here's a problem you can deal with, so tend to that".  So I did.  I grabbed a coat, plus the gloves and hat Emilia's father had given me, and went downstairs, glad I was in New York.  Lots of places were closed, but lots of places weren't, and while they were quieter than usual, they weren't sad, empty places that reminded you that you were sad and lonely.  No, there were lots of people grabbing a slice of pizza for lunch for whatever their own reasons were and it was kind of no big deal.

Then I kept going, explored New York at Christmas.  Sure, it doesn't quite snow like it used to here, so maybe it's not the exact sort of magical that it used to be, but I only saw that in the movies and on TV, so I walked through Central Park, through Times Square, up Broadway, and every other thing Emilia's phone could find that was a noteworthy Christmas decoration.  And the thing about New York's bigness is that, while it's often annoying when you're packed into a bus or tourists are choking downtown, it can also mean that things can be done at scale.  Some of it just isn't possible anywhere else, certainly not in our suburb or the nearest city.

Of course, another part of New York is that it gets dark at 4:15 or so this time of year on top of being cold.  I decided to treat myself, found a nice steakhouse, and let them all wonder about the pretty girl having a steak, red wine, and ice cream by herself on Christmas.  Then back home and more time playing Atari than since I was eight (though we probably had a Nintendo by then).

And then, writing this, because the crazy day seemed to need summing up.  Tomorrow, back to work!

-Aidan/Emilia

Aidan/Emilia: Christmas Shopping

So much of it!  And not just because of all the hours I'm working at the bookshop (lots of overtime - a couple folks quit and someone chose a lousy week to have Covid)!

This is not, by the way, a "Oh, now you know what ladies go through at the holidays" thing.  I've been a single dad for over a decade managing Christmas decorations and shopping on my own, and sometimes money has been tight.  It's just figuring out what would be appropriate 

For instance, we dug through the back of various closets and found that there was a small artificial tree and a string of LED lights that Emilia had apparently bought for her dorm room or college apartment.  It's small, maybe the and a half feet tall, but so is the apartment.  We pushed the coffee table into a corner and set it up in top of that.  Kutter and Rusty are going to have to improvise foot rests for when they're gaming on the couch, but they made that sacrifice willingly. 

Decorating ours, though, was surprisingly deflating.  There are years printed on most ornaments, whether store-bought or homemade, and every year I discover anew that they can be profoundly powerful reminders of how Kutter and Rusty have grown and what has persisted, what Christmas was like for me as a kid, and remember the ones we spent as a family before losing their mother.  The various ones Emilia, Katey, and Monica have left behind mean little to us.  Maybe even less, because they were willing to abandon them. We wound up putting them back in their boxes and buying some new ones.  I went for a couple specifically featuring New York while the girls went goofy - honestly, who even puts a loop of string on a miniature pair of heels and calls that festive? - so that they would mean something later. 

It's trickier to do the same sort of thing with the actual shopping - should I be shopping for teenage boys or young women?  It doesn't seem right to look for things that they will be leaving behind in a few months - although I suppose they may be mementos of their time here - nor to get them things that won't seem relevant until May.  After all, buying teenagers something that they'll still be interested in six months from now is difficult in the best cases, and who knows how this experience will leave them changed on the other side..

Yeah, I guess I'm shopping for Katey and Monica.  Of course, there's also the question of the family living our lives now, so maybe we should be getting "Aidan", "Kutter", and "Rusty" something.  The kids and I have talked it over a bit, but we're actually having a little trouble coming up with something appropriate that we wouldn't have mentioned three months ago.  Rusty as suggested just a card involving Santa dresses and the caption "Wish You Were Here!", at least until I pointed out that the girls living their lives were also underage and that would be inappropriate on so many levels.  She still wants the picture, though.

And then, there's the big one - these girls' families.

It's the twenty-first century, so there are social media posts hinting at interests and Amazon wishlists for when you don't want to leave anything to chance.  I've been texting with Emilia's (divorced) parents to get ideas about what to get her sister and vice versa, and also to let them know that their daughter won't be able to make it home because I'm working late Christmas Eve and early on the 26th, because rent in Brooklyn is expensive.  They're disappointed, but understand.  It's kind of a relief to me, since it means that there's a good chance I'll get through this whole thing and not have to lie about who I am to their faces and think about why Emilia left them behind.

The kids aren't so lucky.

Katey and Monica were both only children, and with neither Kutter nor Rusty having taken any time off, they've got a little PTO and floating holidays that they can't roll over into next year, so there's really no excuse, especially since Monica's father already bought her a round-trip ticket.  Katey's parents haven't been quite so insistent, but they too mentioned that they haven't seen her since graduation, so she's booked a ticket herself.

On the one hand, this is logical, they answer to "Monica" and "Katey" without ever missing a beat by now, never forget themselves and do things a woman wouldn't, and they've been less timid about responding to folks who knew the originals on Facebook or the like than I am.  On the other hand, despite them working full-time jobs and not sticking to soda when we do bar trivia every Monday and regularly getting into taxis driven by strangers on their own, they're kids.  This will be their first unsupervised travel, and as pretty young women besides.  On the one hand, it probably shouldn't scare me too much - they handle the New York subway system on a daily basis, which is probably more dangerous than suburbs and regional airports, on top of being more complex.

They're not that worried about shopping, saying that whatever they get, these other parents will appreciate the thought, and vice versa.  Which, I'll admit, is true.  It still seems overwhelming to me, though.

-Aidan/Emilia

Andi/Andy: Weird Christmas Break

For those who feel like I left my last post on a cliffhanger, Andy's date with Len was, sadly, not a disaster. I'm mostly happy about that, I guess. As much as it puts them on a path to having sex before we switch back, it's not like I want Andy to feel like his friend is rejecting him, and I sort of like the idea that he might find me attractive, even if a lot of it comes from actually clicking with his friend. It kind of took talking to Mom and Dad about it to think about it that way, and I don't know if I really fell it, but it could be worse. Andy isn't really that hot on getting that intimate with a guy anyway, so he'll probably be able to take it slow.

Plus, it's created more excuses to hang out with my friend Shawna.  Andy kind of likes to have me around when he and Len are out to kind of cool things off and warn him when he's getting out of character, so we find a way to invite her to keep anyone from feeling like a third wheel.  At first, it was super-awkward - she knew what was up in general, if not the extent of it, obviously, and didn't know what to say to "Andy" when "Andi" and "Len" were focusing on each other, but, hey, she suddenly realizes she can talk to "him"-slash-me.  It kind of works out.

Or I hope it does.  If she's trying to send me signals that I should ask her out...

At least being on break means we're not dealing with school right now.  It looks like there's another round of Covid chaos coming up, but at least it's not spending all day worried we'll get called out for not being nearly as knowledgeable in the classroom as we are on our homework - we try to write our own essays and stuff even if we can't take our own tests, hoping like heck that schools aren't going to weight SATs much because we can't fake that.  It's really stressful trying to be both Andi and Andy depending on the hour.

Especially for Christmas!  Since Mom and Dad know the truth and we weren't Zooming with the grandparents to start the morning, we must have looked weird under the tree, with the guy psyched about the Taylor Swift album on vinyl and the girl whooping at some football player's bobblehead (we're not total stereotypes but we're not exactly the opposite of what you'd think if you saw us with our normal bodies).  Mom and Dad like taking reaction pictures, which look screwy, although we kind of had fun recreating them so that they could have some to post on Facebook.  We kind of hammed it up a bit.

Still, the calls with the grandparents were awkward.  They'd mailed us presents from Florida and wanted to watch us open them, so I fake looking excited at what they got Andy and he acts like the hat with the pom-pom on it is way cuter than it is.  I mean, it's pretty cute, but he's not exactly into cute for himself, so he overdoes it a bit.

Lying to them sucks.  Lying to everyone sucks, but lying to them sucks more, and I hate that I'm kind of relieved that they couldn't fly up for the holidays so that I didn't have to be lying to them full time.

-Andi-with-an-I

Simon/Joy: The Cinderella Thing

The details of "Cinderella" are girly as they come, but we all use it on a regular basis, although for guys, it's mostly about underdogs in sports - such and such a team wasn't expected to go to the tournament, but they were "invited to the ball" and... well, you get it.  There's a kind of winking to it, too, because it's funny to refer to the big dudes playing college basketball as princesses; most guys probably wouldn't actually refer to D-III school whose women's basketball team makes it to the finals against UConn as a "Cinderella story"; they'd just be underdogs.  But here's a thing:  In sales, you play on guys playing out Cinderella fantasies all the time.  You don't call it that, but when you get tickets so that a client can sit in the sort of expensive roof boxes that they either couldn't afford or wouldn't splurge for, or when you give them the chance to shake hands with a celebrity - that's total Cinderella stuff.  I don't really get a chance to do that when selling real estate right now - the closest I get is getting an idea of if anybody famous lives in a neighborhood and when they'd most likely be visible - but there was a reason my office back in Cleveland had season tickets for every team, and why I knew the right guy to talk to for special backstage access to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame:  Folks dig feeling like a prince(ss), and they will think better of you if you give them that feeling.

But you know what?  The actual, literal Cinderella thing isn't so bad either.

Anyway, you may remember that the last time I posted, Joy's ex Iain invited me to a party that happened to be in London.  It was actually surprisingly easy to do on short notice - when Iain's office sent me a first-class ticket to London (connecting through New York), it was for a Friday-afternoon flight, and we'd already planned to close the office early for travel.  Since the airport in San Diego is actually part of the city, it's easy to get to quickly, so I went straight from work, took a domestic flight across the country (idly wondering if Harmon was working it), and actually had plenty of time to get through customs before my transfer.  Both legs were first class, and when I got out of customs, Iain was actually waiting for me, wearing sunglasses and holding up a little sign, grinning at the goofiness of the gesture.  We air-kissed and he handed over a small bag with perfume, toothpaste,  mouthwash, and a few other sundries that TSA doesn't want you to put in your carry-on so that I could duck into a ladies' room and freshen up, all Joy's well-remembered favorites.  Once I was feeling a bit more human, he led me out to his Bentley and said he hoped I didn't mind, but he'd taken the liberty of having a dress made, and although he knew my measurements, it had been a couple years, so they may need to make a few alterations, although I look just the same. 

I took the compliment and allowed myself to gape a little when he pulled up to a very high-end dress shop, where the shopkeepers took me to a back room, had me strip to my undies, made a few measurements, had me try a dress on, and then gave each other a quick, gruff nod before handing me my clothing back and saying "ninety minutes".  This was just enough time to get me down the street to a salon where, as one woman teased my hair, another painted my nails, and yet another told me my pores were fantastic while covering my face with some cream to make them somehow more fantastic.  It took closer to two hours than ninety minutes all told, but when they finally let me look in a mirror, I was kind of astounded.  I still looked like Joy, obviously, but it was like the ideal form of Joy's face.  I trotted back to the dress shop, where they had a taller pair of black heels waiting because the floor-length gown they had made for me would drag on the floor without the extra height.

That's just one indication of how perfect the dress was.  It was black, but shimmered, its pattern all reflective circles.  I don't know if I'd say it made the most of my slender figure - it didn't push my breasts up and out, really - but it had a nice, non-showy curve beneath my underwire, and gave a hint that I had a butt without clinging, before getting comfortably-but-elegantly loose about my legs.  It was strapless, showing off my shoulders and my neck with my hair in a really perfect updo.  Iain beamed like he'd never seen something so beautiful when I walked out, before pulling out a jewelry box and finishing the look with a beautiful necklace and diamond earrings.

There's a bit of a tingle to the cool metal touching my chest, probably just because it had been out in his car, but...  "This doesn't feel like what you do for a 'work thing', Iain."

"Well, it's more a work thing with investors than employees.  I may have accidentally misled you there.  Worth it to see ye all dolled up again, though."

I blush, let him lead me to the car, and then to the party.

It's quite a thing, maybe the first time I've ever seen a ballroom really used for something like a ball.  I get to meet some folks who are fairly well-off trying to sell them houses, but this often seemed like another level.  It's the difference between "rich" and "wealthy", I guess, but everybody I met was very nice and really just had an aura about them, if that's not getting too feminine or deferential.  They all felt connected to power and resources, even the other bits of arm candy, and maybe, having desirable real estate to talk about, I was less there to do nothing but look pretty and make it look less like Iain was somebody people rejected. 

Still, I was glad to get out of those shoes when we got to his London apartment afterward - I've gotten to be a fair hand in walking in those things, but my typical day has more time at a desk or driving or the like, not standing for hours on end and even dancing while still kind of tired because I don't think I got more than four hours sleep in the previous twenty-four.

I actually conked out in Iain's recliner, but it actually had me waking up at a pretty reasonable six AM local time, hoping like hell that winding up spread-eagled with each foot dangling over an arm of the chair and that long, elegant dress hiked up past my knees, like I'd had some sort of nightmare about visiting the gynecologist or something, had happened after Iain had fallen asleep.  Not, I thought, how I'd want Iain to remember me or Joy.  For what it was worth, he was asleep on the couch, facing a different direction, apparently not willing to take the bed and make me decide whether or not I wanted to crawl in with him if I woke up before morning. 

Instead, I checked out the bathroom, wondering if the bottles of shampoo, lotion, and the like in there were bought for me or the property of the girl who dumped him. Being well-used to using someone else's stuff by now, I didn't feel any guilt as I lathered up in the shower, but him having full-sized bottles of women's product there said something, whether that he'd recently been really close to someone, that he was incredibly considerate and organized, or that he figured he'd need them for one lady or another soon enough.  At any rate, it got me clean and smelling nice.

He was cooking some bacon when I'd gotten dressed in jeans, sweater, and sneakers, and smiled as I came out of the bathroom.  "Now, there's a sight for sore eyes.  Why did we break up again?"

Telling him his girlfriend had died but her shape stayed at the hotel room would have sounded absurd, so I mentally dug through Joy's diary and email.  "If I remember correctly, you weren't quite so rich as to fly your girlfriend halfway around the world on a whim a couple years ago, and even if you were, I wasn't really looking to be something that rich guys shipped to and fro like cargo."

"Ach, ye got me there.  As to the first, it turns out that while I don't know shite about horses and I'm not exactly any sort of engineer myself, I am damn good at choosing which firms to invest in using the money the family made breeding racehorses for a hundred years or so.  Dad isn't really sure what to make of it, but when he finally listened to his doctors telling him to step back and then convinced me to become more involved in the business, he said that as long as I didn't risk the house where five generations of the family have lived, I had my head.  And what about you?  How are you different now?"

Oh, if only my life had a laugh track.  "Oh, I don't know.  Trying to build myself up while still not worrying about tomorrow too much, I guess.  I sometimes feel like I was a different person back then, you know?  Although not so different that I'm necessarily down for eight-time-zones-away for a day."

I'd started to pack my things, but moved to the bar as he set a couple plates down.  "Does it have to be just a couple days?  I know, you've got a job, so it's a big thing to ask, but I'd love to have you stay until the new year."

"Uh, wow, okay.  I mean, okay, I'm processing, but I'm sure you've got family stuff, and I don't know if I'd necessarily be welcome."

He seemed to wince a bit.  "Aye, things did get kind of complicated when we split, and they do keep me busy through Boxing Day.  But I've got the whole rest of the week, and I noticed you were planning on going back to California, so you were going to spend the holidays alone anyway...  Might as well do it here, right?  Why don't you call your folks; there's plenty of room!"

It sounded like a crazy idea, although he couldn't know how crazy inviting Joy's parents would be for me.  Fortunately, it was the middle of the night for them and it wouldn't have made sense to call right away (they totally would have answered a call from their daughter at that hour, assuming it was an emergency), so I could put that off.  I had to admit, Christmas in London in what was essentially a really nice AirBNB that I didn't have to pay for had a little more appeal than Treena being judgmental about me having let Iain spend what might have been a few grand on me, so I said yes.

First order of the day was dropping him at the airport so he could head to Scotland, and then I got to go shopping - I had, after all, only brought a carry-on with what I'd thought was a nice dress and something to wear on the flight home.  Finding a department store and buying some basics in a strange city on Christmas Eve is not something I would necessarily recommend as an experience everyone should have at least once, but it was weirdly exciting to be in the holiday crunch despite not exactly having a lot of people to shop for.  I'd sent Joy's parents gift cards and got a thing or two for Treena and Brian/"Simon", but the Inn had me doing even less than usual. 

(Speaking of Joy's folks, I extended them Iain's invitation, figuring they might take him up on it because they were originally from the UK, but between not wanting to leap right into holiday travel or be a third wheel for their daughter when it looked like she might get back together with that nice Scottish boy, they declined, albeit with a list of things for me to pick up and mail them once I was back home.)

I did pick a couple things up to give Iain when he arrived back in London, which aside from being polite also meant I felt like much less of a jerk when a delivery man rang the bell Christmas morning and presented me with a number of little presents from Iain.  Nothing really romantic, but some nice perfume, a funny t-shirt, some chocolate, and a book.  There was a small suitcase, too, since I obviously wouldn't fit all of that in my carry-on. 

One pleasant surprise that Iain didn't have much to do with its that I didn't have any trouble finding a place to eat on Christmas; though most restaurants are closed back home, eating out is a much a Christmas tradition in London as a big family dinner.  Most places were booked up in advance, but there were spots at the bars for both lunch and supper.  Got the number of a sympathetic bartender who heard my accent and figured being so far from home over the holidays was rough, although I never got around to calling it.  Someone told me I had to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special because he was regenerating into a woman, and maybe it's a bigger deal if you're a fan, but, man, he spent an awful lot of time moping over getting a new life and nothing else happened!  I stayed in reading my new book after that - more Joy's sort of thing than mine, I expect, but alright. 

I spent the 26th seeing stuff that maybe Iain would think weren't Joy's thing - the Churchill War Rooms, a Jack the Ripper tour, that sort of thing.  It's not hard to fill a day in London when you're still jet-lagged enough to roll out of bed at 1pm.

Then Iain came, I gave him his presents, and the rest of the week just flew by.  We did a bunch of touristy things - Abbey Road, the Eye, a horse-drawn hansom cab ride, the changing of the guard - ate some crazy good food, enough for me to joke about not fitting in that nice dress he'd bought me anymore ("that's the plan - I just couldn't bear you wearing it for anyone else!"), danced in some exclusive clubs...  It was a whirlwind, and when he leaned in to kiss me on Saturday night, I knew it wasn't just the girl he'd been hanging out with for the past few days that he was kissing, but I didn't care.  I wanted him to kiss me, and then I wanted him to make love to me, not just because I'm pretty straight as Joy and it had been a while, but because this is how the Cinderella story ends, and even if I didn't necessarily realize I was in one at the time, it takes hold of you. 

I worried for a second that he'd realize something was up because while he knew about spots on Joy's body that I hadn't found yet, I can't say her diaries were that detailed.  But, as much as he's a great guy, he's still a guy - pay enough attention to his dick, and he's not going to ask about other erogenous zones.  I maybe seemed a little surprise when I was kind of insistent about the condom - we've all learned Jonah's lesson - but he probably just figured she/I had some sort of scare in the past couple of years.

They weren't happy about me taking a last-minute vacation at work, at least until I came back recharged and excited.  I've got to admit - getting Joy's ex, and not just her ex, but arguably her "one", to go for me despite her having dumped and (from his perspective) ghosted him does kind of make me feel like I can sell anything.   Except, maybe, settling Treena on how our continuing to text in the two weeks since I've returned is a good thing. 

-Simon/Joy

Lindsey/Magda: Christmas with Me

I haven't spent a lot of time here talking about the people living my life and Harmon's, in part because I have a fair amount in front of me between me and him to deal with, and while Harmon spent a lot of time getting Coop ready for a conference in the past month, Debbie has been no trouble at all.  I kind of left her a life at a loose end, recently graduated from college but still trying to get into law school, so she's been able to put the LSATs on hold.  She's taken a job as an office assistant so that I don't have a glaring hole in my work history when I get back, and she and Coop have been paying down my student loans like crazy, making way more of a dent in the principle than I would have.  Harmon and I initially felt kind of strange about it, since he'd never offered, but the way Debbie figured it, she and Coop were married, married couples shared the bills, and that my bills were now her bills doesn't change that.

You could do a lot worse than Debbie Cooper living your life, folks.

Perhaps because she and her husband are great people, though, the holidays were figuring to be tough on them; it would be the first one without the chance to spend any time with their kids, even though they're all adults now.  Neither me nor Harmon has any sort of particular Christmas tradition that they had any need to maintain, but they weren't totally sold on the holidays being just the two of them.  I said that I'd invite them if there were any room at the apartment, they said they appreciated the gesture, and that was it for a bit, because it's really awkward to invite someone to come but make them pay to stay at a hotel.  Eventually, though, Harmon pointed out that they'd be spending his money, not their own, so just get a hotel room, though it's not like we'd be around for Christmas.

I relayed that, and Debbie said it was okay if we missed the day so long as we got to have a family dinner and exchange gifts.  So they booked a trip, and I traded a shift so that I was working the terminal when their plane arrived on Christmas Eve, and spent the whole weekend feeling nervous about it because that meant that there would be no chance to duck seeing them if any of us realized this was a terrible idea.  I was downright nervous as the board updated their flight information, and then it landed, taxied, and pulled in.  Half-fortunately, I had to give a few people directions to baggage claim, so I couldn't just watch the people coming off and fret about it.  I wound up just looking up, seeing Coop and Debbie, and raising a hand so they knew who I was.  They stepped up the pace and soon found me.  Debbie started to hug me, like with her arms already on either side, before pulling back and asking if it was too weird.

It was kind of strange, but maybe not as weird as it would have been a few months ago, although Skype and Facebook hadn't prepared me to be looking slightly upward toward my own eyes, even though I had an inch of heel and Debbie was wearing Keds.  That almost made it easier, though, and I pulled her in.  I did only extend a hand to Coop, though; as much as something inside me would have liked the guy with Harmon's shape holding me, it would have felt like taking something that wasn't his to give.

Instead, I stood back and looked at Debbie, half-amazed at the reminder that I'm really that young, with some of her choices really driving it home.  "So, has anyone figured out that you're impostors yet because he doesn't freak out about you wearing workout pants in public?"

She laughed.  "Oh, he does that, but if I'm only going to have your legs for a year, I'm getting the most out of 'em, and these leggings don't work unless your legs are actually sticks...  Not that your legs - either set! --"

Coop laughed at that, and I joined in.  "It's okay, Debbie - I've got more curves now than I had six months ago, and I'm okay with both situations, so long as you're not looking to take up permanent residence."

"Tempting as it may be, we're a package deal, and I don't think I could talk Coop into it, no matter how dapper he looks in a bow tie now."

We laughed again, and I told her I had about an hour left on my shift if they wanted to wait, or they could check into their hotel and maybe Harmon and I could meet them for dinner.  They were happy to wait, although when I called Harmon, he said he had a lot to do before his red-eye.  I put in a good word for the Coopers at the airline's VIP lounge, got a flight boarded, and then helped them get to the hotel on public transportation.  I took them to a Thai place that wasn't closing early despite it being Christmas Eve, then left them to their jet lag.

Harmon was just leaving as I got home, and gave me a quick hug as we passed.  I was pleasantly surprised at the number of things he'd left under the tree; maybe a few months as a woman has him enjoying shopping a little more.

The Coopers arrived early in the morning, and I spent the morning learning to make a few of Debbie's family recipes while Coop found some stuff to fix around the house until basketball started at 9am (East Coasters, especially guys, grumble about time zone stuff until they discover that you literally get sports and other stuff all day).  It was a ton of fun, even if the press weren't quite done by the time I had to leave for work.  Debbie promised they'd only sick around long enough to jet them out of the oven, and if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?

I had the 26th off  (yay inherited seniority!), so they were able to come back over and help me cook a ham.  Coop got involved in the cooking, too, peeling and mashing potatoes, making a supply run or two.  He was seeing the table when Harmon came in and saw his rightful face.

"Cooper."

"Professor Keller."

Nothing else was said, and Harmon retreated to his room to put away his work stuff and the grab some other clothes before heading to the bathroom and locking the door.  Debbie looked way more upset at that exchange than the the words would seem to for.  "We shouldn't have come.  I knew he'd still be upset."

Coop looked pained and offered to go back to the hotel.

I surprised myself a bit by stepping in.  "You'll do no such thing.  You did the best you could at that presentation, and he had no business asking you to go through with it.  He had two co-authors on that paper and could have just let them take the lead, but he can be so damn stubborn..."

Debbie put her hand on her husband's shoulder.  "She's right, you know.  Just as you have to accept that Shania can't do all your work, he should have made allowances.  You did the best you can, and I'm sure that he's come to realize that over the last couple weeks!"  I didn't contradict her, because I figured that Harmon not wanting to look bad by throwing a tantrum would have pretty much the same result.

I quickly ducked into my room to change out of my sweats, and Harmon had finished his shower by the time I came out.  He was wearing slacks and a not-really-ugly sweater, and raised his eyes at me in the Santa dress and hat.  "Looking to seduce Cooper?"

"No, I just want to try everything in Magda's closet and figured I wouldn't have another chance to wear this.  I'll go change."

"You'll do no such thing, because if you have to, then I have to."  Debbie was in the candy-cane tights again, with a pleated green skirt and a sparkly red top (she'd taken off her snowman sweater), while Coop looked very un-Harmon-like in jeans and at-shirt that looked like Santa's coat.  "Let's embrace the weird Christmas!"

We sat down at the table, ate, and talked about all the funny things that had happened this year.  I laughed a lot at Debbie's stories of my friends, while Coop nodded sagely at everything I could come up with about how airports and airlines have so many crazy layers of bureaucracy and security.  He talked about how academia was proving similar.  Eventually even Harmon joined in, talking about the "crash pad" apartments, guys who get hammered in first class, and the like.  It was kind of funny, in that we didn't really talk about being changed by the Inn, but just told these stories with a little bit of extra amazement at how bizarre the world could be.

No avoiding Inn stuff when we sat around the tree and exchanged presents.  I got Debbie and Coop a couple articles of clothing where she noted their size and said "I see what you're up to here", but mostly we tried to go for things that were either kind of silly or could work for us in both borrowed and real lives.

My big present for Harmon was a Kindle Fire preloaded with a few things that would make for bulky hardcovers.  I told him I knew he thought reading on a tablet wasn't the same, but this fit in his travel bag a lot better, and it would be easy to switch to Candy Crush in case he was afraid of having to explain why "Alicia" was reading graduate-level economics texts in a crowded apartment.

He surprised me with a pair of gift cards for custom bra fittings, saying that a passenger on a flight from San Francisco to New York had noticed him adjusting his straps during a flight and figured a flight attendant could give really good word-of-mouth for her start-up.  He said he was wearing one of his and was really amazed what a difference underwear that really fit could make in a woman's day, so he got me one for now and one for next summer.  Debbie went aaawwww and said now she wished Coop had been able to spend some time as a woman.

Coop's other present arrived that afternoon; he apparently makes eggnog with, like, a lot of rum in it every year, and got a few bottles speed to us, warning Harmon that he'd made it for some other folks in the faculty, so he may be fielding requests for more next year.

The party broke up at around seven, with Coop saying he hoped his body didn't run down this early ten or fifteen years from now.  It was the last time the four of us got to hang out together; with all the holiday travel, both Harmon and I were working a lot, and our shifts didn't really line up.  I think Harmon meet up with the Coopers once while I was working, and I get it - not only has Coop not fit into his life quite so easily as Debbie has fit into mine, but he both hadn't been in the area as much to show them around and tends to stay home rather than venture out as Alicia anyway.

I had a good time with them, though.  It's weird to say given all of our apparent ages and faces, but I felt kind of jealous of the folks who get to have the Coopers as their real full-time parents.  They're experienced, wise, and kind, and watching Debbie look like she really is my age made me feel like she must never have been out of touch.  She laughed at that - "you're not exactly the first generation to enjoy wearing short skirts, kid - you should have seen my older sisters in the 1970s!" - but I think she appreciated me saying so, even if I do look old enough to be her mother.

I made sure I worked the terminal when they flew out Sunday evening as well, and smiled as I watched them get on the plane holding hands and nobody seemed to be snickering about the age difference.  Sometimes, I guess, no matter what the Inn might do, you can just spot the good people who belong together.

-Lindsey/Magda

J.T./Elaine: All I Want for Christmas...

I haven't entirely got the double life I'm leading up to being a triple life, exactly, although I really admit that I do enjoy blowing off a little steam at the end of the workday and work-week.  Sometimes it's just with Jezzie, since both of Elaine's other best gal-pals are in relationships, but it still seems like a bit of a double role, switching from the sensible (but nice!) project manager in the day ("Elaine") to the more adventurous single girl at night ("Lainey").  I even have to change how I talk, at least a little, although from talking to Elaine and her friends, this sort of "code-switching" is pretty common for African-Americans, especially women.  Folks love you being blunt and no-nonsense on your own time - and you kind of need to be, just to keep up - but when you get in a working environment with white people, you'd better conform and keep them comfortable.

That part's been easy enough for me - "professional talk" is a bit closer to what's natural for me, and eventually I kind of learned to take cues from whoever I was talking to after hours and appreciate that any raised eyebrows are more likely to be good-natured ribbing than actual suspicion.  Everyone deals with this, to an extent, unless they're really lucky, and I've seen it studying for roles or watching how colleagues change in different environments, but this seems to be the most extreme.  And it didn't really prepare me for a couple of situations that came up this past week.

First, just who should I be at an office party?

I mean, sure, I know that I'm going to have to be working with all of these folks again afterward, so I probably shouldn't let my hair down too much, but all the other folks I've talked to who have had real office jobs say you don't want to seem too much on your guard.  That's doubly true when you're the one assigned to organize the party - it would kind of suck to be thought of ad even more the management done after that.

I didn't really think of it much until Thursday - there was lots of regular work to do, and the budget was pretty tiny; whoever hires a bunch of contractors from different agencies put line items in for team-building activities but not time, so into the holiday party it went.  It was almost enough for me to rent a local bar's function room, buy a platter of cookies, get some rum for people to add to eggnog, and a bunch of paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling.  I had to duck out of the office an hour or so early to get there to set it up, and by the time I did, I regretted my Christmas-y outfit a little - the festive red pencil skirt with the matching heels looked nice with the black pantyhose and green blazer, but they weren't great for climbing on a chair to hang things.  I may have nearly broken my neck three times before I was done, only to spoil some nog on the coat.  The green satin top underneath didn't spoil the look, but it left me bare-armed and had a to button that liked to come undone whenever I twisted my torso a bit (fun fact - Elaine's one of those women whose breasts get a bit bigger when she's ovulating, so clothes that normally fit just fine are suddenly kind of tight).  When people started arriving, I still looked more "Elaine" than "Lainey", but it made more sense to play it loose than efficient.

That was going to happen anyway, since there was a bar and Ali had told me to keep his two drink tickets.  I didn't get sloppy, but I did get to the point where the whole situation seemed really funny.  And where I didn't stop to wonder whether or not karaoke was a thing Elaine did.

It's not really a thing I ever did, too be honest - I sing professionally, after all (well, the band wasn't really paying, but I'd done musicals on the stage), and you've got to protect your pipes even if it wouldn't be trying to unwind by doing the same thing you do at work.  That was three months ago, though, and after a couple of drinks, singing was a fun thing I hadn't done in too long.  So when someone shoved me up there after punching in Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas", I only had a fleeing thought about what would happen if Elaine didn't have a good singing voice.

She does, though, good enough that when people started applauding, I thought damn, this could be my thing for the next few months!  I wound up on that little stage four more times that night, and was actually kind of disappointed when people had started to leave and it was time to take everything down.

So that went okay.  But it left me with just a couple of days to try and figure out who I should be with Elaine's family.

I'd begged off Thanksgiving, telling them I had to work the Friday after, but you can't really skip both Thanksgiving and Christmas without making trouble, and unlike when they sent me messages on Facebook there was no way to discreetly have the real Elaine advise me.  And given my difficult relationship with my parents (exploitation, emancipation, estrangement), I don't really know what an adult child going home is supposed to feel like.

Mostly, it's pretty good, at least for Elaine.  Her folks are proud of her, respected that I didn't much want to discuss this summer.  The cover story was that "Elaine" had taken what she thought was a government contact, gone mostly quiet on social media because she was afraid of spilling something, but actually been working for a criminal enterprise which she couldn't talk about.  Exciting cloak-and-dagger stuff if it were real.

Of course, Elaine's sister Whitney knew it was fake, and she couldn't wait to peel me away from "our" parents.  It was kind of weird, not just for the obvious reasons, but because she remembered me, and thought it was hilarious that I was playing her big sister.  I pointed out that I wouldn't be if she hasn't screwed up and left Elaine/Mackenzie at a campground, and she shrugged and said she felt bad about that, but the whole experience had shown her that her old boyfriend was a jerk and was helping her be a better person.  Besides, she said, if that hasn't happened, who knows where I would have ended up?

I think she was excited at the idea of getting close to someone she'd had a crush on as a teenager, and while I've got to admit that's kind of gratifying - it didn't happen nearly as often as it used to even before becoming Elaine - I really wasn't feeling much desire to get chummy with someone who had been so careless with her sister's life and identity, even if it maybe beat the alternative of maybe being stuck in the middle of my band-mates' relationship.  I told her as much, and that her parents should be thankful that I'm a good enough actor to only treat her with the annoyance Elaine normally had for her screw-up sister.

That was mean, I know, but Christmas plus period plus Whitney kind of brought out the worst in me.  I got karmic payback right away, though, as Elaine's parents phones gave of a little buzz because apparently one of my co-workers had uploaded some videos from the holiday party and tagged "Elaine", and of course, not only did her parents not only have alerts set up for their daughters, but the first one that they saw was the last song of the night, when I was singing "Baby It's Cold Outside" with Daryl.  Who, by the way, is a handsome, single African-American man.

Her father paused it after just a second, but mostly so that he could sync his phone with the TV and let everyone watch in high-definition quality.  "I guess you got yourself a new hobby while you were off the grid, huh?"

I felt myself blushing a bit - obviously, I'm used to seeing myself on a TV, but not as Elaine, and not when I hadn't planned on it being seen.  "Not really - it was a party, I'd had a couple of drinks--"

Whitney gave me a pat on the shoulder.  "Don't sell yourself short, Lainey - you're a natural performer!"

I shoved her away, but "Mom" raised her eyebrows.  "I'll say!"

My eyes went wide watching the screen - I was really into it, with lots of hand motions, exaggerated walking to and from Daryl, looking fake-shocked at "what's in this drink?", way more than I remembered.  "Uh, well, it's just this song.  It's kind of rape-y if you don't vamp it up, right,  and make it perfectly clear that the girl is flirting and really wants the guy, even if her family and friends are, like, judgmental and stuff--"

"Well, you're both pretty convincing on that count.  When do we get to meet this boy?"

"Dad, no!  Daryl's a co-worker - even if I wanted to, that'd be a big-time HR thing."

Elaine's mother opined that it looked like it would be worth it, and I admit, I didn't have to do much acting to portray Elaine as kind of mortified.

Fortunately, Daryl had traveled to California to see his folks for the holiday, so I didn't see him until yesterday, when he was a total pro until quitting time, when he sat down in my cube and asked if my folks saw the clip as well.  He didn't really seem embarrassed, but wasn't smirking either.  "Not going to lie, they were almost as impressed as I was."

"Oh, mine too.  Too bad it would be totally inappropriate, huh?"

He looked at me and somehow made his eyes twinkle.  "Would it?  You're not technically my boss, and if I asked you out..."

"I dunno...  That's still..."  That's still going on a date with a guy, which would probably be fun, and thus lead to a second date.  But I couldn't say that.

When I didn't say anything, he smiled a little more.  "You're responsible.  I like that.  You ask my folks, I probably need that.  But since everyone was either at the party or saw the video, something with you and me is probably going to be in their heads anyway.  So - how about I just tell you where some friends and I are going to be hanging out, singing karaoke on New Year's Eve?  You can come, bring your girls, or not.  Whatever you think is right."  He told me, then left.

Not sure what to do.  If I looked at it as playing a role, well, Elaine has told me that even if doing karaoke wasn't exactly in character, showing up at that bar absolutely would be.

-J.T./Elaine

Simon/Joy: Ex Marks the Spot

The guys at the office haven't quite been the same for the last couple of weeks, since just a few moments of not being the fun girl who plays along with your jokes about boob size and doesn't act like making less money for the same work is no big deal is enough to shift the way people treat her.  It also got out that I knew about the whole bet about who could get me in bed first, and given how the climate for that has changed just in the last few months, everybody is treating me like a live hand grenade.  It's kind of sucks, both because I'm not that kind of woman (and even if I were inclined to be, I wouldn't want that reputation following me to another job) and because it's getting me shut out, not just in terms of being sociable with my co-workers but in that they seem to go out of their way to not help me in the office, even in places where there's no competition.  It's dumb to sideline me, because I'm a damn good salesman no matter how I'm shaped, but guys will do dumb things where women are concerned.

One of the things that makes me pretty good at this stuff is that I have a pretty good memory for names, faces, and other details, and whatever changes the Inn made to my brain to make me interested in having sex with guys, it didn't affect that.  So, when I arrived home tonight and saw a guy at the building's from door, seeming to take a step toward the intercom and back off about a dozen times, I didn't do the comedy bit where I didn't recognize someone from the original Joy's life, ignored him, and then had to improvise an excuse later.  I'd seen this guy on Joy's phone, her social media, etc., and knew he must have come looking for her.  So I just went for it, walking up and asking him what he was doing here.

He turned around, flustered but recovering quick.  "Lookin' for ye, obviously!  My God, ye look incredible!"

I could do with some of that.  I walked up with my arms outstretched for a hug, but he instead took my hands in his and gently seeing them down between us so that we were looking each other in the face.  It was excited than it sounded, and gave me a moment to examine this Iain Mackinnon - Joy's boyfriend when she checked into the Inn - up close and personal.

He's cute - not super-tall (I was almost eye-level with him, although I admittedly had four-inch heels on) or super-cut, but solid.  There's a hint of auburn to his brown hair, which also takes the form of a beard that's very well-maintained, a precise 3/4" at every spot.  Nice hazel eyes, sexy Scottish accent, dressed in the tech-guy outfit of flannel-patterned shirt and khakis,  except obviously very nice ones.  He smells kind of nice, too, a subtly sporty cologne.  Maybe a little more millennial-hipster than what I would have called a really impressive man in another life, but I'm starting to think that maybe a guy being a little less obviously alpha isn't so bad.

I take all that in and ask if he wants to come in.  He says yes, and I kind of make sure I swing my butt a little as he's a few steps behind me.  It's been a few weeks for me and both Joy's diaries and what Shayla has said about how she's talked about guys in the past seems to indicate he was a heck of a lover.  I unlock the door, and we're chatting about my messed-up car as he enters and Treena just freezes while emptying the dishwasher.  I smile kind of big - it's almost a reflex when Treena and I have to out on a show for a third party - and say "look what I found downstairs!"

"Wow, this is a surprise!  It's good to see you, Iain!"

(I mentally file away that it's pronounced "ee-un".)

"And ye as well, Treens!  Still puttin' up with this one?"

"I am, and she does not make it easy sometimes.  In fact, if I could just steal her a moment..."

She doesn't wait for a response, dragging me into her bedroom.  "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing!  I saw him downstairs, recognized him from about a million pictures on Facebook, and figured it would be better to say hi than act like we'd never met."

She stared hard at me at me, deciding I wasn't trying to spin it.  "I suppose that makes as much sense as anything.  It's just--  He really loved Joy, okay?  They should have been married by now, and if you try to take advantage of that and hurt him..."

"Jeez, threat understood!  Calm down!"

I turn around and walk back out into the kitchenette, asking if he'd like something to drink.  He points at the espresso machine, saying he's still jet-lagged, so I start that up.

"So...  Just here for a visit, then."

"Aye.  Google's talking about buying out a company the family's invested in, so I came out to talk terms because my Dad's all not doing that well and the tech stuff isnae really his forte.  So I'm in San Francisco, and I figure, it's only a short hop down here, might as well see what Joy's up te."  He did an exaggerated little pause.  "So, what are ye up te?"

"Oh, you know, getting my real estate license, connecting folks with little pieces of California heaven."

"Seeing anyone?"

"Not really, kind of..."  I'm going to say playing the field but Treena shoots me a look, and I try to think of something close to the truth.  Joy may not have kept in touch with Treena before she died with everyone thinking she was Brian Meeks, but she did try to keep things going with Iain as long as she could via text and email.  But while letter-writing used to be visited pretty romantic, it's not nearly enough to sustain something long-distance the days, and she broke it off not long before the end.  "Kind of harder to start again than I thought."

"You managed to find someone, though, right?"  Treena interjected.

"Thought so, but...  Well, she ditched me just before this trip.  Just like ye, she felt I was spending too much time on the business, not enough time with her.  Can't say I blame her."

"That's...  I'm sorry to hear that."  I meant it; he seemed like a nice enough guy, and while I can't say I've ever been so rich that a girl who noticed me because of that success started to get annoyed at the work it took to maintain it, I could relate on a smaller scale.

"Well, it's gotten me thinking about what to do different in the New Year, but in the meantime, it kind of leaves me going to this Christmas party on Saturday stag, and I was wondering..."  He eyed me expectantly.

"Oh, I don't know...  I mean, sure, I'm always up for a good party, but--"  I couldn't think of a real reason aside from Treena murdering me, but that seemed like enough.

"Don't worry, it's mostly a work thing.  Just, y'know, figured I'd be nice to spend time with you rather than spend time talking about who's not there."

"Well, sure, if that's all it is..."

"Great!  I'll email you all the details."  An alarm on his Android watch went off, and he made his apologies.  "I really was just flying down here between meetings, I'm afraid.  But don't worry, when you get to London on Saturday, you'll have my complete attention!"  And then he was out the door.

That last bit, as you might imagine, had me and Treena in a bit of stunned silence before Treena told me I couldn't do this.  But, c'mon, this guy's obviously kind of down (despite his cheery demeanor) and looking for a boost from his ex Joy, and right now, I'm the only Joy there is.  And let's not forget that I've had kind of a rough go of it lately - getting away from it all with what everyone assures me is a pretty good guy isn't bad for me, either.

Now, to make sure Joy's passport hadn't expired...

Simon/Joy: Holiday Cards

Thanksgiving has barely passed and December has barely started, but we're already starting to get holiday cards from everybody Treena or Joy has ever met, from the old lady on the ground floor to Joy's ex-boyfriend in Scotland.  It's kind of interesting how the different groups affect me when looking at them, and it's not necessarily what you'd expect.  I've long accepted that Joy's family are my family for as long as I'm her, for example.  We've got the same genes, and that counts for something.  I can look in the mirror, see bits of Joy's mother there, and keeping in touch with her seems natural.  Similarly, I may not have as much history with Joy's friends as they think I do, but I've talked with them, hung out with them, talked them into doing things.  It makes sense to hear from them.

The others, though, are really weird.  You know, the ones who met Joy in some other way and keep sending her cards even though I can't find their names anywhere in the social media accounts I've inherited and their addresses apparently didn't migrate between phones at some point.  I can call Joy's family and friends my family and friends, but even though they're kind of inconsequential, relationship-wise, it feels kind of weird to call people acquaintances if I have not actually made their acquaintance.  I mean, sure, whatever, you keep it up, guy who went to high school with Joy and thinks dropping five bucks on a card every year might get her to hook up with you at the reunion, your letter is kind of more interesting than the baby pictures, but it's not going to get you into these panties.

I am trying to write one of those letters of my own, because it does seem like the kind of thing that would be in-character for Joy, and a couple of them did mention not hearing from her for the past couple of years.  It's a little easier this year than it would have been before, when I would have had to make up stuff to fill in a seven-or-eight-month gap, but it's still a little harder to fill in than I thought.  I can't include the Inn-related stuff, obviously, and a lot of the exciting stuff this year has involved sex (or not having sex), and I'm not really up to writing two letters, with one of them censored, and trying to figure out who might not think the fun one was completely inappropriate.

The office card was a lot more straightforward - make sure I dress nice the day the photographer comes in, and it's not like I ever show up in sweats.  They didn't put me front-and-center, but I got a prominent place, as a pretty blonde with bare legs sure breaks up a wall of thirty-something year-old guys in suits.  It would be great if it helped me out professionally - I'll certainly be the one they remember if a former client gets the cards and says "huh, maybe I should sell the beach house, and I should go with the realty office who helped me buy it even if the actual person I worked with isn't there any more" - but I know it's mostly a way to humanize the crew that wants a big commission.  It's certainly not going to get my numbers up by the end of the quarter.

Which is too bad, because I could probably use the money to cover some expenses and sock away.  When I went out to the parking garage Monday night, I got a big shock when I saw the car's rear end had been absolutely crushed, enough to bend the axle, and while I figure it has to be the guy with the Hummer, the security camera was apparently busted, which means the insurance company is almost certainly going to be dicks about covering it.  On top of that, the body shop told me I wouldn't be able to get a loaner that night, which meant I was looking at taking the bus or an Uber home.

Fortunately, Teddy had been on a call when I was getting ready to leave, so he made it to the garage just as the tow truck was pulling out.  His eyebrows went up at the damage, but he asked if he could give me a ride.  I said he certainly could with only about half the innuendo I could have, which amused him more than anything.  I turned around to stow my bag in the back seat, and that's when I caught a glimpse of the pay stubs he had dropped there.

Now, I know enough not to read too much into any one paycheck when you're in sales.  Not only does seniority count for something, but what you do week-to-week is a big deal when you're being paid a commission; some weeks I'll do better than him, others he out-earns me.  But the one on top of that pile was the holiday bonus, and it was almost three times mine, and I know he hasn't been in the office that much longer than I have or outperformed me that significantly.

I mentioned it to Treena in passing as part of bitching about what happened to the car, and she immediately seized on it as bullshit.  I was pretty determined to act like it was none of my business, but the next morning made it tough, as the body shop tried to pad the estimate and stuck me in a sub-compact with their name on the side in big letters for a loaner car, which just makes for a great impression with clients.  Waiting for the shop to open and dealing with all that got me to work a little late, and when Stretch made a pretty harmless comment about it I snapped at him, saying that when folks try to charge you twice as much despite your only pulling in half the money, you've got to spend time haggling.

The laughter that came in response was a bit more nervous than usually happens when I make a joke, but I didn't think too much of it, diving into work, making calls and emails, setting up some showings.  I didn't think much of it until I was about to step out for lunch and the boss called me into his office.  I stepped in, took a seat, and asked what was up.

"Joy, are you happy here?"

"Uh....  Yeah, I'm pretty happy here.  The work's good, the pay is good, and so are the co-workers."  I tried to pay it casual, but conversations that start like this are usually dangerous.

"Good, good...  From some of your comments this morning, I was worried that you might be dissatisfied and, perhaps, trying to lay the groundwork to get more than your due."

"Oh, no, just, you know, dealing with car stuff this morning.  Can't live without your car in California, right?"

"You certainly can't.  It's not that we were particularly worried, but you know how it goes - a woman takes a job in a place that has a lot of money going through it, they're often looking to hook onto a man, whether it be a customer or a co-worker, but we'd never had that feeling about you."

"No sir - trust me, if there was anyone looking to make money off getting laid here, it wouldn't be me!"

He pulled forward a bit in his chair, so he was looking at me at just a little bit more of a downward angle, trying to adopt just a teeny bit more of a dominant posture.  "Are you trying to imply something?  Something you can use later?"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.  "What?  No!  I mean, I might have heard something that sounded bad, but I might have misinterpreted it.  I mean, guys in any kind of sales job have to be competitive, right?  And sometimes, out of context, that can sound a lot worse than it actually is."

He smiled, pleased at this response.  "I'm glad you understand.  A lot of women don't."

A lot of days, if have made the funny-to-me comment that I wasn't most women, but instead I just thanked him and went to get a salad from the place down the street.  I was kind of feeling like "most women" at that moment, or at least the group that have been making such a big stink about guys being guys lately.  And I hated that; I wasn't going to be one of them.

That attitude carried me through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, getting home with just enough time to do little more than pass Treena in the doorway, telling her to keep her feminist agenda to herself.  She was kind of in a joking mood, saying I really should have noticed it was my feminist agenda too by now.  She stopped for a second when I said it almost got me fired, but I said not to worry, I'd handled it.  She said that was good, but if I wanted to talk, she wouldn't be out very late.

Oh, and there was another card on the kitchen table, and this one might mean something.

I looked.  Yeah, it did - it was from "Simon Woodford".  Me.  Or at least, Brian Meeks with my body and life.  There were two letters in the card, one the printed-out version everyone got, talking about work and home repair projects that I had always put off that Brian took on, and finding out he had testicular cancer, which he joked about as much as he could.  One was handwritten and obviously just for me, apologizing if I found the other letter inappropriate, but it seemed like humor was the best way to cope on a day-to-day basis.  He got into a lot more detail about the surgery and radiation, and how the doctors were really encouraged.  He said he was mostly worried about my dad, who seemed to take the diagnosis kind of hard and sometimes needed a reminder to take care of himself too.

And then there was the picture, me but not really me - he'd apparently decided to shave his head when some of his hair started falling out, on top of a few more lines on his face but also a weird smile that I knew was phony from all the apologies and guilt that came out of his mouth when talking to me.

Really, a bummer of a Christmas card, but kind of a perfect cap on 24 hours of not feeling like I'm in control of my life the way I usually do.

-Simon/Joy

Tyler/Judith: Merry Christmas, everyone

The week after our dinner with Samantha was "Adrian's" office Christmas party. I never would have thought of Kitty as an office drone but apparently he's taken to it, working in H.R., filling out forms and helping people adhere to policies. I didn't know that much about it beyond that. I've kind of kept it deliberately separate, and I wasn't much looking forward to mingling with his co-workers, since as I said earlier, I don't exactly love being in situations where I don't get to be myself.

But I had promised I would be the Good Wife that night, even if I was still struggling with how to respond to his declaration of love. He knew I needed time to process everything, although I could tell he was eager for me to come down on one side or the other.

I wanted to put in a good effort for that night, so I went out that day and got my nails and hair done (I can look presentable on my own but it takes more capable hands than mine to turn this frizzy mass into something more than "presentable" - to say nothing of the time and effort.) All that was left was the dress - a long dark red sleevless gown that dipped low in the front. I haven't worn anything that refined since my pageant misadventure as Lauren, and this was a whole different matter. I was a little hesitant to put it on and found myself just sitting at the vanity staring at my face in the mirror... trying to find my inner Judith, I guess.

I looked at the Crow's Feet around her eyes, the laugh lines... the one or two chin hairs I needed to pluck. I wondered what the original owner of this body thought about all that. Did she feel old before her time? Or was it nothing to her? She's only 36 for God's sake. But working and raising a kid will put years on you. I wondered about the little soft roll of flab that I inherited just at the hips, the dimples and freckles that I've noticed on my ass.

She's still got some good years left, I can tell... hopefully she wants them.

And what, exactly, does Adrian see when he looks at it? Either of them.

I eventually did put on the dress and attempted to get comfortable in it... not easy when you're crammed into spanx underneath. I also forgot who and where I was for a minute and dropped a bite or two of lasagna into my cleavage during dinner. Embarrassing. I tell you, they're not even that big but the amount of times these things get in the way...

Kitty was impressed. He jaw actually dropped. "You were already beautiful... I've never seen you look so stunning, though." Even though it's not really my body, I did my best to accept the compliment, and I have to admit it felt good to get that reaction.

I was a bit distracted all night, but I was impressed watching Kitty in action. I forgot that around other people he's very warm and personable, easy to make friends. He knew just about everything about all her co-workers and had a ton of inside jokes with them. He was like a different person around them. Charming - I can see "manhood" agreeing with him. Something about being in this position brings out the best in him, and he was laughing all night, which is rare. We even danced. Together. It just about killed my feet in those heels, but we danced quite a bit.

When we got home, I was feeling good so we cuddled up in bed. "Don't get the wrong idea," I told him. "I just really need someone to hold onto right now."

He laughed slightly, "I feel like that sums up our whole relationship." It made me feel warm to joke around with him that way. I wanted to tell him he was being a good sport about my indecision... and that was helping me come in for a landing on it.

--

We had a lot of talks about how exactly to approach "Christmas," specifically the gift-giving aspect. We don't exactly plan on bringing a lot with us when we leave these bodies. After all, my aim is to become a man again in the long run, so buying clothes for Judith's body, or make-up or jewelry, seemed like a pointless gesture.

"It's not pointless if it makes you happy even for a minute," he said to me. "That's what I really want for Christmas, to make you happy. To see your smile."

"I don't have a smile," I said flatly, aware that my lips were curling even as I said it. "This face only goes in one direction. It's a serious face."

"Not true!" He stepped closer to me - we were in the kitchen at this time. "I've seen you laugh. I've seen you giggle. I've seen you get lost in daydreams, fondly remembering old times..."

"I don't have a lot of fond old times... and I don't giggle."

"Every now and again. It's like.. hehe. I can even tell you get really embarrassed when you do it, too."

"That's not a giggle... it's a titter."

"Don't call it that... that has 'tit' in it and I don't like that word."

I chose to ignore the conversational pivot - was he trying to get me to discuss my anatomy? - and went back to gifts. "I'm not really a gift person anyway. Let's just... I dunno, go on vacation or something."

"I don't think I can get away from work. Besides, we're kind of saving up the vacation days, remember?"

"Pfft, how could I forget... okay, well, you can think of something. Just don't get me a vacuum cleaner or cookware."

"What kind of husband do you think I am? Need I remind you that I've been a wife before!"

"Yeah, you never shut up about it," I smirked - and tittered.

The real problem we were facing was with the Kid. Like Halloween, we wanted to make sure it was a real special year for him. We did splurge a bit on clothes and accessories... I figure if he's privately interested in dressing the part as Olivia, then it might be nice for him to have some clothes that never belonged to the real one.

He first asked for a puppy. I reckon it's something he has asked his parents for year after year and they've always said no. I don't wanna deny the kid anything but we ain't exactly set up for a dog here... in the short term we could take care of it, but are we gonna bring it with us to our next lives? It's too complicated.

His other wish was still a tall order but a bit more do-able. He wanted to see his parents.

You might recall, Dylan's parents, Neil and Susan, wound up as little boys much younger even than Olivia, the children of the O'Rileys, Christine and Martin, who live near Boston. We are in contact with them for regular life updates and asking how Dylan's parents are faring. Turns out they're quiet, well-behaved kids - I guess stuffing an adult lifespan into a 2-and 3-year-old body will do that. There are flashes of clarity to where it's obvious they remember their lives, but either they don't have access to their entire memory or they aren't willing to display it all the time. They're both too young for school and answer to their given names - leading to a few "Boy Named Sue" jokes.

They ask about Dylan often, but don't seem to recognize that the girl in the picture I sent is their boy.

It honestly seems a trifle weirder than what we have to deal with. And we worried that Dylan would be too spooked by seeing what became of his parents. We didn't wanna traumatize him none, but we didn't wanna deny his only other specific Christmas wish.

We had them up for Christmas Eve dinner. We brought Dylan face to face with his parents and... he just wrapped his arms around them. "You guys are okay! It's all gonna be okay! we're gonna get fixed soon, I promise!"

I'm not entirely sure they knew what was going on, but... they seemed happy.

Abbie and Kendra hadn't come alone. They brought with them the original O'Rileys, at least Christine and Martin, who had become a gay couple named Robert and Steven. Handsome guys. My first question was to ask about their kids. It was clearly not a fun story, but it could have been worse: "They became my parents," Martin explained, "An older retired couple. It could have been worse... they get live-in care and we see them every day, and obviously we are all looking forward to putting things right. They understand what's happened to a degree but it took them a long time to come to grips with being bigger and... older."

An uncomfortable, solemn silence followed until Christine noted, "Our oldest never stops asking when he's going to get his 'pee-pee' back." I grinned wryly and said me too.

Kendra explained that the O'Rileys were so invested in getting their lives back that the four had formed a makeshift family - which we were part of by extension. That was very nice to hear. I thought of the rest of my "family" and supposed it included Meg and Carrie and Lauren and Tasha... people I haven't heard from in too long and moss more than the rest of my "real" family.

I admit I observed our guests with interest trying to suss out the relationships, maybe out of curiosity and maybe because I wanted to find some clue for how I wanted to be with Kit. Abbie and Kendra didn't give off more than a platonic partnership that I could see, but by the end of the night Martin and Christine were pretty openly fawning over each other. Martin seemed to acknowledge my interest, saying "I never thought I would go this way, but what can I say? Love is love, and I love this person."

It was honestly very sweet and encouraged me to keep my mind open.

--

We got Dylan some video games, some Olivia-clothes and a whole bunch of junk food. I got Kitty a tablet, reasoning it was something he could bring from life to life, and some aftershave. He got me some make-up and a Spa Day, pointing out that it was all stuff I could use up before we go back to Maine... but also some clothes and matching set of earrings and necklace, "because I wanted to give them." Outwardly I was thankful, inside I was annoyed he had broken our unofficial pact. I wanted to be touched by the gesture and appreciative though.

Christmas day provided more in-character stress. We did had to see Judith's family again, which meant cooking while Judith's sister Kathy batches about her husband's lack of upward mobility at work. Dylan, who was my little helper at Thanksgiving, was off playing with his cousins. Judith's other sister Arlene showed up a few hours late with her new boyfriend - acquired since Thanksgiving - and I'm pretty sure at one point they went off to have sex in the master bedroom, on top of everyone's coats. Well at least someone got laid in that bed.

Kitty was circulating, supporting me for most of the day, but he disappeared after dinner for a while. When everyone had left I found him moping in the spare bedroom I chewed him out for abandoning me with the Medeiroses and reminded him the next day we were sue to see the WAlkers and he'd better behave.

He said he was sorry, he was just overwhelmed... he realized we were all starting to feel like a real family and it made him homesick, and made him sad about having to uproot again in spring. I said I understood, and he said how could I, I'm a born wanderer. I said that wasn't fair, and we got to fighting about.. well, everything. Our plans for the future, mostly, but also recent treatment of each other and fighting about fighting.

We ended up going to bed separately, which sucked for the following reason... I had one more gift to give Kitty.

I had bought myself some lingerie that week. All day I had been wearing a lace thong and corset under my clothes, waiting for us to be alone so I could show off and, well... seduce him. Basically embrace my feelings or at least take a chance on them.

But shit, that blow up really set us back, left me feeling unenthusiastic about it, like a fool wearing expensive, uncomfortable underwear.

We were cold to each other the next day at the Walkers family Christmas, but we both came around and said we were sorry by the end. Inch by inch I'm learning how to make this work and not just run away.

The lingerie would have to wait though.

More in the new year
-Ty/Jude