Jordan: Friday night with Gary and Deirdre

Annette has been spending the past couple of months trying to reconcile the way she has chosen to live Ravi's life with having to hand it back over to him, and that's sort of sucked for her. I, meanwhile, have spent last week worrying about being judged, and I've probably done way worse than using a closet case's dick to fuck a few guys (no, I don't think Ravi and I will stay roommates after this, so why not tell it like it is?).  I just ignored Deirdre's life entirely, so when she called up at the end of June, I didn't know what to expect.

On average, I probably keep in contact with the folks before and after me on the Inn's chain-of-change as much as anyone, but it's a distorted average - while Annette has regular emails and text exchanges with both Ravi and the person living her life, I live with Benny (sometimes even sharing a room when he and Annette bunking together would look weird) and seldom talk to Deirdre. At first it was defiance - I probably blamed her for me being stuck as a girl - and then it was just having nothing to talk about. I didn't need to know anything about her life, and we didn't really share any common interests. so why try and force some sort of friendship? She would ask me how things were going every once in a while, but that was it.  Even then, I mostly ignored her.

A few weeks ago, though, they had decided that they would take a trip to New York, and wanted to meet up. My first instinct was to say hell, no, but I made the mistake of telling Annette, and she said we had to (she can make "you" into "we" without much trouble at all).  I said I didn't see the point, and she replied that there needn't be one - it can just be a thing you do. She says I'm lucky to have been able to interact with Benny as he tried to live my life, as most of the other "guests" just get a letter and only see the results of what happened after-the-fact, so I should give Deirdre this one evening.

So, plans were made.  Dinner with Benny & Annette, a walk along the High Line, meeting up with Kareena for ice cream later.  Annette gears up for a "gay best friend" day, but I tell her, no, these people know who I really am and I'm not looking to impress them with how girly I can be or anything.  Just shorts, a t-shirt, and a ponytail for me, because New York can get fucking hot.

We met at around six o'clock, and it must have looked kind of odd to anybody who hadn't been to the Inn - the three of us with our apparent various ethnicities get approached by this couple in their late forties, sort of simultaneously aged a bit prematurely and kind of robust-looking because they have spent their lives working for a living.  They still register as being our age if you've been to the Inn and know that everything is not necessarily as it seems; you don't see that many people pushing fifty simultaneously texting and talking with each other, or stopping to look at certain posters on the walls with interest rather than surprised curiosity. Then again, it is New York, and we do get all kinds.

It takes a while for them to spot me, as I'm easily the shortest and thus most difficult to find in a crowd. They do, though, hustling over and introducing, themselves. The real Deirdre starts to embrace me, but backs off. "A little too weird for me," she says, "and I kind of get the impression you aren't really a hugger." She's not wrong, so we settle for a somewhat awkward handshake.

Annette and Benny introduce themselves, and then we're seated.  There's a sort of prolonged staring-not-staring thing going on with me, Deirdre, and Gary, and I crack first.  "Look, I'm not going to apologize for trying to live my life instead of yours.  I had stuff that needed to be done that Benny here wasn't going to handle and playing the part of Ravi's girlfriend was just not happening.  If that's what you're here for..."

Deirdre bit the side of her lip, something that might have been cuter coming from me, the way appearances were arranged. "It would have been kind of nice, but I kind of get it. It kind of never occurred to us, but maybe if we were going to be separated or something... Anyway, I think Gary is just looking for a peek at your boobs without me knowing."

"I'm not looking at her boobs!"

"Nah, it's okay. They're really my boobs, after all-"

"Actually, they're my tits and only look like yours right now." We had a laugh, but I soon pointed out that I was kind of serious. "It's like everyone who goes to the Inn just automatically thinks it makes sense to abandon their lives to other people, or vice versa, even talking like their body isn't their own any more. It's just, I don't know..."

Annette said something about this experience making a feminist out of me. I snorted.

Deirdre seemed to think it over, though she changed the mood by elbowing Gary and pointing to Benny. "She's got a point, but then again, if I get to stay with him..."

"So long as you're cool with him being me!"

We all laughed, but it had an edge to it.  We've all, to some extent or other, spent a lot of time thinking about lives as pieces to be arranged and reassembled, and assessing the potential combination of that body and that mind is a path that can get you into trouble. Like, if I could get some non-bitch into Tina Chen's life..?

"Well," I said, "you might want to do it for a while, stage a breakup and reconciliation."

"Ugh." Gary cradled his head in his hands. "I set the feeling I'm already going to have to dump Kristina again, and that takes a fair amount of time and effort."

Deirdre sighed, but didn't look as pained by it as Gary. "I'm telling him that we should just go. Find a new place in a new city where I can finish school and he can start studying for the bar again. If there is one thing we've learned from this, it's that we work no matter what our surroundings are."

"And that not being near our families can be for the best."

I fidgeted a bit hearing that. I didn't stay in New York because I was afraid of doing something outside my comfort zone, but I do wonder about what it would have been like to try something a little different. What if I'd gone to Baltimore but broke up with Ravi/Gary for the duration? Sitting at that table, looking at how these two had learned something, Benny had done things to make my life better, and Annette seemed to have found some new knowledge about Ravi and herself, I got the feeling that I had just hidden, and that doing so wasn't much different than how I had lived my own life.

Then Kareena arrived and everybody started doing it.

Annette is naturally the one who talks about Kareena the most, but I found it interesting (at the time) that we all tried to keep the weird Inn stuff away from her. I mean, fuck, I don't ever recall feeling angry about her bailing on the trip and getting me stuck in this situation, and Annette will tell you that a lot of stuff pisses me off. It's an indication of just how much people like her immediately, and even though we know that she wouldn't believe us if we told her the truth, the whole thing would upset her.

It made for the occasional weird moment, though, like when we introduced our guests as the people whose luggage we found left in our room at the Inn and she laughed, saying that she really wished she could have gone on that trip if it was cool enough for "Jordan" to find a girlfriend and make big changes in his life or even to want to hang out with folks that "he" and Ravi had barely met. That drew a big, semi-fake laugh all around.

It also sort of killed the blog-worthy conversation until the end of the night (especially since "blog-worthy" becomes a much higher target a month later; this thing has been sitting in "Drafts" since then). The rest of the night was pleasant but mostly uneventful, at least until I went to the ladies' room and got backed into a corner by Deirdre.

She stared at me hard for what seemed like along time but was probably only about twenty seconds before hissing "you selfish bitch." Then her shoulders slumped, and she continued. "There, that's out. I've wanted to say that for almost a year."

I untensed a bit too; I didn't realize that I was preparing for a woman who kind of had fucking reason to do so to hit me until the moment had passed. "I--I'm sorry." It was a little weird. "It was just - my job, the thought of being Ravi's girlfriend..."

"No, I get it now - Gary and I didn't have it easy, but we were kind of the best-case scenario, relationship-wise - still with each other, no sex-change stuff; maybe I would have done the same thing in your situation.

"But I don't forgive you. I want you to know that, even if we're polite, even if we understand, even if Gary does. You made our lives harder when almost everyone else we connected with during this whole thing has at least tried to help, and I want you to think about that."

I had an impulse to tell her to fuck herself, but didn't. Not sure why. Anyway, that's what's been hard to actually set down in the last month for me.

I'll let Annette tell the rest.

-"Jordo"

Annette/Ravi: Feeling Invisible

Before getting into my week, can I just say that Jordan's version of last Sunday's activity was a bit exaggerated? Not to the point where he's lying or anything, but I kind of suspect that whatever issues he has with this Tina girl going back to high school are coloring his recollection. I also think that he decided that if he was going to wind up in some sort of girls-competing-over-a-man thing, it was going to be so big that he couldn't help but be drawn into it.

Still, I have been encouraging him to enjoy the whole "being a girl" thing while he can. I've missed it, for sure, especially since being a guy is so much the default in our world that I seldom feel like I'm doing anything special.  Fun clothes/hair/perfumes are fun, after all, and it seems easier to fall into a really reserved rut as a man.   On the other hand,  Lane mentioned that most of the bloggers on this site are guys-turned-girls, but that's kind of natural - one thing I've found is that guys tend to have the life that everyone else is supposed to, and good storytelling is about overcoming challenges.  I suppose there were a few days at Ravi's job when I could have written ''today at work, I had a problem with a co-worker, and when I took it to a manager, he listened to me like I knew what I was talking about and didn't stare at my chest at all!" or ''I was walking down the street and at no point did some skeevy guy/ girl get close enough that I felt the need to cross the street."  But that would be kind of boring.

Some girls might write about that; I've been fortunate enough in my life that I didn't find it that odd; I grew up in a nice place and mostly around good people.  So it's not shocking when people treat me-as-Ravi with some sort of respect. It's just realizing later that it happens ALL THE TIME!  Maybe someday a lady who really gets angry upon realizing this will wind up staying at the Inn and contributing to the blog; I just didn't have that sort of "well, duh" thing in me when I realized it.

Similarly, I did not rush to the laptop upon realizing I could wear light-colored pants without checking the calendar.  You just don't write about not doing something.

That's not the sort of invisibility I was planning to write about; I meant being gay.

Not every gay person is invisible, but I feel like I am as Ravi. Jordan says that I don't have "the voice", and I'll take his word for it. The women I deal with don't seem to have any sixth sense that I'm out of play, and my ability to recognize other gay men and be recognized in return just doesn't seem to be there. Maybe it takes a while (and experience) to develop and my personality is straight-girl enough that I don't give the right signals.  I don't know.  I just know that about 90% of the phone numbers I've been offered at work are those of Indian women (or their daughters), and none have been from guys.

In some ways it's like the feeling of being changed by the Inn all over again - folks look at you and they can't see that there's this big, foundational part of who you are that they just assume fits into some sort of standard set of assumptions, when it really doesn't.  On the other hand, you can just say "I'm gay" and people will often at least accept it. I'm not sure where the eventually feeling like it's normal comes in.

Not that you can assume that. Ravi is starting to really be a pain in the ass, because he thinks all the sex he's having with Gary's ex-girlfriend (or would that technically be an ex-ex-girlfriend, now?) proves he was never gay, and I'm just looking at guys now because I'm still a girl inside. I kind of want that to be true, but I really don't think it works that way - who you're attracted to seems to mostly be biology, although personality gives big bumps in one direction or another.

Not that he's consistent about it. If I point out that Jordan notices guys, even if he chooses not to act on it because he doesn't want being penetrated in his head when he turns back (or because he's Jordan and generally anti-social), that doesn't mean these things apply to Ravi. And if I'm attracted to guys because of really being a girl, why do I get a lot more out of giving than receiving, so to speak? Obviously, that's his inherent masculinity doing what it can to overpower my feminine presence in his body.

It's all confused bullshit, and I feel dumb for respecting it, like I should explain everything to Kareena and then sleep with every moderately attractive man in Manhattan so that he's forced to deal with things when his back here in a month.  I know "outing" is mostly frowned upon - I've read a bit on the subject, and an awful number of people commit suicide when it happens to them, making me wake up in cold sweats about even having posted about it here - but is it right to just let Kareena go on like this thing with Ravi will ever amount to anything happy and fulfilling?

I am treating her kind of terribly right now, after all, canceling things and then heading down to a bar, trying a new micro-brew, and seeing if I can make things spark with a guy. There's this one I've met up with three times in the last week (including the initial acquaintance), and I like him - he seems to know all the local bands, makes great jokes, has been to India and knows a lot more about "my" culture than I do. I'm sort of keeping it friendly for now, because he doesn't deserve delusions of long-term commitment any more than Kareena does, though I kind of also think that maybe if I stretch things out, and present a great guy to Ravi on a silver platter, maybe he'll accept reality and try to make things work.

It's not fair to anyone. I know that. But, damn it, I'm lonely and even though I know that the most practical thing is to just keep a lid on everything until we go back to the Inn, it feels wrong! Everybody has been telling me all my life not to keep what I feel bottled up or denied, and even if it's only temporary, I feel like spending time with this guy, including time in bed, and not having an excuse not to (that anybody would believe) really sacks.

-Annette

Annette/Ravi: The hell with not writing about it

So, the last time you heard from me was New Year's Eve, and then Jordan asking if anybody knew where I was, then nothing. I've had stuff I wanted to put on the blog, but I was trying to be respectful. I can't say I've got any special reason to talk about it now, but two or three lies stacked up is heavy, and I'm sick of them.

So, anyway, New Year's Eve. Kareena's invited to a party that some of her fellow med school students are having, I'm her plus-one, and it's all going great. Class has been out of session for a few days, so she's actually, you know, around for more than a few hours at a time and even dropping not-so-subtle hints that her roommates are both home for the holidays, so we won't both have a crowded house to deal with. I don't think I've ever seen her frisky in that way, but it's really cute, and I'm really looking forward to the new year.

It's a pretty fun party, although I don't really like parties as much as going out to bars now. It's weird, because although I wasn't a real party girl before, I wasn't shy or anything. Now, though, I always feel like folks will discover I'm seven years younger than I look and really a white girl.  No, that's not right - it's not being found out that scared me, but being found lame. Everybody at parties Ravi would get invited to is his age and has way more life experience than me, and what I do have isn't really usable in conversation.

This one's fun, though I probably am overdoing it with the beer. I like it way more than Kareena finds proper (same with Ravi, for that matter - he doesn't really want a reputation as a drinker when he gets back), and the guys throwing the party have some quality stuff, both in terms of taste and alcohol content. I'm heading off to the kitchen to get another when I try to get through the door at the same time as someone else. We joke about each wanting the last bottle of some brew or other, our eyes lock, and we kiss. It's something I've been missing so it lasts a fair bit longer than a second, and then I spot Kareena out of the corner of my eye, and I run.

To a bar, naturally, because I don't want to talk to Jordan and/or Benny yet, and I don't want to stew. That's when I start drinking enough to forget, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in this guy's bed, both of us very naked, and the sheets sticky.

He's crazy hot - African-American, darker than me, not bulky but really chiseled. He knew whereto find me after Iran off because he'd seen me there before, so we were able to get drunk enough to make a crazy decision together. I said I wished I remembered, he said we could go again, I mentioned my girlfriend, and he gave me one hell of a raised eyebrow. I stuttered, quickly pulled on my pants before he could see that I was starting to get hard again at the suggestion, and ran once more.

I spent most of New Year's Day just wandering the city, never even thinking that Benny, Kareem, and even Jordan might be worried. It was like everything had suddenly come into focus; I would see good-looking guys, and, damn! The lack of urgency to be more than friends with Kareena suddenly made sense.  I whipped out my phone and sent Ravi a text asking why he had left the part about him being gay out of his letter.

THAT got a response, let me tell you!

Ravi vigorously denied it, citing all the sex he was having with Gary's ex-girlfriend, that Jordan didn't seem to be interested in guys, and that I was still just a horny teenage girl inside, and that came out when I was drunk. I said that I really didn't think it worked that way, and would be happy to track this guy down now that I was merely hung over to prove it. Dude did not like that idea, and told me I had better not even think of cheating on Kareena again.

Yeah, in the same exchange as he bragged about banging another girl. I don't know whether that's just him being all-in on living Gary's life or being born a guy.

Still, I did what he asked.  He might have been right, after all, and even if he wasn't, coming out of the closet isn't the sort of thing that you do for someone.  ''Thou shalt not screw up thy identity's life" is kind of an unofficial commandment for Inn guests, and I have tried to do right by Ravi.  So I did what he asked. I kept my mouth shut, my dick in mypants, and when I finally got home that day, I told some story about a dare and my phone being set on silent. Kareena was more upset than either I or Jordan had ever seen her, but nobody became suspicious.

So began the most miserable three months of my life.

I had been lying as a general rule before, I guess, but how I was also lying to the people like Benny and Jordan that I had no reason to be less than honest with. I was worried about my every movement - did I just stare at that guy's butt, and could he tell? Did I walk swishy? Every day that went by, I became more certain that I, as Ravi, was gay, and as a result ever more sure that it was obvious to everyone. It is no way to live.

Being with Kareena was just the worst, because I still thought she was awesome and there wasn't a single way I could behave that wasn't totally unfair to her.  I wanted to tell her but dreaded losing her in my life.  I thought about breaking things off for vague reasons but was scared about what this would mean to her family and Ravi's. For Valentine's Day, I got Jordan and Benny to give me the apartment for the night and then puked as I was hanging decorations. We had a nice dinner and then I took her home.

It was April 7th that I came home from a movie and then just sat in the bathroom crying for a half hour. Jordan, sensitive guy that he is, eventually realized I hadn't looked the door and demanded to know what was going on and if it could wait because he was PMSing and really needed to piss.

So I told him.

He started laughing, so I almost hit him before remembering who was the tiny girl in this situation. He said he was sorry, but did I realize how many times he had wanted to descibe me as "his gay friend" when we were out shopping for some girl thing and I was giving him advice? Not funny, I said, but after a second it was hilarious and I started laughing too.

That didn't actually solve any problems, obviously, although the email I got from Ravi the next day was rather muted in scolding me for telling Jordan; he must have really ripped Ravi a new one. Then, a few days later, he knocked on my door wearing the dress he bought for Christmas, albeit wih sneakers rather than heels, and told me we were going out.

I said no. He ignored me and started digging through Ravi's clothes.  He came up with something hideous. but somehow eventually got me to find something better and dragged me out to the bar I went to after escaping the New Year's Eve party. The guy wasn't there, but he said that it was Friday night, he had a list of bars that catered to the gay and craft-beer crowds on his phone, so we would find him.

By the third bar, he was knocked out and kind of drooling on the-counter; that little body he has as Deirdre is pretty lightweight. But his plan was pretty spot-on, as a familiar face saw me and helped load "Dierdre"into a taxi. We took the next one ourselves, because I wanted to make sure I remembered all of it this time.

I won't give him a name, because it didn't really work out - after about a month he said he couldn't be with me if I was just going to keep stringing Kareena along and wouldn't even tell Benny or anyone but Jordan.  He made a choice not to deal with closet crap, and I wasn't a good enough lay for him to break it.  And, honestly, I respect that; I wouldn't date someone like that either.  But I don't know what I would have done without him, either. There was a tension to being Ravi that I didn't recognize, and I kind of suspect it was the same for the original; a lot of folks just won't face it. I hope, when he gets his life back, he takes a long look at the way he's living and tries to just go with what his body wants. I'm not the first person on this blog to say so, but it really does make things better, if not easier.

-Annette

Gary (Ravi); "Two Strikes Against"

I've only been here about a week but I can sort of understand why the original Gary was perhaps not all that driven to pass the bar and join the other family business - his father's law firm.  Working at this place is some long hours - Isaac and Isaiah may be there before me to make the bagels every morning, and they're pretty spry for octogenarians, but they do run down fairly early in the afternoon, even if they do schedule themselves for the whole day.  They lean on me - Gary - a little more than they like to admit to themselves, I think; even though they've got a number of capable people working for them, this is still a family business that they started with Gary's late grandfather, and as the only member of the family who works here, I'm the one they prefer to trust when they can't oversee things personally, which often means closing and receiving deliveries.

It's not a bad gig, though.  I compared it to the electronics-store customer service job I had back in New York when I first started examining the life I had inherited, but there are some pretty important differences.  You don't really have regulars doing tech support, for instance, and the guys who come in every Tuesday for new records and movies (who grow fewer and fewer) don't exactly chat much; they just take what they want from the front shelf and go straight to the check-out.  Here, though, I've seen a few people multiple times even though I've only been here a week and the place is closed Saturdays, and unlike the guy with the computer that won't start, they like talking.  Folks come here expecting to leave happy and wanting to come back, and that's a huge deal.

And while I didn't know any of them a week and a half ago, it's not like they expect any sort of depth to these running conversations.  When people do find it strange that you don't remember their names, "I was away for a while" usually does it, and if that doesn't work, "my fiancee dumped me so I have a lot on my mind" does the trick.

Most of the time.

Last night, just as I was getting ready to close, a girl comes in.  From the ground up, she's wearing three-inch heels, a tight miniskirt, a top that shows equal amounts of belly and cleavage, and plenty of jewelry and makeup.  Objectively, it's kind of tacky, but she's got what it takes to make it work.  I'm just paying her the normal sexy-girl-in-the-shop attention when she saunters up to the counter and asks why I haven't called, what with the ginger bitch being gone a couple weeks.

Maybe don't stammer and grimace quite the way that the original Gary would, but I do the same sort of thing.  "Kristina."

Kristina, you may guess, is the psycho ex that I was told about, and she sort of gives off that vibe.  From what I can tell, she and Gary dated in high school, broke up when he went to college, reconnected for a summer and then she wouldn't let go, either thinking this was destiny or realizing that her best chance at landing a lawyer or the like, and that this future lawyer was working in a deli didn't much phase her.  She apparently scared a few girlfriends off, at least until Deirdre outlasted her.

Not that she really announced herself as nuts beyond disparaging Deirdre.  She certainly seemed reasonable enough, although maybe she was giving me a skewed recounting of their high school days.  It was kind of fun and instructive, though; she mentioned some places that I probably should check out to learn more about Gary's life.

She hung around to close, which was kind of surprising; she didn't really seem to be overstaying.  I passed on getting a drink with her, and she didn't get nuts or anything.  I'll obviously be passing - between original-Gary saying that getting involved with her would be out of character and me already having someone, it would cause everybody trouble.

I've got to admit, though - the idea that Jordan could have wound up looking like THAT had things broken a little differently is making my head spin.

/Gary

Gary (Ravi); "Jordan has no idea how many lives she's screwing up!"

I can sort of understand where Jordan's coming from, doing what he's doing, but it's incredibly selfish.  Deirdre's parents stopped by work last night, in tears, wanting to know where their daughter was, and I couldn't very well tell them "a little farmhouse in Quebec", could I?  Well, I suppose I could, but then they might try and go see her, and me directing them toward a late-middle-aged couple is not going to do them any good.

And it probably won't do me any good, either.  I told them the only thing I could think of on short notice - that she and I had a fight at the end of the vacation and she worked off without telling me where she was going - and they both have me this look I really didn't like.

The original Gary and Deirdre aren't happy either.  I sent them an email with a heads-up Monday night, and while their first reaction was along the lines of it not really mattering - that no matter what sort of damage we do to their lives, they'll eventually come back and make things right.  At least, that's the first email; later comes one from Deirdre/Lise about how Gary's/Guillaume's old girlfriend was a complete psycho that it took three years to be completely rid of, so i had better not go restarting that clock!  I assured them that I was already engaged, even if they think a year is a long time.

At the very least, the original Deirdre is going to need a new job she gets back; when I showed up for work alone on Sunday, "Uncle Isaac" and "Uncle Isaiah" made a big show of saying she was fired, she wasn't that good a waitress anyway, but that at the same time I should have said that I was trying to convince her to stay (they constructed this whole narrative of what has happened between their nephew and his fiancee out of very few words on my part).  They say this, at least, but you can tell they're hurt.  I like them; they're like a lot of the old Jewish guys I would see back in New York and assume that they were sort of leaning into the stereotype, and maybe they are - they play it up even more when a gentile comes into the deli, and I kind of wonder if they've internalized it after all this time.

Or maybe, being thrown into this life, I'm just hypersensitive to everything about it.  I just know things would be running a lot smoother for everybody if there were a Deirdre here.

/Gary

Jordan - What is wrong with all of you?

I mean, what the fuck? I turn into a tiny white girl - which is fucked up enough on its own - and Ravi decides to fucking kidnap me because he's afraid we'll lose jobs in some family deli that is not actually owned by his actual family?

Oh, he didn't see it that way, saying he didn't know what else to do after I fainted, and not to worry because he wasn't the one who dressed me (what the fuck?). The actual wedding wasn't planned until next year (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?), so we wouldn't have to fake too much in public. He told me that there should be a letter in my luggage for me to read, and then chivalrously helped me get it down from the rack because I was so tiny now.

There was, along with a wallet and a phone, but I only sort of pretended to read it. I'd woken up at some point between Exeter and Haverhill, and I got right off the train at that station. Ravi ran to the door and told me I couldn't just do that, but I gave him the finger and the conductor gave him this stern look asking if "we" had a problem. I said no and walked over to the other side of the platform not even knowing that it was only ten minutes until the next train north. I guess Ravi took his seat without much complaint, and I headed back to Maine.

Not that there was a lot of help to be had - in the three hours since Ravi had loaded me on a train, everyone who knew everything seemed to have gotten on a train or taken a cab to the Portland airport to start their new lives or get back to their old ones, and the few people that were left were just crying about not knowing how to be these people or be a man or a woman or black or whatever. But they seemed to be asking the wrong question, really.

Ravi had left the door locked, and while I might have been able to knock it down a day earlier, that wasn't happening, so I went to the other hotel where we checked in and told the guy at the desk that I was locked out of my room. There was as much confusion as you might imagine - I have no idea how they keep records for who checks in and who checks out, and when he finally allowed that a Jordan Chang might still be checked in, he looked at me weird, but I guess that "Jordan" being a girl's name too is the one bit of luck I've had with that place. Anyway, I was able to get my suitcase, rip up the letter Ravi had written for the next person in the room, and write another one. Then I grabbed my stuff, checked out for real, and waited for the 3:05pm train. I had to buy that ticket with Deirdre's card, because they do check IDs on the train, and that sucker was running low enough that a plane ticket wasn't the best idea. But I eventually got to Boston, took the orange line to Back Bay, and from there got into Penn Station at just past 11pm.

By the time I got back to my apartment and lugged the luggage up all these stupid stairs with this scrawny body, it was midnight, and I was ready to drop. Obviously, I hoped to wake up this morning and find out that yesterday was all some strange nightmare, but that's equally obviously not the case. But that doesn't mean I have to stop being Jordan Chang or start being Deirdre O'Connell - I do a shit-ton online, to the extent where most of my work is done via IM rather than voice calls, and I am not going to be a waitress when there's other, much better-paying work that I've already agreed to do. I may look completely different, and I may have to buy a whole lot of new clothes today because I didn't take Deirdre's bag with me when I got off the train, but I'm still myself, no matter how Ravi or anyone else wants to play it!

-Jordo

Gary (Ravi); "Heading to a New Home"

Long time readers of this blog have probably been waiting for this post a while, expecting something ironic because they probably think it's fictional, but either, way, it's inevitable: I woke up this morning not myself.

It was early, like two-thirty, when people were banging on doors and yelling. It didn't wake Jordan - once he was out in his old body, there was no stirring him, and that doesn't seem to have changed - but I can be a pretty light sleeper. Waking up in the dark, nothing seemed to have changed, but when I got up an answered the door, I thought there was a weird trick of the light going on for how light my skin was. The lady who was at the door asked if it had happened to me, I asked what, and she said turning into someone else, and that the Canadians in the common area said they knew more.

I rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror, and I was kind of shocked - I was white, had a full beard instead of just a mustache, and... Well, I was someone else! I was half-dazed as I walked away, and took a step toward Jordan's bed, but stopped, figuring I might as well know something before waking the lump under the covers.

Apparently, about half the Inn's capacity this week were returned visitors, and they told me what they knew: That the Inn was cursed somehow, that every couple of weeks it would turn the 13 people inside into copies of the last people to stay there, who had turned into the group before that, and so on back for decades, apparently. They said we weren't stuck like this - there was no rule saying you couldn't come back, and if you co-ordinate with the people who will become you, it's possible to build chains to get your real life back. Then two of them looked at each other and said you had to be really careful, because it's about being near where the other person was when they changed and a matter of inches could be a huge deal. They said that's why there was luggage in the room that the maids didn't clear out, because that was part of the ritual - you leave the next person to have your shape your clothes and a letter. Ours actually weren't in our room any more; they were among the things that had ticked Jordan off when we arrived, and he wound up dumping them in the lobby. Fortunately, they hadn't been stolen, so I opened one and found a letter to "the new Gary Goldstein". It turned out that I was now a couple years older and from a Jewish family in the Baltimore suburbs. The rest of his story was sort of like mine, but different in the details - got through college and even law school, though apparently at the bottom of the class, but hadn't passed the bar in three attempts. Not so different from getting a degree in electrical engineering only to wind up with an internship that didn't lead to a job. Working in the family deli sounded better than a big-box electronics store, especially since it led to--

Well, at that point, I rushed back to the room, pulled the covers off Jordan, and gasped. He'd become Deirdre O'Connell, Gary's fiance. Physically, she's about the most un-Jordan-like person you could imagine - about ten inches shorter, Caucasian, the sort of redhead that gets covered in freckles, heart-shaped face, slender neck... Not a classic beauty, maybe, but cute, and less than half his mass - the tank top he had worn to bed was so oversized that a pert little breast was visible in its entirety through the neck hole. I threw the covers back on and just sat there, although I did go to drag the bags back into the room and finish the letter.

I fished out Gary's phone, which had of course lost its charge over the past couple of weeks, and plugged it into one of the chargers, and started writing my own letter. There wasn't much to put in - my job, my parents, Kareena. I figured arranged marriages probably seemed strange to any non-Hindu who became me, but not to worry - we hadn't even had the formal engagement ceremony yet, and she was much too focused on her career for sex, so just be nice to her. Eventually the phone charged enough to show all the messages that had been left for Gary, most wondering where he had been for the past week, and that if I didn't show up for work on Sunday, I was fired, brother's grandkid or no brother's grandkid.

By that time, the sun was rising and a look at the train schedules suggested we get a move on. I was really uncomfortable shaking "Dierdre" awake, but it had to be done. Eventually, she stirred, slapping at me and wanting to know who I was and what the fuck I wanted, and I told her that I was Ravi, and she was right about this place being terrible, but we had to get going. I pulled her out of bed - she was shockingly light compared to how Jordan had been and dragged her into the bathroom so she could see herself in the mirror while telling her everything I'd heard. She fainted dead away.

It sounds kind of funny, but have you ever had someone faint on you? It may not be as freaky as waking up looking like someone else, but it's not as far off as you might think; you just don't know what to do! I tried splashing some water on her face, but apparently Deirdre faints like Jordan sleeps. I ran back into the lobby, and while nobody else could wake her, one of the nice Canadian girls was able to get her into some sweats when I said we had to take the train. Looked at me kind of funny, but seemed to understand when I said that Gary was in enough trouble already.

We split a cab to the train station rather than drag Deirdre, laughing nervously when the cabbie made a joke about how the redhead seemed to enjoy her last night of vacation a little too much. Thankfully, nobody thought my signature on the receipt was too weird when I bought the two tickets to Baltimore, and we're on our way now.

/Gary

Cliff/Tori: Weekend Away

What a week it's been. Going away last weekend kinda threw me off and I just didn't feel like summarizing the whole weekend, but I figured I'd better get around to it by now.

As I was making plans to go to Louisville to see Tori and Rob, I realized how difficult it is to just up and do something like that independently when you live with your "family." Obviously I never would have just up and took off out of state when I was living with my parents, because A) I had nowhere to go and B) No money to get there. The first point, as you can tell, is settled. I shouldn't need much occasion to see the person whose face I am wearing. The second point, well, that's one of the pleasant side-effects of living with Tori's family. I don't pay rent, contribute minimally to the groceries, don't buy clothes and spend relatively little on entertainment. I make a healthy wage and it's all just sitting in Tori's bank account. So I figured I could stand a $300+ plane ticket to Louisville. (Compare a 2-hour flight to a 17-hour bus ride at maybe half the cost. Somewhere, my mom is sensing that I spent nearly $200 when I didn't have to, and sighing.)

I arrived early on Saturday morning and found a smartly-dressed young woman waiting for me. I was a little uncertain about meeting her. She had sent me a photo to show what she looked like, but if you've ever met someone online (for example) you'll know that sometimes photos are deceptive.

She turned to see me. Her eyes lit up with recognition mixed with awe. In heels she was considerably taller than me in running shoes. She had straight, shoulder-length brown hair and wore a blouse and skirt combo. (I just typed that and wondered whether I would've described her in the same way when I was a man.) Similar body type to Tori. By the end of the weekend I resented how close both she and Rob had landed to their original bodies.

She led me to the parking lot excitedly, going on at lightspeed about how incredible it was to finally see me, that is herself, and made it very clear that she was both disturbed and fascinated that a guy like me had become her (aren't we all?) She hardly let me get a word in edgewise and peppered me with commentary about her current life. We got to her car and she talked about how she was still getting used to driving. Tori has a license, of course, but as you might've guessed from my descriptions she didn't exactly have a set of wheels of her own.

We got to the house, an upper middle class place in the suburbs, to drop off my luggage. If the entire Trading Post experience is a roll of the dice, it seemed to pay off for Rob and Tori, who became Gary and Karen Costas. In addition to no gender mix-up, Rob has a junior exec job at a beverage corporation (read: liquor.) Karen is a young intern and fill-in weathergirl at one of the local stations. I can't remember if it was CBS or NBC or what, but anyway. Apparently she's got limited room for advancement due to not being a trained meteorologist, but hey, that's why she's a fill-in.

My point is, financially, they're well off, good-looking, healthy people and the longer I spent with them, the more it ate away at me. I told myself it was nothing to worry about, that it probably had something to do with the curse putting pressure on my perception of them. I'm so used to thinking in terms of "The curse does this or that" that I can hardly tell what I'm actually thinking anymore anyway, or what is magic, or what is Tori's body. It can be... complicated.

"Gary" came out from the den to greet me, and I caught this look in his eye, this very unnerving "I've seen you naked and it doesn't matter to me that you're really a guy" look. I tried to avoid addressing him directly. After showing me the house Tori whisked me away for "girl time."

This, of course, necessitated going out to the mall. Still absorbed in herself, Tori said that she gets that it may not be my thing, but as Karen she has so much extra money and has no idea what else to do with it, besides it could be fun for me.

"I mean, it's just so weird," she says, "I look at you, and I see... me. It's like having a twin. You're this whole stranger person who looks exactly like me. But I know, I mean, you've told me about yourself. It's just so hard to put the two together." I should note that I was slightly girled-up in low-rise jeans and a black girl-tee with a pink design on it.

We went for lunch and I caught her up on what I'd been doing with her life. I told her what I was doing for a living, how I was trying to keep up her friendships with Raine and Sara, and she just sighed wistfully. The conversation didn't seem to gain much momentum, which I thought odd.

She'd said that she had wanted to meet Alia, but apparently, he had something else going on this weekend and so couldn't join me (also, no money) so I was going to have to be her gal pal. She dragged me through the stores, put me through the motions. I felt like I was her kid and she was a mommy having to keep me from wandering off to the electronics department.

But I bore with her because of my whole "Torification" thing, I'm trying to take an interest in my appearance. It's just that, looking around some of the fancy stores she was shopping in, there was nothing in there I could actually see myself wanting to wear, as much as I'd adjusted. Finally, she caught on and with a glint in her eye got an idea. Her mission was now to find me my style.

In stark contrast to her younger sister, Tori is most definitely a girly girl, and so I've had to put up with a certain level of femininity in my wardrobe choices. But, she said, it's remarkable what they're doing with tomboy fashions lately. It wasn't necessarily her style, but that didn't mean "she" (meaning me, in her body) couldn't pull off that kind of look.

Suddenly she seemed a lot more approachable and open-minded about this whole thing and I actually ended up walking around with a considerable amount of shopping bags. Once I stepped back and really looked at myself, it was really remarkable. Fashion I could get behind, but still feel like myself. I must've bought every variety of flannel shirt in American Eagle, which is weird because I could've sworn I hated that place.

We came home to find Rob cooking. Tori looked just a little put out by the concept; neither of them was much of a cook but they were trying. The results were less than impressive, some overcooked chicken and mushy potatoes. Not that I'm much of a cook either, most of what I make comes out of the microwave.

As we ate, Rob looked me over and said, "So... Cliff, right? Man, I don't know what I'd be doing if I was you. I'd just be going crazy." I felt a little embarrassed. I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew the topic had to come up eventually.

"I'm just taking it one day at a time, really," I answered non-committaly.

"I saw all those shopping bags you came in with," he smirked, probably thinking he was being funny, "Did the inn make you like shopping?"

Grimacing, I responded, "I just... wanted some stuff of my own to wear. No big deal." He nodded, faux-understandingly. Tori chastised him, "Don't be rude."

After a brief and painful silence, during which I finished my food, my phone began to ring. Tori jumped at the sound of it, then seemed slightly embarrassed at her (rather appropriate) reaction. I grabbed it and wandered toward the stairs for some privacy.

It was Tori's mom, checking in. For a cover story, I had told them I was meeting up with some "new friends" I had met over the summer, which I guess isn't far from the truth. She quizzed me what the house was like, who they were, was I doing fine. It's weird, she hadn't seemed overly protective when I was actually at home with her, but she was quite overt here. When I assuaged her fears, she let me off.

Tori came by to see me exhaustedly hanging up. "Is she always like this?"

She shrugged "If I had to guess, it has to do with disappearing in Maine for weeks." True enough. "Sorry about the little display down there. Rob's a really cool guy but he can be very embarrassing."

"How did you start... seeing him?"

"It's just one of those things. I met him through a friend who was his wife's hairdresser. When I met him they were still together and then, I dunno, things happened."

She wasn't being very clear, but I guess she was giving up all the details she wanted to. Which, I should add, is one of the frustrating things about the Inn life, never feeling like you've got the whole story, walking around in the dark, never sure what they next weird thing to come up will be.

"So, how is married life for you guys, anyway?"

She sighed. "It's... weird. Like, he is really anti-marriage, after everything with his wife, ex-wife, whatever. So it's more like we're dating, or we're roommates who fuck. Except, not so much."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

"It's... okay, I guess. I don't know. We weren't that close, I just wanted to go someplace. After Raine and Sara ditched me for Europe I was lonely and he had the whole Inn thing worked out with good timing." She laughed in spite of herself. The way she'd said "Raine and Sara" struck me as slightly bitter, although they have never seemed anything but kind to me. So I asked.

"It's not that they're mean, we're totally best friends forever, but haven't you noticed they sometimes act slightly superior? Sara has a good job. Raine is getting her Masters. And I couldn't keep a job cutting hair. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

I wanted to comfort her, so I said, "I guess you just hadn't found your way yet. There's nothing wrong with that, you're only 22. You'll still have plenty of options open when you get back."

She paused and contemplated that for a moment, then changed the subject. "So, how about a fashion show? You and me. I didn't get a chance to see you, me, whoever, in some of these clothes."

I was a little hesitant, and sighed. "Okay, let me go change."

She stopped me, "No, no. Don't be lame. Go ahead, change right here."

"What, in front of you?"

"Cliff, it's my body. I know what it all looks like."

"Yeah, but..." There was a really logical way of objecting to this but I couldn't come up with the exact wording. So I just said "Whatever" and began to disrobe. It wasn't until I had my pants half off that I realized why I hadn't wanted to go through with it.

She said through suppressed laughter, "Oh my God. Cliff. You're wearing a thong."

Yes, dear readers. What can I tell you. Tori only left me so many pairs of regular-cut panties, and sue me, I haven't gotten around to buyning my own. Once I tried them on (Torification, Torification, Torification,) I didn't see much of a difference, since I don't have to concern myself with my junk hanging out. I felt my face beaming with embarrassment. It was a new low in "not feeling like a guy" and her chuckles embarrassed me, even though she assured she saw nothing wrong with me.

"You know," she told me, "I know you're a guy and everything, inside, but I have to say. You make a really cool girl-friend. Once you open up a little bit, you're really fun to be around." I said thanks, I've had a lot of female "just-friends" (sigh) so maybe I picked some stuff up, or maybe it's just the way I am. It's the kind of compliment that also hurts a little.

I dressed myself in a new outfit. She approached. She approved of the outfit, but began to play around with my hair obsessively. "Honestly," she said, "I can't believe nobody's noticed what you're doing to my hair," she was half-kidding. "It's awful. I have a reputation."

She got really close. Almost uncomfortably so. Our boobs touched. We were eyeball to eyeball. I haven't been had a girl that close to my face in a very, very, very long time. I realized there that, one slight muscle reflex and I could've kissed her. And then what? She objects to making out with herself? How could she blame me? It would've shown Rob, and myself, that deep down I am still a man.

But I didn't. I just let her run her fingers through my hair - an intimate gesture for sure - feeling weird about the whole thing, wondering if I was turned on even by this. Oh, God, I still don't know.

Sunday was a blur as we did some touristy things, took some photos, (there's some really nice forestry by the Ohio river) and then that evening they took me back to the airport. I got in after midnight Sunday. Mae was up, channel surfing, but we didn't have time for our usual witty repartee as I just wanted to flop down in bed, which I did, in my clothes.

Obviously there's stuff I'm omitting, but if it becomes important, I'll mention it later. I have to work tomorrow and I've been writing for what feels like hours