I walked into my old employer very apprehensive. I had originally gotten hired with them through Alex, and we know he turned out not to be on the level. Whatever his objectives were, or the peopel he works for, he was trying to convince me to go along with him... in the time since, I sometimes wonder if my firing had something to do with that, maybe to help coerce me. Heaven knows I didn't stick it out in this body just to hawk cell phones at the mall. Maybe I'm seeing connections where there are none but I think anything is fair game.
I'm am SURE, however, that this conspiracy, if you can call it that, has to do with getting called up out of the blue and being offered Alex's job. Supposedly, he was moving on, and recommended me - not somebody who was still with the company - as his replacement. I was very unnerved that they would want me back, if they had anything to do with these mystery people, and particularly bothered that this new Alex would think of me at all.
So I went in to the manager's office, Alvin, and I sat across from him just kind of staring intently, trying to figure him out. I asked about the job, and it seemed to be exactly what he was describing, for in-hour IT services for the entire company. Okay, great, as long as my skills aren't too rusty. "Why had Alex recommended me?" Alex had made the argument that I was as qualified as him (true) and was familiar with the company structure (not as true, I was fired just after a merger, but hey.) Alvin basically reassured me that the job was mine if I wanted it.
I hesitated. I wanted to wring him for answers but if he had any he wasn't coming out with them. I told him that if there was anything else going on, he could tell me, I was in the know. He looked at me like I was a lunatic. He asked if I wanted the job, and I said I'd have to consider it.
That night, I went over to Alex's place, hoping I wasn't breaking their rules or putting myself in danger. I also hoped he hadn't moved: luckily, he hadn't. When I pushed the buzzer, and I heard his voice ask "Hello?" my heart lept out of my chest, and I squeaked the most awkward response: "Hi, um, my name is Tori, and..." he interrupted, "I know. I know. Come on up." He was expecting me. Gulp.
I nearly hyperventilated on my way up on the elevator. I hadn't seen Alex, that face, that man I had spent a year with, since he, well, stopped being himself (or George, rather.) And I knew that whatever this gentleman was going to say, whether I could trust him or not, was going to deal with some vry uncomfortable truths about my life, that I just don't want to deal with. But before I take this job, which I really wanted to do, I needed to know what was really going on.
As soon as I knocked on the door, he was there to open it, like he was waiting for me. I nearly fainted when I saw his face, I swear I just couldn't deal with seeing this person with all the baggage attached to that appearance, but I collected myself, and he had me take a seat and offered me a drink. I declined. He said, "I was hoping you'd stop by."
"Really?"
"We have a lot to discuss, but I didn't think you'd just come over if I asked you to. I felt sure that you wouldn't take that job without at least seeing me first."
"What do you know about me? About who and what I am?" I asked.
"I know plenty, Tori. I know you used to be John Henry Clifford, an IT technichian from Buffalo, New York. You've been here since the summer of 2009, and when you couldn't get your old body back, you stuck it out, got comfortable, sought happiness... that's admirable. I know you used to date the man who occupied this body, but when he left it, to go live as someone else, you declined to follow him. And here we are."
"Is this for real? The job? Or are you just playing a game with me?"
"You need to learn how to ask questions, no offense," he said, taking a sip of his water, "Because I wouldn't tell you if I was."
"I guess that makes sense, I just find it hard to believe you have my best interests at heart."
"If it helps, I'm really just looking out for my best interests. Yours are incidental."
"How comforting," I rolled my eyes. "So what are your interests?"
"I want out."
"Out?"
"You asked me if I was playing a game. I'm not, but someone is. It's a lot bigger than you or me, but it's... sort of a con. They have a lot of influence over who goes where. There are a lot of favours owed. I got caught up in a while, but I'm ready to get out, and I thought, since I'm leaving anyway, I might as well do you this favour."
"Why do you care about me?"
"This isn't the first time we've met, Tori." He kind of chuckled to himself, "This is embarrassing, but I guess I wasn't going to win you over without mentioning this... I was Danny."
My eyes bulged out. "Danny? My friend Danny?"
"For a while, yeah. Believe me, that was a difficult couple of years to navigate."
"So... when Raine, and Danny... you were... That was you...?"
His face turned red, "I tried. She was willing to try, and for a little while it worked, but... Believe me, I am really sorry to her about that. She was really understanding. That's why I'm doing this, in a way. I care about her, but I can't be in her life like this. The Inn will be open for the summer soon, so I... I've lined up one last chance. Believe me, the Powers That Be are happy to have a life like mine that they can use to leverage people."
"So they just use people? Use their lives as incentives?"
"It's a carrot on a stick. You wind up in a body that is not to your liking - either by accident or because they put you there - they tempt you to work for them by offering a new body, or even your old one back. Holding you hostage. They've been at it for a long time, so they've got connections, money, power... but I guess there are limits. You need to take the bait, and you never did."
"No," I said, thinking about how close I was to going with George. "I never did."
"Tor, you need to know how badly I wanted to talk to you about this. Even going back to when it all started, watching you date him, while I was powerless on the sidelines trying to survive in my own situation, knowing you were going to get your heart broken. I'm sorry you got caught up in this."
"It's... it's all in the past," I said, still stunned. "Thanks for being honest."
"If it helps... don't trust anybody. Even me." He's right, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to go thorugh life looking at everything skeptically. I wish I could take him and everything else at face value.
I stayed a bit longer, rehashing old times, catching up on what was what... the whole meeting was really long and really therapeutic, and if I've muddled up the exact wording of the conversation here, I apologize to Alex.
I left feeling a lot better about life, in a way... if "taking the bait" with George was my only risk at being sucked into this, then taking the job was a smart decision and I might be safe now. Maybe somewhere down the line they'd try to get me again, but according to Alex, they may have moved on. I told him that I would do everything I could to help him with Raine, if he wanted it, when she comes back and he comes is in his new body.
I asked Alex if it was safe to blog about this, if openly discussing his identity, and mine, made us targets. He said it was fine, that the "Agency" people didn't really pay much attention... anything I was going to share on here that they needed to know, they would be able to find out anyway.
Not terrifying at all, sure.
It's a relief, after nearly 4 years, to feel like I know even more about the world I live in. The things people could do with that Inn... scary stuff.
But I've worked my last shift at the phone place, starting at the IT job tomorrow... this feels like a new chapter. At 26, I am back on track to living my life. Fingers crossed.
Showing posts with label George. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George. Show all posts
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Tori: Woah hold on.
Here I am, complaining about boy troubles, and all of a sudden I get an e-mail.
It's from my old employer. Offering me a job.
Alex -- or whoever looks like him nowadays -- is leaving his job. And he's recommending me for his replacement.
I'm just... floored. I don't know what to think.
I would so love to go back there. Get out of my rut, get my life moving again. But I'm suspicious... whoever this person is, he's probably mixed up in the same stuff George/Alex was, and I dson't know if I can trust him. Can I just take this offer at face value? What does he know about me? What does he expect me to do?
Should I go talk to this person and find out if he's on the up and up? Could it possibly end well?
I'm suddenly very dizzy.
It's from my old employer. Offering me a job.
Alex -- or whoever looks like him nowadays -- is leaving his job. And he's recommending me for his replacement.
I'm just... floored. I don't know what to think.
I would so love to go back there. Get out of my rut, get my life moving again. But I'm suspicious... whoever this person is, he's probably mixed up in the same stuff George/Alex was, and I dson't know if I can trust him. Can I just take this offer at face value? What does he know about me? What does he expect me to do?
Should I go talk to this person and find out if he's on the up and up? Could it possibly end well?
I'm suddenly very dizzy.
Monday, September 03, 2012
Tori: Done and gone
So... where was I.
Alex, aka George, gave me some time to think about the decision. For me it really wasn't a decision but I needed a lot of time to figure out how I was going to tell him that without revealing that it was because I have been to the Inn already.
We met up on a Saturday early in August when neither of us was working, at an outdoor cafe. I was probably trying to be cool, like in the movies, where you see people having top secret meetings in public. Also I was scared of what might happen if we were alone.
I sat down with him and began, "I've thought a lot about what you've told me... about yourself, about this magic Inn that transforms people... about your offer. I've spent a long time considering the possibilities."
I told him plainly, "I'm sorry... I don't want this. Alex, if you can move into this new life, why can't you come back and meet me again and tell me it's you? Why do you need me to go?" Since we know the Inn curse doesn't really work on me, and he's already told me, I thought I was being clever.
He twisted in his seat. "This new life of mine... it's going to be a long way away from here. And I'm not going to be able to come back to Philadelphia. If you love me, if you want to stay with me, you would have to come with me. Not just to the new place, but in a new life. That's the only way. It won't work if you're still... I mean, it would be a sacrifice, but it would be the only way. The only way. Please reconsider." He kept saying that, 'the only way.' It made me grit my teeth.
"I can't, though. My life, my family, my friends... you can't tell me it should be easy for me to walk away from that. If you were still George, and you had a chance to change your life, would you do it?"
"If I knew what I know now? That I'd be happy and in love and successful for the rest of my life? Yes."
He was making it so hard. So painful, but I swallowed my fear and told him again. I knew I was doing the right thing. "No. Still. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," he said. "I wish I could come back to you in a new body and say it's me... it's Alex... but you know there's a funny thing about this Inn curse. It keeps people from figuring it out. If you tell someone you've been to the inn, they won't believe you because they can't understand... unless they've been."
I gulped.
"But you do understand. So tell me again, Tori..." he said slowly, like he was putting quotation marks around my name, "Why don't you want to come back with me?"
I let out a fearful sigh. There was a long pause before I finally said, "You figured it out." I was shattered.
"You didn't react like someone who had never been to the Inn. You knew all the questions to ask. I could see you sorting it out in your head. Why didn't you think you could tell me?"
"I was worried that if you knew - that I was like you - that would make you think you could convince me to go. But I'm not like you. You're George in Alex's body, and I'm... I am Tori, okay? Nothing else matters about me and I could never walk away from this and I hope you'll understand. Just because I know what it's like to become another person doesn't mean I would ever want to again."
"I wish I could say the same," he said. "I wish I had a choice, even. But promises have been made. Deals are in motion, so for you and me, it's now or never."
I began to say, "If we could get more time..."
"We've had a year together," he said, "And it's been an amazing year. This is our only way forward together."
"Stop saying that," I said, "Please, stop acting like you don't have a choice. We can make it work, Alex, if we care about each other..."
"I'm doing this because I care about you," he said again. "I want the best for you, and you're never going to get it in Philly, striving for a career that you might never get back."
I paused, "I... what do you mean, get back?"
"Well that was sort of a clue, in retrospect," he said. "Beautiful girl like you. Used to be a hairdresser. One day you decide you're into computers? I can't believe I didn't see it right away."
I smiled in spite of myself, embarrassed. "Yeah," I sighed, "When I knew I was staying as Tori, that was a... direction I had to take."
His mood turned back to a bit humorous, "I guess in your old life, the guys weren't exactly lining up to date you, were they."
I almost laughed right out loud, but held it back and finally said, "No. No they definitely were not."
"If you're worried that you won't look good after the transformation, I can assure you--"
"It's not about that," I said firmly.
"That's why we're finally having this conversation," he said, that handsome gleam in his eye, "You fascinate me, Tori. I love how you didn't decide to skate by on your looks. A lot of people misjudge you because of who they think you are, but you're smart. And I want to get to know you more. The real you."
"You already do know the real me," I said. "I'm an honest person. I'm not comfortable taking the easy way out."
"I'm sorry you think of it that way," he said. "I'm sorry you're not more curious about the world outside of this city, where you can be so much more. Why are you so afraid to take a chance?"
Deep breath. "Because deep down, all I want, for the rest of my life, is to forget that Inn ever happened to me. I started fresh once, years ago, and I'm not doing it again. I'm keeping this life, for the good and the bad. You keep making me these vague promises for a better life, but there has to be a way for me to be happy without ever setting foot in that place again. There has to be. If that means you and I are done...
"This isn't easy for me, Alex," I said with a sniff. "If you love me... let me go."
"Okay," he whispered, obviously shaken. "Tori... if that's your decision... your final, final decision... there's nothing I can say to change your mind. Just know that I love you. No matter what. Whatever happens... I just hope you don't regret this someday."
And then he left. And that's the last I saw of him. I don't know if he was in Maine when Greg was. I don't know who he's become, or who's become him, if it was the original Alex or someone else. I don't know anything. I'm a little scared to ask.
Those words have haunted me all month, though. "Hope you don't regret this."
Alex, aka George, gave me some time to think about the decision. For me it really wasn't a decision but I needed a lot of time to figure out how I was going to tell him that without revealing that it was because I have been to the Inn already.
We met up on a Saturday early in August when neither of us was working, at an outdoor cafe. I was probably trying to be cool, like in the movies, where you see people having top secret meetings in public. Also I was scared of what might happen if we were alone.
I sat down with him and began, "I've thought a lot about what you've told me... about yourself, about this magic Inn that transforms people... about your offer. I've spent a long time considering the possibilities."
I told him plainly, "I'm sorry... I don't want this. Alex, if you can move into this new life, why can't you come back and meet me again and tell me it's you? Why do you need me to go?" Since we know the Inn curse doesn't really work on me, and he's already told me, I thought I was being clever.
He twisted in his seat. "This new life of mine... it's going to be a long way away from here. And I'm not going to be able to come back to Philadelphia. If you love me, if you want to stay with me, you would have to come with me. Not just to the new place, but in a new life. That's the only way. It won't work if you're still... I mean, it would be a sacrifice, but it would be the only way. The only way. Please reconsider." He kept saying that, 'the only way.' It made me grit my teeth.
"I can't, though. My life, my family, my friends... you can't tell me it should be easy for me to walk away from that. If you were still George, and you had a chance to change your life, would you do it?"
"If I knew what I know now? That I'd be happy and in love and successful for the rest of my life? Yes."
He was making it so hard. So painful, but I swallowed my fear and told him again. I knew I was doing the right thing. "No. Still. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," he said. "I wish I could come back to you in a new body and say it's me... it's Alex... but you know there's a funny thing about this Inn curse. It keeps people from figuring it out. If you tell someone you've been to the inn, they won't believe you because they can't understand... unless they've been."
I gulped.
"But you do understand. So tell me again, Tori..." he said slowly, like he was putting quotation marks around my name, "Why don't you want to come back with me?"
I let out a fearful sigh. There was a long pause before I finally said, "You figured it out." I was shattered.
"You didn't react like someone who had never been to the Inn. You knew all the questions to ask. I could see you sorting it out in your head. Why didn't you think you could tell me?"
"I was worried that if you knew - that I was like you - that would make you think you could convince me to go. But I'm not like you. You're George in Alex's body, and I'm... I am Tori, okay? Nothing else matters about me and I could never walk away from this and I hope you'll understand. Just because I know what it's like to become another person doesn't mean I would ever want to again."
"I wish I could say the same," he said. "I wish I had a choice, even. But promises have been made. Deals are in motion, so for you and me, it's now or never."
I began to say, "If we could get more time..."
"We've had a year together," he said, "And it's been an amazing year. This is our only way forward together."
"Stop saying that," I said, "Please, stop acting like you don't have a choice. We can make it work, Alex, if we care about each other..."
"I'm doing this because I care about you," he said again. "I want the best for you, and you're never going to get it in Philly, striving for a career that you might never get back."
I paused, "I... what do you mean, get back?"
"Well that was sort of a clue, in retrospect," he said. "Beautiful girl like you. Used to be a hairdresser. One day you decide you're into computers? I can't believe I didn't see it right away."
I smiled in spite of myself, embarrassed. "Yeah," I sighed, "When I knew I was staying as Tori, that was a... direction I had to take."
His mood turned back to a bit humorous, "I guess in your old life, the guys weren't exactly lining up to date you, were they."
I almost laughed right out loud, but held it back and finally said, "No. No they definitely were not."
"If you're worried that you won't look good after the transformation, I can assure you--"
"It's not about that," I said firmly.
"That's why we're finally having this conversation," he said, that handsome gleam in his eye, "You fascinate me, Tori. I love how you didn't decide to skate by on your looks. A lot of people misjudge you because of who they think you are, but you're smart. And I want to get to know you more. The real you."
"You already do know the real me," I said. "I'm an honest person. I'm not comfortable taking the easy way out."
"I'm sorry you think of it that way," he said. "I'm sorry you're not more curious about the world outside of this city, where you can be so much more. Why are you so afraid to take a chance?"
Deep breath. "Because deep down, all I want, for the rest of my life, is to forget that Inn ever happened to me. I started fresh once, years ago, and I'm not doing it again. I'm keeping this life, for the good and the bad. You keep making me these vague promises for a better life, but there has to be a way for me to be happy without ever setting foot in that place again. There has to be. If that means you and I are done...
"This isn't easy for me, Alex," I said with a sniff. "If you love me... let me go."
"Okay," he whispered, obviously shaken. "Tori... if that's your decision... your final, final decision... there's nothing I can say to change your mind. Just know that I love you. No matter what. Whatever happens... I just hope you don't regret this someday."
And then he left. And that's the last I saw of him. I don't know if he was in Maine when Greg was. I don't know who he's become, or who's become him, if it was the original Alex or someone else. I don't know anything. I'm a little scared to ask.
Those words have haunted me all month, though. "Hope you don't regret this."
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Tori: Reverting
For a while after Alex told me the truth about him, it was like was had agreed to break up.
It was weird the way we left it. Even though we were such an important part of each other's life for a year, suddenly he drops this bomb on me and disappears, pre-emptively ending our relationship before he was even gone. And me... god, I'm ashamed of myself. Suddenly it was like I was Cliff again, afraid to peel back the curtain and TALK to him.
Truth-telling time: When I was a guy, I ruined a few potential relationships because I was afraid to check in on somebody when things were in doubt. Things could have been salvaged. I've come to prefer being a woman partly because I'm more comfortable being pursued, and now when the chips are down, I revert back to old habits. I was a little disgusted with myself when I realized that. I spent weeks mourning a relationship that had not ended yet.
I went and saw Alex - I won't call him George because he's Alex to me. I told him to meet me at a cafe near our old workplace on his lunchbreak.
He sat down across from me. "I'm so glad you called," he said.
"I've spent a lot of time thinking about what you told me. Trying to make sense of it." I stammered for a bit, assessing the situation... letting him know my "grasp" of it based on the idea that I'd never heard of the Inn before, before finally saying "So all of this means you have to leave... you have to stop being Alex... you have to give this person back his body. But whoever you are... we've grown very close over the last year. Tell me that isn't a lie."
"It's isn't," he said firmly.
I took a deep breath, "Then I don't see why this has to be the end for us. I don't see why I can't meet the real George Mueller. Why we can't still be together."
He smiled. "Tori, I keep asking myself that same question. If I could walk out of that Inn the same old George I used to be... if I could come back to Philly and hold you in my arms I would. You're half the reason I stayed as Alex. The other half, though, is that there isn't a George Mueller to go back to. Don't ask why, it's a long story, but I've spent the last year trying to figure out how to make it work. How to keep you and give Alex back his body and find a new one for myself... and that's when I met them."
My back tensed. "Them?"
"It's sort of hard to explain, Tori... see, there's a lot of people out there who get caught up in this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, of course, but it's sort of a support group, slash... agency. They use the inn to trade bodies, to arrange for transformations. Deliberate ones, to benefit people. And they've found something for me."
At first I was thinking of Fletcher and his travelers... but that didn't sound quite right. From what I know, Fletcher and his friends just kind of float around. There's nothing deliberate about it. My teeth clenched. This was getting weird.
He went on, "They have a lot of resources, they pulled some strings... it's not important. But part of this deal means I have to take on someone else's life for a while. Again. And that's going to keep me away from you... I know you don't do well with long distance relationships but there's not much I can do. I already promised I would be out of Alex's life by the end of the summer."
I sat there quietly. All I could say was "So... it's out of your control?"
"Yes," he said. "They were pretty specific. They won't even let me tell you who I'm going to become."
"I see," I said, breathlessly.
"Unless..." he said, "You want to go with me?"
I lifted my eyes. My jaw fell open. My throat caught itself trying to say "What?" like I was a female Michael Cera.
"I know this is a long shot," he said, "Like I said, I wouldn't wish my experience on anyone, but good things can come out of it, and I think maybe... if everything goes according to plan, if you take this risk with me, we can be happy together. We can make it work. I must sound so crazy right now, but I think I could convince them to give us a good start."
"It's so crazy," he went on, "And I feel like a jerk for even asking. It's just that I feel like maybe... it could be good for you. A fresh start. Sometimes I see you when you don't think I'm looking... I see this look on your face when you think about your life, and it's not all you think it could be. And you've spent so much time lately figuring out how to get to the next phase in your life... your job, our relationship... wouldn't it be nice to just skip ahead? Wouldn't it be nice to start something together where we knew we could have it all figured out?"
He began to get up from the table. "You don't need to give me an answer now. We have all month. Think it over. These people can do a lot for us... money, security, a great life... I know it must seem like a big risk, but if there was ever a sure chance for happiness for us in this world, it's this."
He leaned over and kissed me. I was still stunned. I've been stunned ever since. Every time I think about it, my stomach twists.
I've been thinking about it a lot. The truth is... he has a point. Him saying that proves he gets me, regardless of knowing the truth. I've been dissatisfied with a lot of the turns my life has taken, hit a lot of dead ends trying to make this career work and get back on a path. For a lot of that, the only thing that's kept me sane and happy has been this relationship, and a lot of "that look" has been my concern that I should be happy with things other than my relationship. And I value that so much that when I thought it was ending - first because we fought, then because of the truth - I wanted to curl up and die.
What Alex is offering is this mysterious fresh start... it's tempting. Keep him, and use this mysterious group (Pygmalion? Someone else?) for my own benefit... all while stealing or borrowing someone else's life. I would feel very guilty about that. Not everyone would be as understanding as ex-Tori about being removed from their life. I think I remember reading Fletcher saying "it's going to happen to someone anyway." If they're as influential as George says, then this decision could set me up for life.
But it's not just that. It's me. It's all the work, all the blood, sweat and tears I've put into this life for the last three years, going from a frightened little boy to a thriving, happy woman. Say something goes wrong and I become the man, and Alex the woman... would he be able to cope? Would I? I already scoffed at the idea of taking my own old life back. If I ended up that way, I might be able to adjust back, but I think I would resent Alex for taking me out of a very comfortable situation... and that's not even counting me urging him to get used to it.
In a way, it would be easier if I told him the truth about me. He'd know I know where he's coming from, and maybe we could work it out from there. I'm still undecided, though. If you were me, and you were a woman who used to be a guy... you might be reluctant to tell your boyfriend. Inn or no inn, a lot of guys can't handle that, and I don't want him looking at me and imagining Cliff. Besides, I'm worried that if I admit it to him, he'll use it as a reason why I should go along with his plan. "What's another body to you? It's not like you're really Tori."
I can't. I can't walk away from this, no matter how shitty my life sometimes feels. This isn't just a body to me, this is my life. This is home. There's nothing that's going to change that for me. I just became an aunt, and when I held that little baby girl Aurora, I felt more amazed at the world than I have in a very long time. I have a sister that I've watched grow into an amazing young lady. I have friends who, without realizing it, helped me learn to become myself. I can't leave that in the hands of another person.
And that kills me, because it means that very soon, I'm going to be on my own again.
Annnnd... I'm crying again.
It was weird the way we left it. Even though we were such an important part of each other's life for a year, suddenly he drops this bomb on me and disappears, pre-emptively ending our relationship before he was even gone. And me... god, I'm ashamed of myself. Suddenly it was like I was Cliff again, afraid to peel back the curtain and TALK to him.
Truth-telling time: When I was a guy, I ruined a few potential relationships because I was afraid to check in on somebody when things were in doubt. Things could have been salvaged. I've come to prefer being a woman partly because I'm more comfortable being pursued, and now when the chips are down, I revert back to old habits. I was a little disgusted with myself when I realized that. I spent weeks mourning a relationship that had not ended yet.
I went and saw Alex - I won't call him George because he's Alex to me. I told him to meet me at a cafe near our old workplace on his lunchbreak.
He sat down across from me. "I'm so glad you called," he said.
"I've spent a lot of time thinking about what you told me. Trying to make sense of it." I stammered for a bit, assessing the situation... letting him know my "grasp" of it based on the idea that I'd never heard of the Inn before, before finally saying "So all of this means you have to leave... you have to stop being Alex... you have to give this person back his body. But whoever you are... we've grown very close over the last year. Tell me that isn't a lie."
"It's isn't," he said firmly.
I took a deep breath, "Then I don't see why this has to be the end for us. I don't see why I can't meet the real George Mueller. Why we can't still be together."
He smiled. "Tori, I keep asking myself that same question. If I could walk out of that Inn the same old George I used to be... if I could come back to Philly and hold you in my arms I would. You're half the reason I stayed as Alex. The other half, though, is that there isn't a George Mueller to go back to. Don't ask why, it's a long story, but I've spent the last year trying to figure out how to make it work. How to keep you and give Alex back his body and find a new one for myself... and that's when I met them."
My back tensed. "Them?"
"It's sort of hard to explain, Tori... see, there's a lot of people out there who get caught up in this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, of course, but it's sort of a support group, slash... agency. They use the inn to trade bodies, to arrange for transformations. Deliberate ones, to benefit people. And they've found something for me."
At first I was thinking of Fletcher and his travelers... but that didn't sound quite right. From what I know, Fletcher and his friends just kind of float around. There's nothing deliberate about it. My teeth clenched. This was getting weird.
He went on, "They have a lot of resources, they pulled some strings... it's not important. But part of this deal means I have to take on someone else's life for a while. Again. And that's going to keep me away from you... I know you don't do well with long distance relationships but there's not much I can do. I already promised I would be out of Alex's life by the end of the summer."
I sat there quietly. All I could say was "So... it's out of your control?"
"Yes," he said. "They were pretty specific. They won't even let me tell you who I'm going to become."
"I see," I said, breathlessly.
"Unless..." he said, "You want to go with me?"
I lifted my eyes. My jaw fell open. My throat caught itself trying to say "What?" like I was a female Michael Cera.
"I know this is a long shot," he said, "Like I said, I wouldn't wish my experience on anyone, but good things can come out of it, and I think maybe... if everything goes according to plan, if you take this risk with me, we can be happy together. We can make it work. I must sound so crazy right now, but I think I could convince them to give us a good start."
"It's so crazy," he went on, "And I feel like a jerk for even asking. It's just that I feel like maybe... it could be good for you. A fresh start. Sometimes I see you when you don't think I'm looking... I see this look on your face when you think about your life, and it's not all you think it could be. And you've spent so much time lately figuring out how to get to the next phase in your life... your job, our relationship... wouldn't it be nice to just skip ahead? Wouldn't it be nice to start something together where we knew we could have it all figured out?"
He began to get up from the table. "You don't need to give me an answer now. We have all month. Think it over. These people can do a lot for us... money, security, a great life... I know it must seem like a big risk, but if there was ever a sure chance for happiness for us in this world, it's this."
He leaned over and kissed me. I was still stunned. I've been stunned ever since. Every time I think about it, my stomach twists.
I've been thinking about it a lot. The truth is... he has a point. Him saying that proves he gets me, regardless of knowing the truth. I've been dissatisfied with a lot of the turns my life has taken, hit a lot of dead ends trying to make this career work and get back on a path. For a lot of that, the only thing that's kept me sane and happy has been this relationship, and a lot of "that look" has been my concern that I should be happy with things other than my relationship. And I value that so much that when I thought it was ending - first because we fought, then because of the truth - I wanted to curl up and die.
What Alex is offering is this mysterious fresh start... it's tempting. Keep him, and use this mysterious group (Pygmalion? Someone else?) for my own benefit... all while stealing or borrowing someone else's life. I would feel very guilty about that. Not everyone would be as understanding as ex-Tori about being removed from their life. I think I remember reading Fletcher saying "it's going to happen to someone anyway." If they're as influential as George says, then this decision could set me up for life.
But it's not just that. It's me. It's all the work, all the blood, sweat and tears I've put into this life for the last three years, going from a frightened little boy to a thriving, happy woman. Say something goes wrong and I become the man, and Alex the woman... would he be able to cope? Would I? I already scoffed at the idea of taking my own old life back. If I ended up that way, I might be able to adjust back, but I think I would resent Alex for taking me out of a very comfortable situation... and that's not even counting me urging him to get used to it.
In a way, it would be easier if I told him the truth about me. He'd know I know where he's coming from, and maybe we could work it out from there. I'm still undecided, though. If you were me, and you were a woman who used to be a guy... you might be reluctant to tell your boyfriend. Inn or no inn, a lot of guys can't handle that, and I don't want him looking at me and imagining Cliff. Besides, I'm worried that if I admit it to him, he'll use it as a reason why I should go along with his plan. "What's another body to you? It's not like you're really Tori."
I can't. I can't walk away from this, no matter how shitty my life sometimes feels. This isn't just a body to me, this is my life. This is home. There's nothing that's going to change that for me. I just became an aunt, and when I held that little baby girl Aurora, I felt more amazed at the world than I have in a very long time. I have a sister that I've watched grow into an amazing young lady. I have friends who, without realizing it, helped me learn to become myself. I can't leave that in the hands of another person.
And that kills me, because it means that very soon, I'm going to be on my own again.
Annnnd... I'm crying again.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Arthur/Penny: You can't go home again
Although maybe you can; it's just a matter of deciding what home is.
I did my last bit for CalSports last night. After the Stealth were eliminated from the playoffs, I told George that I wasn't going to sign a new contract to cover the Dragons, and gave two weeks' notice on the scorecasts. He was kind of surprised, but he could also see it's been something I've wanted to do for a while. He threw me a great going-away party last night, and had enough respect for me that he didn't spend a lot of time trying to convince me to stay.
Rick didn't take it quite so well. He couldn't believe I'd make that kind of move without consulting him. On a certain level, he does have a point; if you have a career where an agent makes sense, he needs to be in the loop on your career choices. Still, I said, the fact that he said "consulting" rather than "informing" was part of the reason I didn't. There'd be no point.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means..." We were at a restaurant, and I probably did some awkward thing then - reaching for my glass, deciding I didn't want to use that as a delaying technique for what I had to say, deciding I really was thirsty... "It means that this isn't that kind of career move. It's not about wanting to change jobs because I'm not getting paid enough, or the cheerleader thing made me feel uncomfortable, or I've got another option. I just don't want to do TV sports any more. If I'd consulted you, you'd have tried to talk me out of it, because to do otherwise would be arguing against your own interests."
He said that wasn't completely true; this would be a challenge, but we could work together on the next phase of my career. That's when I told him that I wasn't just quitting this job, but his agency. There were a bunch of reasons; it felt weird to have that kind of working relationship with someone I'd slept with, I wanted to write and his agency was more set up for in front of the camera talent (and media where there was a camera!). Besides, I was going to be leaving California--
"Without telling your boyfriend?"
"Come on, Rick, we haven't been that in... I don't know if we were ever that. We were just convenient and safe; it was easier having someone we could talk to about everything. But you don't need that any more. You've... assimilated, I guess. You like the life you're in. I'm probably all that's keeping you from packing up shop and moving to Los Angeles to take it to the next level. And don't think I don't know about the pretty young things you've been seeing on the side."
"You could..."
"I don't want to! I don't want to live where I have a chance of running into the jerk calling himself Arthur Milligan on the street, let alone at work, even if I'll miss my home town. I don't want to spend years trying to fake knowledge of lacrosse or really concentrate on learning that, or just being a pretty face that reads sports scores. I want to research, and learn, and create."
"And you'll be doing that...?"
"Back in Boston. I've got a friend there, and know some in New York, and... Well, you may be content with what the Inn made you, and figure your time worrying about it is at an end, but I want to know more. I need to know more, and I'm going to have to be near it to do that."
It went downhill after that; I think in a while he'll accept that this is best, but that was pretty much like being fired for him, and nobody likes that.
I do think everyone should try quitting their job at least once in their life, though - the next two weeks can be some of the most enjoyable you can imagine, if you still get along with your co-workers, because none of the annoying crap touches you. You can really look at and think about what you're doing objectively.
And if you're in my position - which you're probably not - there is something quite liberating about selling everything you inherited from the person whose appearance you took. All the bulky exercise equipment, furniture, books, movies (I'm keeping some of the electronics) - gone. I'd sell the car, too, but I figured I'd wait and see how useful it is back in Boston before going that far. I've had Lyn scouting out apartments for me, and I've got a few job interviews lined up. It's going to be exciting.
I am tempted to stay here, but it's not what I want and really need right now. And it will be great to see Lyn regularly again, especially after not having seen her for a year.
-Art/Penny
I did my last bit for CalSports last night. After the Stealth were eliminated from the playoffs, I told George that I wasn't going to sign a new contract to cover the Dragons, and gave two weeks' notice on the scorecasts. He was kind of surprised, but he could also see it's been something I've wanted to do for a while. He threw me a great going-away party last night, and had enough respect for me that he didn't spend a lot of time trying to convince me to stay.
Rick didn't take it quite so well. He couldn't believe I'd make that kind of move without consulting him. On a certain level, he does have a point; if you have a career where an agent makes sense, he needs to be in the loop on your career choices. Still, I said, the fact that he said "consulting" rather than "informing" was part of the reason I didn't. There'd be no point.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means..." We were at a restaurant, and I probably did some awkward thing then - reaching for my glass, deciding I didn't want to use that as a delaying technique for what I had to say, deciding I really was thirsty... "It means that this isn't that kind of career move. It's not about wanting to change jobs because I'm not getting paid enough, or the cheerleader thing made me feel uncomfortable, or I've got another option. I just don't want to do TV sports any more. If I'd consulted you, you'd have tried to talk me out of it, because to do otherwise would be arguing against your own interests."
He said that wasn't completely true; this would be a challenge, but we could work together on the next phase of my career. That's when I told him that I wasn't just quitting this job, but his agency. There were a bunch of reasons; it felt weird to have that kind of working relationship with someone I'd slept with, I wanted to write and his agency was more set up for in front of the camera talent (and media where there was a camera!). Besides, I was going to be leaving California--
"Without telling your boyfriend?"
"Come on, Rick, we haven't been that in... I don't know if we were ever that. We were just convenient and safe; it was easier having someone we could talk to about everything. But you don't need that any more. You've... assimilated, I guess. You like the life you're in. I'm probably all that's keeping you from packing up shop and moving to Los Angeles to take it to the next level. And don't think I don't know about the pretty young things you've been seeing on the side."
"You could..."
"I don't want to! I don't want to live where I have a chance of running into the jerk calling himself Arthur Milligan on the street, let alone at work, even if I'll miss my home town. I don't want to spend years trying to fake knowledge of lacrosse or really concentrate on learning that, or just being a pretty face that reads sports scores. I want to research, and learn, and create."
"And you'll be doing that...?"
"Back in Boston. I've got a friend there, and know some in New York, and... Well, you may be content with what the Inn made you, and figure your time worrying about it is at an end, but I want to know more. I need to know more, and I'm going to have to be near it to do that."
It went downhill after that; I think in a while he'll accept that this is best, but that was pretty much like being fired for him, and nobody likes that.
I do think everyone should try quitting their job at least once in their life, though - the next two weeks can be some of the most enjoyable you can imagine, if you still get along with your co-workers, because none of the annoying crap touches you. You can really look at and think about what you're doing objectively.
And if you're in my position - which you're probably not - there is something quite liberating about selling everything you inherited from the person whose appearance you took. All the bulky exercise equipment, furniture, books, movies (I'm keeping some of the electronics) - gone. I'd sell the car, too, but I figured I'd wait and see how useful it is back in Boston before going that far. I've had Lyn scouting out apartments for me, and I've got a few job interviews lined up. It's going to be exciting.
I am tempted to stay here, but it's not what I want and really need right now. And it will be great to see Lyn regularly again, especially after not having seen her for a year.
-Art/Penny
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Arthur/Penny: If you think I'm providing a link, you're nuts.
I should have known this was going to happen, but I didn't. I've got half a mind to fire "Rick", quite honestly, even though he's got a small point when he says that he's only been working as an agent for less than a year and thus couldn't be expected to anticipate this. My initial instinct is to call bullshit, because he's sort of been anticipating this ever since we wound up in these lives, but I probably won't.
It just goes to show how ignorant I can be that I didn't have any idea what was going on until Tuesday. I had decided not to go to bed at all Monday night, since I was going to watch the A's game at 3am (7pm Tokyo time) and getting just three or four hours of sleep is pretty useless. I put in some late-night time on the treadmill before the game started, then got out the laptop so that I could do some re-writing and surfing done while mostly paying attention to the TV.
I wasn't surprised to see Lyn on at the same time. She IMed me first, asking if if I was up late or early. "Late," I typed. "You?"
"Early. Got a lunch shift. I probably wouldn't be up at all, but Matt's watching it at the station and wants to chat with me so it would like we're in the same room."
"Aw. That's sickening."
"Hey, someday you'll meet the right guy and you'll be doing stuff like that too."
"I don't know if I'm ever going to be that much of a girl."
"Hey, a year and a half ago, you couldn't imagine dressing up as a schoolgirl, but you make a damn hot cheerleader!"
I tensed up a little behind my keyboard, but typed that I chickened out.
"Liar! It's on YouTube." Link. Link. Link. Link.
I took a moment to follow the links Lyn sent me, becoming more mortified with each one, especially some of the comments on them. The fact that they appeared to have been typed by illiterates didn't do much to camouflage their crudity.
"Oh my god... I don't know what's worse, that these things exist or that you must have gone looking for them! Please tell me that your secret admirer sent them to you or something!"
"Hey, you can't expect a girl not to be curious after that cliffhanger. But come on, you pulled it off, you were classy. Those people would make comments like that if they found pictures of their mothers online!"
I found that less than reassuring, and changed the subject to stuff like Matt being "the right guy" or why she was still working at Headlights. And the game. I'm afraid I jinxed the A's during the ninth, saying I was about ready to go to bed just before the Red Sox tied it up. Lyn taunted me for that.
I was doing the scorecast the next night, and told George about these clips, saying I'd really appreciate it if the network could lean on Google to take the clips down - that was copyrighted CalSports footage, after all! He said he'd see what he could do. I wound up staying up all night at the studio - the weird hours for the games in Japan meant that instead of just shooting a bit that could be edited into the program for the morning repeats, we stayed up and watched the game, rewriting copy so that we'd be able to just shoot a new bit when the game finally ended at six.
It was a busy weekend - a Saturday game in Edmonton - so I didn't get a chance to see whether the videos were taken down. They were not, and it was almost like George forgot that I'd even wanted that. I came in yesterday to do a scorecast and he was giving me the good news about how ratings for the games were up 40% this weekend. The higher-ups at the network were really pleased, he said, and were probably going to talk to Rick about offering me a full-time contract.
I was a bit sarcastic, I think - something about whether or not they'd be reconfiguring the set so that the audience could see my belly button during the show, or whether cleavage would be enough. That raised some eyebrows, so George took me aside, saying that this was a good thing - maybe some of the people that tuned in to look at me would get into lacrosse, or I'd be able to work on more prominent assignments - this was a good thing!
I said I guess, if you just wanted to call games and read scores. I'd worn the outfit to call attention to the story, and it didn't sound like it was going to lead to more stories, which was what I really wanted to do. George said he could see my enthusiasm for it, but that's not the way it usually worked in television - they tend to do work with the local papers, and the promotion path goes toward more on-screen time.
I did the broadcast, but decided to go in to talk to Rick today. He said he was just about to call; Maxim had contacted him again about getting me for a pictorial. I pointed out that I'd said no the last time, and he said that the stuff on the internet seemed to indicate that I might have loosened up about that.
No, I said, I hadn't, and I would really like him to start talking me up for more creative/reporting work, because I don't know how much more I'm going to want to work for CalSports after my Stealth commitment is up. He says he thinks that would be a big mistake, and I said, yeah, maybe for Nell, but I'm not her, and I'd like to live something resembling my life as much as hers.
-Art/Penny
It just goes to show how ignorant I can be that I didn't have any idea what was going on until Tuesday. I had decided not to go to bed at all Monday night, since I was going to watch the A's game at 3am (7pm Tokyo time) and getting just three or four hours of sleep is pretty useless. I put in some late-night time on the treadmill before the game started, then got out the laptop so that I could do some re-writing and surfing done while mostly paying attention to the TV.
I wasn't surprised to see Lyn on at the same time. She IMed me first, asking if if I was up late or early. "Late," I typed. "You?"
"Early. Got a lunch shift. I probably wouldn't be up at all, but Matt's watching it at the station and wants to chat with me so it would like we're in the same room."
"Aw. That's sickening."
"Hey, someday you'll meet the right guy and you'll be doing stuff like that too."
"I don't know if I'm ever going to be that much of a girl."
"Hey, a year and a half ago, you couldn't imagine dressing up as a schoolgirl, but you make a damn hot cheerleader!"
I tensed up a little behind my keyboard, but typed that I chickened out.
"Liar! It's on YouTube." Link. Link. Link. Link.
I took a moment to follow the links Lyn sent me, becoming more mortified with each one, especially some of the comments on them. The fact that they appeared to have been typed by illiterates didn't do much to camouflage their crudity.
"Oh my god... I don't know what's worse, that these things exist or that you must have gone looking for them! Please tell me that your secret admirer sent them to you or something!"
"Hey, you can't expect a girl not to be curious after that cliffhanger. But come on, you pulled it off, you were classy. Those people would make comments like that if they found pictures of their mothers online!"
I found that less than reassuring, and changed the subject to stuff like Matt being "the right guy" or why she was still working at Headlights. And the game. I'm afraid I jinxed the A's during the ninth, saying I was about ready to go to bed just before the Red Sox tied it up. Lyn taunted me for that.
I was doing the scorecast the next night, and told George about these clips, saying I'd really appreciate it if the network could lean on Google to take the clips down - that was copyrighted CalSports footage, after all! He said he'd see what he could do. I wound up staying up all night at the studio - the weird hours for the games in Japan meant that instead of just shooting a bit that could be edited into the program for the morning repeats, we stayed up and watched the game, rewriting copy so that we'd be able to just shoot a new bit when the game finally ended at six.
It was a busy weekend - a Saturday game in Edmonton - so I didn't get a chance to see whether the videos were taken down. They were not, and it was almost like George forgot that I'd even wanted that. I came in yesterday to do a scorecast and he was giving me the good news about how ratings for the games were up 40% this weekend. The higher-ups at the network were really pleased, he said, and were probably going to talk to Rick about offering me a full-time contract.
I was a bit sarcastic, I think - something about whether or not they'd be reconfiguring the set so that the audience could see my belly button during the show, or whether cleavage would be enough. That raised some eyebrows, so George took me aside, saying that this was a good thing - maybe some of the people that tuned in to look at me would get into lacrosse, or I'd be able to work on more prominent assignments - this was a good thing!
I said I guess, if you just wanted to call games and read scores. I'd worn the outfit to call attention to the story, and it didn't sound like it was going to lead to more stories, which was what I really wanted to do. George said he could see my enthusiasm for it, but that's not the way it usually worked in television - they tend to do work with the local papers, and the promotion path goes toward more on-screen time.
I did the broadcast, but decided to go in to talk to Rick today. He said he was just about to call; Maxim had contacted him again about getting me for a pictorial. I pointed out that I'd said no the last time, and he said that the stuff on the internet seemed to indicate that I might have loosened up about that.
No, I said, I hadn't, and I would really like him to start talking me up for more creative/reporting work, because I don't know how much more I'm going to want to work for CalSports after my Stealth commitment is up. He says he thinks that would be a big mistake, and I said, yeah, maybe for Nell, but I'm not her, and I'd like to live something resembling my life as much as hers.
-Art/Penny
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Arthur: Penny
At least the Dragons' last game was a win. Sure, it wasn't a whole lot of fun to interview a team that's going home, as opposed to the championship weekend in Rochester, but I figure there's a non-trivial difference in attitude between a team that goes 3-9 and ends on a loss and one that goes 4-8 and ends on a win.
The whole thing made for a kind of strange Saturday evening afterward, doing a wrap party with the rest of the CalSports crew. After all, even though we travel with the team and sort of root for them during the broadcast, our success as broadcasters can be considered separately from that of the team on the field, and I guess we did alright by that regard.
Seems kind of unimportant, though. I got a letter from Penelope yesterday.
Well, not from "Penelope", but from "Jeremy Boyd".
The postmark and return address were from Nashville; not a place I'd necessarily be thrilled with settling down, but then again, there's no kid there who will call me Daddy (or Mommy, as the case may be).
I sat there kind of stunned, after reading it. I'm almost in the same position as 'Lyn after Stephen had told her he was keeping her old life, although I was pretty darn close - Nell had just given me her life, like the original Ashlyn had given Jake hers, and it certainly looked like Jeremy intended to keep mine.
After a few minutes, though, I wasn't just stunned any more - I was kind of jolted. I had to do something.
I went to the closet and pulled out the set of four-inch heels I'd initially thought were totally superfluous for a girl as tall as Nell. I did my make-up, combed out my hair, and painted my nails. I found a matching skirt and jacket in the closet and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on the blouse that went with it. Then I hit the road.
When I got to the Raiders' business offices, I didn't waste any time. I asked the receptionist where Arthur Milligan's office was and then walked there like I owned the place. She called him, of course; Nell's a bit recognizable, and it's not as if a member of the media coming to talk with one of the team's public relations people was odd, especially once the pre-season had started. I walked into the office and forcefully shut the door behind me.
It was kind of difficult to keep my exposed knees from knocking, or otherwise appearing nervous. That's why the shoes, and the power suit, and everything. Tall girls intimidate a lot of guys, and a woman who stands six-foot four in heels while he's sitting down? Should be enough to cancel out the jitters I was feeling. It was slight overkill, as it turns out. It's been almost a full year since the last time I looked in my own face, and it was weird, but also easier than I'd been expecting. A year of seeing other faces in the mirror, of knowing other people that this had happened to, of changing a second time... It's left me better able to accept that faces and lives can be exchanged, and that this guy with my name isn't me.
He looked up at me with a smirk. "What took you so long?"
I crossed my arms. "If I'd come earlier, I might have wound up playing your game. I might have actually slept with you because you had something I wanted badly. I might actually have thought that by giving you something that Nell wouldn't, you'd have actually given me my life back. Because that's how it was going to go, wasn't it? And I might have been desperate enough to go for it, even though the end result would have been you snickering about how completely you'd taken my life and manhood."
"And you came here just to tell me that?"
"No." I slapped a copy of Nell's letter down on his desk in front of him, spinning it to face him under a manicured fingernail. "I came to tell you to read this. I came here to make sure you know that the woman you tricked into dealing with your shit knows more about being a man than you ever did."
I leaned forward, letting him get a whiff of perfume and lining up those open buttons up with his eyes so that he had the choice of looking me in the eye or looking at my cleavage. He didn't disappoint. "Oh, and Germy?" He looked up, just a few inches away from my face. I came in a little closer, to whisper in his ear. "No matter what that Inn does to my body, what clothes I wear, and who I fuck... Which will never, ever be you... I'm still more of a man than you're likely to ever be."
And I left, driving from the parking lot straight to the CalSports studios. I was on last night, after all.
The show went well, although people watching it may have noticed me slightly stammering at the end: "That's the Ten O'Clock Report. For all of us here at CalSports, I'm...I'm Penny Lincoln. Good night."
George caught it, at least. "I thought you hated being called 'Penny'?"
It actually felt a little good to hear him say that. "I'm trying something new," I said. "It's time."
-Art/"Penny"
The whole thing made for a kind of strange Saturday evening afterward, doing a wrap party with the rest of the CalSports crew. After all, even though we travel with the team and sort of root for them during the broadcast, our success as broadcasters can be considered separately from that of the team on the field, and I guess we did alright by that regard.
Seems kind of unimportant, though. I got a letter from Penelope yesterday.
Well, not from "Penelope", but from "Jeremy Boyd".
Dear Nell,
It seems strange to write those two words like that, but I'm not sure what else to call you. I hope you are well, and not finding my life too much of a drag. I would have written sooner, but as you might imagine, things were strange. Still are, I guess, but they're a type of strange I can deal with.
When R.J. and I woke up as Jeremy Boyd and Stephen Jeffries, we were both kind of in trouble. Between the time the inn closed down for the winter and when we changed, there were nearly eight months where these people simply fell off the map. Stephen, as a corporate VP who enjoyed a bit of a lavish lifestyle, managed to run up bills even while absent that took a bit of sorting out, and was actually named in a lawsuit that R.J. says is groundless, but managed to gain traction by the very fact of his absence.
For me, the situation was a little more cut and dried: Jeremy Boyd's leave ended something like a week after he changed into Arthur Milligan, so when I awoke in his body, I was facing a desertion charge. Fortunately, the Army is practical about such matters; they figure that there isn't a lot to be gained from chasing, court-martialling, and then imprisoning people who just walk away. They don't make a big deal about it, because otherwise, especially in times like today, they might lose enough people that they'd have to start doing something about it. But if you turn yourself in, you wind up with a couple of weeks in the stockade and then a dishonorable discharge, which was just about the best case scenario. I don't think I'd have backed down if the Army had decided to ship me out, but I know I wouldn't have had the necessary skills to survive very long.
I wound up back in Jeremy's hometown, still weirded out by my body, feeling vaguely ashamed even though I hadn't abandoned anything. I was set to buy a bus ticket west to confront you and "Arthur" - and I mean, not even letting my bags leave the station - but Jeremy's father met me there, gave me a serious look, and said that I should go see Daisy.
Diasy Wright had been something less than Jeremy's girlfriend; really, just someone he knew form high school that he slept with between others. The last time was just before he left for the Trading Post Inn; this time she got pregnant.
Jeremy's son - my son... He's beautiful. You can probably tell from looking in my stuff that I was never a huge girly-girl, but I've always liked kids (I used to love doing summer camps and speeches at schools). It was a difficult pregnancy for Daisy, and she doesn't have much money to begin with...
What can I say, the kid needs a dad, and I'm pretty damn certain I can do a better job than the person who actually fathered him.
So I'm Jeremy Boyd now. I've always liked a challenge, and being a better Jeremy than the man who was born to it seems like it will be a great one. I'll miss my old life, but you seem to be doing okay with it, if what I read on the internet about getting anchor work is true.
Enjoy being Penelope... Or at least find someone who will should you decide to go back to the inn.
Sincerely,
"Jeremy"
The postmark and return address were from Nashville; not a place I'd necessarily be thrilled with settling down, but then again, there's no kid there who will call me Daddy (or Mommy, as the case may be).
I sat there kind of stunned, after reading it. I'm almost in the same position as 'Lyn after Stephen had told her he was keeping her old life, although I was pretty darn close - Nell had just given me her life, like the original Ashlyn had given Jake hers, and it certainly looked like Jeremy intended to keep mine.
After a few minutes, though, I wasn't just stunned any more - I was kind of jolted. I had to do something.
I went to the closet and pulled out the set of four-inch heels I'd initially thought were totally superfluous for a girl as tall as Nell. I did my make-up, combed out my hair, and painted my nails. I found a matching skirt and jacket in the closet and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on the blouse that went with it. Then I hit the road.
When I got to the Raiders' business offices, I didn't waste any time. I asked the receptionist where Arthur Milligan's office was and then walked there like I owned the place. She called him, of course; Nell's a bit recognizable, and it's not as if a member of the media coming to talk with one of the team's public relations people was odd, especially once the pre-season had started. I walked into the office and forcefully shut the door behind me.
It was kind of difficult to keep my exposed knees from knocking, or otherwise appearing nervous. That's why the shoes, and the power suit, and everything. Tall girls intimidate a lot of guys, and a woman who stands six-foot four in heels while he's sitting down? Should be enough to cancel out the jitters I was feeling. It was slight overkill, as it turns out. It's been almost a full year since the last time I looked in my own face, and it was weird, but also easier than I'd been expecting. A year of seeing other faces in the mirror, of knowing other people that this had happened to, of changing a second time... It's left me better able to accept that faces and lives can be exchanged, and that this guy with my name isn't me.
He looked up at me with a smirk. "What took you so long?"
I crossed my arms. "If I'd come earlier, I might have wound up playing your game. I might have actually slept with you because you had something I wanted badly. I might actually have thought that by giving you something that Nell wouldn't, you'd have actually given me my life back. Because that's how it was going to go, wasn't it? And I might have been desperate enough to go for it, even though the end result would have been you snickering about how completely you'd taken my life and manhood."
"And you came here just to tell me that?"
"No." I slapped a copy of Nell's letter down on his desk in front of him, spinning it to face him under a manicured fingernail. "I came to tell you to read this. I came here to make sure you know that the woman you tricked into dealing with your shit knows more about being a man than you ever did."
I leaned forward, letting him get a whiff of perfume and lining up those open buttons up with his eyes so that he had the choice of looking me in the eye or looking at my cleavage. He didn't disappoint. "Oh, and Germy?" He looked up, just a few inches away from my face. I came in a little closer, to whisper in his ear. "No matter what that Inn does to my body, what clothes I wear, and who I fuck... Which will never, ever be you... I'm still more of a man than you're likely to ever be."
And I left, driving from the parking lot straight to the CalSports studios. I was on last night, after all.
The show went well, although people watching it may have noticed me slightly stammering at the end: "That's the Ten O'Clock Report. For all of us here at CalSports, I'm...I'm Penny Lincoln. Good night."
George caught it, at least. "I thought you hated being called 'Penny'?"
It actually felt a little good to hear him say that. "I'm trying something new," I said. "It's time."
-Art/"Penny"
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Arthur: At least there's only one more week of calling losses
Writing a novel looks kind of easy. You figure out what you want to write about, come up with an outline, and then just do it. Especially when, as I'm trying to do, it's about your current line of work; there's not quite so much research to do. There's still plenty, though - a murder mystery has to be absolutely flawless in its details, or the fans will absolutely crucify you.
So, I've been spending a lot of my free time lately doing research, and feeling like I should be doing more; it seems like each new thing I discover about sports, broadcasting, crime, or any of the other things in the book makes me rewrite . I'm starting to think that if this book winds up three hundred pages long, I'll have written something like fifteen hundred, which is daunting.
Spare time is not something I've had a whole lot of lately, though. I'm doing anchor duty two nights a week, which means being around all evening for cut-ins, and working on writing my material. As much as the novel isn't my forte, apparently neither is voiceover work. George says otherwise, which is nice of him, but I don't know if the way I announce the scores and recap that no, Barry Bonds didn't hit a home run tonight is really noticeably different than what some other guy does.
The other thing is that the last couple of weeks have been away games - L.A. two weeks ago, Chicago last weekend. It was cool to go back to L.A.; I got to see Cassie again. She at least seems really excited by the book, begging to let her proofread it or something. I told her I would, and she thanked me, saying that if I got it published, it would be just about the coolest thing anyone she knows has ever done. Drew kind of gave me an eyebrow after that, since this wouldn't really be something done by someone Cassie knows, although when Cassie caught it, he said that hosting the show was pretty cool, too, wasn't it?
Drew does like coming down to L.A., though. I think he's kind of star-struck by it, having grown up in Michigan, which I'm sure is nice, don't get me wrong... But you come to San Francisco and Los Angeles, and you see things that you remember from movies and TV practically every time you turn a corner. Sometimes you'll see a movie star eating in a restaurant a few seats away, and it's like it's no big deal. He's spending about half the week there, right now, signing a few would-be actors and models to beef up R.J.'s roster.
Cassie teased me about that, but I told her I was cool with it. I was tempted to make a joke about not being used to having one guy doting on me all the time, based on Ray and Stewart, but I figured there was a good chance of her finding that really inappropriate based upon something in Nell's past.
I don't think I'd be too terribly upset if he found some new girl down in L.A., though. I get the feeling that Drew is becoming less and less interested in returning to his "real" life, so if he wants to settle into something, I guess I wouldn't blame him. Do I enjoy going out (and then going back in) with him? Yeah, we have fun, and there's no lying to it. But I won't even begin to kid myself that we're in love, or that I'm looking for anything permanent so long as I look like Nell.
-Art
So, I've been spending a lot of my free time lately doing research, and feeling like I should be doing more; it seems like each new thing I discover about sports, broadcasting, crime, or any of the other things in the book makes me rewrite . I'm starting to think that if this book winds up three hundred pages long, I'll have written something like fifteen hundred, which is daunting.
Spare time is not something I've had a whole lot of lately, though. I'm doing anchor duty two nights a week, which means being around all evening for cut-ins, and working on writing my material. As much as the novel isn't my forte, apparently neither is voiceover work. George says otherwise, which is nice of him, but I don't know if the way I announce the scores and recap that no, Barry Bonds didn't hit a home run tonight is really noticeably different than what some other guy does.
The other thing is that the last couple of weeks have been away games - L.A. two weeks ago, Chicago last weekend. It was cool to go back to L.A.; I got to see Cassie again. She at least seems really excited by the book, begging to let her proofread it or something. I told her I would, and she thanked me, saying that if I got it published, it would be just about the coolest thing anyone she knows has ever done. Drew kind of gave me an eyebrow after that, since this wouldn't really be something done by someone Cassie knows, although when Cassie caught it, he said that hosting the show was pretty cool, too, wasn't it?
Drew does like coming down to L.A., though. I think he's kind of star-struck by it, having grown up in Michigan, which I'm sure is nice, don't get me wrong... But you come to San Francisco and Los Angeles, and you see things that you remember from movies and TV practically every time you turn a corner. Sometimes you'll see a movie star eating in a restaurant a few seats away, and it's like it's no big deal. He's spending about half the week there, right now, signing a few would-be actors and models to beef up R.J.'s roster.
Cassie teased me about that, but I told her I was cool with it. I was tempted to make a joke about not being used to having one guy doting on me all the time, based on Ray and Stewart, but I figured there was a good chance of her finding that really inappropriate based upon something in Nell's past.
I don't think I'd be too terribly upset if he found some new girl down in L.A., though. I get the feeling that Drew is becoming less and less interested in returning to his "real" life, so if he wants to settle into something, I guess I wouldn't blame him. Do I enjoy going out (and then going back in) with him? Yeah, we have fun, and there's no lying to it. But I won't even begin to kid myself that we're in love, or that I'm looking for anything permanent so long as I look like Nell.
-Art
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Arthur: Weekend plans
It looks like I"m starting to get a little extra work from CalSports. Drew is trying to take credit for it, and I've got no doubt that he made sure I got the best terms I could, but there are probably three factors that loom larger than his "mad negotiatin' skillz" to explain why I'm not heading straight back west after the Dragons' latest loss, this time to Philadelphia.
Whatever the reasons, I'm doing it, picking up an extra couple hundred bucks to spend a kind of damp weekend back in Boston. I'm a little disappointed that I missed the Fourth, as I've heard they make a really big deal of it in Boston (and probably Philadelphia, too, for that matter). They're going to be keeping me pretty busy, but that's probably a good thing. I don't see myself getting sentimental about my time living Liz's life, but I do admit to feeling an odd impulse to check in on her and Ray. I'm suppressing it, though - I don't want her to feel bad about me not being me, and what does Penelope Lincoln have to say to Raymond Kim?
I'll try to take the time to see Lyn, although it would be just my luck if she's got a shift at Headlights when I'm free Saturday and Sunday nights. Of course, if she's willing to stay up late, I'm game - after all, there's no point in re-acclimating to Eastern Daylight Time for a three day trip. Heck, it's not quite midnight for me posting this right now.
Well, there's the tendency of Boston to shut down well before midnight, but other than that...
-Art
Whatever the reasons, I'm doing it, picking up an extra couple hundred bucks to spend a kind of damp weekend back in Boston. I'm a little disappointed that I missed the Fourth, as I've heard they make a really big deal of it in Boston (and probably Philadelphia, too, for that matter). They're going to be keeping me pretty busy, but that's probably a good thing. I don't see myself getting sentimental about my time living Liz's life, but I do admit to feeling an odd impulse to check in on her and Ray. I'm suppressing it, though - I don't want her to feel bad about me not being me, and what does Penelope Lincoln have to say to Raymond Kim?
I'll try to take the time to see Lyn, although it would be just my luck if she's got a shift at Headlights when I'm free Saturday and Sunday nights. Of course, if she's willing to stay up late, I'm game - after all, there's no point in re-acclimating to Eastern Daylight Time for a three day trip. Heck, it's not quite midnight for me posting this right now.
Well, there's the tendency of Boston to shut down well before midnight, but other than that...
-Art
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Arthur: Learning
My entries aren't just going to be a running log of my experiences doing play-by-play for the Dragons, but this weekend was new in that it was my first away game. My first game was at home; my second would be in Chicago. Not only had I never been there before, but I'm not used to this kind of travel.
I'd done some business travel back when I was myself, but it was seldom this regimented - if I could, I'd allow myself some time to see the sights or otherwise spend some quality time. I was a freelancer, after all, and you can write anywhere.
This weekend, I barely noticed I was in Chicago. We did a lot of the groundwork at the Friday planning meeting at home, making sure we were up to speed on Chicago's players and a roster move that the Dragons had made. I was a bit of a target; Mike all but said I was unprofessional and unqualified. He's probably right about the second, although I don't know if I'd go with the first. I've been spending practically all my waking hours over the past two weeks trying to improve my skills as a broadcaster, and I don't think I ever coasted. George was pretty diplomatic in handling it, pointing out that Mike hadn't been particularly sharp in his first game and he hadn't had a lingering illness to deal with, but also being pretty pointed about how that had to be behind me.
Saturday was a blur; there was the airport, hours spent flying to Chicago (and lost from flying East), and hotel check-in. By the time I'd hung my garment bag in the closet, it was already six-thirty. I had a quick meal at the hotel restaurant and then retired back to my room, watching a couple of Nell's old games on a portable DVD player before heading for bed.
Sunday I was up early to check out and catch a train out to Lancaster, where the team was actually playing. Even though the game started a one o'clock local time, we had to be there hours earlier, doing last minute prep, doing our makeup (if we were covering baseball or football, there would probably be hair and makeup people on staff; I was on my own), shooting coach and player interviews to insert into the broadcast later, talking with the person doing the local sports report back home.
I did better on the actual play-by-play this week. I'm helped a little by the fact that men's and women's lacrosse are somewhat different, so Mike is the one supplying most of the actual analysis. I tried to look at it like I was trying to keep someone updated over the phone without saying something that is too obvious to anyone looking at the screen and giving Mike a chance to chime in. Then, at the end of the game, I ran down to the locker room to do a couple stand-up interviews. I drove George and the cameraman nuts because I tended to position myself wrong, and wound up facing the player while the camera got a good shot of my back.
Then it was back upstairs to pack my things up and head back to the airport. Mike gave me the cold shoulder, and I half suspect he moved my stuff so that I wouldn't be finished in time to share a cab with him. I don't know why he was in such a rush; it's not as though he was going to get on an earlier flight and avoid me.
I hope like hell that Nell never slept with him. I only mixed business and pleasure like that once or twice in my old life, so it doesn't seem like something I need to be karmically punished for over and over again.
If she did, though, it seems to just be part of the problem. George caught up with me in the airport bar and sat down beside me for a talk.
"That was better," he said. "You still seem to be having a little trouble shaking the rust off, though."
"What can I say? I had one of those vacations that you need another one to recover from."
He laughed and took a sip of his beer. "Been too long since I've had one of those. Anyway, you were pretty solid this week--" I snorted. "What?"
"'Solid' means 'unpraiseworthy', 'average', or 'undistinguished'. It's what you say about forgettable work." Nearly every polite rejection letter or review that stopped short of actual praise that I'd ever received included the word.
"See, that's why I like working with people like you. It's not about being 'good enough', but being the best. It can make you a pain in the neck, but usually pays off. Anyway, any faults with your game-calling are made up for by my magnificent direction." He barely contained a goofy grin as he said it, so we waited a couple seconds and burst out laughing.
"No, seriously, you're OK, and you'll get better. It would be great if you and Mike could work on your chemistry, though. Both games have been fairly close, but chemistry is what keeps people tuned in to a blowout."
"I'll try. It's just--" I stopped; it seemed wildly inappropriate for me to complain or try to gossip about Mike.
George knew what I was thinking, though. "Don't worry about Mike. He and Al hit it off right away when we first teamed them a couple years ago, so he kind of resents you even though Al's the one that took the radio job in L.A. He'll get over it."
"Ah." Good to know.
"Besides, the guys above me like you. Our ratings for the Stealth jumped fifteen percent this winter, you know, and I don't think there was a sudden influx of new fans of the sport. Maybe Mike just doesn't like that a woman in the booth gets more ink just for being a woman than he gets."
"Glad I can help."
"We do thank you for it." He just sort of looked at me for a couple seconds, then did the too-quick grab for his beer meant to camouflage that a guy thinks a girl is attractive but doesn't think he should say it but which only highlights it. It sloshed a little, and I felt the need to take a quick drink too, so he didn't look or feel silly (of course, that probably just signaled that I'd noticed and made him feel worse).
"Anyway, we're getting good feedback about you. They might want you on-camera more."
"That's... great." I suppose that's what Nell has been working toward. I guess it's good to know she was getting there.
They call our flight, and we separate. Then it was back to San Francisco, and another week of trying to catch up before another game.
-Art
I'd done some business travel back when I was myself, but it was seldom this regimented - if I could, I'd allow myself some time to see the sights or otherwise spend some quality time. I was a freelancer, after all, and you can write anywhere.
This weekend, I barely noticed I was in Chicago. We did a lot of the groundwork at the Friday planning meeting at home, making sure we were up to speed on Chicago's players and a roster move that the Dragons had made. I was a bit of a target; Mike all but said I was unprofessional and unqualified. He's probably right about the second, although I don't know if I'd go with the first. I've been spending practically all my waking hours over the past two weeks trying to improve my skills as a broadcaster, and I don't think I ever coasted. George was pretty diplomatic in handling it, pointing out that Mike hadn't been particularly sharp in his first game and he hadn't had a lingering illness to deal with, but also being pretty pointed about how that had to be behind me.
Saturday was a blur; there was the airport, hours spent flying to Chicago (and lost from flying East), and hotel check-in. By the time I'd hung my garment bag in the closet, it was already six-thirty. I had a quick meal at the hotel restaurant and then retired back to my room, watching a couple of Nell's old games on a portable DVD player before heading for bed.
Sunday I was up early to check out and catch a train out to Lancaster, where the team was actually playing. Even though the game started a one o'clock local time, we had to be there hours earlier, doing last minute prep, doing our makeup (if we were covering baseball or football, there would probably be hair and makeup people on staff; I was on my own), shooting coach and player interviews to insert into the broadcast later, talking with the person doing the local sports report back home.
I did better on the actual play-by-play this week. I'm helped a little by the fact that men's and women's lacrosse are somewhat different, so Mike is the one supplying most of the actual analysis. I tried to look at it like I was trying to keep someone updated over the phone without saying something that is too obvious to anyone looking at the screen and giving Mike a chance to chime in. Then, at the end of the game, I ran down to the locker room to do a couple stand-up interviews. I drove George and the cameraman nuts because I tended to position myself wrong, and wound up facing the player while the camera got a good shot of my back.
Then it was back upstairs to pack my things up and head back to the airport. Mike gave me the cold shoulder, and I half suspect he moved my stuff so that I wouldn't be finished in time to share a cab with him. I don't know why he was in such a rush; it's not as though he was going to get on an earlier flight and avoid me.
I hope like hell that Nell never slept with him. I only mixed business and pleasure like that once or twice in my old life, so it doesn't seem like something I need to be karmically punished for over and over again.
If she did, though, it seems to just be part of the problem. George caught up with me in the airport bar and sat down beside me for a talk.
"That was better," he said. "You still seem to be having a little trouble shaking the rust off, though."
"What can I say? I had one of those vacations that you need another one to recover from."
He laughed and took a sip of his beer. "Been too long since I've had one of those. Anyway, you were pretty solid this week--" I snorted. "What?"
"'Solid' means 'unpraiseworthy', 'average', or 'undistinguished'. It's what you say about forgettable work." Nearly every polite rejection letter or review that stopped short of actual praise that I'd ever received included the word.
"See, that's why I like working with people like you. It's not about being 'good enough', but being the best. It can make you a pain in the neck, but usually pays off. Anyway, any faults with your game-calling are made up for by my magnificent direction." He barely contained a goofy grin as he said it, so we waited a couple seconds and burst out laughing.
"No, seriously, you're OK, and you'll get better. It would be great if you and Mike could work on your chemistry, though. Both games have been fairly close, but chemistry is what keeps people tuned in to a blowout."
"I'll try. It's just--" I stopped; it seemed wildly inappropriate for me to complain or try to gossip about Mike.
George knew what I was thinking, though. "Don't worry about Mike. He and Al hit it off right away when we first teamed them a couple years ago, so he kind of resents you even though Al's the one that took the radio job in L.A. He'll get over it."
"Ah." Good to know.
"Besides, the guys above me like you. Our ratings for the Stealth jumped fifteen percent this winter, you know, and I don't think there was a sudden influx of new fans of the sport. Maybe Mike just doesn't like that a woman in the booth gets more ink just for being a woman than he gets."
"Glad I can help."
"We do thank you for it." He just sort of looked at me for a couple seconds, then did the too-quick grab for his beer meant to camouflage that a guy thinks a girl is attractive but doesn't think he should say it but which only highlights it. It sloshed a little, and I felt the need to take a quick drink too, so he didn't look or feel silly (of course, that probably just signaled that I'd noticed and made him feel worse).
"Anyway, we're getting good feedback about you. They might want you on-camera more."
"That's... great." I suppose that's what Nell has been working toward. I guess it's good to know she was getting there.
They call our flight, and we separate. Then it was back to San Francisco, and another week of trying to catch up before another game.
-Art
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