Todd/Anne-Marie: Still no change, but......

Okay. Where to start. I want to avoid the cliche, as much as I want to let the music journalist in me out, by eulogizing Michael Jackson. Bry had a fleeting reference to him in his entry. Here in Maine, like probably everywhere, it was on everyone's lips that night and over the weekend so far. As much as I respected the man and his music, and as much as we were all privately fascinated/freaked out by his personal life... that's not what this blog is about.

A couple days ago, we actually had some sunshine in the morning, and Bry and I lay on the beach in swimsuits, something we thought we'd be doing a lot more of. That's where we had the bulk of the conversation Bry was talking about. For the most part, I agree with her... it was a huge, horrible thing that we're probably better for having survived (if we do indeed survive and return.) I don't know how easy it will be to get back into my life, but considering my life was chaos before I became a housewife, I think I should be able to adjust.

One major part of the conversation though, was that I felt like I'd matured a whole lot. That it was a shame when we'd go back to Toronto, I'd have to restart all the progress I'd made winning Alia back, even possibly settling down with her, if she'd have me, because I feel like I'm ready... but that there was really no way to explain it all to her, what the last year has been like for me. I want to go back to being Todd Casey, but I also want to change, I guess, what it means to be Todd Casey... as much as Deb's probably already done that.

Bry scoffed at that, finding it hard to believe that after all I'd seen and done I would want to come back and settle down, that the entire experience hadn't scared any desire for marriage out of me forever. But it's the truth. It kind of... acclimated me. Being Anne-Marie wasn't just about being a woman for me, it was about being with someone (even someone I didn't really care about) and not... doing some of the dubious shit I used to do with Alia and other women. I'll leave it up to your imagination.

The idea of reforming myself a bit, of coming back to Alia and making the most of my life, was sort of my "happy thought" whenever I'd get bummed out about my state of affairs as Anne-Marie (which was often enough. Lord knows her name came up often enough in this blog.)

Well not long into the afternoon it started to get cloudy again, bloody hell, so we headed back inside, got properly dressed, and went out to lunch. When we got back, in the middle of yet another summer shower, I saw one of the most horrifying things I've seen since becoming Anne-Marie. Maybe one of the most bone-chilling sights I've seen in my entire life.

Alia's car. In the driveway of the fucking Trading Post Inn.

George himself was helping her with her bags. What the fuck.

Bryan didn't see her, but I walked by her. I don't know what my expression looking like, but her face... she looked seriously weirded out by however I looked at her. I haven't seen her in well over a year. She's still gorgeous. And she's here. Oh God. I'm fucked. This whole thing is fucked.

I can't let this happen to her. I can't let her go through this. I've got to tell her to leave this place, to get away. But if I do that, the transformation won't happen (as is my understanding) and this whole thing is for nothing. FUCK!!

A week from now, maybe even tomorrow, she'll be transformed into someone else. Could be an old man, could be a mother or a little boy or some shit. And she'll see me, and I'll have to explain everything to her and try to convince her I wasn't the guy she's known this past year, and tell her it'll be okay as long as she comes back... but what if she's one of those people who can't get their body back?! What if the girl I love ends up as one of those people who has to grow up all over again?!

This whole thing is fucked up. Oh God. What am I gonna say? What am I gonna do?

And I thought it was hard getting to sleep before.... fuck my life.

-Todd

Todd/Anne-Marie: The Future of the Blog

I guess I'm kind of stuck. I thought I'd do more writing here, but all Bry and I have done is sit around inside because the weather has been raining pretty much nonstop since we got here. I swear it was nice last year... but if this is what Maine is like, why the hell does anyone ever vacation here? Especially given the likelihood of mysterious body-transformations. But I guess the word's still not out about that.

There are a few people milling around, but not surprisingly the Inn isn't at "Change everyone's body" capacity, which from what I can tell is 13. I would guess there's maybe 7 people here including Bryan and me, as well as our new friends George and Jan, another random couple, and one other guy I saw once but not since. I'm thinking it'll probably hit 13 on the weekend. That makes sense, right?

So Sunday night, George and Jan, I guess as fellow Inn-survivors, offered us a dinner at a place they like. It was a very nice gesture, although I can't help but think that if I looked like a man maybe George wouldn't have offered to pay.

As I mentioned on Day one, George is, from his appearance, a middle-aged Asian guy who dresses like a truck driver. His wife Jan is a younger Caucasian lady, maybe about my Anne-Marie age. Has kind of a midwestern look to her. The first thing I asked, as we headed out, was what they'd been before.

George paused, awkwardly, and said it was a long story, and they'd explain over dinner.

We got to the restaurant, one of the nicest restaurants I've been in (and as Anne-Marie I've been to a couple.) George and Jan had worn fairly nice clothes; I was wearing a black skirt and white blouse, and Bry was a bit underdressed because she hadn't really packed for this kind of thing. I ordered a steak and salad, Bry some pasta - George and Jan ordered lobster.

Now, I don't mean to judge, but it seemed like George and Jan were pretty blue-collar people. When I first saw him he had a Texas belt-buckle and worn-out jeans. He told me normally he was, but on times like these, he liked to treat himself - "Spend some money like there's no tomorrow." Then he gave a knowing smile. So I asked again where exactly George and Jan had come from.

George got this faraway look in his eyes as he told the story. Back in 1991, he and Jan were preparing to move to a retirement community down in Florida, but in the interim, they decided to come spend some time in Maine, where Jan had grown up. They were in their late 60's -- George had fought in Germany in WWII. And so one morning, they woke up, and they were... young. They were still man and wife, but suddenly George was the wife.

In time, as all of us do, they came to understand the nature of the Inn, but that didn't make them pleased about it. The first year was apparently very hard for them. So they did the fairly sensible thing; they went back to the Inn.

The only problem was, there wasn't exactly a ton of telecommunication going on back in the early 90's, and George and Jan wouldn't have been predisposed to it if there had. So they just went back, thinking maybe they would become themselves again. This time, they were father and son.

"Blacks, for what it's worth," she chuckled.

It became apparent to them that they would never be themselves again. They became consumed, I guess, by remorse for the fact that they were now young and able, and they had left their elderly bodies with some other undeserving victims they never knew. So they vowed to keep coming back, year after year - sometimes they've had to skip, but basically, for the past 17 years they've kept returning and getting new bodies, and helping fellow victims understand what has happened to them.

"Doesn't that get exhausting?" asked Bryan. "Don't you get tired of starting over?"

Jan smiled. "There's an old saying, you know. The number one killer of people our age is retirement. All this body-changing can be a tad much, but it keeps our minds sharp."

"And we had an agreement," George added, "First off, we try to get these people back in their proper place. Second, we know we can't always be together, in the same place or even the same marital bed, but we do our best to stay close. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. Lastly, if we ever found ourselves in bodies close to our own age, we'd keep 'em."

"But so far," Jan laughed self-deprecatingly, "That no good Inn keeps keeping us young and able."

I was pretty fascinated. It was kind of an inspiring story. I didn't want to broach the likelihood that their original bodies are possibly dead, but they must have some really fascinating stories. They've been practically everything, between the two of them. young, old, different races and genders... they've gotten the kind of life tour most people could never imagine.

"It ain't an easy life," George admitted, "Knowing you're living with a timer, but hey, aren't we all?" By this point we were well into the meal. "I like to think of it as a service. Imagine how much easier things would be for people if they had someone there to tell 'em what's going on."

I thought back to that first day and how quickly Bryan interpolated the entire thing. I don't think that anything close to the norm. I said we'd be glad to help.

So I told them about ourselves, how we've been living these lives for a year, who we were originally. I tried not to make myself sound so pathetic in my previous life, or like I was taking advantage of this one. That I was quite close with Anne-Marie.

"I hope you got some good experience out of it," George said, obviously speaking from experience, "And I'm glad you're going back. I do hope it works out well for you two."

"George knows from experience that womanhood isn't exactly a cakewalk." Jan nudged him, he blushed and said "Nothing is, dear. But it has its finer parts."

Well, that just created an awkward silence. But anyway.

So I told them about the blog, how I'd been writing my experiences down, as had others, and they were most welcome to join on, given their ongoing experience. They declined.

"Don't get me wrong, I know how to do the e-mail and the websites, but I'm not one for going on about myself. I'll have a look, now and again, and maybe I'll drop you a line, but that's not really my thing."

I understand.

But it got me to thinking. In a few days, with any luck, I'll be good old Todd Casey again, and then... my life might not be so interesting to the readers here. And while I hate to admit it, everyone's probably noticed by now that my fellow Inn-mates Penny, Ashlyn, Brandon/Laura, Darren/Jaime and whomever else, have all gone off into the wild blue. This Inn is gonna need some fresh blood. if anyone out there reading this has ever been to the Inn... I'd ask you to drop me a line, but honestly I don't have the password to that e-mail up there, and I'm not very keen on handing out my personal e-mail here, so... I'll figure something out.

So yesterday, I made up some fake flyers at a Kinko's advertising an "Online Guestbook" for the inn, and slipped a few under each door, a trick Art used back in the day. It doesn't exactly explain why people should log onto this blog and detail their experiences, but I'm guessing they'll understand why when the time comes. I also left some in the lobby for the future.

So... here's to the future. I guess.

-Todd/Anne-Marie

Todd/Anne-Marie: The Ghosts of Room 5

Even though I knew there would be no transformation last night, I found it hard to sleep. Part of my deep down kept expecting something awful to happen in the middle of the night. This old building has kind of a haunted feel to it... and knowing what I know doesn't help when it creaks and groans in the night. I keep jumping at shadows.

In the daylight, I saw there were plenty more cars here than people, but I also noticed a few new faces just settling in. The inn's capacity is about 13, so it needs that many to transform us, if what I believe I know is true. So a few more randoms doesn't really indicate the change is imminent, so I guess it's more restless nights. In case you're wondering, there are a few different configurations of rooms... some with two twin beds, some with a double, some with one twin. Some rooms adjoin.

Soft rains made Bry and I stay in most of the day, trying to keep ourselves entertained. It was dreadful. This really isn't beach weather, so we stayed inside. Napping. At least I was napping. I couldn't tell you what Bryan was doing but when I woke up she definitely seemed to be up to something. Polite not to speculate.

I spent a fair bit of time this afternoon just... staring at my reflection, as I have a habit of doing. If I were writing a fiction about people who get transformed, I'd probably rely a lot on mirror references. I'm not going to have this face much longer, I'm not going to be this woman, or any woman. I feel as though I should make the most of my time remaining, but I have absolutely no idea what that would actually entail.

I feel like I should be trying to sum up this whole experience, what it's taught me about the world and myself, but I guess I'm going through a bit of writer's block... I keep trying to engage Bry in conversation about it but she's not interested. Maybe she'll warm up a bit after the change, if it happens, or perhaps before then.

George and Jan invited us to dinner for tomorrow night so I believe I'll have more to say about them then.

Sorry for the less-than-exciting post.

-Todd/Anne-Marie

Todd/Anne-Marie: All my bags are packed, I'm read to go...

Yeah, I realize that song is lame, but how appropriate right?

Day One of Maine 2009 was... surprising. In a lot of ways.

I wanted to swing by Donna's place, to have some final words with her before I left. For once, she wasn't around. I have no idea where she might've been, or what I would've said to her. Chances are she would've just said something to piss me off anyway. I still don't know who she was or whether I'm going to go back to Connecticut after this trip to find out more about her.

But what I really wanted to say was how grateful I was that she had been... a friend, sort of, or whatever. It's been nice having her to talk to these past few weeks, no matter how much she gets on my nerves. No she's not the best friend I ever had, but knowing there was someone, other than Bryan, who had some idea what was going on, even given her different attitude about it... has been comforting. So in that weird way I'll miss her. I'll miss a lot of things, but I'm going to try to get on with my life. Once I get back to it.

I also saw Anne-Marie, and she wished me luck. That was an interesting scene but not really an important one.

I was really worried about going by Bryan's place and picking her up around 4:00, especially since Trudy was there. While I was helping her load her bags into the back of Anne-Marie's SUV, Trudy took me aside. It was tense.

"So you're really going, huh?"

"That's what we agreed on."

She looks at me like We didn't agree on anything but didn't say it. She went on, "I don't know why you're so fixated on this, but I want... I want what's best for Ellie. You... take care, okay?" And she gave me this look - disapproving, but accepting in a way.

All I could do was smile and pat her on the shoulder - kind of a masculine gesture - and say "Trust me. When she gets back from Maine, Ellie will be a lot better." She didn't believe me, but I guess she'd made her peace with it. Bryan climbed into the passenger's side.

"We ready?"

"Rock and roll."

Trudy gave off some motherly "Be safe" slogans as she leaned in the window and kissed her on the cheek. Bry gave a very authentic-sounding goodbye as I drove away.

I didn't even have the radio on. There was silence as I began to drive away from town. Bry was uncharacteristically reflective.

"We've been through a lot this year."

She scoffed, "Tch. I'll say." Just stared out the window at the passing houses.

"You gonna miss it?"

"Like what?"

"The house. The family. The life."

"The periods, the boobs, the horny teenage guys and the... equally horny girls? The bitchy moms and the homework, my God the homework..."

"Okay," I stopped her, "I get your point."

"I'm so done with this fuckin' place."

I didn't believe her, though. The way she was drinking in the landscape as we drove by told me there was something about this place she didn't really want to leave behind. I didn't want to press her, though. I wanted to say how weird it was, in those first couple days she had been the one so gung ho about this whole thing, she was the one who encouraged me to go with the flow and, well I'm not inside her head or anything but somewhere along the way she lost that.

I dug my iPod out of the glove compartment. The one I brought home after being transformed, full of my Todd music. I hooked it up to the radio and set it to "London Calling." As soon as that opening chord struck up, she started to bob her head. She turned to me and smiled.

"Oh hell yeah, turn that up!"

The drive lasted nearly five hours, after traffic and food stops. We put an unofficial moratorium on Inn-talk and got to talking about old times. People we used to know. Sometimes, the Inn came up, peripherally, when we'd link some old experience to a recent one, but we were really just chilling out shooting the shit like we always did. It was so nice.

We pulled up to the Inn around 9, when the rain was starting to let up. The clouds made night fall sooner. I got out of the car and opened the rear. I saw a figure coming toward me from the entrance of the Inn. It was a middle-aged Asian guy in a trucker cap and plaid work shirt.

"Need some help?"

"Um... sure." He grabbed some bags and followed after me. I was wary, but we did have a lot of luggage.

He commented, "Guess you don't believe in travelin' light?"

I laughed, "Guess not."

We got to the door of the Inn. There was a white woman sitting on a chair on the porch doing a crossword puzzle. She looked up and acknowledged me with a friendly smile. He paused and said, "This your first time at this Inn?"

I stopped and looked at him. "Nope. We've been here before."

He smiled and took off his cap, brushing his hair with his fingers, "Yep. You can always tell when someone's coming back. They have this... look on their faces. Like they're expecting something out of this place."

"So I guess you know about this place, eh?"

"Oh, I know." He laughed. "I know." We continued to carry things to the room. I hadn't yet opened the door. I asked, "Have you seen anyone else around?"

"You're the first souls we've seen around here today. I guess you're early for the show."

He paused, then continued, "If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to come find me. I'm George, the lady on the porch is my wife Jan."

I extended my hand and we shook. I've gotten so used to being under cover, so I introduced myself, "Anne-Marie," and then paused before adding, "Todd."

"Well, Anne-Marie Todd, I'll see you around." And he went back out front. Bryan caught up with me, giant bag trailing behind her thin little arm.

"So, who's that guy anyway?"

"He's like us, I guess." I'll have to make a note to talk to him, but at the time all I really wanted was to get my stuff put away.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. I don't know what I was expecting, but the room looked just how I remember it. Twin beds. Window. Closet.

Some very familiar-looking luggage sitting on top of each bed. On top of the luggage were envelopes. The one Deb left for me outlined her situation with Amanda - how they'd landed in the wrong bodies - and theorized that they had slept in the wrong beds. So our luggage was used to demarcate where we were to sleep. It gave a general status report on our lives and a "goodbye" or sorts, "Nice knowing you." Maybe I'll summarize it later. I cracked open the suitcse, and breathed in the heady scent of freshly-laundered male clothes. They were neatly folded in a way I'd never have done, but Alia had done for me on a few occasions.

I dug out my laptop - my Todd laptop, as Anne-Marie doesn't own one - the one that, a year ago, I had used to write my wandering memoirs, so I could get online and start writing this. The internet connection here is outdated and slow though, so I don't think I'll be doing much casual browsing... which is a shame since I'll need something to keep myself occupied.

Bry's note contained a pleasant surprise, indicating "Look in the closet." She did, and there she found a guitar case - an old acoustic we used to tinker with when we couldn't plug in, and when Bry was considering getting his busking license.

She immediately started warming up. Having little fingers and little arms, and only played bass the last few months, she was a little clumsy - still better than me though. "I'm feeling a little Beatley tonight," she said, and began to play "Two Of Us." We had a little singalong; our harmonies were atrocious. It's a good thing only George and Jan were around to hear, if they could.

That's all for tonight. I don't know whether people will show up immediately or just trickle in - I'd have thought more for a weekend like this, but whatever - but I'm guessing we'll at least have a few nights to rest.

I'll try to post every day while I'm hre, but don't get too upset if I don't, it probably just means nothing interesting enough happened to warrant me suffering these load times. I still have no idea what I'll do to pass the time, since Bry can't even drink.

We'll figure something out.

-Todd/Anne-Marie