Tyler/Alan: Last Ride

One thing about knowing that there's a 50/50 chance on any given night here I might have to bid farewell to my gender again is that it has spurred me to take advantage of the situation. Kitty and I don't agree on a lot of things and we don't cooperate well at tasks like cooking, cleaning or grocery shopping, but there is one thing we have done well since the beginning. And I'm almost afraid to talk about it because of who might be reading.

I don't want to compare Kitty and Meghan, because it's like apples and oranges. What Meghan and I had... Physically, emotionally, spiritually, I will probably never get again. That doesn't change the fact that I screwed it up, and it also doesn't change the fact that more or less I'm "with" Kitty now. She clearly has decades of sedate, unfulfilling married life to get out of her system, memories of a long term partner who took her for granted, a new lease on life thanks to her transformation... Shit, it's no wonder she seems so reluctant to give it up.

It's clear that Kitty enjoys looking like Greta, the statuesque stunning Scandinavian type. To be frank, I think changing one's body can be healthy. Even if yours is perfectly good, having a new one for a while can reinvigorate your love for yourself. This doesn't just go for Kitty. I feel like Meghan's time as Tasha - another tall blonde buxom stunner - helped open her up a bit more. When she went back to being herself, she was a whole new woman, even though she was coming back to her same old self.

And for what it's worth, I still believe Meghan, the real one, is the most attractive woman I've ever laid my eyes on. Once, late at night as we were drifting off to sleep she asked if I would have preferred her looking like Tasha (supposing that was,an option, which it wasn't.) I took a look at her dark chocolate brown hair, cut just short enough to sweep over her eyes in that mischievous was, masking the glint that came from knowing she,was whip smart but not bragging about it... And I placed my hand on her hip, tgat wild extreme cutve that always invited me in... And I told her honestly, and I meant it from the bottom of my heart, absolutely not. But I loved her in whatever package I could have her in. I would see the beauty in her anywhere.

Maybe the Inn screws with people's minds, their chemistry, their sexualities, but some things as are beyond even that. I felt great affection in my heart for her when we were both women, when I was younger and smaller and slighter than her, and we were  not blood relations but close enough that it would have been a scandal. I grappled with that every day, even as I could feel Lauren's body pulling me into the psyche of a heterosexual teenage girl. And getting to fulfill that desire, even for a short time, made the whole misadventure a tad more worthwhile.

Bit things happened the way they did, my nature got the better of me. If I was a trifle less stubborn I reckon I could have stayed and worked it out. She was a sensible person. I was the damn fool who lost her. I ought to make my peace with that. It ain't likely I'll get the chance to put things right.

So here I am, lying next to Kitty/Greta in the early morning light on an August morning in Maine. Knowing it would hurt Meghan to see me with someone who looks this way. And knowing neither of us will look this way for much longer.

Tyler/Alan: Fun in the Sun

I've been trying to find a way to enjoy my time in Maine... the mild weather, the sea salt in the air, the scenery. But it's hard to really appreciate it with the cloud of dread hanging over me. The mystery of who I'll become in a few days. The fates of all the people I've seen here so far. Whether I'll be able to separate myself from Kitty.


It's been a very quiet week. We've almost had the whole place to ourselves. Which is kind of nice, I suppose - a quiet getaway before the storm erupts and we have to not only figure out our new lives but shepherd any newbies into this "lifestyle..."


Kitty has basically done nothing but lie around and complain. Complain about the weather, about not feeling well, about how long this is taking. About how I'm not good company... finally today, I encouraged her to get out, enjoy the sunshine, do some shopping... do anything. Once this curse hits there's probably not gonna be time and energy for recreation.


For a while, the only familiar person to show up was Rosie, who arrived the day after we did. I hadn't seen her since the fall when Meghan and I went down to NYC for an overnight trip. As Ahmir she and I are about eye-to-eye, but she looks to have about a hundred or more pounds on me. But he has a way of carrying himself like he wants to be smaller - which, remembering how Rosie originally looked, may be a habit she carried over. She's also rocking a shaved head look, telling me it was to give the real-Ahmir a fresh start, and because afros draw too much unwanted attention.


Bless her heart, the past year seems to have really triggered her anxiety.


The first thing she did when she got here was open all the bags in her room. At first she flipped out, because none of the clothes looked familiar, but there was a wallet with "her" I.D. and a letter signed by the interim Rosie.


I hesitated to examine the luggage left for me and Kitty at first. The Inn isn't an exact science, it seems, and what you seem to have laid out in front of you might not be the true end result. So I didn't want to open the nondescript black suitcase and find a bunch of clothes for a 25-year-old man and get my hopes up only to get girlified again. But at Kitty's behest, after the weekend, we took a look.


I was not pleased with the first thing I saw: bras and panties. They appeared to be freshly laundered, no travel-aroma attached to them. Some very flowery looking dresses. My heart sank. Please, let there be more to this. Give me even a sliver of hope.


We opened the next bag: men's wear. Dockers, jeans, cargo shorts, t-shirts. Not that far off from my size, although the waist could be smaller. Ok. So assuming this curse spreads things out in the same way from one time to the next, Kitty and I will be becoming a couple. A grown, married couple.


Which doesn't necessarily mean we'll be staying a couple as far as I'm concerned.


Which one of us gets to be which one... I mean, obviously I have a preference. But I can weather the storm if it ends up the other way. It looks like annual trips to the Inn is my life now, especially if, God above forbid, I have to spend another year on the female side of the fence. I just can't see myself settling down as that. But to be happy for a year? I don't need much. Just give me my own house, my own income, the room to make my own choices in life and I'll be fine I guess.


People have been trickling in since the weekend. Again, this seems like a strange way to do things, and I've been wondering if some were repeat-visitors with business to clear up, but no, I don't think so. Just random folks who couldn't make it up for the first weekend of the month.

Tyler/Alan: A Life of Wandering...

Three trips to the Trading Post Inn. That has to be some kind of record, at least for those of us who write about it. I hear rumors about people who go back every year, but I wouldn't have chosen to be one of them. I guess this is my life now whether I want it or not, no matter what I look like.

If I could choose? I don't know. Being doomed to a life of wandering really just feels like an extension of what I was already doing with myself, just with more... complications. Would I even know how to settle down? To live one life for the rest of my life?

Kitty is along for the ride, as you know. I couldn't exactly escape her... I needed to bring her back to the Inn as Greta, and she's basically in the same boat as me. Someone out there preferred to be a privileged woman in her 50's instead of whatever they started as. I don't even know if her husband is going to show up - he wound up in the body of a 13-year-old boy in a seriously screwed up family - and it's questionable if they could all get back there. I'll be curious to find out.

She's not convinced we need to do this. As far as I'm concerned it's pretty shitty that she wouldn't feel much guilt about making off with Greta's body and life, if it weren't for the fact that I'm pushing her into it. She must still like me enough to go along with my plans. We're flying out to Portland tonight.

The last few weeks have been a bit hectic. Kitty has been running very hot and cold, sometimes trying to seduce me, sometimes screaming her head off at me, sometimes freezing me out altogether, depending on what I've done recently. It doesn't help that I got into a bit of trouble at work...

I was helping Mr. Donato with a business deal the other night, and things went a bit messy. We were at a pool hall and there was, um, a "disagreement," and a right hook caught me square in the face, producing a really nasty shiner. I'm hoping it fades by the time I transform. I'd hate for Alan to face that in the mirror, and I would hate to give the impression I wasn't doing my best to take care of his body (the money makes the risk worth it - I may not be Tyler anymore but I still feel like I can take a punch now and again!) But really it looks worse than it is, even if Kitty doesn't believe me. She was right pissed off that I got so banged up on the job and demanded I quit. I did, but not because she told me to. We were close to the end of my time as Alan and I made a good buck.

Maybe the Inn's magic will split Kitty and I up, but given we're sharing a room it seems more likely that we'll be stuck with each other for a while. At this point, I don't really have a plan, it's hard to tell. I want to be away from this person. But I want a lot of things I can't have...

I want to be myself. And looking in the mirror at Alan's face, he was about as close as I could hope to be. And I'm just giving it up, giving it back, because I'm not a shitty person. This face could look like anybody soon. And it could come with any number of problems. But there's no going back now.

Tyler/Alan: Countdown

Kitty and I have had a few dinners with Alan's family since I've been here. It's a strange feeling, because we hardly know these people yet they treat us like family. When I was Lauren, it was a little easier to get used to because I was around her family all the point to where I started thinking of them as "my" family. The Schmidts are very nice people but I've only met them a few times. And this last one really didn't go so well.

We were at a small backyard get-together over the weekend. Over the course of the night, she had a few drinks. Alcohol seems to have a pretty random effect on Kitty... sometimes it makes her very friendly and even frisky, sometimes it makes her moody or sad. I have actually tried to limit her drinking but I couldn't really find a basis to do so since she's a grown woman and it's not always this bad. On this particular night it made her just nasty. Made her want to spill her guts to anyone who would listen about how inattentive I was, how I had shortcomings as a provider, how there was no future with me... the implication being that I just didn't live up to her ex, Chet. This all stemming from the fact that I tried to convince her to take a temp job to lighten the financial load, and because I also work nights when she feels we could be spending time together. But nobody in the audience really got that context.

For me, it was embarrassing, and I had to basically drag her home early. For everyone around, it was confusing. We were supposedly this perfect match that had been together for years and had a really solid foundation, but the reality is we just started sleeping together a few months ago out of convenience. A need for comfort. A rebound.

I don't think Kitty gets the whole "rebound" thing and I feel bad that I have ended up hurting her. She wanted to leap into something more serious, committed and constant, because that was what she was used to. I just needed to blow off some steam and I really thought we were on the same page. I saw too late that we aren't. She expects a lot of my attention and I need a bit more freedom to find myself before I can be with someone the way I was with Meghan.I think the issue is that she sees me "in-character" as Alan, her "loving boyfriend," and wonders why I can't be like that all the time. And I can't explain it, I just... can't be.

When we got home, we sat down and tried to have a long talk. She was in tears, talking about how I had embarrassed her by taking her away from the party and treated her more like a problem than a person.

I told her I respect her feelings too much to continue this arrangement. I felt like if it just wasn't working out, we should go our separate ways. As I said that, I felt the familiar sting of what a mistake it was the last time I did (honestly, if I wasn't so bull-headed, with such easily-wounded pride, I'm sure I could have worked it out with Meg.) This time, I didn't think I would have the regrets.

But she turned it around and begged me to reconsider. Please, she said, she's happier with someone than without, even in this situation. And she feels like we do get along (a lot of the time we do!) and that makes it worth working for. She also took the opportunity to take a few jabs at me for being a quitter. Ouch. Fair, though.

I said I really didn't know where I was at right now with the whole relationship thing. And in the back of my mind I'm thinking, "Better keep things stable. We're almost at the finish line, going back to the Inn, and if I break up with her now she might decide just to steal Greta's body." It sucks that I would suspect her of doing such a thing but I really don't know what she's capable of. It would be easy.

So, despite myself, I said yes. We're continuing to try. Maybe I'm a fool, but I want something in my life to work. At least for a little while. I don't know if either of us is the good guy here. Or even the bad guy. We're just two mixed-up people trying to find some happiness, you know?

And I realize the more I write in here, the more I'm not a perfect person and I have my own demons to face down. Commitment issues, communication issues, just personal problems that have plagued every good and bad relationship I have ever had. Maybe in my next life I will finally start to get the hang of it.

In some ways it was easier being Lauren. If I can forget all the pain of yearning for Meghan and the angst of being forced into the life of a teenage girl, at least I didn't have as much leeway to really screw things up for myself. How's that for self-loathing? Sometimes I would rather just give up control of my life again, because it couldn't get any worse. Anyway, sorry for the pity party. Needed to vent. Thanks for listening.

-Ty

Tyler/Alan: Opportunities

Well, that didn't take long. I quit my kitchen job.

No, I didn't discuss it with Kitty... she's probably going to be irritated, but sometimes an opportunity comes your way that you can't pass up.

Part of Thrio's service is that you can link up with a client and become their regular driver. You have to be available during a set regular time of the day, but the rates are a) fixed and b) much higher. It's a more premium service as compared to their regular carsharing system, and I honestly didn't think twice about it when I looked over the terms and conditions of my employment there. I figured I was just dabbling, no need to get in too deep.

So last Sunday night I was driving this guy around and we stop at this extremely shady little club in Downtown Milwaukee. He tells me he's just stopping in so I wait outside. When he comes out, he's got this other guy in a headlock. I raise my eyebrow but I don't get involved until the guy breaks free and knocks my client down. He's so busy kicking the crap out of him that he doesn't see me coming.

I... broke up the fight, suffice it to say. My client requested I hold the other guy back - Alan didn't have a lot of natural muscle but I can hold me own. He took a few cheap shots at the guy, to which I said stop, or I'll just let him go (I was getting paid the fare through his credit card anyway.) Turns out he owed my client some money, so we encouraged him to pay up.

My client, whom we'll call Donato, thanked me for having his back and slipped me a $100 bill, which I'm technically not supposed to accept. "You've got some moves, Beanpole." Uh huh.

Now, it turns out - I wouldn't have expected this before I lived here - Milwaukee, WI is one of the most dangerous cities in the country, home to a certain amount of small-scale organized crime... and while I can't speculate as to whether Donato is actually doing anything illegal, he definitely seems like someone involved in some questionable stuff.

So two days later, when he put in an official request to retain my services as a driver - from 6 PM until 3 AM six days a week at a rate of one thousand dollars per night I... was shocked, but I didn't exactly feel like I could say no.

Kitty wasn't thrilled, but I explained at least she would know what hours to expect me, and I would really just be on call for this guy, not necessarily driving him all that time. Could it be dangerous? Perhaps, but... the opportunity is too good to pass up. In the time between now and July, I would be making nearly a year's worth of salary at a conventional job.

I hope this doesn't affect her decision to come back to Maine with me, but... I think I can make it up to her.

Tyler/Alan: Work-Life Balance

Or maybe that should be work/work-life/life balance, since I have two jobs and effectively two lives.

Of the two jobs, my position with Threo has the most potential for making money. If I devoted more time to it, I could probably be very well off. But it has its ups and downs. The kitchen job, which is very low paying (and seriously beneath me) is more consistent. Between the two of them, I'm out of the house anywhere from 12 to 15 hours per day (my initial plan was to only drive on days when I wasn't washing dishes, but the money was too good to limit myself.)

Being out for 15 hours at a time, then coming home and going right to bed, is fine when you're on your own. But apparently I have a girlfriend. I didn't realize when I suggested Kitty and I start fooling around on a regular basis that I was also gonna have to perform the duties of a real honest-to-god boyfriend, but she's a bit old school like that.

Everything was going fine - I would come home late, chat with her a bit, and then if I was in the mood I'd initiate something. But slowly we crept more into relationship territory. She'd ask how late I was going to be out, text me while I was at work to check in, find reasons to get frustrated with me. And I would feel guilty too, so I'd apologize and try to find a way to make it up to her. She's very keen on living (a version of) Greta's social life, whereas I am very wary of interacting with these people since I don't plan on being here anymore come fall.

She would rather I just work lunch shifts at the kitchen, so I was more free to keep her company at night. But that's the least amount of money I can make, and since she basically refuses to work - she's not qualified for anything that isn't "beneath her" - we need the cash. I would rather give up the restaurant and drive full time, but she would feel personally slighted if I was out working the late hours (when there's more $$ to be made.)

Why do I desperately need to keep her on my good side? I don't know. I need good karma. I need to get Alan and Greta back where they belong, and move on in my life. Kitty is pretty worried that means leaving her behind, going our separate ways once we get new lives and... I'm not going to lie, that seems possible to me. I'd say I wouldn't ditch her outright, but... isn't that what I did to Meg? Shit, I am scum.

So now I'm a little reluctantly in a couple. We make plans like a couple, we fight like a couple... we also joke around like a couple and screw like a couple. We've gotten very comfortable in this situation, and I don't mind putting in some work to keep it going. Maybe I shouldn't be so outspoken about this but I'm still a person with needs and desires, and she's... there, and doesn't seem as critical of my every move as Meg sometimes could be. She's quite attractive and sweet to me, and making her happy makes me feel good, warm and comforted. It feels like we're in this together, in a way that Meg and I weren't, since she got her body back.

We still have some time left - the rest of June and all of July - so it's in my best interest, if I'm bringing Kitty with me ("They're probably perfectly happy wherever they are, why ruin a good thing?") to keep her happy. And to try to get as much happiness out of it as I can myself.

Tyler/Alan: Milwaukee and a fresh(ish) start

Shacking Up

There was some hostility between me and Kitty when I arrived in Milwaukee, mostly stemming from the fact that neither of us expected to see the other. As far as I knew, when Kitty became Greta (and her husband became a 10-year-old boy) they had packed up and gone to Providence, and stayed there. So when I opened the door to "our" apartment and saw her there, I just stood in the doorway, surprised. And she was surprised too, because she was in the middle of a make-out session with some guy - I think his name was Zane or Zack or something.

At first, all she could do was blurt out a panicked "You!" While Zane peeled himself off her and turned to face me. I'm a tall guy as Alan, but I'm lanky and haven't exactly bulked up. This guy looked like he hit the gym often enough, and while I can fight, I have never thrown a punch or attempted a takedown in this body so I don't really know my own (lack of ) strength in that area.

I stammered, trying to cover, "Greta! I'm back!"

"Greta?" said her beau, "I thought you said your name was Kitty."

"That's... what I like to be called," she said, covering embarrassedly, "And this is..."

"Alan," I said, "I'm the... ex, I guess. Roommate."

"You live with your ex?" said the guy.

"No... I live alone," she said rather curtly. "He lives... somewhere else."

"My name's still on the lease, isn't it?" I asked - part rhetorically, part genuinely. I had been paying the full rent while I was in Vermont. "Anyway. Key still works. I'm surprised to see you here."

"I could say the same thing," Kitty sneered. "You won't be staying long, will you?"

I had planned on dropping right into bed, but the last thing I wanted was to deal with this after a long day on the road. "No, just... stopping by..." I sighed, "I see you're busy, I'll come back tomorrow."

"Call first," she said sharply.

It was late, and I didn't know any of Alan's friends or relatives so I stayed in a motel. The next morning I called. She must have seen Alan's name on the call display because instead of Hello, she said "What do you want? I thought you were in Virginia."

"Vermont," I corrected, "And things... went bad for me there. I needed to refresh."

"Well good luck," she said, and then she hung up.

I could see she was being difficult, but I had been paying rent on that apartment for months, and as far as I knew it was unoccupied. I had a right to it, and if I couldn't use it I wasn't going to let her squat for free.

I went over and went right in, dropping my stuff by the door. Zane or Zack's shoes were gone. I called out, "Honey, I'm home."

"Get out of here, you idiot!" she said, storming out from the bedroom in a huff.

"Easy, easy," I said, "Let's just talk. I've been paying your rent apparently, so you owe me that much. Money, too, but we'll get to that."

She sunk down to the couch. "Fine, cut me off, I don't care. It doesn't matter."

"Okay, let's not... look, what happened, how did you end up here?"

The story went basically how I expected. She and Chet stayed in Providence for a short while before the police arrived - apparently they had gotten a tip that someone may have been squatting at their house, and lo and behold it's a grown woman with a minor from out of state. Chet agreed to go back to the "Jenkinses," against Kitty's wishes, because he felt Wisconsin was too far from the Inn, and the brush with the cops left him skittish.

"Things were bad before we went to the Inn, and the transformation didn't exactly help," she said bitterly. "I guess we're still technically married - we even e-mail sometimes... but it's starting to feel like it's all in the past. Like it's for the best if we go our separate ways. I'm realizing that we both knew the marriage was in trouble, but we didn't know the other person knew."

"And does he know about this? About Zane, or Zack or whatever?"

"He knows a bit," she said. "He doesn't care about me, He's having the time of his life out there. He's got a ton of little girlfriends, I see them on Facebook and Insta-whatever..."

"Instagram," I said, embarrassed that I both knew and felt the need to correct that. "He doesn't... actually date them, does he?"

"Maybe, I don't know," she scoffed. "It's perverse." (More perverse than whatever they were doing together in Providence? Who knows.) "He's scum and most of the time I want nothing to do with him."

"What about the rest of the time?"

"The rest of the time I cry myself to sleep wondering how I let him get away."

This conversation took almost all day, I'm just paraphrasing and cutting it down. I shared my story, too and we bonded over our break-ups, how badly the Inn had screwed up our (already borderline, in both cases) lives.

She had been living there since October, rent-free thanks to me. She made some money here and there by taking temp jobs that she was not well-suited for but never staying long enough to get really established. "It was just the easiest way, the apartment was just sitting here..." she said, "Don't make me leave."

Begrudgingly, I admitted it would be cruel of me to cast her out, but it wasn't fair to me to have to pay for an apartment I couldn't use. I told her I would take the couch, and that she would have to work hard to find work she could do. Of course, I didn't take into account exactly how long Alan's freakish legs are, so the couch wasn't exactly... ideal.

Weeks pass. True to form, I'm working already, but the only restaurant job I could find was bussing (I had just missed the hiring period for most restaurants heading into summer, and I think I got a bad reference out of one of my Vermont jobs.) To fill things out, I took up Alan's old driving job for Threo, an Uber-knockoff, and Kitty, well... like she said, she doesn't really have many skills, except access to a bit of rainy day savings she and Chet divvied up and kept from the new-them.

What Friends Are For


As to how we went from reluctant roommates to something more, well... it didn't all happen at once. Kitty is a very social animal, so she had already ingrained herself with Greta's friends. Naturally, they all had questions about where I was. Her answer was that I "just vanished with some woman." That definitely didn't make me/Alan sound good and leaves a lot of questions. Still, apparently they weren't so scandalized that I was Public Enemy #1 when Kitty let it slip that Alan was back in town. They wanted to see how I was and get some more details.

I protested at first - these people aren't my friends, and in the long run I wasn't going to be here very long, so why get attached? But she was insistent and brought them around the apartment to run into me.

The first meeting - there was six or seven people there, a few couples and some single friends - was rough, because I was supposed to know these people well and had no prep time. They grilled me about my missing months, but I deflected - a skill I learned well from my time as Lauren. Basically, I alluded to the idea that something (and yes, someone) had gotten between me and Greta, but we were moving past it... and we weren't sure where we stood. When you talk in cryptic terms like that, people don't tend to pry for further details, (if they're polite.)

Of course in reality, I was pretty sure where we stood. Roommates. Fellow Inn Victims. Maybe even uneasy friends, given the fact that I didn't particularly care for her when we first met, but my sympathy for her situation had grown. I wasn't looking for more and although I knew she was right man-hungry, I didn't really see myself as filling that position. But a few things happened over the course of time.

I think having to talk to her friends as though we were "Alan & Greta" (instead of "Alan" and "Greta") made her hungry to establish something concrete between us. I started noticing signals. First I thought they were in my head: a lingering gaze at me, a text to see how my day (or night, if I was out driving) was going. Little signs. I didn't know how to feel about that. First I thought it was in my mind, and then I felt like I didn't want the attention, and then... I kinda did, because hey. I can't deny that looking the way Kitty does... a tall, svelte, cute-faced young woman... getting positive attention from her felt good on a primal level. But still I played it off.

Then we started talking. Really talking. About our lives before the Inn, about my experiences since. I think the conversation that did it for me was when she asked me about the year I spent as Lauren. I wanted to help her understand what her husband might be going through, being a teenager with the mind and experience of an adult. "It's not exactly like being a teen... you know so much more, everything isn't so life-and-death. I kind of had to laugh and roll my eyes at my friends who were constantly coming to pieces over boys and the like. But there's this rush and excitement when things are going well. You're still in a body that's a little out of control, and that's intoxicating."

"What was that like for you? Did you make any... mistakes?"

"No, no... I was good. I had lots of opportunities, and at times... like, when you want to blow off steam because things are just so crummy, and there's no... goodness. You're still human. You want sex, and you want love and attention and it's like... where are you going to get it? Not grown-ups. But the people who look like you, what they have to offer, you don't want exactly that either. I... don't envy your husband right now."

Being Lauren brought with it a ton of contradictions for me. It sucked feeling so trapped between places, second-guessing every thought I had and wondering if it was coming from my mind or my body. If I had landed in a grown woman's body I might have behaved very differently, relaxed more... but the way things were, I had to be definitely on guard. I wanted attention but I didn't want to want it. Because all my available options were unappealing to me, I focused on the one least realistic but most sought: Meg. Maybe I did idealize her, but the thought that we were meant to be together after all that crap, that I had to keep my slate clean for when I could finally declare my feelings for her, kept me from doing a lot of stupid things.

As I revealed these things, and she didn't judge me for any of them, I felt closer and closer to her. And there was even a moment when I thought "I could kiss this person right now." But I didn't want my actions to be confused by the intimacy of the moment.

It was two days later, after rolling it around in my head for a while, that I phrased it this way, over take-out: "I'm going to come right out and say what I think we're both thinking. You and I should sleep together."

She came off as stunned, but I think she was just playing. "Wow that was very forward of you, Tyler... I don't know what to say."

"Think it over," I said, playing along with her coyness, "I think it would be good for both'a us to have the outlet. If either of us is going to have somebody, it should be... each other."

"You mean like... no strings attached?"

I smirked, "Well... we already got the strings, don't we? Out there, we're Alan and Greta, a couple, but in here, we can just be Tyler and Kitty, two folks having a good time. We didn't ask for this. But I think... well look, I just think it could be good. It will help us both get over what we've been through."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine for a moment. Pulling back, she smirked, "You're not a very good kisser."

"I'll be more ready next time."

And so it began.

I'm not going to pretend I don't still feel guilty about things. Meghan might be reading this, and the story of me admitting to her that Kitty and I were having a fling (ahead of revealing it on this blog) was not one of the best feelings I've ever experienced, sure as shit, but it was a necessary awkward conversation so that we could all get on with our lives and maybe I could feel free to talk about things on this blog again.

Sometimes I feel regret, when I'm lying in bed with Greta, because I know it should be someone else. I shouldn't have even gotten here, but things happened how they did and I... I responded the way I did. You can't un-ring that bell.

I'm just someone trying to find the most comfort he can in a shitty life. That may be all I have left, for as long as my days.

Tyler/Alan: It's a long story.

Here and Now...

It's rainy out this morning, but I a stray bolt of sunshine breaks through the window and hits me in the eye. I roll over and take a look at the clock - 7:05 AM. I didn't get to sleep until probably 2 last night. Groggy and disoriented, I roll over and look at her, murmuring "Meg..." as I do so. She doesn't budge. If I drape my arm around her, she might wake up and be ticked at me that roused her. For half a moment I try to roll over and fall back asleep, but then I realize this is pointless. My stomach is grumbling. So I do what any self-respecting boyfriend does in this situation, I get up and make some breakfast - cooking here is pretty pleasurable since I've spent the last few weeks setting the kitchen up to my liking, and it's no longer what I do for a living. I crack the eggs and make what I consider to be a perfect over-easy, while the bacon sizzles in a separate skillet. She's not really an early riser, but I'm hoping the scent of breakfast will inspire her to get up.

She told me that before me, she really only liked eggs in an omelette with a ton of fresh ingredients. I feel like I've shown her that there's good food you can make on a budget.

I've got the meal prepared and set on a tray to bring to her bedside, when she appears in the doorway. "Mmm, is that for me?" she moans hungrily, stretching her arms over her head so that her shrunken gray tee-shirt rides up her abdomen, exposing her underwear and middrift. This is definitely on purpose for my benefit.

"I thought breakfast in bed would be nice," I smile, offering her the tray.

"Uh huh," she says, taking a piece of bacon. "I hope you're ready to vacuum the crumbs off the sheets, then."

I sigh, "Table it is, then."

The kitchen table has a nice view of the Milwaukee skyline and Lake Michigan behind it, the sun kinda-sorta rising behind rainclouds. With every bite she compliments my cooking, when really it's just the basic skillset from working at one diner after another for a decade. I'm not exactly Top Chef. But I can do eggs.

As she finishes her (probably over-acted for my benefit) foodgasm, she looks over to me and notes, "Did I dream it, or did you call me Meg this morning?"

I'm a little embarrassed but I have nothing to feel guilty about. "I must've been half-asleep, sorry," I say.

"Well, you're with me now," she says, walking over to my side of the table to plant a kiss on my lips.

"I know, Kitty." I say, mustering up as much affection as I can feel in this moment. She knows she's a rebound, and I am for her too, but neither of us care. We're making the best of a pretty rotten situation.

Alabama

Things have changed a lot since the last time I posted here. That was earlier this year, when I was living in Vermont and deeply in love with Meghan. I was happy. She was happy, I'm pretty sure. We seemed to have a future ahead of us, even if it was a bit murky. But you never know how shaky these things are until they really get put to the test.

We were a good pair. We fought now and again - I'm not a perfect person or a saint. I could get drunk and rant about how much I disliked living with her roommate, Gene. I could quit my job on a whim, which was always disappointing to her because she preferred stability and continuity (I never went without one for long, I promise.) I could be a slob or break plans on short notice. I was chaos and she was order. I could even complain a bit about how uptight she could be about our living situation, but all in all I tried to be appreciative and respectful and courteous and work as hard as I ever have at anything to make that relationship work. We understood each other in the way that only people who have been through something as crazy as what we have, and she seemed to have a lot of patience for me, all things considered. More than I deserved.

I wanted it to work because I waited a year for it, suffered through the humiliations of being a teenage girl and watching her with both Wade and Mikal from a distance, knowing that just the possibility that she might return my feelings would make the whole ordeal worth it. She never promised anything, but when we made our return to the Inn, the stars kind of aligned for us. If we had rigged it, we couldn't have gotten a better hand. Someone up there loved me...

But since there were no promises and no guarantees I wanted to show I was worth taking a chance. I wanted to become better and show her I was worthy of her love. And for a while I was. But thinking now, I suspect there's things about me that were always going to sabotage the relationship. In another life, maybe it would have been perfect.

What's this got to do with Alabama? Well. That's her fault. I didn't want to go. I made it my life's mission to never step foot in the state of Alabama again. In fact I was done with pretty much the whole South if I could help it. It was nothing but trouble for me my whole life.

Except that one time last year when I did go back to Alabama, and met the man who stole my face.

I remember, sitting there, across the table from him and feeling so helpless, so small. I was in Lauren's little body, so he dwarfed me. He wore this shit-eating grin, trying to cut a deal with me for more money than I could have scared up babysitting and mowing the lawn. It felt perverse and demoralizing, and - as I alluded earlier, humiliating. It was one of a few times during that year that I cried - outright bawled  - at my situation, and pitied myself. But what could I do? There were forces at play here much bigger than me. As my dad would say, sometimes you just suck the shit.

So why did I go back? Because I was guilted into it. Because my sister Carrie spent a year living as Meghan, and did such a nice job that they became long-distance BFF's, so when Carrie asked her to ask me to come visit home, because our father was on his deathbed, I had basically no choice in the matter.

My relationship with my father is... complicated. Or I should say it was complicated, because he's not my father anymore, both because as far as the world is concerned Tyler Blake is someone else, and because he's gone now.

But since I still carry some baggage from it, I guess it always will be complicated. He was a tough, drunk, Vietnam Vet who was not real easy to live with even at the best of times. The user-friendly version is that I was never who he wanted me to be - I had two older, more athletic, traditionally "Good Ole Boy" brothers. The three of them were Duck Dynasty without the beards and money. I was the smart-ass youngest son. We all caused trouble at various times - staying out late, drinking, vandalizing, screwing around with girls in the gas station bathroom and such - but they had the good fortune of doing those things while also playing football and hunting. I hated all of that, their whole lifestyle, their attitude. I wanted out from an early age. And I also had the bad luck to have my mother die of cancer when I was a toddler. I was just too big a problem for him to handle on his own. He hit the bottle, went on disability and lost what little we had.

By the time my dad re-married and Carrie was born, I was well on my way to being the black sheep. I was a lot closer in age to Carrie than I was to my older brothers, so I bonded with her... but I guess the difference was that my dad got his new lease on life when he met Carrie's mom (who is a very nice woman, but has since divorced him) so she got a "good dad." He still treated me like a whipping boy, but I never resented her for being Daddy's little girl. One of life's little shit-sucking moments. I knew it wasn't her fault, and she was a good sister to me.

So with Pa on death's door, Carrie was having an emotional meltdown - she had just gotten back from a year in the North, so she was realizing she had basically lost her last precious moments with him. This was it. And no matter what my feelings were for that man, or my home region, or anything, I would be a terrible brother to let that get in the way of consoling my sister.

Meg and I sat in the back of the funeral. My brothers and their families were up front, They gave cursory attention to Carrie but had their own broods to worry about. I didn't talk to any of them - we get along decently now but it's not like I can go catch up with them. But whenever someone did ask who I was and why I was at this funeral, I claimed to be the son of some long-forgotten acquaintance from one of our many moves around the county, paying my respects.

My Skeletons

The event that led to my breakup with Meg happened after the funeral. Once everything had cleared, we met up for drinks with Carrie and started seriously catching up and talking about old times, telling anecdotes, trying to remember the positive memories I had of my father, etc etc.

Then the subject turned to... him. You know, Fake-Tyler. And the air got sucked right out of the room.

"What if he had shown up?" Meghan asked. None of us thought it was likely, and as far as I knew the man who had occupied my body the last time I saw it had moved on later in the summer - supposedly he was paid to do so.

"I would'a made him regret it," I said. Whether or not I can back that up, beanpole that Alan Schmidt is, I'm glad I don't have to. Meg looked mortified that I would even consider it.

"Truth is, I don't even know where he went," Carrie sighed, "After the hospital, I mean."

That brought the conversation the an abrupt halt. Meg's eyebrow raised: "The hospital? What hospital?"

"You didn't tell her about it?" my sister asked.

"Tell me what?"

"No, I... didn't really see the point."

I won't attempt to transcribe the exact conversation, because I would hate to misrepresent Meghan (or myself) so here's the summary.

What Carrie was talking about is that, at some point last summer, the man in my old body was attacked outside a bar and beaten within inches of his life. What little information we had at the time wound its way from the person in Carrie's body, to Carrie, to me, and I was still so shaken up from my meeting with him that I kept it to myself. He was beaten so badly that he spent a month or more convalescing and rehabilitating, and then disappeared. Maybe he made his trip to the Inn, maybe he didn't.

But I could see the thought process behind Meg's eyes as she analyzed the information and posed a simple question: "But... why?" It couldn't just be a coincidence, a random act of violence. Maybe it had something to do with the Inn, with these people who paid him to run off with my body? "Who would do that?"

"Some old friends of yours, I assume," Carrie said flatly.

I bristled, angry that she would bring it up in front of Meghan, knowing full well how hard I tried to put that part of my life behind me. Meghan knew I wasn't exactly a saint, but I never really wanted her to find out exactly how many skeletons I had in my closet.

Through gritted teeth, I admitted, "It's possible I owe a lot of money... or Tyler Blake does... to some people who... break legs. Among other things."

I couldn't look Meghan in the eye at that point, but I could see from the edge of my vision that she was hurt, shocked, aghast at my revelation of just how deep my shadows ran. I continued, hoping not to dig myself deeper, "There's a part of my life that... it was a long time ago, and I've moved past it, but... some people have long memories." That, more than my own negative associations or baggage, is why I never wanted to go back to the South in general, and Mobile in particular.

My guess is that Fake Tyler had no idea, or else he would have stayed clear of Mobile. I have no idea if that's something the people who paid him - The "Agency," I assume - would have known about that. It's not like there's a Local Gang Newsletter they can subscribe to. But apparently they have enough resources to have this international extortion network, so who knows what they know.

Meghan fell silent and we called it a night shortly after that. When we got to the hotel, there was still an awkward silence, and whenever Meghan would look at me there was this confused searching look in her eyes, like she didn't know who I was anymore... or like she was just finding out.

She told me she didn't understand why I didn't tell her about this: about my activities (most of which took place more than 5 years ago) or that I knew that had happened to the Fake Tyler. I told her I didn't think it mattered, and she asserted that it did - that if I was in danger, then so was she.

"But I'm not in danger - Tyler Blake is."

"What if these people come looking for you, the Agency?"

"Why would they?"

She sighed heavily. "Tyler, be honest with me. Did you have anything to do with this?"

"With what?"

"With the attack. Did you... I don't know... tell some people where they could find him? Because you were angry you weren't getting your body back?"

"Meghan, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"I don't know. That's not an answer."

"No, of course not. That was just a hazard of being Tyler Blake that he was unprepared for."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you should."

"I don't know what you're capable of!" she said tearfully. "I don't know you!"

"You know me, Meghan."

"Why did you get so lucky, Ty? You ended up in this handsome young man's body, and... what are the odds? Did you make this happen?"

"Meghan..."

"Are you even going to give Alan his body back?"

"Meghan, don't talk like that." I was insulted.

Tears were streaming down her face. She seemed exasperated. I was angry at her for the accusations - they seemed to be coming out of nowhere, even if months later I can admit I don't exactly look good in this scenario. I felt attacked.

But I still loved her. I still wanted to comfort and reassure her. I sat next to her on the bed.

"Of course I'm giving Alan his body back. No matter what. I'm not... I would never take from someone like that."

She sniffled. "And then what? Just hope you get a lucky draw again? Or you become a married man, or a woman, or a child... the possibilities are endless, and that's assuming nobody is out to get you.. It was so easy last time to wait, to not let myself get attached to the idea of being with you because I had no idea how it would all turn out. I feel like an idiot for being with you. For believing this could turn out well. This was fucking doomed."

"Don't say that," I growled, "Every second of it was worth it... worth the risk, the stress, the heartache. And if you love me, you'll see it through to the end with me."

She was quiet a long time, thinking, until she finally said, "I don't think I can. Not now, not knowing what I know about you now. Thinking you're this sort of person."

"I'm telling you, it's not the way you think it is."

"I wish I could believe that."

It sounded like her mind was all made up in the subject, so I started to gather my things.

She said, "You don't have to go right now."

Yeah, I did.

"Do you want to come back to Vermont and get your things?"

I didn't need them.

I went to a car rental place and just started driving. In the morning there were numerous text messages I didn't feel like answering. By then I had reached Memphis. I stayed there for a week or so to get my bearings before I made the decision to make my way almost as far north as north goes... Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Hometown of Alan Schmidt.