Marc/Dustin: Danger Zone

A few weeks ago, when John was making his pitch for me to, erm, increase my relationship with him, he said something that stuck with me: that if I didn't focus my attention his way, I would probably just go out and find another Christine.

As you might recall, during my time as Ed I struck up a friendship with a woman named Christine that teetered on something more. It wasn't really fair to either of us but she had no way of knowing that. It's just that sometimes people are in a place and they spark. Did I "look" for her? I didn't think so, but the feeling of clicking with someone at least a little bit is pretty intoxicating and it can be hard to know what the right decision is in a situation like that, your head clouded with, for lack of a better word, desire.

I resented the idea that I would be "looking" for another Christine, that I would risk pulling another person into my orbit just because of my own wants. But probably the reason I reacted so negatively -- and it helped get my little project with John off on the wrong foot -- is because there was truth to it, and I knew it. I think everybody wants love, everybody wants attention and affection and to be understood, and when you're an Inn-cursed person, especially one who isn't set on staying in a particular life, it's hard to form connections and get that. In some ways it's wrong to form connections. But if I was as solitary as I make myself out to be, if I was capable of being objective and pragmatic about the situation, I wouldn't have gotten myself into half the messes I've been in over the years.

Ifena.

You can only be so careful when you're bumping around in the world, you know, trying not to rock the boat. You can't hang a "do not disturb" sign on your heart. You can't keep everyone at arm's length all the time and explain to them, "Sorry, I'm not me, any connection you form with me will not be valid and is not worth pursuing." You can't "ghost" or White Fang someone who lives in the same house as you.

It started back in summer, early on when we were just settling into this status quo. I found myself in a body that seemed to enjoy being up with the sun and brimming with energy. At that time, I was sort of bonding with Mary, who was on a similar bio-rhythm. I was trying to get to know her and learn more about the person I had involuntarily dragged into this mess.

Mary's and my relationship/friendship/dynamic is what it is -- cordial, understanding, even with the big secret between us, but eventually when she started working her routine changed and I didn't see her as much. But who I did see was Ifena. Ify. She took over the role of preparing me a coffee upon my return, and then we would hang out on the front porch and play the day's NYT Games (she's got a real knack for Connections.) Being that I wasn't comfortable talking about "life" as Dustin yet, we'd talk about her, her ambitions, whether she would follow the roadmap she had laid out with her parents to go to law school. I had to recuse myself from that conversation since my experiences in the legal profession left me pretty jaded (although as Chantelle I found some more joy.) She's expressed doubts about her commitment to it, which of course signals to me it's a bad idea, but said she likes the idea of being a public defender, "But my parents would disown me if I went to all that trouble to make what a public defender makes."

Through several conversations, we forged a bond that the real Dustin would never have gotten with her, which caused me some anxiety. What happens when the real guy comes back into her life and disappoints her that he can no longer finish the crossword?

I tried to push these thoughts out of my head, even as Ify started accompanying me to the gym, spending time on the elliptical while I lifted. I started sensing we were approaching the Danger Zone. Ify was getting the best version of Marc, and I could feel myself wanting to be good for her, and starting to suspect that perhaps the feeling was mutual -- even if she played it down to appease PJ, Charly and Madison, who still see me as the original Dustin.

That's around the time John and Mary came to me, and I've since thought that maybe they could tell I was drifting based on the timing of their pitch... they need "Dustin" onside as much as I need them. Whether there was some aspect of John being attracted to me, or what, it was necessary to shore up our relationship credentials for financial benefit and social protection: I have to dissipate whatever is generating between myself and Ify. If there's a perceived crack in the Dustin-Dakota relationship, who knows what that opens me up to?

(I mean, if she were to make an advance, I should, and would, say no obviously, but having an existing relationship makes it that much easier to stay safe.)

That all brings us to Saturday night. Madison was having a mental health episode. Everyone else in the house was too high to drive, but John and I were already asleep and sober, so Ify came to wake me up and ask if I could drive Madison and her to the hospital (it's not my place to explain what the nature of Madison's emergency was, only that she needed help.)

Dutifully, I pulled some jeans and a shirt on and drove them, with John staying back. As they examined Madison, Ify and I talked, and she asked "Not that it's any of my business... but why were you sleeping on the floor?"

"Oh, you know," I stammered, "Dakota's a real blanket hog, and we just, kind of..."

"Uh huh," she kind of laughed, "I mean, you guys really seem like you're going through it. I don't understand it. Do you love her or not?"

I hate lying. For a lawyer I'm surprisingly bad at it. "I do..." I said noncommittally. "We're just, yeah, it's been rough lately. I literally could not explain it to you if I tried."

"Feels like she's really shown a different side of herself," Ify said. We are so accustomed to just gliding under the radar of people's awareness that we forget that some people really do know when others are out of character.

I said noting, and she kind of brushed her shoulder to mine -- a gesture that felt both innocent and intimate -- and told me she was there for me. Then we talked about Madison and she said that my being here showed who I really was.

We got home just before the sun came up and I crawled into bed -- literally, next to Dakota.

"Not that I mind, but what is this?" She said sleepily.

"I have a few things to say," I said, having rehearsed the whole drive home. "First, this is not a real relationship. It's a matter of convenience. I still think it will be healthiest if we all go our separate ways after returning to the Inn. But it's so much work to be in a fake relationship. People need partners. People need connections. If we are to keep going like this, I think we need to-- I need to try harder to make it feel real. I just need to give in already. Get over myself and just accept that for the time being, it's us. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Hm," she murmured ambivalently, "Nice opening statement, counselor. I'm not even sure I was awake for all of it, but if you're saying what I think you're saying, I have two requests."

"Uh huh?"

She rolled over to face me, her eyes glistening in the predawn light of the room. "One, kiss me. Right now, with nobody watching."

I leaned in to find her lips with mine and gave her probably the first real kiss I ever have, maybe even going back to our first meeting.

"That's the stuff," she sighed contentedly.

"And the other?"

"When you blog about this, just call me Dakota."

"Okay," I said. "Starting now."

And so, Dakota and I enter the next phase of our ever-evolving -- dare I say it -- relationship. 

Hopefully I don't end up regretting this.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Early Risers

As days passed, we started to develop our routine, inasmuch as eight or nine people (there's one guy drifting around named Garrison and I'm not entirely sure where he fits in) can have a routine. Naturally, John, Mary and I stick by one another, which I don't think is all that eyebrow-raising for the others, especially with Dustin and Dakota being an item. They were close enough to go on vacation together, and beyond "Wow, didn't you get enough of each other already" between the "girls," there's clearly a dynamic there that people are free to interpret. What are they doing having sleepovers in the basement every night? That's nobody's business - it's 2025, after all, right?

I found out early on that Dustin is an early riser. All my previous bodies had the sort of sleep cycles you would expect -- as Ryan I sometimes stayed out late but would end up sleeping in equally late. But Dustin seems to have an ability to wake up at 5:00 AM no matter how late he was up the night before, and still be brimming with energy. It's been borderline supernatural (well, I guess it's literally supernatural.)

At first I resisted this -- I really do like sleep -- but when it became obvious I wasn't going to get any more sleep and my body was ready to start the day, I decided to do something, so I went for a walk, which seemed the most sensible way to burn off energy without disturbing the rest of the house. Then as I was walking I thought why don't I see what it would be like to run? So I started to run, and I ran and I ran and I ran, and my legs just kept carrying me, without even thinking about how soon should I turn around in case I get out of breath. I ran as far as the local athletic center, really only a few blocks away, which I reached without tiring. I returned home and saw that, sure enough, I had a membership card. 

So the next day, I decided to go in. It's not hard to imagine this being Dustin's routine, running to the gym, spending twenty minutes on the rowing machine or the elliptical, lifting some weights, and then running back. Only then did I feel somewhat spent. This body is something else.

After a few days of that, I returned to the house today to see Mary sitting on the porch. She was waiting for me with a mug of coffee for each of us.

"A tablespoon of milk, a bt of sugar," she said.

"Wow," I nodded, "That's just how I take it." I sipped and told her it was right on.

She smiled. "I like to notice things about people who are important to me."

That made me blush a little bit. "Oh, am I...?" I stammered.

"Of course," she sipped her own coffee, "You and John and I share this secret. You've been... a stabilizing influence. And you're a nice person. Even when we disagree on things."

"I do what I can," I muttered, trying to downplay whatever goodness she sees in me. "Are you always up this early?' It was not yet 7 AM.

"I like to be," she said, "I'm trying to get on a better sleep schedule, but it's tough. This body is resisting my efforts. Have you noticed these garden plots here? They've got a lot of potential, but nobody's tending them. I thought that could be my project."

"I'm no green thumb, but isn't it a bit late in the season?"

She sipped and shrugged. Maybe she knew better than I did, or maybe she had other reasons for wanting to be up early and the garden was just an excuse.

"How's John?" I asked. Of course I had seen plenty of him that week, but we hadn't had a lot of private time lately -- nor would I have wanted to.

"John's... John," she said, then laughed musically because of course, John isn't John, to the world. John is the John that he is when he's Dakota, and do we really know what that means yet? In fact, given all that John hides from Mary, do we really know who John is?

"Things are all right between you two?" I asked, hopefully, but trying not to pry.

She looked down into her cup and smirked bashfully. "Next question, please."

"Okay, so tell me about Mary," I said. It occurred to me that I know strangely little about the woman in her own words.

"I'm going to be 42 on September 1," she said, "Where does the time go? Married for 15 years. Together for 21." She got a faraway look as she seemed to contemplate how that was half her life.

"Kids?" I asked. "I don't mean to pry." John had once said something about a daughter, but the topic hadn't come up with Mary.

"John does, from his previous marriage. They don't speak." Mary didn't let on how she felt about that. She abruptly changed the subject. "I would love to ask Cassandra what possessed her to get all these tattoos. Look at this."

She held out her left forearm and there written in script -- amidst colorful butterflies and birds and flowers that comprised that sleeve -- were the words "BE YOU TO A T."

"Isn't that funny?" she snickered. "I keep staring at it, since it's been etched in my arm without my permission. What a thing to see when you are being someone else."

"To thine own self be true," I said, "I think that's Shakespeare."

"Polonius from Hamlet," she nodded. "Of course, he was a windbag. Among the Bard's best jokes."

"I didn't know you were an expert," I said.

"I was studying literature when I met John," she said, and got that faraway look again. "A lifetime ago."

"Multiple, some would say."

"I haven't lived a lifetime as Cassie... yet," she snickered.

We both sipped, letting that remark hang in the air. Soon after that I heard a rustle at the door and Ifena joined us and we had to get into character.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Crowded House

I want to preface this by saying I have been piecing it together over the last few days but I am aware that some crazy stuff is going on in Maine and playing out on the blog. I reached out to Ryan to see if he crossed paths with Millie and he did have information about a person that seems to have been relevant -- I've connected him with Arthur/Penny through available channels for whatever that's worth, and hopefully that helps.

All this to say, I know the experiences and tribulations of my little crew seems like the proverbial hill of beans, but in case you could use a change of pace, some of us are just out here attempting to live "our" lives. To the rest, good luck!

--

Six bedrooms. Eight bodies. Two bathrooms. Welcome back to your twenties.

Dustin, Dakota and Cassie live not far from their alma mater in a house that was built sometime between the wars, the kind of creaky, musty place without natural light and with substandard wiring that you settle for when you've finished undergrad and just need to drop your bags somewhere. There are four bedrooms up top, including Dustin & Dakota's. Cassie's is one of two in the basement. Common areas include a cramped kitchen, a front porch (mostly occupied by the cannabis users in the house) and a back deck that probably needs a few boards replaced but is otherwise quite good.

As we pulled up, I saw Mary eyeing the place. "Why do I have a feeling... I'm going to be doing a lot of sweeping and scrubbing?"

"Don't be negative, Mare," John chided.

"No, she's got a point," I said, "We're adults, used to certain standards of living. These kids are just out of school. There's a good chance we're going to feel like their parents."

"Thank you, Marc," Mary said. "I knew I liked you."

"I guess it's Dustin now," I said, "Once we open these car doors, we'll be within earshot of people who think they know us."

I could see Mary's hesitance. I certainly couldn't blame her. I do have a tendency to forget that others haven't lived with this as long as I have, aren't accustomed to going from life to life the way I've become. I wonder if it's becoming harder for me to relate to other people ... not that I ever had a really easy time with that to begin with.

"So what do we do?" Mary asked.

"We just... be," John shrugged, not doing a very good job seeming like this is new to him. "It'll be fun. It'll be like Big Brother."

Mary smiled and rubbed John's shoulder, then leaned forward from the backseat to kiss him on the cheek. I can always detect an improvement in Mary's mood when John plays optimistic -- seeing her "husband" who has become a girl adapt so quickly inspires her to be confident. If she knew the truth, perhaps that wouldn't quite be the case.

Then the doors opened and I popped the trunk. We each took our bags up the porch and -- forcing myself to pretend like I/we belong here -- I took the knob and pushed through.

We lingered a moment in the front hallway. Mary stuck her head around to the available rooms. "Not bad, not bad," she muttered to herself. The place wasn't exactly an IKEA Showroom, but it was reasonably tidy.

"What's not bad?" asked one of the girls who lives there -- from the description Dakota left, I deduced this was Ifena, a first-generation daughter of Nigerian immigrants.

"The place, it's... looking good," she stammered, obviously not accustomed to lying to a person's face like this.

"Yeah, it's because you three weren't here," Ifena smirked. "You know how PJ is."

"Right, PJ," Mary nodded. PJ, we learned from the girls' notes, is the other occupant of the basement. They are gender non-binary, which I guess kind of gives us something in common since I've spent time as both, not to mention going back and forth on my sexual orientation. But I gather that they and Dustin are not exactly close.

My sense overall is that the house mostly represents Dakota's social circle -- it's mostly girls after all -- and that Dustin is sort of an add-on, as the boyfriend.

Next to come thumping down the stairs was Jaspal, whose room with his girlfriend Madison is next to Dustin and Dakota's. He immediately slapped me a handshake and told me in bro-language about some accomplishment in some video game and I nodded like I understood.

Not long after that was the arrival of Charly, shorter than Dakota with curly red hair, who had some bags of groceries in tow. "Oh, you guys are back," she said breathlessly. I rushed over to help with one of the heavier bags, and John followed suit by making a grab at the water jug for the communal cooler -- which he immediately regretted as he was unable to heave the damn thing.

"So much for chivalry," he muttered to me after, clearly feeling embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, heaving the thing over my shoulder with ease. "I don't think anyone was expecting Dakota to be able to lift that."

"Maybe not," he sighed under his breath so only I could hear, "But it was a reality check for this guy."

I wanted to point out that he wasn't exactly a heavyweight when he was Cayden, but of course Mary was within earshot and discussing our past experience was out of bounds. I guess what he was saying that he feels like as an adult he should be a certain level of strength or whatever, and was disappointed that in some ways this body has more in common with a 10-year-old's than his grown self.

Mary rubbed John's shoulders again in comfort, and I wondered whether the others would take note of the way they were hovering near one another in a more-than-friendly way.

Those of us who were present made a communal dinner and the three of us pretty much just kept our mouths shut and observed, unless directly addressed. There weren't really questions about where we'd been -- I guess when you're twenty-two and unemployed and you want to take an extra two weeks on your beach vacation, nobody bats an eyelash, even if Cassie ended up leaving her service job over it.

--

Afterwards, I went upstairs to unpack and found "our" room -- very much a girl's room, with furniture that had probably been following Dakota for years, and Dustin more or less fitting all of his stuff into the closet. As I contemplated what-goes-where, I heard the door close behind me -- John had slipped in. Dakota can be very light on her toes.

"So..." I started to say, observing the double bed that sure did look... cozy.

"You can unclench," John said, "I'm going to sleep with Mary... for now. Cassie's bed is plenty big for two, as long as one of them is Dakota," he smiled and waved his hand over his slender figure.

We agreed that it wasn't necessary for John and I to share a bedroom to "keep up appearances" -- Dustin and Dakota are twenty-two-year-olds dating, not an old married couple. There's leeway there, we think, and if questions are raised, they could have answers that are not 'we were magically transformed into other people and it's very complicated beyond that.'

"How do you think that will go?" I asked.

"It's a win-win," John shrugged, "Cassie's quite attractive, don't you think?"

"I guess so," I nodded hesitantly -- it's clear to anyone with eyes to see, as long as you don't mind a lot of ink, but in the moment I certainly wasn't going to push the point hard.

"And she keeps telling me how cute I am, you know, when she brushes my hair and helps me pick out an outfit. Perhaps there are some sparks there."

"I'm happy for you, if so," I said coolly -- I'm not entirely sure it will play out that way, but it's not for me to know.

John turned toward the full-length mirror and examined himself, his posture, his stance. He stands up straight and he's Dakota, he slouches and he's John again. "It's taking a lot of getting used to, you know. Looking like this. Being looked at like this. Come here."

I stood behind him. He guided my hands to his hips, which caused me to freeze briefly before pulling away in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to see," he tittered. "They do make a nice couple."

"Go to your wife, John," I sat on the bed, exasperated.

"After I finish putting away what few clean pairs of underwear I have left, Dustin," he snickered wickedly at me.

I laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while he worked away. A moment later, he said, "You know, if it doesn't work out in Mary's bed, I could always just camp out."

"Huh?" I sat up.

"Sure," he said with a grin, "Looks like plenty of room in tent you're pitching."

I looked down and sure enough, Little Dustin was making his presence known -- I had thought it was a little more inconspicuous. I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow, saying a muffled, "You can leave now!"

"I couldn't help myself," he said with a cackle as he left, closing the door behind. I kept my face buried and tried to clear my mind. This was a little different to what I've been used to... even as Ryan, it took a lot more to rev me up. I haven't had sex with a woman in years (since the very night of my first transformation, as it happens) and between Dustin's young body and my psyche, something got very excited about such a minor touch. Part of me -- I'm a bit ashamed to say -- was glad to be back as a "straight guy," in such a clear and decisive fashion. 

Now if only there were an appropriate way to channel that... besides the obvious.

-Marc/Dustin