Tyler/Lauren: Prom and what comes after

I had to sign a lotta yearbooks this past month.

It was tough. I ended up writing a lot of "Have a great summer" and "So many great times!" to people who knew Lauren for years but barely talked to me in my time as her. It was one of the times during this whole thing that I felt the worst... like I was stealing all these goodbyes from her. Cheating her out of closure with the people who helped form her as a person.

I did write lengthy messages to the people I spent the most time with this year. I tried to pour my heart out to Dana, Karlee, Ginnifer and Mark, but even in all those messages I had to hold back and try not to explain to them that they kept me from feeling like dirt most days, and taught me about being a girl as I went along.

I ain't that sentimental, but I'm gonna miss them.

Prom wasn't that much of a story, to be honest. It was a nice night. I wore a black dress with a modest halter top, I spent hours at the salon with the girls getting ready that day. I posed for pics, I danced my ass off, I sang along with the songs I knew in the limo and faked it for the ones I didn't. I stayed out late drinking and talking about a future that wasn't gonna be mine.

It felt like a good place to leave off as Lauren. I was with Mark. He was a bit awkward, since I had made the boundaries pretty clear and he still seemed to be carrying a torch for me. I lost my inhibitions and danced with him. It was good.

Afterward, we crashed a party. Mark reverted to his wallflower state, but I was there for him. I was surrounded by friends but I was the only person there he had any connection to, and I didn't leave his side. We joked, we shared ideas, hopes for the future.

Around 5 AM, those of us who were still up drove to the reservoir at Highland Park to watch the sunrise. He and I wandered off and sat down by the water and fell silent and the mood sort of seized me.

"I've been having a really good night," I told him. "You're gonna make some girl really lucky at college next year. Trust me, you're gonna get snatched up quick."

After a pause he said "I could be making one girl very lucky right now... if she'd let me." He had this goofy, hopeful look in his eyes.

I smiled and pinched his cheek. "You're cute, man. But did you think that would work?"

"Nah, not really," he blushed. "But it came to me and I had to try."

"It's worth this much," I said, kissing his cheek. We sat quietly for a moment and then I opened my trap: "I almost would, you know."

"Almost would... what?"

"You know," I said. I felt butterflies welling up in me. "It's been... a while. And I haven't wanted to, much, until... like, now. But it wouldn't be fair."

"Why not?" he asked.

"I'm going away soon," I said. "And when I come back, it's... better if we don't have to deal with the aftermath of this. Of that."

"Who says there would be an aftermath? I think we could be cool about it..."

I sighed, "Years of careful study, I'm afraid. You deserve better than a one-nighter anyway. I know it doesn't feel like this is for your own good, but it'll save you some emotional anguish in the long run."

I could sense he wanted to argue that, but he was a bit too meek to do so.

So I went on, "There's something else. There's someone else. Someone I've been carrying a torch for for a long time. And I can't be with them right now... not right yet. They're a bit older, but really we're... it's like we're the same age. In a way. And once they leave... their... spouse for me, we can start over together. And I've been looking forward to that for a long time."

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Holy shit... are you fucking a teacher??"

"What? No!" I laughed, and then he laughed and we started naming every repulsive teacher we could.

Eventually we settled down and he circled back in our conversation: "Why did you tell me all that?"

"Because you deserve to know," I said, "Because you've been good to me, you're a really good dude. You make me laugh. You don't give yourself enough credit, you don't believe in yourself, but when you're with me, I can tell you're something special. And just because it hasn't happened for you yet... like, you need to know the truth, that it's me, not you. All you need to do is learn to open up with everyone you meet the way you do with me, and I promise before long, you aren't going to be able to choose which girl to bang."

He blushed again. "You don't have to... I mean, don't lie."

"It's not a lie. Trust me. I've been around. You're a good kid. It's only a matter of time before people see it. Sure, it's a jungle out there... people get hurt, people don't get what they want, people don't connect when they should or they make mistakes. But eventually, if you remember to be yourself, you'll find someone." I think maybe I lost him in there somewhere.

We got rides home and hugged goodbye. I slept all morning and spent the rest of the day packing. The end was in sight. Only days later I would be in Maine with Meg waiting my new destiny. Thinking about all I had been through over the past year... everything I had written about here and everything I hadn't. The things I'd seen and done, people I'd met. It felt overwhelming and I felt sad that I had to go.

I never thought I'd make it. And I damn sure never thought I'd miss it. And it wasn't even over yet.

Tyler/Lauren: Last Leg

I'm on the home stretch. It's literally just weeks before Meg and I go back to Maine. All of our ducks are in a row, except that one. You know, the one where I get my old body back. Meg doesn't believe me when I say I'm fine with it. Maybe I don't prefer things this way, but there's no use fighting or crying. What's done is done and I can live with it, because I have to.

Meg was right about something. She told me I should write more on the blog. I was never in the mood, and for a lot of the winter, my laptop was busted so my computer usage was homework-only, but it's not like I couldn't have done it at school in the resource room on lunchbreak, or crept down to the family PC after Paul and Sue were in bed. I just didn't want to. I didn't want to talk about what was happening with me - happening to me, happening around me - because it was embarrassing and I didn't want to admit it mattered.

Anyway, what it comes down to is I want to tell a story about me, but since I wasn't blogging much in January and February (and March and...) I need to fill you in on some details.

It starts with Mark. I met him back in the fall when I worked on the school's production of Oklahoma. He liked my carpentry skills, maturity and sense of humor. I liked that he wasn't a totally obvious jerk about wanting my attention. I could've pushed him away better, for his own good, and if he knew the truth about me he'd probably run screaming. I didn't feel anything that I would identify as attraction toward him... appreciation for his awkward charm, maybe, but it's not like he overwhelmed my now-girly hormones to the point where I couldn't keep my drawers on. Besides, I was, and am, in love with someone else, on a level I could never feel for Mark. It was that person I was thinking about as I laid in bed at night unable to sleep, that person I imagined myself holding and being held by.

"It's just a crush," I said, "He'll get over it." The problem was, I wasn't helping, more like I was encouraging him. I'm a pretty solitary person, but life can be lonely when you don't look like yourself and are stuck in the world of teens. Dana, Karlee and Ginnifer weren't enough, because as nice as they were, they were not my people. Compared with Mark, I couldn't be myself. I couldn't talk movies, music or politics with them. If I let my goofy side out, they'd look at me like I'd gone insane. Meg is "my people," but I had limited access to her, and she has expressed disapproval whenever I get flirty around here. Then in the middle of this crisis of mine, she went through a crisis of her own.

We fought a bit about that. I didn't like her behavior, I didn't think she was capable of something like that. It shocked me and bothered me and I wasn't mature about it, but neither was she.

All through January, before the line was crossed, when she was musing idly about "I'm thinking about Mykal again, I can tell he likes me, what should I do?" I was already getting fed up. I wanted to tell her how wrong it would be for her to lead Mykal on in any way, but I held her in too much esteem to get real with her and use tough language - instead of "That would be idiotic and selfish" I simply said "That sounds like a bad idea." She didn't listen. And me, I was too busy pursuing bad ideas of my own.

Mark became my shoulder to cry on, all winter. Anytime I needed to get out of the house, I would invite myself over to his. Anytime Meg was annoying me I would vent to him. Then he would wrap his arms around me, pretend he had any idea what I was babbling about, and tell me I was right even when I wasn't.

He knew not to try to kiss me.

He was just... really good. For a while.

But you can only really drag someone along like that for a short time before they start to ask questions. Like "Why aren't we dating?" "Why are you so comfortable pouring your heart out to me but you won't let me kiss you?" "How long do you expect me to put up with this?" "What do you want from me?"

By February, he would take longer to answer my texts and I would get irritated. "Come on, man, don't leave me hanging" I would nudge him to answer.

"I don't owe you my attention" he answered back.

"We're friends," I said back, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. Just friends."

Fine, be that way.

Around this time, I had this revealing conversation with Phil about how boys and girls can't just be friends. You'd think "Oh, Tyler, you have a man's brain, you don't need insights from a kid who's lived a decade less than you." But sometimes you need guidance from outside your own situation. I don't remember ever being "just friends" with a girl by choice at that age. I'm sure it's not impossible, but if I liked the girl I wouldn't settle for it.

Mark was my shield. When I was with him, boys didn't target me, Meg's shit didn't bug me. The girls teased me a bit, but all in all I felt better. I wanted to keep that going, but I couldn't make the concessions Mark wanted. I couldn't let him touch me because that would start something I couldn't and wouldn't be able to see through. It wasn't fair, even if he didn't understand why.

So we stopped being friends.

Then I went on Spring Break and found out I was not getting my body back. And when I came back I felt like I had nobody to talk to - I didn't want to open up to Meg, I didn't have Mark, nobody could understand. I wanted to forget, I wanted to take my anxiety out on somebody.

And there was Phil. Living in my freaking basement.

I was having a bad day. Nothing but bad days at that point. He came home to find me loading up a gym bag - I needed to go punch something. "How are you getting there?" I say I'm taking the bus. He notes that I'm a small girl with a rather heavy bag on my shoulder and he has a car. Okay, fine, let's go. He grabs his bag too.

We hit the heavy bags. He commends me on my stance - "You sure don't throw a punch like a girl." I point out that Ronda Rousey exists.

I don't know how we got from there to his bed. It was like a Jedi mind game (yes, I know the term is "trick" but this was worse.) I was so hopped up on adrenaline I just felt like if it was ever going to happen, it would be then. He was kissing me and feeling me all over, I was kissing him back slightly, the voice in the back of my head saying it was wrong starting very quiet, drowned out by the impulse to let it play out... until the voices switched. I just barely had time to come to my senses before I got all the way naked. "No, no, no. Stop. Stop now. I don't want this."

"What do you mean? At the gym you were practically begging for it."

"This is the problem!" I cried out, "Every time I get within hollering distance of a man, he thinks I want his body. I don't. no offence, Phil, you're... cool and all, but this is not what I'm interested in."

"You're a fucking tease," he sneered. "Every day you leer at me, I can tell you're thirsty for it."

I don't remember ever leering. That's all in his head.

I screeched, "I can't have one off day without some dude begging me for sex, then acting like I'm the one with the problem because I don't want it! Get over it, Phil! Go find someone else to fuck!"

He called me a bitch, we didn't talk much after that, and I was alone again.

I broke down and mended fences with Meg and told her all about the new Tyler. I told her this changed nothing - I wasn't going to be Lauren Sherman one second longer than I have to, and I hoped things could go back to being okay between us. She assured me they could... and went on at length about how bad she felt for what she had done to Wade, and to me.

I told her she didn't have to be so hard on herself. People make mistakes. She's only human. It's not like I was never tempted.

"I wouldn't have blamed you," she said. "I know you think you have to resist because you're a man, but I wouldn't think any less of you if dated a boy."

"It's not that," I said. "Boy or girl, there's only one person I want to be with."

She hates it when I say stuff like that. She always tells me we'll have that conversation later. Later will have to be soon.

Things started to get better, and that brings us to my more recent posts. After clearing the air with Meg, and straightening up at school, I reached out to Mark. It started when I went to see the school production of The Importance of Being Earnest. Meg came too, explaining some of the Oscar Wilde background for me, how it was a satire of the London social scene or whatever. It didn't totally land with me, but I guess I kinda related to it, with the putting on false identities and all.

Afterwards, I said hi to some of the friends I had left over from my drama club days, working my way over to Mark, who was helping strike the set.

We struck up a conversation, I kind of apologized for not helping out with the play this semester. He caught me up on stuff with him, and before I knew it it was like the drama between us never happened. He seemed too embarrassed to even mention his behavior.

He asked me about my plans for Prom, and I said that I had a limo booked with the girls and their boyfriends. He said he wasn't sure what he was doing.

"You know..." I said sheepishly, "Plenty of room in the limo... for friends."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

When you're a man it's easy to get bitter about chicks who won't date you. I think Mark and I both kinda absorbed this same lesson about how if you can't be with someone, sometimes it's better to swallow it and keep them as a friend rather than cutting them out. If they mean that much to you.

Life gets lonely as hell sometimes.

Tyler/Lauren: Cutting class

I've thought about this over the last month. I'm still Tyler inside, no matter what. The fact that I will never be able to look my old face in the mirror again is insignificant. Maybe someday I'll take a new name, but that day is far off.

My life resembles Lauren's a lot more than Tyler's, of course. But most of all since Spring Break it's mostly resembled one of those zombies from the Walking Dead. Shuffling around, not really paying attention, just barely surviving.

After unloading to Meghan, and then to you guys, I feel a fair bit better.

I'm on track to pass, and would technically graduate if Lauren wasn't already registered for next year. She needs biology to get into nursing school - still her objective - and there was no way I was taking it for her. The parents are of course baffled that I didn't just take it this year. I lied and said there was a scheduling error. They said I should fight to correct it, then I said it felt more sensible to come back for an extra semester when "I" could focus on it more.

Just because I'm going to pass doesn't mean I'm doing well. I'm doing the bare minimum in some of these courses, skipping classes when it feels convenient to do so.

One day last week, when I was still somewhat in a funk, I went all the way to school, signed myself out - as is my right as a now-18-year-old - and came home. I laid in bed, just thinking about what as going to become of me in the next months, when I heard the door open downstairs. What the hell? I thought. Both the parents were supposed to be out. Phil had moved out at the end of April. I should have had a few more hours alone.

I heard a voice - a soft, girlish one - "Hello? Laur, you here?"

I poked my head out.

It was Karlee, Lauren's friend from school.

"What are you doing here?"

"We've got that history presentation due on Friday," she said. This would have been Wednesday, I guess.

"Oh my God," I sighed, "I'm so sorry for bailing. I've been feeling really rough lately."

"I got that," she said a bit solemnly, "I'm not gonna pretend I'm not mad that you've been ditching school so much lately, but I know things aren't always easy for you."

That's true. In junior year, Lauren was in the full brunt of an eating disorder - it was an open secret, and something I had to deal with when I got here. To most onlookers, she's made quite a rebound. In reality, down in Houston, things have gotten better for her, so I'm hoping she doesn't relapse upon getting her body back.

Obviously, that has nothing to do with why I skip school so much, but if it helps her understand my issues, I don't correct her.

"We're all pretty stressed out here, Lauren," she said, "If you need help, all you have to do is ask. I didn't really come to work on homework."

"I appreciate that," I said. "I'll be fine, I just... I can't deal some days."

I've never been good at admitting when I need help. At relying on others. Even Meghan. But I was really glad to see her.

I wrapped my arms around her. I didn't tell her I was going through some stuff she couldn't understand.

We didn't talk about it. We didn't talk about my problems or even that much about our history project. We gabbed like a couple of girls - she dished on Seann, Lauren's ex I set her up with months ago, who she's been on and off with since. I let her dow most of the talking, about summer, about the future, about girls a school who think I'm just a fake bitch but who are, themselves, pretty fake.

I didn't feel like Tyler, or Tyler pretending to be Lauren, I felt like this third person that I'm gonna become.

The day wore on. I walked her home. She spilled that she thinks Mark is still planning to ask me to Prom, even though our communication has been low since I quit drama club this semester.

"There's no quit in that kid," I smiled, "Gotta admire that."

As we got to her place, she took me by the hand. "Don't disappear on me again, okay? If you need to talk, I'm always just a text away."

"I'll remember that," I said. We hugged and parted ways.

I passed the school on the way home. There was a flyer up for the school play. The Importance of Being Earnest, on June 4-6.

Tyler/Lauren: Wing-woman

I had an invite to hang out with the girls (and guys) tonight, but I don't have the energy. Usually I'm all too happy to go out in the evening, get away from the family, blow off some steam. Granted, even after months living among them, spending too much time around teenage girls makes my head spin: they talk fast, they emote big, they have very extreme opinions about things I know aren't important. It's hard to keep up, but I usually put myself through it because based on what I'm going through right now, that's the closest thing I have to friends, besides Meghan of course. It's important for me to be around these people so that I don't feel like such an outcast among people "my own age" ... as if that phrase means anything anymore.

No, I needed a break, and while they called me a party pooper (well, not in those words: actually they said "weak-ass bitch" but, you know, lovingly) they didn't bug me too long. Only Mark has been texting me updates, and I've been giving him courtesy responses.

Mark. Despite what I said about selfishly keeping him to myself, I had no intention. I thought maybe I would be unenthusiastic about talking him up to Dana, assuming she would think she was too good for him. I'd suggest she give him a chance, but didn't expect to get far with it. I just think he's a good enough dude that he deserves to have, you know, a girlfriend in high school. I know guys who don't date in high school sometimes get, like, complexes about it later in life. I wanted to give him a push.

He had told me I was the first girl he felt comfortable around, that he felt like he could be himself. I told him there was nothing special about me (strictly speaking this is maybe not true) and that girls - the right girls for him if not every girl ever - would appreciate his goofy personality and smarts. If I was going to wingwoman him, I needed to make sure he was up to the task.

I brought him around our lunchtable a little bit. Once the girls had met him a bit, and I had coaxed a bit of group conversation time, let him ease his way out of his shell, I took Dana aside and asked her what she would think if Mark asked her out. She was iffy on the subject, saying she wasn't really into relationships. Fair enough. I expected that, and prepared to adjust my plans.

Then a day later, she amended her statement: "You know, I don't wanna date your friend Mark, but I'd blow him."

I'll never get used to that. I ain't old-fashioned or anything, I know girls who openly discuss sex, but to hear a girl that age flatly say that she'd be all too happy to engage in sexual acts outside of a relationship, without having to be coaxed into it somehow, just didn't add up in the part of my male brain that has always thought women were relationships first, sex later. This little vacation of mine has shattered plenty of stereotypes I hold about women and girls. What's more, it activated the "responsible adult" part of my brain that made me ask what they hell she was thinking offering that to a guy she barely knows. Shoot, I was thinking they could go for ice cream or something (bad example, this weather is not ice cream appropriate! Brr, how do northerners live?) Not third base!

I was going to tell her "Oh if that's all you want maybe I'll find him someone else" but what kind of friend would I be if I made that decision for Mark? 17-year-old Tyler Blake would have high-fived so hard if one of his friends got a no-strings-attached blower from a girl who looks like Dana. I was stuck.

So I excused myself, told him to pursue Dana because "there's potential there" and opted to spend the night in my room wrapped in three layers of blankets. I'm not sick or anything... I've just been grappling with some personal issues stemming from my "double life," and... I don't know, a night off from being "Lauren" seemed inviting.

Hiding from my problems isn't my usual tactic though so I don't wanna make it a habit.

Tyler/Lauren: A month off

Now where was I...

Some stuff has happened in the last month or so since I posted, and yet for a long time there was just nothing to talk about. The production of Oklahoma happened, along with some socializing, but nothing I think you'd be interested in hearing about. Mostly I'm trying to keep a low profile, be a "good girl..." no more picking fights with Lauren's parents, doing my best by her friends, and trying to treat myself when I can. The lack of drama this has caused is a pretty good thing, although it also means I don't bother checking in with you guys much.

There was the situation with Mark, for instance. I was pretty firm with him, telling him "no." I didn't even want to leave any doubt, any hope in his mind that things might change, so I've been very careful to keep a courteous, respectful, almost "professional" barrier between us as we worked toward the play.

It worked and didn't. I should know (and Meg is not shy about reminding me that this applies to me) you can't just switch feelings for somebody off. Mark can respect my feelings on the matter - he seems to - he's all too happy to keep in contact with me, to be my friend. Fine, great, I could use a male friend. But I know he's looking at me, I know he thinks I'm cute and I've got a good body. I know sometimes he's too nervous to say what's on his mind around me. I know that if I said the word - if I were really Lauren and somehow developed feelings for him - he wouldn't hesitate to say yes.

I've made my peace with that, with being wanted.

November 17 2014, the day Tyler Blake admitted he understands teenage boys are going to find him attractive. This, no matter how much I let my appearance go. I don't like it, but I've got to get over it because it's a fact of my life. Let him look me over, let him barely suppress his fawning, let his head turn to glance at my ass as I walk away. I don't mind, I can't mind - as long as he doesn't try to kiss me, we're fine.

I'd like to find him a girlfriend. I've actually had some success at that... I finally hooked Lauren's ex Seann up with Karlee. He made an impression on her back in the summer and then played it off, but she was obviously pretty taken with him. He wasn't exactly waiting for my blessing, he just wanted a bit of fun without any expectations, but Karlee would not shut up about how dreamy he was once she found out I had no problem with her crushing on him, so I convinced him that it would be good for him. She's a nice chick, if a bit dizzy.

Now that leaves me with a problem. Most of my social circle is becoming couples, and I don't want to become the odd person out. I would like to hook Mark up with Dana: they have some common ground, with Dana being the star actress and Mark being a theater techie. But I like having Dana as my single friend, and given Mark's status compared to hers, it would probably take some convincing anyway.

Then there's this really nagging thought in the back of my head, like... it's nice to keep Mark to myself. I'm never going to convince him he doesn't have a chance. If I push him away, I might lose his friendship. What's worse, and weirder, is that it's flattering: this guy I don't hate is interested in me. If I were into it - and I don't see this happening but in an absolutely desperate scenario if things changed and I suddenly became interested... it would be nice to have him around. I don't doubt I could find some other guy's attention... a bit of makeup, a little hair maintenance and the right outfit is all it takes to make me a knockout... but keeping him in my back pocket is tempting. Totally evil but tempting.

In the end, that's why it's better if I do push him away, so I don't take advantage of his friendship or give him false hope that that might happen.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of problems I'd be having if I wound up as a 17 year old guy. Would I hesitate to pursue teenage girls? Would I have as much trouble with my body? Or would I just sit back and enjoy the ride?

Wish I could, but it's a bumpy one.

Meg/Tasha: Try the eggs.

I noticed a shift in Tyler's mood this past Sunday when we met for our usual brunch. He was drumming on the table as if he had some song in his head only he could hear. He seemed to have a bit more pep than usual. I'm not saying the guy's a sad sack, but he's got enough on his shoulders that I usually forgive him for being in an unenthusiastic mood.

"What can I say?" he said as our plates arrived, "I feel like I'm finally making it work."

"Uh huh?"

"School's going okay, the play's fun, I'm even getting along a bit better with Lauren's parents now that I'm out of the house more often. Things are just... clicking, lately, as much as they could be expected."

"And your little friend?" I asked.

"Hm?" he forked some eggs into his mouth, "Who would that be?"

"You know," I said, sipping my coffee, "That Mark kid."

"Oh, you know," he said, averting his eyes to the parking lot out the window, "I handled it. I was straight up with him and he, uh, seems to have gotten the message."

"You handled it," I repeated.

"Yeah," he insisted.

"Just like that, you explained yourself, and now he's over you. That simple. It's over."

"Sure," he said, "Why not."

I took a bite of my grapefruit, then said, "Just like how I told you I didn't want to date anyone when we first met, and your feelings for me evaporated."

The sound of cutlery dropping on the table. He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes were as angry as I've ever seen them. I felt like I had made a mistake, but it had to be said.

"Careful," he said sourly. I could tell he was trying to deepen his voice, to summon "Tyler" from deep within "Lauren."

"You know how guys are sometimes," I said, somewhat venting my own experiences, "You tell them no, and even if they respect it, it's not like it flips a switch and turns them off you. It takes time, and I'm just warning you here, it may take more than one 'handling.' This isn't like some jock who just wanders up, tries his luck, and mutters bitch under his breath when you turn him down. This guy feels like he knows you, he's working with you, he has a lot of face time with you. I don't think he likes Lauren, I think he likes you. You have a responsibility to act in a way that doesn't lead him on, doesn't make him feel like you're playing hard to get or that you might come around if he's patient."


"Why is that my responsibility?" he said indignantly, squirming in his seat.

I knew he knew the answer, but I said it anyway, "Because guys suck. They're kinda great sometimes, but they suck so much more than they're great. And until you get your old body back, they're not going to leave you alone."

"Don't mention my old body," he said bitterly.

"If I were in your position," I said, "I might have told Mark I was a lesbian. Or transgendered, even. I mean your exact position, not if I was personally trying to... yeah. That's basically the truth for you."

"Yeah," he sighed, "But it isn't the truth, is it? It doesn't feel like the truth."

I waited for him to elaborate on that, but he didn't. He pushed his half-eaten plate away, saying he was now too annoyed to eat. "Tell me something good," he said. "Tell me about things with Wade." I smile, now that we're at the part of the meal where he feigns interest in girl-talk.

"Things are... goooooooooood..." I start to say, drawing out the last word with uncertainty. I'm always wary of playing up the good times with Wade due to the imbalance in Ty's and my situations. But if I overcorrect and complain too much, he starts to wonder why I bother. I think it helps that, the more Ty has spent time with Wade, the more he seems to reluctantly approve of him. He might even like the guy more than I do.

Not hard to see why. Wade's a grown man with no romantic interest in Tyler, because he's got me. Ty is a little older, mature and a bit smarter than Wade, (certainly more worldly since he's been through this, not to mention various other experiences) but the two seem more or less equal and have even found a bit to bond over. Wade's in that sweet spot of being able to treat Ty basically how he wants to be treated, without the baggage of knowing who he really is.

For my own part, it's a good thing I don't like him more, because that could be trouble, but to be honest... things are going well. He's actually noticed how I've been kind of down about this waitressing thing and how I wish I could be doing something else with my life. He offers suggestions, he offers sympathy... it's sweet.

The bedroom stuff is... a business transaction we both benefit from. Sometimes Ty seems like he wants to know about it, but I know he really doesn't.

I changed the subject again to the weather, a favorite subject of his - he can't stop talking about how cold and dreary it's been around here, and sometimes he seems irritated by that - a quick glance at the weather app indicates it's about 80 in Alabama - and sometimes it seems like a fun novelty to have to wear overcoats. He has a particular bit of material about how excited he is to wear long sleeves and layers and have nobody second-guessing his motives. "Scarves!" he laughs, "Who the hell knew?" Um, every woman, sweetie.

I tell him dressing my body is proving problematic. I haven't been as "good" as he has, putting on a bit of booty-weight since we got here. I'm sorry, there's a little curvy girl in me and she wants cake sometimes. I half-thought it would just go to my breasts anyway (not that that would be preferable.) I tell him he's lucky to be so consistently thin, and he admits that's convenient, but we both know there's more to it than meets the eye. We're just not talking about it. Meanwhile between us, half a plate of eggs grows cold.

I asked if he wanted to go jeans-shopping with me and he consented... after all, what else does he have to do?

Sure, he rolls his eyes, but I see him getting nice and cozy with the sales racks. Having learned how to dress Lauren-ish, he's looking to expand, maybe even redefine. He just doesn't have the money to do so. At the very least, it's clear he looks at shopping as a "feminine" activity he is in some way obligated to try learning. He's not, but it's cute.

Tyler/Lauren: Mark

So I was invited to this party on Friday night by my friend Mark, who I've gotten to know since signing up to do tech stuff for this theater production of Oklahoma. We've worked closely enough together that I feel like he's an alright guy, but at the same time, I'm not an idiot. I know he pushed for me to come along because he's probably nursing a bit of a crush on me. I've been in this life long enough to know that boys look at this body with desire.

I can't blame them. I don't encourage them - I dress modestly and act pretty neutrally toward them - but I know that guys at that age are capable of taking any remotely positive interaction and turning it into an infatuation. Now, I've been hit on casually, I've had my looks remarked on, and I've been called a bitch for turning guys down. It doesn't bother me. These guys are nothing to me, and the plan to keep them at arm's length was working.

Then Mark.

Mark is a good dude. He's not overly macho, he seems respectful. At first, I paid him little attention, the way I do all the guys around here, but I guess you can't have the barrier up 100% of the time, and he caught me on a good day and we got to talking about music, which led to a really nice conversation about Queen. The only reason I could tell he had a crush on me is because he went out of his way to hide the fact that he had a crush on me, making any threadbare excuse to make conversation with me that he could, and I got to feeling safe around him so I let him. Dang.

Eventually, I caught onto what he was thinking, and it wasn't hard. He started to seem pretty clearly nervous when we'd be one-on-one, and then there was his insistence that I go to this party. And I feel for the kid, so rather than no-show (and basically torpedo my chances of being "in" with these people,) I went. I guess I'm just a social guy at heart.

Friday night, I stressed over what to wear. I wanted something comfy and un-provocative, so I ended up with a black t-shirt under a grey cardigan and jeans. No make-up.

I went over to the girl whose house it was with Dana, my friend who's the female lead. I didn't feel comfortable arriving alone because not only do I not really know these people, I don't even know if Lauren really knew them much, they certainly don't seem to have thought much of her. There was various people from the cast and crew, a few beers and some liquor going around, but it wasn't some crazy drunken madhouse. It was just a lot of deflated kids playing video games and drinking games under the roof of a set of real permissive parents.

Mark noticed me as soon as I arrived - he had been playing Xbox and passed the controller to someone else to greet me. Yeah, subtle. He offered to get me a drink, and I said I wasn't sure if I was going to drink tonight.

I'll address the alcohol issue right now... for obvious reasons, I have indulged a fair bit since I've been here. I try not to get trashed, especially since Lauren's little body can't candle it the way my real one can. But that's on my private time, mostly, with Meg or "the girls." While I don't really have much problem with underage drinking, actually participating with them seems as inappropriate as dating. Still, it was a tough social situation, and maybe if I was feeling tense I could get a beer later.

Mark and I hung out near the fringes of the party, and we had a conversation that kind of danced around the topic. I gave him a chance to come clean by asking him what girls he was into, and he played it off like he didn't have anyone in particular in mind. I said there was plenty of girls at the party, and he said "Yeah... there sure is" kinda half-heartedly. Then he picked a loose hair off my sweater.

I officially needed a drink.

Once I had one beer's worth of confidence in me, I decided it was time to drop the hammer. I asked him if he wanted to take a walk, and of course he did. Once we were out of the house, he got real quiet, and I took my opportunity.

"Hey man, just so you know," I said, "I know you're into me."

He was flustered. "No, what? Um, I... yeah, a little, I guess?"

"I'm not gonna lie," I said, "I'm flattered as hell. You're the first guy I've met in a while who doesn't suck. I mean that. But I'm really, really not the girl for you. I'm just... not in dating shape right now, you know? It's not about you, it's just me."

He took a moment to process this. "Is this because of what happened last year?"

Now "what happened last year" is something I know about but haven't said much on this blog, but maybe later if I'm comfortable, I'll tell you some more of Lauren's backstory. But everyone at school know it.

"Partially," I said, "I mean, it's a complicated thing, there's a lot of reasons. But I want to be your friend. Hell, I want to help you find a girl. I just need you to know that between you and me, this isn't happening. Are you okay?"

Another long pause, "Yeah... I guess I'm okay."

We got back to the party, and Mark gave me some breathing room, although the mood was changed between us. He seemed to sulk, and I felt bad, but it was beyond me control. This was the first guy I've had to turn down that I felt guilty for, because I think if I was really the girl he thinks I am, he would've been in good shape. Then again, it's not like the real Lauren would have given him a shot either, so it's kind of a mercy.

I went home with Dana and slept in her bed, but I was up all night wishing I was still a man and that she was a grown woman. The events of the party haunted me for the rest of the long weekend.

The worst part for me is that I halfway considered it. Mark's a harmless enough guy, and we get along fine considering the age gap. He would probably worship me, and that would be my defense against other guys. And if I told him I couldn't do certain things, he'd probably respect that because he'd feel lucky to be with me... but he wouldn't be lucky, he'd be screwed. Because whatever I think of him is really the most non-sexual, platonic friendship I can imagine, and I know he's thinking of me on a whole other level. Whatever would happen between us would purely be using him, deceiving him, completely disregarding his feelings.

And look, I tease Meg sometimes for continuing Tasha's thing with Wade. He's a decent guy, and if she has no problem with it then I don't (or at least, I try not to.) She was put in that situation and she wants to do right by Tash. Me, I want to do right by Lauren and that means no. And I want to do right by Mark, and that really means no.

He should do fine. He's tall and thin, and he's... I dunno if I'd call him handsome but he's got okay features I guess? Look, I'm new at this, and I still don't know what I'm into. That's not a joke. All these kids look like, well, kids to me, so to even suggest I'm attracted to any of them is out of the question, and while that goes doubly for the guys I'd be lying if I said it didn't apply to the girls. As much as I enjoy the company of the girls, and can see how pretty they are, I'm not exactly tripping over my tongue around them either. I've been in the company of girls in gym class (and overnight stays) and all I see are these half-formed bodies that are close facsimiles of adult women, but not quite ready for the world. That includes my own appearance. There's urges... and a lot of loneliness... but that's fighting my rational side, which knows it's smarter to say no. It's hard to feel sexy, or to have sexy feelings for anyone else, when you're stuck in the middle of this.

Tyler/Lauren: Theater

So, I haven't posted much lately... I don't want to say it's because life's gotten soooo busy, but there's definitely a little less room in my life to sit down with the computer and rattle it all off. I'm spending more and more time at school helping to work on the play (which opens November 6) and when I come home, I don't exactly have much personal time and space. I still share a room with Kylie, and if she's around... I don't know, I feel downright odd sitting here going on about how I'm a grown man in a teenage girl's body. It's the truth, but the moments where I face up to it, I kind of want to be alone.

Being involved in this play, even in sort of a tangential way, has been pretty good for me. It gets my mind off of things and puts it toward things I can put my hands on, although it was a bit of a rough start. When I first arrived for the meeting, everyone there looked at me like I was lost. "What's she doing here?" Lauren is known to be the type of person who would rather be on the stage than doing the heavy lifting. But I've decided for the time being that the limelight isn't for me... no singing lessons, no pageants, nothing that puts me in the position where a large group of people get to judge me.

I'm slowly starting to get into he theater culture around the school... wearing "show blacks," painting sets, helping to acquire props. I've become sort of an all-purpose "go-to" girl, since most of the six or so kids volunteering already had jobs they were good at, I've been going where needed, and doing my best to troubleshoot. I asked if I could help do the lighting but apparently that's a specialized job and obviously I'm not ready for it yet... although I think the girl who is doing the lighting is very protective of her position.

In fact, the "techies" are quite a very tight-knit bunch. I guess that's the thing in high school, you find out who is into the same thing as you and you don't let go of them. Most of them have been working on productions together for years, and I'm the interloper - again, I seem to have floated down from another part of the school, and while the cast and crew mostly get along, there's still an unevenness, like the techies make actor jokes, and the actors ignore them. Since one of my better friends is the female lead, I have to be careful.

One of the guys, Mark, asked me about that while we were painting a backdrop to look like a farm. "Why didn't you audition? You usually go out for these sorts of things. Hell, the way you've been doing a southern accent lately, it's like you were trying to get into character."

I wanted to answer that. I thought I was losing my accent, nobody seems to comment on it lately. But instead I moved on. "It... seemed less stressful this way," I stammered, "I've had kind of a hard year."

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"It's personal," I said. "Really personal."

"If I bring you liquor for the party Friday night after rehearsal, would you tell me about it?"

I groaned. "I can get liquor from my big sister... and I wasn't planning on going to the party Friday night." I didn't even know they were having one.

"Oh come on," he said, "Everyone's going. You gotta."

I bit my lip. "I dunno, I'm trying to keep out of trouble."

"Come on," he said, pleading but in a nice way, "You'll have fun."

I doubted that. Parties are very stressful for me lately. I worry about my own behavior and everyone around me... I understand kids will be kids, yet as an adult with a good sense of what can go wrong, I'm never really comfortable. As much as I misbehaved in my teens and never worried much about the consequences, as an adult that'd kind of all I see.

But they're going to do it anyway, and my alternative is sitting at home watching TV with the parents. I'm in this situation, I have this social group, I should probably embrace it, or else I'll just go on moping about it. It's never as bad as you think.

"Maybe," I said.

Louisa: Road Trip - Everything's Connected

I'd like to say the title of this post refers to some greater truth that Jessica and I have discovered here in the American West, where you can drive for hours without seeing much in the way of human settlement, but I'm afraid it refers to something more - well, not prosaic, but decidedly human. Jessica and I have been going back and forth over whether or not to post about it the past couple of days, figuring it might be wiser just to mail Arthur, Ashlyn, Darren, Jeff, Jaci, and the others privately, but we figure this is better; we know there are other people like us who read this blog and this is worth knowing. The rest of the world should probably know, too, but of course they won't believe it. We barely do.

Dex Langan was part of Arthur and Ashlyn's group. We met the "new" Dex toward the start of our trip, in Washington, and we've been trying to get in contact with the original for a while. We didn't think it would be that difficult; after all, Jessica had found a lead on him/her even before I'd ever gone to that inn.

It took some doing, though. He'd become Kayla Johnson, so we started in her hometown. We found her parents easily enough, but they didn't have much to say. They hadn't heard from their daughter in over a year; it was as if once she'd finished college she decided she didn't have any more use for her family. Jessica asked if she had any friends in town who might still be in contact with her. "Not according to Kayla."

Detective work it was, then. That meant another public library; I joked with Jessica that I was spending more time in these places than I did when I was in my old life, working as a school librarian. She laughed and said it would be a tragedy if these places ever disappeared completely, to be replaced by the internet and e-books and the like. The internet is not very good at being local, for instance, and even the biggest monitor and best user interface can merely approximate how well spreading a bunch of information out in front of oneself can be.

(This, as my old English teacher friends would point out to her students, is what they call foreshadowing.)

We got lucky in that Kayla is a nice photograph and was involved in a bunch of activities in high school. There were plenty of pictures of her in her school's yearbooks, not just "official" club portraits, but candids and collages. Jessica was methodical about seeing who she stood near for both National Honor Society and field hockey, and then flipping through the book to see who she was standing near in the candids.

This was five-year-old information about Kayla, as opposed to Dex, but it gave us some people to talk to. A number had moved away after college, and a couple really weren't that close to her, but we hit the jackpot with her high school boyfriend.

Johnny Farmer had looked nice in his yearbook pictures and had matured into a handsome adult. His family actually did have a farm, and a couple women our apparent age looking for him made him feel good. We decided to go with the reporter story again - only this time, Jessica had printed out some business cards for me. Simple things reading "Marie Desjardins, Freelance Journalist" along with my cell number and email address; Jess said people respect the no-frills approach and being a freelancer means no-one asks why I have a generic Yahoo! address rather than globeandmail.ca or something. He was a little disappointed that our "story" was about Kayla rather than him, but admitted that there was a story there.

According to him, she had come back home to get her things en route to her new job after being in Maine a couple weeks longer than expected, but everyone noticed how erratically she was acting. She stayed in a hotel rather than her parents' house, she didn't drop in to see old friends. He had run into her by chance, in a bar, and been confused by the way she acted - she had almost never been one to drink enough to get hammered, and while they'd talked amicably enough, she had completely freaked when he made some innocent comment that referenced their prior relationship. She made a big enough scene for them both to spend a night in lock-up, and when her parents were brought in...

Dex had told the truth. All of it. And, of course, it just bounced right off people. Johnny said that she made some comment about it not just being Maine, that this was bigger than anyone thought, and a lot of stuff that didn't make any sense.

There'd been brief talk about having her involuntarily committed, but upon hearing that, she'd started acting, if not normal, then less hostile. After a few days, she left town for her posting with the Forest Service. She didn't write, call, have her mail forwarded, or do anything else. She didn't even come home for the holidays, and don't think that wasn't a sore spot with her family. It was no wonder the Johnsons gave us the deep freeze when we came to talk about Kayla.

Johnny gave us the location of her post, and asked us to mention him to her if she decides to talk to us. We do, and head out again.

December is not the greatest time to try and visit a National Park in a cold-climate state, especially if you're driving an old car like Jessica's without four wheel drive. (Actually, December is not the best time to do anything up north. I can't wait until we reach Pasadena!). We tried to get hold of Dex/Kayla by phone, but neither of us could navigate the voice-mail system. So, when we arrived at the rangers' station, we were just hoping "Kayla Johnson" hadn't been fired or transferred.

We got lucky; she was still there. We did the usual little dance: "Do I know you?" "No, but we have some mutual friends - Arthur Milligan, Jake Matthews, Jeff Miller." She was more wary than most of the people we've talked to, but was willing talk with us. Better than going into town and getting hit on by the cowboys.

She (unlike Ashlyn, I never met Dex as a man, so I have a hard time calling her "him") got really nervous when we started asking if she'd had any contact with people who knew who she really was. When Jessica showed her some of the pictures from her phone, the ones she took in Texas, Dex/Kayla took a real long look. She was weighing what we were showing her, and the fact that we just put it in front of her. "Perhaps I should show you the back room."

We followed her to the back of the little cottage, where there was a bulleting board hanging up, with pictures and photocopies of documents and different-colored pushpins and handwritten notes and strings connecting the pushpins. "Damn," I said, "you've got a wall-of-crazy straight out of the movies." And, of course, instantly felt bad about it.

But she laughed. "Don't I just?" She pointed at a couple of documents which matched names from Stephen Jeffries/Jake Matthews's address book. "But maybe it's not so crazy after all."

The three of us stood in front of the wall, just staring, and then Jessica wrote "J & S Motion Graphics" on a blank card and stuck it into the board. Dex/Kayla nodded, and then started stringing lines between it and the places he already knew about. It wasn't connected directly to the question mark at the center of the board, but there was no doubt that whoever the Feds' mystery man was, he was an investor in J & S. Dex/Kayla started adding more, finally putting Ashlyn's name up, as well as Jean-Michel's and then André Trudeau's.

We stand back and stare at the more complicated pattern, not saying anything for a bit. Jessica was the one who broke the silence.

"You weren't in Maine to investigate microbrews marketing to minors, were you?"

"No." She sat down in a chair and stretched her long legs out. "After 9/11, a lot of federal agencies were ordered to share records more closely - you know, Department of Homeland Security. Internal investigations of people in different branches of the government turned up some common leads; once we knew what to look for, we found a few more. The thing that tied them together was vacations at the Trading Post Inn in Old Orchard Beach, Maine."

So, I asked, is that what the Inn's about? Replacing people in the government?

She shook her head. "I don't think so. There's no pattern, and half the people leave their jobs afterward. I think it's more opportunistic - that someone finds people who have changed and gets their claws into them. And even after... There's stuff that looks like corruption, but no bad acts. Just people not very good at their jobs for no apparent reason. The Special Agent In Charge of the investigation thinks that's evidence of sleepers, but now..."

"It's just people in unfamiliar situations unable to tell anybody else why."

Dex/Kayla nodded at Jessica. "Yeah, at one level - but there's an infrastructure here, doing something. But it's been going on for so long - I managed to find stuff in internal investigations from forty years ago before the new me changed my password. And some of the people who left government service wound up doing stuff that just seemed random - and it wasn't just going back to their original lives; they weren't always good at it at first."

Jessica processed that. "So, what do you think is going on, knowing what we know?"

"I think someone is screwing with us. Not all of us, just whoever he takes an interest in, or maybe the ones who can help him with the ones he's interested in. He's been doing this a long time, so maybe he's been to the inn himself once or twice. Maybe he's not a he, or wasn't to begin with. Maybe he's been alive so long his brain's gotten full and he's gone nuts."

This was starting to seem too big for me, so I tried to concentrate one what I could understand and relate to personally. I pointed to one card. "Ashlyn. Why Ashlyn?"

Dex/Kayla laughed. "You've never been a guy, have you? If you had, you wouldn't ask that question."

I blushed, and Jessica laughed. "Yeah, if I were my old self... Maybe it's just a bit of fun."

"And it fits the profile. Like... There's a guy we were suspicious of in the New York INS office. Maybe he threw the monkey wrench into 'Ginessa''s and 'Nicoleta''s visas, just to see what would happen. There's documents that the guys in DC don't understand - can't understand - but make perfect sense to me. He gets off on that - sticking people into difficult situations and seeing not just what they do, but what they become."

We talked all through the night, leaving the next morning. We're not sure posting this is the right thing to do, but anybody who is in our situation reading this needs to know that Ashlyn's secret admirer appears to be into bigger things as well. Besides, now that he's apparently got someone inside the investigation of his network, he might be twice as dangerous. We don't know who he is, but we've got a name for him.

We're calling him Pygmalion.

-Louisa

Louisa/"Marie" - Road Trip: Day One in New York (and getting there)

Meeting Her

There were a number of reasons why Jessica and I knew we had to stop in New York on our cross-country jaunt, but it wound up being first simply based upon proximity.

We had to get out of Boston first, of course. By now, you've probably read Ashlyn's description of my meeting Jessica, which covers everything important. I must admit, I wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. I've worked in a high school library for years, so even though I never had any children of my own, teenagers aren't a great mystery to me. Jessica looks like a certain group of them on the surface - the high-achievers who handle a course load of subjects that most of their parents would cringe at while somehow playing a sport each season and participating in another extracurricular activity or two... And having time to talk about the latest movies and music and having lives worth gossiping about.

I've met a lot of those kids (as you might expect, they tend to hang around the library more), but Jessica is different. She's got neither the apparent belief that she can conquer the world or the insecurity that many of those teens have. She looks like them, with the too-tight jeans and clever t-shirt, but there's a disconcerting maturity and wisdom to her. When she acts like a typical teenager - like shouting "Road Trip!" when Ashlyn suggested that she could help me search for the real Marie, it's like she's imitating her apparent peers, although maybe she's just got an acute awareness of what kind of freedom from expectations she has.

I had only expected to get some pointers or a cell phone number that I could use to ask her for help, so the idea of us traveling across the country to where she's been accepted to college in Pasadena was sort of overwhelming. It was to her mother, too - she insisted on meeting me, which seemed eminently reasonable.

The two of them have a strange relationship. "Jessica" (she hasn't told any of us the name she was born with, yet) has actually lived longer than her adopted mother, and they more like best friends than parent and child sometimes. They got out a map and plotted a route that should get us to California in time for her to start classes, even figuring in a couple of weeks for unscheduled stops. When Jessica went to move some things into her car from her mother's, though, the older woman touched my hand to signal she wanted to speak with me alone for a moment.

You have to understand, she said, I don't really believe you are who you say you are. Not you, not this Ashlyn girl... I don't feel it like I do with Jess. But she does, and I hope the two of you can find what you're looking for. After eight years, there's no way I can get my original Jessie back, but if you can find out she's okay, and safe... And make sure that the girl I've got stays safe too...

I may not have had children, but I've had friends who went into crisis about their teenagers, or had trouble letting go. I've never seen it be easy.

The Drive

Jessica drove the first leg of the trip, while I handled the map. That wasn't really necessary, as it's a trip she's made a few times before, as evidenced by her knowing exactly where to find a new classic rock station on the radio dial when the one she'd been listening to faded out. After a while we ran out of things to chat about, and I started listening to a book on tape somewhere around Hartford.

Initially, we drove around the city, figuring it would be easier to find an inexpensive motel out on Long Island than in the city. One of the people from Arthur and Ashlyn's group came from the area, too, and we thought we might have some luck interviewing his "successor". We didn't, yesterday, but we did at least find a place to stay that was near a Long Island Railroad station. After a few hours in the car, it was nice to stretch out on the beds for a couple minutes.

Jessica has all of our stops planned in a notebook, with four pairs of names written on the page for "New York": Darren Bridger/Jamie Connor - recent, but potentially well-connected, might be worth a courtesy visit at least; Mark Lange/Ginessa Lopez - Blue collar guy, Peruvian immigrant actress; Vinessa Lopez/Nicoleta Fidatov - Ginessa's cousin, also from Peru; and ????/Vinny DeSantis. Mostly from "Ashlyn" and Arthur's group, or connected somehow.

Vinessa/Nicoleta

I have never been to such a large place; before staying at the inn, I was not much of a traveler. Baton Rouge is home, and New Orleans, Boston, and Montreal are big cities themselves, but New York is somehow bigger than all of them put together. I just stared out the window of the train, gawking, as we entered the city, and then even more as we actually stepped outside the station and the buildings seemed to go on forever. I confess I'd been guilty of taking the word "skyscrapers" for granted, not understanding how literally true it was.

Jessica just sort of stood aside grinning. "It is amazing, isn't it? Pity it's full of Yankee fans."

I laughed. "As far as I'm concerned, it's just full of yankees." Then I thought of something. "So, you've gone a little native, being in New England for eight years?"

"As a lifelong Orioles fan, I can hate the Yankees just as well as anybody from Boston. Although, yeah, I have sort of started pulling for the Sox. It's easier when your hometown team is so inept. I still hate the Patriots, though. Of course, I still like the Colts, too." He let me gawk a little more, until I got sick of being shoved past, and then suggested we start looking for our fellow transformees.

The easiest name to track down had been Jaime Connor; from reading the blog we knew Darren was in Tribeca, so all we needed was the phone book. Calling his/her home phone number didn't do us much good during the day. We thought about calling the newspaper, but thought better of it. We'd sent an email to the address Ashlyn had before leaving (the one registered with Blogger), but gotten no reply.

Next up was "Nicoleta Fidatov". She, at least, was listed in the phone book, although when we called the number we were told it had been disconnected. We still had an address, though, and it wasn't much trouble to take the subway there.

Nicoleta's place was sort of on the border between a good and a bad nieghborhood, a third-story walk-up. Jessica could see a light underneath the door, so started banging. "Vinessa, we'd like to talk with you."

The door opened a crack. "How... you know that name?"

"We've been to the inn too," I said.

"Come in. Habla espanol?"

We shook our heads. I said I was afraid not.

"Ah, well." She undid the latch and indicated a couple of chairs. She's pretty in that blonde, eastern European way - a very strong jaw, but kind of skinny, though I'm sure many men would find her body perfect. "You want to sit down?"

We sat. "Your English is very good," I said. "Ashlyn gave the impression you barely spoke."

She shrugged. "I had to. I can't go home. The... new me and new Mark... were married, are again... It's very confusing."

"So... you have contact with them?"

She shook her head. "No, they live in Peru now. Her... my.. visa expired, and he followed her." She started to cry. "Now they want to deport me, but I can't go to Ukraine!"

I moved to sit next to her. "Hey, don't worry... I'm sure there's something you can do."

"I do everything! The man says... The man at INS says Nicoleta did everything, and I do everything, but someone above him... Says someone has it out for us."

Jessica took her glasses off to clean them for a second. "Us?"

Mark/Ginessa

Vinessa had laughed, and asked to use my phone. She dialed a number from memory and asked about clubbing.

I'm still not used to this body; I was quite frankly shocked to find that I was almost the same size as Nicoleta. Sure, her clothes were a little tight on my new bottom and not quite so tight up top, but these things are kind of one size fits all. I felt slightly scandalized looking at myself in the mirror, but also a little impressed; it has been a while since I've tried to dress sexily, but I remember what it was like to be a young woman trying to impress the field.

Putting on club clothes just made Jessica look even younger, and we weren't terribly surprised when the bouncer shook his head at her (Nicoleta knew him, and Vinessa had inherited the relationship). "We can only let so much slide, Nic. You know how it is."

Jessica had sort of been expecting this. "I hate being under twenty-one!" she grumbled, and said she was off to see a movie. Vinessa and I went inside.

Vinessa wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as I was; she may not speak the language that well and may have grown up on another continent, but she was young and single and knows the game. We hung around and danced a little for about an hour before we heard someone call "Nic!"

Ashlyn had described Mark as being "blue collar", but that would hardly be the word I'd use to describe the person who moved across the crowded room like she was wading in shallow water. She was petite, wearing a painted-on dress with a plunging neckline and four-inch heels. She grabbed Vinessa by the hands and air-kissed her cheek. "How are you? It's been weeks?"

"Better, maybe. This is--" She gave me an enquiring look.

"Louisa."

"Nice to meet you, Louisa. How do you know Nic?"

"We've stayed at the same inn, although nearly a year apart. It's nice to meet you, Mark."

She looked surprised, but quickly gave me a hug. "Oh, god, it's so good to meet you! Who were you before?"

"Well, the way I figure it, I'm still Louisa Torrence, even if my passport does say 'Marie Desjardins' now."

"I know what you mean... It's just like that with me!" From the way she touched her chest, with a palm resting on her breast in such a way as to flash a rather large diamond ring, I was beginning to doubt it.

She noticed me staring at the ring, and blushed. "I know, isn't it crazy? But I'm sure Nic--"

"Vinessa."

"Of course. Vinessa. I'm sorry." She turned toward me to say that she doesn't have many opportunities to use real names, so referring to Vinessa as Nicoleta is sort of habit. "Anyway, I'm sure Vinessa has told you about the INS trying to deport us. Fortunately, I had just auditioned for a play, and while the producer didn't think I was right for THAT part... Probably because I didn't have any of Ginny's training... Well, I couldn't let them send me 'back' to Peru. No offense, Vinessa."

I don't understand Spanish, but I suspect Vinessa said something about Peru being glad to let her stay here.

At about ten-thirty, my phone rang; Jessica's movie was done. I told 'Mark' and Vinessa this, and Vinessa was only too glad to get out, although Mark looked a little disappointed.

To be fair, though, she didn't sulk. We met Jessica at one of the million or so pizza places that line the streets in New York, and the former guys got on like a house on fire. Within about ten minutes they were arguing about sports, and Mark seemed to practically glow when (s)he bit into a folded-over slice.

"Mmm... That is so. Fucking. Good. Don't tell my husband, though - he is not keen on the idea of me gaining weight."

More proof that Jessica used to be a guy - she apparently did not inventory Mark's jewelry without prompting, or only registered the big old ring as a sparkly thing. Or she subconsciously couldn't believe it. "Husband? You've only been a woman, what, less than a year?"

"Just about... But circumstances... Well, you know. There was some sort of SNAFU at INS and I was looking at deportation. You do what you've got to do. It's not always so bad."

We talked a bit more, but Jessica just seemed sort of stunned. I asked if they had any contact with the original Ginessa and Nicoleta, and they said no. Vinessa looked particularly pained by that, and I felt for her - she came to look for her cousin almost a year ago, still hasn't found her, but has to put up with another person taking her face and name, while the real Ginessa could be anyone, anywhere.

We took our leave of them, after a quick stop back at Vinessa's for me to change clothes. Then it was back to the train and the hotel.