Jordan/Missy Lee Yuan-wei: Me, version 3.0

So, still a girl, but Chinese again. That's something, although I'm not sure what yet.

Even for the last year, it's been a weird week and a half, with the prospect of being myself again giving way to letting Benny be "Jordan Chang" and then deciding to be Yuan-wei instead of Benny because I could do it better than Annette. On the one hand, it's like choosing from the playable characters in a game, right up until you realize that it's potentially the rest of your life this time.

And then there's Annette, who up and disappeared on our second day here so that she could try and talk Sandra into returning her life to her, to no avail.  I am, it appears, pretty shitty at being the encouraging shoulder to cry on, which is a pretty rotten deal for her, because she has been great whenever I needed help with girly shit.  She did not really get back as much as she gave out from me.

We killed the after she got back, hanging out on the beach and at the amusement park, making a trip into Portland, and fretting a bit because we just about had the Inn to ourselves until Wednesday when a bus arrived and spewed out a bunch of teenagers. I felt kind of bad for them - I may not be an old pro at this thing compared to some, but it doesn't take much thought to realize that the number of people there to change back drops as the summer goes on.

Then, after they get settled in, one comes out to the back deck where Annette and I are sitting and asks what I'm reading. I hold up my copy of A Dance with Dragons and get told that it's not good to read those kind of books, with all the sinful behavior and sorcery that is a different sort of affront to God. I just look at her and say "man, you are in for a fucking shock." She says there's no need to be crude to her and the other members of the church youth group and goes back inside.

Annette waits until this girl is out of earshot and the bursts out laughing for the first time since we got to the Inn.  "You are terrible!"

"Maybe, but is it too much to hope that a group of horny gay porn stars stayed in their rooms last?"

"They'd probably see that as some sort of divine mission."

"'True. Can the next group be a bunch of sci-fi fans who love taking selfies of their sexy cosplay, though?"

Annette just laughed. So, mission accomplished, at least there.

We spent part of the afternoon trying to surreptitiously count heads, although we knew that there wasn't much point to it; the change would happen or not without much input from us. It gives you a bit of a feeling of control, but it's not real.

Eventually, though, we did feel the sort of low-key electricity that other repeat visitors have described.  Once that kicked in, we decided to stay up and watch. Ronan had helpfully included a sketch of where he and Missy were when they changed so we didn't have to guess which side of the room to be on, which I guess is a small bit of consideration, though Annette obviously would have hoped for more.

Folks, if you ever make this trip a second/third/whatever time, bring one of those mini-projectors so you can watch a movie or fit your favorite board game into your luggage. We had a deck of cards and by 1AM I was fucking sick of losing to Annette at poker. Apparently Deirdre's face is a completely open book.

(My story and I'm sticking to it!)

Finally, at sometime around quarter past two, it was more than a tingle. I could feel a little mass entering my body, but mostly it was rearrangement. There was a pulling in of my belly that seemed to push my upper torso a bit further upward, along with a stretching feeling in my arms and legs. my hair felt like it was being tagged at, and there were a lot of weird sensations underneath my face, and I'm not ashamed to say that the pinching at the corners of my eyes was a relief that only another person who has lost their ethnicity like this could understand.

That said, it was still a bit odd to see Annette grinning as she held out her hands to see her skin get lighter. To really get the effect, she had to close and open her eyes to compare the different hues. We changed fairly quickly - five minutes or so from Deirdre to Yuan-wei in my case (although I gather that has not been the case for every group, but who knows what in the environment may have an effect on a curse) - but not quite quickly enough for it to fit into a TV commercial.  Still, looking from one spot to another, I could see the changes in Annette's face, especially as the mustache withdrew and the hair grew longer and shaggier, and the arms and legs sticking out from her shorts and t-shirt gained more definition.

Oh, and don't forget my tits.

They pushed out, a constant pressure that got more painful as they did so, until I realized that it wasn't actually my body but a too-small bra causing the pain, so I pulled up the back of my shirt, unclasped my bra, and felt it move up, sitting atop my upgraded rack.  When I looked down, I could see my tee going out and down, with my nipples making an impression on it.  I wasn't sure whether to give it my entire attention or look anywhere else.

Eventually it stopped, and while Annette looked at me appraisingly, my thoughts were more on how weird my underwear felt like this.  Yuan-wei's suitcase was between me and the door to the bathroom, and I grabbed a new bra out of it on the way to the bathroom.  The jiggle didn't quite hurt as I half-ran, but it was more than I was used to.  I pushed the door as I entered the bathroom, but not hard enough for it to close completely, as I was moving toward the sink and mirror.  I dropped the new bra on a corner, pulled my shirt and the old one off together, and then saw my reflection.

"Fuck me!"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, fine, just gotta--Fuck!"  I yelled as my first attempt to put the bigger bra on had my tits falling out of their cups before I could fasten the back.

"Need some help?"  Without waiting for an answer, Annette started crossing the room, noisy even in bare feet.  I remembered something about putting it on backwards, turning it around, and then getting "them" settled as I pulled the straps up.  I turned around just in time to see Annette enter and raise her eyebrows.  "Whoa."

I looked down, and they seemed even bigger, and then turned to look in the mirror.  Not only was the first bra I grabbed a push-up, but the cotton shorts I usually slept in were a bit tighter on my ass and my finer hair framed the stunned look on my face amazingly.  "Well, shit.  I can't see my brother ever again."

Annette looked surprised and confused.  "Why?  Do you know this girl?  I thought she was from Hong Kong."

"Not specifically, but, damn, this is exactly what Max masturbates to."

"TMI!"

"Tell me about it."

Annette pointed at the mirror.  "Mind if I--"

"Go right ahead."

I stepped back, and Annette looked in the mirror.  "Yep, that's Benny.  This is just weird.  I wonder..."  She stuck her hand in her boxers.

"Hey!"

"What?  I just want to know how big it is from this side, and it's not like you wouldn't understand!"

"Yeah, well, look, I'm just going to give you and little Benny some time to get acquainted, while I, uh, get some sleep, cuz it's late."

Funny thing - as soon as I hit the bed, the fact that it was almost three caught up with me almost immediately, and I dropped.

---

I woke up about four and a half hours later to a banging on the door.  Apparently, Benny's form slept a lot more soundly than Ravi's.  I walked to the door, still in my bra and shorts, and opened it to a couple in their twenties, or at least a couple of church kids in that form.  They both looked away from my chest, the guy pushing a piece of notebook paper at me.

"'Come to Room 6; Jordan and I have been here before and can explain.'  Ugh, did Annette write all these up and slip them under doors after I fell asleep?  Just great--"

"What sort of Satanic--"

"Oh, I, did not fucking sign up for that, chickie."  Apparently a guy before, because she flinched hard at that.  I turned and yelled Annette's name.  Nothing.  "Like a fucking rock.  Shit."

The man stepped forward.  "Look, my friend is, as  you might expect, pretty shocked, so if you could just explain what is happening."

"Let me guess - both boys last night?"  They nodded.  "Look, I can't explain the why of it, but this place is cursed, turning each group of 13 into the last group of 13 that stayed here, or at least, as they were before they changed into the 13 before that, and so on back decades.  No-one knows why or how--"

"How do we change back?"  Apparently not enjoying his first few hours as a girl any more than I did.

"--but, if you'll listen, we do sort of know enough to work the system.  If you're in another group of 13, and the folks who will get your bodies in a couple weeks are in the previous one... or I guess if you hang around long enough to be in the next group, but I've never heard of that working...  And, heck, even making plans doesn't work because this is not what I expected to come back to...  But, anyway, most folks sort of stay who they look like until next summer, because the place is absurdly well-booked for a cursed inn, but you can sort of make a reverse change."

"I'm going to be a woman until next year?"

"Yeah, deal with it, pussy; I've been one for a year and it looks like I'll be a different one for the rest of my fucking life, so shut up and listen!"

Wonder of wonders, they did.  "Look, you just go there, so maybe you didn't notice the luggage left in your rooms, but the clothes should fit, the IDs should work, and the letters should tell you what you're getting into.  If you want - I didn't go live Deirdre's life, and while I'm glad, because it would have meant pretending to be engaged to my jackass roommate in the body of her fiance, her parents did send private eyes after me and while they didn't try and kidnap me or anything, they were a real pain in the ass.

"Anyway, information's all there, although considering that there's been no whoever-you-look-like-now for the past couple weeks, it may be out of date because they've been fired from their jobs or some shit.  So, like, maybe you should get to wherever they're supposed to be and let me sleep."  And I closed the door.

Then I went and sort of pushed at Annette's more muscular abs with my foot until he stirred.  "Hey, I didn't volunteer to brief these brats on everything."

"Sorry, someone's got to, and I didn't fall asleep quite as quickly as you did."  She paused for a second.  "Wow, you're pretty."

That felt a bit weird.  It's not like I didn't get the occasional compliment as Deirdre - and let me just say, for all I wrote about Yuan-wei where all her parts were bigger or smaller as need be, it's not like Deirdre was a bad shape, especially if you like girls who might have been gymnasts when younger - but every time Annette had said it to me before, it was meant to be assuring first and foremost, whereas here I got the impression she was saying it for herself as well.

"So that's how it works; you go from Ravi to Benny and suddenly a switch flips and you're all heterosexual and hot for me?"

"What - no, that was envy!  Like, it would almost be worth going to a country where I can't speak the language and probably have people suspect brain damage because of it to look like that.  Although, I suppose that considering what happened, 'Missy' and 'Benny' have compatible pheromones or something, which is why everyone's going to think we're a couple."

"So, about that--"

"Yeah, it's going to be tricky.  We'll have to convince everybody that we decided to just be friends, but who knows how our bodies will undermine it.  But I do want to be friends; you've sort of grown on me, Jordo."

That was blunter than expected, but I rolled with it.  "Yeah, it would be weird to get to close.  That's why I'm going to Hong Kong."

Annette blinked a couple times at that.  "Oh, right, Missy's birthday party.  Well, a girl does only turn twenty once."

"Except it would be my second time."  We laughed.  "No, because it's important to to get to know the important people in our new lives, rather than just depending on each other and getting weirdly close."

She nodded.  "Yeah, that makes sense.  Isn't the plane ticket for today?"

"Yeah, and the party's Sunday, and with the international date line and stuff, it'll be tight.  I should actually probably get showered and dressed, and they check the train and bus schedules to see how to get to the Boston airport--"

"Logan."

"Right, Logan."  I looked at her, a handsome guy with more than a hint of a girl who had hit pause in some respects right after high school.  "Don't worry, Annette, Benny's friends and roommates are going to think you've suddenly become ten times as awesome in the past couple weeks."

"Damn right they will.  Although...  Could you call me 'Benjamin' from now on?  I've never been one for nicknames, and I'm afraid if you keep calling me Annette, it'll be harder to let go and I might do something stupid."

"Do you want me to call you 'he' on the blog, too?"

"Well, only after this moment riiiiiiight.... now.  It would read funny otherwise."  He shrugged.  "It's important to me.  I was going to be a writer."

"Hey, you still can, you'll have the kind of experience no other novelist does.  And you might as well call me Yuan-wei, and she, or else I might do something even stupider to Benny, er, Jordan."

"Nah, you won't.  Now, c'mon, get dressed and get gone.  Those kids are no reason to miss a party in Hong Kong!"

---

I left the Inn pretty soon after that, and I've been on trains, buses and then in planes and airports since then.  I'm over the Pacific right now, but apparently "Missy" Lee Yuan-wei flies the kind of first class where you've got wi-fi in the middle of the ocean.

Hell of a perk, and she said I could have it and everything else so she could be a suburban housewife.   But if I can't be me, this isn't bad.

-Yuan-wei (though I still call myself "Jordan" in my head)

Annette/Ravi/Benny-to-be: Getting some answers from myself

So, yeah, that hit me like a ton of bricks. If you'd told me a year or a little more than a month ago that Jordan would be any sort of lifesaver, I would never have believed it. But now, twice in one week, he's stepped away from the life he had the right to for the benefit of other people. Go figure, right?

That said, the example I figured to learn from wasn't Jordan from this week, but Jordan from last year, who didn't just accept that his life was in the hands of another and that he was going to have to follow some third person's lead for at least the next year.  My thought was that just because passively taking what you are given and hoping that things workout is the traditional way things are done  at the Inn, they didn't have to be. So, when I woke up well before Jordan the next day - Ravi's frame can handle much more beer than Deirdre's - I decided to go see Sandra.

Fortunately, Ravi's ID says I'm old enough to rent a car in Maine, although once I'd done that, I realized that I didn't actually know which direction to drive. Sandra's last post on my Facebook wall was weeks ago - if you ever think your friend has been replaced after spending a few weeks in old Orchard, check for changes in social media activity; I annoyed people with status updates and Sandra, well, does not - and it mentioned spending some time in Maine. Nothing after that, though-no comment about "Benny" being a dick, no relationship status change, no anything. Did she go back to Boston, did she go to my hometown, or somewhere else entirely?

I figured I could only choose one and hope to get back on time if the change was going to trigger that night, so I started driving north.

I don't know if that made a lot of sense, but I sort of figured that in a situation like this, you sort of go for unconditional acceptance and that's more likely to be found at my home than among her friends in Boston, as some of them might be on "Benny's" side or might just think that they've been broken up for weeks, so "Annette" should just get over it already.  Heck, I might have thought that way were the situation presented to me that way.

About a half hour into the drive, I found myself thinking that I really should have invited Jordan along.  I told myself that it was important to keep him there so that Deirdre could get her body back, even if people changed without me, and there's truth to it, but for all that he's been cooler lately, I didn't want him sticking his foot in my mouth.  Given that my hometown is three and a half hours north of Old Orchard, it made for a long drive.  Pine trees may be pretty, but they get monotonous after a while.

Still, it was odd and kind of nice to be back.  Despite not being there for a year, I felt like I was on autopilot driving through town, although when that autopilot took me to the Burger Shack, I laughed and went to the town's other sit-down restaurant, which is an Italian place.  I parked, accepted the sign's invitation to seat myself, and played with my phone until a waitress came over and asked how I was doing.

I looked up and saw that the waitress was Gretchen, my best friend since forever, and replied with a "been better, how are you doing?" that was probably weirdly enthusiastic, and for a second I was sure she would recognize me; as much as I've gotten used to seeing all kinds of people living in New York, someone living in a small town in Maine might not have seen another Hindu guy since the one that claimed to be her female friend last summer.

Gretchen did give me a long look and then asked if I was still into role-playing.  I shrugged, saying I'd grown pretty tired of the game, but asked if she knew whether Annette was around.  It was a really weird question coming from who I looked like and she didn't seem inclined to chat with "Ravi", so she took my order and dropped it off without much fanfare.

I still gave her a pretty nice tip, though.

Then I drove up to my house, figuring Mom would be at work and I had as good a chance of finding Sandra there as anywhere.  My car was in the driveway, so the odds seemed good.  I rang the doorbell and waited, my heart climbing into my mouth.  It seemed like hours but it was probably only a minute or two before the door opened and I saw Annette Grayson standing there.

It was profoundly weird, and I wondered how Jordan didn't go nuts living in the same apartment as Benny for the last year.  It made me start and stop a few times before finally getting something out.  "So, what can we do about this situation?"

She shrugged.  "Nothing to do.  Ronan made his choice, they seem pretty happy, and I'm not rolling the dice again."

"But it's my life!"

"Yeah, I know, and that sucks.  But life are can you offer me in return?  'Benny'?  How can I possibly look at that face in the mirror after what Ronan did to me with it?  'Missy'?  That times a thousand!  Some random person?  Uh-uh."

"But--"

"No!  Look, Annie, you've got to deal with they way things are, rather than what you want them to be.  We've both been dealt a shitty hand--"

"You look like you're doing all right!"

"Really?  Really, kid?  Look, you may think you've got some sort of enhanced perspective because you've gotten to experience different sexes and races and all that, but you're young.  You don't know what it's like to give your entire adult life to a relationship and marriage only to have your husband throw it away, with the only compensation that you've got a chance to start over.  I can't lose that second chance.  It is the only way that the last fifteen years aren't a complete waste of time."

"You can't look at it like that.  I mean, what about the other opportunities you might have?"

"Like I said, you're young.  It seems that way to you.  But eventually you want something you can count on. What am I supposed to do, go back every year hoping to find some life that suits me but which has no claim?  It's just not reasonable."

I tried to talk her out of it, but it was no good.  She had decided my life was hers, and I couldn't exactly force her into doing something else.

So it looks like I'm going to be Benny, and be him for the foreseeable .  Not tonight, apparently, but soon.  I can handle it.

But I just don't get it!  Sandra has a chance to fix something, and she just won't.  Was she always this selfish a person, or did I just not want to believe that the person in my life would be like this?

-Annette

Jordan: You try to do something nice, and where does it get you?

Annette frets about not writing enough or well enough on this blog like it shows her lack of commitment or ability to be a professional writer someday, but she needs to give herself more credit: Reading that last entry, I was almost convinced that more crying went on over the last couple of weeks than I remember.

Even without the histrionics she put in there, though, I'd be lying if I said our plan didn't scare me some; every moment from waking up to getting off the train in Old Orchard yesterday seemed to present a good reason to turn back, and I'm still not sure now that I shouldn't still go back to New York and tell Benny that the deal is off. Especially since it's not exactly what I expected.

Every time I seemed about to go back, though, Annette would give my hand a squeeze, and I felt a little more like I could do it if (s)he was going to make sure I wasn't going to do it entirely alone. Besides, backing out now would really fuck things up for Deirdre and Gary, who are making new plans to stagger their visits to the Inn to get back to normal.

Or at least try. We got off the train, picked up the keys to our room from the other place (because even if the locals don't realize that the place is fucking cursed, nobody actually wants to work there, apparently), and went back in for the first time in a year. It was eerily the same - after a certain point I guess people just stop trying to improve cursed places - although we were in a different room this time around. We knew that there would be a break in our "chain" because someone wanted to finish their school year, but we didn't really think about that.

As nice as Annette was to me, she was anticipating the exact opposite of me, getting her life back rather than than giving it away, so she dropped her "Ravi" suitcase in the middle of the floor and dashed to the closet. She recognized Benny's and shoved it toward me, the pulled the other one out, commenting that other-Annette must have been shopping, because the one she had checked in with had been a beat-up hand-me-down and this one was nice.

"Isn't this a little like opening your presents before Christmas?"

She shrugged, pulling out the letter that was on top as she opened it. "It's not like I'm ruining some sort of surprise, and besides, there might be stuff we need to do to get ready!" Then she started looking at the letter and the blood drained from her/Ravi's face, and she started reading her letter very intently. Sensing something wasn't right, I opened Benny's suitcase and took out my letter.

Dear Benny,

I'm pleased to present you with your body more or less as you left it, another year of mileage on it but otherwise in pretty good shape. It's been so good to be young again that I almost considered not coming back, but I figured we had done enough damage and you, at least, should be able to come out of this unscathed.

I'm afraid me and Sandra haven't been completely honest with you and Annette about how our lives were going in your bodies, in large part because what we didn't want to talk about was "our lives" as opposed to "your bodies". As you know. we came to the Inn for our tenth anniversary, and though the changes shocked us, we figured it would be kind of fun, like dating again. What we had apparently forgotten was that dating can be a minefield, and her living in a Harvard dorm while I wound up sharing an apartment in Allston with three other young men after a dozen years of living together also did a number on our relationship.

And then, I met Missy.

The exact details don't matter; the point is that I was feeling 32 more than usual that night, and when a 19-year-old that hot shows interest - and your wife is back "home" with her "mom", you respond. And when she stays interested...

Sandra found out, of course. We tried to get past it, but everything we did just made things worse, and Missy is not only determined but also a genuinely great girl. And it's not like she could have known she was destroying a marriage. Or would it be more accurate to say that she was the way I did so?

Sandra and I still planned to meet up here, and figure out what to do afterward. But somehow Missy saw my printed-out reservation, figured I was planning to surprise her with a trip up the coast, and wound up coming along.  When Sandra arrived and saw Missy helping to unload the rental car, there was a screaming match, and Sandra stomped away, saying I was welcome to her.

Maybe if the change didn't happen that first night, we could have fixed things, but it did, and now Missy is Sandra and Sandra looks like she's going to be Annette indefinitely.

Amazingly, Missy seems happy to be Sandra and my wife. I hope that Sandra and Annette can work out some kind of arrangement to make things work out for them soon, but in the meantime, please give Annette all the support she needs. I won't insult her by saying that becoming Missy rather than herself should make her happy, but much worse could have happened to her, and I hope you can help her through it.

Yours Truly,

Ronan

I looked up at a shell-shocked Annette. "Those fucking bastards, not even giving you a heads-up while you've been emailing back and forth.  Sure, at least you'll get to be a girl again, and I guess still from New England so it'll be an easier adjustment--"

She did a double take.  "I don't think Ronan told you everything." Then she handed me her letter.

Dear Annette,

I guess I should get this out of the way before the signature - I'm not Sandra, so you won't be able to become yourself again right away. My name is Lee Yuan-wei, although I use "Missy" as a Western name. As you might guess, I'm not from around here. Hong Kong is my home, or at least it was.

How did I get here? Well, first I decided to go to college overseas - I always wanted to be an actress in both Hong Kong and Hollywood when I grew up, so I figured that going to school here would be good for my English - and it has been! Nobody thinks I speak with a weird accent!

So I enrolled in Boston University; they've got a nice film and theatre program. It's also not that far from the Landsdowne Street clubs, and that's where I met "Benny".

It probably sounds funny to you that his apparent maturity is part of what attracted me to him - little did I know! -but from what I gather, you can understand how I found him hot, too. But he was great, and even though it didn't take me too long to learn that he was "dating Annette", I didn't let that stop me.

That makes me sound horrible, I guess. It's more explanation than justification to say that I was always told to go after what I wanted growing up, and I've always had a leg up in being able to get it; my family does have money and I was quite pretty, which helps if what you want is a guy.

So I did, and "won", or at least "didn't lose", if you figure that Ronan and Sandra were done but I would have wound up with the original Benny after the dust settled.  I don't think that's in any way malicious or uncaring on Ronan's part - he was just trying to make things right as best he could - but I guess it explains a few things about the last few weeks; he didn't think it was going to last much longer.

But then fate stepped in - I saw the reservation at this Inn and assumed it was a surprise trip for the both of us, so I rented a limousine to set us there in style. "Annette" was there, we yelled at each other, and then one last night of great sex later, I woke up a 31-year-old American woman named Sandra - and Ronan's wife!

And I love it!

I guess it's not that strange - everyone tells me I take after my grandmother, who is a big part of the reason why I wanted to be an actress. You might have seen her in some old Shaw Brothers horror movies, but not that many, because she retired when she married my grandfather. I used to think that was crazy, but now, looking at a life with Ronan, feeling that weight of a ring you don't take off on my finger... It just feels right, and when you look at all the strange things that fate has done to get me here, it seems even more meant to be.

So, until and unless you can work something out with Sandra, enjoy my life. It's a good one, just not the one I was meant to live.

Good luck!

Sandra (formerly " Missy" Lee Yuan-Wei)

P.S. Don't worry about the airplane tickets if Hong Kong seems a bit daunting at first; my friends and family will understand even if it is my birthday.

"Holy shit."

''I know! I'm not ready to to China next week! I probably won't be ready next year! I mean, it's one thing to be second-generation Indian-American, mostly in situations where nobody said boo if I only spoke English or didn't celebrate some holiday or something, but she probably hangs out with other Chinese kids at school and there's probably a big birthday party for her in Hong Kong, and that's before getting into how Sandra just decided to keep my life because she was mad at Ronan..."

Our sizes and sexes were not right for her to curl up in a ball and lay her head on my lap, crying, but that's where it went. It was weird, really - I've actually never seen her as a girl, nor she me as a guy, but we still fit our roles, even after a year.

I sighed. "Look, if neither of us are going to be ourselves anyway..."

She looked up. "I can't ask you that."

"Yeah, but, c'mon.  I speak Cantonese - my grandma never totally mastered English and my Dad imported lots of movies from Hong Kong - maybe even some with Missy's grandmother.  You and Benny are both from Maine. It's not like it doesn't make sense. Besides, I've realized that dicks are totally fucking over-rated."

She laid her head back down but didn't look at me. "No, having a dick is awesome. I love being able to use urinals and being on top."

Her and me both, but... "Well, then you keep doing that, then." One of Missy's bras had fallen on the floor, and I gave it a look. "Besides, it looks like Missy has bigger tits than Deirdre. These bug bites were a real letdown."

She laughed, bitterly, and then looked up. ''You are a terrible liar, and kind of a jerk, but you're okay otherwise."

She sat back up, a sad but relieved look on her face. "Well, I guess I'll go wash up, and then, 'Missy', how about I buy you a beer or two while they'll still serve you? I need about five, I think."

"Best offer I've had all day, 'Benny'."

And so we did. It wasn't a huge farewell party, but it left me with a pretty serious hangover. I hope Missy's form holds it better.

-Judo, who can't believe he'll be answering to "Missy" soon.

Meghan: Mobility

Sorry it's been a month. Time flies...

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house... with a beautiful wife...

Some days I wake up and I can't believe my life. It's a bit trite to say, but the past year feels like a dream, like it didn't happen. It did happen to me, but there's hardly any evidence around me to say so. I'm back in my own home, wearing my own clothes, communicating with my own friends for the first time in a year. But there is one notable absence: my cane.

In my early 20's, I was in a car accident that left me a little handicapped: standing or walking for long periods caused me a lot of pain. I wasn't a great candidate for surgery, and while physical therapy helped some, I was inconsistent in keeping up with it, unmotivated... resigned to my fate.

When I became Tasha, I remembered what full mobility was like, and relished it. I danced around the kitchen, did yoga, worked on my feet as a waitress. Yes, the weight of Tasha's improbably-sized F-cup breasts caused some back issues, but it was nothing compared to what waiting in line at the DMV could do to my real body. And forget concerts (because everybody stands), amusement parks... leisurely strolls were my maximum. I was never the most athletic girl, but I became very sedentary.

When Carrie arrived in my body, she told me she wasn't using the cane very much. At first we wondered if the Inn had somehow "fixed" me - or at least helped the process along. Then she floated the idea that some of the problem may have been in my head. That upset me, made me feel weak, and I didn't want to give it any credit ("magic hotel" sounds so much more likely than "psychosomatic pain," sure!) Now I'm feeling it for myself - the pain from simply being Tasha dissipated overnight as I felt my melons shrink into little apples, my back muscles ease up, and while I did feel a familiar sting when I first stepped off the bed onto that bad knee, it wasn't nearly as sore as I remember it. I don't know what the truth is behind this recovery, and to be frank, I could hardly care less.

Now that I've picked up some good wellness habits as Tasha, I don't plan on abandoning them as myself.

I knew the body I would be getting back wasn't exactly as I left it. I felt lighter and slimmer to a slight degree, although I hadn't weighed myself recently at the time of the change. My hair was left longer and, to my dismay, bleached blonde (haven't I spent enough time as a blonde for my life? I'm going dark again as soon as I get home.) And I don't even want to get into what she did to my eyebrows.

But it's me. It's home.

That first morning, before chaos erupted around us, I slipped out of Tasha's ugly gray sleep bra and marveled at the fact that it had just fit me quite snugly until the night before.

Then Tyler and I took it on ourselves to round everyone else and try to contain the madness. It was a long, exhausting day. Then again, the first time we did this, it was just Ty and I left to fend for ourselves. Here, we felt we had the obligation to use our experience to help others.

Of course, they weren't all receptive.

I didn't want to tell people what to do. I've read where Jordan has said (often and a little crassly for my taste, but maybe I'm just sensitive) how proud he was that he just went on living his life, and in an ideal situation that would be possible for everyone. But what do you say to a grown man who now appears to be a child? Or his teenage son who now appears to be that child's father? For all the talk of "this is my body, it just looks like someone else's," the world runs on photo ID and the letter of the law: you are who you appear to be. Legally, Trevor's parents couldn't even operate a motor vehicle, and if they're kept out of school, child protective services might feel inclined to intervene. Could Erin simply show up at her job appearing to be a young man from New York and say that he was "filling in?" For a year? No.

Then there's the questionable legality of Kitty and Chet resuming their married relationship while one appears to be a minor. If that's even what they want to do.

These points came up during a lengthy and exhausting debate about whether it was right to live these lives or simply ignore what had happened. Kitty was firmly representing the "We don't have to do what anybody else tells us" camp. Erin and Rosie sided quietly with me. I tried to nudge the group towards acceptance of the situation without tipping the fact that Ty and I had been here before.

Kitty accused me of having a hidden agenda, which made her stand all the more firmly against us. I guess my arguments came a little too fully-formed to be spontaneous. Tyler was not much help, even though I repeatedly brought up how his fate was now linked with Kitty -- if "Greta" goes missing, who are they going to come looking for? The boyfriend.

Kitty argued that this was not her problem.

Finally a little voice screamed at the top of its lungs - "ENOUGH!!" It was Trevor's father, in the body of a ten-year-old girl, stepping into the middle of the ring. My guess is that as a middle-aged white man he was not used to being ignored the way we had been doing.

He (ever aware of pronouns - inside, he is a male) - turned to me and asked, "Are you sure there's no way to get our bodies back right away?"

"We have a couple more nights here," I sighed, "See for yourself. It would just happen, wouldn't it?"

Of course, we didn't necessarily have a couple of nights. Kitty and Chett took off before dark, presumably for their home in Rhode Island. I vented my frustration to Ty, and admitted I was annoyed at him fornot helping the argument more, but he seemed to see their side: "Sometimes I wish we could have done that."

"But we didn't, because we couldn't," I shot back.

"That's something they need to see for themselves, then." I wrapped my arms around him. He's always been so zen when I'm getting worked up about things. It's equally infuriating and reassuring.

I had trouble writing my letter. I tend to be pretty picky about what words I use, and in the case of my experience as Tasha, I found it even harder to express, even though there's a year's worth of blog entries on the subject. I wanted to sum the whole thing up grandly and express my truest regrets about the mistakes I made in her name. In the end, I summed it up with "You and I have a bond, and if you ever need me for anything, even just to talk, I will be there."

With Kitty and Chet gone, the remaining "Victims" (can there please be another word for this?) resumed our discussion the next day a bit easier. The new-Jenkinses, who are mostly already a family anyway, agreed to pick up stakes for Albany. Trevor got quite an earful from his parents about dragging that poor girl into it - not that he would have known what would happen, but obviously they weren't fans of the way he snuck a random girl into his room after dark. Trevor's dad fired off numerous e-mails preparing for his extended leave, and crossed his fingers that his successor would be capable of middle-managing a delivery company. Rosie and Erin didn't seem to agonize too badly over their decision to go to NYC.

Which left me and Tyler. "So where to?" I asked him, nervously.

He sighed. "There's an apartment with the name Alan Schmidt on the lease in Wisconsin... but it can wait."

He took my hand and smiled at me. I told him, "Tyler... I don't know what to say. It's so complicated between us."

"It's not," he said. "It doesn't have to be."

"I never promised anything... I didn't mean to give you the idea that this was... like, a sure thing."

"All I want is a shot... a chance to forget the past year and pick up where we left off."

He looks so different from the man I met last year, and so much more different than the way I have gotten used to seeing him. I felt myself smile weakly.

"There's this smile you do," he said, "It's so unmistakable, like you don't want to admit you're happy. I've seen it on Tasha's face and it looks even better on yours."

I took a deep breath. I may not be sure that he and I are meant to be anything, but I owe it to myself to move on with my life.

"Let's just take it slow... for now.

"In Vermont."

So here we are. At my little apartment in Vermont. Beginning... something, in earnest. He's sleeping on my couch. We're playing house. We have spent long nights just talking, walking around, or watching TV, and I find myself leaning over and drifting off to sleep in his arms. It feels so similar to those times when I let myself feel something for Wade, and yet so much better because I know this is real, this is for me.

I still worry about things. I worry something's going to happen and upend this whole arrangement. I worry about the things I don't know, about Alan or Tyler himself. I spend whole days waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then I worry that I'm going to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy, like I did with Wade and Mykal.

But then I realize that's doesn't have to happen, because I'm home.

Annette/Ravi: Should have seen this coming, but, yikes

So Jordan has basically left it to me to catch everyone up on what's happened up to now, and I can't say I blame him.  As much as I sometimes think there's a decent guy under there - for all he'll bitch about a lot of things, and doesn't like being a girl, he's never really treated it as a step down, and I kind of appreciate that - he's not one for introspection, and that last post probably pushed his limits.  And, besides, what has happened since isn't all about him.

Though "since" isn't particularly right.  "Since" is just what we saw, so how it's filed in our heads.  That's not accurate.

Anyway, a few days after our dinner with Deirdre and Gary, the manager at work had screwed up and overbooked staff, so I decided to do some of the silly tourist stuff that guys who have lived here all their lives like Jordan and Ravi probably haven't bothered with since elementary school field trips (Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, that sort of thing), putting me downtown at different hours than usual and thirsty for a smoothie.  I popped into a favorite spot.

Thus, I was a bit out of place when I saw Benny and Kareena seated on the other side of the shop. I started to raise my hand to get their attention, thinking nothing of it - we're all friends, after all - when Benny said something, Kareena blushed, and then they both leaned in and kissed!

I stopped right in my tracks, and barely had time to register that I had opened the Camera app on my phone and was getting a picture of it before backing out of the shop, running half a block away and around a corner before calling Jordan. It went straight to voicemail, even though I knew damn well that he was just playing Xbox. I left a message to call back right away and then started peeking around the corner to see if they were leaving the shop yet, not caring how ridiculous a six-foot Hindu man might look doing so.

After a few minutes, I got antsy and called again. I lasted another couple before sending a text to pick up your damn phone, a minute at best before sending one that said "it's important", and then seconds before sending the picture.

That got a response, with the phone ringing and Jordan yelling "what the fuck?" practically before I could get the phone to my ear, just like Gretchen did the time I got a picture of my boyfriend cheating on me, and for a minute I was back in high school again.

''I know! It's..." I stopped for a moment, trying to come up with an appropriately appalled adjective but instead allowing my brain time to think. "It's something we should have seen coming. She's not getting anything from me-slash-Ravi, and Benny's got you looking pretty good, and we all hang out together..."

"Yeah, but-"

I shushed him. "They're coming out now!"

''Are you going to follow them?"

"Obviously!"

Fortunately, I didn't have to play detective for very long as they went into a nearby gym.  Which made sense, as they're both workout fiends.  Who both love volleyball, and come to think of it, they were both reading the same book...

Jordan groaned when I started listing that staff out. "I cannot fucking talk about this on the phone like this.  Let's get a drink."

"Jordan, it's like eleven-thirty in the morning."

''Then we should be very glad you didn't see them kissing after Benny's morning run."

I could not argue with that logic.

---

Four hours later I was holding back Jordan's hair as he puked in our apartment's toilet. I stepped away for a moment to get him a glass of water, and when I turned back, he was crying.  I don't think I'd ever seen him do that before, and it was like there was no wiseass guy inside the petite girl at all for a second.

"I can't remember the last time I overdid something like that.  I'm not usually one of those pussies on the blog who can't handle periods and I think I've done pretty fucking well not doing anything outside my new capacity - I mean, this girl's taste buds seem to be designed for appreciating good chocolate - but now with just a few weeks left I've drunk myself sick, in front of you, and why? Because Benny might have put me in a position to be with the awesome girlfriend that Ravi doesn't deserve!  What the fuck is wrong with me?"

I almost said it might be something cycle-related, but didn't, and stifled a laugh. Sure, I've been a man for a year, but I still think of myself as a woman, and have had moments of being pissed because men think that explains everything. Instead, I told him that it was just creepy. "You're a dick, but you've done a pretty good job of avoiding the creepy stuff."

"Thanks, I think."

We didn't have time to talk about whether I was calling him a dick affectionately or not. That was when we heard the door open, and Jordan grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and nodded. I thought about how it was a good thing that he didn't wear make-up and followed him to the living room.  He was telling Benny that we had to talk.

"'Bout what?"

Jordan didn't say anything, but just shoved his phone in Benny's face with the picture I'd sent him on the screen.

"Oh. I can explain..."

"What's to explain? I get it."

"Okay, I should have told you, but I thought it was just going to be one time..."

Having heard that from a cheating boyfriend before, I interrupted. "Even if it was just one time, don't you think Jordan should have known? We're going to be going back to our real lives soon-"

"I would have broken it off and then put it in the letter..."

"Oh, and that would have made everything all right!"

"No, but..."

"Do you love her?"

That shut both of us up and had us looking at Jordan. Of all the ways he could have steered the conversation, that was the one I least expected.

He continued. "Look, I'm pissed about being in this situation, but it's the situation we're in, so the question is, what do we do going forward?  But if we're going to get the best possible result, that's the thing we're going to have to know. Do you love her, and does she love you?"

Benny just sat there, seemingly stunned by what Jordan was implying.

I let out the breath I was holding. "Well," I said, "we've got a couple of weeks to find out."

---

I did my part the next night, which was already scheduled as a date with Kareena.

I switched things up and opted for takeout instead of a restaurant, so that we could find some neutral ground and not have people feel trapped with us if things got ugly. Once we found a sparsely-populated spot in a local park, I just came out with it.

''Kareena, I've got something to tell you. I'm gay."

Just like that. No pause to make her wonder, the first part just so she'd know I was talking and I wouldn't have to repeat it.

She stopped working the latch on her styrofoam box.  "What?"

I launched into what I'd planned to say, a mix of what I had been feeling and what I figured had been going on in Ravi's head. I said I'd never wanted to deceive anyone but had wound up deceiving myself, that I'd only found out myself when my defenses were lowered and I found someone irresistibly attractive, and I wasn't seeing anyone or trying to make a fool of her. I left out any mention of finding out at her friend's New Year's Eve party or anything like doubting it because of how much I liked her; this was not a time to be putting any sort feeling of responsibility on her.

For a while, she just stared at me, not seeming to know what to think.  Then I could almost see her desire to be a modern, liberal woman wrestle a somewhat conservative upbringing down. "I guess that makes sense... We've never... I thought it might have been me..." She paused. "Our parents are going to be so angry."

"Just with me. I think I can take it." I thought of Ravi. "But if I can't, and I come back and tell you it was all a big mistake..."

"It won't matter whether I believe you or not."

I figure that's a fair reaction.

We tried to engage in small talk as we ate our curry after that, but it wasn't really happening. The movie was canceled. I went home to email Ravi; I hope Kareena  wound up crying less than me.

Ravi was furious, saying I had no right, that things were fine with Kareena before I screwed things up, and what if she told her parents who told his...? He made noises like he was going to drive up and sort things out until I pointed out that "Gary" had no standing in this situation and hid come across as some sort of weird ex-lover. He made a vague comment about maybe just keeping this life if I was going to destroy his like this, but I forwarded that to the real Gary and while I don't know what he said, that was the end of that.

I kind of feel like I did the right thing for the wrong reason here; I'm pretty sure that Ravi will be better off after facing the facts about his life, and that he'll be mostly able to do it at his own rate. What little interaction I've had with his family in the last few weeks doesn't seem much different, and Kareena doesn't seem like she'd out someone out of anger. If she's even angry.

That's the "wrong reason" part; we did this so that there wouldn't be anything holding her back with Benny/Jordan, and that's more than a bit creepy. I look back at the older entries in the blog and wonder if this is how the "Pygmalion" who was manipulating Ashlyn got his/her start, giving folks little pushes before really going all-in on arranging people's lives. Jordan and I tell each other that we were helping her, pushing her out of a relationship that wasn't giving her all she wanted and never would, while also giving her the chance to take another seriously in a way she might not have otherwise, and we might have done something similar in other circumstances, but wire doing it based on information she doesn't have and won't, and that's not really cool.

Also not cool: I haven't spoken to her since. I knew I was going to miss her, but this was weeks early.

---

Benny got to see her, though, and those last few weeks were hard on him; I don't think he'd given any sort of thought to what he was doing until Jordan made him. He's a pretty good guy, but lets not forget he's here because of a one-night stand with me, after all.

The tension spread through the apartment, which never felt smaller. It wasn't much of a relief when we gathered in the living room Sunday night, though.

"So... Me and Kareena...  We haven't... I haven't... I just couldn't be the one to break her heart for the second time in a month! I'm sorry, Jordan, but you'll have to do it."

Jordan forced a pretty powerful stare out of Deirdre's pixie face."So you're saying it would break her heart."

"Well, maybe not break her heart, but it would hurt her."

"And you can't stand to be the one to do that."

"No, but someone has to, unless you just intend to pick up where I left off!"

Jordan took a deep breath, tried looking down, but eventually looked Benny in the eyes.  "What if you didn't have to leave off? What if I took over your life and you kept mine?"

For all that we'd been thinking about it over the previous weeks, as Jordan had implied it pretty strongly when we found out about Benny and Kareena, I don't think any of us expected Jordan to put the actual offer out there.

Benny started to sputter.  "C'mon, that's crazy! I can't just be you on my own! What about your job, your family-"

"He's right," I interjected, "I mean, you still go down to the comic shop every week, pick up staff from a folder that says 'Jordan Chang', and argue about them online as'JordoNYC'!  You've kept a claim on your real life like few others have!"

Jordan looked at Benny first. "Last job's been done for months, and you can make a career change. You get along with my brother better than I did, to be honest.  I'll miss the hell out of Mom and Dad - I can't guarantee that your friend Benny from Maine won't need a place to stay during the holidays - and you'll have to learn Cantonese sooner than later, but I didn't say it would be easy.  "Then he turned to me. ''And where did trying to stay me get me? Nowhere; just more pissed off at what I couldn't do, feeling like you guys trying new things were stupid. And then..."

He stopped looting at me, got up, and walked toward the kitchen area so that he could address both of us. "Do you have any idea what it's like to see yourself get your shit together from the outside - to see yourself get into shape, make real-world friends, and finally be with a great girl - and then feel like there's a really good chance that putting me back in that life would lead to me fucking it up? I'm not saying that I don't want what Benny's made of Jordan Chang, but it also fucking terrifies me!"

I didn't knew what to say to that, and I think it started to scare Benny as well. "Dude, you're smart, you'll figure it out. And I can't just take your life forever for a girl!"

For a minute, I thought Jordan was going to reply, but I guess he'd kind of exhausted what he had to say, and was trying to find something else. I considered holding back, because this was so totally not about me, but...

"Benny, look at the others who have had this happen to them. A whole lot have wound up stuck in bad situations for reasons not nearly as good as Kareena."

The room got really quiet, and then Benny got up, walked over to Jordan, and practically smothered that petite body in a bear hug.  "If you ever change your mind, man. I'll be on the next train to Maine if you say so, don't care who I become. But thank you for however much more time I've got with her!"

We all started hugging and crying after that, and then spent the next couple of days going to Jordan's favorite NYC places, packing, and then having a big blowout bash last night. I wish Kareena could have been part of it, but making it just for us Inn folks made more sense.

---

It ran late enough that Jordan barely had time to get to the train station before conking back out on the train. I've written this in a sprint, occasionally looking up to see him asleep, looking strangely peaceful.

I wonder what kind of Benny he'll be.

-Annette/Ravi

Jordan: Friday night with Gary and Deirdre

Annette has been spending the past couple of months trying to reconcile the way she has chosen to live Ravi's life with having to hand it back over to him, and that's sort of sucked for her. I, meanwhile, have spent last week worrying about being judged, and I've probably done way worse than using a closet case's dick to fuck a few guys (no, I don't think Ravi and I will stay roommates after this, so why not tell it like it is?).  I just ignored Deirdre's life entirely, so when she called up at the end of June, I didn't know what to expect.

On average, I probably keep in contact with the folks before and after me on the Inn's chain-of-change as much as anyone, but it's a distorted average - while Annette has regular emails and text exchanges with both Ravi and the person living her life, I live with Benny (sometimes even sharing a room when he and Annette bunking together would look weird) and seldom talk to Deirdre. At first it was defiance - I probably blamed her for me being stuck as a girl - and then it was just having nothing to talk about. I didn't need to know anything about her life, and we didn't really share any common interests. so why try and force some sort of friendship? She would ask me how things were going every once in a while, but that was it.  Even then, I mostly ignored her.

A few weeks ago, though, they had decided that they would take a trip to New York, and wanted to meet up. My first instinct was to say hell, no, but I made the mistake of telling Annette, and she said we had to (she can make "you" into "we" without much trouble at all).  I said I didn't see the point, and she replied that there needn't be one - it can just be a thing you do. She says I'm lucky to have been able to interact with Benny as he tried to live my life, as most of the other "guests" just get a letter and only see the results of what happened after-the-fact, so I should give Deirdre this one evening.

So, plans were made.  Dinner with Benny & Annette, a walk along the High Line, meeting up with Kareena for ice cream later.  Annette gears up for a "gay best friend" day, but I tell her, no, these people know who I really am and I'm not looking to impress them with how girly I can be or anything.  Just shorts, a t-shirt, and a ponytail for me, because New York can get fucking hot.

We met at around six o'clock, and it must have looked kind of odd to anybody who hadn't been to the Inn - the three of us with our apparent various ethnicities get approached by this couple in their late forties, sort of simultaneously aged a bit prematurely and kind of robust-looking because they have spent their lives working for a living.  They still register as being our age if you've been to the Inn and know that everything is not necessarily as it seems; you don't see that many people pushing fifty simultaneously texting and talking with each other, or stopping to look at certain posters on the walls with interest rather than surprised curiosity. Then again, it is New York, and we do get all kinds.

It takes a while for them to spot me, as I'm easily the shortest and thus most difficult to find in a crowd. They do, though, hustling over and introducing, themselves. The real Deirdre starts to embrace me, but backs off. "A little too weird for me," she says, "and I kind of get the impression you aren't really a hugger." She's not wrong, so we settle for a somewhat awkward handshake.

Annette and Benny introduce themselves, and then we're seated.  There's a sort of prolonged staring-not-staring thing going on with me, Deirdre, and Gary, and I crack first.  "Look, I'm not going to apologize for trying to live my life instead of yours.  I had stuff that needed to be done that Benny here wasn't going to handle and playing the part of Ravi's girlfriend was just not happening.  If that's what you're here for..."

Deirdre bit the side of her lip, something that might have been cuter coming from me, the way appearances were arranged. "It would have been kind of nice, but I kind of get it. It kind of never occurred to us, but maybe if we were going to be separated or something... Anyway, I think Gary is just looking for a peek at your boobs without me knowing."

"I'm not looking at her boobs!"

"Nah, it's okay. They're really my boobs, after all-"

"Actually, they're my tits and only look like yours right now." We had a laugh, but I soon pointed out that I was kind of serious. "It's like everyone who goes to the Inn just automatically thinks it makes sense to abandon their lives to other people, or vice versa, even talking like their body isn't their own any more. It's just, I don't know..."

Annette said something about this experience making a feminist out of me. I snorted.

Deirdre seemed to think it over, though she changed the mood by elbowing Gary and pointing to Benny. "She's got a point, but then again, if I get to stay with him..."

"So long as you're cool with him being me!"

We all laughed, but it had an edge to it.  We've all, to some extent or other, spent a lot of time thinking about lives as pieces to be arranged and reassembled, and assessing the potential combination of that body and that mind is a path that can get you into trouble. Like, if I could get some non-bitch into Tina Chen's life..?

"Well," I said, "you might want to do it for a while, stage a breakup and reconciliation."

"Ugh." Gary cradled his head in his hands. "I set the feeling I'm already going to have to dump Kristina again, and that takes a fair amount of time and effort."

Deirdre sighed, but didn't look as pained by it as Gary. "I'm telling him that we should just go. Find a new place in a new city where I can finish school and he can start studying for the bar again. If there is one thing we've learned from this, it's that we work no matter what our surroundings are."

"And that not being near our families can be for the best."

I fidgeted a bit hearing that. I didn't stay in New York because I was afraid of doing something outside my comfort zone, but I do wonder about what it would have been like to try something a little different. What if I'd gone to Baltimore but broke up with Ravi/Gary for the duration? Sitting at that table, looking at how these two had learned something, Benny had done things to make my life better, and Annette seemed to have found some new knowledge about Ravi and herself, I got the feeling that I had just hidden, and that doing so wasn't much different than how I had lived my own life.

Then Kareena arrived and everybody started doing it.

Annette is naturally the one who talks about Kareena the most, but I found it interesting (at the time) that we all tried to keep the weird Inn stuff away from her. I mean, fuck, I don't ever recall feeling angry about her bailing on the trip and getting me stuck in this situation, and Annette will tell you that a lot of stuff pisses me off. It's an indication of just how much people like her immediately, and even though we know that she wouldn't believe us if we told her the truth, the whole thing would upset her.

It made for the occasional weird moment, though, like when we introduced our guests as the people whose luggage we found left in our room at the Inn and she laughed, saying that she really wished she could have gone on that trip if it was cool enough for "Jordan" to find a girlfriend and make big changes in his life or even to want to hang out with folks that "he" and Ravi had barely met. That drew a big, semi-fake laugh all around.

It also sort of killed the blog-worthy conversation until the end of the night (especially since "blog-worthy" becomes a much higher target a month later; this thing has been sitting in "Drafts" since then). The rest of the night was pleasant but mostly uneventful, at least until I went to the ladies' room and got backed into a corner by Deirdre.

She stared at me hard for what seemed like along time but was probably only about twenty seconds before hissing "you selfish bitch." Then her shoulders slumped, and she continued. "There, that's out. I've wanted to say that for almost a year."

I untensed a bit too; I didn't realize that I was preparing for a woman who kind of had fucking reason to do so to hit me until the moment had passed. "I--I'm sorry." It was a little weird. "It was just - my job, the thought of being Ravi's girlfriend..."

"No, I get it now - Gary and I didn't have it easy, but we were kind of the best-case scenario, relationship-wise - still with each other, no sex-change stuff; maybe I would have done the same thing in your situation.

"But I don't forgive you. I want you to know that, even if we're polite, even if we understand, even if Gary does. You made our lives harder when almost everyone else we connected with during this whole thing has at least tried to help, and I want you to think about that."

I had an impulse to tell her to fuck herself, but didn't. Not sure why. Anyway, that's what's been hard to actually set down in the last month for me.

I'll let Annette tell the rest.

-"Jordo"

Tyler: Lauren no more.

I could sort of feel it in the air last night, but I was worried it was just my imagination. The preliminary... whatever it is. It was like a small skin irritation that spread slowly from the middle of my body outward. I could actually feel it starting around 2 AM, but I was so exhausted I fell back asleep for a few hours while it, I guess, happened.

I woke up around 4:10 AM, woozy, but seriously alert once I realized it was probably already over with. I was sleeping naked on top of the covers, but it was dark in the room. I sat up and got lightheaded, because suddenly "up" was a lot further of a journey than it used to be. But I also didn't feel the familiar counterweight of my breasts pulled down toward the floor as I did so. My one arm went to confirm, it was a flat, lightly-haired chest, and the other rushed to my crotch to feel the new equipment there.

And I have to say I maybe was a bit too enthusiastic there, because I didn't know the exact dimensions of it, and... well, there's no easy way to put this. Within a minute of realizing I was a man again, I had punched myself almost full-force in the testes. Agh. Sort of a bittersweet homecoming.

I hobbled over to the bathroom mirror to find that the transformation was... mostly complete. There were still some vestiges of Lauren. My chest was flat, but the breast tissue was still converting into muscle, I suppose, because they were still very tender. And then there was my face... a really warped version of Lauren's, with a man's jaw and hairline. I had to look away... it was like being warped in a funhouse mirror, except for real. I actually had to look away, I found it a little disturbing.

I cleared my throat and said the first thing that came to mind, "Testing, testing. My name is Lauren. No, it isn't." Sufficiently deep, I supposed.

I checked my reflection again fifteen minutes later. I no longer looked like Lauren in any sense. In her place was this very tall, very skinny man with a wide, toothy mouth and short, curly, sandy blond hair. A chill went up my spine. I was almost overwhelmed.

There were two sets of luggage in the closet of my room: one man and one woman. The man was Alan Schmidt, 24, of Milwaukee, WI. The woman was Greta Johansen, 23, whose ID indicated she was from Minnesota. The ID also indicated she was 5'11, so I figured she would stand out.

I dumped out Alan's luggage and found something I could throw on - a pair of gym shorts and a tank top. I was about to head to Meg's room when I heard two knocks on my door.

I opened it and looked down - way down, at a face I had not seen in over a year, cheeks streaked with tears, I assume of joy. She looked slightly different, but it was her. She craned her neck up at me and gasped, "Holy..." then collected herself, and ask-stated "Ty?"

I grinned as widely as my new mouth could (which apparently is a lot.) "Yeah. Yeah! It's me!"

She fell into my long arms and I wrapped them around her. We laughed so hard in relief we couldn't breathe. "I was so worried! I was so worried." she just kept repeating. "I know, I know," I said back. My heart was beating faster and faster. I couldn't believe our luck. We had to get all this joy out of our system, though, because as far as we knew we had 11 newly-transformed people to explain things to. We kept saying back and forth "I can't believe it, I can't believe it..."

We didn't hear any signs of panic, yet, so we took a moment to read over Alan's "letter." It was actually just a brief paragraph summarizing Alan's understanding of the curse, followed by a series of bullet points:

• Name, home address, e-mail address
• Works as a driver for Thrio, an Uber-like service
• Has lived with girlfriend Greta for the past year of their four-year relationship
• Current whereabouts (To be discussed at a later date)
• Parents Jack and Mary, 2 sisters Helen (27, married, 1 son) and Doreen (22, single) and a younger brother Jack Jr., (19, with a special note: "Jack is gay and you had better be nice to him. Mom and dad don't know yet." No problem.)
• Allergic to strawberries, lactose intolerant (gee, must have sucked growing up in Wisconsin then.)

When you put it all out on paper like that, it seems like there's not that much to taking over someone's life. And in truth, that's just it... you're given their face and the strange trust of everyone around you that you are who you say you are, and that's half the work right there. The other half is simply not screwing up what's been given to you. There's this old saying I heard, "Leave the fridge fuller when you leave" that seems to have guided me during my year as Lauren.

I did laugh about being assigned a job as a professional driver... I don't mind driving, but I haven't done much of it this past year. Could be bad.

Once we felt settled with what had happened to ourselves, we decided it was time to start gathering people and explaining what we knew. We had made a few friends (and some not-very-friendly acquaintances)  in our short time in Maine, so we felt it behooved us to help them handle this any way we could. At the very least, one of them would be in the body of Alan's girlfriend, with her appropriate clothes and "welcome" letter in my room. I brought it along with Greta's ID.

We figured "Greta" must be in one of the adjacent rooms. In the room to my left was Erin and Rosie. Since we were closest with them, I knocked on their door first. I was about to speak, but Meg went first, saying that if they heard a man's voice they might feel threatened.

"Rosie? Erin? Are you in there?" We heard the sound of some bodies moving around. "Listen, it's... Tasha... and Lauren... if something happened to you, it's okay, it happened to us too."

I stood behind Meg in a non-threatening position. The door opened a crack. A man's eyeball was visible. He looked us over, and gasped "Oh my God." He opened the door wide enough for us to come in.

He was white and about six inches shorter than me. Probably 150 pounds soaking wet, with short dark hair and a tan complexion, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Sitting on the bed was a tall African-American guy with his head in his hands and a blanket covering his lap.

We looked back and forth between the two: "So, who..."

"Erin," said the white guy, meekly holding his hand up. He pointed across the room, "Rosie." Rosie gave a slight embarrassed wave.

"I know the feeling," I said bashfully, "You might remember me as Lauren."

"I can't believe this," Erin gasped. "What happened? What is... did it happen to all of us?"

"Yeah," I said, "Sit down, we need to talk."

We gave them the short version, about how we had been at the Inn a year ago and it turned us into Lauren and Tasha, and how we came back to get our bodies back, emphasizing that it was possible - not a guarantee, but emphasizing that this definitely wasn't permanent.

We searched the room and found that the original owners of those bodies had left their luggage under the bed rather than in the closet. They were Brooklyn natives: Erin was now Chris DeVito, and Rosie was Ahmir Johnson.

The four of us then proceeded to the room to the other side of mine, but it had emptied.  We kept knocking on doors and doing our best to reach out. It didn't appear that anyone besides Meg and myself were second-timers.

We found some young girls, ten-year-old twins. They identified themselves as Trevor's parents. I asked where Trevor was, and they brought me to him. In his room were a man and a woman - apparently the parents of the two girls. The man - probably about 36 or so, paunchy with a shaved head and a beard - stood and identified himself as Trevor. 

I guess he didn't turn out too bad, considering the possibilities, and what happened to his parents. But aging close to twenty years overnight is not a perfect situation either.

We discerned they were the Jenkinses, from upstate New York, also parents to a 13-year-old boy who had not yet appeared. The Jenkins wife/mother was sitting cross-legged on the bed, weeping. I asked who Trevor that was, and he explained that he had met a girl at the club the night we went out, and had snuck her into his room a few nights since. That made me make an involuntary groan of exasperation.

I felt bad that he had brought someone else into this, but it was more or less the same thing that happened to me and Meg, so I was hardly in a place to judge. I paid her a little extra sympathy - not that everyone else didn't deserve some, but she wasn't even supposed to be at the Inn, and now she dragged into it. Her parents will think she went missing, and she has little choice but to go off with strangers and pretend to be wife to Trevor of all people.

I was starting to get stressed, taking stock of who was ending up where and making sure everyone was OK, when I spotted her, this tall, willowy girl with dark hair down her back. Greta. She was dressed in clothes that didn't really fit her long body.

"Hey!" I called out, probably too aggressively, "Hey, excuse me!"

She glanced at me and then went for the door.

I dashed after her, almost tripping over my long legs, "Hey! Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I just... you're... sorry, I mean, who are you? Do you know what's happening?"

"We're leaving," she said sharply, "That's what's happening. I don't know who you people are or what you think you're doing here..."

"We changed. And you did too," I said simply, "We... we can explain. I can help. My name is Tyler, but when I came here my name was Lauren Sherman, you might have seen me around, an 18-year-old girl..."

Her eyes bugged out, "Lauren? You're that... you were... you have something to do with this?"

"I didn't... not exactly, but I know something about it. Sorry, who are you?"

Her demeanor relaxed and she held her arms out for a hug. "It's Kitty, darling!"

Oh, great.

I reluctantly let her hug me - we were practically eye-to-eye. I went on, "Yeah, it got all of us who were staying at the Inn... um, I don't mean to be rude, but what happened to your husband?"

"He's in the car," she sighed. "We were just going to go home, all this spooky stuff really freaked us out. My heart is still racing!"

She took me over to where a 13-year-old boy was sitting in the passenger's seat of her Lexus SUV, sulking. We had found the missing Jenkins kid.

I told them not to go just yet, we had a lot of stuff to sort out.

Sorry, this has taken a long time out of my day to write and I need to address some things. Will be back later. I can't wait until I have a minute to feel, somewhat shamefully, good about what's happened to me.

Erin: Is this thing on?

I'm getting a weird vibe from this place. Those girls, Lauren and Tasha, keep exchanging weird looks and whispering something to each other but I can't figure out what they're going on about. They're nice, but also oddly guarded about what brought them to Maine, besides "Vacation."

They told me about this blog where people who stay at the Trading Post can share their experiences, but so far there haven't been many experiences worth sharing.

Of course, the blog itself is blocked from the Coffee Shop wifi I'm currently stealing for "pornography" so somebody must be having a good time here.

I'll start by telling my story: the short version. My name is Erin Henley. I'm 28, from deep in the heart of Indiana: a town so small it's hardly on the map. It's sort of a real-life Pawnee, for fans of Parks & Rec, except nobody as interesting as Leslie Knope lives there (I've met a few Ron Swansons over the years though.)

I swear I used to have ambitions to get out and be someone. (Or just be myself, somewhere other than Indiana.) Instead I ended up working for a food supply company in my hometown, in supply chain management, until recently, when my position was eliminated. I came out east to visit Rosie, my best friend since childhood, who has been going through some rough times lately. She has lived on the east coast for years, settling here after school, but she's always bounded around from job to job without really following her ambitions either, and neither of us are exactly winning in the romance department.

When she came to greet me in Portland, I hardly recognized her. She has put on, shall we say, a bit of weight since I last saw her five years ago (not that Facebook hadn't prepared me for this) and I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but I suspect it's tied to some depression issues she hasn't told me about. I don't want to be too much of a Pollyanna about it, but I hope this vacation will cheer her up. She knows I'm here for her.

It's been fairly relaxing. Not too exciting, but the weather has been good and we've met some good (if odd) people. Still waiting on the potential for that romance thing, but I guess eligible bachelors don't really come to dainty B&B's in Maine. Not to meet women anyway...

Hopefully tonight she'll finally be up for that bar crawl I've been begging her to come on since we first talked about this trip. Then maybe she'll spill about what's been bugging her lately.

Ciao!

Tyler/Lauren: Cinderella

Yeah, still Lauren.

With any luck the changeover will be tonight. I'm sick of sleepless nights, waiting to find out what's going to happen. I want my new life to begin already, whatever it is.

A few more people arrived at the Inn in time for the weekend, but curiously not enough to set off the magic mojo that we're here for. I'm trying not to let it get to me. It's going to happen... I still don't think Meg is right to get freaked. Sure, we don't really understand anything about it... but we've got all these patterns worked out, I feel like we can make assumptions.

All this to say I'm itching to get a new change of clothes.

One of the groups that arrived after us (bringing the total to 10 or 11 for the weekend) had something I really dreaded... a teenage son, Trevor. He's taller than me, but pretty average-looking, with shaggy black hair and the rank odor of an average teenage boy. He caught up to me in the hall on Saturday and told me there was an all-ages party in town that night. Okay, cabin fever is really starting to get to me, so despite this obvious attempt to put the moves on me, I agreed to go along.

Meg disapproved, but I told her we could fight about it later.

It was okay. We arrived at 9. There was a band playing a few songs I recognized, stuff like "Bittersweet Symphony" and "When I Come Around." I mostly sat around the patio making chit chat, gravitating toward the girls until the got picked up one by one by the guys.

By 11, I was feeling pretty antsy. Some of what Meg was saying was getting to me, about needing to stay around the Inn, how it was unpredictable and how me not being there could really mess things up.  I started to feel a bit self conscious... I may not be getting my body back like Meg, but I still plan to give Lauren hers. I thought about how Meg didn't even stay the night when she changed into Tasha... I wonder if I could have the opposite problem.

So around then, I went and found Trevor (who had made a few early, lame attempts to hit on me and then gave up) and told him I needed to go back to the Inn. He told me to chill, the night was just getting started, I was a big girl and my "sister" shouldn't worry about me. I told him I just wasn't feeling it anymore.

He told me to have a nice walk.

Ugh, okay. So in the moment I didn't really have a problem with this... it was a 40-minute walk back to the Inn, mostly in darkness, but I could stand it. But the longer I walked, the more I remembered I should probably be afraid. I have a certain amount of self-defence training, but I received it when I was bigger and could fight differently. Some basics are transferable but I guess I really wasn't thinking at first about how much of a target I could have been.

It hit me when I was about halfway home and I saw a group of guys coming the other way and I was seized with fear so strong I had to go hide in some bushes.

Now, they passed by, probably harmlessly, paid me no notice, and I felt not only the leftover panic-adrenaline, but also foolish. I wanted to sprint home, but I was in sandals.

Sometimes, being a girl doesn't agree with me.

When I got to the Inn, around quarter after midnight, Trevor's parents were playing cards. I debated telling them their son had left me to fend for myself, but instead explained that I had elected to leave on my own. I was pretty ashamed of myself, but they're going to have enough on their plate in the next few days... with any luck.

Today, Trevor feigned interest by asking if I had gotten home okay. Obviously I had. I asked him, coldly, if he had a nice time the rest of the night. He told me about this girl he was dancing with, "her tits were two-handers."

"How nice for you," I said, walking away. Meg and I had agreed to go to brunch with Rosie and Erin, and afterwards just lazed around talking about nothing in particular (which was a nice change of pace from some of the serious conversations we've been having lately.)

At one pint, Kitty came up to me and told me that I had woken her up when I came home the night before, and it was rude of me not to think of the others sharing this small space with me. I had to roll my eyes at that one. "Thanks for the input," I sighed in my most dismissive teen girl way possible, and tried to convince myself not to be glad if something really bad happens to her in the transformation.

This place is really starting to lose its appeal. The change better happen soon.

Tyler/Lauren: Filling/killing time

The temperature shot up today, to the point where sitting in the stuffy Inn was no longer appealing to Meg. She finally relented and let me take her out in the sun.

We went down by the beach. Meg wore a modest one-piece under a pair of cutoffs and a tank top. It seemed designed to keep her stuff in. I wore a blue two-piece designed to do the opposite, under a flowery light dress.

Meg has asked from time to time, how I can be comfortable dressing this way, if I'm a man inside. The truth escapes me. One day I woke up and decided I was cool with it - it's as simple as that. Some days I don't, and just opt for jeans and a sweater, but having the option, why not explore it? It'll be gone soon anyway, and it'll just be part of my past.

Alternatively, I'm a girl forever and I should just embrace it anyway. Whatever - zen.

I think it's just a product of being among teens for so long. I got sick of girls hearing "Don't wear low cut tops because it'll distract the boys" that I started wearing them out of spite. I hated being told what to be, being treated like I was at fault for other peoples' backwards attitudes, like I had no agency in my life... the frustration of a real teenage girl. Nobody takes them seriously. And sometimes, they don't deserve it - they like a lot of shallow things, they're fickle, they have ever-changing atittudes based on what's hot at the time - but they also have a lot of ideas, more awareness of the world than they get credit for. Especially the amount of time these kids spend on the internet exposing themselves to new ideas and other cultures. No wonder they want to assert their independence, and I'm right there with them, in a form fitting bikini, if I wanna be.

It's not to flirt, I can tell you that much. If people need to glance, that's their business as long as they don't breach my personal space. No boys, no girls, nobody could approach me these days without being rebuffed. I'm not interested. I hate the idea that the way I'm dressed invites people to come talk to me. Perhaps it does send that signal, but my attitude will send the opposite one. And maybe these guys will learn a lesson.

I did some frolicking in the sand and surf, but the beach was crowded. Meg mostly stayed back in the shade, reading. She said that was something that kept her sane, spending an afternoon in the empty apartment, able to forget whose life she had when she was absorbed in a book.

Back at the Inn, we caught up with those girls I noticed the other day: Erin and Rosie. They both appear to be in their late 20's. Erin is petite and bookish looking with long dark hair. Rosie is a bigger girl, and didn't say much. I think she was expecting some rude treatment from the "hot girls." I hate people laying preconceptions on me just because of how I look, but I can't really blame them. That's the culture. Women are pitted against each other.

Erin commented that she had seen me around the other day and wondered "Who I belonged to," assuming I was with the middle-aged couple who checked in earlier. I scoffed. That would be Chet and Kitty. Chet's an upper-management type and Kitty has a "real housewives" vibe about her. They introduced themselves in passing when I said "You must be the ones making all that noise last night." He sort of half-apologized and slanted the blame onto Kitty.

Meg and I had a "girl's night" with Erin and Rosie. We mentioned it was our second time at the Inn in case that meant anything, but it didn't appear to. They talked about what brought them to Maine, and we gave a version of our story.

When we got to the Inn, Meg thanked me for getting her out of her room, but said she was still gonna be careful and make it an early night, and I admitted all that fun in the sun had worn me out too. We hugged good night, and I went back to my room to write this.

I regret being so friendly with Erin and Rosie, though... now I'm a little worried what might happen to them.

Tyler/Lauren: Last days

This could be the last post written by the hands of Lauren Sherman.

It's kinda weird, looking down at these dainty little fingers and realizing they'll be different soon. Maybe they'll be rougher, manlier... fatter? Older, I hope.

I don't want to be a kid anymore. I don't want to be told what to do or when to go to bed. Lauren doesn't even have a particularly bad life, but it clashed badly with my desire to be free. I don't want to get up and go to school in the mornings, I want to work, contribute to society, find my own path. I'd prefer it to be as a male, but honestly I could deal with being a chick for another year. Maybe not one who looks like Meg as Tasha, but who knows.

And yeah, as Meg said in her post, I have a lot of hopes for what might happen if the stars line up and I get a body that works for me (and her.) I'm aware it might not work out but I don't care. There's no sense fretting it, since this whole experience has taught me how much shit in the universe is beyond our control. I don't mind floating on the breeze a while.

Meg said that I've become zen in the last few moths. Sounds cool.

She can feel free to hole herself up in her room if she wants, but as it's all the same to me, I've been wandering around the town. I've thought about trying my luck in a bar despite my ID saying 18, but the idea of going in unaccompanied looking the way I do scares me stupid, even after all this time (a weird effect of my current persona contradicting my old one: sometimes forgetting to be afraid.) We've got some beers back at the Inn, but I feel the desire to be sociable. The weather's nice enough to take a walk but, predictably for Maine, not nice enough to spend all day in a bikini. I don't mind that, but I did bring one, and some sundresses if it gets hotter.

I strolled down the boardwalk, had a coffee and did some people-watching (and using the coffee shop wifi to write this post) but there wasn't much going on. I texted Meg to say I missed her presence, and she said she'd consider coming out for a few hours... tomorrow, if we still looked this way. Ok, great.

For now, though, I'm heading back to the Inn. There were some new arrivals yesterday, some girls who are close to Meg's and my real ages that I might be able to talk to, before we all become God-knows-what. Wish I could warn them, prepare them for what's ahead, but if I want to be taken seriously I'd best not.

Still, maybe if I direct them to this blog, tell them to log in the way I did at first... maybe you'll get some more new names to memorize soon.

Meg/Tasha: Holding...

For reasons of scheduling, we waited until after the July 4th Weekend to trek up here. It was a long drive that exhausted us both, and I'm not really keen to actually go out and "enjoy" my vacation in any meaningful way. Which sucks, because after the inevitable shit hits the fan we are going to be too preoccupied to do anything anyway. And then there's the fact that we still don't really know what's going to become of Tyler.

He's being too casual about this for my liking. We had that whole talk about how it doesn't really matter how he ends up, but I think it does. He could find himself with a job or responsibilities he's not accustomed to, a family that he can't deal with, any number of things. I look at what's going on with Lane/"Kari" on the blog right now and I think that is the same future that awaits my friend. Not that he hasn't already been through enough. I could see the idea of being a bit numb to the possibilities now, but I feel like things are going to come crashing down.

But he's very quick to point out, he hasn't exactly got much choice in the matter. He doesn't get to pick his own body, and staying as Lauren is unthinkable. So it's a roll of the dice. I wish I could have his confidence.

I don't even feel sure if I'm going to get my body back. We arrived late on Tuesday, the only ones here from the looks of it, and I rushed to my room - at the far end of the hall from Ty's - and immediately tore it apart. And there it all was waiting for me. My clothes, my shoes, an ID saying "MEGHAN REIS." It's me in a bag. Just waiting for the cue. I want to thank Carrie for doing her best in this situation.

But I know things can go sideways, from reading old posts. I am camped out in this room, clutching my old life in case that's what it takes. Tyler is trying to talk me down and drag me out of the room, since the Inn does not yet appear to be "full," but so far I just can't bring myself to let this slip away. I would never forgive myself if I came home late one night and the transformation had already somehow been triggered and we lost our chance to leave these bodies with their rightful owners.

I've mostly just been enjoying the privacy, and I encouraged Ty to do the same. I've been in a scenario where I haven't had a good night's sleep in a bed alone in a year, and he's had to share a room with Lauren's little sister, as well as every other square inch of space with her family, so a little peace and quiet is really all I want.

We've been talking a bit, especially on the drive up. There was a lot I wanted to say, but I couldn't bring myself to spill it when we were in the car, because I didn't want him to feel trapped. It was hard to find ways to fill the silence for an 11-hour car trip (nearly 13 with breaks) but we talked a lot about our experiences this past year, things we liked and didn't like, things that surprised us, things we learned and maybe would carry forward in the future.

I learned a lot about being in a couple. About making sacrifices. Yes, I was resentful about some of those, due to it not being my relationship to sacrifice for, but still. I grew accustomed to putting someone else's needs before mine, and in return I found several occasions where he put my needs before his.

I learned what it was like to have someone look you in the eye, and tell you unconditionally that they love you, and honestly there were a few times I believed it was for me, not the woman I appeared to be. It kinda maybe messed me up a bit.

When we got to the Inn, it was nearly midnight and I was tired of driving. I laid down on the bed and clutched a pillow. I almost wanted to cry from happiness or exhaustion. Tyler started rubbing my shoulders, and that somehow made it worse.

"We were here a year ago," I said, "I can't believe how much has happened since then."

"Feels like just yesterday," he said.

"Or a lifetime ago," I answered. "So, did you check your room yet?"

"Enough bags for two people," he said, "It's only a one-person room, so who knows. I'm gonna wait before I go poking around in it."

"I don't know how you aren't just dying to know."

"I don't want to get my hopes up," he shrugged.

"I guess that's fair," I said. "It's just... what if you end up with someone that... God, how do I put this? ...Tyler, I think it's fair to say you have feelings for me."

He paused for a moment and bit his little lip, looking deep into my eyes with Lauren's soulful blue ones. "Uh huh."

I took a deep breath. "What if it doesn't work out?"

"It'll work out," he said, insistently.

"What if it doesn't?" I said, "What if you're a kid, what if you're an old lady. Do you expect me to be able to have a relationship with you like that? I don't want you to think I'm superficial, but there are limits, aren't there?"

"No, that's fair," he said, "I just don't think it's going to happen. If it does, we'll worry about it then."

I was getting frustrated. "What if you're someone who's married, what if you have to go across the country and keep pretending to be someone else again? Do you expect me to wait here for you?"

"We'll worry about it then."

"What if you realize you don't like the real me?" I could feel the tears really coming now. "What if you've gotten so used to seeing me this way that the real Meghan is a disappointment?"

He wrapped his skinny arms around me.

"I won't. You're not."

Then I said what was really bothering me. "What if I just want to be alone for a while?"

And he said, "Then you'll call me when you don't anymore."

That jerk was saying all the right things and it was pissing me off.

"I don't want you to feel like you waited for nothing," I said.

He paused for a while before saying, "You know my feelings. They haven't changed, except maybe gotten stronger the longer I've known you. You can do whatever you want with them, and obviously I hope things go a certain way. But it's up to you. Just know I will always be here for you, no matter what happens or what we look like."

"I don't want to hurt you," was all I said.

"It'll be okay," he said back, "It's all gonna be okay."

I almost believe him.

In the morning, I heard some other people start to come on. A couple, middle-aged I think, who were bantering loudly back and forth. It seemed sort of like a fight but maybe just the snippy way they communicate with each other is the result of being together for 20 or so years. There might be some others who stopped by to drop things off, but it's hard to tell how many from footsteps and murmured voices... I still have hardly left my room.

Lane/Kari: Gainful Employment

I think the reason a lot of people transformed by the inn come to this blog is because its a great resource. Its the collective stories and experiences of several people and odds are there is something contained in the archives that people can relate too. I've found tons of useful advice on how to be a girl after being a guy, and I breathed a sigh of joy when I got to the Anne-Marie posts about having to deal with motherhood, although I haven't read all of them yet.

I almost feel a duty to write here because nobody else has had to deal with not having a note to guide them. Its a lot more difficult to have to scratch out clues of who you are now without one so I'm hoping my posts can serve as a survival guide to piecing together a new identity.

Faced with the reality of not only being responsible for my own survival this year, but also the survival of a young, albeit very independent, teenager. Looking at our empty fridge and my even emptier purse, I was going to have to find out what Kari did for money. I assumed that after almost a month off I'd be fired but what skills and experience she'd have would be relevant in finding something else. I couldn't just go up to Ashley and say "By the way, do you remember where I work?" because she would look at me like she thought I was dumber than she already thinks I am. (The angst is strong with this one)

So, for future reference, here is a good way to find out if your new body has a job and where. I went looking for any banking information and found a debit card to a local bank. I made it down there on Saturday right before they closed and asked for a printout of my recent account activity. I didn't have to know my account number, I just had to show them ID to prove I was who I said I was (or at least looked like her) and I had a list of every checking account transaction for the last 6 months.

I got lucky because hidden among frequent withdrawals were regular deposits every two weeks, clearly some sort of direct deposit. The deposits were from "LTHRMAN FIN", which when you type into Google brings up "Did you mean Latherman Financial?" which is a small investing firm headquartered in Detroit. The phone number listed matched one that had been dialed but not saved by Kari's cell phone so I figured it was a safe bet that she worked there.

Hopefully that part can be useful, because now its time for the creepy part.

Monday morning I had put on the closest thing I could find in the way of work attire which was a pair of very tight knit gray pants that left little to the imagination in ways of curves and required a thong and a blouse that was the best combination of professional style and cleavage coverage out of anything I could find and hopped in my new bland car and drove a few miles up I-75 to downtown Detroit.

Latherman Financial's office was on the floor of a renovated office building in a fairly nice area of downtown. When I walked through the door the lady at the reception's eyes bugged out looking a combination of upset and relieved to see me. "There you are. He's been having me cover for you the whole time you were gone. I'm sick of answering phones."

I tried to hide the disappointment in my eyes, but I think I failed. She pretty much confirmed that Kari was the receptionist. When I had first seen that my new job was in finance, a field which I had experience in in my real life, I thought maybe I'd be able to lend my expertise. Clearly from Kari's car and apartment she couldn't have been something high powered like I was, but I would have liked to do some work that I enjoyed. Instead its gonna be a year of answering phones or worse.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

I sincerely thought I was fired when I went in that morning and being told that Mr. Latherman wanted to see me by the receptionist (who I later found out was named Joanne) made me feel like I was about to face a firing squad. I entered an office which was nice, but was a bit modest for a CEO. I don't know what kind of finances or volume this company does but it can't be that high because my office had a nicer view and classier decorations at my own job.

Nick Latherman was a man in his 40s with a full head of hear with sophisticated graying who looked to be in pretty good shape. His face lit up when he saw me, which I was not expecting.

"You're back" He said "I was afraid we were going to have to report you missing"

"Mr Latherman I'm so sorry for--" I began

"Don't worry about it. You needed a break" He interrupted "And drop that Mr. Latherman stuff, its just us"

"There was an issue with the flight and--" I tried to explain

"Kari, you don't need to make excuses" He said in a calming tone "You deserved a vacation and that little inn was amazing."

I froze. "You...you know about the inn?" I asked slowly

"You didn't change hotels right? The little independent one on the beach in Old Orchard, right? It was so quaint and beautiful. I wish I hadn't had to get back here early and leave you there by yourself."

It took a minute for that to sink in for me so I'll spell it out for you.

1. Mr. Latherman, Kari's boss, was on the trip that had taken her to the Trading Post Inn but had left before the curse had taken hold and thus managed to avoid being transformed.

and

2. Mr. Latherman had taken his receptionist on a trip that probably didn't require a receptionist so Kari was probably with him for...other reasons.

I wanted to believe it wasn't so. That there wasn't anything going on between the two of them. I looked at the smiling pictures of his wife and daughter on his desk and hoped that he and Kari weren't having an affair but the way he was talking to me and the way he was looking at me made it clear.

I sat there in silence at this man who had probably seen this body naked more times that I had at that point, not knowing what to say or how to react or what the etiquette is when you find out your body has sex with someone else so I just quietly made my way back to reception.

I bluffed my way through the short work week, avoiding eye contact wher ever possible.

-Kari

PS: If you've noticed I changed my new name to Kari because after talking to people who know her its clear that "Karina" is the name on the ID only and that friends and family and everyone else calls her Kari, so I'm gonna go with that.

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.