Arthur/Penny/Millie: A Christmas Card!

The big news first - we got a Christmas card from Millie!  Ray and I were kind of paranoid about whether it was the real deal at first, because one of his current cases is an identity theft thing and we would be very easily catfished in this situation.  Fortunately, we've got some of Millie's handwriting to compare, and it looks the same, albeit bigger.

It doesn't really say anything that helps us find her, except that she's "visiting family" for Christmas and the downtime is really making her miss home.  It also means we can't tell much from the postmark, since she's not where she usually is. 

It was kind of a relief, though, because Christmas has been a lot of going through the motions, as Ray, Harmon, and I didn't really feel like shopping, but Ray and I have friends who like hitting the holiday fairs with us, and Millie is still a kid, albeit a teenager (or "tween", I guess), which means her friends are very excited but there's a lot of eye rolling at what they get, so we kind of did it anyway.  I wound up doing a lot of shopping for Millie saying I was shopping for friends, and kind of hoping she won't mind if it's lightly used when she got back, and also for Ray and Harmon. 

Christmas morning was kind of strange, obviously, because none of us wanted to act things out for the others, but Ray did get me a couple things, and then there was Harmon.  It would seem rude not to get her anything, but the things she's been dropping hints for are outfits and accessories, because apparently her time as Alicia has her thinking I haven't really been making the most of what I have.  We try to make it clear that this is kind of inappropriate, as she may not be able to take it with him, but she shrugs out off, saying you've got to live for today.  I've mostly gotten her books and such anyway. 

We've also spent the last week splitting the work of grading midterms, which had been interesting.  I'm a lot more sympathetic to some of what the students do that would probably have rubbed me wrong a year ago, and we both have different skills when it comes to spotting when students use AI.  It's kind of an uneasy truce situation right now, because she's discovering that junior high will wear you down, no matter how energetic, and also groaning about communicating with my editor and setting up signings for the new book.  I think she thought that school vacation was going to be vacation for her as well, but, ha!

Still, heard from my daughter, so I can't get too upset.

-Arthur/Penny/Millie

Tom/Kiara: Custody

I could tear my hair out.

You haven't seen a lot of me on this blog lately, and that's largely because my life is frankly terrible. Between trying to put the finishing touches on this industry-rocking story that is probably not going to get published, I have to do homework, track down the real Kiara, and oh yeah, raise a baby.

I should be thankful for the immense support system I have with the women in Kiara's life, but all I can think is that none of them should be in this position. This stupid girl got pregnant at 16 when she was in no position to capably raise a child, and her mom and grandma just stepped up like that was a normal part of life, like that was kind of what they were expecting all along. Between the three of us, we make for two pretty good parents I guess. And then there's Baby-daddy.

Sienna's dad is a dirtbag kid named Byrd. Personally, I can't stand the sight of him. Dead-eyed, greasy mullet hair, stinks of B.O. He has custody every other weekend, which is a relief in some ways and a frustration in others because I always feel like I have to check his work. I'm relatively new to this, but I am a functioning adult and I know the baby's habits and needs pretty well at this point.

Byrd's parents have been pressuring me to give up custody. They both work, they're in a better financial situation than Kiara's family. Byrd dropped out of high school to do drywall for his dad's company so he has income too (which he contributes to Kiara) and giving the baby over to them would make a certain level of financial sense by consolidating all of that, but while they may have more money, what they don't have is time and resources. Sienna is getting better care here, whether it's with me or Kiara's family. Personally I think the kid needs more stability. I'm not trying to deny Byrd his rights -- strictly speaking, he's got more rights than I do, I'm just trying to do what is best for the baby. Add to that, I still have it in the back of my mind that I could coax Kiara into taking her life back if I could find her, and I would like to keep it as close to how it was when she left it as possible.

I struggle with whether I'm doing the right thing. If giving the baby up is selfish, or if holding onto her is.

There is a complicating factor here, which is that Byrd has recently started dating someone new. And that someone is Kiara's younger sister Cerie. Yes, it's deeply messed up. They're out to all hours getting drunk and high, which would be fine if they were normal teenagers, but I've made it clear to Byrd that if he wants me to consider handing the baby over to him he would have to clean up his act. "I can't let this girl fall into the hands of such an immature kid."

"I'm older than you!" he counters.

"Only on paper," I sneer back.

And then there are nights I'm awake until 2 AM and she won't stop crying because this teething thing is going badly and I've got an exam I haven't studied for, and I think "I should just throw in the towel."

Whoever did this to me really had it in for me.

Then Christmas comes and despite the huge financial burden, we get her dressed up in a little red dress to see Santa and "open" her gifts on Christmas (she doesn't know what's going on but she seems to like ripping paper and banging on boxes) and my heart melts into my uterus. I love the kid. For all she cries and poops and grabs things she is not supposed to, she is adorable and gettig that little kiss from her and listening to her babble makes me think she is the most precious and important thing in theworld and I need to protect and nurture her at all costs. I hate being a mommy but I love the kid. Make it make sense.

-More-Kiara-Than-Tom 

Marc/Dustin: A House Divided

As you might expect, the last several weeks between me and Dakota have been more about exploring our physical connection than about debating the philosophy behind our coupling or the way we live our lives. There are certainly a lot of unanswered ethical questions about who we really are and whether we should be doing this, and we could very well debate them all night every night, as two the very argumentative people we are. But there's an overriding principle that seems to be guiding us in our actions, which is... well, we're pretty hot for each other.

I'm sorry, but after this sentence I won't apologize for it any further. Physically, we are two young, desirable people in close quarters. We know and trust each other -- to a certain extent -- and are in a position to make this decision. It's certainly less problematic than John's and my first dalliance. Call it rationalization, call it horniness. It's part of the human experience and after many confusing years there's a relief in cutting the knot.

We are, proverbially, going at it like a couple of kids.

In the midst of all this, I began to get tired of saying "Dakota, Dakota." I can't call her "John" because she's "not John" and doesn't wished to be called as such. But if you try saying the name "Dakota" a hundred times per day in a variety of contexts you find yourself tripping over the syllables. "Can we shorten it? That'll give you something to feel like your own person."

She thought, and I thought, and we sounded fumbled through it together. "Dak, no. Kota... still a little clunky... Dee, too short for me... Ko... hm... Kody? Kodi?" We kept repeating it. She wrote it a few times to test her preferred spelling, settling on "Koti" for what she termed its "Certain offbeat childish Gen Z cuteness."

We then found a way to awkwardly premiere her new preferred shorthand. "Koti this, Koti that." Maddy and Charly were into it. "Cassie" pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, I'm not sure what she was thinking about it. Was I getting too chummy with her husband? Had I crossed a line that was somehow worse than the dating and sex?

"Don't worry about her," Koti said dismissively.

And so, it was the Dustin and Koti show all month, mostly a private engagement. There's the physical side, and then afterward we tend to engage in weird post-coital pillow talk where she'll be like, "Look at this article I saw about the way they're foisting so-called A.I on teachers," and "I realized yesterday I kind of look like Grace Kelly. Look her up, don't we have the same eyes?" (Flattering herself just a bit there.)

We spend so much time in our own little pocket universe that it's a bit of a shock sometimes to be reminded there's a world outside our bedroom door.

So when we got the news that "Cassie" was arranging a birthday party for P.J., we were a little startled out of our bubble. It seems that Mary found out that P.J.'s birthday is only a few days before Christmas and they tend to get sidelined, so she decided they should have their own day. The rest of the house took up the idea, assigning Koti to please whip up a batch of her famous vegan cupcakes. This Koti certainly isn't a baker or a decorator, but it was apparently one of the original's famous skills.

"I'll have to politely decline, I'll find something else to do that day."

"Oh, why not? These are our housemates, and we like them. Well, some of them."

"They're expecting cupcakes. Vegan cupcakes. They'll taste like dry cat food."

"They seem to like them. Koti, we can't just stay in our room and screw all day every day."

"And why not? We're adults, we've earned that right."

"If you won't, I will. I'll call up Dakota and ask her how to make the damn cupcakes and I'll pretend you did. And you can hide in our room and pretend to be sick."

"That would be the second-meanest thing you've ever done to me," she pouted. That's kind of her catch-phrase, she's not serious about it. (We all know what the meanest was.)

In the end, Koti backed down, with the ground rules being that I was not to have any unsupervised conversations with Ifena (Koti can be... jealous) and that Koti wouldn't pick any fights with the birthday person. We made the cupcakes together, on a video call with the real Dakota.

The party started out fine, but after a little while we realized it was kind of a soft debut for... Cassie and P.J. as a couple. Not that they were throwing it in anybody's face, but we saw them brushing up against each other, cuddling on the couch, just generally giving off coupley vibes.

"Cassie," Koti said, trying to look as intimidating as possible with her arms crossed looking up at the much larger Cassie, "May Dustin and I speak to you privately?"

We all marched up to the bedroom. Mary stood in the corner looking bored while Koti paced and raved.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?! How on Earth could you think this is appropriate?"

"I'm living my life," Mary shrugged. "Well, Cassie's life."

"This is beyond the pale!" Koti hissed. "You are fucking with people's lives!"

"Oh, I told Cassie," Mary said. "She was quite flattered. P.J. was simply picking up on a pre-existing flirtation. I'm a matchmaker." She smiled proudly.

"You... you can't..." Koti sputtered.

"Everyone involved wants this. How it is any of your business?"

"It's... an unnecessary complication!"

"Explain to me the difference between what you two do, and what you have seen between me and P.J."

"It's obvious!" Koti said, moderating her voice to a harsh stage whisper. "P.J. is not one of us! You can't be dragging h--them into our shit! Dustin, back me up here!"

"I tend to agree," I said, admittedly non-committally, "In my experience, you kind of need to keep people at arm's length, romantically, if they're not, you know, along for the ride."

"Thank you," Koti said.

"But I don't think we can dictate to Mary how to go through this experience."

"What?!"

I heaved a sigh. "Just because I would make different decisions, I don't think I can say it's the wrong way to do things here. It's sort of a gray area. All the involved parties have signed off on it, seemingly. Is somebody going to get hurt? I mean, maybe, but that's their business. There's an argument to be made that by rebuffing P.J., Mary would be having a negative effect on their, and Cassie's, lives anyway, by putting off whatever was supposedly building between them. There's precedent for all of this."

I also noted that it might make a difference on some level whether Mary was doing it for herself or for Cassie, but from our perspective there isn't any difference and it doesn't matter.

"I can't believe this," Koti fumed.

"I'm not on board, but like I said, it's out of my jurisdiction. It's not my mistake to make, and not my job to prevent them from it. Above all else, it's sort of consistent with my position that you've got to find ways to enjoy this experience and live life. I leave it to Mary to define this experience however she wants, and deal with the consequences."

"Can you be my fucking partner for ten seconds and get on my side?" Koti spat.

"I am on your side, but I can't condone trying to impose our will on the situation. All we can do is wash our hands of it."

"Both of you get out of my room," Koti sneered.

"Koti..."

"John..."

"Now!"

Mary and I stepped out and walked down the hall to where our conversation would be less audible.

"Okay, is there something else going on here?"

Mary let out a sigh, her posture tensing up. "John really doesn't like P.J.," she noted.

"I know that."

"He's been suspicious of them from day one, that they were coming between us a little bit. You know, they helped me get my Etsy shop off the ground, and we spent a lot of time together..." (I haven't mentioned Mary's Etsy shop, where she sells crochet stuff, but yeah, I guess it was sort of done with P.J.'s assistance.)

"That's kind of why I pushed John toward you," Mary said with a sigh, "There was this anger that had nowhere to go, and there wasn't anything romantic happening in these bodies for us. I didn't expect it to blossom between you two the way it has, but part of me did hope that it would help him."

I narrowed my eyes at Mary. "Help him how?"

"Well, you didn't know John as a man, so I guess you might not have caught onto this... and I don't know how much he's told you about himself, but... he's kind of bisexual."

I raised an eyebrow. "You... know this?"

"Honey, I've been married to him for a long time," he furrowed her brow. "You notice things after a while."

"Has he ever... to your knowledge...?" My heart began to pound. It was so easy to pretend like this was all some big secret but maybe it wasn't.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know, but I have a lot of complicated theories about that year he was supposedly in 'Florida.'"

"Oh?"

"Well, at first I assumed he was partying with boys. Then he got back and he was so keen to go to Maine, and after we transformed I thought... son of a bitch, he knew this was going to happen."

"You really think so?"

"Things add up," she shrugged, "I don't know what to believe and I'm probably happier not knowing. I don't think I want to talk about it. But there's no point in accusing him of it. He'll deny it. Call me crazy. Swear up and down he didn't want this and make like he's a martyr for letting you screw him. He has some really messed-up things to say about you, about how you manipulated and pressured him into sex, but don't worry, I don't believe him. Nobody's making that guy do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Thanks..." I said, heavy-heartedly.

"John will never be happy," Mary said, "He just wants everyone to be as miserable as he is."

"And you married him?"

"I love the guy," she shrugged. "I should get back."

With that, she went back downstairs, and I was left contemplating just what I was mixed up in. Koti and I have fun together, but being with Koti -- with John -- is an intricate web of deceit, frustration, and double-talk. Who is she really?

I slept on the floor that night. We reconciled in the morning, calling a detente and agreeing not to talk about it as much as possible and just enjoy the holidays, paying no mind to what was happening between P.J. and Mary/Cassie.

For Christmas I gave her a unisex necklace that I figured she could take with her through various lives, whatever ends up happening. Her gift to me was not something you would buy at a store, and maybe to be sensitive, not something I should mention on the blog.

A new year will be upon us soon, and yet another shuffling of the deck on the horizon.

-Marc/Dustin

Toby: Dunia's Dream Job

Hey, it's been a while, but apparently which flight attendant crew works which flights or gets any time off at all during the busy part of the year is based on seniority, and I'm absolutely the lowest on the totem pole, so the past month in particular has just been crazy, especially considering things were kind of slow before that, although sort of frustrating because of how all this works. 

I was kind of a nervous wreck that first day, because I'd never been on a plane before, and while I crammed all the manuals and stuff more than I had ever studied for a test in high school, this seemed like it would be really different.  I tried to tell myself that I picked up how to work any piece of big equipment that got thrown at me on the farms pretty quickly, and it's not like I would be flying the plane, but I still feel kind of awkward walking around as Dunia on level, non-moving ground, and should probably consider myself fortunate that high heels aren't part of the uniform.  Dunia likes her wedges, but I'm in sneakers or sandals most of the time. 

I got to the airport early on the first day - in addition to never having been on a plane before, I hadn't used a bus since junior high and wanted to give myself enough time - feeling kind of ridiculous in my uniform with the little neck scarf and hat, afraid I'd suddenly turn back to myself and look ridiculous, or that I'd be stopped when I tried to use my employee ID to bypass the line for passengers.  You'd think I'd give off some sort of wrong vibe, but apparently not. 

Or maybe I do but people just assume it's for something else, like it just being your first day in a new job.  There was a three-person cabin crew that first day and for most of the first month, because we were assigned to a fairly small plane doing shuttle flights between Miami and Atlanta, and when I got there, I was greeted by a Latina woman a few years older than me who introduced herself as Rosa and looked at me a little strange, but that was apparently because I wasn't wearing nearly as much makeup as she thought I should.  "You're very pretty without it," she said, "but people expect a more visible effort, you know?  Like, people get nervous flying,  and want to see you looking like you're ready for anything.  Especially you and me, you know?"

I didn't, but apparently a lot of Latina women go really heavy on the makeup, or at least that's the stereotype.  I've been Dunia for nearly three months now and it seems like a lot of lines that seem very clear back home are blurry here.  I'd brought some cosmetics in my bag - at the time I was just starting to figure them out, but at least grasped that I might have to fix something mid-air, before finding out what things cost in airport terminals - and Rosa knew exactly what to do, even with my darker skin.  By the time she was done, I wasn't sure what I thought, because it was the kind of look that kind of works for me even though I always tell myself that I like girls who don't use a lot of makeup more, so I was kind of judging myself in a couple ways, but also thinking that, yeah, this is kind of what looks appropriate for someone in this kind of job, like, kind of fake, but in a way that says you're at work and trying to present yourself well and this maybe isn't who you are in the off hours. 

It was pretty close to time to report to our gate when Lambert ran into the ladies' room right past us so he could puke in a stall.  Rosa's eyes went wide - she later confessed that she was having flashbacks to someone at a different job who showed up hungover a lot - and I shooed her out, saying we'd spent the last few weeks together.  Once I was pretty sure there were no actual girls in the room, I walked over.  "You okay, dude?"

He looked down at a bit of his hair that had gotten in the way, thinking a bit before reaching for some toilet paper to wipe it off.  "Man, I can't do this.  I get so nauseous and half the time I take Nyquil or something before takeoff!  I should just go in and quit!"

"Hey, don't leave me alone!  Just think, I don't think Dunia would want this job so much if it wasn't a good one.  Besides, you've got Alicia's stomach and inner ear or whatever, so you shouldn't get airsick, right?  They've been doing this job for years."

He didn't look totally convinced, but didn't say anything.  We got his hair cleaned up the best we could with hand soap and paper towels, and then got to work. 

That first day was kind of strange in every way, but Lambert and I both did okay.  Miami to Atlanta is a short enough flight that we barely have time to do anything between takeoff and landing, although some folks just absolutely need a coffee in midair, or more often one of those little bottles of alcohol to calm their nerves.  Confidentially, I kind of think half of them are just looking to have one of us lean over a row of seats so that they can reach up and "accidentally" touch our boobs.  I flinched pretty badly the first couple times, but after that I just sort of figured that's what guys were going to do.  My butt was also a very tempting target, and I kind of like that even less.  Boobs are just weird and don't belong on my body, so I don't really feel upset like I do at having my butt slapped by a man, which feels really inappropriate. 

Lambert has bigger boobs than me, so he was more of a target for that, but he seemed to get over his fear of flying pretty quickly.  Maybe It's just that Alicia/Harmon got used to it on a way that transferred over to him, but i think he just likes bossing people around more than he hates flying.  Not that he can really boss the passengers around, but he can raise his voice when warranted, and he really puts on a good show of being senior to me and Rosa.

It's not so bad once you get used to the weird sensation of the plane moving.  Apparently Harmon called it being "a glorified waitress", but I kind of prefer it to farm work.  There are a lot of people who are kind of jerks either because they're nervous or just jerks - my mom is a waitress on the ground and she's got stories! - but you kind of get used to it. 

The pays not really great, though, I guess because it's a job that a lot of people think would be fun for a while, but also because you don't really get paid while you're in the airport.  I gather some airlines don't start paying you until the cabin doors close before takeoff or after they open on landing, even though dealing with people who act like what they were told about carry-on bags doesn't apply to them is maybe the most frustrating part of the job, but you definitely don't get paid for the time between working a flight from Miami to Atlanta and the one back.  Even on days when you've got three round trips, that's not quite 8 hours of work even though you're out of the house early and back late, and before holiday travel started, we didn't have a lot of those full days.  I don't find it a huge problem - farmers back home love to find ways to keep you off the clock and I don't have a lot of living expenses starting with Dunia's father - but it really pisses Lambert off, especially when we wind up sick in the Atlanta airport of a few hours and he's boxing about how this isn't helping pay the rent on Alicia's apartment.

Dunia kind of eats every detail about it up, though, demanding I fill her Instagram up with pictures from her first day and anything interesting that happened afterwards, and kind of loves cute selfies of me/her/us in the uniform.  I joked about her being a pervy old man once and she seemed hurt, and I get it; she'll have all these first times in a few months but she'll have to act like they're old hat and wants to have some sort of record of the way she's going to feel.  And it's not like I'm not kind of enjoying it.  It's kind of nice to put on a uniform and have people kind of jealous of your job and get to help folks like you know what you're doing, and i do look kind of nice.  I could do without folks slapping my ass as I walk by, but they're going to do that to Dunia as she walks to the grocery store.

I'll be kind of glad when the schedule gets a little less crazy in the new year, though, especially since Lambert and I will be resigned to a longer route. 

- Toby

Isaac/Ainsley: Paint By Numbers

Early November...

The other night, I went to a bar a few miles down the road and attended a paint and sip event.

I know, a paint and sip? Only some kind of freakish deviant would ever bother setting foot within fifty feet of one, let alone spending genuine hard-earned money to participate. I might as well have trashed Ainsley's reputation the instant I walked into the building. When she gets word, Ainsley's going to wonder what other horrible things I'm going to do with her life. Couldn't I just stay in a tiny room staring at a wall full of plants like an actual normal person? In her darkest moments she'll lie awake, unable to sleep with thoughts of me using her credit card to buy a p***leball paddle... Perish the thought!

Okay, seriously, going here is aggressively normal for someone like Ainsley. I don't know if she's ever done this before, and nobody at the bar seemed to recognize her, but it'd track. It's asocial weirdos, especially those who are single men, who'd need a convoluted excuse to go to these things. With that said, here's mine: Next week is when I'll be subsumed by a whirlwind of bridesmaid responsibilities. First the bridal shower, then the dress fitting, wedding rehearsal and actual wedding ceremony and reception, all in the span of a couple weeks. I've managed to leverage Ainsley's recent breakup to get myself out of a lot, and I can tell it's hurting her friends, but Ainsley insists on this one. I have to show up. I'm going to have to be Ainsley around people who know her a lot better than her coworkers (many of whom know her fairly well!) and, on the wedding weekend, do it without any breaks.

So I wanted to do something easier, in preparation. I felt like if I could prove to myself that I'm able to go to a social, predominantly female space for a couple of hours, without setting off too many red flags, then at least I could focus on how I don't know the bride or any of Ainsley's friends rather than the fact that I'm not really a hypersocial former sorority sister. Does that make sense?

So I went, arriving a couple minutes late. (I hate being the first person to show up to things, it just attracts attention.) I wore a tank top, jeans, loose cardigan, and Ainsley's gold initials monogram necklace of the kind I've always found annoyingly tacky. It was a good mix of women ranging from Ainsley's age to their mid-fifties, a handful of boyfriends or husbands, and one obviously single guy who, fortunately, didn't seem to latch on to me in particular. They handed us a wine list and I copied the order of a girl a few seats down from me without knowing what it was.

With the sip taken care of, the paint aspect was actually very simple. Turns out these sessions are essentially paint-by-numbers for adults. Or an in-person Bob Ross episode, though Master Sergeant Ross' instructions are usually less specific and more technique-focused than the artist in charge here. I had a handful of emotionally neutral accidents.

Of course, I still had to navigate the inevitable small talk. Going in I was nervous that everyone would look at me and immediately know I'm some kind of fraud, even though none of them have ever met Ainsley before and therefore have no expectations. And I sort of am one, even without getting the Inn involved. I really don't think I fit in with the type of crowd these events get; even if Ainsley's appearance gives the impression that I would. I know I come across as cold to people, Ainsley's coworkers can clearly tell the difference and keep asking me if I'm doing okay. I really believe the way my thought process works, the way I relate to others is different from that of most of the people around me. Not better, just, different. In my own body the way I look and carry myself signifies that immediately, while being Ainsley makes me create a lot of mixed signals. Sets everyone else there up for disappointment once they get some impression of what I'm really like.

But it turned out I didn't need to disappoint anyone; focusing intensely on painting was enough to dissuade a lot of potential small-talkers. Or maybe it's not just marketers who can smell fear. And when I did get questioned beyond the standard name/job/how-long-have-you-been-in-town icebreakers I'd pull what I assume is a very Ainsley move and show off some dog pics. Shoutout to SugarBunny for helping me get out of awkward conversations, for once. I don't know if I'm able to effectively act enthusiasm but nobody seemed bothered, far as I could tell.

Honestly, it was all easy enough that I questioned whether coming there really helped me prepare for anything. Living someone else's life doesn't come with convenient instructions and constant guidance! Well, it does, Ainsley's given me some, but it's impossible to write instructions granular enough to allow one to run on autopilot through any given situation without letting it slip that something's up. And Ainsley's too busy juggling a toddler and a demanding job to give me anything even close to that. (Marvin, the guy in my body, hasn't asked for very much help especially recently and though my own life isn't very complicated I'm starting to get kind of nervous.) I don't get flowcharts for conversations with everyone Ainsley knows. There's no guide for how to force yourself to act (or be) genuinely excited, not really. But this? Painting by numbers, having my every move prescribed, is a relaxing vacation in comparison.

Isaac/Ainsley: An Undoing

Hey everyone-- I'm not dead, and I'm only questionably insane. November was an especially eventful and difficult month for me, as you'll hear about soon enough, and I've only recently worked up the mental energy to finally expand my notes about it into proper blogposts. This one took place about... two months ago!? Holy shit. It was a different time...

You'd think Ainsley and Sara would be able to afford an apartment with thicker walls.

I was in my bedroom at about one in the morning. That's not especially late by my standards, but Ainsley is one of those terrible creatures whose body demands to wake up early regardless of whether it's a workday and I was pretty exhausted. I'd placated SugarBunny, finished Ainsley's skincare routine (honestly, not a bad distraction), and just when I was finally about to go to sleep I heard the door unlock. That's not a strange occurrence by itself; Heather goes out late fairly often, so I could ignore it until I heard a man's voice joking back with her.

I've never had any kind of boundaries talk with Heather but I'd always just, assumed. Why would you ever want to bring anyone into our, our fortress of privacy, the only place in this world we're allowed to be ourselves? Let alone unannounced? At least my freshman roommate had the courtesy to let me know in advance when he'd kick me out. For the first time ever SugarBunny agreed with me on something and he woke up, barking like mad at the interloper and I had to decide whether it's my responsibility to calm him down. Fortunately that shooed them into Heather's room before I could get annoyed enough with the barking to intervene.

Unfortunately I'd rather listen to more of SugarBunny's greatest hits than the sound of my middle-age roommate getting laid. I'm not going to bother describing these two's failure to keep relatively quiet, but they had me giving up on sleeping entirely and working on my knitting project. I've always hated how they feel but I should really invest in some earplugs.

He finally left at around 3:30. I guess it's fortunate that he didn't stay until morning and give him the possibility of encountering me as I'm getting ready for work, but his presence set off SugarBunny again on his way out. That was the last straw, and I left my bedroom to approach Heather in the living room.

"Hey. Can you not--"

"Look, I didn't know your dog was gonna react like that. So, sorry about that."

"He's not my dog, a-and even besides I just mean, the time! I could hear."

"Oh?" My roommate looked like she's just barely holding back a smirk. "Yeah, huh. Well, we had to learn about this place's acoustics one way or another. Hey, I tried, okay? There was a problem with the water at his place and we didn't have anywhere else."

I just nodded. I already regretted starting this conversation at the exact moment I finally could've gotten some sleep. But Heather had to add, "Look, you're allowed to have fun too, y'know?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I had roommates my first time around, this age. I know what it's like, you've got the same right as me."

"So your idea of an apology is to say you'd let me do something you and I both know I obviously wouldn't do?"

"You wouldn't. But you could. I'm just saying."

I can't believe this woman. "No, and I don't know why anyone in, in our situation does it! Seriously! Doesn't any part of having sex in someone else's body feel wrong to you? Like it's violating, somehow? I know, there's no part of the Inn experience which isn't violating, but we don't have any choice in most of it! This is just, does none of this make you, you know, weird you out? At all?"

"Kid, all I said was you can have fun. I'm not the one who said 'sex'."

"Oh come on you were obviously--"

"Uh huh, sure." Heather grinned. "But seriously, you don't get it. And it beats knitting."

"There's nothing wrong with knitting!! I picked it up as a desperation hobby so I don't completely lose it in here. We both lived through the pandemic, I bet you had one too-- you should try it sometime! I can just burn the evidence when we head back to the Inn. Also, in this body I don't have to wonder if anyone's going to look at me weird at a fabric store for-- hey!"

"You're acting exactly like half the angry moms I have to deal with back home, I hope you realize."

"Just answer the question! I feel like I'm losing my mind here and not for the reasons I usually am. I look at that blog, and half that thing is just wall-to-wall sex! 'Oooh, I just found my new body's dildo, what ever am I going to do with it?' 'Should I fuck 'my' ex who keeps texting me, or that guy I met at a bar?' 'Hey everyone. I bet no one here's ever written about what it feels like in a woman's body, here's that 'cause I'm being so original!! Everyone wants to hear about that! There's nothing weird at all!!' Doesn't anyone think that's wrong? The only reason people ever hesitate is because they're weirded out about being the opposite sex and getting their orientation rewired, or they're worried about their own relationship! It's never about if it's ethical to do it in the first place! God!"

If nothing else I think I made Heather also wish she'd just gone to bed.

"You... You need to get your head out of your own ass. Seriously. Are you really a 20-year-old guy? I didn't know anyone half as high-strung as you when I was in college. And Sara was pretty obviously living her life this way to begin with, so it's not like I'm doing anything she wouldn't."

"You didn't even ask?"

"Isaac. You don't. Get it. You don't know what it's like. You're young. You've never... Do you have any idea what this is like for me?"

"No, I don't know what it's like to end up in a life I'm actually capable of enjoying."

"It's not-- Okay it's not just-- Shut up. It would've happened even if I was Ainsley. You don't understand what it's like to get thirty years younger overnight. I was a smoker for twenty years. I quit forever ago but one breath, one breath here makes me... I don't have any joint pain anymore. I don't get migraines, I don't get hot flashes, every waking moment in this body reminds me what I lost. What all of us lose, and we're supposed to shut up and accept it 'cause there's no way to ever get it back so don't even think about it."

She continued. "I feel like everything's been supercharged. Like I'm alive again. Like I can be someone and I have more than an inevitable downhill to look forward to. I, look, I didn't make the right choices, a lot of the time. I got married before I was ready and I wasn't the world's best mom, okay? I did what I could. But you have no choice but to keep on living with your mistakes, after all. There's no escaping your past. At least, there's not supposed to be."

"Ains-- Isaac, you're too young to screw up like I did. I hope you never understand. But am I just, just not supposed to take advantage of this, before we go back and it's all taken away from me again? All at once instead of gradually? I left part of myself behind at this age. For now, this year, I get to find her again. The right way. And you can't stop me. So quit being judgey and maybe focus on not wasting your life, wherever you're living it, you little prude."

I'm only slightly ashamed to admit that I ran off back to my room immediately once staring at heather in silence got too awkward to be sustainable. How does anyone even respond to that? She never actually addressed whether any of what she's doing is wrong and yet I still feel like I'm the asshole. Am I crazy? Am I the only one on the blog who feels this way? What's wrong with me?

I returned to my knitting project instead of going to bed.

Marc/Dustin: Dating Games

You could be forgiven for thinking that my new "relationship" with "Dakota" consisted of nothing but sex. After all, the first few months we knew each other almost entirely took place in Ryan's bed. She's made no secret of her willingness to explore that side. Hell, we share a mattress today, which does get rather "cozy."

The morning after the events of my last post, I woke up to find her gazing at me with those pretty blue eyes. Given the late night I'd had, it was not my usual early start. 

When she noticed I was awake, she purred, "Tell me I wasn't dreaming last night."

"Depends," I said in a low tone, "What do you think happened?"

"I think you asked me to be your girlfriend," she said as she traced a line up my torso with her finger.

"I guess I did," I said with a half-smile. "I mean, I think what I said was, it's too much work to fake it as much as we have been, so we might as well try dating."

"You're such a romantic, it gets me wet," she snarked.

She leaned in and kissed me. That became a full-on make out session, bodies intertwined, hands searching one another.

She could tell my body was getting "revved up," but put the brakes on.

"I do want this, but I want something else, first," she said.

"What's that?" I asked, kissing her neck.

"A date."

I reared back, somewhat surprised. "Pardon?"

"I haven't dated in so long," she said. "The passion went out of my and Mary's relationship, and then with Ryan -- I mean, you -- it was pretty much all physical."

"I recall," I said, blushing as I remember some of the things we were into during our fling.

"I'm a lady," she said, "And I want to be treated as such. I'd like to be romanced at least a little bit."

"Oh, you're a lady?" I teased, picking her lips with mine, "Is that why your hand is on my crotch?"

"I didn't specify what kind of lady," she snickered, then removed her hand. "I want to know that this chemistry is real, before our first time."

"And what if it's not real?" I asked, "What if we find out we actually have nothing to say to each other and there's no spark?"

"Then I guess the sex will just be meaningless," she shrugged.

Arthur/Penny/Millie: Missing Date Night

There are some days when I almost want to return the attention of the various middle-school boys who awkwardly express interest in Millie, just so that I can go through the motions and maybe keep from getting too rusty at certain sorts of social interaction before next summer.  Yes, I'd be indulging certain insistent hormones as well, but I can kind of feel that part of my connection to Ray starting to atrophy and it kind of bothers me, especially because Harmon gets to go through the motions instead of me. 

In some ways, it would have been easier if I'd wound up becoming Millie the last weekend that the Inn was open for the summer.  We could have made excuses for where Penny was that would have been ridiculous but impossible to check, continued to go on what looked like daddy-daughter outings, and explained a while lot by just pulling closer in "Penny's" absence.  Heck, I might have convinced Ray to come with me (or "bring me") to The Changeling for the monthly meet-up.  We would have probably found a bunch of things that just didn't work, but word situations can give you a chance to be creative. 

The other alternative, of course, is for the three of us to just stay out do things as a family in all the time, getting used to each other and maybe making that work, but Ray and I belong to a lot of adult communities:  l socialize with other faculty and staff at the school and have authors groups, he networks with other attorneys and is active in the local Korean-American community, and there are some folks we just hang out with as a couple.  It's kind of gratifying that our absence was noted, but very frustrating to be on the outside looking in, and also kind of seeing a different dynamic forming:  On Halloween, Harmon thought it would be fun to wear one of the flight attendant uniforms from her(*) old life, getting Ray a matching pilot costume.  It was a weird fit; I was a lot taller than she was as Alicia, but Alicia was curvier, so the uniform stretched in different ways.  She also wore heels, which I very seldom did, because while Ray is confident enough in his masculinity to not find it a big deal, other people do.

(*) Pronouns are weird with Harmon.  She's spent years as Alicia, and has certainly embraced presenting herself as feminine, but there's a very masculine vibe to her and the way she approaches being a woman, like she's settling despite both Penelope and Alicia being upgrades to who she was, or like she intends to be the alpha in a given situation.  It's tough to use "she" when calling her "Harmon", but she's no longer Alicia and I'm damn sure not going to call her "Penny" or even "Penelope", and while she's gone by "Harmony", she doesn't seem to like it.

It wasn't a big deal, but it was the first really couple-y thing they've done since Harmon arrived, and it sort of broke the ice in terms of them doing more.  Not every night, but a couple times a week. and I can't deny that it's making me a little crazy.  Not afraid of Ray cheating on me or anything like that - I can read him pretty well by now, and there's definitely a sense when they get home that any fun he had was despite being out with Harmon than because of it, and he really seems to enjoy discussing it with me as my husband even if he's seeing his daughter while he does it - but the feeling of being left out of my own life hits pretty hard when they're out.  I kind of wish that I could say that Millie's life fills the void and distracts me, saying something about how much teenagers have to study compared to my day, but I can actually keep up with her classes.

What winds up happening is that I wind up playing video games online with Millie's classmates, and I don't mind that they regularly destroy me and ask why I've sucked so much since school started, but it just feels like such an isolating way to have your social life compared to what I was doing at their age and what Ray and Harmon are doing right at the same time.  Plus, the language!  I know it makes me sound like my grandmother, but I'm having a hard time getting used to tweens swearing at each other or calling girls sluts.  I've sort of grown a bit of a shell where that's concerned as Penny and forgotten a lot of the vile shit that must have gone through my mind as a boy/man, but even though they're addressing me, they're saying it about Millie, and as a mom that really drives me nuts.

But sometimes, afterwards, I think that maybe the ability to forget what something was like is part of what makes it possible to function as humans.  Not just people who have been to the Inn - although the fact that what it's like to be a man has receded quite a bit in my brain can be a blessing - but just generally.  Sure, I was probably a little brat with a foul mouth a Millie's age, and I'd probably react differently as a parent if I could really remember it clearly; my instincts to protect her might make me smother her, rather than letting her figure out where her lines are.

And, sometimes, when Ray and Harmon are out, I start to understand how she could feel so betrayed that she went out to investigate.  What I feel on date night is not quite the way a kid feels at having their parents feel there's something they'd rather do than be with them even for a few hours, but I hate that there's something really important going on without me.

And, at times, I wonder if Millie is really enjoying not having to feel all this.  I read about the girls in New York who are only a few years older than she is, and the fact that they seem to be doing okay makes me really nervous.  She really should have contacted us by now, and I don't know what's scarier - that she's landed someplace where she's in over her head, or that she might be dreading the idea of coming back now that she's been able to skip what must seem like the boring parts of one's life.

-Arthur/Penny/Millie

Marc/Dustin: Danger Zone

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

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

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

Ifena.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh huh?"

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

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

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

"And the other?"

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

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

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

Hopefully I don't end up regretting this.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Fake It Til You Make It

Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I get myself into these situations. Mostly, I figure, it's be being an idiot. And a rather emotionally susceptible one at that, as much as I try to keep people at a remove, for my own safety and theirs.

It's been over a month since "Dakota" and I started working on openly portraying a couple. What some of you readers may glean, but others may not, is that as much as it goes with the territory, it's actually not always easy to play-act like that. In my previous lives, I was somewhat lucky -- As Chantelle, I only had to pretend that Damian and I were not involved, which became easier once I realized I had lost my wife to her new life. As Ryan, I didn't have to pretend anything, and as Ed I only had to pretend to be a crotchety old father figure to Pamela. It's easy to fill a role for somebody who doesn't know you're lying, because you can draw on whatever feelings you really are having. But it's really hard to perform and be a co-conspirator.

The truth about the Inn is that while having your body changed (and changed again and again) can unlock parts of you you may not have known, by and large people can't pretend to be something they're not for very long. The Inn's curse, which insulates us from suspicion, does more to protect our secret than any ability to portray the person we appear to be. All of that is to say John makes for a very weird Gen Z: serious and contemplative and icy, a far cry from what I believe to be the bubbly and available blonde Dakota. In terms of John failing to "pass," witness his conversations with housemates like PJ and Ify about the prospects of Mamdani's campaign for Mayor of New York. ("Sure I'd vote for him, but does he really appeal to that many people? And if he wins, don't you think he'll encounter problems governing if he doesn't at least play ball a little?" Doesn't sound like anything a real 23-year-old would say.)

John and Mary have both noted how stilted it sounds when I call "Dakota" "Babe" or fumble to make tentative physical contact with her. Even though I have known John for a long while at this point, it feels like this person is a stranger to me.

John doesn't seem to have the same issues, I can see it in his big blue eyes and the slight smile he gives me. That's the kind of stuff that sends a really mixed signal because part of me thinks it's authentic, that John really likes me and is using Dakota's body to express that. Getting all this attention is a little bittersweet, especially when Mary happens to be in the room -- John certainly isn't modifying his behavior out of sensitivity to her, he'll behave the same way whether she can see us or not. Mary, for her part, just seems to endure it. 

The strange thing is, away from everyone else, as Marc and John, there actually is a connection. I feel like John has been trying to actively remind me of reasons why our fling became so strong in the first place. We'll go out to run errands and he'll strike up a conversation about serious topics like what it would look like to finally stop hopping from body to body, what I hope for the future, what the difference between performing and real feelings... rational debates that remind me he's a smart, insightful, inquisitive guy.

Things that make me wonder why I'm holding him at arm's length because he's all that in a cute, seemingly available package. The other day we were at the pharmacy and I reached for his hand without thinking, without anyone being around, and he held on and smiled at me before I realized what I had instinctively done. ("We can table that," he snickered when I seemed visible uncomfortable.)

We've bonded. At night in our bedroom, we'll watch old movies like Rocky or Apocalypse Now or the French Connection. He told me he cried afterward remembering how Gene Hackman and his wife died. ("It just hit me in a different way all of a sudden. It just hit me and made me feel.. strange.") Then afterward I'll slip onto my makeshift bed on the floor, and as usual he'll ask me, "Isn't your back getting sore? There's plenty of room..." 

And there are nights I wonder why I just don't give in. The Inn has given so much to others and taken so much from me that I wonder, on balance, how it could be wrong for me to just submit and enjoy this. I have some guilt toward Mary -- as much as she seemingly endorsed this scenario, I'm not sure I can feel like I have clean hands until she knows the truth and every party involved has full knowledge and informed consent. Yet at the same time, I'm not rushing to spill the beans, maybe because I want that barrier there (maybe I think I don't deserve happiness?)

And then there's John himself. Though he denies it, how can I truly believe him when he says he didn't time his return to the Inn to coincide with mine? To make a deliberate effort to cast his wife aside in a way that absolves him and positions him intimately with me? Is that paranoid? John is a savvy individual and must have recognized the Inn's potential from the start. I wonder if he's capable of something like that.

And even if not, doesn't the fact that I have such a suspicious mind mean something? How can I commit to this person if this is what I think of them?

And all the same... if not John, who could I ever find happiness with, in this ever-changing chaotic life?

-Marc

Ande: Movember!

Has any girl turned guy talked about shaving on this blog yet?  I haven't seen any, but then we're really outnumbered by the folks who went the other way, which makes sense.  I mean, it's hard losing a big part of your identity and all, but a lot of day to day stuff gets easier and who wants to complain about the creepy teacher not staring at your boobs, or claim that morning wood is more annoying than periods?  There's some hidden things that aren't great in terms of expectations and I still worry about losing my temper and losing control, but I know Andie got the more difficult situation. 

And shaving your face is pretty easy.  I haven't gone more than a day or two without doing it since becoming Andrew and by now it's just part of my morning routine.  At first, it was really important - neither of us wanted to be the guy who grows a full beard in high school, it was an unwanted reminder of my new masculinity every time I looked in the mirror, and it's just itchy and annoying when you miss a day.  Some guys get really into it, heating up foam and using a straight razor, but when I was a girl, I just took a bath rather than a shower and used a pink disposable every few weeks, since it's not like I was wearing miniskirts to school or on the swim team.  As a guy, I've basically been doing the same, just keeping a razor in the shower and doing it by feel while the steam and hot water has my pores or follicles or whatever open.  Don't even need shaving cream. 

There's some downsides to this, of course.  I'm basically doing it blind and shaving the sideburns off entirely rather than have them wind up uneven, and that wasn't really a big deal at first, and even desirable - I was still thinking of myself as a girl and didn't want 'em - but now I'm starting to look a little more baby-faced than I really want to, and it kind of feels like the sort of thing a grown man should be able to do. 

So, when a couple guys in one of my study groups came in looking a bit scruffy and mentioned that they were growing their beards out for "Movember", I figured what the hell?  If I don't like it, I can shave it off, and it's dumb to not see what I look like now that I've more or less accepted that this is who I'm going to be .

Right now, I look like a caterpillar is clinging to the very bottom of my upper lip for dear life. 

It's apparently hilarious. 

Don't take my word for it; Hildy apparently didn't even see it the first time she leaned in for a kiss and came away saying yuck, although she then said it was promising for just a few days' growth, with only a little detectable insincerity.  Griff was walking by and asked what was so funny and said he would try that.  He woke up the next morning with more than I'd managed in three days.

And I just got off a Zoom call with Andie, who saw what was on my face and then immediately started laughing, putting her head down on her desk to smother it, holding up a finger after a minute to say she needed another few seconds when I asked if she was done, and then letting out one last snicker when she sat up straight again. 

"Sorry, man, I just feel like I dodged a bullet, you know?"

"Har har.  But did you?  Do you think I might suck at growing hair because of some Inn thing, like it didn't make me male enough?"

She snorted.  "If it worked that way, I wouldn't get the cramps I do."

I allowed that, and talked with her a bit more.  She insisted on taking screenshots to show Mom & Dad, and that reaction will probably be interesting.

-Ande

Arthur/Penny/Millie: Halloween Project

Between tennis, and school, and editing a manuscript, and trying to find out where my daughter had vanished to, I hadn't even thought about Halloween, at least, not until I was hanging out with a couple of Millie's friends after school and one of them looked at me nervously and asked if it would be weird if we did KPop Demon Hunters as a group costume.

Which I should have seen coming; much as a tween like Millie isn't going to get that excited about a cartoon, or at least isn't going to show it, a thing everyone was watching that was all about Korean girls was a big deal, especially since, between Ray and myself, we kind of get frustrated in terms of finding stuff a Korean-American girl her age would like that doesn't position girls like her as a sidekick.  Her tastes don't really match up with ours, and both Ray and I will look at a lot of the Korean import stuff on Netflix and think it's too violent.  It's kind of a reminder that, while I may be closing in on 20 years as a woman, I did it without ever having been a girl, and a lot of this is new to me.

Also?  It's kind of cool that her friends asked if this would be weird, given that Millie's the only ethnically Korean or Asian one among them.  I'm not sure that 13-year-old Arthur would have really given a lot of thought to appropriating something like that.  Blackface probably would have been right out, but a cool costume?  Maybe not.

We could have gotten pre-made costumes easily - I think half the girls in Millie's class are dressing as KPop Demon Hunters this year - but I made the suggestion that it would be more fun to make our own.  I've kind of gotten used to doing this; as Penny, I'm about six feet tall, which means I'm kind of limited in terms of options when I just go shopping for regular clothes, but for Halloween, anything short and sexy is going to show off my entire ass, which was kind of fun as a younger woman but kind of inappropriate when chaperoning a party for kids or answering the door for trick-or-treaters.  So I've gotten pretty good at making my own costumes, although I'm not any kind of expert cosplayer who goes to comic book conventions to show them off (and I've attended conventions to promote my book, so I know of what I speak).  There's a whole blog post about guys who become women and have to learn how to alter clothing or otherwise sew and then feeling strange because it's one of those gendered activities that might be a blind spot for a lot of women, too.

The point is, though I have made an effort to train myself to be good at it and find it a lot of fun, I vastly overestimated how much a couple of twelve-year-old girls would maintain interest in this and wound up doing most of it myself.  Which was fine; it gives me something to do after school and Millie's friends think I am/she is cool for doing all this, so I'm doing what I can to maintain her friendships while not actually hanging out with a bunch of kids.  Millie's friends are, by and large, pretty cool kids, but it gets very weird when they start talking about boys in their/our class.  I'll come home and think, do all of these costumes need to include crop-tops?  Am I worried about this as a mom because it'll be chilly in the evenings all week or because I know boys are going to be looking at our waists?

I did a pretty darn good job, though - I think we definitely will look better than the folks who went to Spirit Halloween, and kind of wonder what Millie will think when/if she sees the photos Ray took last night to post on social media.  That was maybe the most surreal thing, striking superhero poses with the girls and finding myself giggling along with them.  It's not entirely a tween thing - adults who get dressed up for Halloween do the same thing - but I was definitely vibing with them in that moment in a way I'm kind of wary of most of the time, knowing how the Inn can mess with your head.

The most annoying thing: Harmon being a jerk about me borrowing some of my own boots for the costume, or when I ordered a couple things online.  She acts like she's teasing me, but even where Halloween costumes are concerned, I think it's really important to not rule play mother and daughter in the apartment unless there are guests. 

Anyway, I hope Millie sees the pictures her father is posting and likes them, and maybe even wants to try the costume on once we're back to normal 

- Arthur/Penny/Millie

Tom/Kiara: Down but not out

So here I am.

20 weeks -- five months in this unlikely role. Teenager. Daughter. Mother.

There are times, God help me, that I seem to forget I was ever Tom Nishimura -- was ever myself. Not to be too dramatic. It's actually easier in some ways to look at it that way. I have a lot in front of me. A daughter. A family. School. None of it is supposed to be mine, but that's what I'm dealing with. I don't work in "supposed to," I have an objective reality. Today I am Kiara. I might not always be, and maybe if the tides somehow completely turn I might even be Tom again, but... well.

I don't even think of myself as a woman. Or a man for that matter. Sure, when I pull my clothes off at night there's a woman's anatomy, but what I am is just a big, sleep-deprived, milk-producing mess, one with long hair (but not as long as it used to be thanks to a very helpful hairdresser I befriended) and who sits to pee. Gender, I'm learning, is even more of an illusion than I thought -- even with my body this way, I don't feel too much like a girl and I don't seem to get many of the "looks" some women get just for existing, maybe because of my constantly disheveled state. ("Sex" is a little more tangible, as I learn every month when the cramps come in.)

Still, I'm nothing like the Tom I used to be. I even considered excluding his name from this post's title, but... that would be giving in to something I'm not ready to face yet.

Sorry, for someone whose job is communicating clearly, I must not be making a lot of sense. Chalk that up to said lack of sleep. At the very least, the chaos of these opening paragraphs -- the first thing I've written in months -- helps express my frantic state of mind. I'm Kiara. I'm Tom. I'm a kid. I'm an adult. I'm a man. I'm a mommy.

Summer in North Carolina was... hot, sticky, long, and irritable. I integrated, as best I could, with Kiara's family. One thing that can't be denied is that they know how to take care of kids. They know that when a 17-year-old gives birth, the response is to both step up and help, and also always make sure she knows she screwed up. It's a rite of passage that I gather Kiara's mom faced, and her mom too. On that note, there is always someone to take care of the baby, to feed her strained squash, change her and keep her occupied, so that I can focus on living my life -- whatever kind of life I'm supposed to have. Of course, I'm still pumping, and breastfeeding directly when I can. Which sucks because in the last few months the girl has started getting teeth.

Sometimes I look at her, and I think about where we were when we started this -- how small she was, how new it  all was to me... and I melt. I have to admit it. I didn't want to be a parent, certainly not a mom, and yet I look at the little peanut and I think, holy crap, we've already been through so much together. It humbles me, and it also fills me with rage at the notion that Kiara may have willingly and knowingly walked away from this (we don't know for sure yet, so let's give her the benefit of the doubt.) 

Shit, I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking about it. That's the Kiara in me.

That's the real curse. Not losing my junk, or my professional standing or the years of personal living. That could all be returned. But being linked with this baby, feeling like she's my responsibility and I'm all she's got (which is not true and yet feels suspiciously true) and that I would be doing a bad thing by leaving her... that's the curse. That's the thing that's got me damned.

As far as daily-life goes, I'm navigating that daily tango of support and judgment. I try not to take it personally -- I can't be held accountable for decisions that Kiara made before I became her, but I'm the one that has to live with them. Ultimately I decided not to enroll at her high school. That would have been too weird. Kiara herself may have felt some attachment to friends and teachers and the fact that she was only one year away from graduation, but Tom-as-Kiara prefers a different approach. Instead I signed up for Adult Learning to pursue a GED. With the pace of classes, it's something that would take more than a year -- which means that if I get away from this life by next summer I won't have graduated for her. It's a better environment than a normal high school because everyone else here has some similar thing about them to brand them as an outcast: a criminal record, a history of addiction, a brain injury, kids of their own. I've made really good friends with the Indian woman named Sunita who is new to the country and reasonably smart but needs something to show for it.

I'm not ready to give up on Tom's life. I still have his goals in front of me: publish my expose, learn the truth about the original Kiara, do something that feels like putting this situation right. They just feel a lot further away than they once did, with a lot of other obstacles in between. Sometimes it's hard to determine what's really important -- the big things I can't affect, or the little ones that I'll get in trouble for ignoring.

Like homework. You've still got to do algebra when you have a kid at 17.

Hope to speak to you again soon.

-T/K

Ande: First Anniversary

So here's a kind of funny thing:  Andie and I both had our first-anniversary dates about a week ago, and it's kind of funny how sometimes we're in sync like that, even though we're in different parts of the country.  I mean, we should be - we're twins and we've exchanged lives! - but things don't quite wind up lining up quite so often as we'd like.  

She and her boyfriend did fly out this summer, though, to see the fireworks on the Fourth and get a chance to hang out with me and Hildy.  The spare room they used has since been filled with Griff's girlfriend - they really like having their own space - and I like Chipper.  I don't think I would have dated him myself, though Andie does think about what might have been when hanging around Hildy, but he seems like a pretty good guy who likes Andie a lot.  I'm also glad to see that long Covid isn't completely kicking her ass these days, though she shows symptoms often enough that we didn't bring up the idea of switching back.

Strangely enough, I may have felt more pangs for my old life during the anniversary date.  Hildy and I don't dress up much when we go out, to the extent that she was making jokes about how completely buried her one pair of heels were in her closet, but she clearly spent a lot more time than usual, curling her hair, doing her makeup, waxing her legs, all that.  On the one hand, it kind of sounds like a real pain in the neck these days, but in the other, my heart kind of jumped into my throat when I met her at her place.  Sure, I was wearing a coat and tie,  but it wasn't the same effect. 

The date itself was fun - we had a nice meal at Legal and then went to a show at the A.R.T., then got snacks at Insomnia Cookies because we didn't really want to mar the night by not being able to talk or way into a bar.  We spent the night at her place (we didn't want to get the stink-eye from the new roommate either).

Andie texted me a selfie overnight, saying she knew it was weird for me but if she was wearing garters and stockings and had a big old slit practically all the way to her butt, plus a push-up bra, she was showing off.  I laughed, saying she looked good and I don't know if I would have had the patience, and she said, yeah, probably not, but sometimes we both overcompensate.  I asked how I overdo it, and she said she couldn't help but laugh at how short my hair was in July  especially since I had to wear a baseball cap in order to avoid sunburning my scalp. 

She's got a point, I guess. 

Anyway, it's kind of worth noting that I've been doing my thing as a guy long enough to have an anniversary that's more about being happy about something in this life rather than thinking that i can't believe I've been a guy long enough to have dated a girl for a year. 

-Ande

Rusty/Monica: Does this count as a long-term plan?

I've enrolled in a new class.  Not a language one - I'm kind of getting nowhere with Korean and while I'm going to keep plugging away at that, I'm guessing it probably wouldn't be a great idea to try to learn something else on top of it - but studying for a real estate license.  Basically, I really enjoyed working in sales with Dragon Energy, in part because it got me out and about in the city, as opposed to sitting at a desk and making phone calls all day. 

The class is on the same building as the language school - I'm not sure how many times I started at the sign over the past few months without thinking that it might be fir me - so it's really convenient.  On Fridays, I finish work at about six, run out to grab a slice, and then head back in.  Even if you're calling me 23 rather than 16, I'm still the youngest person in class by a lot.  About half the class is recently-divorced women from Long Island, one of whom did not take me saying that it was either this or medicine well at all, because I guess her ex is a doctor who cheated on her with a pharma girl.

It's kind of nice to have something to do on Friday nights when Katey and Dad are out with their boyfriends.  I'm starting to think that I'm the "A" part of LBGTQIA+, and that the original Monica was too.  A few of her college and high school boyfriend have messaged me about getting lunch or a drink while they were in the City for a meeting or convention or something, and they all seem to like Monica and wish it had worked out, but they just weren't a physical match or something.  A couple apologized for being impatient because she wanted to take it slow, or getting the wrong idea because she liked running around campus in skimpy workout clothes.

I haven't really talked about this with Dad and Katey, specifically, because I'm not totally sure.  Like, I'll be runningin the park and someone will make me turn my head, but it doesn't feel like desire so much as appreciation, I don't think.  Dad's not sure i can tell the difference, and maybe she's right, but it just doesn't ever feel important. 

And it's important to them!  Things are going surprisingly well with Dad and June/Jonah. Dad still really doesn't like getting dressed up or made up, and she's always really embarrassed when she doesn't get home until the next morning, like she wouldn't enjoy being with someone who was a woman for decades and really knows what's going on inside her. 

And I want Dad to have fun and be happy, but it's kind of making me feel like a fifth wheel.  J/J joined the trivia team yesterday, and Katey is always flirting with Omar during trivia,  so i feel a bit left out.l, kind of wondering if the original Monica would let folks at her up because it made hanging out with her friends easier. 

Anyway, it's nice to have something to do on Friday night, and I really do think being a realtor could be a really fun job! 

- Rusty/Monica

Toby: Dunia & Papi

(Wrote this October 1st, forgot to hit send!)

Doing this again to try and forget that I'm in a flight attendant's uniform and will soon be flying to Washington, doing a job i haven't trained for at all. 

The strange thing is, that feels like the first thing that had me really nervous since arriving in Miami.  It seems crazy to say that, because nobody else seems to really click into new lives quite so fast, but as soon as Lambert dropped me off in front of this pastel-colored building, her father ran out and squished me to his chest.  "Where were you?  Everyone has been so worried!"

"We, uh, got lost in the woods.  Ms. Polawski... Alicia... had this 'glamping' idea, and while she backed a ton of extra food, she apparently forgot a compass, and after these other guys found us...  Well, it was just so embarrassing..."  I felt embarrassed saying this, but I guess that made it sound believable, because he just kissed the top of my head, said I didn't ever need to ashamed to tell him anything, and then picked up my luggage, apparently not noticing that there were two suitcases instead of one.

I'd seen pictures and video of Enrico Cortes on Dunia's phone, but somehow hadn't expected a few things.  You can always smell the garage on him, for instance, even underneath the Old Spice (also: Dunia has an unnervingly good sense of smell), and even when he's so happy to see you that you think he'd overdo a hug, you can sort of feel that he knows when to stop.  He's also strangely tidy - his mustache is perfectly trimmed and every room in this little house is so well-organized that I haven't had to arouse suspicion by asking where anything is in the past week, or at least every room except for Dunia's bedroom.

It wasn't quite dark yet but I was tired, and fell asleep practically as soon as I sat on the bed.  When I woke up the next morning I saw my shoes were neatly placed at the foot of the bed and I'd been covered with a light blanket, which was kind of creepy, but maybe that's just what fathers do when they see their daughters sprawled out with the door open?  I was kind of fuzzy - this was, like, my third day as Dunia and I was kind of jolted awake by her face in the mirror, but let my nose lead me downstairs to where he was scrambling some eggs, and perked up on seeing me.  "Hey, you're up early!  Although I guess you went to bed pretty early for you, so it balances out.  Join your old man for breakfast?"

"Uh... okay."  I sat down and he handed me a plate.  I was a little nervous at first - there were bits of peppers in the eggs, but it wasn't bad at all.  The orange juice was fresh-squeezed, too, and for as silly as I feel silly getting all wide-eyed at my first sip because it's nothing compared to what else is new, it really was different. 

Her dad noticed and chuckled.  "They don't have the fresh aid up in Maine, huh?"  I imagine it's like North Dakota, where they have it in the fancy places folks like Lambert so at but which is out of my range, but obviously didn't say anything  "Well, I'm off to the shop.  Anything you need me to bring home?  I got those bath oils you wanted while you were away, and I imagine you're looking forward to that after your adventure!"

Taken aback, I lifted an arm and smelled my armpit.  I've smelled worse, but I imagine a girl who asks her dad to pick up bath pills doesn't often go 48 hours without showering, especially in this humidity.  I let him awkwardly hug me goodbye, and then made my way to the bathroom 

There was a whole line of products against one wall, and I sarcastically took a picture and texted it to Dunia:  "What an i supposed to do with all this?"

It was only a minute or so before she texted back: "Hahahhaha, that must seem like a lot

"Why don't you just get in and soak and I'll write something up?"

I was kind of surprised by the quick response. "Isn't it like 5an there?"

"4! No daylight savings time

"Guess I'm an early riser now and still sort of on eastern time"

I turned on the faucet and put a door under the tap until it seemed okay.  "That sucks"

"Could be worse, I guess.  I'm kind of hot for an odd man"  She sent a selfie of a silver-haired man in a wide-beater.  She did look like she was in pretty decent shape.  "Now you"

I tried to be cute, throwing up a v-sign and posing with my mouth open so I didn't look annoyed to be her.  There was a brief pause, and she texted back not to make hand signs unless I really meant it.

Then:  "Hey don't be shy about washing my v, ok?  I know it's weird - BELIEVE ME - but I want EVERYTHING in good shape next year"

"Um, k"

She didn't respond door a minute or two, so I took a deep breath, stripped, and lowered myself into the bath.  I winced a bit when the warm water touched my new private parts, but once I was in, it wasn't a big deal.  I mean, it was weird, but it wasn't arousing or anything.

I exhaled and looked down.  Dark-ish skin, perky breasts, tight waist, landing strip, butt flaring out, pretty nice legs.  Little landing strip above a slit, yes, but it kind of hit me that this at least looked tidy, compared to what Dunia must be seeing from the same angle.

I just sat there for a bit.  The warm water felt good, the house was quiet except for some birds outside.  It was kind of peaceful.  I closed my eyes and let my head sink below the water, feeling my hair float on the surface, then popped back up.  That felt like enough doing nothing, so I picked up a lavender-scented beauty bar and started rubbing it on my body.  My skin was soft, and kind of sensitive, but it wasn't ...  Like, you spend a lot of time as a guy thinking about how everything about girls is sexy, but it's actually just skin muscle and fat the way my own body is.  Even when washing my chest, it was like, there's weight and mass there, but touching it doesn't make me go nuts or anything.

Anyway, I got washed up and smelling nice, and once I'd tried off I walked back to her room to get dressed.  Just a simple t-shirt and shorts - it was in the 80s - and spent a little time zooming with Dunia afterward, as she went through all the stuff in the bathroom and said what it was for.

We zoomed a lot over the past week, and I get the impression that's not normal - like, a lot of folks just get thrown into a new life without a lot of help, but I kind of get the impression that Dunia is kind of bored between trips and is in kind of a similar situation to me - she's getting instruction on driving an 18-wheeler and kind of worried about it, so when she has a chance, she's helping me with makeup and going through her Instagram feed to fill me in on everyone.  I complained about her wardrobe a bit but she said I'd like having this butt when her girlfriends get me out dancing and the halters make it look like we've got enough up top to balance them.

And her dad...  Her dad is kind of great!  He's fretting a lot because of the whole going missing thing, but seems really proud of her, and even when he comes home from a long day at the garage smelling like grease, he likes to cook Dunia's favorite foods and ask how my day was, and when I say I've spent the whole day studying, points out that I should have some fun, too.

I've only seen Lambert a couple of times over the past week - I gather that Alicia is the new roommate in an apartment with a few other flight attendants, having just relocated to Miami from New York, and apparently the previous Alicia didn't make a very good impression.  I don't think he's ever had a roommate before.

Anyway, I'm leaving out a lot, I know, and getting into too much in other spots, but I'm about to start my first shift and I'm nervous.  Wish me luck!

-Toby/Dunia

Marc/Dustin: Peace in our time

As you might expect in a house with so many people, not the least of which are three Inn-transformees, there are some pretty complicated interpersonal dynamics at play, and simply navigating them can be exhausting.

Our initial instinct was to stay off the radar while carving out a dynamic that worked for us. John and Mary were bunked downstairs in Cassie's basement bedroom while I was on the top floor in a room of my own.

Unfortunately, questions were being asked about why Dakota was suddenly so distant from Dustin. Personally, I was keeping John at arm's length, giving him space to work out his issues with his wife. I sat next to him at the table for meals, being that he remained my closest ally in the house and someone I have a shared past with (read: scandalous secret.) I figured this would fall under the domain of "nobody's business but ours." So we don't go shopping together? So we don't kiss in public? Who's to say what's right?

Unfortunately, when you're 22 and in a full house, everything is everybody's business. People wanted to know whether we had broken up.

And there was a reason why we couldn't just do the easy thing and say "yes."

Dustin is not very popular here.

Only having been here for a few months, I obviously don't have much first-hand understanding, but I gleaned it almost from the moment I walked in as the girls would mostly give me the cold shoulder when I tried to be cordial and sociable. I chalked that up to "Oh, he's Dakota's boyfriend and they don't want to cross a certain line of appropriateness with him" but the pointedness became undeniable. At some point, the girls of the house -- and PJ -- had enough of this guy. There are guys here too, but mostly as boyfriends, add-ons and transients. It's all the women's names (and PJ's) on the lease. The guys don't really have a say as to who lives here, and Dustin is here on a boyfriend visa. If he and Dakota aren't a couple, there's really no reason for him to be in this house.

Perhaps your next question is -- why do I have to live in the house at all? Wouldn't it be easier if I just excuse myself, let John and Mary live their lives, and find something else to do with myself until it's time to go back to the Inn?

I couldn't agree more, but unfortunately, our lives are slightly more entangled than all that. You see, for the last several months, I've been paying both Cassie's and Dakota's share of the rent out of my own pocket, out of my "war chest." Mary is trying to become more financially independent, working at a restaurant, but is pretty underpaid. I'm not asking her to repay everything she owes me, but she's having a hard enough time getting on her own two feet. John gave it a try too, but wasn't cut out for the service industry. He just gives off this vibe of being "above it" that employers don't seem to like. He worked two shifts with Cassie and washed out, and hasn't been able to get anything else since.

"Sexist," he grumbled, "If I had the same attitude as a man, they'd say I was independent, but because I'm a woman, I'm a bitch."

"Welcome," Mary teased.

Until we can get that straightened out, it doesn't make sense for me to live elsewhere. But what it all amounts to is a few weeks ago, Mary and John sat me down in my (and Dakota's) room, and told me that I was going to have to start getting more lovey-dovey with my "girlfriend."

"We need them to see that you two still care about each other," Mary said, "Holding hands, joking around... touching, laughing... kissing, occasionally," she added, with a bit of queasiness in her voice.

I looked at John, who feigned discomfort, probably for Mary's benefit.

"You can't just force that sort of thing," I protested. "We're... practically strangers..." I stammered over the lie that I had never met John before the Inn.

"That's what we're counting on," Mary said. "You know John's himself inside, but... you never met him. You only know him as Dakota. So why not..." she sighed, "Why not try to forget that isn't all she is?"

My eyes shifted between the two of them. I wasn't entirely sure what they were saying.

"Mary, no matter who this looks like, that's still your husband," I insisted.

"It's more complicated than that, Dustin," Mary said, using my false name, maybe to distance herself from the reality. "We have been at it over and over and over again, and we... we aren't getting anywhere. And we can't keep fighting over how to approach this situation."

I was aware that, behind closed doors, John and Mary were having an understandable difficulty coming to terms with the dynamic. I don't think it was quite the sexy fantasy John was hoping for. And I know it's created some friction. I also know that PJ, who shares a wall with Cassie, has had a lot to say about them disrupting their sleep with their constant muffled bickering.

"I want John to be happy," Mary said, holding her husband's little hand.

"And I want Mary to be happy," John replied in a low murmur, "And she's never going to be happy with me like this."

"So, you're what... giving up?" I balked. I had been through this myself, so I slightly took exception.

"We're hoping we can find our way back to each other," John noted -- a statement that rang falsely to me, the person he once cheated on his wife with. "In another time, when this is all over and we're ourselves... or different people."

"John and Mary love each other," Mary said, resignedly, "But Cassie and Dakota are just friends. Does that make sense?" Having had my mind and body warped multiple times by now, it did, but that didn't mean I didn't sense something else afoot here.

"It's for the best," John shrugged. I glared at him and thought I'm sure it is.

"I'll leave you two to sort some things out," Mary said, wiping her tears away and standing to leave.

Once she was gone, there was a pregnant pause in the air, until I finally asked, "What the fuck, John?"

"It's exactly what we said," he shrugged his little shoulders and flicked a lock of hair away from his face. "We're not meant for each other anymore... right now... what have you."

"You wanted this," I said, accusatorily.

"I wanted resolution," he reasoned, "I wanted a status quo we could all live with. And I didn't want to hurt Mary."

"Well, congrats, she's hurt," I groaned.

"But I didn't hurt her," John noted. "The situation did."

"The situation you organized," I noted.

"Excuse me!" he scoffed, "I didn't sign up to become Dakota and Cassie! I could have easily been anybody walking out of that Inn and the odds were good that she and I would have been people who were meant to be together."

"And the odds were good that you wouldn't," I said, seeing through his convenient plausible deniability. "Either way it's a win, right? A little bit of short-term pain, a few late nights crying into each other's arms, oh, I can't do this, I'm not myself... we're not us anymore... and you get to walk away. I've heard it before."

"And so what?" he put his hands on his hips indignantly, "Is that not legitimate? Do my feelings not matter? Don't you think if I could be sexually attracted to Mary, to Cassie, I would be? She's gorgeous. That's part of a relationship, as far as I'm concerned, and without it, she and I are exactly what these two girls are -- friends. That isn't nothing. It hurts, but it isn't nothing."

"You seem very hurt," I said sarcastically.

"Don't minimize me here," John huffed, "I want what everyone wants, to be happy. To feel love and excitement and cared-for. She's not a saint either! You don't know her, you weren't married to her!"

"Don't make this about her," I said. "You could have divorced her like a normal fucking person," I hissed, trying to keep my voice down in case anyone outside could hear me.

"And if I didn't know about the fucking Inn, I might just have," he said. "Maybe last year, Ryan should have told me to divorce my wife instead of Shanghai-ing me to Maine."

I sunk down. I certainly didn't come into this with clean hands. I made one grave error in judgment and I've paid for it ever since. But I know that at the time John would rather have killed himself than go through a divorce. And most likely, done neither.

Did that make what I did right? And if not, was I responsible for any and all decisions John made since?

John sat next to me on the bed, our thighs touching. I shifted but he still closed the gap.

"Let's focus on us for a second," he said, now fawning, seemingly remorseful that he had taken that last shot. He reached for my hand and I let him take it.

"There isn't an us, not inside this room," I insisted. "I can try to put on an act, and you can vouch for me, but it won't be real, John. I hope you know that. I'm going to sleep on the floor -- one of the advantages of a 22-year-old back."

"Okay," John said, coldly, "But the second I don't need your money, what then? You're out on your ass."

"Believe me, I'll live," I said.

"I'm not your enemy, Marc," he said, activating Dakota's big doelike eyes, "We've had fun together. We understand each other. And with you as Dustin and me as Dakota, we... we're kind of all we've got. I know you're lonely. You're not going to start a relationship with anybody else, because that would upend the real Dustin's life. But that logic won't stop you from finding the next Christine. Why not make the best of the situation? I'm willing if you are."

I looked at him, he fixed me with that glassy, pleading stare. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

His lips curled up in an inviting smile that, in other situations, I might have found very cute. "Tell me you're not a little curious."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Like I said, I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Suit yourself," he sighed.

"If... if... there's to be anything here between us, it will have to develop over time," I said. "Dakota and Dustin may be in love, but John and Marc are just two people trying to navigate an extremely messed-up situation."

He nodded slowly in agreement. "Fair terms, I think."

And that was that. The time since has proceeded exactly as we laid it out. In front of everyone else we're fun, flirty and physical -- I set the limit at three kisses on the lips per day for the benefit of others, and not around Mary if it can be helped. I've also spent a lot of time talking to her, but that's a subject for another post. 

As to what's really going on between John and I, I don't know. I'm just taking it day by day. For now,  we have some semblance of peace... but I do wonder, at what cost?

-Marc/Dustin