Marc/Ryan: Parting Ways

I won't keep you in suspense. Yes, John and I are both "back where we belong," as it were. As Dave indicates in his post, it happened the night after I last posted. I awoke feeling lighter and less achey than I had since last fall.

Once we got through the astonishment that our crazy plan worked and I did not end up in John's body and vice versa, or some more chaotic third option, he and I took a moment to breathe. 

Early in the morning, I could hear some frantic chatter in the halls. Someone knocked on our door, I answered and saw a panicked-looking woman. After dressing in the clothes my past-self had left back in September, I agreed to address the group, explaining what I could about the Inn's curse and the added wrinkle that all of these people's "lives" had been on hold since September. Six of the people who had come were on a bachelorette getaway, and then there was a trio of other returners who also succeeded in reclaiming their bodies (or at the very least, seemed okay with the results.) Tallying things up, I realized that not a single person from this group went from male to female, which I think is an interesting stat. 

I handed out some contact information where -- assuming I have access to technology -- I can be reached in any identity, as well as highlighted this blog as a resource. I made sure to indicate that this was not forever, and while returning to your original life took some effort, it was very doable and seems to happen often enough.

John said little, but after we retired to our rooms, he expressed admiration for my poise. I reminded him I've done my fair share of public speaking.

A moment later, another forceful knock on the door. It was the bride-to-be, who was obviously taking things very harshly. She had become a very fetching woman. Her maid of honor was in tow to try to console her. She had become the woman's husband, a burly, bearded fellow who looks like he either works construction or tends bar at a hipster joint, and I was jolted by how quickly my Ryan-ness had asserted itself when I found myself admiring "his" looks more than the bride/wife. Over time, we were able to talk the bride down, but I tried to let her have space to feel her feelings. John, for the most part, sat in the corner scrolling through his phone, seemingly taking stock of what he was going back to (occasionally murmuring a displeased "oh, dear.")

After the initial chaos died down, the Bachelorette girls circled up together, and the family of three sorted their business out, and I felt ready to leave. John and I shared a ride down to New York. He was a little guarded -- when I asked him how he felt about going back to Mary, he only said "we'll see what we see," with a noncommittal shrug. He asked me why I didn't go back to being myself, and I sort of told him there was baggage there I simply didn't feel like I could face, which only partly concerns my ex-wife.

"Okay, before we go, I've got to know... what did you really look like?"

I showed him a picture of my old self, and he gave a very neutral nod, which to be fair is all my original life merits. Then I showed him a picture of Chantelle.

"She's quite pretty. I'll bet you had a good time once you got used to it."

I smiled self-effacingly. "I have some good memories and some bad memories. Less about the body, more about the life. As a man, you think, I could never enjoy being a woman, but... well, you'd be surprised. Surprised the most by how little it matters compared to other things."

John nodded, as though this provoked some thought in him -- and why wouldn't it? I sometimes forget, I have experienced something very strange and interesting.

"It's very surreal to me to know that I never really met Ryan," he said as we neared the city. "To know that the face you're wearing right now is someone else's. I have a lot of feelings about that and it's going to take a long time to resolve them." He had this strange smirk, a glint in his eye that I kind of liked -- because it seemed to indicate that, no matter how unethical and wrong my choice to bring him to the Inn was, it seems to have sparked something in him that he needed.

Or maybe I'm just projecting.

We parted ways with a friendly, chaste hug. I felt this weird compulsion to say "Don't be a stranger," which made us both laugh because it's probably best if we become strangers from here on out.

After that, I landed at Ryan's friend's apartment -- I had made arrangements for his return from "Florida" after letting his lease lapse during my absence (all his stuff is in storage, something I accomplished as sort of a weekend project when I was Ed... which was way more grueling than I thought it would be, but worthwhile) and took a shower.

Two months until I return and find out what the next next part of my life looks like.

-Marc/Currently Ryan

Aidan/Emilia: Under Our Noses All Along

I had just gotten behind the bar for happy hour last night when someone vaguely familiar came in, sat down at the bar in front of me, and nervously ordered a beer.  She took a couple of quick sips, looked up at the TVs without actually watching any of them, then drained the glass, banging it down on the coaster. 

Odd, I thought.  "You want another?"

She shrugged.  "If I have to in order to sit here."  I said it wasn't that busy yet, and she nodded silently a couple times before chocking her head.  "Do you recognize me?"

I looked at her for a couple seconds.  Not a regular, more a downtown type, thirty-ish, wearing a jacket that matched her skirt and camisole, nude stockings, and knee-high boots with two-inch heels, the sort of outfit that Kutter tended to favor these days, and that's what did it.  "You work with Katey; I saw you at trivia a couple weeks ago."

She named and and reached out her hand.  "Yes!  I'm Annette Grayson, and I need to talk about your son!"

My brain froze as I shook her hand.  "Nice to meet you, but, uh..."

"Katey's your son Kutter, right, and you're Aidan?  I don't have the wrong Emilia, do I?"

"No, that's me, but how?"

She grinned nervously.  "I stayed at the Inn about ten years ago, just before starting college.  Spent a few years as a couple different guys until I get back to my real life, putting it on the blog, though I basically stopped once my life got normal and I figured this maybe shouldn't be the first thing someone sees when they Google me.  Then my friend Jordan forwards me one of your posts talking about Katey's boss Ms. Grayson like 'this you?' and I'm like holy shit, we've had a teenager running our office for the past seven months!"

I give a pinched grin.  "Well, you could have had me."

She shall as she shrugged.  "I mean, her social media skills were a lot better!"  She paused for a second.  "Is it weird that I'm calling her 'she' and 'Katey'?  I mean, I try to respect everyone's identity--"

"They'll be shes for the next few weeks."

"Right.  Anyways, it just made me more impressed with her, and as you know, we all love her, and, well, the boss wants to promote her to social media manager for us and two other imprints."

That stopped me kind of flat.  "Oh. Wow."

"I know, right?  And I can't think of any reason he'd believe for why he shouldn't!  Katey has been fantastic and deserves this, but the next Katey could be a cranky septugenarian who just gave up her landline a year ago.  I don't know how much you know about the publishing business, but that could be a huge hit to us."

"So, what are you saying, that you want Kutter to stay?"

"No, of course not!  If anything, you should probably convince her to give two weeks' notice before she's offered the job. I mean, I'm her boss, but I'm terrible at that part of the job - the last time I suggested that someone might want to investigate an alternate career track given how volatile publishing is, we nearly wound up in arbitration - and, I don't know, maybe as her dad you've got some easy of putting it that makes her feel more mature..."  She groaned and looked at the ceiling for a moment.  "I sound ridiculous."

I shrugged.  "It's hard not to sound ridiculous when talking about that place."  She was looking at her glass, so I asked if she wanted another beer or something stronger. 

"Oh, this calls for whiskey." I obliged, and she downed it and twisted her face.  "I shouldn't be dumping this on you, this is part of my job, not yours, but you know what the fucked up thing is?  I would totally keep Katey on, even knowing what I know.  How irresponsible is that?"

I didn't have an answer, and enough other people were coming in that i couldn't stick by her part of the bar and talk to her.  A couple drinks later, she left, putting a fifty-dollar tip under her coaster. 

I've got no idea how to talk to Kutter about this.  It feels like it should be straightforward, but who knows how she's going to take it? 

-Aidan/Emilia

Dave: Back to normal

It happened on Wednesday night. I slept through the whole thing, and I think Shane did as well, but when we woke up, we were ourselves again. The first thing I did was put my hands in my pants, to welcome an old friend. Shane was in his bed, and I could see him running his hands over his flat chest. We danced around, high fived, and cheered, which was in contrast to the yells of shock and despair that we heard coming from other rooms.

The first thing I did was pee, and to be able to put that seat up and stand again almost made me cry. We gathered our belongings and wrote our letters, just in case something went wrong and Chris and Sylvia didn't make it back. As soon as we were done, we left the inn. There were still a few days left on our reservation, but we really wanted to just get out of there. I don't know if there is any chance we would be transformed again, but we weren't taking any risks. When we got to the airport, we managed to book a last minute flight back to Indy, paying far too much. I don't think either of us cared, though.

Now we're back at home, going back to our lives, and I'm very motivated to try to make things better. I realise now that I'd been existing more than living in my original life, and I really need to repair some relationships to make things better. I'll take a few days first to just take stock, and then reopen my business and get back to work on Monday.

Maybe I'll give you guys an update to let you know how things worked out in a few months, but I don't know if there'll be much to report, so this could be the last post from me.

It's certainly been an experience I won't forget...

Marc/Ed: The Cost of Goodbye

God bless the independent spirit of Maine, where even someone as hard-edged as Pam will think "Sure, take Cayden on an open-ended fishing trip in the middle of May -- he'll learn more with you than he would at school." The teachers sent along some homework, which John has dutifully been working his way through. He wants to be kept busy but is not particularly interested in treating this as a "vacation" -- we've hardly left the Inn, although I've been out for supplies, feeling weird about leaving an 11-year-old boy in a room by himself even for an hour. I saw Dave, briefly -- he and Shane were here the last time I was, but at the time I was pretty focused on what was going on in my room and was a little uncomfortable making contact with other guests. 

I was insistent that Cayden and Ed spend Mother's Day with Pam, to John's annoyance. "Do you know how confusing it's been to have to behave as though this stranger is my mother? To let her control me and monitor me this entire time?" Of course I do. But in my opinion, Pamela is a good mom and deserves flowers and appreciation, and we certainly haven't made it an easy year for her.

It's not a long drive to Old Orchard Beach, but we set out early yesterday and made it in time for a diner breakfast. After settling in, we had a lot of time to sit, play cards, and talk about things: where we've been, where we're going, what's next.

"There's a chance this goes wrong," I noted, "It happens, and if so, we'll adjust, but I'm going to make every effort to ensure it's right. We have to sleep every night the way we did the last time we were here."

"As I recall, we were cuddling, with me facing the east window," he said.

"Nothing weird about a boy and his grandfather sharing a bed," I shrugged.

"There's nothing not-weird about this scenario," he laughed. Then after a moment, he asked, "So what ended up happening with Christine?"

Ah, yes. The last time I wrote here, I had heard from Christine. I had thought that we would part ways simply, but as is so often the case in my life, simple is not so simple.

A few weeks ago, we met up for coffee. She was happy to see me, and I her -- to my embarrassment, it was a little like reuniting with an old lover, even though we had never technically been such. Over java, she explained her plight: she had a job offer, her first in a very long time, as a school administrator.

The problem? It was down in New Hampshire. That involves all kinds of moving expenses, money she can't come up with because she hasn't been working.

"I've asked you for so much," she said, a creak of sadness in her voice. "And I don't want anything from you in money, I've taken too much. All I need is for you to co-sign a loan for me."

I didn't like the sound of this. I asked her for the paperwork, which she had brought in her big woven purse. I put on my extra-thick reading glasses and began to scan.

"Christine, you can't do this," I said, almost immediately. The interest rates were what I would call predatory. She told me how much she was going to be making and I quickly deduced she would be paying this loan off until she retired. That's hardly the fresh start she needed.

"Ed, I don't have a choice!" she said, tears now welling up in her eyes. "I need to get out of Maine, I need this job, I have to do whatever it takes to make this work!"

"You ever hear the expression cutting off your nose to spite your face? Well, this is a nose, an eye and an ear. It's borderline usury. Just on this side of it."

"How do you know all this stuff, since when are you a lawyer?"

"I've got layers," I said with a grim smirk.

"Well, what else can I do? And don't say take the money from you, you know Pamela would never--"

"To hell with Pamela," I said. "I've got the money, I don't need it. It's yours, take it in good faith."

"Ed, no," she pled, "At the very least, let me pay it back... with whatever interest you want to charge."

"No, no," I insisted. Us getting into a long-term financial entanglement is the last thing I needed considering I won't be Ed much longer. I wanted to walk away free and clear, and I suppose -- somewhat selfishly -- I wanted to help repair someone's broken life without taking them to the Inn.

We met again a week later. I had the money order drawn up and some paperwork. It's boilerplate stuff basically absolving her of any responsibility to repay. It could theoretically be challenged in court since the signature on the bottom doesn't exactly look like the one on Ed's driver's license (though I tried hard to emulate it) but I took a picture of both of us holding up the contract and smiling to confirm that yes, Ed Levesque was of sound mind and body when he signed this paper, and under no duress.

After that we shared a celebratory beer, and then... gosh. It was like we were a couple of kids. Maybe it was the euphoria of her problems suddenly melting away, maybe it was the imminent goodbye on both of our sides, but we went back to her place and started kissing.

Soon it became a lot more than kissing as we explored each other's bodies in the way we had probably hoped to a few months earlier. If I were a mature and sensible person I would have put a stop to it before we got our clothes off, but it had been a long time since I had been in that position and I had been yearning for it...

Only for it to be stopped by outside forces.

"Ed," she said, reaching down, "I don't mean to offend you, but, um... are you... okay...? Down there...?"

There spirit is willing, but the flesh is... old and tired.

I looked down at my non-responsive Little Ed and sighed. You know, all these months, I hardly ever even thought about it, which was probably a sign about the way things were working down there. I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. Here I was, in bed with a woman I really did want, caught up in the moment, but my body seemed incapable of rising to the occasion.

No matter how much it made sense, no matter how much we probably shouldn't have proceeded, it gnawed at me. In my head, I am still a young-ish, vital person, even if I haven't been a man who has sex with women in years (and if you ask me ex-wife, she might say that that goes back well before our trip to the Inn...) Having that taken from me hurt on a level that most people probably wouldn't get. It's been a long time since my mind and my body were in synch that way, and this was a reminder of how far out of my control it all is, and will continue to be.

"Do you maybe... have a pill?" she asked hopefully. Ed's a fairly recent widower who was still in mourning for his wife, so that was a no.

We laid there in the altogether, hoping that something would happen that simply wasn't going to, before the moment passed. She kissed me goodbye and dressed herself, and we convinced ourselves it was for the best. Christine and Ed was not a thing that needed to happen. Not that Christine is so shallow that that's all she is interested in, but I took it as a sign, one of many, that I am not currently -- and maybe never will be -- the person she needs to fulfill her needs, and that I can lay to rest the idea that I am missing out on some great romance by not being able to spend more time with her.

It would seem that that chapter of my life is closed now... not without sadness or at least bittersweet notes, but it's for the best. Before long I'll be Ryan again -- hopefully -- and then I'll hand his life back and go on to my next adventure.

-Ed

Dave/Chris: End of an adventure

Shane and I are back at the Inn. We arrived today, and hopefully we'll be back in our bodies soon, and we can go back to our regular lives. I haven't posted much recently, because there hasn't been a whole lot to tell. We've been running the cafe and living pretty regular lives. After Shane had his threesome, things cooled off between the 2 of us, and we haven't had sex since. I guess that when Shane did this, a barrier went up from my side, and he hasn't pushed it since. We were also coming to the end of this journey, and I think that once we're back in our normal bodies, it might be easier to go back to how things were, if we're not currently having sex or in some kind of weird relationship.

I still worry about it, though. After what we've been through, and what we did together, can things ever go back to how they were? I guess we'll just have to wait and see. We're still fine, but I can sense a sort of awkwardness, which I can only describe as being similar to hanging out with an ex that you decided to try to stay friends with.

It's been an interesting experience, and we've both learnt a lot. Being trans for these months has really opened my eyes to the challenges that they face, and the frankly vindictive laws being enacted by the current administration that serve nothing, and trample all over a group of people that are marginalized anyway. The bathroom laws, for example, are ridiculous. I look very much like a man, but now I'm supposed to use women's bathrooms? And if I decide to play any team sports, then I should join a women's team? I'm quite sure that there would be objections if I did either of these things.

I'm also looking forward to going back to my business. Running a cafe is difficult anyway, but now, nobody knows what will happen to the supply or the prices of anything imported. As a locksmith, a lot of my business is opening the doors of people that have locked themselves out - which requires tools I have anyway. I also cut keys and install locks, but I managed to order a whole lot of blank keys and locks from a supplier a couple of months ago which they'll hold for me until I get back.

There is some apprehension about going back, though. When we were in Indy over Christmas, I realised just how fucked up my actual life is. I'm really motivated to try to fix what I can now, and build a life I'm happier in. Living the life of Chris was less stressful in a lot of ways. I was there temporarily, and whatever I did, and whatever happened, I won't be around to live out the consequences of. That's not to say I didn't try to do the right thing - but if I messed anything up, then it would make no difference to me in the long term. Having said that, I don't think that we made a mess of things, and Chris and Sylvia can go back without too many problems.

I wonder how Shane will adjust to going back to being a man. Looking at him, it's very difficult to see that he was ever anything but a woman. When we were packing to go to the inn, he went through Sylvia's closet and lamented that he didn't get to wear a lot of her summer dresses, because it's never been warm enough. On the other hand, he's often complained about the uncomfortable heels, the make-up and periods - or the lines for the ladies bathrooms, and having to sit to pee. I think I got it worse than him there, though. Men's bathrooms often only have one stall and someone has usually pissed all over the seat. He did adjust to being a woman very quickly and comprehensively, so I hope he adjusts to being a man again just as quickly. I'm mostly looking forward to getting my cock back. I constantly worry about someone finding out that I don't have one, and I'll be very happy when I won't have to deal with this anymore.

I think we'll mostly be spending our days walking around town, going to the beach and trying to treat it as a vacation. It's still quite nerve-wracking, because until we're back in our own bodies, a lot can still go wrong. We have decided on a very strict rule about staying in our respective beds from 11pm until the sun comes up. No going to the bathroom during the night, just in case, so the key will be not to drink much when we go out and particularly taking it easy on the beer.

Now we wait, and hope that it all goes to plan....

Aidan/Emilia: Please let us change back before swimsuit season.

So I got back from a shift at the bookstore the other day, and my younger son had left her bedroom door open, posing in front of the mirror in a string bikini, taking selfies and then staring at them critically. 

I tried to sound cool with it.  "Beaches open already?"  Surprisingly, she actually yipes, puts a hand in front of her groin and the other arm across her breasts, and quickly slams the door with her body.  This seems kind of unusual - Rusty certainly likes showing off her "Monica" body, and we'll all kind of run through the apartment half-dressed when we're in a rush - so I rap on the door.  "Everything okay?  I didn't mean to catch you by surprise."

She opened the door with a crop-top and jeans clearly just quickly pulled on over the swimsuit.  "No, it's fine, I just didn't think you'd be home for another hour."  She grabbed a glass of water and took a sip.  "I guess some of them never close, but Razzie's been talking about it finally being bikini weather, so I wanted to check and see if I could pull it off before she says we should hit the beach some Saturday or something."

"Really?  Don't take this the wrong way, but this doesn't seem like the sort of thing you usually worry about.  I really wish you would, but if it's suddenly a problem, I have to wonder if something's up."

"Nothing's...  I mean, nothing's happened to me or anything, it's just that wearing a bikini means my whole butt is out there and I can't see if it looks weird, and the top feels different from a regular bra, and, I dunno, it kind of doesn't feel like I'm wearing underwear but does feel like it could all come apart.  Sure, if someone unties something without me noticing and gets pictures of me naked, it won't be my problem for long, but, like, it feels kinda precarious."

I nodded.  "Well, first, your butt doesn't look weird.  Speaking as your gym buddy, you've got a great butt that you've put a lot of work into."

"Eww, Dad, gross!"

I raised my hands.  "Hey, like I said, that's your roommate and workout partner Emilia talking!  But as your dad, I can give you the old lectures about peer pressure and not doing anything you're not ready for.  And I'm sure Monica left you a one-piece swimsuit or two, maybe stuff for actually swimming laps or the like."

She nodded.  "Oh, yeah, she did, but I kinda wanted to try all the sexy stuff before we turn back.  Have a bunch of photos on a thumb drive saying I killed it later, and it feels good, you know?  Not so much folks saying I'm pretty, but that I chose a nice outfit or that I must work out."  She paused.  "You think I'll still like working out when I'm myself again?"

I nodded.  We'd been given the lives of three healthy and attractive young women, but there was a lot that we now know took effort despite having taken it for granted before, and compliments, especially when they come from (other) women can feel pretty good even if I feel like Emilia's genetics are doing most of the work.  "I don't know how much is that Monica's body is an endorphin factory and how much is that being her put you in a spot where you discovered you can like it, but I figure you might."  I paused for a second, wary of the next question.  "Are you going to miss being Monica?"

She shrugged.  "I mean, sure, but not the bras and periods and heels.  God, I can't wait to stand to pee again, even if the lines weren't so much shorter.  I'll probably really miss everything in the city, and Razzie and Chandra, and bar trivia.  It feels crazy that I'm going to have to wait years for people to treat me like an adult again!"

I had a brief thought about Rusty and Kutter throwing who was responsible for paying rent in New York in my face if I ever tried to impose a curfew.

"But, I've got to admit, when I'm doing Korean lessons or watching other people in class, that kind of feels right, you know?  Like where I should be.  And there's so much Monica probably learned in school that people expect me to know, and I'll sometimes hear from other-Rusty and freak out because I'd forgotten something or someone. I'm kind of ready to be done."

I gave her a big grin.  "You've got no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that, given how well you and Kutter have done and how quickly you adapted!"

- Aidan/Emilia

(That said, she went out to run laps around the park in just her sports bra and spandex shorts this morning!)

Jordan/Yuan-Wei: More Secretly American than Usual

Even though it probably wouldn't have done a lot of good or had much impact, considering that I've spent my life in New York, Massachusetts, and California before Hong Kong, I feel like it would have felt really good to cast votes again President That Fucking Guy in the last three elections.  And that's even before he did anything - as someone born and raised in Queens, hating That Fucking Guy is my goddamn birthright.

But he has done stuff, and I've been a woman with a Hong Kong passport for almost ten years now, and I'm dating a guy from here who is suddenly a whole heck of a lot less interested in seeing America than he was when Max and Jonah/Krystle invited me to their weddings last year.  I can't really blame him, at least up to the point where he says maybe I should just cancel what I've booked entirely, since it wasn't like this was family or anything, but just friends from years ago, and he's been sleeping on the couch for the past week.

Oh.  Yeah.  He didn't move back to his apartment after his lease lapsed, because being all up in each other's business all the time didn't drive us apart but instead confirmed that we do indeed like each other enough that neither he nor I is going to suddenly decide that we don't want the other around.  Not enough to make always being around each other and in the same bed after work something we're gonna want to stop, anyways.  I know that sounds like me avoiding saying I love him, which it's not - I do love him! - but that doesn't make me any less wary about sharing my space.

It's our space now, and in a lot of ways it's not that bad or different.  Dominic and I have a lot of the same tastes, even if he occasionally insists living in America has time my palate.  Over the past couple months, the food in the fridge is different, you see more stuff labeled in Chinese characters on the walls and shelves, some of my baseball stuff has given way to his martial arts stuff.  As I was telling Max during a zoom call the other day, it's starting to feel more like Jordan Lee's apartment than Jordan Chang's.

He laughed at that, saying I worry way too much about names and what they mean and if the Inn has fucked me up in some fundamental way, and he's probably right, but I point out that I'm zooming with him from a park rather than my living room because I couldn't talk about this sort of thing with Dominic around.  He says that's kind of going to be the new normal, though, because he didn't tell Pei Pei that he spent a year as someone else when he proposed and doesn't think it would be right to spring it on her at the wedding. 

That's when I understood the reason for arranging a call - he's just going to let his fiancée think Benny is his real fucking brother, and I'm just some girl who used to hang out with him and his folks because "Missy" was a theater kid who would come to New York to see shows while at school in Boston.  And while I get it - Pei Pei is a nice girl who has no connection to the Inn whatsoever (believe you me, folks checked!) - it made me feel like I was being pushed out of the family when I often feel like I work pretty goddamn hard to stay in touch.  I blew up at him a bit more than he deserved, though he sure fucking deserved some of it, probably because I was stressed out about visas and if I wanted to buy burner phones for the trip and just everything about how my home is rejecting me, again, in large part because That Fucking Guy is president again. 

I'm still coming, but there's a good chance my family and folks like Annette and Jonah won't get to meet my boyfriend, and I'll be making sure that there are folks ready to call lawyers to deal with ICE fuckery if I don't text every ten minutes after the plane lands for every airport.  It's crazy, considering I live in China (yeah, Hong Kong, but the SAR isn't nearly as S as it used to be), and makes me worry about whether I might just get cut off from people I care about long-term.  I know that's what happened with my grandparents, and what happens with a lot of Inn people, but I guess I've been in denial about it happening to me, and what sort of Hong Kong girl that will leave me. 

-Jordo

Aidan/Emilia: Happy Birthday... Katey?

A thing I didn't really bring up during the Taxes post is that, while filling out forms, we were reminded that we'd missed Monica's birthday in early March and that Katey's is the 28st of April.  I asked Rusty if she wanted to do something for it, but she said no; she'd just celebrated her real birthday, after all, although she did have some fun with how she's older than Kutter right now.  

Indeed, we'd all more or less figured it was no big deal, just making a couple of jokes in the morning, until we got to trivia that night.  Trivia's been a bit odd since Rusty was laid off from her old job; she still counts Razzie and Chandra as friends, but that they stayed while she was pushed out stings.  It's not making it better that things are actually looking much worse, and the company may just collapse entirely, although maybe it will be different when things do entirely fall apart.  The point is that we were all focused on the weirdness on Rusty's side of the table that we were completely blindsided when Lettie brought a lot of other folks from the office to sing "Happy Birthday", present her with gift cards, and then bring out a birthday cake at the midway point.

I don't think I've seen the particular expression on Kutter's face before, either as Katey or her real self - blushing red; eyes shut, covered, and pointed down; whole body quivering in a way that could be laughing or crying; but beaming wide.  The hair kind of shielding the sides of her face adds something to it that maybe it wouldn't have as a guy, perhaps.  She seemed deeply embarrassed that people would be giving her that sort of attention but appreciating it.  It made me feel pretty good because while Kutter's never exactly been what people call an introvert, he was never really one to find himself at the center of a circle in school or at camp or anything.  He's always been dependable and funny and able to poke back at me and Rusty, but sometimes I kind of think that people, maybe including me, took him being organized and conscientious for granted.

The affection from her colleagues seems pretty real, too - I already knew Lettie, but had only heard about Max, Jen, and "Ms. Grayson" second-hand - and, meeting her, I kind of get why Kutter can't quite bring herself to use her given name, even though I know I'm older and more experienced than her; she's friendly but always seems a step ahead of you - and it was kind of fun to have a cheering section.  Admittedly, I'm none too fond of Ms. Grayson's boss, who was paying entirely too much attention to my and Chandra's chests.  Though, I must admit, I often figure better me than the kids when we're out together.

After trivia, I wasn't surprised when her office-mates wanted to take "Katey" out for a few more drinks, and I kept myself from saying something like "be safe!" as she walked off, because that's a Dad thing to say rather than a roommate thing.  I still waited up for her after Rusty hit the sack, though I've got the excuse of how neither the bookstore nor the bar every wants me in as early as the kids' jobs do.

She came in at 1am or so and plopped down next to me on the couch, kicking off her heels.  "Oh my god why is tequila?"

I laughed before asking if she was going to be okay for work the next day.

"If I'm not, the folks at work have nobody to blame but themselves.  But I'll be fine.  It is my job to make the coffee and to order the coffee and there is going to be so much coffee."

I chuckled.  "Eh, they'll cut you some slack; they really seem to like you."

"Nah, they like Katey.  They like the girl I'm pretending to be.  But they'll have another one in a month and a half and won't know the difference, right?

"Hey, near as I can tell, Katey is about ninety percent Kutter, which isn't ideal, but pretty good.  Folks will definitely notice the difference."

"Well, maybe I should make it easy for them, tell them I have to move back home.  Wouldn't be a lie!"  She got up from the couch and then stood very still for a moment.  "Then again, they might throw me another party."

I laughed and waited for her to be done with the bathroom and flopped down into bed before doing the same myself.  So far as I can tell, they both managed to get to work OK this morning.

-Aidan/Emilia

Marc/Ed: Flirting with Danger

With Christine seemingly out of my life -- for the best but it doesn't feel that way -- I have a bit more free time. Too much, I would say. I've become the cliche of an old man puttering around the house all day waiting for his family to call.

Which Pam did, this past weekend, with an odd request: "I picked up a shift Saturday afternoon, would you take Cayden on his date?"

"On his what?"

Seems "Cayden" rehabilitated his reputation at school to the point where he was able to start "going out" with a little girl named Magnolia, which I heard a bit about going as far back as Thanksgiving.

"Don't sound so shocked, dad, they're just kids and they want to go see the stupid Minecraft movie. They're too young to know what dating really entails."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that... what with the TV and the YouTube." I swear, sometimes I sound exactly like the old man I am.

Part of me wanted no part of it, but I felt like it would be irresponsible of me to wash my hands of it completely, as the only person who is aware of the boy's true nature. When we had a moment alone before setting out I asked, "Okay, what the hell is going on here?"

"Ugh," he grunted, seemingly irritated by my questioning. "What do you think? Two children are going to see a children's movie."

"John, seriously," I sighed.

"What do you want from me, Marc?" there was palpable, very adult irritation in his voice. "I've felt alienated and drained since I got here. It's not good to feel like such an outsider all the time. I made a decision a long time ago that I was going to see these children as my contemporaries as much as possible. Learn about them, relate to them... is it really any different from your dalliance with that Christine woman?"

"Yes it is," I guffawed, "For a variety of reasons I shouldn't have to tell you."

"You're right, it is," he said, folding his arms across his chest and holding his nose in the air, "I, for one, am actually capable of keeping things innocent."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was more amused than offended.

"It means that you had no business even broaching a sexual relationship with that woman if you had no intention of following through with it. You led her on in a way you couldn't possibly make good on. I'm just a friend to this Magnolia girl. She's sharper than others, she has a good vocabulary, she's interested in things I have to say."

"Oh yeah? What's her take on tariffs?"

"Don't be like that," he sneered. "I only mean that being around her is slightly less mind-numbing than others. Anyway. This is strictly platonic. We're eleven for crying out loud. She asked me if I wanted to see this stupid movie, and I haven't been to the cinema in ages."

"So this is just your way of keeping busy."

"Exactly. Harmless socializing."

"Okay, I'm satisfied," I told him.

We arrived at Magnolia's, who's parents were all "Isn't this so cute" and I had to pretend I felt so too. It was interesting seeing John in "Cayden" mode, although he doesn't make a very convincing kid, still tossing ten-dollar words around and saying words like "cool" in a distinctly stilted way. Magnolia was clearly very happy to be out with him though, which was sweet and a little sad. When they were together, she did most of the talking, which I took as a tactical decision from John.

There was a few funny moments -- one when he begrudgingly went to sit in the back seat with her (bless the innocent child, she didn't try to hold his hand or anything) -- and one when Fleetwood Mac came on the radio. "Oh, I love this song," he said, "I remember when I saw them at--" and then stopped, trying to figure out how to finish that thought.

"You mean when I showed you them on YouTube?" I interjected.

"Yeah, that's right Grampa."

The girl politely bobbed her head through the song.

A hundred or so dollars on tickets and treats -- and one harmless if nonsensical (to me) flick later, the kids still had some energy to burn off so I gave them some more money for the arcade. "Cayden" actually appeared to be having fun at points, especially when they played something more generationally-open like air hockey.

When I got home, exhausted just from watching such youthful energy, I realized my phone was still off from when I went into the theater, which isn't a problem usually as besides Pam there isn't really anyone who wants to talk to me.

Except of course there was... a new message from Christine, which I was both glad and sad to get. 

"Hate to ask, but I need help. Let's talk?"

We have an outing set up for her to explain what exactly is going on.

-Marc

Aidan/Emilia: Life & Taxes

Has anybody else ever blogged about how the Inn tends to change people in the middle of summer, disrupting their lives enough to trigger a job change or even a move, meaning that there's a lot you don't necessarily know about half the previous year when it comes time to file "your" taxes?  Probably not, because it's neither traumatic nor sexy, but it is a real pain in the neck. 

I must admit, I was kind of slow on the uptake, because it didn't really occur to me that the kids were not going to be my dependents until I started filling out forms.  Then it just sort of gets bigger and bigger.  I had never given much thought to the insurance card in my wallet, since I inherited a pretty darn healthy shape and have not had to go to the doctor, but it turns out that Emilia was on her father's insurance, so I have to get in touch with him to make sure I get sent the proper paperwork.  I had to dig through her computer to find out about the work study job she had during her senior year and get in contact with the University to get the pepper forms forwarded on. 

(Did these girls ever fill out change of address forms after graduating?  Now that I think about it, I don't remember ever seeing anything forwarded to this apartment, but figured maybe that was just kids their age doing everything online and not having mail to forward.) 

Rusty's situation was about the same as mine - part-time job we had to dig up, health insurance through Monica's parents, basically the same sort of deductions for rent.  She absolutely could not believe that all of this information got sent to the government, then back to us, and then that we had to check their math and send it back or else they'd just keep the extra money that had been deducted or gave penalties.  This is, to be fair, the correct reaction.

Katey's situation was a bit trickier - she was on her parents' health care but Kutter had picked up the company's when she started her job, and Katey, having apparently been dead-set against asking her parents for help, had worked a lot more during college, including for a place that had gone out of business, and either despite that or because it was a lot to keep track of, some of her records were sketchy (if there's any one thing that makes us remember that we are still ourselves deep down, it's that Katey was not nearly as detail-oriented as Kutter).  Tracking some things down took effort, and after the way Kutter's Christmas visit went, Katey's parents were less eager to help than Emilia's and Monica's. 

There was also the matter of what to do with the money that had been anonymously deposited in or bank accounts for the first few months, which amounted to just enough for each of us that it had to be included.  All told, we each wound up receiving refunds, although not really enough for any of us to splurge on anything.  Or, more likely, the next group, since the odds that these would be processed and deposited before we returned to the Inn was slim even before the cuts at the IRS.

Rusty did some math and figured the time spent on it was not exactly a great hourly wage, and asked what would happen if we hadn't bothered and just let the federal and state governments keep the excess.  Probably nothing, I said, but there might have been trouble if the deductions had been a hundred dollars off on the other direction, and it wouldn't be fair to let the next people living these lives catch that. 

This process all got started because the woman living my life sent me a message asking if I had anything other than my main W-2 to worry about.  She works in finance in her real life, and was at a big New York firm one upon a time, so my family's taxes was basically nothing difficult for her.  But, on the flip side, I do appreciate her making sure it would be nothing difficult for me. 

- Aidan/Emilia

Dave/Chris: Being cheated on

Well maybe I wasn't exactly cheated on, because Shane told me beforehand, and I even said it was OK, but it wasn't and it hurt...

Shane went with a few of Sylvia's girlfriends on a night out last week. He seems to like dressing up, going out and being one of the girls, and the novelty of being an attractive woman, getting the attention of men has apparently not worn off yet. I've seen it myself, but it's never really bothered me before, because our "relationship" is time limited, and in any case, I never thought that he would take things further.

From what he told me, he met a couple at the bar that they were all at, and started talking to them. At some point, the rest of the girls moved on, or went home, but he stayed and talked to them. The drinks were flowing and a proposition of a threesome was made - I don't know by whom, but it doesn't really matter. 

The next day, he brought it up with me. He said that in the beginning, it seemed to be a joke, and everyone was treating it as such, but the longer they talked, the more serious the invitation was, and by the end, they'd given him their number and tentatively made plans for it this weekend.  He initially thought that he would never call them, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to try it. He said "I know that I'm bisexual right now, and I've been wondering what sex would be like with a real penis. This might be my last chance" That stung, because I'm pretty sensitive about missing my manhood, and still very self conscious about it. He could see my discomfort and put his arm around me. "Look, I didn't mean it like that, but it's something I've wanted to try. If you're not OK with it, then tell me." I wasn't happy about it, but I couldn't say no, because we're not really in a relationship, or at least it doesn't have a future, and I wanted to be supportive and not sound unreasonable.

So on Saturday night he went. I intended to stay home, but couldn't. I needed to do something, so I went out to a bar, and for reasons I can't explain right now, I decided to go to a rough dive bar. I just wanted to go somewhere, where I could sit on my own and get drunk. I've mentioned before that I pass pretty well, but occasionally, I still get identified as trans. Unfortunately, this was one of the times that it happened.

I was downing my 4th or 5th whisky, and noticed a big guy looking at me, then he went and spoke to his friends, and pointed my way. I tried to ignore him, but he was suddenly standing next to me. "This isn't a gay bar", he said threateningly. San Francisco is a pretty tolerant place, but that doesn't mean that everyone is cool with gay or trans people, and unfortunately, the current administration has emboldened these people. I tried to ignore him and turned away. "I'm talking to you....", he said, as he knocked the drink out of my hand, the glass shattering on floor. I looked at the bartender, who just turned and looked away. He came up close to my ear and I could smell the tobacco and beer on his breath. "You have exactly 20 seconds to get the fuck out of here, or I'll kill you", he whispered in my ear. I wasn't exactly in a position to argue, so I got up and left, hearing obscenities and threats about never coming back here again as I walked out the door. I ordered an Uber as I walked a couple of blocks away, shaking the entire time. I was terrified that they'd come after me. Luckily they didn't, but I'd never been so scared in my life.  I got home, still shaking and it took me a good while and a few drinks to calm down. Eventually I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up early to work in the cafe, and Shane still wasn't home, so I texted to make sure he was OK. He replied a little later and told me they were going to have breakfast and he'd be home after that. I didn't see him until later in the day, and I didn't ask him how it was, because I didn't want to know, and he didn't offer to tell me anything either. He did seem to be in a particularly good mood, though, so I imagine that he enjoyed it. I didn't tell him about what happened to me.

I just want to go back to the inn, go home, and leave all this behind...

Marc/Ed: Didn't even have a chance

Christine and I have had semi-regular dinners and coffees since shortly after we met, so I'm not sure why it felt so hard to make plans with her in the wake of our recent dalliance.

Okay, I do know. For the first time in a very long time, I like someone. I like her, but I can't be with her. We are within two months of returning to the Inn, at which point the role of Ed will go back to its originator and I think he would prefer to live out his days alone, looking after Pam and Cayden and Caesar the dog. 

Which is fine. It's great, actually. I do not want him to take up my relationship (such as it is) with Christine. I do not want Christine to try to have a connection with him, thinking he's still me inside. It's an impossible situation that is going to require breaking some eggs to get out of.

So I put off reaching out to her out of self-consciousness about that fact... wanting to see her but not wanting to face the truth, and not knowing how to break it off gently or what I was even going to do or say. And in all this time she didn't really contact me either, there was a frostiness between us and it seemed like we had crossed a line we didn't mean to cross when she spent the night at my place (half naked in my bed.)

You may not think it but that's a memory I will cherish for a very long time...

After a few furtive, fumbling attempts at communicating in the last few weeks, we finally did manage to sit down, and what she said was surprising to me.

"We made a mistake, that wasn't right, this can't happen."

I was taken aback. I was supposed to be the one saying these things, but I felt no relief hearing them out of her mouth. I was confused and a little hurt, even though it was "easier" for me to get it this way.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and admitted, "I'm sort of on the same page... but I'm curious what makes you think that?"

She sucked in her teeth, like she wasn't sure how to put it. Deep breath, hold, looking around the room, finally she said some generic stuff about "When it happened, it felt great, but afterward something just felt off, and everything that was right about it kind of was tainted, and... well, then there's Pam..."

Pam, huh.

"She's been calling me, asking, more demanding to know what's going on between us, am I after your money, or... or what, and I... I just don't have the stomach for it, Ed."

I was dismayed. This was not the sort of thing that was supposed to come between us. This, to me, was the kind of thing that if you liked someone, you figured it out. And if I were in any position to do so, I probably would have dismissed it and said "Hey, you let me worry about Pam, I want us to explore this" because that's what I wanted. 

"You're a fun guy to be around, Ed. More fun than I would expect for a man your age, no offense. There's life left in you, and I hope that you enjoy your time and maybe find someone else who doesn't get off on the wrong foot with your daughter."

I placed a hand on top of my thinning scalp to absorb all of this, and run it through the filter of what do I think and then what should Ed think.

"I wish we could run away together," I said, perhaps with half a smirk, thinking of the Inn. "Someplace we didn't have to worry about Pam and all that. But that's not in the cards."

"No sir," she said.

We hugged and parted ways and I was left alone, a throbbing ache in my chest. When things ended with Laura it felt different... it was a slow disintegration that I didn't even notice happening so that when we were torn apart by the forces of the Inn we were both ready for it to happen. This was heartbreak. But it was necessary.

I wondered, as someone who is seemingly doomed to a life of wandering through the Inn, if I would ever be in a place to find love again. I literally do not know who I'll be in a year, but who does?

I went home and I thought about it all and I wondered exactly what Pam knew, or thought she knew, about me and Christine, and how. The answer seemed clear. I reached out to John, to ask what exactly he had told his "mom."

"Everything I could reasonably know," he said -- casually, like it was no big deal, "That you gave her money, that I thought I heard she'd slept over... of course I have to pretend like I'm a kid who doesn't know what that means."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, trying to mask my hurt.

"Because I couldn't let you get attached, Marc. I was looking out for you, the same way you looked out for me. You seemed to have some trouble detaching yourself from her. We have to move on, now don't we? I go back to where I came from, you move on to whatever it is you think you have ahead of you... better luck next time. Tell me if I'm wrong, if you honestly can."

I couldn't. It didn't feel good, but it wasn't wrong. The same way he eventually admitted it wasn't totally wrong for me to bring him to the Inn in the first place.

Hard truths. Sometimes it just doesn't work. 

Ande: Shipping Down to Boston?

Is seeing Dropkick Murphys at Fenway Park (well, the connected music hall) on St. Patrick's Day weekend the most stereotypical college male thing imaginable?  Maybe.  But my roommate Griff bought four tickets last fall, but that turned out to be super-optimistic:  We actually lost a roommate over winter break - not lost like "dead", but like "his grades were terrible and he figured maybe he'd be happier as an electrician than an electrical engineer" - who was going to use his second pair, and asked me if I'd be interested.  I wasn't, at first, but Hildy thought it would be a lot of fun.  So we said we'd take them a couple weeks ago, and he put the other one up (purchased for the girl who got back with her high school boyfriend over Christmas) on SutbHub or something, and I didn't think a lot of it.

Then, at around noon on Saturday, I get a text from Mack, saying she's at Alewife, and was I up to anything?  Hildy was doing something with lab partners, and while I had figured on studying all afternoon myself, I was already looking for excuses not to, since it was kind of a surprisingly nice day, so I said why not; we'll meet up at the Common.

I was scrolling on my phone when I heard her call out and looked up and did a little blink.  It's been almost a year and a half since I've seen her in person, and she sure hit me different now that she's seventeen and I've kind of accepted that I'm probably going to live out my life as a man who likes women.  She was wearing blue jeans that had rips up and down the legs from how tight they were, high-top sneakers, a white crop-top and a full-zip hoodie tied around her waist.  Maybe a bit too much makeup, but her short haircut was cute.  "That's not a college-visiting outfit."

She laughed.  "Yeah, like I'm getting into some fancy Boston college!  Nah, just down for a concert tonight."  She grinned for a second like she wanted me to ask what before blurting it out.  "Don't laugh, but I'm seeing the Dropkick Murphys."

I folded my arms, kind of suspicious.  "Really."

"I know, it is so white it has bagpipes, but look at me.  I am in fact just that white, as far as anybody can tell, and not only did a guy in my class put them on a playlist for me, but I should probably make some effort to get in touch with the Irish hooligan roots everyone will assume I have when I go off to Springfield on my own."  She shrugged.  "Besides, Jonah is getting married to a great guy i would have met if I'd been staying with Momma during quarantine, and every once in a while the invitation on the fridge makes me want to scream.  It's good screaming-at-injustice music."

"And you didn't know I was going to the same concert?"

She started to open her mouth to reply, but held it like that for a while.  "I think you might actually have put it on my radar by putting it in the group text, but aren't they playing all weekend?  Anyway, we're probably on opposite sides of the building."  Without it needing to be said, we pulled our phones out and brought out the ticket apps.  She started laughing even harder when she saw we were two seats apart.  "Oh my god, what are the motherfucking odds?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend's going to find this hilarious."

She gave me a look that seemed to be trying to imply she was wiser than her years.  "C'mon, Ande.  I may have been that kind of bitch before, but I haven't been in a long time.  And you're still a kid to me."

"Is that what you thought when you offered to, you know..."

Her eyes went as big as they could, and then she shook her head.  "Damn, I did offer that, didn't I?  I mean, mostly it was about making sure you didn't miss out, but, let's be honest, the teenage part of me did have a crush on you.  You are good-looking and it would be nice to be with someone who knows, but, honestly, I've had three high school boyfriends and it's great fun until they do something that makes me go 'that's so cute', and you're kind of doing that right now."  She folded her arms and smirked.

I raised my hands in surrender, we declared a truce, and then went to find ice cream before hitting Newbury Comics and other places around Quincy Market for the afternoon.

I guess I'm not supposed to find shopping that much fun as a guy, and I know that when I'm getting stuff for myself, I'm kind of happy to just see what's got a good price at Marshall's (when I'm not at home), but i don't know if that's all I need as a straight guy or if I know how much fun I could be having and don't want it to bring me down.  I haven't really had a chance to be "dragged along" with Lindy yet, but I had a good time with Mack, and I don't think that because she was giving me some sort of treat.

Somewhere around or four I texted Lindy that I'd run into a friend who was also going to the concert, so maybe we could grab dinner.  Mack suggested a Mongolian barbecue place after seeing that all of her other go-to places from when she lived in the area were gone.  She was starting to say something about that when Lindy arrived and gave us the look I'd been dreading.  "I didn't realize 'Mack' was a high-school girl."

"Oh, yeah, my family wound up vacationing in her hometown for a couple summers in a row and we wound up hanging out."  It didn't sound weird to me, and Lindy shrugged it off.  Eventually, Griff showed up, we ate, and wound up at the show

Which was a lot of fun!  I'm not sure I would have been into the band as Andi, but Mack's right in that it's the sort of punk you can yell with but still be having fun because, like, the first song of the concert was some sort of Revolutionary War-era thing about making out in the servants' quarters or something like that and they've also done deep-cut baseball songs, although Griff said they didn't do either of the big ones that night (unless you count "Shipping Up to Boston", which, I guess became a pitcher's entrance music because it's about dismemberment).

Griff and Mack hit it off, at least, although I didn't realize how well until I realized Mack was still heading to our apartment while I turned off to head to Hildy's because her roommates were still on spring break.  She had an early morning call with some overseas classmates, so I went back to my place in the morning, where I found Mack making coffee in her crop-top and panties.

"Fun night?"

She smiled.  "Let me tell you, 19-year-old boys don't really know what they're doing, but they can do it all night!  Trust me, I know from both sides of this!  Anyway, want a cup?"  I nodded, and she poured two.

"Cary going to be worried?"

"Nah, he knew I'd be staying over somewhere, probably here, although he'll tell anyone who asks that I found a hotel room when the concert didn't finish before midnight."  She smirked.  "Kind of hoped it would be with you, but you really like your girlfriend."

I stopped drinking my coffee but still held the mug in front of my face.  "What?"

She sighed.  "I'm awful.  I told you, I get frustrated about my boyfriends being kids, but I tell myself that the real problem is I hate lying to them - which, let me tell you, is kind of new, because I absolutely was that bitch the first time I was in high school - and I figured, hey, maybe Ande will get me.  But, no, you're really into Hildy, which is sweet, but, annoying."  She took a sip.  "How do you do it?  Like, ever since that first time at the Inn, I've always been with people who knew I wasn't really the person they see, but now I'm looking at college in Springfield, and while I'm kind of psyched to be the first person in my family to go, even if it's the long way around and Momma and Karla will never know..."  She held out her arm.  "I mean, look how pale I am at the end of the winter.  Am I just going to start thinking of myself as a white chick once I've got nobody who remembers me being otherwise?"

"There's worse things to be."

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that and you're my favorite white girl!"

"Whose dick you were after."

"Right!  Where am I gonna be if I don't have people bringing me back down to Earth?"

I laugh.  "I know.  Maybe you could come to First Thursdays, after you graduate?"  I told her about the regular meet-ups at the Changeling.

She seemed about to say something when Griff came out of his room, and we looked at each other a bit disappointed that we were going to have to start talking like normal people, improvising together on the fly when he asked why we'd never hooked up.  Girff asked if we wanted to do brunch, but Mack said she kind of wanted to drive, so she got her pants on, let me walk her to the Hynes station, and gave me a little peck before heading to Park then Alewife then points north.

I've got to admit, it's been hanging with me the past week, especially when I looked at Andie's pictures of herself in a bikini at spring break and thinking how she really doesn't have much reminding her of her old life when Mom and Dad aren't around, and maybe that's better that feeling I'm lying to Hildy.  It doesn't happen very much - although I kind of wonder how she parses me being happy to talk about my family but not really telling any stories from more than a couple years ago - but it does, occasionally, and, heck, sometimes I wonder what Mack thinks of me always calling her "Mack" when I know she's Krystle, and whether I'll wind up somewhere where I'm just this guy and nothing else to anyone else in a couple years, to the point where I might try and do something I know is wrong to not entirely disappear inside being "Andrew".

-Ande/Andy/Andi

Dave/Chris: Living with ourselves

Shane and I have settled into more of a relationship now. We're still having sex, and now when we go out together, it's like we're dating - I guess we probably are actually dating. We both make more of an effort to look good for each other, we hold hands and kiss sometimes, and the dynamic has changed. What strikes me the most is how much of a woman Shane has become. I'm nowhere near as comfortable as he seems to be, and he changed more than I did. I may have a different body and genitalia, but unless you're looking for it, you can't really tell that my body used to be female. On the other hand, Shane's whole position in society has changed. It's particularly noticeable during sex. Shane seems to love being penetrated, and encourages it, whereas for me, it took some time to adjust, and even though it feels good, and it's really sexy, when we're both at either ends of a double ended dildo, there's still a degree of discomfort for me that I haven't seen in him for a long time.

After transforming at the Inn, I was genuinely shocked to find that I had a pussy, but there was something a bit arousing about it too. But when I tried to play with it on the first night in San Francisco, it just seemed wrong, so I didn't get very far, and blogged about it when I finally tried again. Shane told me that he first masturbated a few days after we got to San Francisco, and I think he's been attending his needs regularly since then.

Aside from this, he moves like a woman, acts like a woman and dresses like a woman. I look, act and dress like I don't know what I am. I had to ask him again if he had ever wanted to be a woman before. He assures me that he didn't, but after trying to fit in as a woman, he found that he could do it, and although he felt awkward in the beginning, he's adjusted.

This made me think. Maybe I should see what it would be like to try on women's clothes, just to see how it feels, and whether I could imagine being comfortable wearing them. Even though my body normally looks quite male, there are parts that also look more feminine, like my hips are wider than most men, and my shoulders narower, so it shouldn't be too hard to see a woman if I dressed myself as one. So one day, when Shane was out, I put on one of Sylvia's dresses, and heels (our shoe size is almost the same). I put on a bra and stuffed it with socks. I have a beard and a very short haircut, so it doesn't look right, and I expected that it would probably look OK, except for the beard and hair. However, when I stood in front of the mirror, everything else looked and felt wrong, and only the beard and hair looked right. I lasted maybe 10 minutes, before I had to take it all off again.

I couldn't see that I would ever be comfortable wearing any of that, even if I tried to get used to it. In this blog, it's well known that people gain their bodies sexual preferences. It happened to Shane as well, otherwise, I don't think he'd want to have sex with a man - even one who has a pussy. But thinking about it, it seems that gender identity must also stay with the bodies we inherit. Although it's never been explicitly mentioned, it seems like everyone on this blog has accepted the gender they're in eventually. Shane has the body of a woman whose gender identity is female, so he's had a much easier time adjusting to having female genitalia, than I have, in the body of someone whose gender identity is male.

I'm very curious to see how Shane adjusts to be being male again in a couple of months, but I think that he'll adjust back quickly, because he also adjusted to being female very quickly, and his "default" state should be male. I want to see how long it takes him to lose the female movements and mannerisms that he's picked up.

I also didn't want to talk about politics again, but I don't think I can get around it. Chris has a passport that's good for another 3 years, and it identifies him as male. When he goes to renew it, then from everything that's happened, he'll get one that identifies him as female. I'm less worried about bathrooms and sport. The focus is not on female to male trans people, like myself, but on male to female. Cindy is freaking out though, quite understandably. She was due to fly to europe for a holiday in summer, which she's now cancelled, because she needed to apply for a passport first, and she would have to travel on a male passport. She was worried about the implications of that at international borders. Nobody can really understand what the point of all this is, but I think if I hadn't been transformed, then I wouldn't care about this - I'm embarassed to say, that I might even have supported it. But having lived this life for the more than half a year, I can see that I'm surrounded by folks who just want to live as well as they can, and don't deserve this. I'm lucky, because I'm going back to my old life in less than 2 months, but everyone else is stuck. I'm almost tempted to tell Cindy to come with us, but I saw what happened to Marc and John.

We're also in uncertain times with our costs. We sell a lot of fresh produce, and have already had to add a surcharge to eggs. The cafe is in an affluent area, and a lot of our customers have money, so they can afford the extra charge, but this uncertainty another reason to be glad that this is almost over. This has been an educational experience, but I'll be happy when I can leave this life. Chris and Sylvia will face a lot of uncertainty when they return to their lives....and I can only say that I'm glad that we have a way out.

Marc/Ed: Spring Cleaning

Now that we're almost at the end of this experience, the dynamic of our little makeshift family has started to change for the positive, much to my surprise. After John's little suspension, and the conversation(s) that followed, tensions between he and I thawed and I can tell hi perspective has changed. Not that I want to justify what I did in bringing him to the Inn -- honestly, it's one of my biggest regrets in life -- but he's certainly made peace with it and is willing to engage me as "grandfather" and also as a contemporary. The lines of communication are open, which is going to make the final stretch of this tour that much more bearable.

Pam, too, as long as I don't mention the name Christine. She invited me to Cayden's bowling birthday party this past weekend. I was up for it, and had fun, but I think it was a little awkward for the kids because a lot of them know something weird happened with Cayden recently but they don't know what it was or what it means. Not that I think it particularly bothered John -- surely he doesn't care about the approval of a bunch of  grade-schoolers, it just made the mood of the party a bit less festive.

I was more worried about keeping up with my fellow adults. It turns out my mind and body have different ideas about what I can do -- I bowled like a much younger man, I was laid up the whole next the day with back pain and leg cramps because of it.

Which sucked, of course, because I was planning on doing some work around the house. I'll admit I have not been in the habit of tidying the place. When I was Chantelle, I kept the apartment almost spotless, because I had energy to burn off after long days of work, and I had other reasons to do so, including but not limited to respect for the woman herself. With Ed, I tried to offer him the same respect but I got a bit behind. Neglecting to dust and vacuum eventually became letting the bathroom become dingy and letting grease accumulate on the kitchen countertops, that sort of thing.

Christine was going to help me, so I messaged her not to bother stopping by, we'd find another time, but sure enough she arrived at my door. I again told her to go home, but she insisted. "You'd probably just slow me down, anyway," she laughed.

So she cleaned and I watched from the recliner and we talked. I let her use her best judgment as to "what goes where" in putting junk away, because I have not really figured out a good organizational scheme for Ed's life. She mentioned she had job interviews coming up, but she had to buy some new clothes because she had gone up a few sizes since her last round of interviews. I laughed quietly to myself -- I don't suppose she'd believe me if I said I knew what it was like having to maintain your figure for fashion's sake.

I told her I'd transfer her a bit more, and she said no, really, she can just find some sales, it's just venting. I reminded her my money's not doing anybody any good, and it's not like Pam is missing out on some big windfall if I give a friend a few hundred bucks. (Again, unbeknownst to either woman, this is not Ed's money we're talking about.)

We ordered Chinese food and split a bottle of red wine, and then another one, and we talked long into the night, her about her late husband, me in code about Laura and other things that had gone on in my life. And we eventually decided that it was not a good idea for her to drive home.

And I only have one bed.

And the couch isn't very comfy.

You know, I've got this voice screaming in my head, "Marc, you have screwed things up enough for one lifetime, or more. Find some way out of this." But I either couldn't, or I didn't want to. We got into bed together, and we just fell into each others' arms and started kissing. That's as far as it went, but she asked if it was okay if she slept without any clothes on besides underwear, and I said, whatever she was comfortable with.

It's kind of funny. It isn't like Christine is objectively sexy and irresistible, but it doesn't matter. When you feel something for someone, their exterior is the least of your concern. You find things to like about them because they are them. I found myself enjoying her pudgy rolls, the droop of her bosom, the lines on her face. Excited to be close to her like this. I wished I could tell her all of this. I like her a lot more than I should, and it kind of hurts.

When I woke up with my arms around her warm, soft body, her breast in my hand, I felt bittersweet. It has been a while since I have been in that situation, and a lot longer if you skip over my fling with John, and it made me sad to think I had no idea where this could possibly lead or what the future could hold.

In the morning, we woke up in kind of a daze, half thinking it was a mistake and half thinking it was inevitable and we should give in. Of course, she doesn't know the full truth of it, which isn't fair to her, but how can I tell her that?

She must have been feeling weird too, because it's not like she kissed me again in the morning, she kind of just put her clothes on and left with a polite "see you later."

We haven't spoken much since.

-Marc

Jonah/Krystle: Yes to the Dress

Just when I think I've totally adapted to being a woman and gotten everything else in my life lined up, my mom barges in on me while I'm in a dressing room stripped down to my bra and panties.

I should have been ready for the possibility; choosing a wedding dress with my moms was always going to involve a lot of stripping down and fewer boundaries than usual, but I've spent so much of my time with my parents and parental figures trying to be either a good girl or boyish - or ideally landing somewhere sexless - that is wasn't really prepared for what an outing focused on their daughter looking good for her wedding would be like at all. 

It just happened this past weekend - my mom was ready to come back the weekend after her vacation, but Momma Kamen wasn't, and then there was Mardi Gras, so they all decided to save a little money and come in after.  I'd done a little poking around various shops, sending emails back and forth to them and our wedding planner, and the place we found was relatively affordable and not afraid of what they saw as kind of short notice.  Two months out for a dress doesn't seem that long, but then, I've never tried to make ilor alter one.

I didn't think I was feeling or acting particularly self-conscious in front of them at first, although I soon discovered that getting into a wedding dress isn't exactly a one-person job as I tried the first one on.  I didn't like it much at all; it had seams that seemed designed to rub my nipples the wrong way, though i was glad the others didn't need to hear that before saying we should see some others.  The second kind of had the opposite problem - it draped off me like a parachute - and I was in the dressing room about to put the next one on when Mom came in with my phone.

I actually did the thing where you try to cover your"breasts and groin with your hands.  "What the heck, Mom?"

She held the phone up.  "It's Moira."

Blushing, i took out and turned to the side.  "Hey, honey...  You okay?"  She was, of course; she just wanted to know if she could go sharing with some of her friends, since I'd told her to call of she wasn't going to stay at Josie's house.  I asked to talk to Josie's mother, who assured me it was a safe parking lot and she'd be watching.  I thanked her, told Moira she could but to be careful, and asked if she had her key to get her skates because Gabe was out.  I turned around and saw Mom still there, staring.  "What?  I'm a good mom!"

"I know you are!  It's just...  I don't think I realized you had all this going on under your clothes.  Why have you been trying to hide it under a wedding dress that could pass as a white tent?"

"What do you mean you didn't realize...  Oh, wait, you've only seen me a few times since I was pregnant, right?  Mostly before I really started climbing, and I wasn't exactly wearing a bikini to June's graduation party."  I turned to look in the mirror.  "Yeah, I guess I look pretty all right, if you're into fit girls.  Although, it's not like the original Krystle is the only person who thinks I should have tiny little smooth waist instead of some abs, and skinny legs.  Other folks say my arms make me look mannish."  I chuckled.  "Not the compliment it used to be."

She snorted.  "White folks, right?"  I half-nodded; it's not just white guys but they do say that more often.  "You look good.  Anyway, get that thing on."

She stepped out of the room, I got changed, and then came out again.  Momma Kamen nodded but Mom said to see if they had anything sexier.  "Let's let Gabriel's family know he's done well for himself!"

I think my jaw actually dropped in surprise.  "If the girls in Sunday School could hear you now!"

"There is a difference between a girl looking to get herself in trouble and making sure the groom's family sees you're a grown woman they can't push around!"

The staff of the shop had apparently heard it all, because they said nothing and just fetched me another dress. I went into the dressing room but soon saw there was no getting it on myself; part of it was a corset and while maybe the original Krystle knows her way around those, I sure don't.  I poked my head out, saying I could use a little help, and Momma Kamen stepped forward, staring Mom back into her chair.  She looked at the laces and started pulling.  "Too tight?"

Surprisingly, it wasn't, although the way it pushed my breasts up felt odd, different even from a push-up bra.  "No, that's okay, I think I can take a bit more."

She nodded, and pulled a couple strings tighter.  "I apologize for Mrs. Glass's behavior.  It was generous for her to get me down here, but that bit about getting into trouble was out of line."

"I mean, she's not wrong.  The moment I found out I was going to have a baby, it sure seemed like I was in trouble."  I took a breath, reminding myself that as far as Momma Kamen was concerned, I was her daughter and my mom was the one who was butting in to her family business, and the night she came to collect me must have been really strange and horrifying.  "She and her husband, they didn't see any of this coming, and sometimes trying to help is a lot like taking charge for them."  It was weird to talk about my parents as a "them", especially with Mom in the next room, so it was probably good that I didn't have both around that often.

I knew it was too much as soon as I looked in the mirror, but dutifully went out and made Mom realize we'd gone too far. It had this big ol' upside-down U cut out of the front which was nice for walking but also pushed the girls up way too aggressively and the lacy gloves were just weird.  I pointed out that some of Gabe's friends might have gone to college in Boston and we didn't exactly want them to suddenly remember Krystle's stripper name in the middle of the ceremony.

We tried another couple before finding one everybody liked, which does show off some deep cleavage and clings to my butt, but is floor length and has got neat sleeves which show off my shoulders.  Kind of a nice veil, which is a weird thing to say.  I'm probably going to have to buy a couple dresses or skirts with the same sort of slit for my legs so I can practice walking in something like that, since it didn't feel totally natural.  The shopkeepers  had some ideas about the wedding-night lingerie which would match, but having my moms there for that was too much.

I've still got another few appointments at the place, both for fittings and to get bridesmaids' dresses sorted out, which is a heck of a thing when one is flying in from Hong Kong and two from Boston, and nobody local aside from "junior bridesmaid" Moira, who is a bit too old for traditional flower girl things.

The dress is apparently going to run something like $1800, which is below average, believe it or not, because Momma Kamen is a fierce negotiator who was able to make it look like I was reluctantly not having quite so many fittings and progress reports rather than being perfectly happy to just pick something off the rack.

We all went out to dinner that night, which wasn't as tense as I thought it might be - Mom and Momma Kamen apparently thought the whole thing was funny afterwards, and I guess I should be glad Moira was there so that Gabe didn't fully hear them roasting me.  Both of them flew out the next morning on the same flight to Boston, though, I noted, on seats at the opposite ends of the plane.

Two and a half months to go.

-Jonah/Krystle

Marc/Ed: Ice cream

Pam didn't contact me for a while after finding out I had floated some money to Christine. I sensed that this prolonged period of silence was colored by a little more animosity and pointedness than her standard periods of not being in contact with her father, although it didn't last all that long in the end, as I got a call yesterday.

"Dad, I'm at work, and I need you to pick Cayden up at school. He's being suspended."

"What?" I gasped, "Why?" Being that I knew that Cayden is, in reality, a grown man (who has his flaws but is generally more or less a model citizen) I had to wonder what this could be about. Fighting? Talking back?

"I don't know the details," she huffed, "They said they couldn't tell me over the phone."

Pam was at least able to say that nobody -- not Cayden or anyone else -- was in any physical peril, which put my mind at ease, but still caused me to wonder. I got to the Principal's office and identified myself as the boy's grandfather, authorized guardian, etc. The Vice Principal -- an older woman (well, I guess that's relative ... older than I used to be, younger than I am now) -- took me into her office and sat me down at her desk. She looked serious but not, I suppose, grave.

"I'm trying to be delicate here, Mr. Levesque, because it's not funny, and of course it does happen from time to time, but the situation cannot go unaddressed."

"What situation is that?"

"Cayden was found... abusing himself in the restroom."

I don't know what my face would have looked like then, but I would guess it to be a mixture of aghast, confused, and a little intrigued.

"Abusing himself? You mean he was..." she looked at me, nodding along, as if she couldn't say it but I had to: "Masturbating?"

"That's right," she said, trying to retain her prim and proper posture. "Kids will be kids, of course, but they do need to be told that there's a time and a place for that sort of thing."

"Of course," I said. The shock was wearing off now and I was trying not to find the whole thing funny.

"You said someone found him," I went on, "In the restroom?"

"Yes, he had, erm... neglected to lock the stall. Whether on purpose or out of... negligence..." I could tell it was paining her to have this conversation, which only made it more amusing to me. I covered my face and snickered into my hand. "The child who found him has been offered counselling, and we've decided to suspend Cayden for the remainder of the day and tomorrow."

"This is really something you get suspended for?" I snorted. "Don't you think the embarrassment is enough?"

"Mr. Levesque, please, there is a code of conduct we expect all students to abide by."

"All right, all right, I'll take him home."

'Cayden' said nothing, staring at his shoes from the office back to the car. We got him buckled in and once we were alone, I asked, "Let's hear it."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, Pam is going to ask me what's up, so I need to at least hear your side of the story."

He let out a very adult grunt, then went on. "Miss Hastings. She's a young teacher, maybe twenty-five, and she's quite... curvaceous."

"Uh huh?"

"'Uh huh' what?"

"Well, how did that lead to...?"

"Do I have to draw you a diagram? You were a straight man in a previous life, right?"

"Right, right..." I said, keeping my eyes on the road, "I'm just looking for insight. I wouldn't have expected this, given you're... well, your age."

"Oh, come on," he huffed, "Let's not be naive. Lots of eleven-year-olds are capable of that, they just don't know it and have no reason to try."

"You're right, you're right," I allowed.

"I've tried to ignore it," he went on, "But you know how it is. You can want to ignore it all you want, but your body has other ideas. It demands you give in to impulse. I had already spent half a day in agony, how much longer should I have held out?"

"Until you got home, at least!" I chuckled.

"It's never been a problem before."

"It's happened before?"

"For weeks now!" he said, as if it should have been obvious. "I keep telling myself I'll stop, but then I remember that it's one of the few outlets I have available to me."

"This is just the first time you got caught."

"I was careless," he muttered.

"And the boy that found you... I'm struggling to figure out why he had to go get the Principal involved."

"Because it was a girl," John grunted.

"Excuse me?"

"The only bathroom available was the single-use one. Gender-neutral. I was in such haste I forgot to lock it."

"You traumatized that poor girl," I said.

"She didn't see anything, I just left in a hurry, and she spotted some of the leftovers and asked someone what it was. Honestly, they need to be teaching that in school, that's something I'll always believe." 

"Unbelievable, unbelievable..." I muttered, pulling into the driveway of his house.

"No, what's unbelievable is Miss Hastings in a tight sweater," he said, laughing under his breath slightly despite himself.

It was beginning to feel like we were -- borderline -- friends, something we actually never were. This is the most like equals we have ever felt, and I could sense that his wall of hatred toward me was becoming that much thinner.

"Hey," I said, "Wanna get some ice cream or something?"

"I'm a 50-year-old man, but... yeah, actually." So I backed back out of the driveway and headed down the road.

(When we got there, he hemmed and hawed analytically over the flavors. The college-aged girl behind the counter said he was a cute kid, and I allowed that yeah, he was like a 50-year-old man in a kid's body. He got pralines n' cream and I got rocky road.)

Over waffle bowls, he asked, "So, you and this Christine woman...?"

"Let's just say you have a more active lovelife than I do."

"Oh, come on," he said, "I know there's something there."

"Maybe," I said, "But I wouldn't want to break a hip."

"Could be worth it," he shrugged.

A few quiet bites later, he said abruptly, "I don't want to go back."

I stared dead at him. "Excuse me?"

"I don't mean I want to stay as Cayden, I mean I don't want to go back to being John. Come on, Ryan-- or Marc, or whatever your name is -- you've been an old man for months now. I wasn't in my 70's, but my life felt like it was just about over. Now I've been reinvigorated. I don't want to be a kid anymore but I don't see how I can go back to being my old self."

"Hm," I leaned on my elbow.

"Hm what?"

"It's just interesting. You had a good life. Why not go back to it?"

He looked down into his ice cream. "I think you know the answer to that, or you wouldn't have brought me here in the first place."

I took a big sigh. "I guess I was hoping to inspire you, to go back to living your life... more truthfully. Or reconcile it somehow. Make necessary changes, or get it all out of your system. It definitely wasn't my intention that you never go back to being John."

"But that was always a possibility -- that was a risk you were willing to take... a liberty with my body, by the way."

"Yes," I nodded along, "John, when I took you to the Inn, I abdicated my sense of logic and I've regretted it ever since."

"No, it was smart," he said, his voice creaking. "You saw what was going on with me and you-- I mean hell, if I knew this place existed I would have run toward it years ago, consequences be damned. I think I just resent you making the choice for me, but from what I understand, informed consent is impossible with the Inn. Okay. I know I won't be Cayden forever... believe me, I'm glad of that, but I don't see how I can go back to being John."

"Give it time, okay?" I said. "We still owe Ed and Cayden their bodies back and as far as I'm concerned that means we go back to being Ryan and John."

"Well, why don't you be John? Stay as long as you like. It'll be nice to settle down. Despite what I said, I'm sure there's a few good years left there."

"Because Ryan still needs his body back too."

"And you don't trust me?"

"I'm cleaning up my own messes, John."

"He said to the mess..." John said, his eyes shifting. Then he actually smiled, as if he had gotten some resolution from the conversation.

We drove back to the house. I told him I couldn't control what he did with the knowledge that the Inn exists, but I admonished him to listen to his conscience. There are people who care about him and that he professes to care about.

"That didn't matter to you when you took me."

"Temporary insanity... and a calculated risk."

"Liberties again," he shrugged. "But you're not wrong, and I hate that. God, just imagining having this conversation with Ryan, no wonder he was irresistible. To John, that is. Cayden... I don't think goes that way."

"No, we have evidence," I chuckled.

We pulled up and I dropped him off and we sent "Cayden" to his room while I filled Pam in on the story (or at least, a tactfully edited version of it). She was moderately scandalized that her little boy was growing up so fast, "I mean, first I catch him reading Stephen King novels, and now this."

"Yeah," I laughed, "He's full of surprises."

I stayed for dinner. We pointedly did not discuss Christine. It was nice.

-Marc

Aidan/Emilia: Ladies Out Celebrating

I wasn't expecting the kids to come into the bar on Valentine's Day, although I'm not sure what else I expected them to be doing.  Neither has a boyfriend (or a girlfriend, I suppose, although they certainly seem to talk about how their bodies react to boys a lot more than how they react to girls); we've all collectively decided that would be a bad idea which was only underlined when we booked our return trip to the Inn in June after making sure that the folks living our lives would be there during the two-week block before us, and they've co-ordinated with the folks living their lives, whose forms have been in limbo since September.  It must be a nightmare to becomes yourself again if you get changed early in the summer!

I didn't quite know what to expect for business that night aside from that.  As I said before, it's kind of guy-coded and not exactly a date location, and on top of that, that weekend was kind of a sports dead zone:  Football over, baseball just starting spring training, the NHL and NBA both doing all-star breaks of sorts which didn't have much on tap for Friday night, and New York City generally has enough big-league action that the only people really watching college sports are alumni and those who also have a gambling app open on their phone.  Still, it was a big going-out night, we had some live music, and folks were looking to fill seats.  I'd expected to be waiting tables, but they've started to like me tending bar.  I'm friendly enough that guys hang around but I'm not one to play favorites or get interested enough to ignore the other customers, and i still jump a little when someone slaps my ass on the floor. 

I was kind of in the zone when Kutter and Rusty came in, found a couple empty seats, and ordered their first beers.  I made a comment about "Galentine's Day" and they asked if I'd just made it up - I think a couple girls their apparent age might have got it but they were about ten when Parks and Recreation ended and never wound up binging it - and they said they were celebrating "Monica's new job".

I must have looked pretty surprised, because Rusty had just been laid off a couple days before.  Her employers had said something about having to tighten their belts with the upcoming tariffs and congestion pricing, but Rusty said she hadn't been landing a lot of new accounts lately; they'd evidently found everywhere in the city that was interested in stocking Chinese energy drinks and expanding into Long Island or Connecticut had diminishing returns.  She'd seen it coming but thought Razzy or Chandra would be let go, but apparently it was last in, first out. 

I'd underestimated how good she was at that job, as it turns out; at some point in the last six months, she had knocked on the door of not just every bodega, but every small business that night have a refrigerator in their break room, including one of those language schools you see advertised on the subway.  She mentioned that she was being laid off during her last call, and they said they had an opening for someone to work the phones and also handle bookings for corporate clien.ts.  They already knew and liked her, and while they couldn't offer the commissions that the beverage company could, the base salary was about the same and she'd be eligible for free lessons.  There is really only time for one session between then and the return to the Inn, she figured she should at least come out of this knowing the Korean alphabet and how to say hello, please, and thank you.

It was kind of interesting observing them on a night out mostly without me - they weren't dressed as sexy as New Year's Eve, but showing a bit more cleavage and leg than when it was all three of us, but they weren't really teasing.  Their attention was mostly on each other, although they were polite when someone paid them a compliment or tried to but them a drink, saying they were just into hanging with their bestie tonight.  A couple made comments about them being more than friends, and Rusty started to respond to the first with something along the lines of "you have no idea" before Kutter kicked her in the shins and said not to encourage anybody.  Rusty got the message and said something along the lines of it being gross, and Kutter responded that it was obviously the case, but there was actually a phenomenon where siblings who had never met or who were separated long enough to not recognize each other were actually more attracted to each other than random people until they found out and society's incest taboos kicked in, and something like that could be at play with the three of us, although maybe in the opposite direction.  Rusty rolled his eyes and asked why Kutter would even be reading anything about that, and she said it was to make sure nothing like that happened.

I'm taking it as a sign of maturity that Rusty did not immediately start acting like Kutter was her girlfriend afterward.

Striking maturity, really, because Rusty's sixteenth birthday was just a couple weeks later, and we celebrated with go-karting and video games at a huge warehouse of a building just outside of Brooklyn, and while I'd been bracing myself for the kids to want to go in rompers or something, it was loose t-shirts, slacks that didn't shrink-wrap themselves to our butts, sneakers, ponytails sticking out the back of baseball caps.  There were bar areas, but we never went there all night.   It wasn't even a bit my idea, either - I asked Rusty what she wanted to do for her birthday, and that's what she said.  I didn't bring it up afterwards - I'll admit, I'm kind of worried that questioning it might make her think she should be even more all-in on being an adult woman until we go back, or being scared at just how well they can partition their lives - but it was really nice to feel like I was doing normal stuff with my teenage boys, even if the kart's seatbelt did find a way of digging into the valley between my breasts.

-Aidan/Emilia