Aidan/Emilia: "No daughter of mine..."

We'd planned a movie night on Friday - one of the local places doing some spooky stuff for Halloween - but Rusty sent a text about a last-minute thing with his co-workers on the subway, and raced into Monica's room to change as soon as he got back. I didn't think much of it until he was crossing the living area to leave and noticed that he was wearing more makeup than usual, and there were black stockings poking out from under his peacoat, nestled in spike heels.

"Hey, let me see what you're wearing."

He rolled his eyes as he turned around and undid the coat's belt, opening it up to show a blue Playboy Bunny costume that, if you ignored the hose, covered about as much as a one-piece swimsuit, only that likely wouldn't push his breasts up for deep cleavage.  "Can I go now?  Razzie and Chandra live closer to town and I don't want to keep them waiting."

I shook my head.  "Uh-uh.  Go find something else for this thing you didn't tell me was a Halloween party."

He seemed genuinely surprised at my reaction.  "What do you mean?  I'm sure I told you--"  He got out his phone and checked his outgoing messages.  "Huh, I guess I didn't."

"That's not the point and you know it."

"But I can't change, we decided on this when we realized we all had one but in different colors - heck, you might have one in your closet because there are pictures on Instagram from the girls' freshman year of them all wearing matching costumes--"

"Rusty.  Son.  You are a fifteen-year-old boy and I can't let you go out with your tail hanging out and breasts served up like an appetizers at a party where everyone will be drunk or high by the end of the night, especially when you consider that your friends do not know who you really are and that you've got no experience with all that!"

He sighed, like he thought I was the naive one.  "Dad, I ride the subway every day during rush-hour, and someone always decides to push his groin into my butt or cop a feel, and when I go out on sales calls, so many guys your age are trying to stare down my shirt!  I'm used to it!"

"Rusty, listen to me.  You are not used to what you're asking for at a party dressed like that.  You just aren't."

"'What I'm asking for?'  Is that what you're doing when you go grocery shopping showing more skin than this - asking for something?"

I sighed.  "I don't mean it that way.  We're not asking for it, but a lot of girls are, and a lot of guys think all girls are.  I'm not afraid to admit that scares me for all three of us, and I'm trying to face those fears."  I took a deep breath, knowing that arguing with a kid just gets them to dig in more.  "Look, you guys have more first-hand experience in how people treat pretty young women so far, I admit that.  But I have seen a lot more, okay?  I'm not talking out of my ass here.  Could you just wear something else and help with my peace of mind?"

He stared at me for a moment, and stomped back to Monica's room as much as you can in footwear like that, grumbling something about not knowing what the point of spending a year as a girl who looked like this was if you couldn't even dress sexy for Halloween.  He slammed the door behind him, of course.

Kutter had been quiet for the whole time, and pulled out his phone.  "Sooooo, I just want to say, we're having a Halloween party at work on Friday and I've already ordered this."  He pushed it toward my face so I could see the Amazon page.  "It's just Bride of Frankenstein, not, uh, Sexy Bride of Frankenstein."

I smiled.  "I think that's okay.  Unless there's a Frankenstein's Monster and it's a couples costume."

He stuck out his tongue.  "Ew, gross.  I mean, there might be, but it would be a total coincidence.  Like, even if there were, it would be crazy to start something that's just gonna end in May or June."  The pause got a bit awkward.  "But there's not.  Like, it wouldn't be a bad thing if I were attracted to guys, before or after all this, but, no, nothing's going to happen."  He paused again.  "I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

I chuckled, glad to do so.  "No, you're fine.  It's weird.  Just let me know if it gets weirder, okay?"

He nodded, and then Monica's door slammed open and Rusty started stomping across the room again, staring at his phone.'s screen where I could see the redhead, Razzy  "Sorry, I'm just leaving the apartment, and I'm not gonna match, because my roommate ruined it.  See you in twenty."  He hung up and spun around, opening his coat wide.  "So is this something you'd let a 15-year-old daughter wear?"

It was a cheerleader's uniform with white sneakers, probably from Monica's high school days, although the skirt had been hemmed so that he probably shouldn't bend over, the top had similarly been shortened to a crop top, and I was pretty sure he was wearing a padded bra underneath.  He'd left before I could raise those objections, slamming one last door.

I quickly put my shoes on and ran downstairs, but by the time I got to street level, I couldn't even guess which of two nearby subway stations he'd gone to.  I tried calling, and texting, but knew I wasn't going to get a response, and went back up to the apartment, dropping myself on the sofa beside Kutter, who said not to worry.  "If it makes you feel better, they do look out for each other.  Like, remember when you saw him at the street fair?"

I grumbled a little.  "I know they do, for now, but girls that age - your age - can get really catty and turn on each other.  I remember one of your mother's friends..."  I trailed off, remembering the whole story.  "Why is he like this?  You aren't!"

I could sense Kutter not wanting to answer, then heard him sigh.  "Dad, you do know that he was shorter than most of the girls in his class and got friend-zoned by the first couple he asked out, right?  And then one morning he wakes up a girl, but all grown up and looking really cute.  He really likes what he sees in the mirror the way he would if she were someone else, only he can dress her up and have her pose, like she's his own doll or something.  He... kinda does that a lot, way more than, uh..."  He seemed to realize what he'd be confessing but decided not to and cleared his throat.  "Trust me, he just likes hanging out with Chandra and Razzie and havnig two pretty girls treating him like one of the gang."

"Ugh."  He was probably right, though.  "Still..."

We both seemed to have no idea where to go next.  At some point Kutter broke the silence and asked if we were still going to the movie, and I said he could if he wanted, but I was going to wait up.  He nodded and said he'd stay out of trouble while I, ironically, got a couple beers from the fridge.

Emilia, it turns out, is kind of a lightweight, and I fell asleep in front of the TV, not hearing either of them get in until Rusty was closing Monica's bedroom door at a mere 12:15am.

I barely saw him during the weekend - there was an event to promote the energy drink at and he headed out for a couple of early runs that he didn't come back from for hours, until I'd gotten the hint.  Still, this morning he at least thanked me for the coffee I brewed for them before heading off to work, and looked a little embarrassed as he walked out the door and wished me good luck on today's interviews.

We'll probably be all right.

-Aidan/Emilia

Cary: The Home Stretch

Even though the birthday on Krystle's driver's license isn't for another couple of months, we had the usual party celebrating her real birthday last week, and I'm not going to lie, this period tends to mess us up a bit.  It's been especially confusing for her this year, because Jonah has been hitting milestones - her sister's wedding, getting engaged herself, buying a house - while Krys is still grinding her way through high school a second time, and the fact that it's not familiar is both exciting and confusing.

And part of the "confusing" part is on me.

When Elaine showed up as Mackenzie eight years ago, it felt temporary, even as I took her in and arranged for custody.  It took two years for her to get her own life back and for Krystle to become the new Mackenzie, looking 11 but actually 25, having grown up one way and then spent some time another.  Even though she had arranged to become Mackenzie deliberately, we don't live far away from the Inn and Krys can be impulsive.  I'm kind of shocked that she never decided to take a short-cut back to adulthood, especially back when she was a lot younger.  Given her previous history and the idea that she might not stick it out, we really didn't plan for college.

And here we are, visiting schools, trying to figure out which ones with dance majors will take a girl who was pretty good as a cheerleader and has some impressive TikToks but nothing really formal, so it's also hard to find scholarships.  It's also not likely that what she did before arriving at the Inn would impress admissions boards too much.  She tells me it's not my responsibility, and she'll just take out loans, but, well, it sounds like something she's really worked hard to make not sound like a guilt trip.  Or maybe I'm hoping it is.

Maybe it's not.  Maybe she'll get accepted into college, find an apartment, and never come back here.  We're heading into what seems like a year of lasts right now.  Last birthday together.  Last Halloween, and all the holidays coming up.

The thing that brings this up was that I couldn't get to sleep the other night - Krys laughs at my caffeine-free Diet Coke ("what even is the point of that?") but when I have a can of the regular stuff with supper I am off for the next day and a half - which meant I was still up and watching TV when her date dropped her off at 12:30am Saturday night.  As she was taking off her shoes in the mud room, she looked into the den at me.  "Are you waiting up for your daughter like a real dad?"

I snorted, and she walked in, not terribly shy about putting one foot up on the coffee table so she could give her foot a massage after an evening in three-inch heels despite her wearing a skirt.  "Why, should I?"

She shrugged.  "Hell if I know.  My dad was in jail when I was born and who knows where he wound up after that?  Probably no need with Clay, though.  He's a horny little nerd but nothing I can't handle."  She leaned back and laughed.

I tilted my head at her.  "You been drinking?"

She shook her head.  "Nah, just got into his Dad's edibles."  That made her giggle more.  "God, what a thing to say!"

"I suppose it is.  Good thing Elaine didn't want me going out with anyone even if I did stay as her long enough for it to seem appealing.  Can you imagine that?"

"You bet your ass I can!  You would have been nervous and sweet and made great conversation and then screeeeeeamed when he found your g-spot!"  She sighed.  "I kinda wish I could have had that.  Like, the first time I f---ed a girl as Jonah, I knew I was a guy at his sexual peak who knew what women liked and I was going to be the best lover this b---- who wasn't as hot as the real me had ever had.  Then, y'know, I held off for a while because I was surrounded by babies, but I figured that maybe Jimmy would be exciting, because he was my first as Mac and he was a big ol' football player, but nah.  It was just like riding a bike."

"You sound disappointed."

"I'm not.  Jimmy was fun and Clay's a nice kid and, like, I don't feel like I've been some kind of pedo with either of them, really, because I did kind of grow up with them, but I spent a lot of the last few years thinking I was getting a fresh start and maybe I've just taken the long way 'round to where I've been."  Satisfied that she'd done all she could with her feet, she turned ninety degrees and rested her head on my leg, her feet up on the sofa's arm.  "What do you think?"

I laid a hand on her belly.  "I think you apparently don't give yourself nearly as much credit when you're high as when you're not.  You get pretty good grades, you've got a bunch of friends - you never tell me about any old friends you miss - and you're making plans for the future.  Sounds like a new start to me."

She grunted.  "I dunno.  Maybe; I mean, you are the man I've had the longest relationship with in my life."  Then she started laughing.  "Oh my god, Cory, can you imagine my little girlfriends talking about this stuff with their dads and stepdads?  They'd die, just be like 'I'm dead'."

I helped her to her feet.  "You know what, let's get you to bed."

She laughed again.  "That is probably a really good idea!"

She skipped brushing her teeth or even wiping off her makeup and crawled into bed, sticking her hands out from under the covers to drop her top and skirt to the floor, then was asleep almost before she asked me if I could close the door.  I did, trying not to linger too long on the sight of her.

I've been thinking of that sight for the past few days.  She's really almost an adult on the outside again now, and from what I hear from the Dads and Moms I meet around town, girls the age she looks do their damnedest to not let people see them as vulnerable.  It may be the last time I see her like that.

I imagine it doesn't mean as much to me as it does to a real father, but I'll miss it.

-Cary

Dave/Chris: The Secret is out

As I mentioned before, we reopened the cafe on October 1. Because it opens for breakfast at 7am, and we were still not sure of ourselves, we arrived at 3am, to make sure we had ample time to prepare. We had been there a few times since we arrived, to learn most of it. We were both quite confident using the cash register and making coffee. We had set the tables and familiarized ourselves with where the stock was. Craig, the part time employee, was set to arrive at 6am to help out. All we needed to do now was wait for customers.

I was going to work in the kitchen to start with. I'm not a great cook, but cooking breakfast is mostly about eggs, bacon and toast. Even I can manage that. All things considered, we didn't do too badly. Craig was a big help, and must have wondered how his bosses forgot how to do basic things in the last month. We're getting the hang of though, and I'm sure we'll be fine within a few weeks.

The cafe opens at 7am every morning and closes at 2pm, 7 days a week. We only really need 2 people working every day. The weekends are a little busier, but can still be handled by just 2 people. Craig normally works on Friday and the weekends, which allows me and Shane to alternate between working 5 and 6 days a week. It's not difficult work, but we have to get up by 5am, to get to the cafe by 6:30am. We clean and do as much prep after we close, or we'd have to arrive even earlier. 

At first, Shane was even getting up much earlier, at around 4am, because he needed extra time for his hair and make-up. It wasn't like he was really styling himself, but even the basics took him a long time. He's quickly gotten better, though, so he's now getting up only around 10 minutes before me.

We asked Craig to come in for the whole of the first week, which he was happy to do after having no shifts for several weeks. I told him that we just needed him to get back into the groove of things after being closed for so long. It was a terrible reason, but he didn't say anything. This last week, we went back to the usual schedule. I think we can handle it.

Today after work, Shane brought something up that was very obvious, but I was hoping he would not notice, or ignore: "Why are all our customers gay?" "They're not all gay", I responded "and anyway, why does it make a difference? We're in San Francisco, and there are a lot more gay people than Indy." "No" he said "pretty much every customer is gay, or trans or something. Look at Craig, even he's gay, and I'm fairly certain that Cindy used to be a man. We...well Chris and Sylvia are a straight couple. Why would they have a gay cafe and so many gay friends? Can you explain it?" I just looked at him sheepishly. "You know why" he said "I can tell by the look on your face. Tell me."

So I did. I didn't have much of a choice really. I told him about how Sylvia is bisexual and how she was in a gay relationship with Chris, before Chris came out as trans. I told him about the scars and not having a penis, and weekly hormone injections. Once I finished, Shane got up and walked towards his room, without saying a word. When he got to the door, he turned around and said: "I'm not pissed with you because you don't have a cock. That's not your fault. But I've been 100% honest with you so far, and told you everything, and you kept this from me for weeks. Why?" I couldn't say why. He was right, so I just stammered an apology. He said "I need you to be completely honest and open about everything from now on. So....is there anything else I need to know?" I told him there wasn't.

The trouble is, that that's not true, and it's something that feels much bigger than this was....

Aidan/Emilia: Stay-at-home Mom (?)

The boys and I had another mysterious wire transfer appear in the "Emilia", "Katey", and "Monica" checking accounts, although they're about 25% less than last month, and we don't quite know what to make of that - are the girls reading the blog and seeing that the boys have jobs and thus don't need to be supported quite so much?  Are their new lives maybe not quite so flush as they thought?  Are they thinking that the man twice their age will grow dependent if they don't wean me off their charity?

I'm still interviewing, and some things are looking promising, but the pattern we've settled into over the past couple of weeks is starting to make a little sense:  I get up and just sort of putter around for a bit as Kutter and Rusty look to beat each other to the shower, get dressed, help each other with make-up, and then wave good-bye as they head for the subway, Kutter heading in to Manhattan and Rusty to the beverage company's office in Queens, although he may or not be staying there; they've got this motor-scooter thing he uses to visit shops and even make deliveries and is often only in the office for a half hour or so at a time.

(Aside: There is something weirdly encouraging about how the boys have watched a bunch of YouTube makeup tutorials and can use the tools but don't entirely trust the results yet and kind of need each other to say they whether look natural or not.)

(Aside Number Two: Since Rusty only has a learner's permit - I don't think new-Rusty has taken her/his driver's test yet - I kind of figured it worked out well that we wound up in New York, rather than someplace my apparently-adult son would have to drive everywhere, and while he's probably better at public transportation than either Kutter or I, now he's got to be responsible for a vehicle and I don't know whether it being this or a car would be better.)

Once they're gone, I can start my day, and I can't say it's really a routine yet, but it's becoming one.  Anyway, I take a shower and then spend a few minutes just looking at myself naked in the mirror after that and try to gauge my reaction,  I haven't talked about it much besides when the boys comment on it and it seems relevant, because it seems like a stupid thing to complain about, but I have become conventionally attractive:  Natural blonde hair that started out chin-length and is now either due for a cut or growing out, blue eyes, a few freckles on either side of a pug nose (used to have a Roman), soft but not really puffy lips.  Nice neck.  Perky D-cup breasts that don't really look that big because I'm almost 5'9", a waist that isn't skinny but which lets my hips flare a bit, nice legs.  I wouldn't say I've got something over my sons here, but it's kind of good to set in my head that this is how people see me, and if there's anything I should be paying attention to.

I lay what I'm going to wear for the day out but just throw on a bra and panties before clinching my bathrobe around my belly for housework.  There's not a whole lot to do, especially if I don't go into Rusty's room, but long hair can clog up a sink real fast if you don't pay attention, we all shaved our legs that morning, and the boys made a bit of a mess in the living room while gaming the night before.  There's dishes stacked up in the sink from last night and this morning.  The hamper's not quite full enough for laundry today.

Then I get dressed.  I'm trying to get myself used to mostly feminine clothes these days, both out of sympathy to the boys and just as practice.  No interviews (in person or virtual) today, so I'm trying to push myself a bit, with a pink turtleneck that really hugs my breasts, tight jeans, and boots that go up to the middle of my shins on top of a three-inch wedge heel.  I feel like this should look good, but I feel sort of ridiculous, and I must look very silly trying to walk in those things, even if Rusty said I'm doing better.

I go shopping anyway.  Part of living in the city and not having a car is that getting groceries is about getting what you need and can carry whenever the opportunity presents itself as opposed to stocking up for the next couple weeks, even if you're going to a supermarket.  For me, it's also about doing ordinary things as Emilia, getting used to interacting with young women as peers and folks I'm instinctively seeing as peers as something else.  A lot of guys my age, let alone younger, are staring at my breasts and following my butt as I walk by, and I'm trying to build up some armor about it getting to me the way someone Emilia's age probably has already and not being confused by it.  I still tend to see people staring at me and wonder if I've got barbecue sauce on my shirt, looking down, and thinking, no, just boobs.  I also kind of wonder of, when interviewing, I come off as too familiar to hiring managers, or even talking down to folks in their thirties. 

Then I come home and bake. Because flour is cheaper than bread, it makes the apartment smell great, and it fills time.  Most recipes are pretty easy, and kneading is something you do with your hands, and it means there's a little pride when the bread or cookies come out of the oven.  I might even get a sourdough starter going off this goes on much longer, which I guess is a thing twenty-something girls in Brooklyn do.  If they haven't texted to say they'll be late, I'll start cooking dinner. 

The funny thing about this routine is that a lot of this is not new to me, but we've had chore boards to divide all this up since the boys were ten or so; even during Covid, I didn't really have the luxury of being a stay-at-home dad.  We couldn't really afford a maid or anything, so the boys pitched in. I kind of figured we'd have to make more effort to get stuff done as their extracurriculars picked up.  Me handling the housework and waiting for them to get home and tell me about their days at work is very weird. 

I cannot wait to get a job of my own so things get a little more back to normal and I can put Emilia practice on the back burner. 

-Aidan/Emilia

Daryl/Zee: First Thursday Club

As I mentioned last time, one of the reasons I decided to settle in Boston is that there's Inn people there, but it hasn't really been an official support system until, I guess, fairly recently, when one of the local folks decided that she owned a bar and might as well get folks together there.  Invitations got sent out and, after work, I headed the other direction up the Red Line and then took a buss from the end of the line a little way up Massachusetts Avenue and found "The Changeling".

Props on the clever name - it is, at heart, an Irish pub, even if the Irish lady who runs it used to be a Texan (and thus puts unusually good barbecue on the menu) and is thus sort of like those creatures placed in other people's lives.  Is that too much explaining the joke?

So, I walked in a little nervously and saw it was a bit busy, what with it being happy hour and all.  But then, it's just a bar, so I walked up to the counter and asked the bartender if she knew anything about "First Thursday Changelings' Club".

She was actually Irish, and said I'd be wantin' t' go t' the far booth, pointing me at one in a back corner, near a foosball table but no windows.  One person was already sitting there - a woman of about 40 or so, who leapt up when she saw me.  "Hi, I'm Ashlyn!  Welcome to my bar.  You must be...  Za-rye-uh?"

"Za-ree-ya.  Call me 'Zee'.  You look great!"  I looked her up and down a little, not sure what I'd expected, other than it wasn't quite this.  As someone who had a number of older female friends as Magda, I've known a few who having not just been very attractive in their youth, but who traded off that, are either blithely unaware of how time has worked on them or who have been maniacal in maintaining it to the extent that they can and won't let you miss it.  Ashlyn, it seemed, was in the second category, wearing a green dress with a plunging neckline that showed she still had an impressive rack, although it was maybe a little tighter than intended in some other spots.  Her hair is bright red, and she's got strong-looking arms and legs as well as a face that ha a few more lines but great cheekbones.

"Thank you.  40 can hit hard and I'm not going down without a fight!"  We laughed, and then we started talking.  She asked if I was a Celtics fan yet, and I told her that I'd manage to cling to the Bulls despite not having been in Chicago for a while, and she expressed her sympathy but also her respect, because she'd given in little by little over the years, especially once she opened the bar.

We talked a lot of sports, and, god, I missed that; the ex's friends weren't really sports people, none of my female friends have been, and even the best of guy friends tend to get weird when a lady likes sports.  I mean, I did the same thing back in the day, because it's like a signal that you're extra-compatible or something at best and a threat to the ego at worst.

We'd gone on about basketball for a while when a blonde lady about Ashlyn's age came in and he beckoned her over.  "Zee, Penny; Penny, Zee.  We shook hands like it was some secret 'we're actually guys and don't hug' signal, although Ashlyn was a hugger where this old friend was concerned.  "So, how's the new job?"

Penny grunted.  "It's a lot.  I mean, it used to be enough to be married to a lawyer while writing a couple books a year, but Ray's practice is just getting off the ground and Millie is just good enough to need expensive coaches, so now I'm dealing with a classroom full of twenty Millies twice a day, and this is just part time!"  She turned and gave me a wry grin.  "Don't get me wrong, being a mother and a teacher is very rewarding, but sometimes I wish I could have passed my daughter bookish Arthur Milligan DNA as opposed to how athletic and competitive the original Penelope Lincoln was!"

That kind of bowled me over.  "Geez, I hadn't thought of that."

"It's weird!  It's not like I ever look at Millie and feel like she's not my kid or love her any less, but if every parent looks at their kids and wonders where that comes from, at least they have some idea!  I keep getting blindsided by the parts of her that aren't clearly Ray."

I nodded, and then she pointed at the guy who was walking from the bar.  "Now, Ande - Ande isn't going to have to worry about that, since he'll be using his twin's DNA!"

Ande started to back off but Ashlyn grabbed his arm.  "Don't mind her, she doesn't mean you're going to be having kids any time soon.  Now, c'mon, how do you know Penny?"

"I don't know her, I just, uh, sort of asked for something weird at a book signing."

"Not that weird - I get one or two Inn folks who want that to be part of their autographs a year.  Usually on the Pygmalion books, even though I haven't done one of those in five years, although some of the Wandering Inn ones attract the same audience.  Not that Ashlyn pays attention to anything but the mysteries."

A few other folks showed up who don't contribute to the blog and said to respect their privacy.  We stayed well past happy hour, and by the time things were about to break up at around ten, one gave a big, exaggerated, maybe somewhat tipsy sigh.  "Well, Zee, it looks like you got lucky and Lenny's not going to show up."

Penny turned to Ashlyn.  "Wait, you invited Lenny?"

"What?  I couldn't not invite him!"

Penny harrumphed.  "Agree to disagree."

I noticed a bunch of folks were kind of trying not to look at me.  "Who's Lenny?"

The lady who brought him up took me by the hand.  "Lenny spent, like, eight weeks as a woman five years or so ago, and ever since, he's hit on everyone who returned from the Inn a moderately attractive woman, saying that we should stick together so that we can share everything about our lives."

A few other folks jumped in.  "Which isn't entirely wrong."  "But he's such a weirdo about it!"  "I don't know how he even finds out."  "Learned what a girl likes, though."  "And that dick--"

The first woman slapped the table.  "Hey, stop making him sound good!  Fucker cheated on me with that stewardess for two months!"  She pointed at me.  "I'm just saying, you are totally his type - he really likes girls who used to be guys, and black girls besides.  He acts like he really knows what you go through, and talks a good game, but he's a fucking dog."

I was a bit taken aback.  "Well, I'm not looking to get back into another relationship right now."

Penny punched my shoulder.  "You say that now, but c'mon, you're a romantic like me, and guys like Lenny have a real appeal to gals like us.  I mean, if I hadn't already been married when he set his sights on me..."  She shook her head to clear it.  "Welp, that's enough sharing for tonight!  Anyone heading to Camberville and want to split a cab?"

A couple folks raised their hands, and the party split up after that.  At that relatively late hour, it took me over an hour to get home, and the walk at the end got my blood flowing just enough that I couldn't sleep now it's too late to try.

Good thing it's no-meetings Friday!

-Zee

Marc/Ed: Hail Caesar

One thing I have learned about the life I have found myself in is that I have to b fairly wary of Ed's daughter Pam. I have caught her looking sideways at me a few times since I've been here, but it's not necessarily because she believes her father has been replaced by a stranger. Rather it's clear that she believes she is dealing with the same man she has always known and that he is as frustrating as ever.

This is a woman in her 40's who is clearly in the "now I have to parent my parent" part of her life, checking in relatively consistently by phone. If this old bar phone rings and Pam's number comes up, I had better answer or I won't hear the end of it.

It appears that Ed has been a widower for a number of years with his wife dying -- I won't say young but perhaps sooner than expected, if that makes sense. I think most old guys expect to go first and the sense that I get is that nobody was prepared for old Ed to be on his own.

She seems like a perfectly lovely woman, other than the combative relationship I have found myself in with her. There's actually something kind of comforting about having someone be so concerned about you, even if the tone is a little pushy. The dynamic of a small Mainer family is a little closer to home for me than the sprawling and hyper-involved version I saw when I was one of the "Carey Girls" (although I eventually became accustomed to that... lost stories from my time between blogs.)

As I mentioned, when I returned dramatically late with her son, Pam gave me considerable grief, but somehow it did not seem utterly out of character that Ed would go off on his own like that, which was a silver lining, as Pam's wrath was more confined to irritation that her father acted, if anything, extremely in character.

The next time I heard from her, it was to nudge me about another dangling thread. "So did you go get Caesar yet?"

Caesar?

"Um, the dog?" she sneered at me, in her default tone of exasperation, "Jeezum crowbah dad, he's been at the kennel for over a month, you've got to go get him!"

I was really surprised. Ed's message hadn't mentioned anything about a dog. In fact, it hadn't mentioned much about much. I hunted around to try to figure out how to find this dog, eventually getting the number of the kennel, where they gave me a somewhat surprising answer: the dog had already been picked up by my son Danny.

Ed doesn't have a son Danny -- that would be one of the new identities Ed and Cayden took on. That made a lot of sense, that Ed would go pick up the dog but it somewhat complicated things. I couldn't very well explain to Pam why I didn't have the dog but that it was OK.

I ended up taking a long drive down to Springfield, Mass, to the address that Ed had declined to give me where he and Cayden could be found in their new lives. It was a little apartment building. As I approached, I thought how insane it was that I was imposing on these people, who had not made it easy for me to find them, but I felt like I at least needed to hash this out in person.

After a deep cleansing breath, I knocked on the door. A young man with short cropped and receding hair answered, dressed in shabby pajamas and toting a video game controller. He took one look at me then turned away to call out to someone else in the room.

"Gramps, it's you!"

Cayden stepped aside and a woman stepped into the doorway, a young Indian woman wearing a loose-fitting plaid overshirt and boot-cut jeans. Her sleeves were rolled up and it looked like she had just been doing dishes. From what I could tell she had an ungainly stride that -- if you knew what you were looking at -- gave away that she was a 70-something-year-old man in a young woman's body, along with her flat, unwashed hair and lack of makeup.

He looked at me under a furrowed brow, tilting his head back to look up at me. "What brings you around?"

Before I could answer, a black furred German Shepherd-Border Collie type of dog padded to the door and approached me enthusiastically.

"Well, he does, actually," I said, petting Caesar who seemed very pleased to see his "owner."

Ed -- aka Parveen -- looked at me quizzically. "What do you want with Caesar?"

"Well, he's..." I stammered, "He's not mine, but..." I was at a loss how to explain that, for appearances, it was somewhat expected that I keep the dog.

"Yain't takin' him," he said firmly in a voice that definitely sounded as much like a grandpa as a 20-something-year-old Indian woman's throat could produce. He then pushed the dog back into the apartment -- as it whined for me -- and stepped outside with me, closing the door and standing with his arms folded under his chest. "That's the end of it. You tell Pammy that he's got a good home and he's safe and you'll get another dog if it makes her happy. Now if you don't mind, I'd just as soon you don't come back unless there's an emergency. It's confusin' him and besides, I don't much like being seen this way. Drive safe."

And abruptly, that was it. Puzzled, I went on my way. Rather than face the 3.5-hour drive back, as the trip had seriously worn out my old bones, I stayed the night in a motel (secretly hoping I would stumble into yet another cursed inn and get a fresh set of problems) and drove back in the morning, waking up at 5 AM or so.

I got back and explained to Pam what Ed had told me to say -- I had given Caesar away to a nice young couple. Pam was borderline apoplectic, giving me another round of "Jeezums" and wondering how I could do such a thing.

I came to realize that Caesar is, in an informal sense, a therapy dog, who Pam got for her dad to help him after his wife died. I think Pam thinks that he never warmed to the dog and resented having it, stubbornly wanting to go through his grief alone, but I can tell from his insistence on keeping it that that is not the case. For whatever reason Ed seems to have never let on exactly how important the dog is. Knowing that, I actually have no business keeping him but of course from Pam's perspective me losing him or giving him away is both unthinkable and very characteristically selfish. It put us in a really weird situation but at the same time, Ed seems to have been a really weird guy prone to making these command decisions that don't quite make sense to others, so I think it the long run a very irritated Pam has let me off the hook as just another quirk of her father's.

Being an Inn person isn't always as simple as rolling out of bed and into a blank slate you get to define how you want. No matter who you become, you really do get stuck in these entanglements that you have no control over.

Aidan/Emilia: "Son, I'm proud of you"

An few hours ago, Kutter got a call at the same moment that I got a text, and while I was sighing at yet another interview that came to nothing, Kutter's face was lighting up.  "Really?  That's amazing!  I can't wait to start!"

Obviously, it didn't take long to figure out what was going on - the place that interviewed both "Katey" and "Emilia" last week had decided to go with someone who hadn't graduated high school over someone who actually had some relevant experience.  Not that they could really know this, of course - the real Katey and Emilia had both graduated with BAs in Literature (English for Emilia, American for Katey) and similar GPAs, so everything outside the interview probably would have been roughly even.  Which means Kutter made the better impression.

As soon as he hung up the phone, he said he'd gotten the office assistant job at the publisher, then started texting Rusty before the fact that this was the one where we'd interviewed back-to-back clicked.  "Wait a minute - how did I--?"

I hopefully wiped any look of disappointment or confusion off my face quickly, and put a hand on his shoulder.  "You must have given them what they were looking for.  More than I did."

He shrugged.  "Don't know what that could be."  Before he could elaborate, his phone rang and I could hear Rusy shouting "Woot-woot, good job Katey!" from my end.  Kutter smiled and half turned away.  "Thanks, 'Monica'!  It's crazy!"  You can definitely hear the quotes when Kutter uses our female names.

I smiled and walked into Emilia's room, then flopped backwards onto the bed, giving a rueful chuckle as I felt my breasts bounce a little.  I don't know why that struck me funny in the moment - maybe I mentally expected to just splat, or something, but my body felt weirdly resilient, or I was thinking that this was what I felt was holding me back, when the boys had to deal with more and were seemingly managing.

It was mid-afternoon and I'm not sure how long I lay there looking at the ceiling, but eventually Kutter poked his head on through the door I hadn't closed.  "Hey, I'm going to meet Rusty to shop for some work clothes.  Do you...?"

As much as I've been noticing that the boys often tend to operate as a pair even though we're all in the same situation, I didn't feel up to it.  "Nah, I don't see how I'd be of much help.  You guys seem to know what you're doing."

"Okay."  He stepped away from the door then stepped back in.  "You're sure you're not mad at me?"

I sat back up.  "Son, I'm not mad at you.  I'm proud of you both.  You've made the best of a tough situation, maybe better than I have.  You two go have fun while I regroup."

He gave a wry smile.  "Yeah, shopping for skirts and blouses is 'fun'."

I shrugged.  "Hey, women seem to like it.  Maybe we've been missing out!"  We both laughed at that.  "Go on, I won't just sit here and mope.  Just text and tell me whether you're going to be home for dinner or not."

He nodded, and then stepped in to give me a hug, which is awkward given how our bodies are shaped now, but okay.  "We couldn't do this without you and I'm really glad you trust us."  Then he blushed, said bye, and walked out.

Did I stay home and mope?  A little.  But I really am proud of them.

-Aidan/Emilia

Dave/Chris: Make-up makes the (wo)man

Shane is not a computer person. He isn't stupid, he just doesn't care about computers, so he never uses them and so doesn't understand how useful they can be. He was the last person I know to start using email around 10 years ago - reluctantly, when he needed it for his business, and only in the last few years started using messaging apps. Aside from that, he never uses computers. He bought his first smart phone during the covid lockdown, but he still only really uses it for making phone calls. He is the only person that I still have to phone, if I want to contact him. 

I'm also fairly certain that he never watched the video that Sylvia made for him. It's almost inconceivable that she wouldn't mention that Chris was originally a woman and had a sex change. I wasn't going to call him out on it though. I still haven't told him about not having a penis. I don't know when or how I'm going to tell him, and I wished I had told him at the start, because the longer it takes, the harder it seems to be to say something. If I tell him now, he's not going to be happy that I kept this from him.

I mentioned that Shane was going to try to embrace his femininity in my last post, and that includes learning to do make-up and hair. He tried to do it himself, from photos, which was spectacularly unsuccessful. The next day, he went out by himself in the morning. He came home several hours later. His face had been expertly made up and his hair looked great. He also had longer, red nails, and even though he was still wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, he looked beautiful.

I asked him where he'd been, and he told me he went to a department store and asked them to help him in the make up department, and then he went to a hairdresser, who styled his hair. Finally, he'd also gotten a manicure. He had a bag with him and pulled out 5 or 6 fashion magazines and dropped them on the coffee table and proclaimed: "I'm going to try to get this right."

He wanted to go out again, this time for dinner, because in his words "it would be a waste if I didn't go out looking like this", so he went to his room and put on a red dress. This one was a little more daring, in that it showed a little cleavage and a little more leg. He looked good before, but now he was really hot. I put on a nice shirt and trousers, and we went out for dinner at a somewhat fancy Italian restaurant. 

I can't deny that it felt great to have someone looking that good accompanying me. He's slowly becoming more feminine in his actions, and definitely looking less unsure of himself. The fidgeting and uncomfortable shifting has mostly stopped and it's sometimes hard to think of the woman in front of me as being the person that I grew up with and go fishing with. When we got home and I went to the bathroom before going to bed, my pussy was actually a little wet. I don't want to think about what that means.

I haven't really talked much about my pussy. I don't like to look at it or touch it, but whenever I'm in the shower and particularly when I have to sit on the toilet to pee, I can't ignore it. I have had a closer look out of curiosity, and it looks quite normal - for a woman, except that my clitoris is bigger than any I've seen on a woman before. I've googled about all sorts of trans related stuff recently to find out more, and it seems that testosterone makes the clitoris grow. It almost looks like a small penis, and it feels a bit like it when I touch it. But of course, it's not the same. I can't urinate through it, it's still a lot smaller than a penis, and there's an opening I never had before, right under it. The whole area looks and feels wrong. It's hard to explain, but it feels like it shouldn't be a part of me, and I think about that almost all the time. 

Chris has these prosthetics that I found. I wasn't sure what they were at first, but you stick them into your underpants and it makes it look like you have a package down there. I've been using them, because they make me feel more confident somehow. I've asked Shane about how he feels about his pussy, and whether he misses his penis. He shrugged and told me that he wants it back, but he's not missing it as much as he thought he would. 

Of course, he has tits as well. They look like a fairly average size. When I asked about them, he said that he often even forgets that they're there. I'm glad Chris had his removed, because I don't think I could have coped with them, and I certainly can't imagine I would forget that they're there. I saw some old photos on his phone from before he had them removed and they were larger than Shane's. I've also made sure to keep up the testosterone. I've injected myself a few times now. I'm not used to doing it, and I don't like needles, but it's better than having periods.

The next day, Shane was in his room all morning. Every once in a while I heard loud cussing coming from the room. Eventually he came out, with clownish make-up on his face. His hair looked all messed up too. "What's the matter?", I asked. "How fucking hard can it be to put on make-up and curl hair? The women yesterday showed me what she was doing and I'm trying to recreate it, but it isn't working. I tried the curling iron and the more I use it, the worse it looks." I couldn't help but laugh "Did you know anything about make-up and hair when you walked in there yesterday?" "Of course I didn't" he grunted. "That's why I went". I told him "Every other woman that goes in there has at least some basic knowledge. You can't expect to learn it all like that in one go." "Well I can't go there every day until I learn it properly", he said. "Have you checked out YouTube?" I asked. "There are tutorials on everything there. I'm sure you can learn from there." 

He obviously hadn't checked it out, so I showed him how to use it, and how to search for relevant videos. He went back to his room to watch them and tried again. I only got called in twice when he had problems. The first time, he accidentally closed the browser window, and the second time he pressed the mute button. Yes....he really is that bad with computers.

When he came out after a couple of hours, he looked a lot better. His hair was in place, and he had cut down on the amount of make-up he had tried. It wasn't perfect, but definitely acceptable.

Tomorrow, the cafe opens again. I'm nervous about it, but it hasn't been all make-up and fashion at home. We've also tried to prepare for this as well as we can. We've learnt the processes and ordered from the suppliers and we're as ready as we ever will be.

Let's see how things go.

Paul/Kim: Hurrying Back

 We still had a few days left on our reservations but Kim had had just about enough of the Trading Post and insisted we needed to hit the road back to their home. A combination of fear and guilt from accidentally being in her body had me inclined to go along with pretty much anything she says.

One thing I toyed with was the idea of not writing a letter, since I'd end up back as myself. However seeing the chaos that came upon someone as visibly organized as Kim I figured just in case. I wrote 2 letters.

The first letter was the just-in-case customary "Here's what to do if you get my life" letter that all visitors leave to the next occupant (Which Kim never left for me, thinking she'd get her body back). The second letter was actually an email, to my Mom back in Virginia. It basically lied and said that Acadia was so hard up for help that they offered me an extended winter live in position that required I start immediately and probably wouldn't make it home for the holidays. I teared up a bit writing it. I actually don't think I've cried since like junior high over something like that. I know I'll see my family again, but it is still pretty terrifying.

 Once the letters were done and my luggage was packed I grabbed the suitcases that belonged to Kim from their room and started rolling them out to where she and Maya were waiting by their SUV, talking. I couldn't hear what they were saying but it was a lot of Kim looking up at Maya and saying a lot while Maya just nodded along. 

When I got nearer Maya offered to lift the luggage into the back. I think she was just looking to show off how strong she was as Brent, the guy she was now. Maya has actually been the most stable person I've seen in all the chaos that is this place. Her mother was angry about missing out on getting her life back. I'm terrified being the one to get it. Maya on the other hand seems pretty aloof and open minded. Maybe having spent a year as someone else once makes the second time easier, even if it is as a member of the opposite sex (which is VERY off putting, in my opinion). I think she's just content to do her best and come back next year.

"I'll do the driving" Kim said "Go ahead and get in the passenger seat I'll be there in a minute"

She's very direct and normally I dont like being ordered around, but I find myself doing whatever she says. Maybe it's guilt from winding up in her body, or maybe I trust her because she knows about this crazy cursed hotel. Either way being led makes adapting to all this better.

As I sat in the car and buckled in trying not to think about the seatbelt splitting my new boobs, I looked back and saw Kim and Maya talking again, now holding hands. Kim had tears in her eyes saying goodbye and they hugged before she climbed in and started the car.

"Do you need a minute?" I asked 

"I need all of this to be over" She said with a sigh before putting the car in gear.

The Scotts live in Irondeqouit, New York, which is a suburb of Rochester near Lake Ontario. It's about a 7 hour drive through a part of the country which is just beautiful in the autumn. As someone with a forestry degree I've always appreciated nature and looking out the window was helpful in taking my mind off of everything. 

I did also try to engage Kim more in hopes of getting to know the person whose face I was wearing better, but most of them were met with short frustrated answers.

"So like, what's your job?" I asked when it dawned on me I'd have to be Kim to the rest of the world

"MY job is a lecturer at a University" She said annoyed "But since the numbskull who was in my body the past year knew nothing about math I'm on sabbatical until it looks like another year. YOUR job is going to be part time at Target because that's all she could land"

I laughed out loud at that. 

"What?" She demanded

"I worked at Target for my last 2 years of college." I said shaking my head "It's come full circle"

After about three and a half hours of mostly silence we stopped for gas. She reached in the back and handed me a purse "They don't have to pay at the pump so you're going to have to do it, use the Discover card"

I swallowed and took a deep breath. This was it. I had to pretend to be someone else for the first time. We got out of the car and the same hip pain I had woken up with had returned with a vengeance with every step I made. Kim took notice.

"Yeah I've got bad cartilage there, it's going to hurt like hell if you sit wrong for a period of time. Keep your legs level and feet on the floor the rest of the way"

I took notice and walked into the gas station. The lady at the counter seemed disinterested as I fumbled around in the purse and handed her a credit card that wasn't mine. She swiped it and Kim went out to pump the gas while I went to the bathroom.

I had "gone" back in Maine so the weirdness of sitting and having different organs for the first time had passed, but it was still awkward. In fact it was downright panic inducing having to do it in public. I went into the women's bathroom and my heart started racing when I saw two women in there chatting in front of the mirror about their trip. One looked at me and went back to touching up her makeup but that was enough to make me freak out. I felt like an imposter even in the stall and had my eyes closed as nature took it's course. After washing my hands for probably less time than I should have I exited and saw Kim there waiting outside. She must've sensed my nerves because her face changed from the irritated look she's had since that morning into one with compassion.

"Doing alright, Mom?" She asked putting hand on my shoulder. That was enough to make things better, to know I'm not alone

"Yeah" I said "I'm ready to hit the road again.

We drove on in silence for another 20 miles before she spoke up.

"I know it's not your fault" She began "Believe me it was weird for me when I first woke up as someone else and I stayed female and the same age. I can't imagine how weird it is to go from a young guy to....me"

"It's no so bad..." I begin, trying to diffuse the tension 

"You're being nice" She says "But being 17 again made me realize how much soreness and sagging and upkeep is needed on a daily basis. Gradually coming into it over the years is one thing, you got it overnight and gender change to boot, which according to like 90 percent of that blog is a real obstacle"

It was that comment that led me to make an effort to document my time as her on this blog

"But I'll help you through it" she continued "In a way you're lucking to have me to answer any question and point out anything you need to be doing or stop doing"

She opened up for the rest of the car ride and we talked about her home life, her husband and son, her relationship with Maya, her time in Arkansas, and by the time we pulled into the driveway I felt like I'd been there before.

 The house was nice. Fairly new and well maintained and pretty clean on the inside. Kim's husband, James, was some sort of VP at a company in Rochester. He and their son Jamie (James Jr.) were at Cedar point in Ohio due to the fact that Kim and Maya had taken a "girls trip" for the second year in a row. They weren't due back until tomorrow so that gave us some time to unwind after the trip.

"Follow me" Kim said heading upstairs "You need a shower"

 The master bathroom was spacious with a double vanity and large rain shower with glass walls that had no privacy. Kim followed me into the bathroom and could sense my unease

"Look, it's nothing I haven't seen before thousands of times and you're going to get used to my body too. Plus there's bodywash, shampoo, conditioner, facewash, and lotion to deal with so I'm going to be arond to help"

 "All that for a shower?" I wondered out loud

 "You're lucking we aren't shaving today"

 I undressed and turned on the hot water and the feeling of it on my skin may have been one of the most relaxing sensations I've ever felt. Like all the stress and soreness of the day was melting away in the steam.

 The bathroom was set up in such a way that there were large mirrors on three walls so looking in them I could see myself naked from every angle as I washed. At first I just looked down and focused on washing but my eyes wandered eventually. Kim's body wasn't fat by any means, but curves and cellulite were going to take some getting used to.

I don't know how long I showered for but I stopped when Kim came in, hair wet from having showered in the other bathroom, holding some clean clothes. I turned off the water and began drying myself off, feeling just how heavy long hair was when it was wet. Kim was looking at me with a curious eye.

"Hold on" Kim said, her annoyed tone returning. She reached under the vanity cupboard and pulled out a scale "Step on this really quick"

The scale blinked a few times and brought up a number that made me too self conscious to share

"Goddamnit Clara" She cursed invoking the name of the woman who was in this body before me "Gained 15 pounds last year! My ass looks huge!"

"15 pounds isn't too bad" I offered

"For a man, no" She said putting the scale away "With that metabolism it isn't a months long process"

She handed me a pair of panties that admittedly felt a little tight, although compared to boxers they're extremely tight. She then handed me a tank top looking thing that I've since learned is called a "Cami" that covered things but my big nipples poked right through

"That's fine for bed" She said "The boys get home tomorrow afternoon so we have a lot to go over before we get to that"

She helped me brush my hair and left me alone in the big bedroom with my thoughts. Despite all the weirdness I was out like a light in the big comfortable bed.

That was the beginning of the week and a lot has happened since and I have a lot to juggle pretending to be a mom and wife, so I'll have to write more later

-Paul

Jonah/Krystle: We Bought A House

And by "we", I mostly mean "Gabe" because he's got a lot more savings and a better credit history than I do, even if you don't make a lot of assumptions about what the original Krystle was doing in her life.  All the paperwork is in his name, and I'm more or less cool with that, even if I probably should be more paranoid about my whole life being upended instantly.

We got a pretty decent deal in a good location - Moira isn't going to have to change school districts and can still see her friends without a whole lot of effort.  Between what the two of us make, it's surprisingly affordable, although I do kind of worry that this is in part because we're in New Orleans and can wind up literally underwater at any time.  I wasn't really old enough for Hurricane Katrina to really register with me, but both my parents and Momma Kamen asked me if it really makes sense to buy property in the Delta.  Maybe it's not, but, somehow, this has become my place, and our place, and I don't want to leave it.

Of course, moving in has been another reminder of how the Inn has left me, even after nine years, a little afraid to settle in:  My apartment had enough furniture and other stuff that we had to use a bigger moving van this time, but the amount that's Moira's dwarfs the amount that's mine.  Yeah, Gabe and I and other people spoil her, but I never bought much of a sofa for the living room or much more than the minimum for the kitchen, and the bed I bought two years ago went on Facebook Marketplace.  I'm sure my lady friends have noticed that I cycle through my nice outfits a lot faster than they do on girls' nights.  They believe me when I say I've been poor (which isn't really a lie), but there's still some "you could be someone else tomorrow" in there.

And then, once Moira and I got our stuff in, Gabe arrived with his van, which was packed, even though I kind of gather that his apartment in New York was actually smaller than ours:  Bigger TV, a sofa and a recliner, sports memorabilia, a record player and a bunch of vinyl...  More to show for being 30-ish than I do, for sure!

(For those keeping track, my driver's license says I'm 31 and I've lived 25 years; I've gotten used to saying the former when asked my age but it still feels like lying, more than writing "Krystle Kamen" for my name and marking "female" for my sex does!)

The house isn't big, but it's got a kitchen, living room, and dining area downstairs; three bedrooms upstairs, and an attic that could probably be converted to some other use.  We set up one bedroom to use as Gabe's home office, since he'd be working remotely now, before starting on the master bedroom.  We put the new king-sized bed together and filled closets and bureaus, and then stood back to look at our handiwork.  He beamed, but I was like, "huh!"

Not the expression he was expecting.  "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just kind of hitting me that we're basically married now.  This is a shared space, we're splitting the bills, no place to retreat to if we get upset.  It's different than sharing a room in a cramped apartment with Moira or Karla.  Like, next year isn't when things change, but just when we throw a party and sign some papers.  This is the actual day."

"Is that a problem?"  His eyes hit a cross necklace that I'd laid on top of my dresser.  "Of course it is; I just assumed.  Look, I can move some stuff into the office and get another bed--"

I put my hands on his cheeks and kissed him.  "No, it's not a problem, it's just, look, you know I'm kind of a weird girl with a lot of contradictory stuff in my head.  I didn't really grow up dreaming about my wedding or being Missus someone, so it's kind of the first time I'm thinking of a lot of this."  I stepped in a bit closer.  "It's kind of nice to know there's going to be someone there to hold me every night."

He took the hint and pulled me in, cupping my butt and letting my soft chest press against his hard one.  "I'm not going to mind holding this, either."

"Mm."

He chuckled.  "Of course, if we do enough, then that home office might have to double as a nursery."

It was the first time either of us had said something like this, but, strangely, it didn't leave me shaken.  "Well, we'd better be careful on the timing.  See what the next year brings before we make that commitment!"

Moira interrupted us at that point, but we did pick up where we left off later, and I can confirm - I does feel pretty good to fall asleep in your man's arms, in the bed you share, in the house that has your names on the door.

-Jonah/Krystle

Dave/Chris: Trying on these lives

We caught a red-eye flight to San Francisco, so we had a little bit of extra time before we left. It ended up being a good thing that we did, because I read through a lot of this blog, which helped me with a few things. Apparently, we're the final block of the year, before the inn shuts down for winter. That means that our bodies will be in limbo until it reopens. This is good news, because it means that we don't have to spend as long in these bodies as we'd feared, and nobody else is going to screw up our lives, or worse, run away with our bodies. We just have to reserve the same room next year as soon as the inn starts taking reservations.

Knowing this, we decided to take our phones, so that we can at least text people. 6 months is still a long time to be missing, and we don't want anyone going to the police to file missing persons reports. We also took our keys, just in case we needed to go back to Indy for something, and didn't write letters for the next people. I did email my ex-wife and my daughter to tell them that I wasn't going to be contactable for a while. As I almost expected, neither of them responded. The divorce was quite bitter and my ex first got custody of my daughter. My daughter was 12 at the time, and my ex told her a lot of lies about me, to the point that she wanted nothing to do with me. She's 14 now, and I haven't seen her in a couple of years. I hope we can reconnect sometime in the future and she hears my side of the story, but I have to accept that it's probably not happening any time soon. Luckily I work for myself, and most of that involves driving around, fixing locks or letting people into their own homes after they lock themselves out, so I don't have a lot of expenses if I shut it down.

As soon as we got to the airport, I needed to pee. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, and not even worth mentioning here. But when you look like a man, but have a vagina, it can be terrifying. Logically, I knew that I could just go to a stall and pee, and nobody would care, because I look like a man. But I couldn't help worrying that somehow, someone would find out. Of course, nobody did, but it's not something I ever thought I would have to worry about. 

I couldn't sleep on the flight - there was just too much going on in my head. I didn't talk to Shane a lot. He seemed to be preoccupied with his own thoughts, and I don't think he really slept either. We took an Uber to "our" appartment and let ourselves in. It's nice and neat, and not too big. It has 2 bedrooms - one is obviously a guest room, which is now my room.

We spent the next few days trying to get settled into these lives. The video on my phone from the original Chris showed him as a man in his 50s. They had become husband and wife, and whilst it seems that Chris was excited to be a "real" man, he and Sylvia had also lost 30 years of their lives, if they wanted to keep those bodies. He wasn't sure that he wanted this trade-off, so their intention at the moment is to come back to their original lives. She talked a bit about their history as well. In short, Sylvia is bisexual and got together with Chris as lesbians when they were both women. A few years later, Chris came out as trans and had a sex change. Apparently, I have to have weekly hormone injections now, or I'll start getting periods. It's all a bit much to process. I've never known anyone who had a sex change or was gay, and now I've actually become a person who was gay and then had a sex change. When I asked Shane about what he saw on Sylvia's video, he said that she only spoke about the cafe.

Speaking of which...they did us a big favor after they changed and posted on their social media that the cafe would be shut until October 1. This gives us a few days to settle in and to also learn how to run this business. There are extensive spreadsheets that give us all the information we need, and we have Craig, a part time employee, as well as Cindy, a casual worker who can jump in and help if someone can't work, so I'm hopeful it will be OK. We had a look at it, and it seems nice enough in what looks like a happening part of the city.

The other night, during dinner, we were talking about these lives and Shane suddenly said: "You know, when we first changed, I thought you were the lucky one, because you get to stay male. And that would be true if we were stuck like this forever. But we're not - we should be able to easily get our bodies back in a little more than half a year. I can get a whole different experience that comes with being the opposite sex, that you can't. So I'm going to try to experience it as best as I can, and I don't want you to get weirded out when I wear make-up or skirts. I just want to try it and next year we go back to being ourselves again. I would kick myself if I didn't use this as an opportunity to learn something." 

Wow....I didn't see that coming. Shane has always been pretty macho. There's not much of a feminine side to him, and since we've occupied these bodies, Shane has seemed very self conscious, and worn clothes as gender neutral as possible. He's tied his hair back into a ponytail, and worn no make-up. I think he's only worn a bra when it was absolutely necessary. "Is this something you've wanted to do before?" "No" he replied. "But haven't you ever wondered what it's like for women? It's less than a year, and in this body, I'm not going to be doing anything that doesn't look normal. I'm not comfortable in this body, so I may as well at least try to dress and act like a normal woman, and who knows, maybe I'll get a little more comfortable over time. I'm really comfortable being me...being in Shane's body and I can't wait to get back, so don't worry about that"  

I could see where he was coming from, but I was happy not to be in his position. I may not have a penis in this body, but I have no desire to look like or be treated as a woman. I'm genuinely curious to see how he's going to do this. "OK. I get it, and I'll try to work with you. When do you plan on starting this?" "Well...." he replied "We've been cooped up here every night since we arrived, so I thought that maybe we go out for a drink somewhere. There's a little bar not far from here that we could walk to." I shrugged my shoulders and said "Sure. Why not?"

So after dinner, Shane disappeared into his room for probably an hour. When he finally reemerged, he was wearing a dark blue dress that was quite modest, showing no cleavage and going to just below his knees, and a small white cardigan over the top. His hair was still in a ponytail, and he wasn't wearing any make-up. He was wearing small hoop earrings and a nose ring. I didn't realise that his nose was even pierced. He has a pretty face, and he looked more than presentable, even without make-up. I gave him a thumbs up for approval, and he found himself some black flats that he slipped on. We were just about to leave when he rushed back to his room again. He came out 5 minutes later with a black purse slung over his shoulder. "No pockets" he said as we left.

The bar was about a 15 minute walk away, and as we were walking, I asked if he was OK. "I feel strange" he said "I was going to wear a skirt, but I didn't know which tops would go with them. She has a lot of clothes, and I got confused. I went with a dress because then I didn't have to make that decision. Also, I'm wearing pantyhose, and I don't know if they're sitting right, because I don't know how they're supposed to feel. I wasn't planning on wearing any, but when I put just the dress on, I felt almost naked. This makes me feel less exposed, and it's also getting cold at night, so I thought they might help. It still feels like my panties are going up my crotch and again, I dont know if that's normal. I can't do make-up or hair yet, and I figure I should wear the nose ring, because Sylvia wore it and I don't want the hole to close up. That and the earrings are quite easy to put in. I don't know if any of it matches what I'm wearing." I just assured him that he looked fine.

Being midweek, it wasn't very busy, so we easily found a table and ordered drinks. At the beginning of the night, Shane seemed very self-conscious. He tugged his dress down constantly, and occasionally adjusting his bra. I had to remind him to keep his legs together a few times as well. But over time, he relaxed more and more, which was good. We had a couple of moments were we both needed to use the restroom. Luckily they had a stall that wasn't too bad, and Shane seemed reluctant to go to the ladies. But by the time we left, we were joking and laughing as we always did - helped by the fact that we had a few drinks.

We got home quite late, but opened another couple of beers and sat and talked for a while longer. It's a surreal experience, but I think we're both grateful that we don't have to go through it on our own.

Marc/Ed: The reality of the situation

Grandpa Ed was clearly not one for technology. He has a big old PC in the spare room of the house with the resolution cranked way up, which is a sad reminder that one of the many things I lost in this trade is the quality of my eyesight. John, if you're reading this, I just want you to know this has been no picnic for me either.

I would have loved to stay at the Inn a little longer and help people through their own transformations, but with John's reaction -- understandable but stressing -- and the specifics of the roles we had been slotted into, I felt it best if we hurry home posthaste. Cayden was supposed to be in school all this time and his mother -- Ed's daughter -- was not overly pleased at the delay.

Apparently their cover story was that Ed's very expensive fishing equipment had been stolen and he needed to stay nearby in case it was recovered. With Pamela -- Cayden's mom -- working long shifts as a nurse and raising the kids herself, she didn't exactly have time to come down from Portland to fetch him. I did indeed face her wrath when I got back though, and what could I say in my own defense?

Tensions thawed, somewhat reluctantly, between me and John/Cayden. I don't know that I was expecting him to embrace this thing with open arms, but he seemed to hate me a little less as days went on. His fury and ire settled into a quiet simmer, a cold shoulder, the silent treatment. On the drive home, I elected to fill the silence.

"You know, before this happened to me," I started to say, wondering whether I was being too blithe about it, "The first time... I was married. I lost my wife in the long run. We were already drifting apart though."

"I wonder why," he sniffed, staring out the window in the backseat.

"I deserve that," I shrugged. "It helped me though, to move on, to accept that I was not thriving in my situation. I was depressed and I needed a change, I just didn't know it."

"You think I was depressed?"

"I know you were depressed. Don't act like you didn't say as much."

Pause. "So you lost your wife. Maybe she knew what she was doing, just like you."

I took a long pause at that and kept my eyes on the road. It was not a thought that had ever occurred to me. Maybe John was just trying to get under my skin. The situations were certainly similar enough.

Had Laura known? She had never let on that she had. For God's sake, I even stayed a lawyer. You're telling me that's a coincidence?

"Maybe she did," I finally said, not letting him get any sense if I was bothered by the thought. It's all in the past now, and I even passed up my chance to go back to being Marc Green.

"When you asked me if I would give up my life..." he said, "I didn't think about not being there for my daughter's wedding. That's what I'm thinking about right now."

That certainly isn't something he thought of when I presented him with the hypothetical a few weeks ago. Nor in any of our other life-and-death conversations. It's funny what comes to you when you're really staring down an uncertain future.

"Is your daughter getting married?"

"Not yet, but someday I'm sure."

"Well then you'll be there," I said. "I'll make sure of it."

"Don't feed me lies, Ryan," he said. I could hear a tear in his voice. "You can't promise that."

Heavy sigh. My heart sank. I pivoted. "You know my name isn't really Ryan, right?"

"You're Ryan to me."

"You want to hear about who else I've been?"

"Not right now," he said in a vanishing little voice. "I'm tired."

Aidan/Emlia: "Dress for the job you want..."

We were sitting down to stream a movie Friday night when Monica's phone rang and Rusty, surprisingly, picked it up, looked at the number, and answered.  After a couple of quick things that barely seemed like a conversation - "Okay...  Really?  That's great!  Er, for me...  Comfortable shoes...  Ten AM sharp..."  He hung it up and then lifted it in the air like a trophy.  "Listen up, freeloaders, I've got a job!  Starting tomorrow, I am a brand ambassador for Dragon Adrenaline!"

Kutter raised an eyebrow.  "And that is...?"

"Like, the fifth-most popular energy drink in China.  Doesn't sound like much, but #5 in a country of a billion is a lot of people, and this little company in Queens got the American bottling rights.  Ground floor bay-bee!"

I nodded warily.  "Sounds pretty last minute."

"Yeah, I guess the girl they hired first found out she'd landed a similar job with a drug company - a lot of the girls there were sort of treating this as backup for if one of them didn't work out, but they were also talking about that as a great way to meet doctors.  Anyway, I haven't even taken chemistry yet, so this is a better fit for me.  Or Monica.  Or me pretending to be Monica, really.  But the important part is - first!"

We laughed, watched the movie, and then turned in; the next morning Rusty was off, excited for his first job.   I tried not to fret too much, forcing myself to go to a movie with Kutter so I wouldn't be checking my phone every minute.  Around five or so, I got a text saying it was going well because they wanted him to stay on for the night shift and not to wait up.

Fat chance, but it was about 2am when the apartment door opened and Rusty came in, wearing short-shorts and a branded crop-top, giving me a nod and something about how they sure take that "city that never sleeps" thing seriously before walking into Monica's room, flopping down on the bed, and falling asleep without even turning the light off.  I did and closed the door.

The next morning, he must have freaked out looking at the alarm he didn't set, because I was taking a shower when I heard pounding on the bathroom door.  "Hey, could you let me in there?  I've got to go to work and I'm still sweaty from yesterday!"  I sighed and quickly grabbed a robe so he could rush in.

He came out dressed in an identical outfit to the one he'd come home in the night before, and Kutter, just getting out of bed himself, gave a little smirk.  "Oh, so 'brand ambassador' means 'booth babe'."

"It does not!  I mean, that's not the whole job.  Anyway, today's street fair is supposed to finish up at six, so I won't be so late.  Bye!"  And he ran out the door, taking a swig of his employer's product.

Kutter looked at me after he left.  "We're going to go check this out, right?"

I wasn't looking to see Rusty looking silly the way Kutter maybe was, but...  "Oh yeah."

We didn't go straight away, instead waiting until the afternoon, figuring out where streets were closed off and walking around.  Eventually we found the Dragon Adrenaline booth - just a little canopy with a folding table with a bunch of miniature Solo cups that Rusty and a red-haired girl about the same age we appear to be handing them out and filling them from a soda machine when they were running low.  At one point during this Rusty had to bend down to reconnect a hose so that his butt was sticking up, and one of the guys behind him reached out and slapped it.  A look of surprise and anger flashed across Rusty's face, and I was about to step forward, but the other girl got in between them.  "Hey, looks like you've got enough energy that you don't need any of this."  It looked like it was going to get ugly for a second, but apparently the vibe shifted just enough that the group this guy was in walked off, though they knocked some of the cups on the table over on the way out.  By then, Rusty was standing up straight again and chatting with folks at the other end of the table.

I turned and walked away, and Kutter chased me.  "Hey, Da--Emilia, what's the rush?"

"Nothing, just...  Rusty's working, and being Monica besides, so probably wouldn't appreciate us interrupting?"  It felt better to say that than bring up how I had been pushing them to get jobs, which of course was going to lead to them being in spaces where men felt them up.  And for all that I wanted to intervene as a father, I knew that I probably wouldn't have done so as well as that girl did.

Rusty didn't seem much worse for the wear as a result; he texted that he would be bringing pizza on the way home, and showed up having gone to a fancier place than we usually ordered from, and happily belched his way through dinner saying he was had been sampling the product all day and his whole belly was full of carbonation.

The next morning, he came out of Monica's room in a red skirt, matching blazer and purse, white shoes with a chunky two-inch heel, and a top that showed about an inch of cleavage, posing in front of Kutter.  "Well, what do you think?  If you owned a convenience store, would you buy super-caffeinated soda that tastes like sesame oil from this girl?"

Kutter gave a thumbs-up.  "Sure, why not?  Though I think they're called 'bodegas' here."

"Cool!"  The phone in his purse rang, and he took it out.  "Hello, this is Monica...  Really?  Wow!...  Okay, I'll be in as fast as the subway will take me!"  He hung up and looked at his brother.  "I made a sale yesterday, and they want me to deliver the first order to help cement the relationship!"

They gave each other a high five, but I felt a little confused.  "You made a sale?"

"What, you didn't think my entire job was standing around looking pretty, did you?"  I have to admit, I had been thinking that from what I saw the day before.  "That's part of it, sure, but they also want me to visit all of the individually owned convenience stores - uh, bodegas - and pitch them on the product.  One of the folks at the fair yesterday owns one and called an order in after hours, so I've already got my first commission!"  He ran over and hugged me.  "I'm so glad I can help out like this - like, I was scared that I'd just be dead weight, but I really think I can help!"  Suddenly embarrassed, he stepped back and smoothed out his outfit.  "Anyway, I'll see you all later - good luck on your interviews today!"

And with that, my 15-year-old son was off on his first real day as a a sales girl.

Kutter and I both had interviews today, of course.  My last scheduled one was at 2 PM, at a mid-sized publisher - not Penguin Random House, but not some tiny vanity press, either, and it went pretty well - for all that I'd felt kind of lost trying to get a job with Emilia's degree, seeing Rusty find something made me a bit more confident, and all of the day's interviews seemed like they went pretty well.

As I was leaving the last one, though, the person who had interviewed me accompanied me back to the lobby, saying they'd be in touch, then turned to a girl sitting where I'd been half an hour before. "Hi!  Are you Katey?"

I turned around to scope out the competition, only to see it was Kutter - and he was wearing a black pencil skirt, four-inch heels, and a white blouse, with his hair up in a tight bun.  He uncrossed his legs and stood to shake our interviewer's hand, eyes widening a bit when he saw me but recovering quickly, letting her usher him to the back.

When he left the building forty-five minutes later, I was still sitting on the steps, sipping a coffee, and grinned sheepishly.  "Hey, uh, Emilia, isn't this a coincidence!"

"I guess so, Katey.  I guess Monica really inspired you this morning, huh, going with the secretary cospay?"

Kutter looked confused.  "You mean cosplay?  But, no, I..."  There were lots of people around, so he pointed at an open space across the street.  "Why don't we talk about it over there?"  I nodded and we crossed, finding a bench where he crossed his legs knee-over-knee.  "Okay, I know this must seem strange, but well, you know how the interviews have gone, right?  Like, a lot of shops and restaurants saying that they're kind of worried someone with a degree in English Literature will leave as soon as they find a better opportunity than waiting tables, or them looking at you like they knew you were a fake?"  I nodded.  "Well, so, I figured I'd try and make sure the vibe wasn't off.  I sort of started scoping out what folks working in places like this who looked like they'd just graduated were wearing, then checked to see if Katey had left me any clothes like that, and went looking for YouTube videos on how to do the bun and practicing walking in these heels."

"So, dress for the job you want?"

His face lit up like he'd never heard that saying; maybe he hadn't.  "Right!  Exactly!  I started going on interviews in this sort of outfit last week, and it feels like people are looking at me a little less weird.  I feel kind of tense, but maybe they figure everyone in for an interview feels tense."  He looked away from me.  "I, uh, kind of made sure to change back into something less girly before you and Rusty get back to the apartment, or if I think you're there, I'll have a spare outfit and change in the laundry room downstairs."  He opened his bag and showed me the slacks and sneakers inside.  "Although I guess if he's okay with us seeing him in a skirt, maybe I should be too."  His phone buzzed and he checked it.  "Well, one more interview today.  See you at home."

I nodded and wished him goodbye, then got on the subway to get out of Manhattan.  I'm not sure what Kutter got up to or how long that interview took, because Rusty actually made it back to the apartment first, though only by ten minutes or so, and he was surprised when Kutter came through the door.  "Whoa, nice legs, bro!"  We both gave him a look, and he looked hurt that we might consider him insincere.  "What, Kutter got some nice legs from Katey!  And the bun is something else, because I am unreasonably scared of hairpins."

Katey laughed.  "Yeah, I'm not sure I'll want to do this every morning if I get hired somewhere, but thanks for noticing."

They started talking about their day - that this often doesn't really include me is probably a topic for another post, and I went into Emilia's room, looked in the closet, and in the mirror, and tried to figure out what I should do for tomorrow's interviews.  Kutter may not have known "dress for the job you want", but both he and Rusty seemed to figure it out in their own ways, much quicker than I did.  If they ask me later, I'll probably tell them that I was just giving them space to adapt at their own pace, but sometimes it feels like they're the ones affording that to me.

-Aidan/Emilia

Paul: Not the Position I was applying for

Ok so apparently I'm not the only new person to find this blog in recent weeks, but I guess the end of season is kind of the busy time for people whose live's have been turned upside down and ruined by magic. 

My real name is Paul Eastman and I'm supposed to be 22 and just graduated from Virgina Tech. I was up in Maine as the last stop on a Summer road trip/ applying for jobs at National Parks with my forestry degree. I had just finished my final in person interview at Acadia and it had run long so I was late to get onto the road back to the DC suburbs where my parents live, so I just decided to stay over in Old Orchard Beach. It was the choice between the Trading Post Inn and the Motel 6 and the theme of my trip was "Try Local Things" I went with the boutique little place instead of the big chain. 

  I arrived Thursday evening exhausted from 5 weeks on the road and just ready to go home. I didn't really do much besides order a Doordash lobster roll, watch Netflix on my phone, and pass out into what may have been the deepest sleep of my whole life, considering all that happened that I managed to sleep through. 

 I didn't set an alarm so the sun hitting my eyes from the window is what woke me up. Everything was fuzzy so I squinted a few times to try and make the world clearer to no avail before moving my hands up to rub them and have them met with hair. I've always had a buzz cut, something leftover from Scouts, so long hair in my face was enough to get me to jolt up in bed and almost fall off it from the shock of all the movement on my chest. I looked down and saw my purple tshirt stretched out in front of me by an unmistakably female chest. Out of shock and instinct I reached down to grab them and saw my arms were hairless, my hands were tiny, and my nails were long and pink. "What the fuck" I said, hearing my voice in a much higher sound.

 I jumped out of bed to go find a mirror and was met with a dull pain in my hip...I winced and even that was in a higher pitch. I reached down to rub it and felt a soft jiggling of fat on my normally pretty fit midsection. Everything jiggled and swayed on the way to the bathroom as I made my way there, turned on the light, and saw a woman in the mirror. Not a girl, a full on woman. About as old as my mom from the look of things. Shoulder length light brown hair with a few grays, hazel eyes, a few wrinkles on her face. She looked weird wearing my boxers and shirt that said "Hokies" across the front. The shirt was too big everywhere but the chest, going almost to my new knees...I must have lost like a foot in height. Lifting it up slowly my boxers were stretched to the limit around the thigh and hips. I lifted the waistband to get some relief and saw my penis had been replaced and this was a complete change. 

 "Why am I a girl?" I asked my reflection That answer came after a few minutes of inspection with a knock on the door. 

I tiptoed over and opened it a crack, feeling suddenly so small and vulnerable. On the other side was a tall guy a little younger than me. Or at least he seemed tall...how short was I now? The guy in the doorway looked relieved to see me "I found her" He called down the hallway 

 "Wait" I say quickly "I'm not---" 

"You're not really that woman, I know. It's going to be OK, follow me and it will all be explained. I followed him into the next room where there was a teenage girl having a very heated argument into a cell phone. 

"How do you screw this up" She said to the person into the phone "There are 15 years of detailed fucking instructions on the internet on how to change back and you had to mess it up for one last fling, but I don't suppose that matters since YOU got back to normal" She looked up at me with a look of defeat and annoyance "I'm going to have to deal with all of this...thanks for nothing" she said hanging up the phone and turning to me 

"Please tell me you have some idea of what's going on" 

 "I have no clue" I say "I went to bed last night and woke up a woman"

 The teenage girl sat on the bed sighed. "Great. On top of everything now there's a man in my body" 

The guy who had led me here saw that that had confused me even more "Have a seat while I explain" 

The first thing the two of them explained was the whole nature of the cursed hotel, how you turn into a replica of someone who had stayed there before. And then they told me that the reason they knew all about it was because this was the second year in a row they've been here. 

Kimberly and Maya Scott were a mother and daughter that had stayed here in 2023 before becoming sisters in Arkansas for the past year. During that time they had set up and planned a reverse stay with the people in their bodies and the people whose bodies they were in to try and get everyone back to normal. 

It worked almost to perfection. Things got messed up when the person who was in Maya's body had a little too much fun on the beach the night before the switch and took a local back to their room to hook up. The person who was in Kimberly's body slept in the bathtub and apparently that extra person triggered the switch and since the magic goes off of who slept where an not just the room numbers, when it came time for the Scotts to finish the chain Kim became Maya, Maya became the hookup, and I....closest to the bathtub....became Kim.

 I was relieved to hear we would be able to turn back "Ok, so all we do is stay here again and we can get back to normal?" I suggested 

 "Yeah, except this stupid Inn isn't year round" Kim said letting her frustration rise again "This is the last fucking week they sell until May. We're stuck like this until May!" 

That hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe I'm being selfish because being a young man I have no idea how to operate in the world as woman who looks and feels 43 years old. At least I'll have her nearby to make sure I don't make too big a mess of her life. Unfortunately the real Maya will have to do her senior year of high school here in Maine, as a man. Although from her talking she didn't seem as angry about it as Kim. Maybe it's having already spent another year as someone else, maybe it's the addition of male privilege to try out. I don't know. I just know that I've got to fake being a mother and apparently wife for the next few months. 

 Should have just risked the bedbugs at Motel 6 

 

 -Paul

Marc/Ryan/?: ...I'm tired and I want to go to bed...

"I took a risk, I took a risk, I took a risk..." I chant to myself during a private moment of examining my face in the mirror. I had figured the odds were in favor of John and I ending up in some lives that were perfectly livable while we worked to figure out how to proceed. In actuality, it's more evidence in favor of the fact that I should not be permitted to make decisions for my own life.

I wouldn't even say it was a particularly good vacation. I've certainly had better. The weather was agreeable but summer heat is over. John was very keen to cuddle at night, taking advantage of the fact that we were far away from anyone who knows him, but I was a little iffy on taking things further physically because, who knows what that might lead to if we transform mid-act (which I have some experience with.) That turned out to be a correct instinct, one of very few.

So the whole thing felt like a business trip and John was worried that I was upset with him. I tried to reassure him that wasn't the case, without actually explaining what was on my mind.

Despite the decreased intimacy, the trip gave us a chance to spend some real time together, browsing shops and going out to eat as if we were actually a, gasp, couple. I didn't say much about myself because I haven't been "Ryan" for too long, but John filled the silences, seemingly having waited a lifetime to unburden himself like this. There were times when I was really happy to see the real John at play. Something about seeing someone attempt to be comfortable in his own skin, combined with the predisposition toward men I had inherited, really made my heart beat, which was something I felt like I needed to put a pin in and unpack later, depending on how everything shook out. We did have some sex during daylight hours, since what little I understand about the Inn's magic, it appears to be a nocturnal thing.

I pointedly said we should not look at the mysterious baggage found in the closet, ostensibly out of respect but really because, well, I didn't want to deal with it.

I spent as much time as possible avoiding answering the question of: what do I actually tell him when it happens? Years of law practice gave me what I think is a pretty strong poker face, but it wouldn't be too hard to put two and two together when you consider how actively I worked to put this trip together.

When I woke up yesterday morning, I could tell almost immediately that the change had happened overnight. I knew some of what was different about m physical form but lying still in bed, I remained frozen as long as I could. Time was up on deciding how to play it. It felt like there was nobody in bed at all beside me. I would need to investigate further to determine what that meant: had John gotten up and left in the night? Surely if he knew he had transformed, he would have woken me up, no? 

The room was dim. The sun hadn't broken in yet. I reached over to my phone. It was not even 5 AM.

Gingerly, I pushed myself up. I felt heavy. Slow creep to the bathroom. Light. Mirror. Oh, no.

Looking back at me was the rather saggy and jowly face whose name I soon learned was Ed Levesque -- Grandpa Ed to some. I smacked my forehead. Dolt. Everyone assumes they'll become some pretty young thing or an affluent middle-aged person. I guess all walks of life find themselves at the Inn, naturally.

I went back to the bed, cautiously. There was lying a young boy of about 10. Little "Cayden," aka John. He had not yet woken up, at least not until I sat back down on the creaky mattress.

"What's going on?" he asked in his little voice. "Who are you?"

"John," I said in something of a wheeze, "Something's happened. Something very strange."

It's a bit of a blur, how I managed to mumble an explanation and let him see for himself. The word "No" was said and shouted a variety of times in his little voice. Well, I say little as in young, but he could really holler.

Finally came the part I had been dreading. In a cold, soft tone, "Did you... know this would happen?"

I sighed and dropped all pretense of lying to him. "I knew something would. Not this specifically. I just knew how badly you were hurting and needed to... to get out of your life. You said so yourself."

He cursed me out with all the fortitude of the grown man he really is: "You bastard! You rat bastard! What did you do to me? What did you do to me??!"

I certainly didn't expect it to do well, but I steeled myself and tried to draw on some of my past experience being in rooms with people who hated my guts. I could navigate this. I explained rationally that we could go back, but not until the Inn re-opened next year.

If you've never had a ten-year-old boy tell you "I never want to see your fucking face again," well, it's certainly an experience. Unfortunately, it seems like we're somewhat tied together, what with me being the lad's grandfather and all.

It's going to be some year.

-Marc/Ed