Transplanted Life
Friday, October 17, 2003
Moral victories (and failings)
In the "victory" side of the ledger, I didn't kill Mark, who decided "casual Friday" meant "wear a Derek Jeter jersey to work day". Kindness like that was rampant. Makes me feel good about the people I work with.

It's too bad that such a great season, series, and game came down to that ending. I'm pretty firmly in the "kill Grady Gump" camp. Fortunately, I didn't really feel this strongly until after Jen's boyfriend had left for work at quarter of eleven. He's a cop, and I guess there were a lot on duty last night.

What this meant was that by the time the game finally and painfully ended at 12:20am, I didn't know whether the T would still be running. I know it kicks out sometime around twelve or twelve-thirty, but I'm not sure when. Anyway, I was going to take a cab, but Jen said just to stay there. We spent fifteen minutes trying to fold out her couch before realizing that it didn't turn into a bed. "Am we just really tired," she asked, "or am I exceptionally blonde to not know my own furniture."

"Nah," I said, "You're exceptionally blonde to think anything can be used as a bed." That got me a pillow to the head.

"Ah, well," she said. "My bed's a king-size, so there's more than enough room. Carlos won't be back until nine, anyway."

I was kind of amused that I just can't wind up on the couch. Jen reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of pajamas. What surprised me, though, was when Jen just started peeling to get into her own jammies.

No big deal, right? We're both physically women, right? Still, first time I've been in a room with a girl in her underwear since this started. And I felt bad, because she didn't think twice about taking off her clothes because she saw no reason why it should be a big deal. Meanwhile, I'm putting "make hot sweaty love with Jen" to my list of Things To Do When I Get My Own Body Back. That's not fair to her, and it's even worse that she doesn't even know I'm doing it.

I bury that, though, and get changed myself. Jen's a few inches taller than Michelle, so I've got to roll the cuffs up to avoid tripping over them, and the top is pretty tent-line (still, I'm glad it's not tight in the chest). She asks me if her 6:30 alarm is okay, since she likes to run a couple miles before getting ready for work, and I say it's fine, since I've got to get home to change anyway. We hit the bed, me drawing an imaginary line across the middle, but we don't go to sleep right away.

She asks me how I'm doing now that Kurt's out of my life. I tell her that I'm so used to him being out of my life during the weekend anyway that I haven't really noticed a difference yet, and there's some truth to that. I ask her how she doesn't freak out with Carlos going out on patrol every night. She says that know Carlos is out there makes her feel safe, and that it balances out the worry a little. I say that I guess that's fair, and we drift off.

When I wake up, I feel a breast in my hand, which isn't that unusual - I've had a ton of weird dreams that end with me waking up, fondling Michelle's body - but not feeling a hand on my breast is. It only take me a minute to realize where my hand is, and it jolts me awake. I remove my hand and get out of the bed as quickly as possible without waking her up. I decide to make myself scarece, but her alarm has gone off by the time I've gotten dressed and found my purse (it's a cruel joke that society tells women they need to have makeup, maxi-pads, and the like with them all the time but gives them clothes with no pockets, or that are so tight that they might as well not have any). She doesn't seem to realize where my hands got to while we slept, though, so we just chit-chat a little before she heads out for her run and I get on the subway.

She doesn't say anything to me, or anyone else, apparently, at work, so I guess it's no big deal. But it is. It's a reminder that my every interaction with other people is affected by what happened to me. Even people who've never met Martin Hartle or Michelle Garber before the switch. I had thought that one of the good things about Kurt dumping "Michelle" was that I wouldn't feel like I was deceiving everybody I came into contact with.

I guess I was fooling myself.

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