A week later, James sat on the porch, feeling more at home in his mother’s body than he’d imagined. The first few days had been awkward, but he was starting to get into the rhythm of things—the way her hips swayed when he walked, how her voice lilted when he spoke.
He watched his younger self and young-Abby as they sprawled on the grass, engrossed in a game of cards. He felt a strange sense of power being the grown-up in this old life.
The front door swung open, and Abby stepped out with two glasses of beer. She handed one to James, then collapsed into the chair beside him.
“This is the life, huh?” Abby said, leaning back and stretching her long legs out in front of her.
James took a sip of beer and smiled, thinking about the past week. They had gone to the arcade, the zoo, even the water park. And every night, they'd tumbled into bed, breathless and amazed at how far they could push their roles.
“Yeah,” James said, “Kind of makes me wish it could last longer.”
Abby turned to him, her expression mischievous, “We could always get ‘stuck’ a little longer than two months.”
James laughed, a thrill running through him, “Maybe… I guess it doesn’t matter, as long as we return at some point.”
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun dip lower in the sky.
“It’s funny. Reliving our childhood from this perspective.”
“So strange to be here. To be them, you know, before the divorce,” James mused, fingering the hem of his shorts, “It’s nice. I missed this period of our lives.”
"Me too," Abby smirked, "How is it being a woman? For you, I mean?"
James considered the question, tilting his head in a way that had become natural over the past week.
"It's... different," he said carefully, "Everything feels more. The breeze on my skin, the way clothes fit, even how people look at me."
He took another sip of beer, "And God, the bras. How do women deal with these torture devices every day? But…"
"But what?" Abby pressed, leaning closer.
"But I kind of like it," James admitted quietly, almost afraid to hear himself say it, "Being her. Being... a woman. The sex is..."
He paused, his cheeks flushing, "it's completely different. When we... you know... I feel everything everywhere. It's intense."
Abby laughed, taking a long drink from her beer, "Oh, yeah.”
"Do you think we could change it?" he asked suddenly, the thought materializing before he could stop it.
Abby turned to him, "Change what?"
"The divorce. We're them now. We could... I don't know, fix whatever went wrong."
Abby's expression softened, "I'm not sure that's how it works, James. Besides, we don't even know what really happened between them."
James sipped his beer, watching as young-Abby flipped a card triumphantly, laughing as young-James groaned in defeat. The simple joy of their childhood game created a strange knot in his chest.
"Maybe we could at least find out," James suggested, his voice soft with longing, "Mom never talked about it. Dad just... left."
Abby's fingers tightened around her beer glass, "I remember finding Mom crying in the bathroom. She didn't know I saw her."
The memory hung between them, painful despite the years that had passed.
"Let's check Dad's office," James said suddenly, sitting up straighter, "There might be something there."
Abby raised an eyebrow, "You mean my office now?"
"Exactly," James grinned.
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