Page 13 of So I Married an Alien
Roth’kar tilts his head, then spins on his heel, zooming down the hallway to his room.He returns with his bag, which he opens, revealing pitifully few contents before he produces a folder.
“Is this thevee-sa?”
I open the folder to find exactly what I’m looking for, right on top.I exhale with relief.
“Good, it’s here.Keep it on you, then I can at least take you to the tailor.”
Rothkar’s antennae bob when he cocks his head.“Tailor?”
“A tailor measures you and then makes clothes, or alters clothes, to fit.”I hold out my arms.“Since humans only have two of these, there’s not much in the way of Earth-made outfits that will work for you.”
He nods in understanding.“Thank you, Amara.For doing this for me.”
I wave him off.“It’s my job as your wife to take care of you.”It’s strange how this word feels slipping off my tongue.Wife.“I wanted you to come here and share my life with me.”
Those glowing blue eyes study me, different enough from a human’s that I’m acutely aware of our differences.When I opted to marry an alien, I didn’t consider just howalienhe would be.
“Then, as your ‘husband,’ what is my job?”
“Your job?”I stare blankly at him, because I have no idea how to answer.I didn’t consider too deeply what my future husband might want to contribute to our relationship.“I… I don’t know.I mean, you don’t have to have a job.I make enough money to support us.”
Roth’kar is quiet, still watching me, as if puzzling over me.I feel a little bare under his gaze.
“I suppose I will have to find a job, then,” he says at last.“Something I can do to help you and make your life easier.”
It’s sweet that he wants to contribute something.
“Well, do you know how to cook?”I ask, as I sidle into the kitchen to get started on dinner.
“I cook.”He follows me, gazing curiously around the kitchen.“I can’t say that I know how to use any of these devices, though.Or how to make human food.”
I brighten.“At least you know how!That’s what’s important.”I pull out a pan, then fish through the fridge for ingredients.I had a few meals planned, but seeing as how much Roth’kar eats, I may have to go shopping again soon.“I can show you.”
“I would appreciate that.”
Roth’kar is a good student as I demonstrate dicing vegetables, then hand over the knife so he can mimic it.I express he should be careful with the blade, and this draws the first bit of laughter I’ve seen from him.
“I can use a knife,” he assures me as he chops the onions with ease.He’s doing it the wrong way, but I’ll correct him later.It helps that he has an extra pair of hands with which to do things, which makes him shockingly fast.
I wonder how hard it is to control four arms at once.That seems like a lot for the brain to keep track of.
“Do you cook every night?”Roth’kar asks as the food simmers.
“No, not every night.Actually, very few nights.”My lips screw up at the thought of just how much fast food I’ve eaten lately, ever since Elvis died.“I eat out a lot.”
“Eat out?”
“At a restaurant.Somewhere you go where people prepare the food for you, and you just eat it.”
His brow furrows.“Like our slophouse.”
I’m not sure I heard him right.“Slophouse?”
“Where we ate when we didn’t eat at home.”He thinks for a moment.“The translator says it is somewhat like a cafeteria.”
“No restaurants?Like, places where you can choose what to eat?”
“Choose?”He shakes his head.“The food comes out, it goes on your tray, and you eat it.Seconds cost extra chips.If you don’t eat it all, you can put it in your shirt, but then it tastes like shirt.Sometimes shirt is an improvement, though.”He nods at the chicken in my hands.“Will you show me how to cut this up so I can do it in the future?”
