Page 42 of So I Married an Alien
I have to smile.“As it was for me, too.”
“Good.”Amara strokes my bare chest a few times before her hand slowly stops, and her breath evens out.It’s rather easy to drift off with her, sleeping on a cloud.
I’m awoken by the sound of a blaring noise.Amara groans next to me, then reaches for the bedside table and smacks some object there.The noise ceases immediately, but by then I’m already sitting up in bed, wondering if our ship is about to crash.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, sitting up.“That stupid thing is the only reason I can get up in the morning.”She yawns and stretches, then slides out of bed to put on her clothes.I do the same, now that my things are in her drawers, and we emerge ready for the day.
Quickly Amara throws together breakfast, then heads off to work.Once again, I have the day to myself—something which is no longer as novel as it once was.
So to keep myself busy, I clean.I scrub the counters, even the walls behind them, which have splashes of red sauce on them.I climb up on Amara’s step stool to reach the high corners of the living room, where some kind of white string has accrued.
I nearly fall off it when a tiny animal with eight legs drops onto my hand.I have no idea what sort of creature it is, but reflexively, I toss it away.It lands on the ground easily and runs, vanishing behind the television.
Gross.I consider looking for it and crushing it, but I don’t know if I ever want to see it again.
I’ll have to ask Amara about that.She probably does not want tiny eight-legged creatures living in her condo.
Then I move on to the bedroom, making the bed, organizing our belongings in the dresser, rearranging my clothes in the closet.I don’t dare to touch Amara’s in case she has them in some type of order, but I pick up clothing that has fallen on the floor and straighten all her shoes, most of which look like the kind that hurt her feet.
What an odd choice.But the shoes did make her butt look very nice.
When I’m done, I clean up the room that was formerly mine, taking all the bedding off the futon now that I won’t be using it.I fold and pile it up, then clean the corners and walls of this room, too.
When I’m finished, it’s only early afternoon, so I head out of the apartment to walk to the park.I’m used to the stares I get.Today, a small Earthling child with thick black curls breaks away from her mother and runs toward me.
“Alien!”She stops in front of me as her mother chases her.“Wow!So cool.What are you?”
I crouch so I can get a better look at her.“I am Karthinian.”
“So sorry,” the woman says, grabbing the little girl’s hand.“Izzy’s only four.”
“It’s all right.”I smile at the two of them, as I have not had the chance to interact with a human child yet.“You are new to me, too.”
The girl cocks her head.“You have so many arms.”
“I do.I can carry many bags of groceries.”
The mother barks a laugh.“I bet someone in your life finds that very useful.”
They are on a walk, and so the mother, Sylvia, invites me to walk with them so her child can ask me more questions.Izzy is very eager to learn all aboutNew Dro’thar II, and I try to spin a tale that is much less sordid than reality.
“I am glad I came to Earth, though,” I tell them.“Your sun is beautiful, and I have a very lovely wife.”
Sylvia, who has bountiful curls like her daughter, beams at me.“I thought you might be with the Matching Program.I’m sure she’s a lucky lady.”
“I know that I am a lucky Karthinian male.”
When we reach the end of the path, we say goodbye, and I walk the rest of the way home much lighter on my feet.But when I reach the condo, my communicator chirps.
Who could be trying to reach me?For a moment, I worry that it’s Gazargo, the little alien matchmaker, calling to tell me that I must go home.But surely that isn’t it.
When I answer, my communicator displays a hologram of someone familiar.It is my friend Zono once again.
“Ah, Roth’kar!”he says when I accept the call.“It’s good to see you.”
I cannot say the same.Seeing Zono inside his room, the walls dark and dirty, the ceiling leaking, takes me back to a place in my mind that I rather would not be.I am grateful to see a familiar face, of course, but it also reminds me of what I chose to leave behind.
“Hello,” I say, instead of returning the greeting.“I didn’t expect your call.”
