“Enough!” he roars.
Part of me is glad he stopped me, because I was treading entirely too close to a truth neither of us are ready to face.
“I may not be the best father, but I’m still the only parent, the onlyfamilyyou have left. I don’t want any aliens in my apartment anymore. I’m serious, Destiny.”
He turns to leave, his robe swishing behind him dramatically, and I roll my eyes at his back before I stop him.
“It’s my apartment, Dad. It’s in my name. So if you want an alien-free apartment, you better apply for your own. Or better yet, find a way off this station, because, newsflash Dad, we’re all aliens here.”
I pause but when I see he is still standing in the doorway, frozen in the middle of his grand exit with his back still turned to me, I can’t resist saying one more thing.
“You need to do some real soul-searching, Dad, but either way, I’m not holding your hand anymore. Hell, maybe I’m making things worse. I don’t know, but either way, I can’t do this anymore. I hope you figure the food machine out.”
Then I grab my mac and cheese, which finished printing while we were arguing, and push past him to my room. I feel somewhat like a teenager hiding in their room, but the thought of sitting in the living room after our confrontation makes my stomach drop to the floor.
On the bright side, for a place with no animal byproducts, they make a mean mac and cheese.
The next day at work, my mind is racing. I feel like I should apologize to Gunnvall, but I’m too embarrassed and ashamed. I can’t believe how harsh I was to Khur for sticking up for me to my dad. I should probably apologize to him, too. I just can’t bring myself to apologize for my dad’s actions anymore. I can’t bring myself to keep making excuses for him, and I’m a bit disgusted for having done it for this long. Now I am stuck with him, though, and though I said I was washing my hands of it, I can’t help but brainstorm ways to make him broaden his mind about “aliens.”
Furga must see how distracted I am today, because she shoos me away shortly after lunch.
“Go home and take a nap or something. You’re not yourself today.”
She thinks I’m still hung up on Khur, and while he’s definitely part of my ever-circling thoughts, he’s also not my biggest concern. Something stops me from telling Furga more, though. I don’t want her to think I might sympathize with his hateful opinions. I don’t want to lose my new best friend so soon after I’ve found her. So I just wave and say thanks and hurry home, completely forgetting to take in all the colorful booths lining the corridor as I walk.
In front of my door is a package. It’s in a white container with a label that says 5-14-126 and my name in bold black letters. I take a moment to trace the capital D lovingly.
It’s so mundane and it makes me feel sohuman, receiving a package with my own name handwritten on the label. I honestly can’t remember the last time it happened. It feels precious as I lift the package into my arm and balance it onto my knee to wave my wrist over the door panel. It’s kind of heavy, and as big as the microwave I no longer have. I gently lower it onto the couch from behind then hop over into the recessed sitting area.
I should savor it, peel it open slowly and maybe try to keep my name intact so I can stare at it later, but I’m not the type. Instead I rip into it as maniacally as I can, only slowing down when I hear the clink of pottery inside.
Wrapped in soft, fluffy material I find a gorgeous dining set. Bright yellow and kelly green make angular patterns across a huge serving bowl, four smaller plates and four delightfully bell-shaped cups. Isearch everywhere for a letter, a card, a return address, anything telling me who sent them, but the sender hasn’t left a clue.
Three days. It’s been three days since the dinner party and I haven’t seen or heard from Khur once. I thought maybe the pottery was from him, but now I’m thinking he just ghosted me. I’m lightyears away from Earth, and men are still all the same. I try not to pout, but it’s exceedingly difficult, especially when I’m learning that it’s very difficult to explore the space station by myself. Yesterday I tried to go visit another floor and got so lost I ended up crying in a boiler room until a kind Silfan found me and guided me back to the elevator.
Furga’s great, but she’s not much help in that department, either. She doesn’t leave Division Five often, and she refuses to go back to the mountain with me until I get my winter gear. Credits drop in two days and we’ve already made plans to take a snowy hike, but until then I feel a bit stuck.
Neither of us have said anything about Khur since the day after the dinner party, either. I don’t want to come off as needy and desperate to my new friend, and I’m guessing he hasn’t said anything at all about me since she hasn’t brought it up.
On top of all that, I haven’t seen my dad since then either. I assume he’s staying in his room and avoiding me, which makes me both relieved and guilty. At least I know he isn’t starving in there, since the caloric count on the food machine reflects how much food is printedeach day. I meant what I said about not being his crutch anymore, but the guilt still gnaws at me.
All these thoughts swirl in my head today and try as I might, no amount of looking on the bright side can pull me out of my funk. I volunteered to pack orders as soon as I got into the supply station this morning, so I wouldn’t have to talk to customers. At least I am picking up the ins-and-outs of my fulfillment position rather quickly. Really, it’s just like any other store, once you get the hang of it. And it’s rather interesting to see the different types of tools all the species use for everyday chores. Like the Winged-Ones toothbrushes, for example. They are cylindrical tubes filled with fibers and they stick each tooth individually into the tube and spin it around to clean each pointy incisor.
I’m idly examining one of these tools when Furga pokes her head around the tall shelf bisecting the aisles. I pull my finger out and shove the toothbrush into the crate on the floating cart I’m using to pack orders.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You have a visitor.” She wiggles her ears in that adorable way I’ve come to associate with Dhugarens “winking” and takes off again before I can ask who would be visiting me. She’s pretty much my only friend here so far.
I make my way up the aisle, using the remote to push the cart in front of me. Standing on the other side of the counter, looking too damn hot for his own good, is Khur. He’s standing stiffly, making him look even taller and broader, and flexing his claws nervously. Inside my belly, butterflies of nervousness and wasps of angry indignation battle it out. I narrow my eyes at him as I approach the counter between us, letting the wasps, for the moment at least, win.
“Destiny. I came to invite you on a date,” he says formally, his tone matching his stiff stance.
That is… not what I expected.
“You ignored me for the last three days and now show up at my job… er… fulfillment position, to ask me on a date?”
He looks genuinely confused and his shoulders deflate just a fraction before he says, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was planning. I had to do research on how to court you. I’ve never met a human before you.”
That makes more sense than I want it to, and it is oddly sweet.
