“Thanks, Al,” Jude said quietly. “Just promise me one thing, though.”
“What thing?”
“Please, for the love of god, do not mention anything to my parents about mating.”
10
Jude
The absolute dumbassery of the situation finally hit Jude when he pulled into the restaurant parking lot and realized his parents had chosen Mexican food. There was no way in hell Al would be able to fake being even remotely normal if he was discovering the Spanish language for the first time.
“This is going to be a disaster,” he said, hands still clenching his steering wheel as he stared blankly out of the windshield, thinking about all the different horrible ways the evening could go. “My parents are going to be so passive-aggressive and my brother is a jackass. This is a horrible idea. We should leave and just have Ezra call them and tell them we were in an accident and died. Or maybe we could go get into an actual accident. We’d never have to worry about dinner with my family again if we were dead.”
“It is a believable lie since statistically it becomes more and more probable that you will die in your very bad vehicle every time you use it,” Al said, seeming to consider it. “But I do not think it is a smart idea. It is difficult to lie about being dead. On my planet, I had a relative who became very wealthy by selling counterfeit wormhole jumpdrive engines that were bad, which caused several people to become lost forever in interdimensional liminal space. Trapping others in another dimension is punished by either also being trapped in another dimension or being fed to the Sand Dwellers. When the authorities found out that my relative was doing these crimes, my relative pretended to die, but really he had gone to hide with the Aquatic Beasts. The Aquatic Beasts are an intelligent and regal species, but they are very proud and do not feel affection for liars. They discovered that he had made a pretend identity to hide the fact that he was a criminal on land, and so they removed his genitalia for one of their rituals honoring their gods, and then returned him to the land where he was sent through a wormhole and lost to time and space forever.”
Jude blinked at Al.
“Do not feel worry, he is bonded into the family. His blood is not my blood. His bad decisions do not affect my, what do you call them in English? Magnetics?”
“I think you mean genetics.”
“Ah, yes, this is the word. Genetics. All of my relatives that share my blood are not criminals and are also healthy. Well, one of my mother’s sisters has only three arms, but that is a rare anomaly and also humans only have two and manage to do life without too much inconvenience, even if it is not very efficient. You can feel assurance that I have good genetics.”
“… Right.” Jude knitted his eyebrows together. “Glad to hear you’ve got a healthy bloodline. Consider me assured.”
“Darvrokian genetics are often dominant in comparison to other species, as well. I should make sure you know that.”
“Why should you—you know what? Never mind.” While Jude usually tried his best to figure out what the fuck Al was talking about when their topic of conversation took a turn for the weird, Jude was too preoccupied with his current crisis to deal with decoding alien thought patterns. “Thank you for letting me know,” he said, letting it go. “I guess the moral of that story was that I probably shouldn’t fake my death, huh?”
“Or tell lies to Aquatic Beasts.”
“Or that. I prefer my genitalia the way they are.”
“I also feel preference for your genitalia in its current state,” Al agreed with a solemn nod. Jude laughed despite himself.
“C’mon, nerd,” he said affectionately, reaching over and patting Al’s knee. “Let’s get this over with. Oh, but two things. First”—he held up one finger—“remember, no mating talk, and second”—he held up another—“if you have any questions or comments about Spanish, save them for when we get home.”
* * *
Jude’s parents were already seated by the time Jude and Al entered the restaurant, because of course they were. Jude had made it a point to arrive early, wanting to be the first to sit, because he knew the moment his parents spotted him, they were going to—
“Oh, hello, Jude,” said his mother as the hostess brought them around the corner and showed Jude and Al to their seats. “We were wondering when you’d show up.”
Yeah, he’d called it. Not even ten seconds in, and she was already tearing into him. Sure, he wasn’t the best at replying to her texts and, yeah, he’d canceled their dinner plans more often than not, but who could blame him? She didn’t exactly make their nights out something he looked forward to. When they got together, she wasted no time in pointing out his every flaw, demerit, and personal shortcoming in the most aggravating way possible. Jude very rarely left one of their “get-togethers” feeling good about himself.
But here he was, seeing her anyway.
And in a record-breaking two sentences, she already had him feeling like shit.
“Nice to see you, too,” he said flatly, sliding into his seat and motioning for Al to take the one beside him. The hostess set menus down in front of them, and Jude made a point to thank her. His parents certainly would not.
A lull in the conversation followed, likely because his mother did not want to come across full Wicked Witch of the West when strangers could overhear. During the brief moment of respite, Jude—wanting very badly not to engage with his family—cast a quick glance around to familiarize himself with his surroundings. In the very likely case he’d need to fake food poisoning, the flu, or total mental collapse, he wanted to have at least a couple pre-established escape routes in place. Unfortunately, the restaurant wasn’t set up to help cornered college-age disappointments flee into the night, but the time Jude spent looking around was not wasted. The restaurant was quite aesthetically pleasing, and it pinged the pleasure centers of his art brain, prompting him to forget the uncomfortable situation he found himself in for a bit while he took a closer look.
Even in the low lighting, it was clear whoever had decorated this place had done so with a careful eye to detail—the green, white, and red of the Mexican flag was tastefully incorporated throughout the dining room, from the centerpieces on each table, to the uniforms worn by the wait staff, to the selection of tall potted plants in the corners. It gave the impression of being thematic without being tacky—which in Jude’s opinion was a fine line to straddle—and had heart most corporate environments lacked, almost like someone’s abuela had been let loose upon this place, hemming and hawing and tweaking all the little details until they were just right.
And there was no better sign of the love and care invested in the restaurant than the hand-painted mural on the wall across from Jude, depictingvaquerosriding horses through the desert at sunset, dust clouds kicked up behind them as the horses galloped across the land. Even from where he sat, Jude couldn’t help but notice the mural’s masterful brushstrokes and how brilliantly the artist had captured the essence of objects in motion. He felt compelled to point it out—art was meant to be appreciated, after all, and this mural truly was worthy of the attention—but he knew if he said anything about it, it would give his parents way too much ammunition. All they’d hear was how he was wasting his time on things that didn’t matter, throwing his life away for an art education that should have been left a hobby.
Al would listen, though.
