Al
The worst part of being human, Al decided, was crying.
He could not, for the life of him, figure out the purpose. For infants, perhaps, it was useful, as they had no other means of communication, but for grown adults it seemed pointless. He had witnessed humans crying on entertainment programs, but he’d always thought it was for dramatic effect—he’d had no idea that it was also an involuntary action.
And how insufferably involuntary it was.
It had been nearly a full day, and he had not stopped crying. His nose was stuffy, his eyes swollen and damp, his cheeks flushed red, and his head hurt.Whydid crying cause humans’ heads to hurt? What was the evolutionary advantage? Wasn’t sadness horrible enough on its own without tears, snot,andheadaches making it all so much worse?
It was getting to a point where he was considering reverting back to his real form just to make it stop, except Jude had instructed him to not ever do that when he was on Earth, even if he thought he was alone, just in case. He’d said he hadn’t wanted to risk Al getting hurt by having his secret get out, but honestly? Could Al really trust what Jude had to say anymore? More than that—did he care? After all, the only human to have hurt him thus far was Jude.
However, the answer, of course, was yes. Yes, he did care, quite ardently, and that was what made it all so awful. That was what made him cry and cry and cry.
This was, he realized, what humans meant by the term “broken heart.”
Al curled up into a tight ball on the living room couch. He had successfully managed to avoid Jude before he left to go to his classes for the day. He knew that he also should go to campus to work on his communication device, especially since current circumstances seemed to warrant a speedier-than-expected exit off the planet, but he simply couldn’t find the motivation between the bouts of tears. Instead, he had taken from the refrigerator an aerosol can that was labeled “whipped dessert topping” and a large bag of potato chips, and was currently squeezing globs of the whipped topping onto each chip and stuffing them into his mouth as he sobbed.
“Hey, buddy? You doin’ okay?” Ezra’s voice startled Al. Ezra was what Jude referred to as a “night owl” and was asleep most of the day, so Al had not mentally prepared himself to interact with him.
Al glanced over the back of the couch at Ezra, who was leaning against the doorframe to his room, arms crossed over the chest of his sleeveless jersey. Upon it was printed a single word: “SPORTS,” and below that was printed the number “69.”
“I feel all right, Ezra,” Al said, voice watery as he struggled to control his sobbing. Ezra raised an eyebrow and gave Al a good looking-over. Al considered his fetal position on the couch covered in potato chip crumbs and discerned that his lie had not been successful.
“You sure about that?” Ezra asked calmly, and Al burst into a fresh wave of tears.
“No, I was telling a lie,” Al wailed miserably. “I do not feel all right, Ezra.”
Ezra nodded soundly, as though this was the response he’d been searching for.
“Okay,” he said decisively. He walked over and sat at the opposite end of the couch near Al’s feet. He snagged a handful of potato chips from the bag and, through his chewing, added, “Tell me what’s got you all upset.”
Al mulled over his response. There were only so many details he could give to Ezra without revealing his secret, and it was becoming more and more of a nuisance. Just like how he wanted to shift into his real form, part of Al wanted to simply tell Ezra everything from start to finish. It was an understandable impulse. Quite literally the only person on Earth who knew who Al really was no longer felt like a safe person to confide in, and he was desperate to confide in another.
He knew better, though. His emotions were strong, but he would not “lose his head” as the nonsensical English idiom went.
So instead of spilling everything to Ezra right then and there, Al sniffled and asked earnestly, “What does one do when they feel love for someone who does not feel love for them in return?”
“Ah,” Ezra said. He settled in on the couch, his arms spread out across the back, and plopped his socked feet on the object they called a “coffee table” despite there rarely ever being coffee in, on, or around it. “So this is about you and Jude, then. What’d that dummy do now? Did you have that conversation with him about your insecurities, like we talked about?”
“Yes, and I did not feel happiness during it, and I have not felt happiness since. I believe I have a broken heart. I have heard hu—I have heard people who speak English refer to broken hearts, but I have not experienced the sensation before now.”
“That probably means you’ve never been in love before now, then,” Ezra said with a sad smile.
“No,” Al agreed, brushing his damp cheeks with the hem of his equally damp shirt. “I have not.” A thought came to him then. He glanced at Ezra and asked, “Haveyoufelt a broken heart before?”
“Mm, unfortunately yeah, I have. Only once, which I guess I should be grateful for, but still, once felt like more than enough.”
“What occurred? Or wait, is that one of those questions I am not supposed to ask, like when I asked the old woman at the park how she managed to become so elderly given that most humans die before they reach her age?”
“Didn’t you also ask her if she was sure she was using the right calendar to track her years on Earth, because maybe she had counted wrong?”
“I did not realize the question would cause her to feel such anger.” Al frowned a little and rubbed his shin absently, feeling the phantom pain of the bruise left by the thwapping he’d gotten from that woman’s cane.
“They really do have different customs where you’re from, huh?” Ezra asked.
“Yes, Greece and Alberkerkakay are very different places.”
“Uh-huh.” Ezra raised an eyebrow at Al, expression inscrutable, and laughed when Al merely frowned in response. “Anyway,” he declared with a clap of his hands. “No, it’s not inappropriate to ask me what happened with my ex. Or at least, I don’t mind, and that’s what matters. Other people might react differently. Corbinlovesto talk shit about everyone he’s ever dated, so feel free to ring him up later for heartbreak deets if you’re still in need of solidarity.”
