In a Most Peculiar Way

The astronaut didn’t know where she was.

The smooth-walled corridor stretched out in front of her like a long white throat. Clumsy in her bulky spacesuit, bolted down by the planet's gravity, the astronaut inched along the passage, noting the images and runes that suggested intelligent life. The structure opened up into a wider chamber, with tall glass displays showing a bleak, white sky.

An alien appeared.

Covered in unkempt patches of dark brown fur, the alien stepped in from another portal off the esophageal corridor. It paused, balancing a vessel of steaming liquid in one gold-adorned hand. He pushed a pair of glasses up his nose and sighed, “Oh, shit, it’s gonna be one of them days.”

Sensing she was in no immediate danger, the astronaut stumbled through the intergalactic signals she knew. She needed fuel if she was going to get home, and was in the process of expressing this when the alien turned and walked away. It came back a moment later, offering up a precarious vessel of honey-colored liquid. “It’s okay; just try and relax. We’ll take the dog out.”

Something attacked the astronaut from behind!

Fighting to stay upright, the astronaut turned to confront the feral creature. Its diminutive figure slammed against her legs, and it wrapped boney tentacles around the astronaut’s waist. A pink maw full of jagged teeth leered up at her, slick with corrosive drool. "Love you!"

As the astronaut stumbled back from the assault, the dark-haired alien pried the creature from her spacesuit. The little parasite immediately latched on to this new target as the alien stroked the short patch of yellow fuzz on the creature’s head. “We love you too, bud. Go get your shoes on, okay?” The creature detached and ran off.

Some of the liquid gift had sloshed and splattered onto the floor. It was hard to clutch in the astronaut's oversized gloves, and though she suspected it was meant to be consumed, nothing would compel her to remove her helmet before completing a full scan for microbes and radiation. The dark-haired alien donned a protective covering over his patchy hide, glancing sideways at the astronaut and pushing up his glasses. Although she offered an instinctive smile, the astronaut's mirrored visor hid her expression from the alien’s view.

Thumping down the corridor, the pink-tentacled creature returned. It was accompanied by a slightly smaller life form with similarly yellow fur, covering it completely from panting snout to wagging tail. The life form trotted up to the astronaut, and snuffled its nose against the spacesuit’s padded knee.

“Hey! Come on!” The dark-furred alien clicked a tether onto the small life form, and pulled it away as it complained in a high-pitched growl. “We’ll be right back.”

The creature with the gap-toothed grin shook a pink starfish appendage in the astronaut’s direction. “Bye-bye!”

All three perplexing monsters stepped through a bright portal, and sealed it behind themselves, plunging the chamber into still silence.

Carefully, the astronaut set the mystery liquid down on the closest flat surface. She took cautious steps toward the portal, but the closer she got to it, the slower she moved. Some gravitational abnormality or condensing atmosphere was sapping the energy from her suit, dragging at her sluggish soles. In the interest of science, the astronaut retreated from the dread portal, and noted the pressure lifting as she withdrew.

Marooned as she was, the astronaut applied herself to studying the strange nature of the alien domicile. Just like the hall, the chamber’s walls were adorned with rectangular images, the largest of which was a uniform flat black. In the alcove where the alien host had procured the steaming liquid, the astronaut discovered a tall metal box, studded with magnetic tiles. An experimental press of the box’s lever caused it to groan and spit out glassy white crescents all over the white tile floor.

Pulling a large handle, the astronaut discovered a drawer at the bottom of the box. Aside from bags of green spheres and tiny beige dinosaurs, there was a glass bottle of clear liquid. Scans indicated the contents had a high percentage of flammable ethanol.

Fuel!

There was commotion in the other chamber. The tail-wagging life form appeared, sniffing and snuffling along the floor, quickly followed by the parasitic creature, who laughed and latched on to the yellow fur. The dark-haired alien turned the corner, and stopped in its tracks, eyes widening when he saw the fuel in the astronaut’s hand.

“Sam, go to your room.”

“What’s wrong, Da—”

“Now, Sam!”

The little creature, for the first time, retracted its tentacles. It shrank in on itself as it fled the alcove, moisture gathering in its eyes. The dark alien crossed the tile floor in a few long strides, snatched the bottle from the astronaut’s glove, and propelled it into a plastic receptacle. The yellow life form made sharp, yapping protests, but the alien ignored it, grasping the astronaut by her insulated shoulders.

“Help me!” the alien insisted, hissing through clenched teeth. “Tell me what you need!”

The incessant yapping stole the astronaut’s attention, and she couldn’t remember the intergalactic sign for fuel, escape velocity, going home. The alien searched her opaque helmet, trying to see beyond the visor, but his species had never evolved x-ray eyes. Letting go of the spacesuit, the alien scooped up the little blond life form, and carried it out to a portal made of glass.

The astronaut felt she’d overstayed her welcome on this planet. While the alien was distracted, she made her way back down the yawning corridor, looking for her point of origin. Or, failing that, a way out.

At the end of the esophagus was another chamber, this one dominated by a square platform. Like the other areas, this one was bedecked with rectangular images, the largest hanging from the opposite wall. The astronaut squinted at the face of a woman.

The sun was shining on her glossy hair. Her smiling eyes turned skyward. The alien and the parasite each kissing either cheek. The man. Her boy.

The astronaut laid a hand upon her swollen belly. The spacesuit simply melted away.

* * *

Adam spent some time speaking quietly to Sam, apologizing for yelling, acknowledging how scary it had been, and that none of it was Sam’s fault. Even promising that everything was going to be alright. He told Sam that Mommy was just confused, and needed a little time to herself today. Then he kissed Sam’s little blond head, thanked him for being a brave little soldier, and said he could watch Finding Nemo for eight millionth time.

The hall stretched away from Adam, long and dark, dotted with pictures of people he no longer knew. He wanted to break. He wanted to fish the vodka out of the garbage and put it all to ill-advised use. He wanted to open up the sliding door, soak up the blithe, slobbery forgiveness of the amnesiac Pomeranian, and then just walk out the back gate of this perplexing life. He took off his glasses, closed his eyes. Breathed. And opened up the bedroom door.

Dorothea was lying on the bed. She was staring at the ceiling, her glossy hair all around her in a halo, and her hands pressed against the curve of her pregnant belly. Eighteen dismal weeks.

Climbing into the bed beside her, Adam put his glasses down on the nightstand. “Where are you?”

“I was on another planet. Floating through space.” Turning to him, Dorothea whispered, “Is Sam okay?”

“He’s okay,” Adam said. “He’s tough. And he loves you.”

"I was trying to get home." A glassy tear rolled away from her eye. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Adam put a hand on her round center of gravity. About the size of a bell pepper, the doctors say. “You had to quit the meds to keep the baby.”

“Not really a choice.”

“We didn’t plan on two kids.”

“And now, you’re taking care of three.”

"That's not true." The image flashed through Adam's mind of a science fair diorama, all cardboard and glitter and viscous globs of cold hot glue. Rectangular images speared on shish kabob sticks, not to scale with the millions of represented miles, in static orbit around a bell pepper sun. "I don't mind taking care of you. I can't stand when I can't reach you. When I'm looking right at you, and you are not there."

Adam wrapped his arms around his wife, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, breathing in the soft scent of her hair. “Just come back to me. I can take it, when you go wherever you need to go. I can take care of all this while you’re away. But please, please, please, come back to me. Don't make me do this alone."

For a moment, the room was quiet and still. Adam wished he could stay there, wrapped in tranquil darkness, entwined with his wife as they floated through space. But the dog needed feeding, the fish tale was at an end, and a little bell pepper was swimming toward life.

Dragging himself off the mattress, Adam paused at the door. “I love you.” He pushed his glasses into place. “Do you hear me?"

But the astronaut was far, far away.