Braxx

by Cara Bristol

  “I’ve been in foster care since I was a baby,” he said. “I heard Minnie Maw and my social worker saying my birth mother had died of a drug overdose a few months ago, and now I’d be eligible for adoption.”

  “Adoption? What’s that?”

  “That’s how kids who don’t have families get parents.”

  “Thank the Fates!” I said, relieved he would have a mother and father to care for him.

  His little shoulders slumped. “Except people want babies, not older kids. And I have a learning disability. I should have been in the first grade, but I had to repeat kindergarten because I couldn’t keep up. I had trouble learning the alphabet. I get letters confused.”

  “I get letters confused, too.” I’d struggled to read and write the Dakonian language; unfamiliar English confounded me even more.

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No. I can’t read your language very well. A lot of the letters that are supposed to be different look the same to me.”

  We came to a fork in the path. The kits and adults had vanished. I’d been derelict in my duties. I was supposed to keep an eye on all the children, not just the one. But how could I have ignored Anthony’s needs?

  Arrows on a wooden sign pointed in two different directions. Mrs. Jennetta’s class was headed for a duck pond where the students would be learning about fowl, but the sign didn’t help.

  I scratched my head. “‘DROKE’S LOKE?’” What was a loke? My translator offered no meaning for the word, or for droke. “‘DOG PORK’” made no sense, either. Dog referred to a canine animal. A pet, not a stock animal that people ate. But pork referred to the meat of a pig, which people did eat.

  Anthony giggled. “I think dog pork is supposed to be dog park.”

  He was right. I laughed and mentally substituted an A for the O that I saw. “That makes more sense. Drake’s Lake is where we want to go, then. Isn’t drake a male duck?”

  “If you say so.”

  “Well, our other choice is the dog pork.”

  We laughed, and then I placed my hand on his shoulder and gestured in the direction of Drake’s Lake, which hopefully led to the duck pond. “This way,” I said. “We’d better hurry.”

  As we walked, Anthony quizzed me about Dakon.

  “Do you have ducks?”

  “No.”

  “Chickens?”

  I shook my head. “We have a bird called a phea.”

  “Dogs?”

  “No.”

  “Cats?”

  “No.”

  “Rabbits?”

  “No. Our harebit looks a little like a mix between your cat and your rabbit.”

  “Do you have kids?” Anthony asked.

  “On the planet or me personally?”

  “You.”

  “Not yet,” I answered. Holly came first, but next to her, I desired to have kits more than anything else in the world—than in two worlds. I’d left my home for a new planet where I would have a better chance of getting a female and having kits.

  “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Girlfriend?” He wrinkled his nose.

  I’d heard the male kits teasing the female kits of having cooties, which I ascertained was some sort of bug like head lice. I’d asked Mrs. Jennetta about it, and she’d assured me cooties did not exist. “It’s a boy thing,” she’d said. “They grow out of it. Girls cease having cooties when boys hit puberty.”

  On my planet, we did not distinguish between wife or girlfriend; they were one and the same—mate.

  “Both, actually,” I replied.

  His eyes widened.

  “But she hasn’t acknowledged me yet.”

  Anthony furrowed his little brow. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t, either,” I admitted.

  After a year of wooing Holly to get her to accept we were Fated mates, I’d achieved no progress. I’d actually lost ground. She’d told me to stop coming to the restaurant. How else was I supposed to see her? Maybe she believed I had cooties. I decided to stay away for a few days, hoping that absence would make her heart grow fonder. Besides, I never thought it could happen, but I’d grown tired of beef. I might have to switch to chicken or smoked turkey, although I wasn’t fond of fowl.

  Around a corner, we encountered two lone female kits who’d stopped to feed a squirrel part of their lunch. It was fortunate I’d happened upon them before they became lost—however, if I hadn’t stopped to assist Anthony, the opportunity for them to stray wouldn’t have arisen. Anthony asked to feed the squirrels, too. I allowed him a minute to do so then herded all three children up the path to emerge on a large open field. Under the sunlight, a large pond glinted, the clouds above reflected in the polished surface. Fowl I recognized as ducks, geese, and swans glided across the water.

  Away from the edge, the kits sat cross-legged on the grass, facing a man in a tan uniform and hat. The two mother helpers and Mrs. Jennetta observed from the side. Mrs. Jennetta spotted me and hurried over. “There you are! I was starting to get worried.”

  “My shoe got untied, and we had to feed the squirrels,” Anthony explained.

  “Children, go join the others, please. The ranger is waiting to start his program.”

  Anthony and the girls scampered off to rejoin their classmates.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” I said. “Anthony got to telling me about his lack of a family, and time got away from me. Did you know he doesn’t have a mother or a father?”

  She nodded. “It’s sad. He’s such a sweet kid, but, being in the system, I’m afraid the future doesn’t look bright. He was in my kindergarten class last year. He has a slight learning disability. If he’d gotten help at home, if they’d worked with him, he could have progressed to the next grade.” She lifted her shoulder. “But his foster parents either didn’t care or had too many other kids. No one showed up for his parent-teacher conferences. Since I’ve had him, he’s been bounced to three different foster homes.”

  “That would never happen on my planet.” I shook my head. In the unlikely circumstance a kit became orphaned, he’d be welcomed and appreciated by close relatives. There were no neglected children on Dakon. I frowned. “He said he had a big brother who wasn’t his brother but hopes to get another one?” I didn’t doubt what Anthony had told me, but I sought to understand.

  “He must mean Friend 2 Family. It’s an organization matching older kids and adults with younger kids in need.”

  “Can anybody become a big brother?”

  “Anyone can apply. Screening is rigorous. You can find the organization online if you’re interested. Are you thinking of volunteering?”

  I didn’t have a lot of free time. I still had to woo Holly so we could become mates and have kits. Sometimes I babysat Kord and Barb’s kit Clementine and took care of their cat, Boots. During the week, my job as Mrs. Jennetta’s aide kept me busy. But Anthony was starved for attention. He’d suffered so much loss in his short life. “Maybe I will.”

  Chapter Three

  Holly

  Where the hell was he? I scanned the restaurant floor through the window of Barb’s office. My gaze skidded off the vacant table, normally occupied by one particular customer with a standing reservation for 7:00 p.m. It was 6:30, but he always arrived early.

  “Spying on anyone in particular?” asked Barb as she fed her four-month-old daughter. I could see her reflection in the window. She cooed at the baby as she rocked in her swivel office chair. My chest tightened.

  “I’m not spying! I’m managing your business,” I said. Customers without reservations packed the vestibule. Tables were no sooner vacated than another customer slid into the spot. The seat didn’t even have time to cool off. I moved away from the window.

  “Why don’t you admit it? You like him.”

  “Like who?”

  Barb made a wry face over the top of Clementine’s head. She rubbed the
baby’s back, and Clementine let out a loud belch. I resumed my observation of the floor, focusing on the entrance. Where is he? Did I get through to him? Or did something happen? In a year, he’d never missed a dinner. What if he’d been in an accident? He didn’t drive, but his Uber could have crashed.

  If I’d learned anything since Braxx had started stalking me, it was that he was a creature of habit. He never missed a night, arrived early, always ordered the same meal—the cattleman’s beef brisket dinner (hold the sauce), a pint of dark beer, and an ice cream sundae for dessert—and then stared up at the office until I caved and went to talk to him. Except he’d changed his pattern. He hadn’t ventured in in three days. Thank goodness. Still, it was nerve-racking waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could pop in at any time.

  Barb’s chair squeaked as she buttoned up her denim vest then wiped little Clementine’s face. “It would be nice if my best friend and my brother-in-law called a truce.”

  “We’re not fighting.”

  “Well, he isn’t, anyway.”

  “I’m not, either!” I said. “I don’t care enough about him to fight.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  I bit my tongue, refusing to rise to the bait. She should talk. I vividly recalled how she’d insisted she harbored no feelings for a hot Dakonian named Kord—Braxx’s brother—but I—and everyone else at work—had suspected she had. Time had proven us right. The two of them had mated, married, bought a house in the suburbs, and had a daughter. They’d even adopted a cat.

  However, when I said Braxx meant nothing to me—I meant it. There would be no mating, no marrying, no rancher in the burbs, no pets, no kids.

  My apron pocket began to play and vibrate. I dug out my phone then twisted my mouth in annoyance at the unfamiliar number on the screen. “Damn robocallers!” I swore and swiped the call into no-man’s-land.

  “I hate those calls,” Barb commiserated.

  “Hate them with a passion,” I said. “My roboblocker stops most of them, but too many slip through. I answered a couple by accident, and the calls multiplied when they realized they had an active number. Now, if I don’t recognize the number, I don’t pick up. I banish them.”

  “Don’t you worry you’ll miss an important call?”

  “Hasn’t happened yet.”

  “That you know of.”

  I shrugged. “If it’s important, they’ll call back or text me.”

  I’d no sooner dropped my phone into my apron pocket than it rang again. I checked the screen. “I have to take this one.” I moved off to the side.

  My heart pounded in my ears, but I tried to sound normal. “This is Holly.”

  “This is Dr. Lipscombe.”

  “I didn’t expect a call this time of day.” Doctors were long gone by this hour.

  “The lab report landed on my desk this afternoon. I knew you were anxious about the results, so I wanted to call you as soon as possible.”

  Bad news. If it had been good news, she would have led with that.

  “I’m sorry, Holly. There’s been no change.”

  She sounded so concerned, I sought to reassure her. “It’s all right. I expected as much,” I said, blinking back tears. Nothing had changed, so it shouldn’t feel like a loss all over again, except it did. I never should have had those tests. Should have left well enough alone. But after the passage of years, I’d thought, what if? What if the problem magically had fixed itself? People claimed to have experienced miracles. Why couldn’t I have one?

  And when Braxx started showing interest—no, this had nothing to do with him. Nothing.

  “Thank you for calling. I appreciate it,” I said and disconnected.

  “Everything okay?” Barb asked.

  “Fine.” I forced a smile.

  “You look a bit upset.”

  “I’m not upset.” I schooled my features to blandness. “Shouldn’t you be leaving?” I asked. “Isn’t this your big date night?”

  Since Clemmy had come into the world, Barb and Kord hadn’t had any time alone, so a lot rode on their first date night. The busy parents would get some needed uninterrupted adult conversation, and Barb’s mom would get to spend time with her granddaughter. Barb’s history with Mrs. Quintain was rocky, but there was no better grandmother than a reformed crappy mother. I think Mrs. Quintain saw her time with Clemmy as a do-over, and she applied herself to the project like nobody’s business.

  “Yep. Here. Hold Clemmy while I collect her stuff.” Toys and blankets were scattered around the office. Before I could utter a word, Barb shoved her baby into my arms.

  No change. No change. Dr. Lipscombe’s words rang in my ears. No change, except Braxx had deviated from his pattern, and I had an infant in my arms. I squeezed my lids shut and held Clemmy away from me. She smelled like powder, baby shampoo, and sweet infant. Sugar and spice and everything nice…I opened my eyes to find the baby giving me the once-over. She was a beautiful little girl, her eyes big and blue, her gummy smile wide, her little face plump, her scalp near bald. Barb kept brushing the wisps of hair into a comb-over, trying to fluff it up. Once it grew in, her hair would be dark like her daddy’s.

  But she had her mom’s disarming smile—and her direct stare. I swear the kid was challenging me. Cuddle me. You know you want to, Clementine seemed to be saying. I forced myself to make eye contact. “Coochy coo,” I deadpanned.

  Barb tossed baby items into a ginormous bag, hefted it on her shoulder, and reached out. “Here. I’ll take her now.”

  “I’ll trade you,” I said. “Give me the bag. I’ll carry it to the car for you.” I worried about Barb lugging baby and bag down the office stairs. She wouldn’t be able to see her feet. What if she missed a step? I handed over her daughter and took the bag. I peeked out the window then at the time. Seven o’clock. Not here. Good. Coast was clear; I could exit. I led the way to the parking lot. Where the hell is he?

  Chapter Four

  Braxx

  When I’d arrived on Earth and needed a place to live, I’d bunked at the IDA barracks with other aliens from across the galaxy. Then my brother and I started hanging out at the Stellar Dust Bin, a tavern frequented by extraterrestrials, so I assumed I had seen everything and couldn’t be surprised.

  The alien who slid onto the barstool next to me had me gawking like a kit. Besides two hearts, I could see the other organs inside his chest cavity: lungs, liver, stomach, and quivering viscera I didn’t recognize. Blue-green blood coursed through vessels underneath skin as clear as plastic wrap. His bones were also transparent. I didn’t think he had a skeleton until he shifted and the light glinted off the structure and the muscles attached to them.

  He raised a finger, tipped by a suction cup. “Barkeep—a rosé spritzer, please,” he requested in a singsong voice.

  “Alar, haven’t seen you in a while,” said the bartender, a fellow Dakonian. After tilting his head from side to side and then rubbing his neck, Aton grabbed a bottle of blush wine from the refrigerator and half-filled a glass from the overhead rack. With a hose, he shot in club soda to three-quarters full, wedged a crescent of lime onto the edge, and pushed the glass across the counter.

  “My studies have been keeping me busy,” Alar said.

  “What are you studying?” I had to ask.

  “Humans,” he replied. “I observe their social interactions. Their behavior is fascinating. They are childlike in many ways yet crafty in others. They are masters of denial and self-sabotage.” He fixed his gaze on me. I could see the vessels inside his eyes. “I’m a social anthropologist.” As he sipped the spritzer, the pinkish liquid slid down his throat into his stomach.

  “They don’t mind you watching?” I asked.

  Aton filled a mug with Dakonian ale and shoved it toward me. I took a big gulp and nearly spit it out as Alar faded away, becoming invisible. Only the goblet hovering above the bar top indicated he was still here. Little by little, his form assumed solid state. “Th
ey’re not aware they’re under observation,” he said.

  “Alar is a Somarin.” Aton rubbed his neck while rolling his shoulder.

  “You seem to be in pain,” Alar commented.

  “It’s nothing. I woke up with a stiff neck.”

  “May I?” Alar set his glass down, slid off the stool, and rounded the bar then placed his hands on the sides of Aton’s face. He had six suction-cupped digits on the right hand, four on the left, but he didn’t seem to be missing fingers. Rather, it appeared his anatomy was just the way nature had created him. After about three seconds, he released him. “That ought to fix it. Better?”

  Aton moved his head from shoulder to shoulder. “Yes! The pain is gone. Thanks!”

  Alar resumed his seat next to me.

  “How did you do that?” I asked.

  “Trade secret.” Alar winked. “Actually, the Chinese humans who discovered chi thousands of years ago are on the right track. I figure in another few thousand years they’ll have it figured out.”

  I had no idea what chi was, and I had a hunch Aton didn’t either, but he nodded. I spotted my brother entering the tavern, and I waved him down. “Over here!”

  “Hey, brother!” Kord slapped me on the back then took the vacant seat on my right.

  “Drink?” Aton filled a tankard with Dakonian ale and set it in front of Kord.

  “Thanks!”

  “Have you met Alar?” I asked my brother.

  He peered around me, and his eyes widened slightly. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Alar, this is my brother Kord. Kord, this is Alar. He’s a Somarin.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Kord nodded.

  “An honor,” Alar said. He took a sip of his drink, and I couldn’t help but watch it go down. “So what brings you two gentlemen to Earth?”

  “Females,” I replied. “We don’t have enough of them on Dakon. Our people are in danger of extinction. We came to Earth through the Intergalactic Dating Agency. Kord—and Aton—have successfully found females and mated, but I’m still…working on it.”