Aliens on Vacation

by Clete Barrett Smith

  Finally, she reappeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel and shaking her head. “A total loss, I’m afraid. So much for my famous tofu-and-squash stuffing with brown rice and wild mushrooms.” She sighed. “All of this has become a bit too much for a one-woman show.” She stretched out both arms to indicate the entire bed-and-breakfast. “Especially when that one woman gets a little bit older each year.” She tilted her head and studied me. “But please, forgive my poor manners. May I help you? I assume you have been out visiting the town with your parents. Will they be back soon?”

  “No. No, it’s me. Scrub, er—David.” I wasn’t sure which name Dad had told her. Scrub is a pretty embarrassing name, obviously, but I couldn’t even remember the last time someone called me David.

  She just kept looking at me.

  “You know…your grandson,” I said. Man, she was even spacier than the decorations.

  Her eyes got round again. “But you weren’t supposed to be here until Tuesday.”

  “Well…I’m pretty sure that it is Tuesday.” Apparently there were no Earth calendars on Planet New Age Hippie.

  Grandma got a confused, faraway look in her eyes. Then she counted on her fingers and muttered something to herself that didn’t quite sound like English. Finally she snapped out of it. “How swiftly spins the wheel of the cosmos. Tuesday already.” She shook her head and that long hair waved back and forth. “I’ve been so busy lately that the days have raced by without stopping to say hello properly.”

  She looked at me and smiled again. “Oh, but it’s really you, then? How wonderful.” She threw both arms around me in a bear hug. She could really squeeze hard for someone with such skinny arms. I just kind of stood there. We’re not bear-huggers in my family. Not really human-huggers, either. “Please forgive me. I told you all of this was too much for a one-woman show.”

  Grandma stopped the hugging and stepped back, holding my face in her hands. This time it felt more normal. “But enough about my troubles; let’s get a good gander at you.” She peered at me through her pink lenses. “It’s a handsome young man you are, well and truly. Starting to look just like your father. Can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.” She stared at me like she was trying to memorize my face. It was a different feeling, to be looked at so carefully. Back home, everyone was so busy with their own stuff that I sort of felt invisible sometimes. Which was fine with me.

  Grandma was really smiling now, all of her teeth showing and her eyes bunched up. “Of course, the last time I saw you was at your first birthday party, so I guess it’s a good thing you’ve grown so much.” She laughed at her little joke. “And your name was David then, but now you go by…Scrub? That’s a colorful nickname. How did you get it?”

  Second grade. Our class production of Robin Hood. All the kids who didn’t want speaking parts—like me—were dressed up as trees. Except I was pretty short in grade school, and my mom had made the costume too small, so I was about half the size of the other trees. And on opening night, Tyler Sandusky’s older brother was in the front row. When I went onstage he said, loud enough for everyone in the first five rows to hear, “It’s supposed to be Sherwood Forest, not Sherwood Scrub Brush.” All of his stupid friends laughed. Tyler was there, and he laughed, too. Anyway, the name just kind of stuck. What also stuck was my determination never to open myself up to that kind of embarrassment again.

  “Oh, it’s not a nickname. It’s just…you know, something that everyone calls me.”

  “Well, I like it,” Grandma said. “And I’m a woman who understands the need to choose a title for yourself. When I went off to college I told everyone that my name was Sunshine. No one has called me Vernus Mae since, and thank the Creator for that.” She finally let go of my face. “Is Scrub what I shall call you?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.” At least I was used to it.

  “You can simply call me Grandma, if you don’t mind. I think I’d rather like that.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, after your big day of travel, I suppose you’d like something hot to eat before I start peppering you with more questions. I could sauté some gluten squares in soy sauce, and I think there’s some spinach salad left over, an offering fresh from the soil of Mother Earth—I have a vegetable garden right in the backyard.”

  Yikes. Not really what I’m used to. Back home, a delivery service drops off a load of “gourmet” frozen entrées the first Friday of each month. The chest freezer in the garage is full of them. Mom still writes out a note with the microwave instructions every morning and evening, even though I’ve been heating them up myself since about second grade.

  Grandma must have read my expression. “Or perhaps a bit of organic couscous with cucumber slices?”

  Oh, boy. I hope this town is at least big enough to have a McDonald’s. “Um, thanks, but actually I just need to use the bathroom, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course. Let me show you where—” Grandma was interrupted by several sounds. First, a door slammed upstairs, then a teakettle whistled and the phone rang, and then there was, I don’t know, kind of a wet squelching sound coming in through one of the windows. Grandma tried to look in four directions at once. “Great Galaxies, never a dull moment these days. I’m sorry—”

  “It’s okay, I’m sure I can find it.”

  Grandma smiled at me. “A fine young man and a charmer, Scrub, I can tell. It will be so good to have you here this summer.” She opened a cupboard and plucked one of several keys hanging from hooks. “Here you go. Room Two-C, upstairs. Settle in and make yourself comfortable. There’s a bathroom up there as well.” The phone rang again and the teakettle whistle became a screech. Something thumped upstairs. Grandma glided away, calling to me over her shoulder. “Sorry to run. I’ll check in with you soon.”

  Then she was gone, pushing through the swinging door into the kitchen. I grabbed my suitcase and hauled it up the hardwood staircase.

  The halls were long and narrow, with high ceilings. The space theme continued up here, every guest room door bordered by gray plastic panels with all kinds of fakey-looking knobs and switches, like they were supposed to be portals on a spaceship or something. Atop each door was a theme sign: welcome to the milky way! or blast off to the asteroid belt!

  I set down my suitcase in front of room 2c (the andromeda express!), then looked for the bathroom. I stopped at the first door without a room number. I knocked softly and called “Hello?” before easing the door open a crack.

  Whoa. There was something that looked kind of like a public men’s room urinal…but it was mounted on the ceiling. The sink was really low, practically on the ground. The claw-foot bathtub was tilted at a forty-five-degree angle and filled with what looked like super-foamy pink shaving cream.

  And the mess. Purple slime oozed out of the ceiling-urinal in long, goopy ropes, and an orange puddle with bright blue polka dots seeped out from under the sink.

  I had had to go to the bathroom pretty bad for over an hour, but I wasn’t even sure where I would start in here. Maybe this was taking the space theme a little too far?

  Grandma appeared behind me. “Oh, I’m sorry, Scrub, that’s supposed to be locked.” She grabbed the knob and shut the door. “That’s not a…well, that’s not a bathroom for you. Try the next door.” She nodded toward the adjacent door as she hurried down the hall and up the next staircase.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, there was a family of five approaching from the other end of the hall. On all fours. Seriously. All of them, the parents and the kids, were bear-walking down the hall, studying the floor like Sherlock Holmes.

  I scrunched up against the wall to give them room to pass, and walked quickly toward my room.

  The dad stopped and looked up at me, turning his head this way and that as I tried to rush by. He was wearing a huge pair of sunglasses, almost as big as those oversized novelty glasses you can win at carnival games. “Of course,” he said in a booming voice that was too loud for the hallway. I
froze. He grunted and pushed himself upright, then helped his wife and kids to their feet. “This is the way it is done here,” he bellowed at his family. “Remember for the outside.”

  They all stood on shaky legs, trying to stay balanced. Each family member wore a matching pair of those enormous sunglasses. The kids kept toppling over and the dad hoisted them upright again.

  When they had all managed to stay balanced for a few moments, they smiled and gave me double-armed waves before tottering drunkenly down the hall, arms outstretched to prevent them from crashing into the walls.

  I stayed very still until they rounded the corner, then hurried down to room 2c with my suitcase, fumbled with the room key, and closed the door firmly behind me. Man, this place was even weirder than I expected.

  I leaned back, letting the door support my weight. Could all of this be chalked up to the sci-fi oddball clientele? It seemed like…I don’t know, like something else.

  Maybe it was Washington State. After all, this was over three thousand miles from home. And these people lived in the wilderness. Things were bound to be different here.

  And then there was Canada. We were only a few miles from the border. I didn’t know much about Canadian culture, if there was such a thing. Maybe being so close, some of their customs had leaked across the international border, like osmosis.

  My eyes had been mindlessly drifting across the room as I came up with theories, but suddenly a terrible realization pulled me out of my thoughts.

  Room 2c had no TV.

  The space where the TV should have been, but was not, was enormous. I shifted my gaze all around the room, like maybe the TV was playing hide-and-seek.

  Then a truly horrible thought occurred to me. I opened my laptop and booted it up. I hit the “Connect to Internet” icon, and fifteen agonizing seconds later, got the dreaded news: No Wireless Connection Available. I checked my cell phone. No bars.

  How much worse could this summer possibly get?

  I think up until that moment I had been holding out hope that things could somehow work out.

  My shoulders slumped. When I dumped my clothes out of my suitcase, it felt like an admission of defeat, like I was officially surrendering any chance I had for a fun, or at least somewhat normal, summer.

  Something mounted on the wall caught my eye, a bronze plaque with the following message:

  House Rules for a Successful Visit

  1. Leave nothing behind

  2. Take nothing with you

  3. Dress appropriately

  4. Two arms, twolegs, onehead

  5. No harming the natives

  What? How could number four even be considered a rule? And No harming the natives??? Did that mean Native Americans? I had seen signs for Indian reservations on the bus ride here—Tulalip, Swinomish, Nooksack, Lummi—but I couldn’t imagine there would be a problem with people “harming” them on vacation.

  I shook my head, as if that would help clear my mind of everything I had seen. I didn’t want to get sucked into thinking about any of it. What went on here was none of my business anyway. If these people wanted a hokey outer-space adventure for their vacation, then let them throw their money away. As soon as I got out of here I wouldn’t have to think about it ever again.

  When my suitcase was empty I tried to stash it in the closet, but the door was locked. Everything else in this house was made of wood, but the closet door was a dull metallic color. Instead of a doorknob it had one of those big handles, like you see on heavy exterior doors at schools or office buildings. I jerked on it, but the door didn’t budge.

  I wondered if all the rooms were like this, or if Grandma just didn’t want me to mess with whatever she had stored in there. That would figure. Old people never really trust people my age. They’re always looking at kids suspiciously, even when we’re not doing anything wrong.

  I dropped my suitcase in the corner and just threw my clothes on top of it in a big pile. I wasn’t too worried about the mess. It’s not like my mom was going to show up anytime soon, and she never really noticed what my bedroom was like anyway.

  After that I opened up the window. Dusk had fallen and the air that flowed in was cool, raising goose bumps on my arms, but it was better than the stuffiness of the room.

  WhileI lookedover the front lawn, that sheriff’s car drove up again and parked out front. The sheriff stepped out, a big man with a round belly, and opened the car’s rear door. He pulled out the tall gray man in the old suit, then marched him up the walkway, stretching to hold him above the elbow like a principal taking an oversized kid to the office.

  I left my room and hustled along the corridor and down the stairs. Grandma was already at the door. The sheriff stood on the porch, his meaty hand still clamped on the tall guy. I hid behind a lamp and spied on the conversation.

  “—so sorry, Sheriff Tate. You have my assurances I’ll keep a better eye out,” Grandma was saying.

  “I’ve had plenty of your assurances lately,” Sheriff Tate said. “How many times am I going to have to escort him back here? And more and more of your customers have been causing problems in town lately.”

  “Causing problems? I hardly think so.”

  “This one talks so’s I could hardly understand him.”

  “I’m afraid that is not his fault. He is a foreigner and new to our language. Some people, Sheriff Tate, are aware of a world that exists outside of Forest Grove.” The sheriff turned red and started to say something at that, but Grandma cut him off. “Thank you for your time. Knowing how very busy you are, I extend to you all my sympathies. We won’t inconvenience you further.” She pulled Gray Man by the hand, but the sheriff kept his grip.

  “I’m afraid it’s a mite more than an inconvenience,” Tate said, obviously straining to keep up the show of politeness. “It’s also about public safety, ma’am.”

  “Public safety?” Grandma said. “Was he doing something illegal?”

  “Well…no, not exactly.” Tate cleared his throat. “But he was acting pretty strange. He was walking around the park, and…well, he was smelling things.”

  “I see,” Grandma said. “And are there rules about smelling things in the park? Perhaps a new city ordinance I am not aware of?”

  “No, there’s no law against smelling things at the park.” Tate glanced around the porch and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “But I…well, I guess I was worried about the children down there. They might have been spooked.”

  “Of course,” Grandma said. “We must protect the children. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to show him to his room.” She pulled more firmly on Gray Man’s hand. Finally, Tate released his grip, and Grandma yanked him inside.

  Tate pointed his ragged toothpick at Grandma. The thin layer of politeness died. “I’m getting tired of this. If I need to come back here one more time, I’m going to—”

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, thank you.” She shut the door. Right in his face. Grandma was a little tougher than I would have given her credit for.

  She led Gray Man to an easy chair and motioned for him to sit. She patted him on the back of his hand. “I hope that man didn’t frighten you.”

  The tall man’s eyes got squinty and his mouth scrunched up, like he was puzzling through something. It was a minute or so before he said, “I hold…much regret feeling. And the shame. Please to feel…forgiveness inside of you. For my actions.” His voice was gravelly and liquidy at the same time.

  Grandma smiled at him. “Of course, dear. Don’t you worry about that sheriff one bit.” She kept patting his hand. “Everyone deserves a nice, peaceful vacation, don’t they? And everyone deserves to be treated well, no matter how different they appear.”

  Gray Man finally lifted his head and spotted me standing in the corner. “Ah. This little man…I had a meeting with him before-time.”

  Grandma turned. “Well, hello, Scrub! I didn’t see you there. Please say hello to Mr. Harnox. He’s visiting with us.”

  “Hi,” I
said. Mr. Harnox nodded, but he still looked miserable after his encounter with the sheriff. I could relate—I’d be pretty freaked out if some cop were that mad at me, too. The gray man lowered his head and held it in his hands.

  Suddenly I remembered something that might cheer him up. I crossed to where I had left my carry-on bag by the front door and pulled out the weird-looking journal. I took a few steps toward Mr. Harnox. “Excuse me, but is this yours? I found it outside when you left.”

  The tall man lifted his head, and his eyes got really big. I think maybe he was trying to smile, but it was hard to tell, because his lips went kind of crooked, and his teeth were small and sharp and really far apart, so that was distracting. “Oh, many thanks and thanks of plenty to the little man.”

  Mr. Harnox grabbed the journal in one hand, then looked at his other hand for a moment before slowly stretching it out to me. I think he wanted me to shake it. He had these long, skeletal fingers that were constantly gnarling themselves into weird shapes. I shuddered a little, but hoped he didn’t notice. I didn’t want to be rude, so I forced myself to reach out and give him a quick shake. His hands were sort of moist and squishy.

  I quickly let go and looked up to see Grandma beaming at me. “That was very kind of you, Scrub. I know that Mr. Harnox’s journal is very important to him.” The gray man bobbed his head happily in agreement. “And after that unpleasant little visit from the sheriff, it’s such a comfort to know that there are those who can make others feel welcome here. I appreciate your helping to restore my faith in humanity.”

  I shrugged. That seemed a bit much for giving some guy a journal and shaking his hand. “No problem. Man, that sheriff was really hassling you.”

  “Oh, no matter. I’ve handled worse than him in my day,” Grandma said. She patted Mr. Harnox on the shoulder. “I’ll fix you something to eat. Would you care to join us, Scrub?”

  “I’ll probably just go to bed. I’m still on East Coast time.”