Granola Bars and Spaceships

by Geneva Vand

  One quickly-microwaved beef stew later, Eric was back at his desk. He managed to pay attention to what he was doing this time, and quickly finished the stack of backlogged emails. Then it was on to general housekeeping and vetting catalog additions.

  He got the bulk of it done in time to spend a few minutes checking in with the desk staff before heading out for the day.

  Eric dithered for a moment once he got to the sidewalk. One of the things he'd been distracted by all day was food. Did he have anything the alien would eat? Hell, he didn't even know if they had eaten what he'd left on the table. He tried to remember what he had in the cupboards and fridge but drew a blank. He'd been out of town anyway, and hadn't really gone shopping since getting home from camping. It followed that the fridge would be mostly empty. So he'd go to the grocery store.

  Mind made up, he headed down the sidewalk. What should he get? Other than apple juice. Eric smiled, remembering the carefully abandoned juice boxes. Maybe milk then? He needed milk anyway. Soda? Some of that flavored water crap?

  The automatic doors opened in front of him and Eric stepped into the air-conditioned store. Before he'd known he was feeding an alien, he'd been buying out the granola bar aisle. Maybe he'd start there. Deciding that was as good of a plan as any, he grabbed a cart and headed for the breakfast section. He grabbed up three boxes of granola bars, two that he'd fed them before and one new. He remembered seeing the empty Craisin bag and added some of those as well. On impulse, he chose a small container of oatmeal. That would be something warm to eat, and they could add the Craisins if they wanted.

  He stood to the side of the aisle and looked at the meager contents of the cart. That wasn't enough. Or it wasn't good enough. What did Humans eat when they were injured and felt like shit? Crackers? Soup? Soup would be good.

  That was on the other side of the store, so Eric did his own shopping on the way, trying to remember that he would have to carry it home on the bus. Or should he just call a cab? No. It was expensive and he might have to come back this weekend anyway after he figured out what the alien ate. He looked at the cart again and shrugged. Totally doable by bus, even after adding a half dozen or so cans of soup.

  He got a half gallon of milk and turned down the appropriate aisle. And then he stood and stared for way too long. What kind of soup? Crap.

  He'd stay away from meat for now because he just didn't know. And tomato seemed like a bad guess. Eric shrugged and grabbed a few of his favorite vegetarian varieties at random. It wasn't like deeper thought was going to make it more likely he'd be right. He didn't know enough to debate the matter. He tossed in a small box of saltines just for giggles and called it a day.

  *~*~*

  The lines were long enough at the checkout that Eric almost missed his bus. It wouldn't have been a huge inconvenience at this time of day, but he was happy not to have to sit around for an extra twenty minutes. He shoved the bags in the empty seat next to him and ignored the few people that bothered to glare at him. The bags wouldn't fit on his lap and he couldn't sit on them.

  His commute went by in a haze of distraction. All too soon Eric was standing in front of the door to his basement apartment wondering what he would find when he opened it. Blowing out a breath, he juggled bags and keys until he could shove the door open.

  He stopped just inside the door, both surprised and not at the same time. He wasn't sure if he had expected the alien to be gone or not, but there they were.

  He had a clear view of the couch from the door. The alien was curled up on their side on the couch, hands tucked under their cheek while they slept.

  Eric blinked. They were almost... cute. The image was a little surreal, with the iridescent not-feathers and the unusual features. But it was also cute. The ears helped. The fluffy tip of one was poking out from under their fingertips. The other was standing up on the side of their head. The not-feathers in the tuft at the tip quivered slightly in the breeze from the door. As Eric watched, the ear twitched like a cat's.

  He smiled and tried to sneak into the kitchen to put away the groceries. Unfortunately, he made too much noise. Eric saw the alien stretch slowly and sit up, revealing that they had decided to try out the sweater and pants. They watched quietly as Eric bumbled his way into the kitchen. He quickly put away the few perishables and went back into the other room.

  Eric stood on the other side of the coffee table, awkwardly silent. He realized the plate he’d left was empty except for crumbs and grape stems. He sighed in relief. If nothing else, he'd be able to feed them sandwiches and grapes, then.

  When Eric looked back at the alien, they smiled at him and made a small chirping sound while pointing to the plate. The sound seemed pleased, so that was good, right?

  "It was good? You liked it?" Eric asked.

  The alien nodded, smiling again. A large yawn interrupted them, and Eric smiled. Yup. Definitely kind of cute.

  "Are you hungry? I can make you something. I got a few things at the store that I thought you might be able to eat."

  More nods and a small smile. The alien clasped their hands in their lap and watched Eric.

  "Um. Okay. I'll just, ah, go fix something for us, then?" Eric turned to go, but the alien made a sharp click behind him. Eric turned around and waited.

  The alien made a musical trill, a sound that somehow sounded like a question. Eric blinked, charmed by the surprising sound, then took a moment to shift through the million things they could be asking about and picked the most likely. "What am I going to make?"

  They shook their head and pointed at Eric.

  Eric frowned. "Me?"

  They nodded, pointing at Eric again.

  "Um. My name is Eric Harris. You would just call me Eric."

  The alien nodded and moved their hands in a little continue motion.

  Eric shrugged. Not sure what else the alien would want to know. "I'm a library branch manager. I work downtown." He shrugged when the alien requested more. "I'm a Human?" The nodding was more sincere now, and Eric thought he might be getting a clue. "Ah. I'm a Human male. I'm black. Um. Thirty-two years old, which I guess would be middle-aged?"

  The alien tilted their head to one side. It made them look even more birdlike, and Eric grinned.

  "Middle-aged?" he asked. When the alien chirped cutely, he hummed a little. "I guess it's not old, but not young, not a kid anymore. Grown up, but not old?"

  The alien straightened their head and nodded, gesturing again for Eric to continue.

  Eric shrugged. "I'm not sure what else to tell you. We're in a Human city. You're in my apartment, not very far from where I found you. You were injured and sort of unconscious. My friend Will he helped me bring you home." The alien looked alarmed at that, and Eric rushed to continue. "No! No, it's fine. He's fine. He won't hurt you or tell anyone you're here. He helped me take care of you. He wants to meet you."

  The alien stared intently at Eric for a moment before relaxing into the couch. They yawned again, sort of pulling the blanket up around themselves. They sighed and watched Eric but didn't gesture for him to continue again.

  Eric stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced a little on his heels. "What's your name? Can I pronounce it? Or is it something Humans can't say?"

  The alien looked at him, seeming surprised. They were silent for a moment, but then very carefully made a noise that sounded a bit like Kiska.

  Eric hesitated. For some reason, he really didn't want to get it wrong. "Again?"

  The alien said the word again. They pointed at Eric, smiling widely.

  Eric jolted at the sight of teeth that weren't quite Human. They were too wide and very slightly spaced. The alien clicked and Eric blushed. "Sorry," he muttered, embarrassed to be caught staring. "Kiska?" he repeated.

  The alien shook their head very slightly. They said the word again, stressing the vowel sound in the middle.

  "Keeska?" Eric repeated.

  The alien made a click that sounded happy and smiled.

  "Is t
hat your whole name?"

  Keeska shook their head.

  "So just part of it? Like a nickname that I can actually say?" The alien nodded and Eric grinned. "Cool." He bounced on his heels again. "Okay."

  Keeska looked up at him and smiled.

  Eric wasn't sure what to do other than smile back. "I'll go make you some food, yeah? You said you were hungry."

  Keeska somehow managed to rub their stomach under the blanket and yawn at the same time.

  Eric laughed quietly. "Yeah, okay. You chill out in here and I'll go cook. Okay?"

  Keeska nodded and curled their legs up under themself, sort of scooting into the corner of the couch.

  Eric dug a National Geographic out from under the table. He held it out to Keeska. "I know you might not be able to read it, but it has lots of really great pictures in it."

  Keeska carefully took the magazine, setting it in their lap and making a click that was somehow five syllables long. Eric stared for a second before shrugging helplessly and retreating to the kitchen. He was sure that was a word, or maybe even a sentence, in Keeska's language, but he had no idea.

  He dug out one of the cans of soup. It was one of the nice uncondensed ones, so Eric just dumped it into a pan and turned on the burner. He stared at the green goop, wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

  They could communicate now. Sort of. He knew the alien’s name. Keeska. Eric hummed quietly to himself. Keeska. Pretty name. He wondered what the rest of Keeska's name was. Probably also pretty, definitely unpronounceable.

  Keeska's language seemed to be a combination of clicks, chirps, and trills with the odd vowel sound thrown in. They should sound like a bird, but Eric couldn't really make the comparison work. While the individual sounds might be something a bird might make, Keeska sounded nothing like a bird. The sounds they made were more complex than that. And Eric thought it sounded more elegant than that too, though he hadn't heard much yet. He suspected he was missing a lot. It made sense that a language like that would be nuanced in a range beyond what Humans could hear. Human ears were rather pitiful, all in all.

  The soup bubbled and Eric retrieved one of the thick pottery bowls out of the cupboard. He'd feed Keeska and they'd go from there. If Keeska could understand what Eric said, they could probably translate the TV as well. Eric could give Keeska the remote and let them watch whatever. That would be entertaining.

  Eric grinned, amused at the thought. If nothing else, the evening would certainly be interesting.

  *~*~*

  "Oh, good. You're still awake."

  I looked up from where I sat on the couch to see the Human had come in from the kitchen holding a bowl. No. Not the Human. Eric. I should start thinking of him by his name. I smiled slightly, unsure of myself.

  He smiled back and came to stand next to me. He held out a cloth pad. Once I took it from him, he held out the bowl. I reached to take it with my free hand.

  He shook his head. "No, it'll burn you." He pointed to the cloth. "Take it with the hot pad."

  I looked down at the pad I was holding then back at the bowl of soup. The pad was large enough that if I held it out in both hands, Eric could give me the bowl. I frowned and held it up on my palms.

  He smiled again. "That works, I guess." He carefully set the bowl in my hands.

  I brought it down to my lap and set it on my legs, careful not to move them and spill it. Warm steam rose from a creamy green liquid inside. I leaned down to sniff it, but it didn't smell like anything I knew.

  "Here."

  I looked up to find Eric was holding out a small metal object. I frowned at him.

  He held it closer. "It's called a spoon. You use it to eat the soup."

  I reached up and took it. It was mostly flat with a small scoop on one end. Oh. That made sense. It was similar to some of the eating utensils I was used to, actually. I filled the little scoop with the soup and tasted it. It was good. I ate more, glancing up to note that Eric seemed pleased.

  I stopped eating and pointed at the soup with my spoon. I made the same trilling sound as before, hoping it sounded like a question.

  Eric smiled. "It's split pea soup," he said. "I didn't know if you ate meat, so your options were limited."

  I nodded and went back to eating.

  "Um." Eric shuffled his feet, and I looked up. "Do you eat meat?" he asked tentatively.

  I had no reason not to eat meat, physically or otherwise, and it would most likely make it easier for him to provide food. I both said yes, which probably sounded like a random clicking noise to him, and nodded.

  He blinked. "Okay. Tell me if I try to feed you something disgusting, okay?"

  I nodded, looking down at my soup and then back up at him.

  He made the sound I had come to recognize as Human laughter and gestured at me to continue. "Yes, eat. I'm done bothering you. Unless you want something else?"

  I smiled and shook my head. He sat down in the chair at the end of the couch and watched me. I figured him being curious about me was to be expected and ignored him to finish my food. The soup was delicious. I finished it in no time at all and handed him the empty bowl.

  "Do you want more?" he asked.

  I started to shake my head, but wound up yawning hugely instead.

  Eric made a quiet sound of amusement and stood. "You should go back to sleep."

  I nodded sluggishly and shifted to curl up on my side on the soft cushions. My eyes started to drift closed, but I jolted and opened them again when I heard him moving in front of me.

  "Shh," he said quietly. "Just getting the blanket. You're fine. Go to sleep."

  The soft, heavy fabric fell over me, and I drifted off to the sounds of Eric working in the kitchen.

  *~*~*

  Eric finished the dishes and dried his hands, hanging the towel over the handle bar on the oven when he was done. He stood for a moment, deliberating what to do next.

  He'd fixed himself some soup and toast. Since he hadn't been quite ready to go back in the other room, he'd simply eaten standing up at the counter. But there wasn't really anything else left to do in here unless he wanted to clean the fridge or something. He might as well just suck it up and continue facing the weirdness that was his current reality.

  Eric sighed and pushed through the doors to the living room.

  Keeska was curled up on the couch sleeping. Eric didn't really want to disturb them, but he wasn't ready to leave them alone for the night either. Keeska had seemed fine, but Eric had already left them alone all day. He'd rather stay close by for a little longer in case Keeska needed something.

  The book Eric had been reading last night was still on the table. He went over to pick it up and settled into the big comfy recliner next to the couch.

  He looked over at Keeska and laughed quietly. He had thought tonight would be exciting and interesting. In reality, it was just weird. He had an injured, exhausted alien asleep on his couch and he was just going to hang out and read for a while.

  Eric grinned ruefully. Whatever.

  He read until he started falling asleep over his book. He gave in and tucked the bookmark in place, setting the book on the table. He stood and looked over to check on Keeska. They hadn't shown any signs of waking up but seemed fine.

  Eric pulled the blanket up a little more, resisting the impulse to pet Keeska's ear. It looked really soft. But one should not pet an alien without permission, even though he'd let curiosity get the better of him yesterday. They weren't a cat. And, Eric realized, he didn't usually go around petting cats without permission either. Go figure.

  Deciding that staying in the living room to sleep again would be neither useful nor comfortable, Eric headed for bed. He clicked off lights as he went, though he left the hallway light on, so Keeska wouldn't be completely in the dark if they woke up.

  Eric stretched out under the blankets. The few minutes before he fell asleep were spent wondering what would happen tomorrow.

  LEARNING

  It was time.
I knew I could trust Eric. He'd been nothing but kind to me. It was time to really talk to him. No more of this one-sided nonsense.

  Yes, it had only been a few days, but this was so frustrating. And there was no reason for it to be.

  I rubbed my fingers over my palm, staring down at my hands. I turned them over, curling my fingers into fists and watching light dance over my veeka before letting my hands fall to my sides.

  He would have to touch me, constantly, whenever we wanted to speak if he was to understand me. Was I ready for that? Could I trust him that much? This wasn't a normal situation. I wasn't with my family. I wasn't working, wasn't in a business situation without working translators. I wasn't safe, surrounded by people that would help me if someone tried to take advantage of the contact.

  I was vulnerable. Touching him in order to speak only increased that vulnerability. It would make it easier for him to harm me. I didn't think he would, but the small fear hovered at the back of my mind, making me hesitate.

  I sighed. It didn't matter if I was ready. Keeping things like they were now wasn't fair to him. He deserved more from me than this clumsy nonsense, especially since I could already understand everything he said.

  I could hear him moving around in the kitchen. There was water running and clinking noises, so I thought he was probably cleaning up from breakfast. He had cooked for me again.

  I smiled softly to myself, looking toward the doors. He really was very sweet. He took great care to make sure I wasn't hungry, that I could eat the food he gave me, and that I liked it. He'd never treated me like an unwanted guest.

  I was still tired and banged up, even days after being attacked. But Eric never complained or asked things of me. All he did was change the bandages on my leg, make sure I was comfortable, and try to give me things to do so I wouldn't be bored.

  I liked him very much. And I was starting to trust him.

  I gathered up my courage and stood, heading for the kitchen.