Maggie's Story (Intergalactic Matchmaking Services)

by Ava Louise

  As Daxon listened to his companions around him, he watched Maggie’s interaction with them. She seemed to be genuinely interested in them as a whole. Perhaps she would be able to find someone to mate with after all. That thought had Daxon’s stomach suddenly tensing. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of her being with anyone else. Without realizing it, he had started thinking of her as being there for him. He looked at her and saw that she had dark circles under her eyes. He suspected that meant the same for humans as it did for Nordonians, exhaustion.

  Daxon’s deep brogue interrupted the conversations at the table. “Maggie, perhaps we should return you to your rooms? If I am not mistaken, you are looking tired.”

  “Oh, thanks. You’re trying to say I look terrible, right?” teased Maggie.

  “No! I just want you to rest and get well. It was only this morning that you had a broken arm.”

  That brought forth more questions from the males gathered around their table. Without answering any of the new questions, Daxon rose and held his hand out to Maggie to help her rise. She waved goodbye to everyone and followed him from the eating hall. Overall, he would say this was a good experience. It definitely left him in a more positive mood regarding the matchmaking program.

  “Thank you for a wonderful time. It was fun trying new foods and meeting so many people. But you’re right; I’m very tired. I think I need to head to bed and cuddle with Mamzell.”

  “Cuddle?” queried the security chief.

  “Yes. It means to snuggle up close, maybe hugging. Seeking comfort from the close proximity of someone…or in this case, Mamzell.” Maggie rested her head on the wall of the elevator. It would appear the long day was definitely catching up to her.

  Daxon walked her to her door. After disengaging the lock, he entered behind her. “Let me show you how to use the communication panel, in case you need something tonight. Otherwise, I will see you in the morning. Would you like a tour of the starship tomorrow?”

  “Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”

  Daxon showed her how to activate the communication panel and how to enter his room number and to activate it by voice. While he was showing this to her, the cat was rubbing itself up against his pants legs. He found he no longer minded the cat shedding on his uniform. At least, not too much.

  Daxon glanced down into Maggie’s eyes. He liked the deep green color of her eyes. Nordonians did not have green eyes. They were so expressive, like a window into her emotions. He found he wanted to touch her, to hold her. He reached out and cupped the side of her face with his right hand, enjoying the feel of her hair on his fingers.

  “Good night, Maggie. Sleep well,” he said as he went to the door. With one last, lingering glance at her, he exited the suite of rooms. Well, this is most unexpected, he thought.

  CHAPTER 16

  Maggie woke the next morning to the alarm on her cell phone going off. She had forgotten to turn off the setting. Now that she was off work for a bit, there really was no need to get up so early, but it was such an ingrained habit she decided to get up anyway. Mamzell was sleeping next to her pillow, in her usual spot. Not even a strange bed could make the cat give up her preferred spot.

  Leaving Mamzell to her sleep, Maggie gathered up her clothes and headed for the bathroom. With a little experimentation, she learned the shower operated just as the sink did. When she stepped into the cubicle, there must have been sensors that detected her presence. Water shot out of several locations along the walls and ceiling. She quickly washed her hair and body, not sure how long the water would run. After a quick rinse she exited the shower, the water turning off as soon as she was out.

  Using a towel found in the cabinet, she quickly dried off and wrapped up her wet hair. She finally recalled that she had forgotten to ask about using her electrical items. Letting her hair dry naturally would just lead to wild-woman hair, but she didn’t know what else to do for now. Perhaps Daxon would show up soon and she could ask him. For now she decided to just comb out the tangles, rewrap her hair in the towel and get dressed.

  When she had taken care of Mamzell’s litter box and food needs, she headed to the living area. Perhaps this would be a good time to test her arm, she figured. Hopefully she could get some crocheting done while she waited for Daxon to show up for the tour of the starship. She wondered if Claire would be able to help her distribute her scarves and hats to the homeless in Seattle. She didn’t know where to go in Washington since this was her first winter in the state. Then again, she wasn’t really in Washington any longer and there were no homeless people onboard the starship, but a hobby was a hobby. It kept her hands busy.

  After a little while, Mamzell wandered out of the bedroom and wanted to help with the crocheting. This was one of their regular routines—Maggie crocheting, Mamzell insisting on helping with the yarn, and then the inevitable “wrestling match.” As Mamzell settled onto Maggie’s lap, she would periodically reach out a paw very slowly and try to pull the yarn toward herself.

  “Knock it off, little lady,” said Maggie. She pushed the offending paw back down, but knew it wouldn’t be long before the move was repeated.

  “Mrawr,” said the cat. The paw slowly stretched up again and hooked the yarn.

  “I don’t need your help, thanks anyways.” Maggie repositioned the yarn trying to give herself more room to crochet without the cat helping.

  “Mrawr.” The paw was faster this time and actually managed to pull the yarn from Maggie’s hand.

  “I’m warning you. I don’t want to wrestle; now cut it out.” Mamzell decided to listen for once, and settled in to nap.

  After another half hour, with no sign of her guide, Maggie placed the yarn and her hook on the cushion to her left. The hook’s handle had a soft foam covering over it, to provide a comfortable grip to the user. She scooped up the cat, touched her nose to the cat’s nose, and said, “Here, sit over here, I need to go brush my teeth. Now behave.” She placed the cat on the opposite end of the couch, stroking her back a few times to encourage her back to sleep, and got up to head to the bathroom.

  After taking care of her teeth, Maggie came back to the living area to find the couch empty. No cat, but the yarn was still there. Unfortunately, the crochet hook was missing.

  “Ugh. Mamzell! Where’s my crochet hook?” called Maggie. She turned around looking for the cat and did not see her in the living area. She kneeled down to look under the couch and chairs; no cat and no hook.

  Maggie heard movement behind her and turned around. She caught sight of a slender black tail disappearing under the bed. Heading back to the bedroom, Maggie figured she was going to end up in a wrestling match whether she wanted it or not.

  “Give me the hook, little lady!” she called after the disappearing appendage. Maggie knelt beside the bed and looked underneath. Sure enough, there sat Mamzell with the crochet hook on the floor in front of her.

  “Mrawr,” said the thief, her paw resting on the stolen property.

  “Look, monster, give me my hook!” Maggie flattened herself out on the floor and stretched her arm beneath the bed. She couldn’t quite reach it. She thought she heard a noise from somewhere but ignored it, keeping her eye on the prize. “I’m warning you, furball. Give me the hook, or else!”

  “Mrawr,” came the expected response. Mamzell did not look concerned in any way.

  “If you make me crawl under this bed, you’re in for it. Now bring it out here!”

  “Mrawr.” Mamzell picked up the crochet hook and scooted backwards toward the head of the bed and the wall.

  “Look you! Give it to me or else.” Maggie knew she was playing along with Mamzell, as the cat wanted, but all she really wanted was to get up off the floor and finish getting ready for her visit from Daxon. However, she knew if she didn’t get the crochet hook back from Mamzell now, while she had it in sight, she may never find the thing later. Time to resort to threats, figured Maggie.

  “Okay. Hand over the crochet hook or you are in big trouble. I
will shave your tail bald! How does that sound? You will be one goofy lookin’ cat then!”

  “Mrawr,” came the unworried response. Mamzell knew an empty threat when she heard one. She just stared at Maggie with her unblinking blue eyes.

  “Dammit, Mamzell, give me the hook! I will tie your tail in a knot that even a sailor can’t untie!” Maggie was inching her way toward the head of the bed, her upper body now under the bed while her feet helped push her along. The towel around her hair came off and Maggie shoved it and her long damp curls aside. “Hand over the hook or I will shave you naked! You’ll be the only naked cat in space and the laughingstock of the feline kingdom!”

  “Mrawr.” Mamzell picked up her stolen prize and ran out from underneath the bed on the opposite side.

  “Aargh!” roared Maggie. She proceeded to back her way out from under the bed, continuing her tirade at the escaping cat. “You aggravating furball! Bring that hook back here right now! You are toast, you hear me? Toast! I’m gonna paddle your butt ‘til you bark like a dog!”

  Maggie was finally able to sit up and turn around, so she could prepare to continue the search for the thief and her bounty. She pushed aside her damp hair that had become a tangled mess from crawling around on the floor under the bed and looked right at a pair of long legs encased in black pants. Her eyes followed the legs upward to find Daxon standing beside her, with his hand extended to help her get to her feet. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry in embarrassment for her situation or laugh at the odd expression on his face.

  She thought perhaps the crying would win out when she noticed two more people behind Daxon. Ambassador Pacer and his son, Denot, were standing in her bedroom doorway, each wearing an expression of total bewilderment.

  “Um…good morning,” said Maggie. How the heck was she supposed to explain this situation?

  CHAPTER 17

  Daxon was not sure what to make of the situation in Maggie’s rooms. When she did not answer the door and they could hear her talking to someone, rather loudly, they decided to enter on their own. He was confused by the things he heard her say to her pet. Wasn’t the pet a beloved companion? Maybe he should have had the medic check her out more thoroughly.

  “Is something wrong, Maggie?” asked the ambassador.

  At that moment, Mamzell sauntered over and deposited her stolen goods at the feet of Daxon. He just looked at the crochet hook, then the cat, and finally back at Maggie. “Did we interrupt anything?” he asked. “Do you need us to contact the Medical Bay?” Perhaps the concussion from her attack was worse than first thought.

  “Medical? Why would I need the medic?” asked a confused Maggie.

  “I am concerned regarding the concussion you sustained a couple days ago.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, Daxon. No, I don’t need a medic, my head is fine! I just need this thieving cat to return my crochet hook!”

  “The pet stole something from you?” asked Denot. He and his father still looked bewildered. “Why would you keep a pet that is a thief?”

  “Yes, she stole my crochet hook. She thinks it’s a game. She takes things, then turns it into a game of me finding it. This time, she crawled under the bed and I had to go after it.” Maggie was clearly embarrassed, as evidenced by her flushed cheeks. “Um…why are you three in my rooms? I didn’t hear a knock.”

  “I came by to get you for the tour of the starship I mentioned yesterday. Denot wanted to come along to meet your pet; he has never seen a cat except on television,” replied Daxon.

  Maggie reached down and scooped up the cat. “Well, this is the little heathen, Mamzell. Mamzell, meet Denot.” Clearly the newcomer did not know what to think of the cat or the situation they walked in on. “It’s fine, guys, this is just a game we play.”

  “And do you often tie her tail into knots? And shave her?” asked the ambassador. He had been under the impression this human treasured her pet.

  Maggie could not hold back the laugh that bubbled up. The thought of her ever harming her cat was preposterous. “No! It is just a game and those are just empty threats. Like telling your child they are grounded for life. You don’t mean it, you just say it to get their attention.” She put the cat back on the floor and picked up her crochet hook. She shook the item in the cat’s direction, “And YOU keep your paws off my hook!”

  “Mrawr,” was the unconcerned response. Mamzell walked away from the people in search of a place to take a nap after her rousing game of hide-and-seek.

  “Well, then. If your game with the cat is over, are you ready for your tour?” asked Daxon. He decided to let the subject drop. He was not sure he would ever understand humans and their relationships with pets.

  “Oh, wait. I need to do something with my hair. Is there a way to use my blow dryer? It requires an electrical outlet.”

  “There is a panel in your wash room that has been adapted to electrical outlets. We discovered this need during a previous human’s visit. Let me show you.”

  “We will leave you two now that Denot has met the pet. Good day, Maggie,” said the ambassador. Both the ambassador and his son still looked slightly confused.

  “Bye,” said Maggie, as she watched the two Nordonians walk out of her bedroom. She quickly grabbed her blow dryer and followed Daxon into the bathroom.

  Daxon opened a small panel near the wash room sink. “This opens the panel. There are several…outlets, I believe you called them. There is a similar panel on the top of the desk in your living area.”

  “Oh, great! Thanks. It’s good to know I can charge my cell phone and e-reader while I’m up here. Ummm … if you’ll just give me a few minutes, I’ll meet you in the living room once I’m finished putting myself together, okay?” asked Maggie.

  “Certainly. I will wait for you out here.”

  Daxon quickly left the wash room and strolled through the bedroom to the living area. He made himself comfortable on the couch while he waited for Maggie. He heard the sound of something mechanical start up in the direction of the wash room. Looking down, he saw a pile of black string bundled up on the left side of the couch. He noticed that one end of the bundle trailed into a canvas bag sitting on the floor at the edge of the sofa. Holding up the bundle of string, he tried to figure out its use, but he was coming up blank. What possible use was there for a long rectangle, he wondered.

  Just then the cat strolled out from the bedroom and jumped up onto the couch on his other side. Placing the bundle of string down, he turned to look at the cat. Not understanding why he had the inclination, he reached out and stroked the back of the cat. It stood up and pushed its head into his hand harder. It also started making a strange noise from its insides; a sort of rumbling, vibrating sound.

  “Making friends with the thieving monster, are you?”

  He turned to see Maggie standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “Is she sick? She seems to be making odd noises.”

  Maggie chuckled as she explained. “No, she isn’t sick. She is purring. Most cats do that when they’re happy. Sometimes they do it to comfort themselves if they are sick, too. But she is purring because she got you to pet her, one of her favorite activities. Being petted, I mean.”

  “Ah, I think I understand.” The cat climbed into his lap, placed her front legs on his chest and tried to sniff his face. Pulling his head back, he said, “And this part I do not understand.”

  “Come here, little lady.” Maggie scooped up the cat and sat in a side chair, placing the cat in her lap. “She’s just wanting to smell you. Cats are very inquisitive creatures and they like to smell anything and everything. It’s one way they investigate the world around them. She doesn’t understand the concept of invading a person’s personal space. To her, if it’s in her space, it’s fair game.”

  Daxon looked over at Maggie. She seemed to have tamed her long hair. When he first saw her this morning, her hair was a riot of deep red curls going in every direction. He liked the golden highlights in her hair. S
he currently had it smoothed back and flowing down her back. It was a definite plus to the human females, their hair. He noticed from studying their media that in her American culture, most men kept their hair short, while the women tended to have longer hair. Of course, he had seen the opposite in each gender, but it was yet another way they seemed to identify themselves.

  He indicated the bundle of black yarn on the couch. “What is this?” he asked, confusion evident in his lightly accented voice.

  “That will be a scarf when I’m done with it.” Maggie picked up the bundle, unrolled it and showed him how it fit around her neck. “It’s not complete yet. Perhaps a couple more days working on it and it will be.”

  “And you are making this for someone?”

  “Yes. I make scarves and hats throughout the year, then when winter sets in, I take them to shelters to be given out to the homeless and less fortunate. It’s just something I do to keep me busy while I watch TV or relax. They were a big hit when I lived in Minnesota. The winters there are really cold. I was hoping Claire or my friend Shirley could help me with distributing them in Washington, since they know the area.”

  “This is something that brings you enjoyment?”

  “Well, sure. Who wouldn’t find fulfillment in helping the less fortunate? Let me guess, you don’t have homeless people on your world?”

  “No, we don’t.” The concept of homelessness was something Daxon and the other Nordonians had read about in the human media, but they did not understand how the humans had not eradicated the problem at this point in their technological advancement. How can a society that has even minimal space flight not have figured out how to take care of its people?

  “Well, how about that tour?”

  Reminded of his reason for being here, he stood. “Of course. Whenever you are ready.”

  Maggie put the cat down in her chair and stowed the scarf back into the canvas tote bag. This she rolled closed and placed on top of the desk. “Hopefully Mamzell won’t go looking for the yarn,” she said with a smile. “After you.”