Of Jenny and the Aliens

by Ryan Gebhart

  “So that night you thought, ‘Well, Mark’s not here, so I’ll just have sex with his little sidekick instead.’”

  “Stop acting like you’ve got me figured out. You know, I wasn’t even sure how much you liked me. After we hooked up, you left.”

  “I wanted to stay. I didn’t know what the rules were.”

  “Derek, I . . . I wasn’t planning on liking you or spending every day with you. You were just the cute, skinny dork from Spanish. Then you ended up being someone I wasn’t expecting.”

  “But you like him more.”

  “I like you both.”

  “You probably already forgot, but at Red Lobster you told me that if there’s world peace for a day, you’ll be my girlfriend. Did you mean that, or were you just messing with me?”

  “I swear to God I meant it.”

  “How could you have meant it when all this time you were keeping Shugar a secret from me?”

  “I . . . This is hard for me, okay?”

  “Fucking giving me this impossible ultimatum. I bet you didn’t tell Mark there had to be world peace for you to be his girlfriend. Such bullshit.”

  I wipe the tears away, dry my hand off on my jeans, then open Jenny’s photos in her phone. Her naked selfie she sent to Shugar. A sepia-toned picture of the snow falling in front of her house. A picture of her with Kaitlyn and Nikki, and they’re all smiling. There’s one where she’s with Shugar, and he’s holding the phone out in front of them and kissing her cheek. I scroll through a dozen other pictures until I find Karo grimacing as he drags me by my ankles onto the island.

  I say, “But world peace is going to happen, and when everyone stops pointing their weapons at each other, I want you to know it was all because of me.”

  I send the picture to my phone, and it promptly buzzes in my front pocket.

  I get directions to the WTOL news station, and it’s normally a fifteen-minute drive into downtown Toledo, but with the weather, my phone’s predicting twice that. They haven’t plowed the Anthony Wayne Trail, and even though the speed limit says 50 MPH, we’re barely doing thirty. The snow’s falling at an absurd rate, and my truck keeps on wanting to skid off the road, but I got this.

  There’s a car that was going the opposite direction face-first in a ditch, its hazards blinking, and a man is out front yelling into his phone.

  “Look out!” Avery shouts. The car ahead of me has stopped short. I ease onto the brakes and start skidding, but manage to get over to the shoulder without sliding into the ditch.

  “Sorry.”

  “Watch where you’re going.” He looks back at the picture of Karo on my phone. He’s barely taken his eyes off of it since we left Jenny’s, and I told him the basic gist of my plan. “So what are you even going to say when we get to the news station?”

  “You know. That these ravenous monsters who’ve devoured everything on their planet are about to arrive. You saw that Centaurian on TV. Remember his teeth? Imagine billions of them.”

  “They’re just going to think you’re a nutjob. And even if they don’t, let’s say you get your story to reporters. What’s that even going to do?”

  “Um, it’ll go viral, then humankind will unite to prepare for battle. It makes sense, right?”

  “They’re not going to air it, you know.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  Avery groans. “I can’t believe you don’t know these things.”

  “What things?”

  “Before they do anything, they’ll have to report the photo to the federal government. That is, if they actually believe you. I’m pretty sure that in matters of national security, the media is required to. The station probably could end up in a lot of legal trouble if they don’t.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It’s part of some Homeland Security law, I think. You need to go straight to the authorities with this.”

  “But what if they hide the information, you know, to keep the public from panicking? The government would be debating how to act for weeks. Plus, they’d quarantine me. No, we’re going to the news station. Trust me, they’ll air it. They’re not going to be worried about losing their jobs or going to prison when I convince them the world’s about to end.”

  Avery lets out an annoyed breath. “Whatever you say.”

  My phone buzzes.

  “Shugar?” Avery says, looking at the lit-up screen. “Is that your nickname for Jenny?”

  I clench the steering wheel tighter. Mark’s the last person I want to be talking to right now. “Give it to me.”

  I put it on speakerphone and say, “What’s up, man? I can’t talk right now. I’m driving.”

  “What’s going on, Scrobes? Everything okay?”

  “Why?”

  “I just talked to Jennifer, and she’s worried you’re going to do something dangerous.”

  “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “What? Are you upset because we’re dating?”

  I scowl at the phone. “You called her a slut.”

  “Yeah, well, I take it back. I actually kind of like her. She’s a cool person and she’s entitled to date whoever she wants, you know.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No, dude. We just started dating officially this past weekend.”

  “You fucking lied to me.”

  “When did I lie to you?”

  I can’t believe it. He sincerely doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

  I say, “The day I was over at your house watching the Browns at Pittsburgh. Remember? I asked you if you and Jenny hung out outside of school. You said, and I quote, ‘We just talk during class.’”

  “Because I knew you’d be a little bitch about it. Look, I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, so if you want I’ll tell you everything.”

  “What else is there?” He couldn’t tell me anything that could wreck me more. I take him off speaker because Avery’s looking uncomfortable, his head lowered and his hand covering his brow.

  He says, “So, the day before Dorton’s party, I heard the news that the Centaurians made contact with us. Not gonna lie, I was pretty freaked out, and I brought the idea to Kyle that we should get everyone to show some skin at the party. You know, to celebrate our humanity. I was sitting next to Jennifer in physics, and I was telling her about the thong I bought. She said she’d go topless if I came just wearing that. I didn’t think she was being serious, but what can I say?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re making this a way bigger deal than it actually is. Look, I’m not trying to get on your bad side; I’m not trying to be a bad friend either.”

  “You’re the worst friend.”

  “I fucking love you, Scrobes. Don’t ever question that. Besides, who knows how long I’ll even be dating her. I signed the pledge to join the global army to fight for the people I care about. People like you.”

  “You only care about yourself.”

  “Hey. Hey, man,” he says softly. “Why don’t you date someone who does jigsaw puzzles and plays with LEGOs and who loves The Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones as much as you do? It’s done, man. Jennifer’s my girlfriend.”

  I shut off my phone and speed up because all these assholes are going too slow. I change lanes and pass three cars. I press on the gas until the speedometer reads 40, then I shift into fourth gear and push my truck up to the speed limit, because Jenny is not destined to be dating that piece of shit.

  I breathe.

  The thing is, no reporter in their right mind would believe me. Avery’s right. There’s probably some asshole coming into the news station every other week claiming the world’s about to end. Besides, even if I did get my picture and story on TV, and even if it’s seen by the most remote tribes in the Amazon rain forest, if the Centaurians don’t actually show up, there won’t be anything for the world to rally against.

  I slow down. On the radio, the Sad Bears’ ten-minute epic “You Are a Universe” starts up with its weeping
piano intro. It’s such a peaceful song, but I put my hand to my chest because something feels off. My heart should not be pounding this erratically.

  “What’s wrong?” Avery says.

  I pull over to the shoulder, step on the parking brake, and turn my hazards on. The “You will do better in Toledo” welcome sign appears twenty feet ahead, blinking in the darkness.

  “I’m such an idiot,” I say.

  “Yup.”

  “Is every country truly going to stop fighting each other because of a story and a picture of an alien?”

  “Nope.”

  “The Centaurians won’t even show up. They’re afraid of us.”

  Avery nods, smiling smugly, like he knew that all along. “Let me get this straight. Jenny said that if there’s world peace for a day, she will be your girlfriend.”

  “Yeah.”

  Avery laughs. “She’s not serious, you know.”

  “That’s what I said. But she insisted she was.”

  “She’s not.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re thirteen.”

  I release the parking brake and wait until the road has cleared. I shift into first and plow through the median. We dip down. The front of my truck rams into the snow pile, and chunks fly onto the windshield.

  Avery’s head whiplashes forward. “What the —? What are you doing?”

  “I have no clue,” I mutter.

  The engine is roaring. My legs are trembling, and it’s hard to press onto the clutch to shift into second. For the first time a strange thought pops into my head: maybe Jenny isn’t worth me starting an international crisis.

  Screw that. That’s just Avery’s ignorant thoughts polluting my head.

  I say, “I’m taking you back to my mom’s, then I’m going to Blue Grass Island to see if Karo’s out tonight.”

  “He’s not going to be there. It’s freezing.”

  “He says he goes out there all the time. In some weird way, it’s like he’s always there. He offered me his joint as, like, a peace offering, and if he’s there, this time I’m going to take it.” Once I’ve gotten my truck completely in control, I turn to him. “What other options do I have?”

  “Go home. Go to bed. Forget about this stupid plan. Me and you can play Mario Kart. Find another girlfriend. See? You got lots of options.”

  “I’m going to ask him if he can convince his people to invade.”

  “What?” He lets out a choked, disbelieving laugh. “You’re willing to let innocent people die over her?”

  “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “What’s he going to say back? ‘Oh, yeah. You know, you’re right. That’s a great way to world peace. We’ll kill hundreds of thousands of people so humanity can rally together just so you can have a girlfriend.’ Derek, you even said they come in peace. Why would they do that in the first place?”

  “Then help me out a little, brother. I’ve never done this before. Don’t say ‘don’t do anything,’ because that’s out of the question.”

  He thinks about it for a minute. “Maybe you could ask him to stage an invasion.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Like, have their flying saucers hover over all the major cities like they do in movies, but they never actually attack.”

  “How would he convince a billion aliens to fly four and a half light-years? He’s not, like, President of the Aliens. He’s a musician.”

  “You just asked for my help. That’s all I got.”

  “Sorry.”

  I drive home. The Sad Bears’ lead singer is singing about how every one of us is a fully formed universe and that our existence stretches to the end of outer space and to the dawn of time. How is it that we can be so close and intimate with someone, yet still be impossibly far away?

  I’ve loved this song ever since Jenny played their album Make Constant Noises while we designed the alien T-shirt, but I never knew what they were singing about until now. Because no matter how hard I try, I’ll never figure her out.

  But that’s how it is for everyone, and people make love work all the time. Grandma Karen and Grandpa Paul have been married for over sixty years, and it’s so freaking adorable how much they still love each other. How he gooses her ass in public and how she playfully slaps his cheek in rebuttal.

  That still can be me and Jenny.

  I pull into the driveway, and my tire tracks from earlier are filling in with snow.

  Avery opens the passenger door and steps out.

  I say, “Don’t tell Dad or my mom anything, okay?”

  “I don’t think we’ll have to.” He shows me a text on his phone.

  DAD: Debbie and I went out to catch up some more. We left some money on the table so you and Double D can order a pizza. Call me if anything happens. We won’t be gone too long. Love you!

  I notice the empty spot where Mom normally parks. Who knows what Dad means by “catching up.”

  I say, “Well, if they ask, just tell them I crashed at Andy’s.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey.”

  He turns around. He’s squinting because of the snow landing on his face.

  I say, “We should hang out more often.”

  He squints harder, this time for a different reason.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Have fun smoking weed with an alien.” He closes the passenger door and walks up the front steps.

  I listen to the engine idle, the windshield wipers, and Princess barking as Avery opens the door. I breathe in deep and fight back a yawn, because even though I’ve barely slept the last three days, now isn’t the time to be relaxed. I have to find Karo so he can show me the way to world peace, because if I don’t, then I’m done. I’m going to end up as some hopeless romantic loser. I’ll be wandering this piece-of-shit planet, searching for someone that could be my silver medal, the runner-up to Jenny.

  That can’t be how my life ends up.

  Fuck it. I’m gonna rest my eyes. Just for a minute.

  I open my eyes and suddenly everything is blinding white. A jolt of panic jerks me up. Where the —?

  What am I doing in my truck?

  The engine is still rumbling, and I’m down a quarter tank of gas. My phone says it’s 9:51 a.m.

  Dammit. I slept the whole night. Mom’s car is still gone, and there’s a new text from her sent at 11:45 p.m.

  MOM: Your father and I had to stay at his hotel room because the city declared a level 3 snow emergency. Hopefully we’ll be home in the morning. You guys doing okay?

  I open the door and stumble into half a foot of powdery snow. Jesus, it’s gotta be in the negatives. There’s a glare smearing the world. I shield my eyes with one hand as I maneuver my dick through my boxers, then piss on the fence. The air is really still, and steam rises up to my face.

  I zip up and crack my neck.

  The storm has cleared out, and the sky is a pale arctic blue. No birds are chirping; no cars are driving by. There’s just the howl of a bitter and eerie wind, like Maumee traded places with the North Pole.

  On the radio the morning deejays are yelling at each other, and not jokingly like they usually do. The U.S. military has put some of the troops onto forty warships waiting for the order to enter Raya. It could happen any minute now.

  World peace. What would that even look like? All I can picture is something like a worldwide Woodstock, where even in the deserts of Raya, everyone is dancing around like hippie assholes to jam band music and putting little flowers in each other’s hair beneath the lights of flying saucers. They’re dropping hits of acid with Americans and the Centaurians and saying that we’re all star children, man, and we come from the same mother.

  But what if the Centaurians decide they’ll give me peace on Earth, but not just for a day? What if they bring all their ships and wipe out every last person, creating a permanent peace on Earth? It’d be like some ironic genie’s wish come true. But Karo likes me enough that he’ll convince his people to let me and Jen
ny live out the rest of our days on a peaceful — and empty — planet. She won’t be hooking up with Shugar or Dorton or anyone else but me. We’ll have our thirty cute kids. We’ll restart civilization . . . and I guess there’ll probably be a lot of inbreeding over time.

  I get stopped by a red light on Conant Street in uptown Maumee. What would all these nineteenth-century brick buildings look like after an unstoppable fleet of flying saucers carpet bombed the place? The smoking rubble. Bodies strewn in the street. Centaurians carrying human remains in their arms back to their ships to Pud 5 for a feast larger than the greatest Thanksgiving.

  I don’t care if I create world peace or start an interstellar war. Jenny’s worth both.

  I wish I knew why.

  The snow squeaks and crunches beneath my boots. There are at least eight inches on the towpath. An occasional gust rattles the snow free from the canopy, but there’s barely a breeze down here.

  Even though the main part of the river is still flowing, slow and syrupy, the shallow section between here and Blue Grass Island looks like it has completely frozen over. All the tiny waves are locked in time and dusted with snow. I look for Karo on the island, but there are only naked, dead-looking trees.

  The ice looks thick enough. I could walk across it, but Avery’s probably right — Karo’s gotta be back on his home planet.

  It wasn’t even three weeks ago I swam this very same stretch. How long does it take for water to freeze over? I mean, it did get cold really fast, and this part of the river isn’t that deep.

  I take a first step, slip a little, and gather my balance. My hands and arms are trembling, and I don’t know if it’s from the cold or because I’m afraid. The ice feels sturdy so far, but the island is still a hundred feet away.

  Holy shit, something just creaked. I should crawl to disperse my weight. I get on my hands and knees, and maybe it was in my head, because there aren’t any more sounds. Now there’s no going back — I’m closer to the island than the mainland.

  Okay, that definitely was the ice creaking.

  I lift my head. Karo’s standing there looking like a burnt marshmallow in his poofed-up winter clothes. He offers a gloved hand and helps me to the island, waddling like a penguin. He wipes the snow off of the fallen tree where we first talked. We sit down. This time we’re so close, our jackets are touching.