Three

 

Sophie sat across from Rylee like she had every Friday at eleven-thirty since the beginning of the school year. The third grader had made great strides in learning to communicate. Sophie had diagnosed her with selective mutism, and she suspected Rylee was autistic as well. Rylee had initially refused to say a single word to her, like she did with any stranger.

These days, Sophie was one of the few people Rylee would speak to—although still only whispered fragments of sentences. Sophie had also taught Rylee a few basic hand signals, which she used with her classmates and her teacher.

Rylee was a bit of an outlier among Sophie’s students. The majority of the children she worked with had stutters, lisps, or other speech impediments. Some spoke English as a second language and needed to reduce their accents. She’d even worked with nonverbal autistic children before, but Rylee was her first selective mute. The girl was fully capable of speaking, but she would only do it with a select few people. It was a debilitating anxiety disorder.

Lately, Sophie had been trying to give Rylee a toolbox to work with over the summer. She feared that two months without speech therapy would cause the girl to lose all of her progress. Her parents would go over whatever exercises Sophie provided to them, but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing Sophie herself.

Today, the small room was silent. The learning-disability teacher Sophie shared it with was at a meeting. Sophie should’ve been ecstatic about having the space to herself, but the urgency she’d been feeling about Rylee’s language development was gone.

Her mind kept floating back to the events of last night. It felt like a dream, but it had been very real. As far as she could tell, Marsha was an honest-to-God alien, and the implications of that were bigger than she could even begin to think about.

Rylee’s fingers crept into her afro curls, and Sophie gently pushed her hand down, not wanting her to destroy the intricate style her mother had created.

“Try to focus,” she said. And you, too, she added silently to herself. She slid a laminated flashcard in front of Rylee. “Can you read this one, sweetie?”

“I feel happy.” The girl’s voice was barely audible.

Still, Sophie clapped her hands. “That was perfect! Now this one.”

“I feel sad.”

Sophie hoped that getting Rylee to communicate her emotions would enable her to tell her teachers when something was wrong. She’d peed her pants midway through the year because she was scared to ask to go to the bathroom.

But soon she’d be at home, where she was comfortable talking to her family, anyway. Her parents were going to put her in activities over the summer, so Sophie needed to do more to help her socialize with other kids.

She was writing up notes for Rylee’s last few lessons of the year when a knock came at the door. Terry walked in without waiting for her to respond.

He was a kindergarten teacher here, which was how they’d originally met nearly ten years ago. Unlike most of the staff, he understood what a speech-language pathologist did, and he sent her students that needed her help. With other teachers, she had to argue and beg for the children’s time.

When Terry had mentioned a boyfriend, Sophie had shyly said that she was gay, too. He was the first person she’d ever told. And while Terry went through boyfriends at an alarming rate, Sophie had yet to even go on a date—which was as true now as it was back then.

Four years ago, when Sophie had turned thirty, she’d thought it might be the right time to move away from her parents’ farm. Terry had been looking for a roommate, and they’d decided to try living together—a decision that he claimed to have often regretted.

Despite his good-natured teasing, it was wonderful for Sophie to work with her best friend. They carpooled together, which was exceptionally convenient since she’d never learned how to drive. And when beautiful, mysterious, possibly real aliens showed up at their apartment, the roommates could touch base during the day and talk about their next steps.

“I’m going to run home and check on Marsha,” he said. “Do you want to come?”

Sophie grabbed her purse.

They’d left Marsha to her own devices, which made both of them nervous. Neither had an extra phone, so they hadn’t been able to call her. They’d have to get her a cheap one; that would make this easier.

Sophie was surprised by how quickly she’d adjusted to having an alien houseguest in her living room. “Maybe we should pick up some food on our way,” she said. “Marsha should try some new things so she can figure out what she likes.”

Terry snorted as they reached the school’s front door. “And who’s paying for her food while she’s staying with us?”

“I will. I’m the one who found her.”

He shrugged. “I won’t argue with you.”

He left the convertible roof down for their drive, and Sophie relished the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair. “Have you told Gary about all of this?” she asked.

“Nope. He’d probably break up with me on the spot. I’m pretty sure I’m out of my mind for this, myself.”

“He’d believe you,” Sophie said. “If Marsha demonstrated what she can do again, he’d have to believe you.”

“I don’t know about that.” Terry’s lips pinched.

Sophie understood how he felt. The presence of an alien was a lot to take in, and she definitely wasn’t sure that she was handling it right. Should she take Marsha to the cops again? Or to the government? If Marsha was really an alien, didn’t she belong at Area 51?

The nice thing was that for once, Terry was as confused as she was. He didn’t know what to do in this situation any more than she did.

By the time they arrived a few minutes later, Sophie had decided to make Marsha a sandwich out of the few things in the fridge. It’d be nothing fancy, but the only human food Marsha had eaten was the hard-boiled egg Sophie had made for her that morning. With nothing to compare it to, she wouldn’t need anything fancy.

The problem was that, when Sophie swung open the door of the living room, Marsha wasn’t there. She looked at Terry, who seemed equally dumbfounded.

“She might be in one of our rooms,” she said. A quick check proved that idea to be wrong.

“Well, nothing seems to be gone,” Terry said hesitantly. “Maybe she just… left. Went home.”

To her planet. Sophie sucked in a breath. Could Marsha really have figured out how to get back in the few hours they’d been out? The enormity of the possibility was overwhelming. Could the strangest thing that had ever happened in her life really already be over?

 

***

 

Marsha strolled through the streets of downtown Rocksoil, pleasantly surprised by how good it felt to use her arms and legs. This human body was capable of so much more than she was doing with it, and she suppressed the urge to sprint, to wave her arms, to scream.

Her true form was almost what an Earth-dweller might have called humanoid. She had two arms and two legs—but the resemblance stopped there. Her single eye was mounted at the top of a tall, bendable stalk, and rather than fingers and toes, she had retractable projections.

She’d sampled many bodies in her journeys across the cosmos. Every time she teleported to another planet, a new form was constructed out of thin air as a home for her traveling consciousness. She preferred her own body, the one that had been broken down into molecules floating in the atmosphere of HR 8832g. But for the time being, there were worse bodies to be stuck in.

She thought back to the slug-like form she had to slither around in on one planet. If it wasn’t a first-tier planet, one of the key players in the Interplanetary Union, she would’ve never gone back there at all.

“‘Scuse me, miss?” A man was talking to her. He sat on the sidewalk, his back to a wall. He had a straggly beard, and his clothing was unkempt.

Marsha stopped short, nearly causing someone behind to bump into her. “Yes, hello.” This was the fourth human she’d interacted with, and this was the first time she wasn’t sure what they wanted. She hoped she seemed convincing as a human. The last thing she needed was to be dragged to another police station.

“Can you spare any change?”

“Change?” It took her a moment to parse which definition of the word the man meant. “Money? No, I don’t have any.”

He sneered. “You’re full of shit. I know you have something in your pocket.”

There was definitely no money in Marsha’s pocket. Sophie had loaned her the sweatpants this morning, along with a fresh pack of something she called “underwear.” She’d barely managed to squeeze into the pants, and Sophie had had to roll up the cuffs for her.

“Aren’t we all full of shit?” she asked. “May the stars shine their light kindly upon you.”

The man goggled at her as she walked away. Had she said the wrong thing? Maybe the traditional phrase didn’t translate well into English.

Confusion had been her general state of mind since she’d arrived here. While she was grateful that the database provided her with a baseline of knowledge about this planet, it only contained so much information. The last visit here had been in 2000, twenty Earth years ago. The database definitely needed updating.

Keeping her head high, she marched on. She’d realized something during the night over at Sophie’s. Her colleagues on Gliese 832 would’ve noticed she was missing right away. They would assume she’d gotten sick or otherwise indisposed and simply hadn’t notified them.

But time was passing; she should’ve been home by now. And her family and friends back on HR 8832g would be looking for her. She could just picture the three beings that had birthed her freaking out. They tended to worry, and they weren’t too keen on her hopping between planets so often in the first place.

The beings—her parents, as a human would call them—would check the teleporter, and they’d instantly notice the miscalibration. Either one of them would come to this planet, or they’d send a search party for her.

She hugged herself tightly as she spotted the street where she’d appeared the night before. She stood in the middle of the road, halfway between the McDonald’s and the used bookstore. She waited.

A car sped by her, and the blare of a horn pierced her ears. She jumped to one side, then saw another car rapidly approaching from the other direction.

“Get out of the road, lady! Are you trying to get run over?” A strange man grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the street, then walked away, shaking his head disdainfully.

Okay, so Marsha wouldn’t be able to stand in the exact spot where she’d arrived. She could still stay in this area and see if anyone came looking for her. It would be hard to miss if they did. Even if she missed the moment when they shimmered into being, she’d notice someone looking utterly confused and out of place.

Her stomach gurgled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the strange, slimy thing Sophie had prepared that morning. The restaurant she was outside looked interesting. It certainly seemed popular. How bad could it be if so many people were going in and out?

She stepped inside and regarded the menu. Big Mac? McChicken? She wasn’t sure what any of the offerings were, other than being the flesh of different animals. The person ahead of her moved aside, and she hesitantly went up to the counter.

“Please, may I have a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese Meal?” She chose randomly.

“You sure about that?” a man behind her asked. “It might be a lot for a little thing like you. I might have to help you out.”

She shuddered. Creeps were the same on any planet. “I’ll be fine.”

“That will be six sixty-nine,” the cashier said.

How could she have forgotten? On every other planet, she paid for her transactions with her microchip, but of course they didn’t have that here. That was why the man had been begging in the street.

“I’m sorry.” Her stomach was sick. “I don’t have any money. I should go.”

“I’ll get it for you.” The man behind her leered as she started to walk out. “You can pay me back with your number.”

“No, thank you.” She didn’t pause for a second.

She didn’t have a phone number, anyway. And that place had smelled terrible.

Maybe it was time to head back to Sophie’s.

 

***

 

It was past eight in the evening when Sophie’s buzzer went off. She rushed to the intercom, earning herself a doubtful look from Terry. “Yes?” she asked, ignoring him.

“Hi there.” An unfamiliar voice crackled through the intercom. “I’m your neighbor from downstairs. A woman is trying to reach you—says her name’s Marsha. Should I let her in?”

“Yes! Yes. Absolutely.” Sophie hit the “accept” button as fast as she could.

From his spot on the couch, Terry raised an eyebrow. “Is this a good idea?”

“It’s a little late to ask now.”

Marsha knocked on the door a minute later. Sophie’s heart jumped as soon as she saw her. The alien looked pale and flustered, and Sophie could think of about a million possible reasons. If Marsha hadn’t managed to get back to her home planet, where had she been all this time?

“We were worried sick!” Before she could second-guess herself, she’d wrapped the alien in a tight hug.

Marsha’s shorter, curvier frame fit comfortably against her taller, skinnier one. Despite how outwardly different they looked, squeezing her like this felt like a puzzle piece locking into place.

Sophie let her go quickly, pushing that thought out of her mind before it took root. Yes, Marsha was beautiful—gorgeous, actually—but she was an alien. Or she was a lunatic who’d roped Sophie into a shared delusion, which was almost as bad. Sophie was definitely not going to get a crush on her.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. Terry had come up behind her.

“I went to see if a search party came for me,” Marsha said. “They didn’t. Then I tried to get back here, but I didn’t know the route. I’m not the best with directions.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sophie said, and Terry snorted.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Marsha asked.

“Of course. Oh my God.” Sophie stepped out of her way. “Mi casa es su casa.”

“Gracias.” A stream of rapid-fire Spanish poured out of Marsha, far too fast for Sophie to keep up with.

“Maybe we should stick to English,” Sophie said. “Except, you know, I was at my Latin class earlier. Maybe those databases of yours can help me with my homework.”

“So I can stay here?” Marsha asked, slipping off her shoes.

Sophie sought Terry’s gaze. Once he nodded, she lit up. “Yes, Marsha. You can stay as long as you want to.”