Twelve

 

On Monday morning, Sophie told Marsha it was time for her next humaning lesson. She’d gathered a few resources: second-hand copies of Our Bodies, Ourselves and The Complete Book of Etiquette, and she gave them to Marsha where she lay in bed.

“I’ll look at them later,” Marsha said lazily, brushing them aside. “Can’t we just hang out?”

“I thought you were such a workaholic back home,” Sophie laughed. “Studying to be human is your job now.”

“We did that all weekend. Isn’t the Earth way to take the weekends off?”

Sophie could never say no to her. “Fine.” She sat next to Marsha. “What do you want to do, then?”

“Sleep.”

“Marsha, it’s past ten in the morning.” She gave her a gentle shove. “We should think about what you’re going to do when you do get a job.”

“Can’t I get paid for sleeping?”

“At a government facility, you probably could.”

Marsha opened her eyes to scowl at Sophie. “What other jobs are there?”

“Under the table, not that many.” She’d been thinking about how to get fake papers for Marsha, but that was totally out of her realm of experience. It seemed almost as impossible as getting Marsha back to her planet. “I know a guy who owns a restaurant. I could check if he needs any waitresses. That might make it easier to get hired.” The hardest part for Marsha might be passing a job interview.

“Who’s the guy? One of your exes?”

Sophie blinked. “No.”

She still hadn’t mentioned to Marsha that she was gay. It wasn’t a secret, exactly. She was closer to Marsha than to Terry by now, but telling her was different than telling Terry. He’d been a safe option because he was gay, too. Marsha would understand since there were no limits on sexuality in her culture. But then she might guess that Sophie was attracted to her, and that would mess everything up.

“I knew him from college,” she went on. “He was an English major, like me, but he was just doing it because his parents wanted him to have a bachelor’s. His passion was for cooking, and after he graduated he got a diploma in culinary arts. His restaurant was doing pretty well the last time I heard from him.”

“You were never interested in him?” Marsha asked, rolling onto her back to look up at Sophie.

“No.” Why was Marsha fixating on this friend of hers? She’d never asked much about her love life before. Sophie supposed it was payback for her questions at the park. “He’s not exactly my type.”

Marsha wasn’t the first to ask these kinds of questions. Her sisters had pestered her about finding a man once she’d started to leave the farm, and her classmates in college and grad school had told her she was a total catch. Her coworkers at the elementary school seemed surprised that she wasn’t married by now. Even her parents had hinted at wanting to see her settle down with someone.

She’d come up with certain vague statements to deflect people’s attention. “Not my type,” or “I’m not looking to date.” For a few years, she’d had good luck with “I’m just working on myself right now.” She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant herself, but people seemed to accept it.

For the most part, people seemed to come to the conclusion that she was asexual or simply not interested in romance. It wasn’t the case. She would’ve loved to meet someone if the right person came along. She just couldn’t talk about it.

Marsha wasn’t going to give up so easily. “What is your type?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said. You, she thought. “You’re being nosy.”

“Don’t humans ever get nosy?”

“Yes, and it’s annoying from them, too.” Sophie stood up, her heart beating a little faster than usual. “You should read these books. They’ll be good for you.”

“When was the last time you dated someone?”

Sophie froze, looking at Marsha with wide eyes. “Why are you asking me these things?”

“Because I’m curious. You’ve never told me.” Marsha turned onto her front, putting her chin in her hands with her feet swinging in the air. “Why don’t we ever girl talk?”

“Did you hear that phrase in a TV show?” Sophie’s shoulders were tense. “We’ve girl talked before.”

“About my love life, not yours.”

“I’m single. There’s not much to tell.”

Marsha raised both eyebrows. “And how long have you been single?”

“About thirty-four years,” Sophie muttered. She’d had enough of this conversation. “I’m going to make pancakes for brunch. Do you want some?”

“Why are you so secretive about this?”

“I’m not being secretive.” Sophie crossed her arms. She’d always told herself she would tell Marsha the truth if it ever came up. Here it was, coming up. “My type is women. Not a lot of people know. As in… one person. My parents wouldn’t be okay with it if they knew. I’ve never dated anyone, and I don’t plan to start anytime soon.” She took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding. “Does that explain things to you?”

Slowly, Marsha nodded.

“I’m going to go make pancakes.”

 

***

 

Marsha gazed at the crowds swarming into the mall. It was busier than any place she’d seen so far, which made sense since Sophie said shopping was a hobby for many humans. It was strange to think that humans spent so much of their time buying new things that would just sit at home. Sophie said sometimes they bought clothes just to wear them while they went out again and bought more clothes.

“I can’t believe I forgot to get you a business-casual outfit,” Sophie murmured beside her. “And now you have your job interview tomorrow.”

“I still don’t see why I can’t wear my shorts and a T-shirt.”

“Maybe we need to spend a little more time on your humaning lessons, then.”

Marsha followed Sophie into a big, brightly lit store, where Sophie rapidly searched through the racks and pressed different garments into Marsha’s hands. She stayed quiet, knowing she’d pushed Sophie too far this morning. She’d wanted Sophie to open up to her, but not to the point of making her upset.

She couldn’t understand why Sophie hadn’t told her about her sexuality in the first place. Sophie knew she herself was open to any and all genders in the known universe. Was Sophie embarrassed by her lack of dating experience? Marsha wouldn’t judge her for that, either—although she did think it was rather adorable.

“This looks like your size,” Sophie said, putting a crisp white shirt into her hands. “Although you might be a small.” She gave Marsha another.

Marsha could barely hold onto all the clothes Sophie was giving her. Sophie seemed different from normal—curt and almost unfriendly.

“Excuse me,” a worker said. “Only six items are permitted in the fitting room.”

“All right,” Sophie said. “Go try these on.”

The worker pointed Marsha toward the fitting rooms, where there was a desk in front of a hallway of cubicles. She tried to go inside, but the staff member behind the desk stopped her. “How many items?”

“Six.”

The young, bored-looking girl made a hand gesture Marsha didn’t understand, then heaved a loud sigh. “Let me count them.”

Marsha handed the clothes over. When the girl had confirmed she had six pieces of clothing, she gave Marsha a tag with the number 6 on it. Marsha looked at the tag, then back at her.

Sophie appeared at her side. “You just take it with you and give it back after. You don’t need to do anything with it.”

“Can you come in the room with me?” Marsha asked. Who knew what other rules she might not realize she was breaking?

“Only one person at a time in the fitting room,” the worker said.

Sophie sat on a couch in the middle of the room while Marsha went inside. The only other person around was the store clerk, which made Marsha comfortable yelling to Sophie through the wall. “I’m sorry about this morning,” she said as she pulled her T-shirt over her head.

It took Sophie a moment to reply. Marsha was about to repeat herself when she finally did. “That’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“I did know. Terry told me.” She took a white shirt off the hanger and frowned down at it. How did this work?

“He what?”

“Sophie, come in here and help me.” She swung the door wide open to show Sophie the shirt. She hadn’t worn a bra since their discussion about them, but that was fine. Sophie knew what a human body looked like.

Sophie’s eyes popped, and she quickly covered them. “She said I can’t, remember? It’s a plain button-down shirt. You can figure out how it works.”

“I don’t get it.” Marsha pulled at a button. Oh, that was how they worked. “Okay, maybe I get it.”

“Put it on. And what do you mean about Terry?”

“He thought I knew.” Marsha undid the rest of the buttons, then put her arms through the sleeves. She opened the door again to show Sophie. “How does this look?”

Sophie groaned. “You have it on backwards!”

“Oh.” Marsha swiveled to close the door, the warm air brushing over her bare back. “Oops.”

“I’m not mad at you. Or Terry,” Sophie said. “I can see why he would’ve thought that.”

“I wish you had told me.” Marsha turned the shirt around, frowning as she started to button it up from the bottom. This was going to take forever. She couldn’t imagine doing this every day. “But I understand. I’m glad you told me eventually.”

“Well, you’re the second person to know. You should feel honored, really.” Marsha opened the door again, and Sophie’s eyes widened yet again. “You really need your bra for that one. It’s very close to see-through.”

“I won’t get it, then.” She set it and the other white shirt aside.

A black shirt was next, one that she could pull over her head rather than buttoning down. Sophie nodded when she saw it. “The fit isn’t perfect, but at least it’s not X-rated.”

“Shouldn’t I look for one that fits better?”

“Not today. I can’t take much more of this.”

Marsha changed back into her normal top, then stood there, doing nothing. Something about talking to Sophie through the wall made it easier to have this conversation. “Do you think you’ll tell more people? Not your parents, but other people?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Sophie said quietly.

As Marsha picked the clothes she wasn’t buying off the hook, she searched through her database. “What do you mean?”

“I might tell other people, if or when I ever get a… If I start seeing someone.” She gave Marsha a forced smile as Marsha came out of the fitting room. “My sisters might be okay with it. I guess I’m just scared to take the chance that they won’t.”

“But most people would be fine with it.” Marsha gave the tag with the number back to the store clerk, like Sophie had said, and gave back the clothes she wasn’t buying as well. “What do you think about lesbians?” she asked the girl.

The clerk didn’t blink an eye. “They’re just like anyone else.”

“See?” Marsha grabbed Sophie by the arm and tugged her toward the door.

Sophie babbled out nonsensical words, seeming flustered. “You shouldn’t have—You can’t—I didn’t—”

Marsha ignored her. “Wait,” she said. “Where are we going with this?”

Sophie stopped walking and simply shook her head. “To the cash register, Marsha.”

 

***

 

Sophie lay in bed with her legs bent, her laptop balanced against her thighs. Marsha had left a few minutes ago. Terry had offered to drive her to the job interview, but she’d said no—she wanted to take an Uber there and walk back like a regular human.

Sophie tapped through a few posts on Facebook, then sighed and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe her little alien was at her first real job interview. She had a good feeling about this. Damian had said he was desperate for waitresses.

Still, there were so many ways Marsha could screw it up. Sophie had wanted to go along with her to the interview, but obviously that would’ve looked completely bizarre. She pictured Marsha saying something totally inappropriate with a big smile on her face, the way she always did. Or exposing herself to the interviewer the way she’d done to Sophie.

She rubbed a hand over her face as she remembered that moment in the fitting room. She’d been so careful not to name what they were talking about, keeping it vague until the very end, when Marsha had practically outed her to that store clerk. And yet the world hadn’t ended when the clerk found out Sophie was a lesbian. She’d seemed supportive—to the extent that she even cared.

Sophie wondered if her coworkers might react the same. And her sisters—they were all the same age, surely homosexuality wouldn’t be too strange to them. Sophie would never come out to her parents, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be more open with other people.

She looked at the Facebook homepage again. What would happen if she went on her profile and changed the “Interested In” section to “Women”? She laughed softly to herself. She doubted she’d ever be that open.

She put the laptop aside and sat up, then frowned and lay back down. She felt antsy, but there was nothing she could do until Marsha got back and told her how the interview had gone.

She managed to pass the time for an hour, and then she picked up the phone. Damian had given her his number when she contacted him about Marsha, and now she dialed him.

“This is Sophie,” she said when he picked up. “Did you and Marsha finish the interview?”

“Yeah.” They’d been part of a fairly close friend circle back in the day, bonding over the ridiculous amount of readings and editing each other’s essays. She hadn’t actually heard his voice for years. “I’m glad you warned me she’s a little quirky, because she did come off as eccentric.”

“Oh, no. What did she do?”

“Nothing bad,” he laughed. “She just seemed a little unsure of herself, and she didn’t have much to say for the questions about her experiences with other jobs. It was as if she’s never worked before.”

Sophie grimaced. “Did she get the job?”

“We’re going to give her a trial shift and see how she does—paid, of course. She’s definitely enthusiastic and friendly. I’m just hoping she can be professional as well.”

“She can!” At least Sophie hoped she could. “Thank you for giving her a chance. She really needs this.”

“No problem. Like I said, we haven’t been able to find enough decent waitresses lately. If anything, she’ll be helping us out.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I have to ask, though.” His tone got serious. “What’s the story with her documents? Is she illegal, or…?”

Sophie stiffened up. “Yes, pretty much. She’s working on getting her green card, though.” She added the lie at the last second to make it seem more realistic.

“I get that,” Damian said. “We’ll see how things go. By the way, the gang should get together again sometime. It’s been way too long.”

“You know, it really has.”

She hung up smiling just as the apartment door creaked open. She jumped up and hurried to congratulate Marsha.