It's Funny How They Do That . . . (Pt. 3)

The silence stretches on, so much so that Ellen wonders if she actually said it aloud this time, or only whispered it. Do you still love me? is what she thinks, but it feels too contrite to say aloud.

“I. . . What kind of question is that?” It's his normal voice when he's annoyed, but there's a bit of a quaver in it. She senses it more than hears it and another awkward silence begins. In the window's reflection the dashboard clock is reversed and she watches the minutes tick by. One, two, three, they begin to pile up in a familiar way.

“The kind that I should've asked long ago.”

And then a huff. There was a time when Ellen would've punched him in the shoulder and laughingly scolded him for huffing at her, for being a “petulant porpoise,” she'd always say, and laugh. The noise sounded different then though. I wonder if the Ascari pair up for life, she thinks, They do have two genders, so they must pair up, right? Bernard is silent for the rest of drive, staring straight ahead, his breathing even and steady as she stares at her hands, folded neatly in her lap.


The sun sets as the car drives itself towards the town home, prompting Bernard to take control once again as it nears the driveway. The garage door opens and they glide in, slowly coming to a stop. “Can you plug in the car? I did it last time.”


“Yes, dear.”


“And the dishes, can you unload the dishwasher?”


“I already did, Bernie, and I wish you wouldn't always remind me like that.”

She plugs the power cable into the socket inset in the front bumper of the car and as she looks up she sees a redness creeping into his face. “Dammit, I said I don't want to be called Bernie anymore! Why don't you ever listen!”


“I do.”


“Oh for god's sake, never mind. I'll go start dinner.”

***

Bernard is asleep when she starts reading about the Ascari. Pouring over the internet she's amazed at how little there is to find. So many opinionated pieces on what the Ascari mean for humanity, most either overly ominous or entirely too optimistic, and interspersed with mostly 'slice of life' articles about peoples reactions to the landing, and to everyday life beside them. Whole libraries worth of books analyzing the effect that contact with alien sentient life had on the worlds religions. Stories of all the sects that formed and quickly waned in the last few years since the Ascari had come. All stories, but none about the personal lives of the Ascari. None about their love lives, or lack their of.

But then she finds one. A blog by a young man in Portland who made it his mission to befriend an Ascari and seek to understand their home lives, their loves and their passions.

Two genders, yes, and mating in pairs between the two, yes, but romantically? The blogger found that the Ascari work together well in teams, work together well in general, but romance? The sex, they understood. That's biological. But more?

It must be a sad life. So sad, to not know love. That lone Ascari, people watching, she'd never thought before that the Ascari she'd seen had almost always been alone. Alone, unless together as a group on some project, usually on some public works project they were helping humans to complete, or some tour group being guided by a human. Any other time, alone. And maybe not.

***

The car chirps twice to alert her it's her turn to take control, that it's leaving the automated circuit and must be piloted manually. Ellen shakes her head out of its thoughts and grasps the wheel, still unused to driving herself, though she's owned the car for all these years.

“Yes, I'd like a double Americano with soy milk, please.” She smiles at the cashier. He smiles back and thanks her by name as he slides her card back to her across the counter and she blushes. She's not seen him at the coffee shop before and it seems so long since someone has looked at her like that. Curious. Interest piqued.

“Oh! And I forgot, could I also have one of those . . . Oh, I never seem to remember what those drinks are that the Ascari like.”

“A frazono? That's what they all seem to buy, anyway. Can't imagine you having one though, eh, Ellen?” A wink, and she blushes.

“Ha! No, for my friend. . .” She glances over her shoulder at the Ascari, at least she thinks it's the same one, sitting alone at the same table. Watching the people walk by and interact with an empty cup in front of him. “Thank you.”

The alien seems to be closely examining something across the street, through the window and through the customers inside, but when she approaches it the eyes centered on its . . . head, or what passes for one on the Ascari at least, look at her, narrowing. After a moment of silence the other two focus on her as well and she takes a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, I really don't mean to bother you, it's just, well, you know I spoke to you some time ago and it was a bit of a help to me and—Here, I bought you a refill.”

“That chair is not being used.” A pause. “If you would like to occupy it.”

“Th-thank you, thank you. And this, for you.” She slides the drink across the table and a little sloshes out, glistening on the wooden surface.

“Many . . . Thanks, kind human. This is much appreciated and will be seen as a sign of respect and kindness to my race.”

“I'm glad. I, you know, I doubt you remember me, but--”

“I remember you, yes. We had a . . . Nice conversation one day.” The alien's voice is broken and robotic through the translator, but she imagines a bit of warmth in the clicks and burbles that come out of it as English. “You had a companion during our last conversation. I see that is no longer the case.”

She chokes and coughs, caught off guard by the brusqueness of it all. “Yes, yes I did. Um, but I . . . I just wanted to say thank you, though you probably won't understand why.”

“I will try, kind human." It blinks. She never wondered before if they blinked. "What is your name?”

“Oh, well, Ellen. That is my name. And yours?”

“You may call me Erthnop, as it is close enough. Eelieen. A nice name . . . yes?”

“I like to think so, Erthnop.” She smiles again and blushes once more. Funny how she can't seem to manage a smile without a blush to go along with it. I guess I'm still getting used to it, she thinks.

The Ascari stares at her with all four eyes, but it doesn't feel like a stare and she can almost sense concern in that bizarre, alien face. He is waiting. “You know . . . Erthnop, I came to say thank you. You said something then, and I'm so glad you remember that time. You said that, well, there was a word in your language that meant . . .”

A long pause and the Ascari's eyes are so narrow that the dark black pupils are barely visible. “Yes, kind Eelieen? What did this one say?”

“You said there was a word that meant 'the joy one feels when one realizes there is still much to discover.' I think, Erthnop, that I'd like to learn that word.”

***