It's Funny How They Do That . . . (Pt. 2)

“Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?”

The Ascari looks up at her with the front pair of its two sets of eyes. The eyes watching her are narrow and black and centered in the middle of what she guessed is its forehead, while the other pair consists of one eye on each side of its head. These second eyes look just like human eyes, if a bit larger and more round, and Ellen can see them follow the comings and goings of the other costumers. A sharp, sour smell of lemons hangs over the table, barely palpable. 
 
“That chair is not being used,” the Ascari says, its voice coming flat and mechanical through its translator. “You may take it.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I was going to ask. I was, um, wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I sat down with you, and we could…get to know each other?” Her voice trails off in embarrassment, and a heavy feeling like a stone makes itself at home in her stomach.

The silences stretches for an uncomfortably long time. Bernard is still at their table reading his newspaper, but his voice creeps into her head nonetheless. For Chrissakes, Ellen, what are you doing, bothering the thing? Leave him alone before you make a bigger fool of yourself.

Ellen is about to apologize and walk away when the Ascari asks, “What would you like to know?”

Ellen lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. She pulls out the chair and sits down, and her questions come rushing out in one half-relieved, half-excited, breath.

“Well, you see, my husband and I were just speaking about the many theories about, you know, well, hm. . . maybe you don’t? My husband says they’re all rubbish anyway, but we were discussing all the conspiracy theories out there about the arrival of your people to our planet, and I was wondering if you, um, had any thoughts on the matter?” Again, her voice trails off, and she sits in an embarrassed silence. Who wants to be badgered by these kinds of things over coffee and breakfast? He…she…it…isprobably regretting ever having let her sit down.

But again, the Ascari doesn't speak right away. Ellen doesn’t know if it is because its translator needs time to process all that she said or if the Ascari itself is trying to figure out how to answer the crazy woman sitting at its table. It does keep its front pair of eyes on her, though, which is a good sign if she’s remembering all those culture classes correctly. The ones on the Ascari the government politely encouraged everyone to take before the landing.

“There are many theories about our arrival among your people,” the Ascari says, finally. “Most are incorrect. Our first public visit to your world was a carefully orchestrated event by both the Department of New Worlds Contact and your Federation of Republics. It was an event many years in the making.” 
 
“Really?” Ellen’s coffee cup stops halfway to her mouth in surprise. “They told us all you were coming a few months before you actually got here. I mean, before your people got here. We were all quite excited, too.” Ellen gently lays her coffee cup on the table, her voice soft and wistful. “I think all of the government types were worried we were all going to go off the deep end but most of us were really happy. We felt like we'd made it, you know? All that dreaming and philosophizing that our grandparents and great-grandparents had done, and now we were really going to meet aliens! It felt like a dream, almost.” 
 
Ellen takes a sip from her now lukewarm coffee, lost in old memories. She remembers Bernard banging on her front door, how she had answered to find him panting and out of breath. But his eyes and cheeks were flushed with excitement. Had she heard? Was she watching the news? What did she think? Could she believe it? Real aliens! And how, a week later, still as excited and jubilant as he was when he first heard, he had twirled her around in the snow and they had their first kiss. 
 
“Yes, it was quite an event back home as well,” the Ascari says, and Ellen reluctantly lets her memories slip away. “Everyone gets excited when a new space-faring species is discovered. We have a word for it…it does not translate into your language well. It means 'the joy one feels when one realizes there is still much to discover.' We Ascari are old, and we have learned much. But every time we feel as if we have found everything there is to be found, the universe proves us wrong.” The Ascari wobbles his head back and forth in a way that Ellen wants to think is the Ascari version of a smile.

“Really? What are Ascari celebrations like?” Ellen never has thought of the Ascari as a celebrating kind of people, but before the Ascari can answer, a shadow falls over the table.

“What are you still doing over here, Ellen? You’re bothering him.”

“We were having a conversation, Bernard.” Ellen tries not to let agitation creep into her voice.

“Well, while you’re conversing, we’re going to be late. The eight-ten leaves in a half-hour, and you know what traffic can be like.” 
 
Ellen sighs but rises from her seat. “Thank you for the conversation.” She nods her head. The Ascari aren’t ones for physical contact; something about sensitive skin if she remembers correctly, and the Ascari’s head wobbles again.

“Thank you as well. It was a very nice talk.”

Outside, Ellen presses her thumb into the lock on her car door, standing back as the door opens with a whoosh. She ducks into the passenger seat as Bernard settles next to her in the driver’s seat. 
 
“I can’t believe you bothered him for so long, Ellen,” he says as the car’s dash board lights up and comes to life.

“I wasn’t bothering him, I think he really was enjoying our conversation.”

“Just being polite, probably.”

Bernard eases the car into morning traffic. Ellen turns away to face her reflection in the window. Again, she looks sad. Why does she automatically start looking sad whenever she is with Bernard?
Ellen fiddles absent mindedly with the tarnished golden ring on her finger. “Bernard, do you ever remember what it was like when we dated?”

“I remember two kids who didn’t know any better.”

There is a long pause. Minutes pass in the silence of the car's anti-septic cabin and Ellen is lost in her own reflection in the window.

“Bernard, do you still want to be married to me?”