Chapter 5 - Lonely Hearts
“How did you find out where I live?” Petey demanded, looking at Ajay seated comfortably in his living room, having coffee with his wife.
Ajay blinked. “I found an ad in the paper… this has got to be a mistake.”
“Can I speak with you alone?” Petey turned to Jenny.
Jenny smiled at Ajay as she followed Petey into the bedroom, unsure what was going on, but aware that some people didn’t react well to first meeting her husband. “This will just take a minute,” she called back.
“What’s going on?” Jenny asked. “You plan on scaring away all out prospective tenants?”
“No, just that one. He’s with the paparazzi. He came in today and took a picture of me at work!”
“You think it was because you’re an alien?”
“No, I think he’s just doing a piece on local service workers. Obviously it’s because I’m an alien!”
“We’ve got to rent him the room then,” Jenny sighed sadly.
“What? If we rent him the room we’ll be letting him watch our daily going ons, he’ll just be gathering more information for him exposé! He’ll meet Johnny.”
“And if we don’t? He’ll definitely run the story. He’s already got a picture of you. He knows where we live. Our only hope is to convince him we have nothing to hide. That there is no story. Besides, he seems like a nice guy, maybe he won’t run a story that he thinks will endanger us.”
Petey sighed. As much as he thought he’d learned in his time among humans, Jenny always seemed to know more. “Alright. Let’s go meet the new tenant.”
---
Tank lifted weights, hit the punching bag, and ran the obstacle course at his house on a daily basis. But sometimes his natural shyness was trumped by his need to get a low impact, full body workout, and on those days he had to turn to the community swimming pool.
Ripp had invited him over to the Smiths’ pool once, but he knew it wasn’t a real invitation, just a jab at Tank, and how if he were as good at kissing green ass as Ripp was he wouldn’t have to parade himself around in public.
Tank didn’t like going out in his swim suit. He knew he was young and fit, and so he wasn’t body conscious, he just didn’t like being on display. His father had always taught him that a healthy body was a tool. It was good to be bigger or stronger than the other guy, there was usefulness and pride in that. The way people around the pool treated their bodies, showing off for the opposite sex - or the same sex, Tank didn’t care - was just vanity and Tank didn’t like being a part of it.
So when Kendal approached him getting out of the pool, he hadn’t half a clue what to do.
“Hey, you’re General Grunt’s son, right?”
Tank nodded, and started to walk off.
“Hey, wait up!”
Tank waited. He recognized the girl from school, but didn’t know her name.
“I’m a military brat too. Both my parents are in the service.”
Tank nodded, still not sure what she wanted from him, “Always nice to meet someone who values service to our country,” he said politely before continuing on.
Kendal fell into step behind him, “So does that mean you’re going to join the military too when you’re old enough?”
“Yeah, my dad’s been planning for it since I was a little kid.”
“That’s great. My dad says the military is what separates boys from men. It builds character,” Tank couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that their fathers were cut from the same cloth.
“You’re a pretty big guy, I bet you could beat up any guy in our class. I bet you could beat up that guy over there right now if you wanted to,” she gestured with her chin to another teenager enjoying the pool.
Tank shrugged.
“But you won’t. You’ve got discipline. I like that,” she paused. “My mom says it’s unbecoming for a girl to ask a guy out, and that I should wait for boys to ask me out. But seriously, how long are you going to keep me waiting?”
--
Ajay fidgeted uncomfortably in the living room. He thought about running, and he thought about listening in on the bedroom door, but in the end neither seemed like especially good ideas.
At last, Jenny and the alien from the gas station emerged.
“Hi, sorry about that. I’m Petey, Jenny’s husband. I just wasn’t expecting us to have a tenant so soon.”
“Hi, I’m Ajay.”
“So, I feel we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. As you have no doubt noticed, I have a hereditary skin pigment disorder. When coupled with Strangetown’s reputation, you can see how publishing wild stories about it would make lives difficult for my family and I.”
Ajay nodded.
“I only wish the truth was more exciting for you. But it’s a common misconception, nothing to feel embarrassed about, so we’d still like to offer you that room if you want it,” Petey finished, Jenny holding his hand supportively.
“Sounds great. Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Ajay extended his hand and smiled. There was more to this story than he’d thought, and he’d be damned if he passed up an opportunity to get to the bottom of it.
Petey beamed back and shook Ajay’s hand in what he had been taught was a masculine and forceful way. Now the Smiths only had to do what they did best: act like a normal suburban family.
--
Circe was late, Vidcund noted. He knew her well enough to know that she was never late, not for classes in med school, not for appointments, not for movies. Not if it was something she cared about. He was worried he’d be drunk by the time she arrived, but whatever chance there was of that was fast disappearing as the bartender continued to pass by him in favor of more stylish patrons.
Vidcund sighed. This always seemed to happen to him when he went out. He could program DNA sequences with ease, but he couldn’t make the correct combination of shirt, jacket, pants, and shoes to present that ineffable quality of a person who mattered. Worse, Vidcund didn’t know if this treatment was brought on by his less than fashionable attire, or something deeper in the very core of his being that made him so easy to pass by. He suspected the latter.
“Vidcund!” Circe approached his spot at the bar, turning heads as she went. Circe was like that. Where another less secure woman might have relied on navel reaching necklines, a short skirt, or too much make up, Circe’s dress was classic and unaccessorized, hinting at her tall lithe form, but not displaying more than the calves.
“Sorry I’m late,” she smiled at him in a way that let him know she really didn’t care how long she’d left him waiting.
Vidcund couldn’t be hurt too badly; he was too busy enjoying the way the bartender’s jaw had dropped when Circe sat next to him. The bartender sauntered over, careful not to seem like she was rushing. “Can I get your order?” Amazing the service you could get just for having a pretty woman with you.
“Scotch, no ice, chilled glass,” the bartender started to walk off, but Circe leaned over the bar and tapped her shoulder. Vidcund once again marveled at his ex-girlfriend’s forceful nature. “The nice stuff,” she told the bartender. “Some of us can taste the difference. And my friend will have…”
“One fuzzy navel, please,” it was a drink Lazlo had introduced him to in college, and was about the only thing Vidcund could stand the taste of. “We can move now that you’re here.” Vidcund gestured to a more dimly lit corner of the bar, with a cushy candlelit booth.
“No, thanks. I like sitting at the bar. Those booths always make me feel like I’m on a date. But how are you doing? How are Pascal and Lazlo?” Circe leaned in and rested her chin on her hand, and Vidcund felt like the only other person in the world - despite the fact that she was asking about his brothers.
“Pascal’s on some new research trip. I don’t know what it’s about, but it seems to be making him happy, which is a nice change. He’d been moping ever since… his last research avenue didn’t pan out,” Vidcund was not about to mention the abduction to Circe.
“Is he still doing topology?” Vidcund nodded to her query. “Messing around with four dimensional shapes… That stuff’s for theoretical mathematicians. There’s no money in it. No practical applications either, unless you want to answer a few questions about universe formation. And really, it’s already formed, so why bother?”
“Well, he seems to think he’s found some way to use it,” Vidcund tried to steer the conversation away from an attack of his brother’s research. “Lazlo started dating some girl in the military. A blonde.”
“Makes sense. I can’t picture Lazlo not charming the pants off some ditzy young thing.”
Vidcund shrugged noncommittally, “I know this sounds weird, but I think she’s not ditzy enough for Lazlo,” he sipped his drink and winced. “Oooh, they made this too strong.”
Circe raised her eyebrows, “And you? Are you seeing anyone?”
Vidcund scanned the room, trying to find anywhere to look besides Circe’s eyes. His gaze landed on a young couple making out in the booth he had suggested to Circe a moment ago.
“Well, I always kinda thought we’d get back together.”
“Viddy!” Circe shoved his arm playfully, “I’m married!”
Loki. How could he express his utter contempt for Circe’s husband? He often felt that he would have been able to accept it if Circe had left him for a handsome man, one with white teeth and a news anchor’s face. He would even have been able to take it if Loki were a more sociable man, who knew funny stories to tell at parties, who would know what to say to comfort Circe when she was sad in a way Vidcund never would. Vidcund could list his own faults until the cows came home, but he still didn’t see what Loki had that he didn’t.
“I know, I just thought you’d change your mind.”
“Oh god,” her eyes widened, “you’re serious aren’t you? I’m not changing my mind. We’re actually trying to have a baby. Who knows, I might be pregnant already!”
Vidcund took a long drink of his fuzzy navel to calm his nerves, then thought for a moment. “Should you be drinking?”
Circe paused, “I guess I can show you; there’s no way you could beat us to market,” she hiked up her skirt, revealing one of her tanned thighs. On it was a small devise, not terribly unlike an insulin pump. “It removes toxins from my blood. Mostly just alcohol so far, but trials are promising and we’re hoping in the future it could have applications like portable dialysis.”
Vidcund couldn’t help but marvel. Forgetting Circe’s thigh completely, he reached out to examine it. Circe smoothed her skirt back down.
“See Vid, Loki and I do great work together. With a little luck, I’ll have changed the face of medicine before I even complete my residency. You could be doing this kind of work too if you just got into the private sector.”
“I’m doing important work! The genetically modified plants I’m working on could bring an end to problems with the world’s food supply.”
“You’re still working on high yield soybean plants? How exciting,” Circe deadpanned.
“It is exciting! And we’re not just working on soybean plants! We’re doing genetics and cross pollination research far beyond what we even thought was possible ten years ago.”
“I’m sure it’s great,” Circe patronized, shutting down his argument and checking the time on her cellphone at the same time. “Look, I’ve got to go, but this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime? And Vid, I’m sorry I said anything about your work. As long as it’s making you happy, right?”
“Right,” Vidcund smiled weakly and waved at her departing form. He was decidedly not happy.
--
Tank sat on the steps out front of the Grunt family home, deep in thought.
A voice startled him, “You told Dad you were going out to run the obstacle course.”
“Yeah, well I’m not,” he glanced at his little brother, hoping the kid would go away.
“Why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad. I’m thinking.”
“Oh,” Buck never knew what would make his dad or his big brother angry. It took a moment before he dared ask again. “What are you thinking about?”
Tank was silent for a moment before he replied. “I went on a date with this girl.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Yeah, she was, but she didn’t seem to like me. She acted like she did, but it was like she wanted me to be Dad.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah.”
“Mrs. Smith says that people who are worth it will like you for you. And nobody else matters.”
“You’re not supposed to be hanging around the Smiths,” Tank lectured, knowing it was what his dad would do, but not really caring.
“Right. But she still says it.”
“Well things are a lot more complicated than that,” Tank considered Kendal again. She was a military woman, strong, forceful. She should be his perfect match. Yet something inside him didn’t feel right. The fact that something inside him felt at all was weird to Tank.
“When ever Jill’s mad at me I bake her a muffin or make her a drawing and then she’s happy again. Maybe you could do that.”
“I don’t think that’ll help, Buck,” Tank stared off, his brain creating mirages in the desert landscape. “Nobody likes me, why should she be any different?” He kicked at the sand.
“I like you,” Buck reached over for a hug as Tank got up.
“You don’t count. You like everyone.”
--
A note for my non-drinking readers: A fuzzy navel is orange juice (navel oranges) and peach schnapps (peaches are fuzzy). As it tastes like fruit juice, it's usually ordered by college girls new to drinking who don't like the taste of alcohol. Neither component tastes strongly like alcohol the idea that the bartender made Vidcund's too strong is absurd, and was me trying to illustrate that, as much as I love him, he's kind of a wimp.
An apology about the pictures: I ran into some problems with the pictures for this chapter, namely that for some reason when I went into the catalog to buy things for the community lots featured in this chapter, I couldn't buy a pose box. So that's why there's no posing, and no face overlays, for the bar, or the pool. This made the pictures look repetitive to me for Circe and Vidcund's scene, which made me really self conscious that they're just sitting and talking for a long time, which made me sad because that was the scene I'd felt best about before.
Was it too long and drawn out? If so, I need to be told, or else I'll never learn. *sigh* But hopefully I'll figure out how to fix that for next time.
Thanks to everyone for taking the time to read this silly little story. You guys are the best.