Page 71 of The Alien I Fell in Love with on Walpurgis Night

I look inside. It’s a black box with a green light. I put my hand over the light, trying to work out how to open it, and the box just opens. Inside is a slim silver suitcase. It looks like something from a movie. I look around to see if anyone is watching me. There’s no one here but me. I take the suitcase out of the box. I open it. There’s a lot of money in it. So much money. I close it again. Look around. I’m still alone. I open the suitcase again. It’s Swiss money. I think it’s a lot. Who would give me this money? What did I do last month?

I can think of a lot of illegal things I might have done to get this money. Drug mule, pornography, or murder, but I can’t remember any of it. Maybe it’s a gift that I can’t remember?

I carefully set the suitcase to the side and close the box and put the floorboard back. Then I look around the cabin for anything else that might be a clue to what happened to me last month, but there’s nothing here out of the ordinary. With the suitcase in hand, I close the door to the cabin and leave. I put the suitcase in the passenger seat of the car and drive back to the hotel. How am I going to explain all of this money?

I’m not. I decide firmly I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m going to sneak it on my person and in my carry-on bag back home. No one will think someone like me has this much money on them. Then I will slowly pay off my debts with it and open a bakery.

A few months later.

I look over at the doctor and say firmly, “I can assure you that this isn’t a pregnancy.”

“Georgie, blood tests don’t lie. Here are some vitamins. You need to think about who the father might be and let him know.”

“But I’m a virgin. I’m not pregnant,” I didn’t want to admit that, but I’m worried there’s something seriously wrong with me and no doctors are taking me seriously.

“Fine. Pull up your shirt. Let’s do an ultrasound. I know I’m the third doctor you’ve seen. I want to prove this to you so that you can prepare. You can’t continue to be in denial or you are going to harm this baby.”

The doctor turns on the machine and wheels it over next to where I’m lying down. She puts some cold gel on my stomach that is larger than usual, but I’ve been eating more lately too. “Now,” she says, as she rubs the machine over my abdomen. “There we are. You see that? That’s a baby. Do you want to know the sex?”

“How is this possible? I’ve never had sex.”

“Maybe your child is the next messiah?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Neither is you saying you’ve never had sex when clearly you have or a supernatural being has blessed you with a baby.”

“What am I going to do?” I ask the doctor just as much as I’m asking myself.

“No one is ever prepared to be a mother. You’ll be fine. Just be happy you found out now and not on the child’s birthday. Those are the worst. Women come into the emergency room thinking they have food poisoning and they walk out mothers.”

“That would be worse,” I agree. “When will this child’s birthday be?”

“January maybe February.”

“So soon?”

“Do you want to know the sex?”

I stare at the ultrasound. I hear the machine. It sounds like a heartbeat. “Yes.”

“It’s a girl. Congratulations.”

I can’t help it; I begin to cry. “Can you recommend a therapist? I honestly have never had sex. I think I might be losing my mind and I must have been raped somehow right?”

The doctor gives me a genuinely concerned look and calls her nurse over to help me while she makes some phone calls. “Georgie, we are going to recommend you to an exceptionally good stress center for a few days. Just to get your head around things. Is there someone we can call that can take you there?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any family in town and I need to go to work tomorrow. I can’t go to a stress center. I’m new to my job, I just graduated, I don’t even have vacation time yet.”

“This is more important. I’ll make sure you get all the paperwork for a proper medical leave of absence. They don’t always go through but sometimes.”

“I can’t,” I say. “My work isn’t like that. I’m going to lose my job.”

“Georgie, you are pregnant. You don’t know how you became pregnant, and you just had a panic attack. I’m not allowing you to leave here alone. I will cancel the rest of my appointments and drive you to the stress center myself if I have to.”

I resign myself to this for the moment. Maybe one night in a stress center might be good for me given the situation.

31

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