Page 33 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

He didn’t explicitly state “I love you” in the letter. It just didn’t fit. It sounded false, just like all those love quotes the drone had gathered for him. But maybe he could tuck the word “love” in somehow.

“Sign ‘Love, Walter,’” he said to the drone, wincing at the sound of the boyfriend’s name. It cut across his hearing like a false note in a song. But it had to be done. He couldn’t possibly put his own name there.

Once done, he made the AI read the whole thing to him one more time.

And yes, it did feel more personal. The signature might say “Walter” but these were Kear’s words. He meant what he wrote. He wished to be there for Maya. She tried to be strong, dismissing his concerns to his face, but maybe she’d find it easier to express her worries in writing. If he knew exactly what bothered her day to day, it would make it easier for him to help her.

“Change the language and send.”

He stared at the drone as the words of the Voranian language morphed into that of the language Maya spoke, then melted away from the screen as the letter was sent.

One phrase from it imprinted into his mind’s vision, lingering long after the rest was gone.

“I missed you...”

He rubbed his chest, feeling these words particularly acutely for some reason. An hour at lunch didn’t seem like enough time with her.

He hadn’t taken Maya to an outdoor park yet. Maybe he could do it this week?

Chapter 12

Maya

“This is acax fruit.” The professor handed me a long juicy stick curved into a multi-colored spiral. “Not very nutritious,” he noted under his breath with a frown, “but it won’t hurt as an exception to the rule once in a while.”

I giggled at him trying so hard to justify feeding me a treat, then grabbed the curly string out of his hand before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Aw, you’re spoiling me, Professor,” I teased, biting into the end of the stick. If uncurled, it’d be probably as long as my arm, and it was as thick as my thumb. It felt like rubber in my hand, dangling like a long skinny sausage. But the inside was soft and cool, with a fresh fruity taste. “Oh, it’s good. Are you not having any?”

I noticed he only brought one acax fruit, and he wasn’t going for another one, taking a seat on the park bench next to me instead.

“I don’t usually eat those.”

“Why not? Not enough nutrients for you?”

“Exactly.”

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