Page 6 of Sky Song
A movement drew Cricket’s gaze up from the pretty flowers flanking her porch steps. The curtains in the window of her neighbor to the right, Mr. Sulys, undulated, parting briefly to reveal fluffy brown fur.
“Well, hello there, Hipper,” Cricket murmured.
Their homeowners association prohibited house pets. Moreover, Meeus’ laws prohibited keeping native animals as pets. Hipper was both, and even though Mr. Sulys did a good job at hiding the creature, a complete subterfuge was impossible in such tight quarters. So, Mr. Sulys pretended to not have a pet, and his neighbors pretended to not notice fluff between the curtains and ignored occasional muffled howls.
Smiling to herself, Cricket opened the door and was about to step inside when she saw a lone figure walking down the street, heading away from their row of houses. Her gaze sharpened. From afar, he looked like a man, either a very young one or an older boy, shoulders hunched, his silhouette blurred by the gathering dusk.
Cricket’s old experiences stirred, bringing forth a rush of alertness. He looked a lot like a human, but he wasn’t one. Maybe to the locals he’d pass, especially in the semi-darkness, but she knew with certainty he was an alien.
Uneasy, she watched him disappear from sight.
He wasn’t a Perali - their legs bent backwards, a distinctive trait. A Tarai? A Tana-Tana? Regardless of his race, how could he be walking around Shadush all by himself when even the esteemed symposium delegation had to have constant escort? And what was he doinghere, in this secluded residential district?
Instead of going home, Cricket knocked on the door to her left. It opened to reveal Paloma in all her gray sweatpants and sweatshirt glory, feet encased in thick gray socks.
“Hi there.” Paloma checked the rapidly darkening sky. “You’re home early.”
Cricket waved her off. “Will tell you about it in a sec. Listen, have you seen any strangers hanging around here, by chance?”
Paloma’s arms lowered and her expression lost some of its playfulness. “Strangers? No. Can’t say I pay much attention, though.”
“I just saw one. A guy. Well, an alien guy.”
Paloma’s deep violet eyes opened wide. “An alien?Here?” She was regarding Cricket like Cricket was unwell.
This incredulous look was making her doubt what she saw. Maybe her earlier session with the honored guests at the hospital agitated her more than she cared to admit, brought back memories of Earth, and now she was jumping at shadows.
“I could swear I saw an alien man walking thataway,” she said, less certain now, and waved weakly in the direction of the street the alien had taken.
“What kind of alien?” Paloma asked quietly, further eroding Cricket’s confidence that she'd seen someone who didn’t belong.
“I don’t know. I couldn't tell.”
“Why don’t you come in,” Paloma invited after a small pause.
The inside of Paloma’s house was the exact replica of Cricket’s except much messier. Paloma wasn’t much of a homemaker. She wasn’t much of a career woman either, or a sports enthusiast, or a gardener, or a political activist, or anything that Cricket could remotely identify as a passion. Except for gaming.
A tricked-out computer system with an enormous projection screen dominated the cramped living room that barely contained the desk holding the peripheral equipment. On the screen, as per usual, a paused game displayed a realistic Viking-looking character frozen in violent action.
Paloma rustled in a cupboard and produced two cans of Canseso lemonade, throwing one to Cricket. Catching it, Cricket discreetly checked the expiration label. It never hurt to be aware of what you were about to consume in Paloma’s house.
Pressing a spot on the can lid to pop it open, Cricket took a small sip, and in broad strokes described the alien delegation to Paloma.
“Wow, that’s an… unexpected development,” Paloma murmured, pensive, and drummed her fingers with chewed-up nails on the desk. “And now everyone knows you’re from Earth. Are you upset because of that?”
“They already knew. And I’m not upset!” Cricket denied, her vehemence confirming the exact opposite.
Paloma raised her hands in a gesture of mock surrender.
“I’m not upset,” Cricket repeated, calmer now. “Not about that, anyway. I’m just… You’re right, it was so unexpected.” She pressed both hands to her face and rubbed hard, trying to clear her head. “Seeing the aliens, talking to them brought back so many memories. My home. Mama.” She wasn’t going to cry, dammit.
Paloma’s soft steps approached, cushioned by the ugly thick socks. She lowered next to Cricket on the ratty narrowsofa, carefully avoiding bodily contact. That was, in essence, the nature of the relationship between Cricket and Paloma. They were close, but an invisible wall divided them. Each talked to the other freely about their respective pasts, yet left the most important things unsaid. And they both knew it.
Paloma was the closest thing Cricket had to a friend on Meeus. Close, but not quite.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come over and get intense.” Cricket sipped her lemonade.
Paloma smiled a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay. Let’s just say you had a shitty day.”
