Page 69 of Invasive Species
“‘Welcome home’ would be fine,” Ellen says, smiling at Ilia, and I realize she means for him.
For all of them.
“Absolutely.” At my request, Gara fetches my paints, and I do my best to ignore the tremble in my hand as I attempt to shape simple letters. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Every stroke feels like a struggle. I manage to create two garlands before my energy drains away completely. That’s it—I’m done, exhausted and tapped out. Shit, this flu is really screwing with me.
“Maybe I should be right at the back, so I don't infect anyone,” I say to Ellen. I don’t want to leave, but exhaustion drags down my limbs and back like shackles.
She gives me a look she probably gives her sick lambs, full of concern. “Of course, sweetie. If you need to, you can go back to bed. I promise we won’t start without you.”
“No, I want to be here.”
“I know, but if you’re not well, you’re not well.”
Gara takes my hand, turning it over and placing his big warm fingers against my pulse. He’s frowning again, jaw ticking like he's dynamite about to blow. “You may have ambitions to remain here, but perhaps you should curtail activities and return to bed early.”
I raise an eyebrow at Ellen and my friend winks at me, pushing a sweaty strand of hair out of her face as she bustles away. But despite the double entendre, I hunker lower. “I just want to say hi to everyone. That's curtailing ambitions enough, right?”
Gara looks stormy but he doesn't protest further.
Ellen does her thing organizing everyone, getting the triplets to put out a trestle table for the pizzas. Ilia prepares the wine and beers, placing them to chill in a bucket full of ice, and Arture arranges nibbles in big bowls. Gara sets up the projector at Ilia’s command, and the triplets hang a white sheet at one end of the tent. They’re all walking a bit stiffly; Arture straightens up the linens, glowing eye focused like they’ll be measured and judged later, and the trio go stand along one side when they don't have anything to do, staring over my head.
They're nervous.
“Hey, it's going to be fun,” I tell them in my croaky voice. “You can smile a bit, let your hair down.”
Arik rubs his hand on his head. “We don’t have much hair.”
“Should we?” Dom asks me.
“It’s an idiom,” Gara interjects before I can explain. “Arra-bellah speaks in cryptic, pithy phrases.”
“Pithy. Best word ever,” I say, grinning. “What I mean is, you can relax. It’s actually a great idea to have a social event between us.”
Especially since two of us have entered relationships with aliens. Even with my shit math I can tell a fifty percent uptake rate is pretty neat. When Laura finishes work and Nicole gets here, I wonder if they'll gravitate toward someone?
As if on cue, Laura comes in. She slides her gaze over the triplets, eyes snagging on purple-eyed Dom for like half a second. Interesting.
I wave and Laura saunters over, settling next to me and taking my hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Been better.” I explode with a sneeze that came out of nowhere. “Fuck. You’re better off steering clear of me, I think.”
She leans away from me. “Did you catch a cold out there?”
“Seems like it.” I raise a finger as another sneeze hovers right in my sinuses, threatening, but it passes. “Okay, okay, I think we’re safe, but my voice is crap.”
“It needs rest.” Gara slides next to me, thrusting a pack of tissues into my hand. Where’d he get those from? Ellen’s medicine cabinet?
“Oh thank heavens.” I grab a handful and noisily blow my nose. “Thanks, you saved my life.”
Ellen clatters in with several jars balanced on a stack of plates. “I managed to get the dough out of the freezer earlier but I haven’t been able to stop for a second to roll it out, nor had time to shop for toppings. Nicole is bringing those down and she’ll be here in forty-five minutes or so, she’s finishing up an operation, but I’ve got so much to do before then!” She dumps her load on a spare table, the glassware rattling.
Laura jumps up. “Here, I’ll help you with that,” I say, at the same time Dom says, “Female, let me assist.”
And oh shit, Laura glares at him like he stepped on the toe of her favorite heels. I slap my hand over my mouth. It was worth coming down just for this show.
Ellen gives them instructions and runs off, and Laura andDom stand shoulder to shoulder at the table. Well, shoulder to ribs, maybe, given Dom is huge. Big, and purple, lilac scales on the top, pink ones near Laura, spreading like a stone thrown in a pond… or a field of alliums and lavender, waving in the wind...
“Arra-bellah?” Gara’s hand swims in front of my face. Green and glinting, like emeralds.
