Page 67 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“I heard you the first time, Miss. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re not authorized to enter.”

“Just call him!”

The soldier finally picks up a phone and asks the person at the other end for the status on Stenikov’s ship. “Please verify.” He holds up a finger telling me to be patient. Sure, easy for him. He’s not in jeopardy of losing the love of his life. “Okay, thanks. I’ll tell her.”

“What?” I ask, eager to enter.

“You have access, but I’m sorry to inform you the ship already left.”

“No, you’re mistaken. It’s only 4:30. He doesn’t leave until 5.”

“The control tower ordered him to lift off early since we needed the space for incoming ships from Keenar. Sorry, Miss. I confirmed it. There’s no mistake.”

I sink to the ground, unable to process that Sten is gone. Thirty fucking minutes. I was on time. But he’s still… gone.

I don’t know how long I sit on the freezing ground before two soldiers pull me to my feet and another gives me a cup of coffee to drink. Someone says I’m in shock and they wonder if they should call a medic.

Not shock.

Heartbroken. Shattered. Destroyed.

This can’t be real. I couldn’t have missed him by thirty minutes. This has to be a prank.

What do I do now?

I find myself standing on a crowded bus. How I got here, or which bus it is, is a mystery to me. Glancing out the window, I recognize the neighborhood. I’m headed home.

When I walk through my parents’ door, my family sees my expression and they smother me in hugs and sympathy. Everything after that is a blur. Somehow I end up in bed, a place to lick my wounds, to clear my head, except I don’t want to. I burrow under the covers and wallow in self-pity. This is all my fault. I should have followed my heart and not tried to grab the best of everything. I can’t have my cake and eat it too. Ultimately, my mom was right. I was too cocky, too sure of myself, about so much.

Not that any of that matters now. I’ve lost Sten.

Nothing matters. Nothing at all.

“Dinner, Golda,” Mom calls from downstairs.

“Not hungry,” I reply.

A few minutes later, Bubbe shouts up to me, “Time to light the candles, Goldala. We’re late tonight, but we still need to light them.”

I glance at the clock. 8pm. I can’t celebrate the holiday. I’d only drag everyone else down. They shouldn’t be miserable because I am.

“Go ahead without me.”

Staring out the window into the clear night sky changes nothing, but it reminds me of Sten. Somewhere up there, among the thousands of stars winking at me, is my sholan.

I close my eyes, hoping to dream about my sweet alien.

* * *

My eyes burnfrom crying and I can’t sleep, despite how hard I try. I need to sleep. Not because I’m exhausted, mentally and physically, but because it will be the only way I get to see Sten again. I don’t even have a picture of him. Never thought to pull out our only camera, the one we use for special occasions because it’s ultra-expensive buying film and getting it developed. I have no foresight for anything in my life.

The doorbell rings. A moment later, Dad calls up. “Package for you, Golda. Come sign for it. I’m helping your mother with the dishes.”

My parents will do anything to drag me out of bed. I fling the covers back. I’m going down once and only once, to tell everyone to leave me alone because I need to sulk, cry, and beat myself up for being an idiot. I swing out of bed, ready to lash into my loving family because I know they can and will take it. I’m still wearing my boots. Such an odd thing to think about when the rest of me is falling apart.

When I trudge downstairs, dad’s clearing the dinner dishes from the dining room table while Bubbe sips a cup of coffee on the sofa.

“Don’t just stand there, Goldala, let the poor delivery man in before he turns blue from the cold,” Bubbe says.

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