Ben was relieved to see that awe had trumped terror in Andre’s case. The creature lifted a small hand with long slim fingers up to mirror Andre’s. They didn’t touch. “So.” Ben cleared his throat and, modulating his voice very carefully, said, “I think they must be connected to the light, right? So, it’s like, an . . . alien?”
“An alien? From outer space?” Not moving her hand or taking her eyes off the creature, Andre began to giggle. For a minute, she covered her mouth to contain the bubbles of hysteria that were threatening to surface and foam out of her. Eventually, she took a deep breath and sat back on her knees, sniffling. “Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t understand.” She looked from the creature to Ben and then back to the creature. “I don’t understand what I’m seeing. I’m waiting for this to be a joke, but I don’t understand how that”—she pointed—“could be a joke. It’s just . . . it would be too expensive.”
“It’s not. At least I don’t think it is. I wouldn’t know. I hope it is.”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were wet, but from what emotion, it wasn’t clear. “You do?” She sighed and gazed at the intruder with rapture. “Not me. I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.”
The tablecloth had come down to reveal a neck and shoulders.
Andre glanced anxiously at Ben and then smiled. “What is your name?” she asked it. “I’m Andromeda. Andre for short,” Andre said, pressing her hand against her chest. “Aaanndree,” she repeated.
It gave a tiny nod. Andre turned to Ben and looked at him expectantly.
Ben lost it then too. “Me, Ben.” He hunched over and teared up with laughter, finally feeling some of the beer he’d consumed. “Aw, c’mon,” he said at Andre’s scowl. “It’s so cliché.” He gestured at the creature, and his laughter trailed off.
“Ben.”
They both started at the sound. It was one syllable, but the voice was like seeing a new color. The pitch was suffused with preternatural beauty. If a pink star diamond or the buds of a cherry blossom could speak, it might sound something like what they’d just heard. A delicate finger pointed to Andre. “Aandree.”
Andre beamed and nodded. “Yes.” She licked her lips and scooted a little closer to the creature. “What is your name?”
It looked from one of them to the other and then down. Andre wondered if it understood, or maybe didn’t know the answer, but then it touched its forehead and slowly dragged a finger down the middle of its face, along the bridge of its nose, continuing over mouth and chin. It closed its eyes, opened them slowly, and said, “Shae.”
The sound of the voice made a pleasant shiver run down Ben’s spine. Notes of music chimed in his head, like bright colored leaves being swept by the wind and flowing down a dull-colored, vacant street.
Andre took a deep breath. “Why don’t we get some of this shed cleared out? It’s a mess.” She wrinkled her nose. “And . . . I’ll find something for it to wear?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said quickly. Compelled by a notion that it was basic, cursory etiquette to offer a guest somewhere comfortable to sit, he said, “Why don’t you sit here, Shae?” He motioned to a child’s beach chair that was open and just a few feet to the right of where Shae was crouched.
Apparently understanding, Shae stood, and the tablecloth fell away. Shae was naked, female, and not a child. Ben dropped his eyes.
“The fuck?” He rubbed his forehead, keeping his eyes averted. He looked around as if taking in his surroundings for the first time. “Yup, I’m going to start moving all this crap out of here. She needs somewhere to stay.” He propped open the door with a fifteen-pound metal weight he found lying nearby. Some years ago, lifting them was supposed to have become a daily habit. He began grabbing items at random and moving stuff out to the yard.
“Are you sure you want all that stuff out here?” Andre asked. “Where are we going to put it?”
“It was your idea.”
“Oh, yeah.” She laughed giddily.
Jesus Christ, we’re in shock right now. Ben heaved a heavy-looking box with newspaper sticking out of the top that touched the bottom of his chin. “It’s mostly junk. I’ll dump it off at the thrift store or the dumpster.” He stepped outside, set the box down, and looked at Andre, plaintive. “Could you find something for her to wear?”
Andre nodded and then looked pained and slammed her hand over her mouth. She ran out of the shed and back into the house.
Over the next hour, Ben pulled almost everything out of the shed, avoiding looking at or getting too close to Shae while Andre was sick in the bathroom. When she finally reappeared in the backyard, she looked much better, elated almost. She clutched a flowered, sleeveless shirt. “It might fit her as a dress.”
Ben followed as she stepped back into the shed and stood in front of Shae, who sat in the beach chair with her knees up, arms clasped around them–a relaxed pose, and yet she seemed ready to spring at any moment.
“Want to try this on?” Andre asked.
Shae looked at Andre, at the shirt/dress, then back to Andre. Andre bit her lip. “We usually wear clothes.” She indicated her garments, running her hands over her jeans and tugging lightly on the fabric beneath her armpit. The shirt was snatched from her.
“I’ll be back.” Ben wiped at his forehead with the heel of his hand and went inside the house for another beer. He was agitated and feeling the effects of alcohol on an empty stomach. Drinking more wasn’t wise, but a part of him genuinely feared he was losing his mind. He felt taut as a bow and was courting hysteria. He didn’t know what that would look like full-blown and didn’t want to find out.
It was as if a curtain which had surrounded him his whole life, to the point he was unaware of its existence, had been lifted away to reveal he didn’t know anything. It made him inexplicably angry. Like he’d been lied to. He was an animal who’d spent its life believing the large, comfortable cage it dwelled in was the world entire, only to be released into a vast and unending country. He didn’t trust the ground under his feet to remain solid.
He doubted Andre was angry. She seemed okay, all things considered. He wondered what Amy would say. No doubt, she would find out eventually, yet the thought of telling anyone else frightened him for reasons he didn’t look at closely.
The door opened, startling him. Andre poked her head into the kitchen. “You coming back out?”
Chapter THREE
The girl-alien-thing looked kind of cute. The shirt was too big for her—like a burlap sack—and she wore it as a dress. Andre had contrived a belt out of a ribbon.
She frowned. “I’m gonna have to buy some little kid clothes and alter them? I’m not much of a seamstress.”
They stepped back out of the shed once it was satisfactorily clear and moved a few paces into the yard and out of sight of Shae. “Do you think this is safe?” Ben pulled out his phone and checked the time. It was almost four. Where had the day gone? He scratched his head. “I mean, should we just leave her alone, or do you think we should, you know, keep an eye on her?”