Page 107 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

“Are you saying I’m dirty?” Glynnis demands. “I was really careful with the fermentation process! It’s beneficial gut flora, not—”

“Let’s just eat,” Mom says tightly.

I have a sinking sensation that lasts for the rest of the meal. Mom and Glynnis talk to each other, ignoring Tam and me. He tries to interject a few times, but Glynnis talks over him. By the end, he is slowly, silently eating his sad chickpea dinner, one by one. I’m so mad at them that I can barely stop myself from snapping.

Tam goes to the bathroom down the hall, not to use it but to take a break from the tension. In his absence, Mom and Glynnis head to the kitchen together to get dessert he can’t eat. I follow, intending to help, so I’m right outside when they start whispering.

“I can’t believe he’s allergic to kombucha too,” Glynnis mutters.

Mom sounds annoyed. “There’s something so weird about him. Did you notice how he never smiles?”

“Maybe he’s got autism or something.” Her scathing tone says everything.

“And the way he speaks is strange too. I have no idea what Jennette sees in him.”

“Any warm body will do?” Glynnis suggests. “She’s so desperate for validation. She doesn’t even have real friends, just losers she met online in some weirdo club. It’s no wonder Nina stopped answering. She messages me on social sometimes.”

Wow. That really fucking stings. I want to leave without saying right now, but if I do, they’d know I heard every word. And then they’d explain how they’re not wrong for talking like this about me since it comes from “a place of concern.”

This is where Mom defends me, right? When we’re together, Mom tells Glynnis to stop sniping at me.

Mom sighs. “I’ve tried to support and understand her differences, but her behavior is abnormal. I’m so tired of walking on eggshells and digging so deep for something positive to say. Good Lord. Is this the best she can do? His hair can’t naturally be that color.”

“What?” Glynnis seems surprised. “But—”

“What’re we talking about?” I ask breezily as I step into the kitchen.

I can’t let them compare notes right now. Once I get Tam home, I can choose never to let them lay eyes on him again, and they can argue about who’s right about his hair color until the cows come home. As a long-term solution, avoidance sucks, however. Although the way I feel right now, I might just stop answering their calls for a while.

“Nothing,” Glynnis says.

“Can I help?”

Mom shakes her head. “No thanks. I’ll cut the cake. Give me a few minutes.”

“Actually, I need to get home and feed the cats. Thanks for dinner.” I speak through my teeth, biting back the anger.

Thanks for nothing.

I don’t wait for a reply. I feel like I might choke on bitterness. I knew that my family wishes I was more normal, but I didn’t realize that every interaction felt like a chore, and they’re bending over backward to be “tolerant.” I really miss my dad right now.

When Tam comes out of the bathroom, I snag him. “Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t I thank them?”

“Nope.”

We leave without another word. In the car, I say, “They were talking smack in the kitchen. I’m too pissed to hang around.”

“I’m sorry. It did not go well.” That’s a statement, not a question.

“Not your fault, nothing to apologize for. I just don’t fit in with them. For them, it feels like work to interact with me.”

“It’s their loss,” Tam declares.

“I’m glad you think so because you’re kind of stuck with me.” I don’t mean for that to sound so depressing but it’s accurate, and it makes me feel like I’m holding him hostage.

“Untrue,” he says softly. “I’m here because I want to be. I plan to stay with you.”