Page 114 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

“I’ve been thinking about what you showed me before. Your homeworld,” she adds, as if it’s possible for me to forget a memory walk.

“Have you?”

“Of course. It was so beautiful. Like paradise compared to here.”

“Maybe. But it didn’t have you.”

She emits an amused sound. “That was buttery smooth.”

“It was honesty, not an attempt at charm.”

“I’m not used to anyone feeling that way about me. I’m the weird one, not someone who receives romantic declarations.”

“You are now,” I say.

It is irrelevant to me how other humans perceive her. To me, Jen is a small miracle.

We cross the bridge slowly, reaching a grassy area that leads down a winding path to the pond some distance from the couple offering treats to the local fauna.

“I’ve never told anyone this… I mean, Mom and Glynnis know, obviously. But…it’s so embarrassing. Do you know what prom is?”

The term is unfamiliar. I have consumed a great deal of human entertainment but there’s still much for me to learn. “No. Is that an abbreviation?”

Jen tilts her head, seeming surprised by the question. “You know, I have no clue. Just a second.” She checks her phone, then says, “I guess it is. It’s short for ‘promenade dance.’ Basically, it’s a social occasion in high school. You get a date and dress up. Lots of people lose their virginity that night too.”

“It seems like a coming-of-age ritual,” I say.

“Do you have those on your world as well?”

“Assuredly. Affirmation Day is an important one. But don’t let curiosity prevent you from finishing your story.”

“Right. Anyway, all my friends had been asked already. The only people who hadn’t been were the forever-alone types. Including me. And Glynnis was teasing me. My mom asked if I wanted my cousin Ronnie to take me.”

A cousin is a biological relative. Since this promenade dance is meant to be a romantic outing, there must be a stigma attached to participating with one’s own kin. But I ask for clarification instead of making assumptions. “What did you say?”

“I said I would take care of everything. I ended up asking everyone I knew, even people I barely knew or liked. Rejections everywhere. I’ve never been so sad or humiliated before or since. I was so desperate to go—to fit in—that I even bought a dress without having a date locked in. But in the end, I didn’t go. I was too embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry.” Though I can entirely understand her pain, it’s clear to me that this is a memory that causes her great discomfort even now.

“I wish I’d been bold enough to say, ‘To hell with a date. I’ll have fun on my own. It doesn’t matter if others don’t see me as a viable partner.’ I could have tagged along with Drew and Nina.

“But I didn’t want to butt in or make them feel obligated to include me. Because of that, afterward, I dated anyone who showed the slightest interest, even if we weren’t a good fit. And secretly, I thought I’d end up living alone with cats for my entire life.”

“You like cats.”

Jen laughs softly. “It’s true. I do. When I gave up on the idea of having a traditional romance, that’s when I met you. And I’m determined not to mess things up because I’m scared. Mind you, I agree that we have stuff to figure out. There are…challenges. But I think we found each other for a reason.”

Now I understand why she shared this story. Just as I didn’t fit on my world, she’s always felt out of step in hers. But together? We are two halves of a whole with moving parts that still function somehow.

“I agree.”

Since she shared with me, I indulge the impulse to reciprocate. “I was supposed to create something great, a lasting work for Affirmation Day.”

“What is that, by the way?”

“It is a cornerstone of our culture, a day where we gather.”

“Like a festival?” she asks.