Page 122 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

“They will,” Poppy agrees.

Tam hasn’t spoken a single word since dropping that conversational bomb. He’s not looking at me either. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and I’ve never felt so cut off from him, not even when we were only talking online. In fact, it’s like he’s already gone.

I clear away the dishes while the others amble into the living room. As the day inches forward, the others are trying to cover the silence with nervous laughter, and I’m a spectator, watching a play where everyone knows their lines but me.

It’s not even noon, and I want to retreat to the loft, pull the covers over my head, and never come out. I try doing that, but Tam comes up and tugs away the illusion that everything is fine, along with the blanket. I should act like it’s okay, but I can’t.

Angry words spill out instead. “You should have told me first.”

“I didn’t tell Ravik. They knew. They have equipment, and they happened to ask about it last night. You were talking to—”

“Oh, so I’m not there for you. That’s what you mean?” God, why am I being so petty?

Don’t be a dumbass.

“I do not believe I said that.”

But my mouth is on auto and I can’t shut up. “This is probably for the best. We were already struggling to make this work long-term. My family doesn’t like you. And we can’t even take pictures together. Everything is built on a lie.”

He pauses. His arm—no, his extensor—hovers in the space between us, and then he retracts it.

“Is that how you truly feel?”

I don’t answer, rolling onto my side so the air mattress makes an awful farting sound. This is the worst day in my whole life, and I’m counting the time I got food poisoning after eating poorly cooked chicken. Eventually, I hear the soft sound of Tam retreating.

Nobody bothers me for a while, and I eventually fall asleep. Judging by the shadows, it’s near dusk when I rouse. The memory of what’s happening hits me like a hammer upside the head. I slink down the stairs, unable to face Tam or anyone in this condition. I should shower or eat or pretend to be a normal human but instead, I’m a ball of unraveling emotions, just hissing and spitting all over the place. It’s like when Spock gets all grumpy and chases Scotty around the house over a stupid toy mouse.

I find Poppy outside, away from the others, watching two squirrels that seem to be having a vicious argument.

“This sucks,” I whisper.

“Jen,” she says gently, and that’s all it takes.

Tears spill over, hot and relentless. Poppy opens her arms without a word, and I step into the hug with weary gratitude. “I can’t do it. I can’t watch him go.”

In her embrace, I break, knowing she’ll help me put the pieces back together again. But even as I cry, I wonder how much of me will be lost once Tam leaves Earth. She pats my back gently and doesn’t bullshit me. I’m sure she knows that I’m losing the love of my life.

Not to death or indifference but distance.

“What’s the alternative?” she asks.

“I didn’t even really unpack. So I can just grab my bag and head out quietly when everyone’s asleep tonight.”

She eases back to arm’s length, frowning. “Are you sure you won’t regret that? Even if he’s leaving, you need closure. He probably does too.”

“Closure is for flesh wounds, not emotional ones.” Maybe that sounds glib, but it’s also how I feel.

There are no magical words that make a parting like this feel fine and will leave me well adjusted. Miraculously not feeling like part of my soul has been slammed repeatedly in a car door. This is why I always planned to die alone and get eaten by my cats, damn it. Romance is too painful, and happy endings obviously aren’t meant for weirdos like me.

Now if Jaz could play a tiny violin for me, everything would be perfect.

“I think you should take some time. Think it through. Maybe talk to Ravik or Jaz. Or even Tad. See what they think.”

I clutch her arm before she goes back inside. “Don’t tell anyone I’m going, okay? I’m trying to avoid a painful scene, and if you alert the rest of the crew, it’ll be so messy.”

“I’m going on record as saying I think this is a mistake,” Poppy says flatly. “But I won’t spill your plans either.”

“Thanks. You’re a good friend.”