Page 8 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

Jaz taps her fingers on the Formica tabletop, seeming to think it over. “To be honest, I don’t much like my given name. So I’d rather be Jaz. If that’s okay with everyone else.”

“Definitely!” I glance at SquidHead. “How about you?”

“Much as I enjoy this guy…” He makes the plushie dance on the tabletop. “My name is a tad less embarrassing. It’s Tad, by the way. And yes, that was a little joke.”

“Jen works for me, both ways. Short for Jennette.”

The waitress hurries over with a harried smile, clad in an iconic pink diner dress with ruffled white apron. I think I’ve seen this uniform in multiple eighties sitcoms. “Did you decide what you want? Or do you need another minute?”

“I haven’t even looked at the menu,” I admit.

Jaz adds, “Give us five minutes, please. We’re just getting settled.”

“I’d love some iced tea if that’s an option,” Tad says.

We add our drink orders quickly and the server jots them down. “Coming right up.”

The menu offers typical diner fare like burgers, chicken tenders, and patty melts. I decide on a Reuben sandwich as Jaz and Tad debate the merits of the Tex-Mex bean burger versus the mushroom Swiss melt. I’m hungry enough that everything sounds good. When the waitress stops by again, we place our order. Watching a man devour perfectly golden french fries lightly dipped in ketchup, I let my mind wander a little. So hungry.

Suddenly Tad says, “Oh, there he is now.” He gets up and waves, impossible to miss at his height.

“Wait, who’s joining us?” I ask.

“Seeker!” Jay says. “Did you miss that part of the convo?”

Oh my God. I didn’t plan for this tonight. I should have changed my clothes and put on some makeup.

I’m not ready to meet my online crush right this second.

4

Seeker

I’m always nervous when entering a new environment.

Will technology keep me safe?

And where is the nearest exit if it malfunctions? Pausing, I memorize the escape route before I move away from the front of the diner. The other humans have shared identifying markers about themselves in the communication hub, and I recognize SquidHead first, exceptionally tall and entirely lacking in cranial fur. He lifts an appendage tentatively as I thread my way toward them.

Two female humans are present. Based on qualifying characteristics, one of them is JazzyPlum. She is slight with short cranial fur. The other woman is Jeneticist. There is no explanation for my certainty, but she feels familiar, possibly because we’ve been chatting privately outside of the group. She is the smallest of three, but also the roundest. Humans come in all shapes and sizes.

As I move toward them, I ready my explanations. I don’t have any belongings other than what I’m carrying with me, but I have gleaned enough of their consumer culture to grasp that they will find that strange, so I should dodge any discussion of what I own and refer to a practice called “minimalism” if they become insistent.

“You must be…” The male hesitates, tilting his cranium to assess me thoroughly.

“Seeker.” The one who isn’t Jen seems to have no doubt who I am, which I find curious.

In our chats, I’ve given no clues regarding my appearance, mostly because the technology I developed is inconsistent. Due to differences in brain chemistry, I might look different to Jeneticist, JazzyPlum, and SquidHead. If they compare notes, they’ll find it strange. The camouflage isn’t meant to withstand prolonged scrutiny; that’s why I’ve spent the last 363 days in relative isolation.

And why I’m risking my safety to meet the beings who kept me sane and grounded during the loneliest and most difficult period of my existence.

“And you’re Jeneticist?” I guess.

“Jennette. Jen works.” She gets to her feet, showing teeth.

Human smiles are deceptive. Some Terran mammals display teeth for aggression, but that’s not the human custom. It’s a welcoming demonstration, a promise that they won’t use those teeth in a hostile fashion. Not that I think they could do much harm with them. Their chewing apparatuses are generally blunt and square, more akin to the mouths of herd-grazing herbivores than dangerous predators.

“And I’m Jaz,” the other female says.