Page 96 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

Jen doesn’t say much along the way, opting to sing along with music she plays in the vehicle from her phone. The other conveyance made multiple stops, but we only pause once en route to use hygiene facilities and move around. She gets food, but I have no need. The protein beverage I ingested earlier is still being processed. Human bodies are remarkably inefficient.

Hours later, as we enter the town limits, Jen gestures. “This is it.”

There is a cheerful green and orange sign that declares “WHERE OREGON BEGINS.” She makes a number of turns, and soon we park in front of a rectangular building, single-story, trimmed in white brick on the bottom. There are two doors on either side.

“It’s a duplex,” she says. “Nancy is my neighbor. She owns the building and I pay rent once a month.”

“I’m familiar with the concept.” I too have paid for lodgings on 97-B, though I never met any of the people who trusted me to occupy their properties.

She hops out and starts unloading our belongings from the back, but before she can pick up a bag, I collect everything since she drove us here safely. I should contribute as much as I can wherever possible. I am unsure of the rules regarding cohabitation, but we did manage to share a single room without incident. Her home will likely be larger.

Jen unlocks the front door, which is green. She turns the knob and I follow her across the threshold. The air inside smells of verdant growth mingled with less readily identifiable scents. Comforting smells, however, not unpleasant ones.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jen says.

Humility in her words, pride in her eyes. Jen’s home suits her, especially the decor, related to all manner of extraterrestrial entertainments. The couch is gray and overstuffed, and she has a whole corner dedicated to herbs and houseplants. Framed movie posters on the walls add color and personality, films such as Queen of Outer Space, Forbidden Planet, Attack of the Crab Monsters, The Man from Planet X, and Devil Girl from Mars.

She follows my gaze to the walls. “I haven’t been able to watch all of those. I love old science fiction but it can be tough to find.”

“I don’t imagine they’re on…” What is the entertainment service I have watched in multiple dwellings?

“Netflix. And nope. Quick walking tour—here’s the kitchen on the right. Laundry closet on the left. Now we proceed into the living room. Through there, two bedrooms—I use one as an office-slash-guest room—and the bathroom is between them.”

I survey the space, which is definitely larger than the motel room. She has curious furnishings, tiered shelves with fabric and ropes attached. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this before.

“What are those?”

“Oh, cat condos. Their litter boxes are hidden in the box at the bottom.”

That does not explain anything. A condo is a human domicile, I believe. And I know what a cat is. But I doubt that she gains any meaningful income from subletting her residence to domesticated felines.

“Cat condo?”

“They climb on it. It’s a toy they can sleep on or claw up if they feel like it. Otherwise they’ll shred my stuff.”

“I will bear in mind that they can be aggressive.”

“So, what do you think of the place?”

“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “The atmosphere suits you.”

A flicker of movement catches my eye. Two feline creatures bound toward me, their tails held high like antennae searching for signals. This must be Scotty and Spock, Jen’s quadrupedal companions. One is fairly round, covered in short tangerine and cream fur and with wide yellow eyes. The other is slender, the shade of a thundercloud with a wise and pointed face, angled eyes so light green that they are practically translucent.

“Meet the boys,” Jen says. “Scotty is ginger. Spock is gray.”

The plump one, Scotty, skids to a halt in front of me and tilts his head, studying me with wide, curious eyes. Spock, however, exercises more caution, circling around me at a safe distance, his gaze skeptical. I crouch and offer an extensor tentatively, unsure of the protocol for greeting feline domestic colleagues. Scotty approaches first, sniffing my fingers before delivering a swift headbutt. His purr vibrates through the air, a soothing sound.

I rise slowly, not wanting to startle Scotty. “He appears to approve of me.”

“You’ve made a friend,” she agrees.

Spock seems less convinced. He inches closer, then leaps onto the cat furniture with impressive agility. From his elevated perch, he observes me with a quirk of his whiskers. Those translucent eyes dare me to take a step closer. He definitely isn’t interested in deepening our acquaintance at this juncture.

“We’re lucky Spock isn’t hissing and hiding. He’s never thrilled when I go away, even if Nancy checks on them multiple times a day.”

I point at Scotty, who’s weaving around my lower limbs, rubbing himself against me. “Is this normal behavior?”

“Absolutely. He’s claiming you, by the way. You belong to Scotty now, no point in trying to resist.”