CHAPTER 24

 

TARA

 

When the alarms stop, I take it to mean the grouch got wherever he needed to be.

It’s quiet enough that I can hear the soft whir of the germophobe’s suit when he approaches.  This guy.  What is his deal?  I’ve seen him obsess over anything involving my fingerprints and a surface.  He is a bona fide neat freak.

I’m guessing he doesn’t have any kids.

He’s kept such a distance from me that I’m surprised when he gets closer than normal.  And at first, I think, okay, maybe he needs to get past me.

But no.  He doesn’t pass me and keep on his way down this corridor.  No, he’s definitely, specifically seeking ME out.  And when he checks both directions, his manner cautious before he returns his attention to me, I get super, super nervous.

And I see that he’s wearing rubber gloves over his suit gloves.  I try to smile to show him I’m friendly.  “You look a little ridiculous.”

He squirts me in the face.

“Hey!”  I squeal.  “What the—”

He squirts me again.

He’s got a stupid little spray bottle in his hand!  I’m opening my mouth to holler bloody murder—the big alien can pulp this guy—

When the scent registers.  Huh.  This stuff smells clean.

And… feels… sort of weird clean-tingly.

It makes me feel clean and… I sniff myself.  It is making me smell antiseptically fresh!  I’ll take it: no shower and a little hard-work-mopping have taken their toll on me.

The alien is soaking me in rapid squirts now, darting quick looks over his shoulder like he’s got to make sure he’s not caught.

I could be wrong, but I’m getting the feeling that not everyone in the household (shiphold?) agrees on the proper care and raising of the pet human.  I’m guessing this guy’s vote to give me a bath was vetoed, and he’s taking matters into his own… gloves.

I mean, where I’m from, some people bathe their pets every day, while others think this is excessive.  Some animals can go their whole lives without getting a bath.

“Yikes.  Guess I’m glad I’m not one of those pets,” I say, and his outer glove squeaks as he draws back his fingers, pulling away from me a little.  Like, “How unsettling. It’s making those noises again.”

I ignore his squeamishness and stay still.

This does explain why I couldn’t find a shower in the bathroom though.  Aliens on spaceships wash via spray bottle.  I guess… I guess it makes sense.  Dry shampoo is a thing on Earth.  I should have paid more attention to the ways astronauts live day to day.

Then again, if I’d known to pay attention and prepare…  I put on the brakes and shake off this particularly painful train of thought.

At this, the alien pulls back, hesitating.  I motion for him to go on.  “Please.  Continue.”

He looks even more surprised.  But pleased too.  He brings up his other hand, and in it, is a soft looking towel.  He performs the world’s most impersonal, brusquely applied toweling, and he continues to administer the spray as he goes, and when the first towel is damp enough it’ll need to be wrung out, he brings out another towel.

By this time, I’m lifting up my hair so that he can make sure to get my scalp fully treated, and the back of my neck, and I’m giddy and trying not to laugh.  A BATH!! I’M GETTING A BATH!  I’ve been reduced to becoming excited over an alien sanitizing me on the sly.

This is just sad.

But I’m too desperate to get in a funk over it.  I would however like some time alone with his spacesoap so that I can wash up a little more privately all over, but I’m not sure how to tell him this and I don’t want him to misunderstand any gestures I’d need to make in order to try to relay this request, so I take what I can get and I even help work the foamy lather into my scalp before he towels my head with a determined efficiency.

When he deems me finished, he steps back and carefully fits a stopper over the end of it.  Work done, he eyes me critically.  I’m finger combing my hair but I pause to give him a grateful smile.  “THANK you.  Seriously.  I was growing things, I’m pretty sure.”

He sniffs, his expression still mildly distasteful—seeming to agree with me even if he can’t understand my words.

Then he gives me a small smile.

Small, but this right here feels like a pretty big deal.