14
What’s in a Name?
Half an hour has passed since Ray left the party and I’m sitting here all on my own, dissolving in a sea of despair. The situation seems hopeless and my heart cramps painfully at the thought of losing him. I can’t see a way out of this. I’m already in too deep. Oh God, what am I going to do?
Ollie comes looking for me. I tell her that Ray had to leave because he wasn’t feeling well. She says she’ll understand if I’m not in the mood for partying anymore and I jump at the chance to get out of there.
Ray must have heard me put the key in the door. As soon as I open it, he grabs me, slamming me against the wall. He presses his mouth to mine, kissing me so hard I taste blood. When he releases me, we’re both breathless with overheated emotion.
“I want you so bad, Blake,” he croaks. “Why do you keep tormenting me with what-ifs?”
I stroke his cheek. “I’m in love with you and all you can talk about is leaving me. I don’t even know your real name. I know it isn’t Ray. It doesn’t even sound alien.”
“Don’t you like the name Ray?” he asks, gazing at me with a wounded expression.
“Yes, but why do you hide your true identity from me?”
He bows his head. “I’m not fond of my real name.”
“Why not?”
“Because of what it symbolises to me.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighs and looks up at me. “It’s Astatine. My real name is Astatine.”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s a nice alien-sounding name.”
“It’s not alien at all. I’m named after the rarest element on Earth.”
I huff. “Well, you’re certainly that. There can’t possibly be a rarer element on Earth than you at this precise moment.”
“There’s a very good reason it’s the rarest element. It’s extremely short-lived. It gets instantly vaporised by the heat of its own radioactivity.”
I shrug. “At least it goes out in a blaze of glory.”
He gawks at me. “There’s nothing glorious about being short-lived. I don’t want to be named after that stupid element. It feels like an omen.”
“It’s just a name,” I try to reassure him. “How can you be short-lived when you’re already two million years old?”
“That’s not very old for a Caretaker,” he argues. “I will never see old age. My name is the noose around my neck that will one day squeeze the breath out of me.”
I wonder why he’s being so dramatic about a name. After all, he’s had it his whole life. “Nothing’s happened to you yet, has it? It’s a nice name.”
“Please just call me Ray,” he pleads.
I smile gently. “Sure, if that’s what you prefer. Can I ask you something?”
He nods.
“You said something about being in a transient state and how that drains you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a shape-shifter?”
He scowls as he thinks about it. “I suppose you could say that, except it makes it sound as easy as changing clothes. It isn’t. This is actually the first time I’ve ever done it and it feels like I’m battling every cell in my body to prevent myself reverting back to my natural state. I need to be one thing or the other. It’s like my body wants me to make up my mind.”
“One thing or the other? You mean, totally human or totally alien?”
“Yes. In this transient state, I’m neither one thing nor the other. I have the appearance and functionality of a human being, but inside I’m in turmoil. I’m bombarded with human emotions that totally conflict with my mission. I know what I must do and yet my conscience is being whipsawed by my sense of duty versus my desire to be true to myself.”
“So why don’t you make the switch and become totally human?”
He shakes his head violently. “I can’t let go of who I am. I’d never get it back again. If the switch is total, it becomes irreversible.”
“Why would you want to reverse it when you could be with me? Don’t you want us to be together?”
He backs away from me.
“Don’t ask that of me, Blake. I couldn’t. Not even for you.”
“Why can’t you? I don’t understand. Tell me, Ray. Explain it to me.”
“Because I’ll die, Blake,” he yells, his voice choked with emotion.
I close the gap between us, grabbing him by the upper arms, so he can’t back away from me again. “Why will you die?”
“Because that’s what humans do,” he whimpers with tears in his eyes.
I scowl at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Humans die,” he says, a tear tumbling down his cheek. “You’ll probably have another eighty years at best and then you’ll die too, just like all the others that came before you.”
I gasp and release him. “Are you saying you could stay if you really wanted to, but you don’t consider eighty years with me to be worth your while?”
“Blake, my father is over twenty million years old and still going strong. That’s virtual immortality and you’re asking me to swap the rest of my life for a mere eighty years as a human? That’s crazy! Eighty years is nothing. It’s a blink of an eye. I’ve seen countless generations come and go. You humans are so short-lived it breaks my heart. Even Leonardo da Vinci. How could a spirit so strong be so easily snuffed out? I hate it when that happens. I hate that you humans are so…disappointingly mortal.”
“If you were human, you’d think differently. Eighty years is an eternity to us.”
“But don’t you see, I’d be fulfilling the prophecy. Astatine will be short-lived. I don’t want to be mortal. Death frightens me. The thought of death frightens me. I don’t want to die. And I definitely don’t want to watch you die. I just can’t.”