CHAPTER 41

 

TARA

 

Never let the sun go down on your anger.  I make a shrill sound of disgust, for the stupid things men do—and for the doubts that are creeping into my mind.  Remember: Tac is an alien.  Not a man. Just because his actions upset me doesn’t mean he didn’t have honorable motivations, good reasons.  A good cause, even.  Is there ever a good cause to walk out on someone, time and time again?  I wiggle deeper under my favorite blanket, the one that Brax tugged over me earlier.

Yeah, guys leave, but I’ve never liked it.  I shouldn’t have to like it.  Why is it so hard for men to just stand up and be reliable?  Decent?  Stand by their partners, do their best by them and their children—and for goodness’ sake by, ‘do their best’ I don’t mean perfection: just friggin’ TRY.

As I kick out, using my momentum to shift to my other side, I realize I’m angry about the male species lack of effort.

As a subject.  As past deeds.  As irresolvable hangups.

...Not necessarily about Tac specifically.

I pick up my head so that I can thunk it down on my pillow in both frustration as well as confusion.

Unfortunately, my pillow is not a pillow.

It’s an alien’s arm.

#WhyCan’tIHaveNormalPeopleProblems

I was handling normal-people problems: I was handling them like a boss.  Rent due?  Car falling apart?  Daycare costs going up?  Handling it, walking everywhere, and I cut corners like a… I don’t know.  Like a single mom, living on a single income, because MEN LEAVE!  You deal: just like my mom did.  Just like her mom did.  Gah, why do men walk out when crap gets hard?

My stupid conscious has to break out a contentious opinion like it enjoys giving me the equivalent of whiplash: Is this even what’s going on here?

I groan in frustration and try to think.  That first night on the ship, I begged Tac not to lock me up, but he did it and walked away.  Or, or hopped—I guess, but bottom line: he left me.  I was begging him not to go, and he freaking left me.  But what else was he supposed to do?  He obviously knew it was going to take me some time before I was willing to trust him and yeah, okay, my bad trying to run in the first place.  He even took a bullet—um, laser-shot—thanks to my foolish attempt to make a break for it.

Then tonight, I’d lost it over the whole I-meant-infant-child-baby and you-keep-thinking-I-want… dead tree limbs?  Show an alien ‘rock-a-baby’ and he assembles a beaver dam?  It was so frustrating.  It is so frustrating.  I’m trying so hard not to lose it, but this isn’t an issue that can just wait to resolve itself.  And his answer to that is to dump me on a chained, insane, basically ‘stranger’ of an alien when I was begging him to stay?  And he.  Walked.  Away.

...But.  My subconscious keeps at me.  His expression did not match his action.  His motivations here are a mystery.  He’s so alien!

As I heave another breath, I notice that I’m sounding less like ‘nice, human Tara’ and maybe a little like an infuriated—albeit majorly confused—dragon.

Because I was handling normal-people problems: but throw in a couple of aliens and now I don’t know why they do what they do, I don’t know what their doings mean, I don’t know what roof my kids are under, I don’t know if…

I quickly back away from exploring any further on the actual topic of my girls’ wellbeing.  For my own sanity, I hadn’t meant to go there.  I prematurely pat myself on the back when my mind picks up a safe, sane, gripe.  I don’t know what they’ve done with my damn car.

This, this I can vent about all day or night and I’ll be fine.  I almost had that POS paid off—that is… if they don’t repo it, and that interest was killer so depending on how long I’ve been gone…

My thoughts stutter and my throat closes.

I’ve been trying really hard not to count days.  I’ll go insane.

I try to tell myself I can’t make myself get home any faster.  That dwelling on it won’t get me home faster.

But I’m fooling myself.  I’m not thinking about it because I know I’ll break.  I’m so fucking scared.  So fucking scared.

If I don’t make it home, I’ll never see Mona and Meg again.  I’ll never tuck them in again.  I won’t be there for their life milestones.  They’ve been growing so fast—how many moments have I already missed?  How many more will I never get to see?  First-loves, proms, graduations—babies of their own?

I will break.  I have to be able to get back or I will lose it.

I feel Brax’s exhales like it’s soft clouds of steam from a cooling teapot.  I know it’s coming from his nose.  (This alien steams from his nose!)  He’s watching me.  Since he’s awake, and I can’t keep this all inside anymore, I try to figure my issues out out loud.  I ignore that my voice comes out squeaky and shaky, like my voice box is being squeezed right along with my heart.  “Brax, I have to be able to talk to you guys.  It is so, so, extremely important.  You don’t even know—and that’s the problem!”  I cover my face with my hands, desperately trying to think.

This alien that wouldn’t touch me unless it was with the help of a household (...spacehold?) cleaning product slowly begins to drag the curve of a claw along my wrist in a measured, reassuring movement.

I sigh and relax against his arm/my pillow.  Pillarm.  Armillow.  Armillow: that works.  I nod and decide to run with that.  “Okay, the communication issue aside—at least as ‘aside’ as I can make it for now, since it’s still all related—” I take another deep, shaky breath, and shake out my trembling fingers.  Brax draws back his claw, staring down at me like he’s not sure if I’m mid-seizure or if I’m just melting down some more.  Since he’s no longer afraid of my germs, I pat his chest.  He tenses all over.

...Then it’s like he realizes it feels good.  He leans into my hand a little—for him—which is a lot of weight on my hand.  I drop it and his body jolts a bit at the loss of contact.

I laugh a little to myself.  Aliens.

“Anyway—communication issues aside—I don’t understand Tac.  I don’t get why… he just doesn’t seem like he’d…”

Hurt me.

“It doesn’t seem like he’d have left me if he’d known what I needed.”  I groan, causing Brax to twitch.  “You know what?  Saying that out loud, I know he wouldn’t.  He may be an alien, but I know he’s a good…”  Man?  Male? “...guy.”  I sigh, and thunk my head against his arm once, twice, thr—

Brax swiftly inserts his free hand behind my head, cupping me so that I can’t bang it down anymore.

I convulse once in a silent, mini-laugh.

Then I shake my head at this crazy situation—and at him.  Actually, mostly at him.  I can’t laugh at my circumstances but this alien?  Him I can laugh at; he’s a nut. I sigh.  It’s a long, tired, baffled hum-dinger of a sigh.  I look up, and search his face.  “Hey.  Before I forget to say it: thanks for not being scared of my germies anymore.  You were honestly starting to give me a complex.”

In the low light of the room, I watch his eyes darken as his pupils expand from slits to rounds.  His irises have little flecks of lighter, tawny amongst the deep cherry-cognac.  I never noticed before.

Mesmerized, I whisper, “Pretty.”

Then he leans in, and covers my mouth with his.