​

Flyaway Forever

(Chapter One)

​

​

        I first met the alien on my eighteenth birthday.

        If only I’d understood how lucky I was, then.

        When you think of aliens, you might think of thin-limbed, green-skinned creatures.

        Perhaps you’d think of black, slimy, dripping monstrosities that would rip your organs out. But

my alien wasn’t anything like that. He looked like a person. A head, two arms, two legs—all

attached to a body to create a full human.

       The day I met him, I had been walking home from school, same as always. In front of me

was the mundane sidewalk that went on forever, other students nothing more than faceless blobs

in my periphery. The biting icy winds of mid-January didn’t bother me nearly as much as the

boredom did. Walking home from school was a boring end to a boring day, headed to a lifeless

home to sleep and awaken, only for the cycle to repeat itself once more. I was glad this was my

last year of high school, but I had no idea what I’d do after that.

        But then there he was, right in front of me. My schoolmates were blurry, irrelevant blobs

I had no desire to see, but the image I saw of the alien was clear—the sharp outline of what

looked like a person, glowing like the moon. He was someone I knew was important, someone

who actually wanted to speak to me rather than simply passing me by with nothing more than a

glance. To tell you the truth, he looked a bit like me—only he was much older, and he was a

man. His hair was auburn, the same as mine, and he wore a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. He

looked to be in his forties.

        Of course, I now know that those from his planet didn’t have an age or gender—these

bodies were nothing but approximations. His body only took a form that looked familiar to me so

that he could communicate more easily.

      He was frozen there on the sidewalk. I walked towards him, but he didn’t move out of the

way as I’d expected. Disoriented by his sharpness, I walked towards him, stumbling on the soggy

snow, stopping before I crashed face-first into him.

​       “Hello, Mary,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

​

       He walked me home and told me of his world. The walk took about an hour, so he had

plenty of time—and plenty to say. He was from a distant galaxy, a planet that was falling apart.

His people were slowly dying out due to a lack of resources. But these claimed failures confused

me, because he seemed to possess an omnipotence greater than anything I could imagine. Our

Earth was utterly insignificant compared to their planet, just another of the uncountable amount

of unimportant life-bearing rocks. At least, if you wanted to believe what he said. I kept on

walking, entranced by his presence, hoping we would never reach my home.

        I couldn’t say much. All I did was walk alongside him awestruck as he broke apart my

understanding of reality.

​​

​

        I’m not very creative, so I never gave my alien a name. Since he was the only alien I

knew, and likely the only alien I’d ever know, I decided to simply call him Alien.

        Alien comfortably moved into my bedroom—without Mom knowing, of course. He

didn’t need to eat or sleep, and I didn’t have to do anything to take care of him, so he wasn’t like

a pet—more like a partner. I’d never had anyone to hear my dreaming, but he was there, and he3

wanted to know. He wanted to hear everything about me. He didn’t reply much, but he would

listen, and that was all I needed.

        After eighteen years, I had finally made my first true friend.

        Alien spent most of the day planning something. He never told me what it was, but he

was hard at work. He sat at my desk deep into the night, scrawling his alien writing all over my

notebooks. Shapes I never knew existed covered the pages, their angles sticking out as if they

popped out of the page, overlapping each other . All he would tell me is that it was important.

       He constantly reminded me of my insignificance. “You shouldn’t get too confident just

because you know me,” he’d say. “You have no special purpose. That’s the way humans are. You

must simply exist. Live, and then die. That’s all there is to it.”

       I completely disagreed with him. It made no sense. If I wasn’t important, then why was I

the one he had shown himself to? I wasn’t going to “live, and then die.” I was going to thrive. I

didn’t think someone as special as me would be capable of dying, anyway. That was the thing

Alien didn’t get about me. The things he told me only reinforced my belief that I was important,

that I was eternal. No matter how much he told me otherwise, I never once doubted myself.

       In that way, he was like the opposite of Mom.

       One day, I gathered my courage and decided to ask him. “Why me, then? If I’m so

unimportant, why am I the one you chose?”

       “It was random,” he said. “For us, helping people throughout the universe is…how do I

put this? A source of energy, I suppose. More than anything, my planet needs denizens who have

a handle on the emotions associated with positive deeds. On understanding what the far more

archaic, meaningless pieces of life such as yourself are doing, how you are thinking. Those are4

the things we’ve left behind. So, I’m helping you so that I can experience that knowledge, and

hopefully be someone who can, unlike most of my kin, feel some small amount of emotion.”

       For the first time, I began to feel sorry for Alien. His life felt so pointless. He had far too

much. He had taken in infinity, and as a result, he was nothing. I bet he felt jealous of me, even

though he didn’t say it.

       “Helping people? What do you mean by that?” I asked. “Are you helping me just by

being my friend?”

      “I’m not your friend,” he said. “But I will destroy anything that hurts you.”

​​

​

       It was now two years after first meeting Alien, and I found myself in a cramped New

Jersey apartment, rooming with a college girl who clearly would have taken anyone to split the

place with. And somehow, that even included me! I wouldn’t be able to tell you her name, and

she wasn’t particularly interested in educating me as to what it was—but I didn’t care to learn it

anyway. She spent as much time outside our place as possible—understandably so.

       The apartment was a disaster. A shag carpet lined the floor, looking like it had been

vomited on countless times. The living room sofa had been mauled by what seemed to be an

extremely hungry racoon, and hadn’t been used a single time in the month I’d been there.

       Once I walked into my bedroom, however, it was pristine. A shining white bed, sparkling

in the sunlight that passed through the blinds. A blank floor, empty and devoid of anything. That

was, of course, other than the extraterrestrial sitting at my desk in the corner of the room. He

seemed to always be there—muttering, humming, swaying, or whatever else. His plans had been

put on hold, or so he told me, but he was still always present—luminous and stern, pulsing like a

cartoon star. He complimented the wasteland of a bedroom perfectly. I rarely talked to him,5

nowadays, but he was still part of my life. I couldn’t just get rid of him. I was glad that he still

cared about me enough to live in my bedroom, even after having long since left my childhood

home.

        The days went by, but I didn’t have much to do. I made sure I got a place close to the

train station, and I could head north fairly easily. Mom never let me learn to drive, which might

have been considered a death sentence here in the US. But ever since I moved to New Jersey,

public transport could get me around some places, and people here didn’t typically ask questions.

I liked to be left alone.

        Today I was heading out to meet Cinder, an old friend of mine. Before last month, the

two of us hadn’t talked for about six years—we’d simply drifted apart after a while, and living

with Mom made it hard for me to reach out—but since I was on my own, I had the brilliant idea

to try and incite a reunion. Although, to be honest, it was more of a ‘first meeting’ than a

reunion, considering we’d never met in-person before—we only knew each other online when

we were kids. And, okay, she was more of an acquaintance than a friend. I bet she’d have

considered me her friend, but to me, she was just someone who I could spend time with.

       It might have been dumb to spend my savings on train tickets, but I did at least have some

money from Mom’s inheritance. Tickets were easy to buy. Just open up an app and click a few

buttons. It was so convenient, such a marvel of the modern world. And even someone like me

was able to figure it out.

        As I was about to leave for the train station, I noticed that my roommate was in the

kitchen, so I made sure to enact my ritual—waving to her as I waltzed out the door.

        She never once waved back.

        The train took me to Manhattan, and after a brief transfer I was bound for a small village

in the Catskill mountains—the kind that still had log houses. I enjoyed hikes, nature trails, the

wilderness. The scent of morning air, the cool autumn wind, the imposing pine trees which stood

strong in spite of life’s changes. Leaves crunching under my feet, a sound that only I could hear.

The world had forgotten about places like this, lost in the misery of trying to just make it through

the day. But I would remember, and I would be there.

        The conductor announced my stop, and I stepped onto the platform to be greeted by a

now-familiar face.

        “Mary! You’re late again!” Cinder looked genuinely agitated.

        I took in the late autumn breeze, looked around at the rounded mountains—white and

green mixing together as if the heavens themselves were painting a picture on their surface. The

village was a popular skiing destination.

        “Don’t blame me…” I put my hands on my hips. “It’s the train’s fault for arriving late.”

        Cinder sighed.

        She had sparkling eyes, jet-black hair, and dressed like she was always trying to hide

herself. Big fluffy coats. Long, nondescript pants. Tracing her body up to her face, I finally

noticed that she had a red mark on her cheek.

        “Did Jack hit you again? Seriously?”

        Cinder said nothing.

        “He could at least try to make it a little less obvious…” I said.

        Cinder furrowed her eyebrows, avoiding eye contact. Did my words upset her?

        “I’m just trying to be sympathetic,” I added. “I don’t want people thinking you’re weird.”7

        Jack was Cinder’s boyfriend, and he clearly believed he had some unspoken power over

her. I’d expect that living in a rural mountain village also contributed to outward marks of hurt

not mattering as much, since there were so few people around to see them. I doubted Cinder had

any real friends either. Besides me, of course.

         “Look,” I said, noticing Cinder still blankly staring towards the horizon behind my face. “My mom used to be really careful when hitting me. Like, she’d only hit me on the leg or

chest—anywhere people couldn’t easily see that it had happened. I always appreciated her for

that. All I’m saying is that, if he’s going to punch you, he should at least give you that courtesy.”

         “Mary.” Her eyes finally focused on me. “I don’t want him to hit me at all.”

        It was a straightforward viewpoint, and it didn’t make much sense to me, but I had to

remember that unlike me, Cinder had never encountered an alien. She wasn’t blessed. She had

nobody to save her, and thus she was trapped. I struggled to empathize with people like that.

       I didn’t like Jack very much. I didn’t think Cinder liked him either, but since he was her

boyfriend, I guess she was forced to stay with him. It was part of their contract—the agreement

they signed in blood. Or something like that. I wouldn’t know.

​

​

        Cinder drove us through the winding dirt roads, and I kept the window of the passenger

seat open. It was below freezing outside, but I wanted to feel the cold battering my face. Cinder

never complained about it, so I had no reason to stop. I’d like to imagine she preferred the frosty

grip of the wind as much as I did.

       She coughed a few times. The car swerved, crossing the center lines of the road.

        “Are you okay?” Was that my fault?

        “Yeah.” She forcefully gripped the steering wheel.8

        “You used to tell me that you got sick a lot.”

        “We were fourteen, Mary. It was the internet. I said a lot of things that probably weren’t

true.”

       She must have been pretending for my sake. How sweet of her!

       Either way, we were already pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot—so it didn’t seem

worth worrying about. Cinder slammed the breaks after sliding into a parking spot, sending both

of us flying forward into the resistance of our seat belts locking up.

       I sighed. Cinder seemed on edge, so I figured she could use some positive affirmations as

a reward for getting us here safely.

       “That was so fun!” I said.

       She turned her head towards me disapprovingly, saying nothing.

       “Ooh, it’s an Italian restaurant. That’s like, fancy, right?” I whistled as we walked in. It

was alright if Cinder didn’t feel up to talking much. I was just happy that we could spend time

together!

​

​

       One day, almost a year after meeting Alien, I heard strange voices coming from Mom’s

bedroom well past midnight. Filled with concern, I tiptoed to her door and pushed it open, the

creak sending pins throughout my body. Alien was there, as I’d expected. He was holding a

knife, looking down at her sleeping form. Mom looked so peaceful. Snoring, like she was

completely satisfied with the state of everything, knowing that nothing could possibly disturb

her.

      Alien looked hungry for flesh. Did he eat flesh? Did he want to eat Mom’s flesh? I didn’t

know.

       Don’t, I wanted to say—but I couldn’t risk waking up Mom.

       Did I control him? Could I stop him if I wanted to?

       I wasn’t sure.

       Wait, wait, wait.

       Alien was all-powerful, wasn’t he? Why would he need a knife? Couldn’t he just, like,

curse her with his alien magic?

       But to my relief, he stepped back. He put the knife down. He walked to the door, walked

past me, and walked into our bedroom, not saying a word.

        I stopped worrying about it. Even if he was wrong about some things, he knew what he

was doing.

​

​

       Two weeks later, on my nineteenth birthday, exactly one year after I’d first met Alien, the

house burned down, with Mom left inside. She was gone.

       It might have been the first birthday present I’d ever received.

​

       I never asked him if he killed her. I already knew the answer.

​

       Dealing with Mom’s death was easy. My grandparents were the only other family I had,

and they were both basically dead already too. The house fire was a tragic accident, and it was a

miracle that I, the single daughter of this single mother, was able to escape with my life. But fire

can’t burn down numbers in a checking account, and my grandparents had no qualms with letting

me have all of Mom’s money. See, my grades in high school were horrible—I must be pretty

stupid—so I doubted I could really get into college. Not that I’d have wanted to anyway! I10

carved out a place for myself all the same. And now that I was finally free, I would find my

people, and I would be able to live.

       I didn’t know if I was scared. I didn’t feel scared, really. I didn’t ask for this, and I didn’t

expect it either. But I wasn’t angry at Alien. The changes in my life, Mom being gone—it was all

simply a new set of challenges for me to face and succeed in.

​

​

      “Ready for the check, ladies?” The waiter held his hands up in a half-shrug, half-wave.

      I looked at Cinder. I didn’t get what was being asked of us.

      “Yes.” Cinder turned from the waiter towards me. “Separate checks, right?”

      I hadn’t ever been to a restaurant before. I mean, I had nobody to go with—I couldn’t

exactly go with Alien, after all. What were ‘separate checks’? Did that mean we would both have

to pay separately?

      As I considered this conundrum, I felt my mind begin to lose its grip on its surroundings.

What do I say to Cinder? Confusion and embarrassment overwhelming me, I almost felt as if I

had stopped being myself.

      I nodded blankly.

      The waiter brought over a mysterious leather artifact and dropped it on the table. It

looked similar to how I imagined things on Alien’s planet would appear. Shining in the lights of

the rusted chandelier—mesmerizing. But Alien never told me about anything like this. What was

it? It was folded, and like an oyster’s pearl, I knew a precious secret lay inside. Was this waiter

an emissary from another dimension? Cinder reached to open it up.11

      No! Stop! You can’t do that! It could be dangerous! It could unleash an unfathomable

darkness! It could swallow you up, digest you, leaving nothing behind but the brittle bones

hidden behind that fluffy black jacket!

     “Wait!”

       A slot was inside. Cinder skillfully placed a credit card in it.

      No, no. It was just some sort of carrying case for money. I felt embarrassed. Get a grip.

It’s not that difficult. This is a normal thing. I’m just stupid.

      “Huh? What is it?”

       I gripped my forehead. How did I explain this? Did I even need to? She probably knew

immediately how stupid and delusional I was. How much I hadn’t been able to change from the

child she knew. How helpless I was.

     I took some deep breaths, like Mom always told me to do. The best way to avoid showing

weakness is to say nothing. Right?

      God, what am I doing? I know what that is, right? I should know what that is… I should

know how these things work.

      I’d paid for things before. Even if I hadn’t heard the term before, I should have been able

to figure out the implication. All I needed was some basic critical thinking. Was I faking my

panic? Was it all a lie? Would Mom have gotten mad at me for exaggerating? For pretending not

to know something I should know? I didn’t know if I was lying or not. All I knew was that I had

to do better.

       Everything should have been okay. I tried thinking positively to try and keep myself

calm. I was here with a friend, and that was good, right? I knew what I was doing. I was an adult.

It shouldn’t have been difficult. It was nothing more than a small misunderstanding. I repeated12

these statements as much as I could, until my mind felt dizzy with the weight of what I knew I

should have understood.

​

​

        As we left the restaurant, I felt I had fully recovered from my brief moment of

embarrassment. I knew it wasn’t a big deal, and I’d have plenty of chances to prove myself to

     Cinder even if I failed at this.

     We walked through the gravel parking lot, rocks rolling under our shoes as we stepped on

them. I stopped Cinder and placed a hand on her shoulder.

      “Let’s go hiking!”

      “Mary, it’s already sunset. It’s so cold. Do you really want to go hiking in the dark? In

November?”

       “Yes…?” What a silly thing to ask. Why would I have suggested it if I didn’t want to do

it? I mean, I have excellent night vision. And I was sure Cinder wouldn’t want to return to her

boyfriend, either way—so I was doing her a favor.

      “I really should be getting home…”

      Home.

      Despite everything that was surely wrong with her life, jealousy still flooded my body

when I thought about it. The natural world I yearned for was right here at her fingertips.

Subsuming her. The idyllic autumn leaves, the pine needles lining the ground, the twinkling of a

creek in the evening light, the scent of a perfect day. Lights in the window, warmth waiting

inside. She had someone, somewhere to return to, in a flawlessly picturesque place like this.

Even if he hit her, at least he was there.

        We used to dream about things like that, back then. What if us kids could take on the

world together? Where could we go? How many wonderful places must be out there? Together, it

must be so easy to find a home. You guys are my real family, she would always say. We could be

there for each other, since nobody else was. But she had grown up, moved on. Found herself a

real boyfriend—a real family.

       Thus, she was satisfied, and I was not.

       “Don’t you think that…spending time with your friend—that being me—is also a kind of

‘home,’ in a way?” I said.

       “What?”

       “I don’t know,” I said. “I’d expect you to want to spend more time with me, that’s all.

       You always used to be so idealistic. Did you lose that wonder, Cinder? Don’t you remember?”

        “Mary. We knew each other for less than a year, as teenagers on an anime roleplaying

forum. It’s not that serious. You don’t know me at all. You didn’t know me then, and you

definitely don’t know me now.”

       Huh?

       “Umm… What does that have to do with the question I asked?”

       “What question?”

       “Whether or not you want to go hiking,” I said.

        Cinder looked at the gray sky. I idly kicked a large rock—it went flying into the bushes.

        The wind battered my face. It was so cold.

        “Sure," she said. "I guess we can go."