Terrestrial Alien ✔

Chapter 39: A Backyard Galaxy

Seth

   By the time I work up the courage to seek out Joshua again, I find him in the backyard.

   This is after I put away all the food I bought at the grocery store, and I'm sad he isn't here to help me, but I sort of knew this would happen as soon as I found the phone lying there on the pavement. At least he didn't yell at me again.

   I didn't really want to give it to him; I wanted to just never tell him I knew where it was. But I knew I couldn't do that, and somewhere along the line, I guess I've decided I can't keep secrets from him. It's too hard, and nobody enjoys it. I'm still working on it, but I'm getting there.

   So I went to find the phone.

   I don't know if I'm glad it's broken or not, but it is what it is, and Joshua is still upset about it. Which I can't blame him for; it's the last connection he had to, well, what feels like a whole different world now.

   By the time I go outside to find him, the day has considerably cooled off, and it's beginning to come to a close. The color of the sky is now a lightening blue, as the clouds begin to glow a soft pink against this background.

   It's not entirely unpleasant, the smell of the night beginning to close in.

   The backyard is a jungle of a place. It's overgrown, yellow grass as high as my knees, weeds everywhere, and a garden box that I really, really ought to tend to. I don't think occasionally grabbing anything that looks edible really counts.

   There's a small portion of rough tiled stone, a patio just outside the sliding glass door leading out of the house, and this is where I find Joshua, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, his phone laid out beside him.

   I don't know what to say to him, at first, so I say nothing. Sitting down next to him, I look out where he's looking at the grass forest in front of us.

   A bout of silence settles between us. Eventually I think we just aren't going to talk at all, but then he says, "I went in your office."

  Oh.

   My mind shoots to everything I have crammed in that room, everything he possibly could have found or learned, and it's a lot. It's enough that I can't even begin to pinpoint what might have upset him most.

   I fidget nervously with a dandelion growing through the cracks in the stone tiles.

   "What did you think?" I ask quietly, unable to draw my gaze up from this misfit flower.

   Joshua tilts his head where he's resting it on his knees, seeming to contemplate his answer. It's as though he doesn't know what to comment on first, and it's exactly as I feared. He hates all of it, doesn't he?

   I struggle to keep my chin from wobbling with the fear and anxiety that overwhelm me in Joshua's pensive moment of thought.

  Finally, he decides on what he wants to say. He asks, "¿Tu hablas español?"

   It's not at all what I was expecting. I need to a moment to comprehend that he actually isn't mad, and once I have that, relief and hope surges through me.

   "Sí." I rush to answer, picking the dandelion and sitting up straighter. In the same language, I continue eagerly, "I thought maybe we could speak in Spanish with each other, if I knew. And it was fun to learn. I also know French. Do you know French?"

  I hold the poofy yellow weed as I speak, and then I take a beat to consider what to do with it. Holding it out towards Joshua, I offer it like a gift, and murmur, "Para ti."