an accident
I rub the tops of my feet back and forth on the soft textured blankets underneath me, stuck somewhere between incredibly rested and not wanting to leave the comfort of my bed.
Stretching my arms over my head, I flop onto my back and open my eyes.
Wait—this isn’t my bed! Yesterday’s misadventures flood my mind.
Kitaico sits cross-legged, his elbows propped on his knees, observing me like his own personal little museum exhibit.
“You can sleep longer if you want,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at me. “Or maybe you’re hungry?”
He scrambles to his feet and pulls back one of the woven curtains covering a storage nook in the wall. He produces several pieces of what looks like whole dried fish and offers me one.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take it from his hand. The fish’s eyes are dangling from long stalks. I recognize them as the creatures that swam around my bubble after being dropped into this planet’s ocean.
I’m momentarily sad, thinking of the glittering school of happy little fish. Everyone’s gotta eat, I suppose.
I wrinkle my nose as he snaps the head and tosses it into the pool at the cave’s opening. It disappears in a flash, the currents ripping it away. Knowing my luck, I’ll roll my ankle and fall ass over tits into the open ocean. I make a mental note to watch my footing around the hole.
Kitaico bites a hunk off the fish and chews.
“It’s good—try some,” he says with his mouth full. His sharp canines ripped the flesh easily.
I copy his head-snapping technique and throw it toward the water. I miss, and it bonks off the floor and onto Kitaico’s chest.
He chuckles, tossing it over his shoulder, and mimes for me to eat mine.
While I love the ocean, fish isn’t really my favorite. It doesn’t smell too off-putting, though. Not wanting to be rude to this strange man who saved me, I take a bite. Although I wouldn’t say I love the flavor, it’s not bad, either. It’s salty enough to make my mouth water.
It’s like fish jerky, and as I chew it, my stomach gurgles. I haven’t eaten since long before the Deenz ship unceremoniously dropped my security bubble into the ocean. The dried meat is no burger and fries, but it tastes light-years better than what I’ve been eating.
The Deenz, the cheap bastards that they are, feed us a gray mush. The flavor and texture combination is really awful. It’s like eating paste glue.
I barely realize I’ve scarfed down the whole fish before Kitaico snaps the head off another and hands it to me. My teeth, not as sharp as my alien friend’s, struggle slightly to bite off hunks.
“Do you like it?”
I nod but turn down a third fish when he offers it. Kitaico’s eyes light up with some weird sort of pride as I eat.
I’m curious if his people cook at all. The fish wouldn’t be half bad rehydrated in a soup.
“Thank you, Kitaico—I’m stuffed, really.” I put a hand up in refusal.
His eyes light up when I say his name, his skin rippling with red before settling down to its usual coloring of yellow with blue rings. I wonder if he has any control over his camouflaging skin, or if it feels like breathing, changing subconsciously.
“I am pleased you liked the dredlin.” He puffs out his chest.
“Dredlin,” I repeat. That’s what these little creatures are called?
“Your accent is good. I’m surprised.” Kitaico cocks his head. “Have you ever met another of my kind?”
“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. I’ve met lots of aliens, but nothing quite like him.
“That makes sense. I don’t think any Andjin has ever met one of your kind either. What is your species? Where are you from?”
“Human,” I say, placing my hand to my chest. “Earth.” I point upward.
“A human from Earth,” he confirms. “Do you have a family on Earth?”
“No, not anymore.” I think about my grandmother, who raised me, and my heart stings at the loss of her.
“I’m sorry…it is a great sadness to bear being alone.” His eyes grow distant.
“Do you have a family?” I gesture to him.
“Family? Yes, I have both my parents and two brothers who live in the capital. I haven’t seen them in many cycles, though—I miss them deeply. My brothers will be grown men when I next see them.” A sadness creeps into his voice. I want to ask why he can’t go to them, but I don’t have a way to convey that with gestures alone.
“Do you have a mate?” he asks, the words rushing out.
A mate? Like a boyfriend or a husband? Even on Earth, I was chronically single.
“No.”
“You’re unmated and alone…that is incredibly dangerous. You are lucky to have found me and not an exiled male…who knows what would have happened to you!”
He gets flustered and doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They slide back over his head tentacles, and he fiddles with one in particular near his ear.
