Perhaps when I wake, my body will have regenerated enough to make my escape. And yet, even as the thought plants itself in my mind, it brings with it a nagging sense of unease, a strange reluctance to abandon the strangely comforting presence of a being I understand so little.
Despite my better judgment, I let my muscles fall lax.
Closing my eyes, I let my body succumb to the needed rest. With the alien sensation of the wood floor beneath me and the rhythmic sound of her breathing as my lullaby, somehow, I drift into a fitful slumber.
When I next pry my eyes open, the world is coated in an impenetrable blanket of night. I forget, for one blissful moment, the extent of my injuries. Without thought, I try to sit up. Knife-edged pain ricochets through my body, pulling a deep, agonized groan from my lips.
The noise awakens the human female, shattering the silence cloaking the cabin. “Ravok?” Her voice is a gentle whisper in the dark, an ethereal sound that cuts through my pain.
Turning my gaze toward where her voice originates, I’m met with the sight of her silhouette sitting up. She’s a shadowy figure, painted mysteriously by the soft moonlight seeping into the room. A light flicks on, bathing Leelee in its warm luminescence. She is still partially curled up in the chair, with Mango in her lap. As I watch, she unfurls, setting aside the animal and getting up, staring at me with hazy, worried eyes.
“I’m fine. I just forgot about my injuries,” I say, but huff a frustrated breath when she stares at me with confusion wrinkling her brow. I had forgotten for a moment that my translator is inoperable.
Leelee scurries over to my side. She presses her soft palm to my forehead before looking over my healing injuries. She murmurs to herself, her eyes filled with wonder, and she takes in my body’s progress towards healing.
“Deez luk gud.”
Leelee sits back on her heels, eyes sparkling under the soft moonlight coming in from the viewing glass. She mimes eating again. “Ungry?”
I shake my head, a gesture I’m thankful she understands. Not hungry. The pain radiating from my injuries forms a knot in my stomach, pushing any hunger pangs to the sidelines.
Next, she asks about “otter.” I shake my head again, realizing a more urgent need is making itself known. My bladder is uncomfortably full.
Not sure how else to communicate my need, I point toward my cloth-covered groin. A grimace forms on my face as I make the universal expression for ‘pain.’
A strange look crosses Leelee’s face, painting her delicate features with confusion. But then, understanding blooms, bright and sudden, as her cheeks turn pink.
Leelee holds up her finger, a clear sign of ‘wait a moment’ that I had deciphered from our previous interactions. She ducks into her cooking area. I lose sight of her but can hear clattering as she rummages through cabinets and drawers.
After a moment she approaches me, carrying a clear bottle in her delicate hands. I thought I made her understand that I’m not thirsty, but she must’ve misunderstood. Or perhaps this is another example of human customs I should brace myself to understand? Or is it a peculiar object unique to her alone? My curiosity is piqued. I don’t like lying prone on the floor – it feels too vulnerable. I grunt as I try to sit up. Leelee rushes to my side, saying a flurry of words that make little sense, but I get the impression that she’s vexed that I tried to sit up on my own. I’m annoyed that I need the assistance, so I curl my lip in a snarl that Leelee ignores.
Leelee sets the bottle on the table and helps me sit up again, stuffing cushions under my back.
Once I’m comfortable, she extends the bottle towards me, a look of proud triumph brightening her features. It’s empty. I stare at the container in her hand, struggling to comprehend what she wants.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice carrying an undertone of discomfort and confusion. My eyebrows are raised, and I am turning the bottle over in my hands, examining it from every possible angle, yet unable to deduce its purpose.
With a swift movement, Leelee indicates the bottle, then points at my groin. A horrified understanding dawns on me. My skin flushes a dark gray as my horrified eyes meet with hers. She wants me to… urinate into this container? The thought is so primitive and horrifying that I can’t believe it at first.
“Are you serious?” I stutter as I stare at her. The bottle feels grotesque in my hands, my fingers itching to discard it.
Leelee, to my horror, nods earnestly, evidently missing or ignoring the outright shock and disgust creeping onto my face. I’ve faced a crashing spaceship, a hostile planet, and the chilling isolation of captivity, being tortured, but this… this is unacceptable.
I growl at Leelee. “I will piss on your floor before I urinate into this,” I announce flatly, handing back the bottle none too gently.
I expect the female to rear back and cower in the face of my ire. To my complete shock, Leelee laughs – a joyful, unrestrained sound. She wraps her arms around her middle and curls over her arms, laughing so hard that she starts to gasp. Her mirth is so great that I find myself a little amused despite myself.
Once Leelee finally gets her mirth under control – she laughed so hard that she’s wiping away tears – she murmurs some words and points down a hall. “Bafrum es deere.”
CHAPTER 22
Lily
My mind goes into overdrive, screaming at me that this is a terrible idea. Ravok is badly injured, and here I am considering letting him use the toilet. He’s not my first patient to balk at the sight of a bedpan. Images of potential disasters dance in my mind – a slippery fall or a reopened wound. This is madness. Yet a fleeting glance at Ravok… there’s something about his stubborn, icy gaze that compels me to help, to aid him in maintaining his dignity.
“This is a terrible idea,” I warn him. “Yes, you are healing at an insane rate, but you are very far from one hundred percent. What if we make it worse? Why must you be stubborn and not pee in the bottle?” Based on the defiant look on Ravok’s face when I gesture at the bottle, even if he could understand my words, it would fall on deaf ears.
Despite the screaming objections inside my head, I find myself pointing toward the bathroom. I mime with exaggerated gestures my intent to help him off the floor and down the hallway. “This,” I say, pointing at him – then my arms go around his tall form, pretending to lift him, “and that,” pointing down the hall that leads to the bathroom like it’s our shared goal.
Ravok’s bright glowy eyes fasten onto mine, and their intensity makes my heart flutter. His gaze flickers towards the bathroom and then back to me. I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
Unexpectedly, Ravok dips his chin, a single, sharp nod that speaks volumes. He trusts me to help. How the hell am I going to get his enormous ass off the ground without breaking my own back?
My heart races a little faster as I roll up my sleeves. “Please don’t let me regret this,” I mutter. I brace myself for what could possibly be one of the craziest things I’ve ever done, I look up at the alien once more.
“All right, we can do this. We’re gonna need to move slowly, okay?” I murmur, bracing myself against the hardwood floor. I move closer to him, squatting until I’m almost sitting on his lap. I wrap one arm around his bulky frame, feeling the ridges and grooves of his alien physique, so uniquely different yet familiar.
“Easy, buddy,” I whisper, securing my grip around his waist. He wraps his splinted arm around my shoulder and the other he presses against the floor. I count to three and with a surge of adrenaline, I try to lift him, each fiber of my being straining against the taxing effort. It’s like trying to lift a truck.
I grit my teeth, stifling a gasp as my thighs and back protest. But I refuse to give up. I lean back, pulling Ravok with the concentrated force of all my straining muscles.
With sharp grunts of exertion escaping from his gritted teeth, Ravok slowly, painstakingly starts getting upright. I’m panting now, sweat trickling down the small of my back and my vision blurring at the edges, but I hardly notice. The luminous-eyed alien getting to his feet, his muscles flexing under the artificial light, overshadows everything else.
“Just a little more, Ravok,” I grunt at him, readjusting my grip around his waist. Finally, with one last excruciating pull, I hoist him up, the sheer force of it having us stumble against each other. His face contorts with effort and pain, but he doesn’t seem like he’s re-injured himself.
