The friendly alien was a great actor, but the travesty was no one would ever know. In my opinion the people who are the best at what they do go undetected. It’s usually second in command who gets the face time. Actually that’s not true. The friendly alien had a lot of fans, but they were mostly a part of the group of people with Special Abilities.

“The hammock is sagging onto the ground. My tea has dirt in it. And I forgot to bring my notebook. I’m so happy we went camping.”
“You know I’ve been cooped up inside all week.”
“You’ve been cooped up at work, and you can still see the sky from in there.”
“Great.” Cracks an IPA. Drinks from it as though it could transport him to an even more remote location.
“You just keep me around as leverage. And sometimes I get the feeling you like me. But more than me you’re attached to your purpose or grand agenda here on earth.”
“Hm.” He doesn’t look at her.
“I hope you know we’ll be friends until the end of time.”
He smiles and his pupils snap. He knows it’s true. They have so much fun together. They’re capable and complicated and unique. The fact that he’s an alien is absolute.
“My mom says we’re all aliens at this point. I’m something different.”
“You are like a little fawn in a grove. The parents are near by and they protect you with their love. Even the worst predator stops for a moment when meeting you and they don’t know how to kill you. Did you ever read “In a Grove.”
She cries silently and nods.
“I know you’re used to me being around now, but I have to go away soon. I’ll come back and find you little fawn.”
She wipes away her tears and prepares herself. “You say or act like you’re going far away, but that’s later. I already know the script. You don’t go away for a while and you’re constantly drinking and showing up as different people in my life. I swear you rode by me the other day burping and calling me sweetheart, or maybe that was just some dude on Halloween. The point being you are all over the place, but you don’t seem to be straying as far from me as I expected. It gives me a supreme disadvantage that I can’t shape shift like that. The shape shifting I do requires a lot of time in the “powder room.” But on the other hand I don’t have to deal with true multiple identities and a fractured sense of self. Sorry, you’re right. I admit I read your thoughts sometimes too. You’re right, I am split. I’m Sophie and Catherine. I used to be a better person, but people don’t know that. And here I am jabbering on and on about myself. Hm, jabbering, sounds like something out of a Samuel French play. Anyway, who cares.”
“Are you Sophie or Catherine now?” He looks searchingly into her eyes, his pupils are black holes. 
“I’m obviously Catherine.”
“Let’s talk about you. How is your mom?”
“She’s fine.”
She nods, “Mine is good too.”
He looks like he’s saying something in his head but it’s not leaving his lips. 
She doesn’t pressure him.
“I’m thinking about making something today.”
She knows what this means, but she also knows she must do the same. She must make something very different than him to keep the scales balanced. The attention is on him.
“I have an idea.” His face looks wavering. 
“I’ll see you later. I have to go take care of some errands.”
He stretches his arm around her shoulders, he’s much taller than her, and he hugs her like a brother. He turns to face her and looks into her eyes in a way that passerby would stop and look.
“You better be ready later. I’m going to have my way with you.”


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