Earth to Charlie

by Justin Olson

  A FACE AT THE EDGE OF THE BREAK

  • • • • •

  When I get home, I am truly exhausted. Between Grandma choking, and all the excitement with Geoffrey, and then the biking and swimming with Seth, I can barely keep from crashing onto the couch and sleeping there for the night.

  My dad is in front of the TV and tells me to come talk to him. I stand next to him. “What are you doing? Sit on the couch.” He’s mostly staring at the TV.

  I shuffle to the couch. He first tells me that he’s going fishing tomorrow but that he’ll be back tomorrow night. After some gunshots on TV, he says, “Heard about your grandma. They called.”

  My chest tightens. Is he talking about today or when I broke her out?

  “Maybe don’t bring puzzles to her anymore.”

  My chest relaxes.

  “And where’s Tickles?” he asks.

  “Oh. Geoffrey got to come home today.”

  “Glad for Geoffrey, but I was enjoying that dog.” My dad turns off the TV and stands up. The house is completely dark. “I’m off to bed. Come give me a hug.”

  I hug him and head to my room. As I sit at my desk, eyes barely open, I see an email from Meridian X on my laptop.

  Hi, Charlie,

  I’ll be traveling through Whitehall

  tomorrow. Wanted to know if you’d like to

  grab coffee? We could swap stories.

  Let me know. It’ll be around 2 p.m.

  Thanks,

  Meridian X

  **Owner/Operator, MontanaUFOSightings.

  com**

  ****Buy My Book! Montana UFO

  Sightings****

  I lean back in my chair and wonder why she wants to have coffee with me. But I’m all for it.

  I stand up and slog over to my window. I search the darkness for some kind of light. For some kind of sound. For some kind of something. I stand there for as long as I can. But I just can’t stay awake any longer, so I slouch to my bed.

  * * *

  My dad is gone by the time I wake up.

  BETTER WITHOUT

  • • • • •

  The only coffee shop open in Whitehall on a Sunday is called Sweet Honey Café, at the far end of main street. It looks like a cottage, and inside is an overwhelming amount of floral designs—from the table covers to the wallpaper to the fake flowers in the middle of the tables. A woman named Mary Jo owns and runs the place. She used to be a good friend of my grandma’s. Maybe she’s still a friend of my grandma’s, but I’m not sure how that works when the other person is unaware of the friendship.

  I walk into the empty café, and Mary Jo comes out from the back. “Charlie, oh my! It’s been quite a while. Good to see you. How’s Eloise doing? I need to get over and see her. I’ve been saying that for a while, but I need to just do it. Though, after working all day, it’s hard to close the café and not go home and crash.”

  I stand there, smiling, with my hands in my pockets. “She’s doing well,” I say.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” She flips the kitchen towel she’s holding over her shoulder. “What can I get you?”

  “I’m going to meet someone, so I’m just going to wait for now.” I suddenly regret having a meeting with another alien/UFO person in a place where I know the owner. Charlie Dickens, do you ever think? I don’t want people to start suspecting that I’m slipping . . . like my mom.

  I sit by the window and look out. My phone buzzes with a text from Seth. You’ll never guess what I saw!!! OMG!

  What!?! I reply.

  A light. A big bright blinding light last night around 2am.

  My heart jumps. Seriously!? I need more info!

  I’ll tell you later. In person?

  Okay. I’m meeting with the website lady shortly.

  The UFO website lady?

  That one.

  Really? That’s cool. What’s the meeting for?

  I hear gravel crunch, and I look up to see a green Subaru park in front of the café. The woman driving is in her midforties, with hair that is shooting out in all directions, kind of like Albert Einstein.

  She looks around the café once she enters, and there’s only me. I wave. She pulls down her sunglasses and glances at me. Then she puts them back on, smiles, and walks over.

  “Charlie? I wasn’t expecting a teenager.”

  I shrug. My hands are folded like I’m being interviewed or something. “Yeah, it’s just me.”

  She sits. “No, no, I think it’s great. Someone so young involved in such a complicated subject.”

  “You could say it kind of found me.”

  “I’d love to hear your story.” She looks around as Mary Jo comes over.

  “What can I get you two?”

  We order some coffees, and Mary Jo heads back to the counter.

  Meridian X, still wearing sunglasses, looks at me. I think.

  “So is your name really Meridian X?” My leg keeps bouncing, though I’m trying not to focus on it.

  “What do you think, Charlie?”

  I press my hand to my thigh. “No?”

  “I have my legal name and the name I prefer to go by, which is Meridian X.” She studies me a minute. “You don’t like your name, do you?”

  “Yeah, I like it.” How would she know whether I like my name or not?

  “Don’t lie to me. If you could pick your name, what would it be?”

  “How do you know I don’t like my name?” I think this is an odd conversation to be having with an (almost) complete stranger.

  “Well, when you wrote me back after I asked you whether you wanted your first or first and last name on the website, you said something to the effect of, ‘Please. Do not post my last name.’ ”

  “Maybe I just don’t want people to know I’m into watching aliens.”

  “Possible, yes. But most people who spot something want credit for it. So you’re saying you wouldn’t change your name?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not.” It’s a weird thing to ask, because I think of a name as something concrete, something that follows you throughout life and is a reminder of a person after death.

  “You are always free to change your name,” she says. Thankfully, she takes her sunglasses off and places them on the table. I didn’t like when I couldn’t see her eyes.

  I nod. I’m not sure why I’ve never thought about it before. I mean, why do I have to keep anything that anyone has given me? My name is wrought with baggage. And history. On the one hand, that’s good. On the other, it haunts me. Maybe I will change my name.

  Mary Jo brings over our drinks and places them delicately on her floral tabletop.

  Meridian X smiles. She takes a sip of her coffee.

  I’m not sure how much cream or sugar to put into my coffee, as I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve had coffee. So I dump half the cream into it, and then open five packs of sugar.

  I take a sip. It’s actually pretty good.

  Meridian X laughs. “You ever had coffee before?”

  I feel awkward and take another gulp of my coffee. “My friend Seth said he saw a light last night.”

  Meridian X jerks forward, and her eyes light up. “Was it like the light you saw?”

  “No idea. He just texted me about it.”

  “Well, get him down here!”

  “Really?” I eye her.

  “Yes!”

  I pull out my phone.

  * * *

  My leg is still bouncing, but for another reason. I’m on my third cup of coffee, and I feel good.

  Meridian X is sipping from her second cup and we’re discussing my encounter, which she already heard about through our emails, when she says, “Did you know that this coming week has historically been the most active week?”

  I shake my head. “What do you mean?”

  “In studying paranormal activity from history, this last week in July measures as the most active. The most UFO sightings, the most alien abductions, the most, well, everything
.”

  My heart pounds. “Really? Why? What is it about this week?”

  Meridian X looks at me, dead serious. “The aliens like warmer weather.”

  I’m contemplating whether there’s any validity to this, when she busts out laughing.

  “I’m kidding, Charlie. I have no idea. I just know that this week is the most active. So be on the lookout. Okay?”

  I will definitely be on the lookout. The door opens, and in walks Seth with his camera around his neck, and I get an idea. This will be the week of our summer adventure.

  HEADING FOR WATERLOO

  • • • • •

  “Okay, so I was just dinking around on the internet, right?” says Seth. Both Meridian X and I are rapt with attention. Her chin is resting on her fisted hand. “And all of a sudden, out of the blue, there’s this loud noise. It sounds like thunder. I take off my headphones, because I could hear it through them, and I sit there for a second, wondering what is happening. Then I see this bright flash, almost like someone took a picture of me. But it was larger than that. Like they took a picture of the whole town. So . . . I get up and look outside, but it was like nothing had happened at all. The town was still.”

  I’m sitting next to Seth, arms crossed, wondering why I didn’t hear or see anything myself, but I was sawing logs. Though, if it was as loud as Seth explained, then why didn’t I wake up? Could I have slept through the aliens coming to get me?

  Could this explain why I’m still here? I keep sleeping through their arrivals?

  Meridian X’s eyes look like a child’s on Christmas morning, and I find myself wondering why she is so fascinated with UFOs and alien encounters. Especially as a middle-aged adult, where it’s probably more looked down upon than if you’re a fourteen-year-old high school student.

  “Why didn’t you call me immediately?” I ask Seth.

  “Because you were sleeping. And you put your phone on silent when you go to bed.”

  This is true. Shit.

  “Well, this is just absolutely fascinating,” says Meridian X. “Could it be the same UFO?” She stares at both of us. “Maybe it’s here for one of you?” Her eyes are genuine, and I can’t help but feel my nerves tingling all over my body. My leg bounces a thousand miles a minute.

  Meridian X says, “Your story reminded me of the same kind of light I encountered when I was abducted.”

  “Abducted?” asks Seth. “Is that . . . Wait. Did they probe you?”

  Meridian X laughs. “Want to hear the story?”

  We both nod vigorously.

  “I was abducted in a church. In a church basement, to be precise. It happened when I was a little girl, no older than ten. It was Sunday morning, and I was in Sunday school with our teacher. What was his name? Well, anyway, the teacher—Todd something. Or was it something Todd? It doesn’t matter. He dismissed the class but asked me to stay back and help him straighten up the room. I gladly helped, and I was putting the colored pencils back in the boxes when a bright flash lit up the room.”

  “I thought you were in a basement?” asks Seth.

  “Shhh!” I say.

  “I was. But each room had three tiny rectangular windows at the top of the wall to let in some natural light. But that’s why it was so concerning—that so much light came through such small windows.

  “Right after the light, which I’ll admit kind of stunned me a bit, there was an enormous crack. Kind of like those fireworks that explode into a palm tree and crackle on the way down.

  “I remember my Sunday school teacher moaning. Something was giving him pain. But when I turned to see if he was injured, I saw an alien. Standing right in front of me. At first I thought that I’d jumped and screamed, but actually I couldn’t move at all. And no sound could come out of my mouth.”

  My butt feels glued to the seat.

  “This is creepy,” says Seth.

  “Quit interrupting!” I say.

  “Someone’s touchy,” he replies.

  I glare at Seth and then turn back to Meridian X so that she can continue.

  “The alien put out his hand—and I was suddenly no longer frozen. I took it, and we walked what felt like up and through the wall. But I know that can’t be right. That’d be impossible. But that’s what I remember.

  “Next thing I know, I’m being fanned awake by my Sunday school teacher on the carpet of the room. He said I had fainted.”

  “What? What kind of ending is that?” asks Seth. “You don’t remember the actual abduction or the spaceship or anything?”

  Meridian X shakes her head and takes a sip of coffee. “Wish I did. I’d be a millionaire.”

  I finally have to ask a question. “And no one else saw or heard anything?”

  She shakes her head again. “The few people I asked just laughed at me. So I quickly gave up on asking. They thought it was a vision I had while I was passed out. But the thing is, I’d never passed out before that occurrence, and I haven’t passed out since.”

  * * *

  Seth and I stand in the parking lot, waving to Meridian X as she drives away.

  There are some dark clouds right above us, but only a few, so it doesn’t look like the storm will last.

  “Ready to go?” Seth asks.

  I notice the camera hanging around his neck again. “Wait. Do you have pictures?”

  “I have lots of pictures.”

  “No, of last night.”

  “Oh, uh . . . I actually didn’t have my camera handy. I was in bed, and by the time I got up and saw what was happening, the thing was gone.”

  “Oh,” I say, looking down at the gravel parking lot, the few weeds here and there, the crumbling cement car bumpers.

  “Let’s go,” he says with excitement.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere. We have my mom’s car.”

  Now we’re on the old highway heading to Waterloo, a town smaller than Whitehall (if you can believe that). It’s only a handful of minutes away, and only a handful of people live there.

  Seth is quiet for a moment, and then says, “Do you believe her? The story about being abducted?” Seth looks like he can’t decide what to believe. “It just seems . . . I don’t know. Off.”

  “You don’t believe her?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, maybe she just had a dream. We know she passed out. Doesn’t that make more sense?”

  “But that’s not what she believes.”

  Seth is quiet and thoughtful, and the silence builds. I look at him. The road. Him. He turns to me and smiles. “Does that make a difference?” he asks.

  “Does it matter to her if we believe her or not?”

  “Hmm. I can’t think this deeply on an empty stomach. How about some pizza?”

  Fat drops of rain start to hit the windshield.

  “Pizza sounds amazing,” I say.

  We reach the turnoff for the “town” of Waterloo, which is literally a dirt road. This should give a sense of the size, when the only road to get to a town isn’t even paved. Seth looks at me and says, “I’ve never been to Waterloo.”

  “You don’t want to go.”

  “Let’s check it out.”

  I shake my head. “It’s depressing. There’s, like, four houses with old people. And some horses.”

  “It has to be bigger than that.”

  “Nope.”

  As he drives through the “town,” he says, “There’s nothing here. What makes it a town?”

  “It has a postal code.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Do you know what ‘waterloo’ means?” I ask.

  Seth shakes his head. “Isn’t ‘loo’ what they call a bathroom in England?” His face is serious.

  “Really?” I ask.

  Seth laughs. “So the word means ‘water toilet.’ ”

  I laugh. “Water toilet? No. ‘Defeat.’ ”

  “What?” Seth turns the car around. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “To ‘meet your waterloo’
is to be defeated.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “How do we know anything?” I ask.

  “What kind of an answer is that?”

  “An okay one.” I smirk as Seth shakes his head at me.

  We leave the town of Waterloo in the distance.

  THE PLAN AND SOME PIZZA

  • • • • •

  We’re sitting at a table waiting for the large pepperoni pizza with anchovies (because Seth is weird), when I scoot to the edge of my chair. “I have an idea for our summer adventure. Meridian X told me that this week is historically the most active week for alien and UFO activity.”

  “There’s such a thing?”

  “What do you say we go on a weeklong camping trip, starting tomorrow? But not just camping, searching for aliens?”

  He smirks and says, “Just us? I don’t know much about camping.”

  “I know enough. And I can teach you.”

  He leans back and thinks. “Hmm.”

  “We can make s’mores.”

  “Okay. I’m in.”

  We both laugh, and the door opens right next to our table. There’s a person silhouetted against the blinding bright sun that has emerged after the rainstorm. After the door closes, Jennifer Bennett approaches. My heart beats irregularly, and I don’t want to look at her directly for fear of embarrassment and shame, but I don’t want to look away, because she’s the most beautiful girl in the universe. She’s wearing short shorts and yellow sunglasses, which she’s pulling off when she says, “Seth.”

  Seth jumps up and hugs Jennifer.

  A pang of jealousy stabs my chest, but I’m trying to play it cool. Did he know she was coming? It feels like he’s not really that surprised to see her.

  “Hi, Charlie,” says Jennifer, sitting down at our table.

  “Oh, um, hi.” I turn away awkwardly and stare at the sunlight shining on the five-room motel across the street. Would you believe this is the most I’ve said to her all year? I know, I know.

  But watching them talk, I’m wondering why Seth wouldn’t tell me that Jennifer was coming to pizza, unless he didn’t want me to question him about it. And he wouldn’t want me to question him about it if he’s dating her. Especially because he’s known all along how much I like her.