by Debbie Zaken
“Great. I love chicken.” A fake smile twisted my lips.
I watched as she proceeded to mutilate an innocent bag of carrots. By the time Dad walked into the kitchen, half the bag had been sacrificed and my normally put together, well dressed mother was a disheveled mess. Her blonde waves had escaped her loose pony tail and fell all over her face, her blouse was wrinkled, and her face flushed.
“Dannah, why are you making appetizers? This isn’t a dinner party. Didn’t I tell you not to do all this? They don’t eat our food. They don’t consider it healthy enough.”
Mom froze, her fingers curling around the kitchen knife, sharp end pointing up. My poor unsuspecting father, not only failed to realize her agitation, he’d also chosen the wrong thing to criticize her on: Her cooking. If there was one thing Dannah Reilly prided herself on was the well-balanced, all from scratch, tasty meals she went through much effort to prepare for her family. It was because of her obsession to avoid processed foods like the plague that Chase and I had suffered years of junk food deprivation and could only ever get our fix outside of the house.
She slammed the knife onto the counter and gave Dad the look— the one no one ever wants to get from her. “How can this not be healthy enough? I spent a fortune at that stupid organic store. I can’t even pronounce half this stuff, but the girl at the check-out counter with more tattoos than a biker, raved about it!”
Dad shot me a nervous glance and eased behind her. He released the knife from her hands, like he was afraid she might actually turn it on him.
“Why don’t you sit down and have some wine? You’ve done so much already. I’ll finish the salad.”
She eyed him with suspicion, as he opened up a bottle of white wine and poured her a glass. But she accepted it and sat on a bar stool by the counter. With nothing to do but drink her wine and stare at Dad, she kept drumming her perfectly manicured nails on the granite counter. He, meanwhile, focused on chopping the remaining vegetables with a tense look on his face. A heavy silence fell over the room.
Ethan was right. They’re so not ready for this.
This dinner was starting to look like a bad idea by the minute. Dad had finished the salad—maybe the only thing Ethan would eat, if he’d eat at all—when he picked up a bottle of dressing.
“Wait, Dad. I don’t think Ethan will eat that if it has dressing on it.”
He stared at me, as many sparks shooting from his eyes as Mom. She threw her hands in the air.
“I can’t do this, John. This is ridiculous. I can’t pretend this is okay.”
“Mom—”
Dad shot me a look of warning and I shut up.
“I know, honey. But he’ll be here soon. Let’s just get through tonight.” That may have been what came out of his mouth, but the look on his face said: Remember, this was your idea.
“Fine.” Mom took a large gulp of wine and turned to me. “But one more word from you and it’ll be the McDonalds drive thru for dinner.”
Chase walked into the kitchen, clueless to the little scene that had taken place. “McDonalds for dinner? Finally something good to eat in this house.”
Mom glared at him. Fortunately for Chase, the doorbell rang before anyone could respond.
I hesitated, hoping Ethan’s superhuman hearing had picked up on the heated conversation, and he’d decided to stick to sneaking me out once my parents were asleep. But when nobody answered the door, he rang the bell again.
“Well, aren’t you going to get that?” Mom snapped at me.
Oh, come on Ethan! Can’t mind reading be one of those super cool skills of yours?
“You should probably be the one to answer,” Dad said to me, half a smile crossing his lips. “Don’t worry about the food. If he doesn’t like it, there’s plenty of grass for him to graze on in the yard.”
I gnawed the inside of my cheek, glaring at Dad. “He is not a barnyard animal.” I’d heard the comparisons about the Celeians eating only hay like cows. I’d even seen a hashtag trending that morning about the Celeian diet or lack thereof, since no one had ever seen them eat anything.
I went to the door, hoping that if Ethan had heard anything of the ridiculous conversation, it wasn’t that last part. But of course, the smirk on his perfect face told me that’s exactly what he’d heard and that he found it all very amusing.
“Good evening,” he murmured. “Or should I say moo?”
I pressed my eyes lips together. “I’m sorry about that. They’re not handling this very well.”
“It is going to be an interesting evening.” He chuckled and stepped into the foyer.
Dad hovered over me, his face hard as he gave him a curt nod. “Ethan.”
“Hello, Jonathan.”
A muscle in Dad’s jaw jerked when Ethan pronounced his name. Not Sir, Dr. or Mr. Reilly. None of the formality expected in this type of situation. Not even Taylor’s condescending false politeness. Ethan’s tone, while polite, left no doubt he was speaking to an equal. My father wasn’t an authority figure to him and he wasn’t about to pretend he was. It didn’t matter that he was there as the boyfriend officially meeting the parents for the very first time. And it didn’t matter that he looked like a college sophomore talking to someone who could’ve been his professor. Appearances were irrelevant, because Ethan was an extraterrestrial from a distant planet and it made no difference if he was a thousand years old. This fact rendered Dad basically powerless and from the grimace on his face, he knew it, too.
“You remember Dannah? Skye’s mother.” Dad gestured to one very uneasy-looking Mrs. Reilly.
“Of course.” Ethan gave her a polite grin, but didn’t extend his hand, his arms remaining close to his side. “Thank you again for the invitation.”
Mom’s lips cracked into an almost painful smile. “Come in. We can go to the dining room. Everything is ready.”
A dead silence followed us to the formal dining room, the tension in the air thickening with every step. My stomach coiled as I glanced at Ethan.
He dismissed my anxiety with a wink and an encouraging smile. “It will be okay.” The minty electricity from his breath surrounded me and I felt the tension begin to dissipate.
Our formal dining room was not very formal. It reflected Mom’s casual and contemporary style to a T. Still, the moment we walked in, I was nervous again. Dad took a seat at the head of the glass table. I sunk into a tangerine upholstered chair to his left, with Ethan sitting next to me. Mom sat on my Dad’s right when she realized we were missing a family member.
“Where’s Chase?”
I shrugged. “Must be in the living room.”
Staying clear away from this train wreck.
“Chase, dinner time,” she called. When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Chase!”
Still no answer. “Chase Benjamin Reilly, you better get in here if you don’t want to find your Xbox in the trash tomorrow!”
Three seconds later Chase stormed in. “All right, all right. I’m here.”
“Go sit down,” Mom barked at him.
Knowing full well she would follow through with her threat, he sat next to her. Then his glance fell on Ethan.
“So you’re the alien dude that’s dating my sister.”
Chase’s knack for being a smart ass also gave him the uncanny ability for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. Dad’s face fell even further than I thought possible, and Mom’s hand gripped her wine glass tightly, meanwhile I toyed with the idea of crawling under the table. Ethan covered the amused grin that had escaped his lips with his fingers.
“Ethan,” he replied.
“Yeah, Ethan.” Chase turned to me. “You’re right, Skye. He’s not as creepy as the others.”
I slapped a hand to my face, hiding my fiery red cheeks. Ethan let out a short snort, the kind that comes from trying to choke back a laugh.
“Thank you. I think.”
“Chase, I need your help in the kitchen,” Mom muttered through gritted teeth.
“Yes, you. Now.”
While Chase followed her, my gaze shifted to Dad. The eyes looking back at me were similar to mine: deep green under dark expressive brows. But now they crinkled, sad and worried.
This is hopeless. They are never going to accept Ethan.
Under the table, Ethan slid my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. His voice was more a breath than a whisper. “Skye.”
Soft pulses tickled my skin. But the energy spreading through me felt calming. I arched an eyebrow at him and he smiled, answering my unspoken question. He was altering my mood—calming my nerves. Our fingers intertwined and I squeezed his hand tighter.
“Okay, I hope everybody’s hungry.” Mom set the chicken on the table. “Chase, put the vegetables over there. I’m going to get the rest.”
“The rest? There’s enough food here to feed my entire class,” Chase muttered under his breath.
“Chase,” Dad warned.
We watched with morbid fascination as Mom brought in dish after dish, like someone suffering from some kind of compulsive cooking disorder. When she finished, the table looked like the buffet counter at an all-you-can-eat restaurant.
“Please, help yourselves,” she managed to say, although she herself looked pale and nauseous.
Chase jumped for the food. But just as he was about to serve himself a whopping spoon of mashed potatoes, he realized everyone else was still sitting stiffly in their seats. With the spoon in his hand, he hesitated and glanced at Mom, waiting for some kind of sign. Still, no one moved.
Dad cleared his throat. “Everything smells great, Dannah. Skye, pass me the vegetables, please.”
I did. And with that single act, the ice broke. For the briefest moment, it was just another family dinner as we passed around the various plates. I had just taken a roll from the basket when Chase howled in pain.
The white porcelain bowl ricocheted off the table and landed with a crash on the floor. It shattered into tiny pieces, spilling Mom’s honey and ginger green beans all over the hardwood floor.
Chase squealed, holding one hand in the other and pressing them close to his chest. Next to me, Ethan turned into a cold, white, marble statue.
“Chase, are you okay? What happened?” Concern strained Mom’s face.
“I-I don’t know. I burned my hand. I was passing the bowl to Ethan and I felt a shock. Next thing I knew my hand was burning! ”
He raised his hand, showing us the three deep, circular burn marks where Ethan’s fingers had charred his skin. One of the marks had a dark spot in the center and the skin around it was peeled back. It was like Chase’s skin had burned from the inside out.
Dad and Ethan had both frozen in place, the shock and horror displayed on their faces. Mom reacted, going into care-giver mode, without even questioning the freak accident.
“Let me see.” She examined Chase’s hand. “It’s not too bad. Let’s go rinse it and get some antiseptic.”
They disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a heavy silence in the dining room. After a few moments, I turned to face my Dad. Mom might not have known what caused the burn, but the alarm sharpening his gaze told me he did.
“Jonathan, I am so sorry.” Ethan’s voice strained. “It was an accident. I- I would never…”
With his hand over his mouth, Dad closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
“Naomi has an ointment she made,” Ethan went on nervously. “For these types of burns. It repairs the damaged tissue and skin cells within minutes. There will not even be a scar. I will go get it now.” He stood.
“That’s not necessary.” Mom walked in with Chase, whose hand was now wrapped in gauze. “I spoke with the pediatrician. So strange. He asked me if Chase was playing with electricity. Said it sounded like an electrical burn. How could that even happen?”
The three people in the room who knew exactly how it happened remained tight-lipped. The mood went from awkward to tenebrous. We ate in absolute silence; the only sounds the clanging of the silverware on the plates. Ethan didn’t move an inch. He didn’t touch a single piece of food, his eyes never leaving his empty plate. He had receded so completely, it was like he was a ghost.
As soon as dinner ended, my parents disappeared into the kitchen. Ethan and I went into the family room and found Chase lying on the couch with a huge bowl of ice cream on his chest. His head was propped on a pillow as he stared at the blank screen on the wall.
“Boy, you must really be injured if you’re not even watching TV.” I tried to make a joke, though I couldn’t stand to see Chase hurt.
“I can’t find the stupid remote. And the Tylenol Mom gave me is making me too drowsy to play video games. Besides, my hand hurts.”
“I am truly sorry about that.” Ethan sat next to me on the loveseat. “I will bring you something tomorrow that will heal it so fast it will be like nothing ever happened.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Chase said, barely looking up from his ice cream. “I got more scars on me than a Navy SEAL. Ask Skye. I’m notorious for getting into freak accidents. Somebody can throw a football twenty yards away in the opposite direction of where I’m standing and it’ll still land on my head. It’s no surprise to anyone in this house that I would get electrocuted by a bowl of green beans.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Chase to take first-degree burns with such stride.
“It’s true. He’s terribly accident-prone. I saw the football thing happen once. It was like the ball was immune to the laws of gravity and motion. I’ve also seen him get a penny stuck in his nose, swallow a Lego, and get his head stuck in a child-proof wooden staircase railing. Mom used to joke that the ER should give her some kind of discount deal with Chase. Like a buy two visits get the third one free.”
“That’s right. I was four, but I remember the staircase railing. Dad had to butter my head like a biscuit to get it out of there.”
Chase and I laughed. Ethan didn’t think it was so funny. He looked more like he was ready to confess to murder and plea for clemency.
“I am still sorry. It never should have happened.”
“Yeah, it’s all good. I’m on my second bowl of ice cream and I think I can convince Mom to let me have a third. I just wish I could find the stupid remote.”
At this, Ethan’s face lit up. “I can show you where it is,” he told Chase. “But you have to promise to not to say a word about what you are about to see.”
Chase sat up and glanced at me. I nodded, letting him know it was okay. I had a feeling Ethan was about to show him a little magic trick that would amaze and delight. His way of making it up to Chase.
“Okay, I promise,” Chase replied.
“Watch.”
Ethan pointed one finger at the television. The remote flew from underneath the console and in the direction of my dumbfounded brother. Chase gasped, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, as the device floated in the air in front of him.
“No way.”
Chase lifted his hand and touched it lightly with one finger. The remote started twirling in the air. When the TV turned on his eyes became as big as saucers.
“How’d you do that?”
“It is just a little knack I have. Take it.” Ethan smiled.
Chase arched a dubious eyebrow at me.
“Go ahead, Chase. It’s okay.” I gave him an encouraging smile.
He grabbed the remote from the air, holding it in the palm of his hand like some kind of precious jewel. “That was amazing. Skye, did you see that? Did you know he could do that?”
“Yeah, I did.” I smiled at the look on Chase’s face. I could only imagine how amazed he’d be if he knew Ethan could fly him anywhere he wanted.
“Just remember,” Ethan whispered. “No one can know. Not even your parents.”
“Trust me, I won’t tell a soul.” Chase grinned and started zapping through the channels.
“I think you just made the number one spot on his coolest people e
ver list,” I whispered to Ethan.
“At least I made a good impression on someone tonight. Who would have thought it would be the burn victim.”
I sighed. “What happened there?”
He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “I got nervous. Your parents, the food…I was not expecting Chase to pass me that bowl. I lost control for a millisecond. Skye, I cannot describe how awful I feel.”
“It’s okay.” I reached for his hand, but he jumped and pulled it away fast.
“No, it is not. I could have really hurt him. What if it happens again? What if I hurt you?”
I glanced at Chase half asleep on the couch, the Tylenol taking effect, and turned back to Ethan. “Stop. This isn’t your fault.”
“Of course it is. Who else’s fault would it be?”
“Ethan—”
“We should reschedule tonight. I need to think things through.”
“No! You’re not bailing on me. We’re going to the ship tonight and that’s that. Stop torturing yourself. He’ll be fine, really. And I’ll be fine…as long as you’re with me.”
I glided one finger on the back of his hand. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.” When he didn’t yank it away, I pressed his hand to my lips and breathed in the soft electric pulses. “I’ll talk to Naomi and Abigail and everything will be all right.”
He closed his eyes and pinched the space between his brows.
“Skye, it’s almost eight,” Mom called from the hallway. “Curfew, remember?”
My shoulders slumped in mock frustration. “I know, Mom. Ethan’s almost leaving.” I turned to Ethan. “Sorry. Prison visiting hours are over.”
His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Might as well. I have caused enough damage for one night.”
I shot him a look of warning. “You better not stand me up tonight. You don’t want to see me get angry.”
This time I got a half smile. “An angry Skye could quite possibly put the fear of God in this atheist extraterrestrial. Hopefully, my family gathering will go better than this one.”
I didn’t see how it could go any worse.
We got up and walked to the door. My parents were already there.