Chapters 5, 6, 7, and 8

Chapter Five: Picnic Time With Ramona and Conway at the Park

It had been a series of beautiful days, weatherwise, lately. Ramona wasn’t sure when she had started caring about the weather so much, but she figured it was sometime during her stint on the self checkout lanes. Since all the self checkout lanes were by the large window on the left side of the store, she got a good look at whatever was going on outside, which was rarely anything interesting. But the weather always made it self apparent, be it a dazzling sun that would eventually work its way into the perfect position to both blind her and blindside the fifth register (before the registers were all replaced a few months ago) for at least half an hour if not more, or a cloudy day that refused to make up its mind whether or not it was going to stay cloudy or let some sky (but never sun) slip through. At some point she had started to think of the weather as a personal affront to herself, as if the universe were trying to spite her with clouds when she left for work that dissolved a half hour after she walked through the grocery store’s doors. Perhaps she had just never noticed how cloudy the weather was around there before, but it certainly seemed like there was more sun before she started working there. Not that she noticed any time but when she was on the self checkout lanes. Still, she now felt slightly obligated to minorly rejoice whenever the sun was out, although she also chalked it up to absorbing some vitamin D. Very handy in that regard.

The point was, the weather was very nice lately, and while Ramona enjoyed seeing blue skies and feeling the sun on her (admittedly rather pale) skin, she couldn’t help but feel that something was not quite right. There was something she couldn’t put her finger on, but at the same time, she didn’t really mind because, hey, nice weather is nice weather.

“If it’s this nice tomorrow,” she typed in an IM window, “we should do something” she hit enter even though she hadn’t finished the sentence. She wasn’t entirely sure how she should finish that sentence, and Conway was not helpful in typing back, “Like?”

“Like something outside,” she typed back. “Maybe a picnic or something.”

“I’ve never been on a picnic.”

“Neither have I.” “But it could be fun.” “We could go to the park, and I’d make some sandwiches.”

“I’m in.”

“I thought you might be.”

Although she had never been to a picnic before, she figured that it probably something that she should do at least once in her life, and with weather this nice, it seemed like the perfect time. She grabbed a random post-it stuck to her desk, quickly crossed off the seemingly random words written on it (that is, she could no longer remember why she had thought “Gannet Poor” and “Capel Ending” were important enough to jot down), and started making a list of the things they would need for a picnic.

“We’ll need a blanket or something to sit on, preferably checked,” she typed.

“How about beach towels?” Conway typed back.

“Um, no.” “I wonder where people get those checked blankets or whatevers.”

Over the course of the next half hour they worked together to hash out exactly what they needed to bring, who would bring what, and whether or not it was absolutely essential to pack everything up in a wicker basket (Ramona maintained that it was, but Conway was able to get her to concede that she didn’t have one and also didn’t know where to get one, making the point thoroughly moot and not worth wasting time over).

The next day did indeed dawn just as beautifully as the day before it. “Picnic is on!” Ramona exclaimed when she called Conway’s cellphone and just got voicemail. It was earlier than usual for her, especially for a day off. But she was up and fully caffeinated already, and so she waited impatiently for her roommate to finish getting ready and just go to work already so she could have the kitchen to herself for sandwich making. She had already made egg salad the night before, seeing as she enjoyed it whether picnicking or not. But as she flipping from one site to another on her computer, waiting with the door partly open so she’d know exactly when Sheila left, she couldn’t help feeling like it was taking her roommate longer than usual to get going. It wasn’t like she timed her or anything, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Sheila was spending longer in her room than usual, and had for the past few days. “Probably just my imagination,” she thought, and hopped onto Tvtropes, a guaranteed distraction. Sure enough, she heard the front door open and close before too long, and then she hopped into action. As she exited her room, she noticed something kind of beige peeking out from the corner of Sheila’s door. She didn’t think too much of it, though, as she had sandwiches to make.

They met at the park around lunchtime. They were not the only ones who had decided to take advantage of the nice weather, as the park was nearly full with people enjoying all manner of activities, including a few others who were also picnicking, and a number of people just throwing around a Frisbee. School was still in session, so there weren‘t too many kids. “I‘m surprised there‘s this many people here,” Ramona commented, “considering it‘s only Thursday.” (“Shouldn’t they be at work?” she wondered, but only to herself.)

“There’s a good spot over there,” Conway said, pointing to an open area a little ways off. The two of them weaved through the other people in the park, and managed to get there before anyone else claimed it. And so they spread the blanket out on the ground, and Ramona set down the reusable grocery bag she had brought in lieu of a wicker basket. She started to unpack her part of the picnic supplies, which included a veritable mountain of sandwiches.

“I didn’t know how many we’d want, so I just made a bunch.” This was a blatant lie, but Ramona hoped she could sell it as otherwise. The real reason she had made so many sandwiches was her secret desire to see Conway eat them all (minus one or two for herself), but she wasn’t quite ready to share this with him so soon. Frankly, it was all she could do at the moment to keep the color from rising in her cheeks and giving herself away. So she claimed an egg salad sandwich and a ham sandwich (with gouda cheese and mayo) for herself, and they settled in to picnic their little hearts out.

Out of all the times she and Conway had gone out since getting together two months ago, Ramona had to say that this picnic was her favorite, hands down. Lying in the sun, enjoying an egg salad sandwich and lemonade (Conway had brought some chips, but she wasn’t bothering with those), not to mention the sight of Conway plowing through her sandwiches (HER sandwiches!), while they talked about nothing in particular.

“Have you seen The Wicker Man? Not the newer one, but the one from the seventies,” Ramona asked.

“Nope,” Conway answered, as he finished off a roast beef sandwich (with lettuce, white cheddar, and mayo).

“You should, it’s really good,” Ramona said, “And totally creepy, not to mention it has a young Christopher Lee in drag.”

“What, really?” Conway asked, though not incredulously, as Ramona thought he might. Just regular curiosity.

“The absolute truth,” she replied, “I won’t spoil the reason, though.” Normally she wouldn’t have suggested they watch it together, but just thinking about the movie made her feel slightly creeped out. She still thought it was a great film, she just didn’t want to watch it again. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had thought of it suddenly, and when tried to follow her train of thought backwards, she got distracted by a Frisbee hitting the back of her head.

“Sorry!” a voice called out, and someone ran over to retrieve the disk. Ramona didn’t bother looking to see who it was, she just kept her eyes closed while she waited for the pain to subside.

“Hey, not cool,” Conway said to whoever it was that threw (or was simply retrieving) the Frisbee.

“Sorry, man,” the person said, and then ran off.

“Are you okay?” Conway asked Ramona, who still had her eyes closed.

“Almost,” Ramona replied. She rubbed the back of her head where the Frisbee had hit her. “Ouch…”

“Hold on, I’ll be right back,” Conway said, and Ramona opened her eyes to see where he was going. An ice cream vendor was taking advantage of the busy park, and had parked his cart not too far from where they were sitting. Soon Conway came back and tossed her a Strawberry Shortcake ice cream bar. He sat back down and unwrapped a Choco Taco for himself.

Ramona smiled, feeling the pain in the back of her head melt away with the rising happiness in her heart. “Thank you,” she told him, unwrapped the bar, and started to eat it. Secretly, she would have preferred a Choco Taco herself, but she wasn’t going to mention that now. Besides, she did like Strawberry Shortcake, in all its incarnations.

“Does that help?” Conway asked, perfectly serious.

“Yes, it does,” Ramona said, as she finished it off. She grinned at him, “You are too sweet sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?” he teased her.

“Just sometimes,” she teased right back. But she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She didn’t want to be one of “those people” that got blogged about on her friends’ lists, so she tried to keep their PDAs (public displays of affection) to a minimum when they were out and about, even if she wasn’t at work. Of course, when they were not in public, it was a different story altogether. She was about to say something of no consequence, when she felt something land on her cheek. Somehow, clouds had rolled in without them noticing, and it was starting to rain.

They quickly packed up the remnants of their picnic lunch and used the blanket as a cover until they made it back to the car. They were both still pretty wet, though.

“Where did this come from?” was all Ramona could ask, watching as rain streamed down the windows.

“Yeah, that was weird,” Conway agreed, “It sunny just a minute ago, and then all this rain.”

“Really weird,” Ramona echoed. Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she had an inkling that this sudden shower was not just a fluke. However, her one thought on the matter was simply, “The universe hates me,” although later that evening she wondered if it was some kind of sign from God that she and Conway should be taking things slower when they were alone. Either that, or he was trying to help them out by driving them together. One thing she knew for sure, running for cover during a sudden rain shower was not nearly as romantic as all those songs and movies made it seem.

Chapter Six: In Which I Attempt to Tell My Roommate About The Alien

I lay on my bed and sighed. I was waiting for my dinner to finish digesting, and I didn’t really have anything I wanted to do, with nothing good on TV at the moment, and not really feeling like reading, either. So I was just hanging out in my room while Em worked in silence. He had been working in my room for days, and he still hadn’t finished fixing the leak or whatever was wrong with the hub thing, despite working tirelessly (in my opinion, anyway) almost nonstop. And frankly, I was getting a little tired of him. When he worked, he didn’t talk, because he needed the tablet to translate, but he also took up my room so I couldn’t use my desk comfortably. And alien or not, I didn’t want to dress or undress in front of him, so I was stuck using the bathroom for my changing purposes, and I was getting sick of that. I didn’t mind so much at bedtime, but in the morning, I usually liked to sit on my bed and read a little bit before getting dressed. It made me feel more dry, and I didn’t have that luxury changing in the bathroom.

On top of that, I still had yet to let my roommate in on the fact that we had an extra alien tenant. Somehow we kept missing each other. Either she’d go in early and go out after work (I assumed most of the time, although sometimes she left a post-it on her door to that effect), or she’d still be asleep when I was getting ready for work, which usually meant that she was staying at work late into the night, and the one time I was still up when she got back in, she’d gone straight to her room with such a murderous look on her face that I decided to wait for a better time. But I knew that the longer I kept Em’s presence from her, the worse it would be when I finally revealed it. Unfortunately, I also knew that it would be better to tell her when there was plenty of time for her to get used to the idea. I couldn’t just throw out, “Oh hey, I’m secretly harboring an alien in my room,” over breakfast, and I definitely couldn’t send her an e-mail about the situation, either. Although at the rate I was going, that was starting to sound like a viable option. I decided to give it two more days, and if I didn’t find a good chance by then, I would have to force it.

I wondered briefly whether I should just go to Grocery Mart while she was working and tell her about it there. I could pretend I was a bagger and talk to her there. But I quickly pushed that idea out of my head. Telling her about Em while she was at work would be even worse than tossing it out over breakfast, that was almost certain. My best bet, as far as she was concerned, was to casually find out what her schedule was this week, and then ambush her on a day off.

Then, wonder of wonders, I heard the front door open. I got of the bed, weaved past Em and the hub and opened my door just a crack, on the off-chance that it was a burglar, although I really doubted that. I heard Ramona’s voice talking to someone, but I couldn’t quite make out the actual words. It was not lost on me that here she was, home at a decent hour for once, and I probably wouldn’t get a better chance. But I figured I would give her some time to decompress from work (or whatever she had been doing. Who was she talking to?) before I approached her. While this made perfect sense, I was also feeling a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. I mean, sure, it was probably the best time I would get to talk to her all week, but still, how exactly do you bring this kind of thing up. I closed the door and went to lay on my bed again. I’d give her a half hour, I thought, and then I’d try to get a conversation going. In the meantime, I could figure out how to tell my roommate about the alien.

“So you’re going to tell her about me?” Em commented, not looking up from the hub he was working on.

“This is probably the best chance I’ll get,” I replied, picking at a piece of fuzz on my sweater.

“Probably,“ Em agreed. He turned the hub around without disturbing the drop cloth somehow.

It took a moment before it hit me what had just happened. “Wait a minute, you didn’t use the tablet!” I rolled over to make sure I was right, and sure enough the tablet was sitting on my desk, untouched.

Em looked right at me. “I’ve been practicing,” was all he said.

I was speechless. It hadn’t really occurred to me that Em could pick up our language without looking at the tablet in just a couple of days. But then, I was at work most of the day, so there was plenty he could have done when I wasn’t around, I supposed. But my immediate thoughts were on whether or not this would make it easier to present him to my roommate or not. I didn’t think it really made that much of a difference, since he and I had communicated just fine when he was stuck using the tablet, but it might be more useful (maybe) for Ramona to see him without it (again, just maybe). And then another thought struck me.

“So, all this time when I was being quiet because I thought we couldn’t talk while you were working, you could have been, I don’t know, telling me alien secrets of the galaxy?” I wasn’t sure why my mind went in that direction, but the words were out before I had fully formed them.

“Not really, no,” Em replied, unphased by the question, apparently. “I was still hard at work, after all.” He puffed out his chest a little. “I’ve made remarkable progress here. I should be done in about two days.”

“Well, that’s good,” I replied, still reeling a little from the combined forces of Em’s revelation and Ramona actually being home for once. I lay back on the bed and thought about what to say now, in light of this new piece of info. As I’d thought, it really didn’t make a difference with how I began. The facts were still the same: I had an alien living in my room, and he had been here under her nose for days without me mentioning it. But how to really bring that up? Should I go with a slow open, or cut right to the point? No matter which way I thought about it, I couldn’t see any “best” way to go about it, so I decided to just jump right into it.

“All right,” I said, swinging myself off the bed to give myself extra momentum in case my determination fell through. “Wait here until I call you,” I told Em, and then left my room to knock on Ramona’s door. I did so quickly, to keep myself on track.

“Just a sec,” Ramona said from inside her room. So I waited, still unclear on how to begin, but knowing I had to just go through with it or die trying (figuratively, of course. I didn’t really want to die over not being able to spit out some information. Which is why I’ll never be a spy, just saying). After a moment, Ramona opened the door, and I noticed she was already in her pajamas. Or at least, I assumed that a t-shirt and flannel drawstring pants were pajamas. For all I knew, she wasn’t planning to sleep in those clothes, just lounge around. But enough stalling, I told myself, and launched straight into what I hoped wouldn’t be an awkward conversation, despite my gut feeling that it couldn’t be anything but.

“So, hey, Ramona, I was wondering if you have a minute to talk?” I started.

“Sure,” she replied, “What’s up?”

“Well, this is kind of hard to explain,” I continued, “It’s just that, er,” I was stalling, and I guess I must have glanced toward the bathroom because Ramona cut me off.

“This isn’t about the toilet, is it? ‘Cause I’m not dealing with anything wet today,” Ramona said, and I noticed for the first time that her hair was slightly damp. There had been a rain shower earlier that day, but I was inside for the whole thing and it was over by the time I was off work. Had she gotten caught in it? I thought she had gone to work today, but maybe… I was losing my train of thought, so I quickly got back on track in our conversation.

“No, nothing about the toilet,” I said, “It’s, ah,” but before I could get any further, Ramona’s cellphone started ringing.

“Hold that thought,” Ramona told me, “This’ll just take a minute,” and with that she shut her door again and started talking to whoever was on the other end of the line.

I slunk back into my room, my resolve thoroughly deflated.

“No good, huh?” Em asked, as I collapsed onto my bed.

“Not at all,” I said, though I was secretly glad to be off the hook for the moment. I knew it was only a temporary reprieve, but it was a welcome one none the less. I still felt all wobbly inside when I thought about needing to do that again. Maybe next time I would just send Em over to introduce himself and keep myself out of it until absolutely necessary.

In the end, Ramona stayed on the phone for well over an hour, or maybe she made another call after the first. All I know is that the sounds of her talking to someone came through the walls faintly, just loud enough that I could hear her voice, but low enough that I couldn’t make out any of the words.

“What do you think she’ll do when she finds out?” Em asked. “Is she the type to faint?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, “People really don’t faint as much as they do in books. Or on TV, I guess,” I added as an afterthought. “At least, I’ve never seen anyone faint for real.”

“Neither have I,” Em said.

“Do your people faint at all?” It occurred to me that this might not be a common condition.

“I would imagine so,” Em replied, “Fainting is just falling unconscious, is it not? Like sleep, but faster.” He gave the hub a small kick after he said this.

“I guess so,” I hadn’t thought of it like that. But then again, I didn’t want to assume anything here. Just because Em was humanoid in appearance, and just because, as I had learned in the past couple of days, our societies shared a number of similarities, was by no means an indication that we were alike in every way. I mean, my life wasn’t even the same as people from the same planet. Like in China, it’s considered rude not to slurp your soup or noodles. How weird is that?

Over the past couple of days, I had managed to find out a little bit more about Em’s home planet. I couldn’t pronounce its name, but I was getting used to that. He lived in a city, or something like a city, at least. The way he described it didn’t quite mesh up with the mental picture I made of it, but I was never very good at visualizing things without seeing them first. It kind of sounded like the entire planet (or at least, what he knew of it) was made of city, but that wasn’t a given, as I’ve said. Em really didn’t want to go into too much detail, and considering the work he had to do, I didn’t probe too deep, either, besides the occasional question that popped into my head all of a sudden. Now that I knew he could talk and work at the same time, though, I felt a little bolder.

“So, do you have a girlfriend or wife, or something?” I asked.

Em didn’t answer at first. “There is someone I care about,” he said simply. I considered going in for more details, but decided to let this one go. For now.

I didn’t get another chance to talk to Ramona before I had to get to bed. As I brushed my teeth, I wondered how long my luck, both good in that she hadn’t run into Em on her own, and bad in that I had yet to actually tell her, would hold out. For all I knew, Em could be out of here before Ramona even had to find out about him, but somehow, I didn’t think that was very likely.

Chapter Seven: Ramona’s Dreams Take Up Most of Her Day

Sometimes Ramona really hated the way her body approached sleep. Most of the time, she would find herself gradually getting tired, so she could reach a good stopping point in whatever she was doing online when she felt tired enough to go to bed, but still awake enough to get ready for bed. But there were certain times when her body, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, kept going full-tilt until all of a sudden she would just drop off, no matter what she was doing. This usually meant that she ended up falling asleep in her chair at her desk, with whatever she was doing on her laptop sitting there until she roused herself enough to turn off her computer and make a half-assed attempt at her night time routine. Such was the case of Thursday night into Friday morning.

When Ramona’s alarm went off the next morning, she rolled over and groaned, but turned it off. She had been having a vivid dream, which always made her reluctant to wake up again, but wake up was the only course of action today. She didn’t have time to linger in bed, hitting snooze and trying to recapture whatever she had been dreaming about. As she pulled herself out of bed, ambled to the kitchen, and started up the coffee pot, she tried to remember what exactly she had been dreaming about. She felt like it had been vivid enough that she should remember, but now that she was awake, it was all very vague. She remembered that there was a movie theater involved, and a refillable slushie machine, but other than that, she couldn’t quite place it.

The feeling stuck with her for the rest of the day, though it was forgotten during the busier parts at work. The strange thing was, she had been having vivid dreams these past couple of days, and she wasn’t sure why. The one she had had the night before last had been especially strong, and she remembered a good chunk of it. She dreamed that she and Conway had gone to the city to see a musical, but when they got to the theater, they got separated somehow, and so she sat alone. When the show started, she realized that she had already seen it, although upon waking up, she decided it wasn’t a show that actually existed, although all she really remembered about it was that it had a predominantly black cast, not very good songs, and a scene near the beginning of the second act that involved picking a name for a baby. At the intermission she had gone outside of the theater, wondering why she was seeing a show she had already seen and not something she hadn’t seen, like Rent (which was playing at the theater across from her in the dream), and suddenly realized that she didn‘t have her cellphone or ticket stub with her. But then she saw a friend of her older sister, and remembered that she was there because her sister’s friend got them in for free, being involved with the show somehow, and that’s why she didn’t have a stub (didn’t explain the phone, but in her dream, she didn’t worry about that). So she had gone back inside with her sister’s friend and sat with the group of them that had gone together, even though she still hadn’t found Conway. And that was all she remembered from that dream.

What really got her about that dream was that she wasn’t even that big a fan of musicals, although she did like a good movie musical (her favorites being Little Shop of Horrors, Evita, and The Sound of Music, in that order). And there wasn’t even a city nearby where she could have gone to see a show, musical or otherwise, so where exactly had she been in her dream? Just some generic dream cityscape, she guessed. It was better not to question a dream’s logic.

As if on cue, the music playing over the PA system changed to a new song, and it was one of the few times that the store was quiet enough that the lyrics were clear to hear.

“Wake up everyone

How can you sleep at a time like this

Unless the dreamer is the real you.”

“How appropriate,” she thought, and she sang along in her head.

“I don't wanna wake before

The dream is over

I'm gonna make it mine

Yes, I... I wanna own it

I'm gonna make it mine

Yes, I'll make it all mine.”

When the song ended, her thoughts turned once again to the dreams she had been having, when her actual work duties weren’t too taxing. There had been the dream she had the night before that one. That was still bothering her, even though there hadn’t been too much to it (what she remembered of it, anyway). In her dream, a friend of hers from college was coming for a visit, and when her friend came over, she looked at her DVD collection and asked her point blank, “Why aren’t you like you were when you were with Jeffrey?” She and her friend had fought about it, and she had managed to say, “Well, this is how I am now!” Eventually they had made up, and had looked at her parents’ DVDs instead. But even though she didn’t actually know the person her dream said was her friend, and she certainly didn’t know any Jeffrey, she was still bothered by it. She didn’t like to think that anyone would judge her based on her DVD collection, but she couldn’t know for sure whether or not someone would question her judgment based on her taste in movies. Which was precisely why she had stopped trying to introduce people to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was just something they had to discover for themselves, she had concluded, after a number of failed forced viewings.

Before she knew it, her shift was over and Angela was in to replace her. Although she and Conway hadn’t been planning to get together that evening, she wanted to see him. Perhaps it was due to the dreams she’d been thinking about all day. Whatever the reason, she gave him a call before she even pulled out of the parking lot. “Are you free tonight? I need a serious distraction after today.”

“Sorry, I can’t tonight,” he answered from the other end of the line, “I have work, and I can’t get out of it this time.”

“That’s okay,” Ramona said, “I mean, it was short notice and all.” She occasionally forgot that Conway did have a job, since his hours seemed to be as random as hers usually were.

“I’m free tomorrow, though,” he pointed out, “Want to do something then?”

“Let’s see,” Ramona mentally checked her schedule, “I’m working ‘til six tomorrow, so we could do something seven, seven thirty-ish?”

“Sounds great. See you then!”

“Yeah, see you later.” She hung up and sighed. She briefly considered calling up one of her other friends, but she didn’t really feel like it. Nothing else to do but head home, she thought. Maybe catch up on something or other on the computer, or see if one of the movies she was waiting for had come in the mail yet. And so she drove home.

Ramona entered the apartment, and thought she heard a scuffle, but when she poked her nose down the hall, she just saw her roommate, sitting on the couch, eating from a take-out container, with the TV muted. She figured Sheila had just rushed to mute the TV. Her roommate was skittish about what she watched sometimes, as if she thought actually being seen enjoying some mindless entertainment would ruin her librarian cred or something. “Oh, hey,” was all Ramona said.

“Hey,” Sheila repeated, “Want some?” She held out one of the containers. “It’s general tso’s,” she added. The other container was already empty, and seemed to have contained fried rice.

“No thanks,” Ramona said. Maybe she was over thinking this, but Sheila’s smile seemed a little off. She blatantly looked at the TV to see a “Two and a Half Men” syndicated repeat. “There’s nothing wrong with sitcoms, you know,” she told her roommate.

“I know,” Sheila said, glancing at the TV herself. “It was at commercials before,” she explained.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ramona said, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. “Maybe I will have some of that tso,” she said, sitting down on the couch. Sheila handed her the container and fork, and she ate a couple.

“Y’know, if you’re not doing anything right now, besides eating, I mean, but, are you free tonight?” Sheila asked, and waited for Ramona to answer.

Ramona finished the piece the general tso’s chicken she was eating and replied, “Why? You wanna go out or something?”

“No, not exactly,” Sheila said, “It’s just… there’s something I kind of need to show you.”

Chapter Eight: In Which Em is Finally Revealed to Ramona

I knew that it was now or never. Having Sheila actually be home two nights in a row was rare enough in and of itself. Asking for a third night would be above and beyond what any deity would grant me.

“Are you having a problem with your computer?” Ramona asked me. She knew more about computers than I did (or at least, how to google a better answer than I could), so I asked her to troubleshoot for me every now and then.

“Well, no, it’s not my computer exactly,“ I said, although it wasn’t my computer at all, so I continued, “It’s weirder than that, I guess. Uh, just come over to my room.” I still wasn’t sure how to bring up Em, so I went with just showing Ramona and seeing what her reaction would be. “Em, I’m coming in,” I said quietly before opening the door.

I noticed that Em had pushed the hub more toward the corner than usual. Had he suspected I would finally (wo)man up and let Ramona in on my unintentional secret? Em himself was sitting on the bed, waiting.

“Ramona, this is Em,” I said, motioning from my roommate to the alien on my bed. “He’s, uh, an alien.” There was no point beating around the bush, not now.

“Hello,” Em said, giving her a short wave, but staying on the bed. Ramona didn’t say anything.

“I bet you’re wondering,” I started, before realizing just how cheesy that sounded. “I can’t believe I actually said that. Uh, anyway, he’s been here for a few days already, and well, it’s kind of a funny story…” I managed to give her most of the details of my meeting up with Em a few days ago, and while it wasn’t nearly as coherent as it sounded in my head, I think I got the jist of it across to her. But since she still wasn’t saying anything, I wasn’t entirely sure.

“Is she all right?” Em asked. Ramona just continued to stay silent, eyeing Em in a way that I couldn’t quite place.

“So, he’s an alien?” she said at last.

“Yes,” Em and I both said.

“And he’s been living in your room?”

“Yes, that’s right. I wanted to tell you sooner, but we were never around at the same time, and I figured you‘d better see him in person,” I told her.

“Yeah,” Ramona said slowly. “I’m just gonna, y’know, go to my room now. You two just do whatever it is you do.” And with that, she left my room.

“I guess she needs to get used to the idea,” I said to Em.

“I would think so,” Em said. “Truth be told, I’m surprised you took meeting me for the first time as well as you did, if the reactions on those TV shows are any indication.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, but I was only half listening. I thought I would feel better if Ramona knew, but now I wasn’t too sure. I’d assumed that she would be on my side and try to keep Em safe from whatever organizations there were out there that wanted to get their hands on any type of extraterrestrial, but maybe she didn’t feel the same way. Maybe she was going to call up some shady government agency first thing in the morning (it was probably too late to call tonight. Don’t most government places close at five?)! But maybe she just needed time to wrap her mind around the fact that all those alien movies she’s watched (and I know she’s watched a lot) might not be as fictional as she thought.

“Come to think of it,” I said, suddenly thinking out loud, “She’s seen enough sci-fi movies, she’ll probably be cool with you staying here.” Although, frankly, having Em at the apartment was not the experience that any “alien living with humans” movie or sitcom had promised me it would be. For one thing, those aliens tended to be more playful, and Em was totally serious, although that could just be because he wanted to get his hub fixed ASAP. And I really didn’t blame him for that. If our positions were reversed, I’d probably want to get back to my own planet as soon as possible, too.

A thought suddenly hit me, and I turned to Em. “’Those TV shows?’ When have you been watching TV?”

“When you and your roommate are at work, sometimes. How do you think I improved so much?” He puffed his chest out again as he had the day before.

“That makes sense, I guess,“ I replied. For some reason, it had never occurred to me that Em did anything while I was gone but work on his hub thing. Was I curious enough to ask what he watched? I decided I was not, and left it at that.

A little while later, Ramona walked by my room and poked her head in. She just stood there, watching Em at work (I was reading a magazine, but I noticed her) for a while, but then she came in a little more. “So, an alien?” she said finally, though I wasn’t sure if she was addressing me or Em.

I replied anyway, “Yeah.”

“And he’s not going to destroy us or anything?”

“He probably would have done that already if he was going to.”

“I am right here, you know,” Em replied, though he didn’t look up from the hub.

Ramona sat next to me on the bed and whispered in my ear, “How do you know that that isn’t some doomsday device he’s working on right now.”

“I don’t, I guess, but really, from the way he acted when we first met, I really think he’s mostly harmless.” I didn’t expect my roommate to catch the reference, and if she did, she didn’t mention it.

Ramona didn’t look fully convinced. “I don’t like this,” was all she said.

“It’s just for another day or two,” I told her. “Once that hub thing is fixed, he’ll be able to set up somewhere else without worrying about being found out, that’s all.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ramona told me, and then she got up off the bed. “I’m going back to my room, and I don’t want to be disturbed, okay?”

“Sure thing,” I said, while Em also said, “Sure.”

Ramona sighed, and left my room. Despite what she had said, I didn’t feel any differently about Em than I had before. Still, for Ramona’s sake, I hoped that Em managed to fix the hub thing sooner rather than later.