Sandra didn’t ask me anything about what I learned from the Gender Equality Resource Center. I thought Oscar had been right: she didn’t like to think too hard about her own identity. Very few people do. I let her keep whatever she didn’t want to think about to herself.
“Are you planning on actually doing anything for Halloween?” She asked me the next morning.
“No,” I said, “I was going to pass it like every other night. I don’t typically celebrate holidays.”
“Raymond is having a party,” She said, “at his house.”
“Are you inviting me?” I asked.
“He wants to meet you.”
“Very well,” I said, “I’ll go, assuming you can get me there. I don’t know where it is.”
And that Saturday, she picked me up in the same medium-sized sedan that had carried us from Area 51 to San Francisco over a month before. When I got into the passenger side, tucking my ears down flat under the door, I saw that Sandra was dressed in a costume. She was dressed in something tight and black. There was a decorative belt around her waist and a black whip curled on her hip. She dumped a small backpack, also black, into my lap and laid a black mask with protruding feline ears on top.
“Sorry,” she said, “I left late. Do you mind?” Without waiting for a response, she pulled out and sped away from the university.
“Not at all,” I said anyway. “Should I have worn a costume?”
“No,” She said, “they aren’t mandatory.”
“Oh. Good.”
“You’re already going to have the most interesting costume anyway, being an alien and all.”
I flicked an ear at her, which Sandra knew by then was my equivalent of a laugh. She smiled.
“In all seriousness, if this isn’t your scene, don’t worry. I’ll drive you back to campus whenever you want. Consider this one of your human experiences to catalog.”
“I think I’ll enjoy this,” I said, “I like socializing. Though I won’t be drinking alcohol, obviously.”
“Somebody needs to stay sober. It’ll be you and me and the designated drivers.”
We drove away from the city to a neighborhood in the hills nearby. The houses grew further apart, bigger, more stately, but also more uniform. Sandra parked behind one of the many cars on the street and led me to a house that was glowing. There were fake graves on the ground, complete with reaching skeletal hands – human hands stretching out as if to grab and pull me down.
I have decided that the collective human fantasy, their collective story, is this: hunt and be hunted. The graves, the skeletal arms reaching out, the idea of dead humans reaching out to hunt for the living, made sense to me in that context. For a species that pushed death away so forcefully, humans were oddly obsessed with it.
Sandra pulled her mask on. It gave her head a feline outline, I realized. She pulled her ponytail through a hole in the back of the mask and let out a sigh.
“I hope the backyard is set up,” she said, “all this damn spandex is too hot wear inside.”
I was about to ask why she was wearing it and if it was that uncomfortable when the door opened. On the other side was a human man dressed in a purple suit, of all things. He had slicked his hair back from his face. He smiled widely at Sandra, who smiled back without teeth.
“There you are,” He said.
“Here we are,” Sandra stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek. This was Raymond, I guessed, which Sandra confirmed a moment later by saying. “Raymond, this is Acharya, my boss.”
“Hello,” I said, “the stars are bright tonight.”
Raymond looked up at the sky, where no stars were visible because of light pollution.
“It’s a traditional greeting on my home planet,” I explained. “Not a literal statement.”
“Well,” he said, “it’s nice to meet you.” I expected a handshake, but he didn’t offer one. “Come in,” he said.
Sandra threw me a smile as Raymond took her hand and led her in. I followed behind, more than a little curious to see how she acted around her romantic partner instead of work colleagues.
“There’s music in the living room and drinks in the kitchen,” Raymond said as he showed us around the house. “And games in the dining room. Make yourself at home.” He picked up a can and passed it to Sandra, then handed one to me as well without asking. It was alcoholic, of course. “Everyone is outside right now. I asked people to bring pumpkins for carving if they wanted to. We’re doing a little contest.”
“You don’t eat pumpkins?” I asked. I had seen them stacked outside of grocery stores all month along with a whole host of other strange fruits. I had assumed they were a fall staple.
Raymond whipped around to look at me, apparently lost for words. Sandra said, “the ones we carve aren’t good for eating except the seeds. They’re supposed to frighten away wandering souls during the night so they don’t come into your house.”
“Ah, I see,” I said.
“Plus, they make great fertilizer,” A human woman whose face was painted to look like a skull said. “After they start going mushy.”
“Do you want mine?” Sandra asked her.
“No thanks: I have three.” She turned to me and smiled a double smile, teeth within painted teeth. “Nice to meet you, Dron.”
“Acharya, please,” I said, “Dron is a title. Good meeting. What’s your name?”
“Ashe,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Ashe.”
Raymond broke into the introductions. “So, Acharya, how do you like Earth so far?”
“I like it,” I lied. “It’s refreshing to survey a planet that has well-established communications networks and university systems. Usually, global communication comes after space exploration.”
“That’s fascinating,” Ashe said. “So you’ve surveyed other planets?”
“Yes. Earth is the sixteenth planet I’ve surveyed on my own.”
“And before that, you went with a mentor,” She guessed.
“Yes,” I swiveled an ear toward her and kept it there.
“I didn’t realize you’d done that many,” Sandra said. “How long does it take?”
“Between one year and five, depending on the planet.” I didn’t want to keep talking about my work, so I turned my attention toward Raymond. “Thank you for inviting me to the party. I appreciate you opening your home for a celebration.”
“Eh, it’s my parents’ house, but you’re welcome.” He shrugged.
“Sandra mentioned you work for a hospital,” I said, “what do you do?”
“I’m a systems manager. I oversee the technical and IT staff and keep things running smoothly.” He said it like it wasn’t worth talking about, which maybe it wasn’t. It wasn’t exactly the kind of work I found interesting.
“For a hospital?” Ashe asked him, “last I heard, you were in an office somewhere.”
“Yes, well, this was a better offer. Except for the hours.”
Sandra grimaced beneath her mask. She was standing close to Raymond, an arm looped around his waist. It was both casual and possessive.
“I’ll get more time once I’m established there,” Raymond gave her a squeeze. “Then I’ll have more time to spend with my girlfriend.”
“And play video games,” Ashe said.
Raymond laughed, “That too.”
The doorbell chimed. Raymond looked back at it, but Ashe was already moving.
“I’ve got it,” she scooped up a bowl in the shape of a pumpkin filled with candy. A moment later, the door opened, and I heard several children exclaim.
“Trick or Treat!” They all exclaimed.
“Hello,” Ashe cooed. “What lovely costumes! How’s your Halloween going?”
“Is she on trick-or-treater duty?” Sandra asked Raymond.
“Yes,” He said, “she’s welcome to it.”
“I’m going to go look outside,” I said, eager to get out of the house and see the rest of the humans here. “Say hello to everyone else.”
“Okay, we’ll be out in a bit,” Sandra said.
I put down my still-unopened can of alcohol back in line with all the others and headed outside.
I passed a very pleasant two hours learning all about jack-o-lanterns and how to carve them with several of Raymond’s slightly drunk neighbors. There was laughing and candy and someone threw a handful of pumpkin guts at one point, but it was all in good fun. I also learned that, contrary to what Sandra had told me, you could eat the pumpkins: they just weren’t very tasty because they had been bred for color and shape over flavor.
Sandra found me helping arrange the pumpkins in the front yard, chatting about holiday parties and haunted houses with a group of trick-or-treaters and their parents. The adults were curious and a little put off by me, but the children only cared about sharing stories.
“Archarya,” she said, “how’re you holding up?”
I waved goodbye to the children as Ashe and her diminishing bowl of candy beckoned them over. “I’m having a good time,” I said.
“Good. Great.” She sounded less animated than usual.
I turned to look at her properly and saw she had a can of beer in one hand. “Are you intoxicated?”
She gave me a fuzzy sort of smile, “I’ve had a couple drinks.”
“Weren’t you planning on driving back to campus tonight?” I asked.
“Yeah. Maybe I still will. I have a couple hours to sober up and plenty of food in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you think that’s a good idea.”
She took a quick step toward me and seized my hand from my side. “Come inside and play a game with Raymond and I.”
It was not a question, so I let her lead me back into the house where the humans were eating and shaking off the nightime chill. They were growing drunker and louder. I ended up playing a single round of a card game, and then Raymond disrupted all the games by turning the volume of the music in the next room up until it made my eardrums vibrate.
The guests didn’t look very happy with the volume either, but I was the only one that covered my ears and cringed. As Raymond yanked Sandra into the living room, I retreated to the front door, meaning to duck outside where it was quiet and find my ear protection. Instead, Ashe was in the hallway, filling the empty candy bowl with cans and wrappers. She saw I was covering my ears, and beckoned me up the stairs.
It was quieter up there, thankfully. Ashe sat down at the top of the stairs, and I sat down beside her.
After a moment of silence, she said, “Do you need to stay here overnight?”
“Maybe,” I shook my ears out. “unless someone is still sober and is headed to back to Berkeley.”
“You can take the spare room, if you want. I think Sandra would appreciate it.”
I didn’t think she had the authority to extend the invite, and I was about to ask when she spoke again.
“I’m Raymond’s sister,” She explained. “This is our parent’s third house. They’re letting us live here until we can put a down payment on our own place.”
“I didn’t realize you were related,” I said.
“I didn’t want to dress up as a DC character, so I understand the confusion.”
“Ah, the comic books. I don’t know them well enough to recognize the costumes.”
“Raymond is Joker, Sandra is Cat Woman,” Ashe was staring down the stairs, determined not to look at me. “He wanted her to be Harley Quinn, but she put her foot down… she needs to do that more.”
I didn’t like where this was headed, so I didn’t respond. The music was making the stairs vibrate.
“I have another question,” She said after a few minutes. “It’s about your work. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“When civilizations enter the space age, do people’s lives get better?”
“Yes,” I said, “once goods and people really begin to be exchanged, things tend to get better. Transports and cargo ships are always looking for new workers. There are a thousand worlds that happily open their doors to newcomers. And there are plenty of pirate crews who want to scoop up thieves and hackers from planets. The universe has a way of keeping itself in balance.”
“I wish I had your optimism.”
I met her eyes. “It’s not optimism. I’ve seen it happen.”
“And this?” She gestured down to the living room, where the music was being forcefully reigned in by someone, hopefully Sandra. Hopefully she was still sober enough to make that kind of decision. “Have you seen this too?”
“Yes,” I lied. “I have.”
I went back down when the music had quieted and spoke to the guests for a little longer. By then, I had noticed that whenever Sandra’s hand was empty, Raymond would fill it with a beer for her, then take one for himself. I knew it was unlikely to kill her, but I wouldn’t help the thought, “he’s poisoning her.” But she wasn’t refusing the drinks: on the contrary, she was smiling at him, laughing. The cat-eared mask was discarded somewhere and her dark hair had come loose.
After another hour, most of the guests had left, and Ashe showed me the spare room, and I made myself as comfortable as I could on the bed among the storage boxes and extra chairs. At one point, just before midnight, I heard Sandra laugh in the hallway. A few moment later, someone tried the door to the spare room, but I had locked it.
“Archie?” Sandra’s voice was slurred.
I opened it the door a crack. She was visibly swaying now, very drunk indeed. I needed to learn more about humans’ alcohol tolerance. “Hi,” I said, “I’m comfortable here; don’t worry. Ashe said she would take me to the train station in the morning.”
It was like she didn’t hear me. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I promised to take you back home, but…” she trailed off.
“It’s okay,” I said, “I’ve been stranded worse places.”
That didn’t seem to help.
“Why don’t you drink some water and go to bed?” I suggested, “I think Raymond is waiting for you.”
She nodded, then said, “I don’t want to sleep in there.”
Oh, I did not want this to be complicated. And, really, it wasn’t. I had a very drunk friend, a poisoned friend, who wasn’t going to lie to me, and a perfectly good room I had no real attachment to.
“Alright,” I said, “lets get you settled in here, and I’ll get you some water.”
Sandra laid down on the bed, sprawled out on her back, and I ventured down the hallway. Through one partly-open door, I saw Raymond sprawled out in a similar state, snoring loudly. The other lighted doorway was Ashe’s room, I assumed. I knocked.
Ashe had taken most of her make up off and the elaborate costume dress was gone. She looked me up and down. “What? I can’t imagine you’re here to use my bed.”
“No,” I said, “Sandra is passed out in the spare room. Is there anything I should do? Aside from let her sleep?”
Her face softened a fraction, “I can help—” She started, then said, “No, actually. You’ve got it. Lay her on her side, not her back, and here, take this.” She handed me a plastic trash can with a bag in it. “She might throw up the beer.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
“Not your first time caring for a sick friend?”
“No,” I said, “I’ve seen far worse poisons than alcohol work on someone.”
“Good. Thank you. She needs it.” She threw a look towards Raymond’s door. “I’ll check on him.”
I didn’t ask her any of the thousand questions I wanted to: they were all so miniscule in scope. I wanted to know how long this had been going on, how many times it had happened before. I wanted to ask, “Why don’t you like your brother? Why do you want to keep Sandra away from him? Is there something I am missing here?”
But, against my instincts as an investigator and a solitary species, I returned to the spare bedroom, rolled Sandra onto her side, and propped her up with pillows, and sat down cross-legged beside her. I didn’t sleep that Halloween night. Later, multiple humans would tell me that it was an honorable thing to do: staying up the whole night . It was a vigil of sorts over the border between the living world and the dead. Sandra stayed firmly on the living side and, as far as I could tell, nothing passed the other way either.
Which was for the best, really, because I hadn’t believed in ghosts since I left Chint.
This story was previously published on Archive of Our Own, where the story is being published in addition to the blog. To read more, follow me here or on AO3 or Tumblr
