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“What color is Grace, question?”
The question took me off guard, and I looked up from my work to stare at Rocky, tilting my head in confusion.
“Huh?”
“What color is Grace, question?” Rocky repeated, his arms working a mile a minute on his latest ship improvement while his attention seemed wholly focused on me, “Grace see colors, Rocky not see colors. Rocky want to know what color Grace is.”
“I’m… a lot of colors, bud.” I said slowly, “I got blond hair, blue eyes, I’m a white guy, I-“
“No understand words.” Rocky shifted away from his desk, abandoning his project to tap on the xenonite wall separating us, “Explain.”
Explain. As if it was that simple. As if I could just… explain color to an alien that couldn’t see it, couldn’t even conceptualize it. The room was quiet for a few long moments while I tried to think, tried to be creative and clever and come up with a solution to this new problem, and Rocky, bless him, waited patiently until finally I had my lightbulb moment.
“My hair is… yellow.” I started slowly, “Yellow is… it’s the same color as sunlight, how sunlight feels on your skin, er… carapace.” Rocky made an unfamiliar noise, repeating it thrice in a way I now understand meant he wanted me to add it to the language database, which I did, saving the two-syllable tune as ‘yellow’.”
“Want know more about yellow.” Rocky tilted his carapace up in a way that meant he was listening intently, eager to learn, “Same as sun-light. What is, question?”
“Stars don’t just give off warmth, they give off light too.” I explained, moving to sit cross-legged in front of Rocky, Rocky doing the same on his side, sans the crossing of legs, “The intensity and spectrum of light a star gives off depends on its size and type, but Erid and Earth both orbit a G-type main sequence star, also known as a yellow dwarf.”
“Need word.” Rocky prompted.
“Dwarf, uh… mythical creature known for being very small.”
“Understand.” he said, “Earth sun is small, question?”
“Well, compared to other stars, yeah.” I chuckled, “Yeah, it’s pretty small.” Rocky hummed, seeming to accept his answer.
“And Grace hair look like sun-light feel, question?” he asked.
“It’s the same color, at least.” I shrugged, “Yellow is a happy color, so that’s one thing I got going for me.”
“No understand.” Rocky tapped the barrier, annoyed, “Color is light, light no feel emotions.”
“Ah, it’s just humans assigning feelings and meaning to anything and everything.” I laughed, and Rocky made a specific chirp that I’d come to recognize as exasperated amusement.
“Very nonsensical.” he said matter-of-factly, “Ridiculous humans. Silly silly silly.”
“Yeah.” I laughed, “Yeah, we are.”
“Colors have meaning to humans, yellow is… happy color, question?” Rocky asked curiously.
“Yeah.” I smiled, remembering my classroom, my model of the solar system, my daffodil garden, my favorite yellow jacket, “Yellow represents happiness and whimsy, hope and joy and optimism and…”
Clutching my yellow coat close as I shifted in front of Eva. Yellow sunlight streaming through the window as I backed away from her men. Dry yellow grass pressed to my cheek as I begged for my life.
“Cowardice.” my voice was suddenly dry, cracking slightly as I tried to shove the memories away, “It also represents cowardice.”
“Grace, question?” Rocky shifted closer, a hand on the barrier,
“Sorry.” I shook myself out of it, giving a reassuring smile as I cleared my throat, “Uh, yeah, not all the meanings are good. Most colors have good and bad meanings.”
“Understand.” Rocky said, giving me the Eridian equivalent of a side eye, a look that meant I know you got upset just now, but mercifully he didn’t bring it up, “Grace hair is color of joy and sun-light. What about Grace ocular orbs, question? What color, question?”
“Well… a bunch of colors.” I reached up and traced the air around my eyes, recalling how exhausted they’d looked in the mirror that morning, “My sclera is white. White like… clouds.”
“Explain word.”
“White?”
“Other word.”
“Oh, cloud. Clouds are when water takes on a gaseous form and floats in the sky.” I explained, “You know how I love fog? Fog is just a cloud that happens to be on the ground.”
“Understand.” Rocky bounced a little, “Wet and cold like Grace.”
“Yeah.” I snorted, “That’s me, a wet and frigid space blob who leaks like a rain cloud.”
“Rocky glad you agree.” Rocky chirped, “What else is…. ♬ ♫, question? The ♬ ♬ ♫ color.”
“White is…” I thought for a moment, “Snow. Or, you don’t have snow, uh, soft ash. Fire when it burns extremely hot. Human bones. The Hail Mary also has lots of white on it.”
“What ♬ ♫ represent, question?” Rocky asked.
“Purity.” I answered, “It means purity, cleanliness, neutrality. But also emptiness, cold, and sterility.”
“Then why is Hail Mary ♬ ♫, question?” Rocky asked, seeming genuinely confused, “Humans should pick happy color, like yellow.”
“Because white reflects light and heat instead of absorbing it.” I explained, “Helps manage temperatures.”
“Ah, understand understand understand.” Rocky seemed satisfied with that, “Grace say earlier that Grace is ♬ ♫ guy, what mean, question?” I took a minute to recall what he meant before it hit me.
“Oh, I said I was a white guy. That’s just the word for my race.” I explained, “Or, subrace I guess. Humans come in lots of colors, so we divided different skin colors into races and invented racism.”
“No understand word.” Rocky said, and hoo boy, I was not getting into humanity’s ridiculous prejudices right now.
“I’ll explain later, but it’s bad bad bad.” I sighed, and Rocky seemed to accept that.
“Grace ocular orbs ♬ ♫.” he said, “Grace also said other colors. What other colors, question?”
“Eyes, Rock, they’re called eyes, and the most visually appealing part of them is this ring of color here.” I circled the air above my iris, “The iris. It’s responsible for controlling the amount of light that enters the pupil. Unlike the sclera, which is always white unless it's unhealthy, and the pupil which is always black, the iris comes in all sorts of colors unique to every human, each one with its own special pattern and texture.”
“Amaze, amaze, amaze.” and Rocky did genuinely seem amazed, “Rocky want see Grace’s ♪ ♬ ♩. Want to see pattern and texture.”
“You got your crystal thing?” I asked, and Rocky practically scurried off to retrieve it, objects clanging as he tossed them aside searching for where he’d left it. While I waited, I took the time to add in the words ‘iris’, ‘white’, and ‘cloud’ to the database. Rocky didn’t take long, skittering excitedly up to the barrier and lifting the device to my face, crystal already spinning and sending the texture of my eyes to his little pad. I removed my glasses and leaned in to make it easier for him, trying to blink as little as possible and keep my eyes still.
It was… strangely intimate, almost like looking deeply into someone’s eyes, except Rocky didn’t even have a face, let alone eyes. Rocky seemed utterly entranced by the image on the pad, the raised texture of my eyes with all its blood vessels and iris patterns, the bridge of my nose with its freckles only barely visible because of proximity to the crystal, the tip of my cheekbones where I still carried the faintest scar from a biking accident in elementary school. The image blurred and shifted every time my eyes flicked, and after the fifth time it happened Rocky made a low growly noise.
“Grace be still.” he commanded, and I couldn’t quite prevent the heat rising in my cheeks, but I did as he asked, forcing my eyes to be still to the very best of my ability. Luckily Rocky seemed too focused on my eyes to notice my blush, reaching a free hand out to tap over the raised image in a way that set my heart skittering.
“Amaze amaze amaze.” Rocky’s voice was quiet, almost contemplative, “Pretty. Pretty pretty pretty, Grace eyes are marvels, statement.” Alright, so I was definitely full on blushing now, cheeks burning and heart beating embarrassingly fast. This close, I could see the little details of Rocky’s carapace, the bumps and crags and layers of mineral, the colors melding in his stony exterior like the rings of a tree, showing his age and telling a story I couldn’t yet read. I could stare at it for hours and still discover new details, new secrets. No single inch of Rocky was the same.
God I wanted to touch him.
“What color are Grace irises, question?” Rocky asked, drawing me from my admiration.
“Hm? Oh, blue.” I answered him, “Blue like… the ocean. Or the open sky. Most of the world, basically.” Rocky repeated the word in his own language, “♩♩♪♩”, a somber little thing, which seemed very fitting.
“♩♩♪♩.” he sang, “The color of Grace eyes. The color of the world.”
Fuck, Rocky was gonna kill me. Rocky was gonna straight up kill me, I was gonna have a cardiac event because my alien best friend kept unintentionally saying gorgeously sweet things.
“Maybe I’ll make a poet out of you yet.” I teased to hide the butterflies in my stomach, and Rocky gave the Eridian equivalent of an imperious sniff.
“Poetry for poets. Engineering for Rocky.” he said, “What ♩♩♪♩ color mean, question?”
“Blue means sadness.” I said, and Rocky tilted his carapace down for a moment before lifting it again.
“Hm. No like that.”
“Yeah, neither do I.” I chuckled, “But blue also means calm. Stability. Peace, even.”
“Grace not calm. Grace clumsy and jumpy and leaky, Grace panic a lot.” Rocky pointed out, and I flicked the barrier lightly.
“Rude. Fair, but rude.”
“Grace also sad sometimes.” Rocky said, sending an arrow straight through my chest, “But Rocky fix, Rocky always fix. Grace iris color not fitting at all. Grace should have warm color. Happy color, like yellow hair.”
“Well, I don’t control my eye color.” I joked, unable to help my fond smile, “I have my mom’s eyes. Hers were blue, my dad’s were brown. Eye color is passed through genetics.”
“Understand.” Rocky said, and I mentally added ‘genetics’ to the list of topics to discuss in depth with Rocky later, “The middle of eye, the ♫♪, what is color, question?”
“The pupil? The pupil is black.” I said, “Black like outer space, black like the dark, like mystery, death, power, drama, all sorts of things. Black isn’t technically a color, but the absence of color, the absence of light. Without light, black is all humans see. It’s why so many humans are afraid of the dark. In fact, fear of the dark is one of the oldest and most primal fears we have.”
“Fascination.” Rocky said, “Rocky want learn more about human fear soon. But first, explain what ♫♪ do.”
“The pupil lets light into the eye so it can hit the lens and the retina, the tissue that converts light into neural signals to help us see.” I said, already knowing he’d need help with a few key words.
“Many new words.” Rocky confirmed my theory, “But don’t understand. Light makes color, and ♫♪♫♪ is when color not there, but ♫♪ is ♫♪♫♪ despite letting in light. Why light not make ♫♪ colored, question?”
“Because the pupil is just a hole.” I explained, “The light hits the-“
“Holes!” Rocky interrupted, throwing his arms up in frustration, “More holes! Always more holes! Humans particularly known for their holes!”
“Well, this specific hole is shielded by a thin clear layer of collagen and water called the cornea.” I laughed, fondness pulsing in my chest, “Also please never say that to any other human ever, we don’t wanna be known for our holes.”
“Will never meet other human.” Rocky harrumphed, “Only care about Grace.”
“Aww, thanks bud, I’m flattered.” I couldn’t help but grin, touched, “I care about you too.” Rocky wiggled his vents at that, and then made a sound that almost resembled a clearing of the throat, if a throat was made of gravel and broken glass.
“What are little lines in Grace eyes, question?” Rocky changed the subject, pointing to the pad where the faintest outline of blood vessels were visible.
“Blood vessels.” I answered, graciously allowing him his escape from dreaded human emotions, “Like veins, but smaller.”
“Disgust.” Rocky shuddered, “Squishy, fleshy, weak. Eridian veins much superior. Made of sturdy mineral and metal. Less wiggly.”
“Yeah yeah, humans are inferior to the mighty metal rock aliens, I get it.”
“Glad Grace understands.” Rocky made that laughing noise, the adorable one that sounded like baby alligators, “Grace not worry. Rocky protect weak leaky flesh blob.”
“Gee, thanks.” I snorted, trying and failing not to feel warm at that declaration.
“Even when leaky flesh blob is unreasonably long and skinny like predator.” Rocky sounded like he was grinning too.
“How kind of y… huh?” I blinked, “Predator?” Rocky nodded, making a painfully sharp whistling sound that almost sounded like a fire alarm, which I posited to be the name of the predator.
“Is scary predator.” Rocky explained, bobbing up and down, “Creepy. Scary. Contorts limbs. Sharp claws dig into rock, into Eridian. Slinks on five limbs like Eridian, but bends segmented body, makes terrible clicking noise.”
“Oh jeez, that sounds horrific.” I shivered, and Rocky bobbed in agreement.
“Grace resemble this predator.” he said matter-of-factly, which made me rear back in shock.
“What!?” I exclaimed.
“Long thin body. Long thin limbs.” he shifted around, arms waving as if to demonstrate, “Crawls on all four limbs sometimes. Wiggly. Bendy. Bends too far forwards or backwards or side to side. Twists body around, swivels, contorts. Limbs crack and click when stretched. Too tall, too long, too thin. Scary scary scary.”
“I’m… scary?” I asked, a little disheartened, and Rocky made that laughing sound again.
“Was scary at first.” Rocky reassured me, “Then Rocky see Grace not predator. Grace trip on bipedal feet, Grace have no claws, Grace not hiss or bite. Grace not scary.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I chuckled, “Are the other Eridians gonna be alright with me if I look like a predator?”
“They will see Grace not scary.” Rocky gave him a reassuring thumbs down, “And if they not see, Rocky make them see, statement.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I smiled, helplessly fond, and Rocky seemed to perk up in happiness.
“Many thanks.” he said, “Grace much high maintenance. Rocky deserve many many many thanks.”
“Yeah you do.” I laughed, and Rocky bobbed his carapace up and down.
“Rocky want more colors.” he said, “Grace hair is sun-light-yellow, Grace eyes are fog-white and world-blue and empty-♫♪♫♪. What color is Grace blood, question?”
God, this adorable alien was gonna be the death of me.
“Human blood is red.” I leaned over to once more add the words to the database, ‘black’, ‘pupil’, and ‘red’ once Rocky repeated it, “Red is the color of… cooling magma, and sparks, and my face when I blush. The Petrova line is also red.”
“Red.” Rocky repeated, “Explain what red mean.”
“Well, it means passion and lust and romance.” I said, tilting my head as Rocky went very still, “But it also means anger and violence. You give a red rose to someone to indicate your desire for them, but you also wave a red cape at a bull to make it angry enough to charge.”
“No understand words.” Rocky moved a touch closer, resting his hand on the xenonite, “Give red thing to indicate passion and desire. Give red what, question?”
“A rose is a type of flower.” I explained, feeling inexplicably shy all of a sudden, “Humans uh… we love flowers.”
“Rocky see flowers on human screens.” he said, tilting his carapace, “Plant life. Fragile, small, short-lived. They’re weak and they die fast.”
“They are and they do, but hey, the same could be said for humans.” I chuckled, but Rocky’s hiss of displeasure made it clear he didn’t appreciate the joke, “Sorry, sorry, just pointing out a similarity.”
“Humans give flowers to indicate desire, question?” he asked, “Mating proposal, question?”
“Yeah, kinda.” I said, trying to remember details from my brief interest in flower language in college, “But there’s a lot of nuance, because we can never make things easy. Different flowers have different meanings, so you gotta be careful what you give to who. Like, a rose means romance and desire, a sunflower means happiness and friendship, but if you give someone, like, a foxglove or a nightshade, they might think you want them dead. And there’s an entire language of flowers, people make bouquets out of specific flowers to say the things they can't say out loud.”
“So complicated.” Rocky complained, but his voice seemed quiet, contemplative, “So unnecessary.”
“Agree with you there.” I chuckled, “I never had the head for it. Gave a girl a carnation once and she got mad at me. Wild stuff. I’ve found it’s usually best to just ask what a person’s favorite flower is and then give them that.”
“Grace have favorite flower, question?” Rocky asked, and I thought about it for a moment before nodding.
“I like cherry blossoms.” I said, “They’re pretty, and they smell nice, and they represent springtime, fleeting beauty, and renewal. Every spring they fill the world with brilliant pink before dropping from the branches and covering everything with a carpet of soft fragrant petals. It’s beautiful. It… They made me happy.” I felt a pang of grief that I’d never see another cherry blossom, another spring, again, but I quickly shoved it aside, choosing instead to focus on Rocky. The alien was unusually quiet, as if deep in thought, and I quickly found myself uncomfortable with the silence.
“We uh… We also like giving gemstones as gifts.” I offered, and Rocky perked right up, much to my relief.
“Gemstone! Yes! Good!” he exclaimed, “Eridians exchange gemstones too, the sturdiest and strongest ones, or the smoothest ones. Legendary Eridian songmaker ♩♩♪♫♪ built home for mate entirely out of resonating crystal.”
“Oh wow, that’s… that’s insanely romantic.” I sighed a little wistfully. What I wouldn’t give to be loved like that, loved to the point of creation, “Humans usually pick out the prettiest gems, the shiniest and most colorful. The ones that sparkle in the light.”
“What is word, question?”
“Sparkle? It’s when light bounces off a reflective surface, with small glittery flashes of light. Very pleasing to the eye.” I explained, “Humans cut gems specifically to make them more symmetrical, and to make them sparkle more. The bigger and sparklier, the better.”
“Eridians also like big gemstones.” Rocky said, “Make sculptures and adornments. Adrian once give Rocky eating plate made out of ♬♪. Very intimate. Personal. Rocky miss it. Rocky miss Adrian.”
“I bet.” I reached out to pat the barrier, and Rocky mimicked the movement, “We’ll get you back to them, don’t you worry.”
“Rocky not worry.” he huffed, “Rocky never worry. Rocky want know more about humans liking gemstones.”
“Oh we love gemstones, anything shiny really, we’re a bit of a magpie species.” I chuckled, “We even assign certain gemstones to represent certain months. We call them birthstones, and it’s common to gift someone’s unique birthstone to them on the anniversary of their birth.”
“What is Grace birthstone, question?” Rocky asked immediately.
“Tourmaline.” I answered, “I was born on the 29th day of October, I’m a scorpio.”
“No understand word.”
“Humans also assign the stars to our birth dates.” I chuckled, “It’s a spiritual thing, the belief that the stars influence our personalities. I’m in the scorpio category because of when I was born.”
“Nonsensical.” Rocky harrumphed, “Ridiculous. Go back to Grace favorite gemstone. Repeat word.”
“Tourmaline.” I dutifully repeated, grabbing the laptop to pull up pictures, “It comes in nearly every color, but my favorite is the watermelon tourmaline. It’s pink and green, which is the best color combo ever invented.”
“Describe colors.” Rocky commanded, but I didn’t mind his bossiness. It meant he was excited, and it showed in how eagerly he scanned the pictures with his crystal tool.
“Green is the color of vegetation, it represents life and nature, but also jealousy and sickness.” I started, wracking my brain to think of comparisons he might understand, “Green is trees, uranium, the aurora borealis, the color of the planet Adrian, and uh…. Hm, what else is green…”
“Is the color of planet named after mate.” Rocky said with a slight bob, “New favorite. Describe other color.”
“That would be pink, and pink is the color of sunrises.” I said with a slight laugh, “Pink represents love and innocence. Pink is uh… rose quartz, if you have that, cherry blossoms, um… well, my insides are pink-“
“Disgust!”
“And my lips, my lips are pink too.” I pursed said lips playfully, and Rocky tilted his body in consideration.
“Grace mouth flaps the color of sunrise, question?” he asked, “Color of love, innocence, color of favorite flower, question?”
“Uh… yeah?” I said, suddenly feeling very shy, “Uh… guess so. Yeah. My insides too, all… pink.”
“And lips used by humans to show affection, question?”
“Yes.” I said, wondering where this was going.
“Rocky want see.” he said, lifting his crystal scanner, “Present mouth flaps, please.”
“Geez Rock, if you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked.” I can’t help but tease, and Rocky gave an indignant noise.
“Human kiss disgust! Wet and gross! Leave marks and fluids on nice clean xenonite!”
“Oh come on, I only kissed your ball once and it was when I was drunk.” I complained, and Rocky practically vibrated.
“Disgust! Much cleaning!” he grumped, “Now present mouth flaps for examining.”
“Yes sir.” I rolled my eyes, but did as he asked, shifting forward until my lips were a mere inch away from the xenonite wall. Rocky examined them with his scanner, looking closely at the imprint of my mouth on his pad, and I allowed him exactly thirty full seconds of scientific observation before I started getting in my own head a little bit, feeling myself starting to read too much into Rocky’s fixation on my lips, his undivided attention to them. I distracted myself by pulling my lips up into a mischievous smile, and then a scowl, and then puffing my cheeks out, and then sticking my tongue out, and Rocky warbled grumpily but didn’t stop me, so I considered it approval. I made all sorts of expressions, letting Rocky get a good view of everything, teeth and tongue and lips and gums, and though Rocky visibly shuddered in revulsion more than once (which, ouch) he didn’t pull away or stop his examination until a full five minutes had passed.
“Humans are disgust.” Rocky announced, setting his scanner down, “But Rocky put up with it anyway.”
“Gee, thanks.” I said wryly, “And I put up with you despite you being a stinky pile of rocks.”
“Joke is on Grace, Rocky not know word.” he said smugly, and I rolled my eyes.
“You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d have punted your little tuckus back to Erid by now.” he said lightly, and Rocky laughed that baby alligator laugh.
“Grace die without Rocky.” he said confidently.
“Yeah.” I agreed without argument, knowing it was absolutely true, “Yeah I would. But Rocky would die without Grace, so I say we’re even.”
“Hm. Acceptable terms.” Rocky conceded, “Rocky have work to do now. Rocky come to you when is time to sleep.”
“Alright.” I said easily, watching him scurry away with a new pep in his step, clearly inspired by something new, “Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
——
The next morning, I woke to find Rocky nowhere in sight, but saw that one of his little gift tubes had been placed deliberately next to my pillow, waiting for me to wake. Blinking, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I opened it up with a curious hum, only for my breath to catch in my throat as if I’d been choked, my heart going still in my chest for two beats too long before kicking back up again alarmingly fast. I extracted Rocky’s gift with slightly trembling hands, gentle and delicate as if I was handling a newborn baby, cradling it in my hands like a priceless treasure.
Because it was.
Rocky had given me a cluster of cherry blossoms, a glittering bloom carved entirely from a single large gemstone, every detail perfectly rendered from the petals to the sturdy yet delicate branch. It was heavy in my hands, but not overly so, a perfect comforting weight without a flaw in sight, and… and it was made of tourmaline. Not just any tourmaline, but my favorite, the watermelon one I’d told Rocky about, where had he even gotten this? The color shone in the dim light, beautiful pink and green stone forming an elegant gradient, the green branch melting into blush pink at the petals, little dewdrops of darker pink forming the anther and stamen of the blossoms. Rocky must have recruited Mary to help him get the colors right, and tears pricked at my eyes as I thought of how much work this must have taken, even for an engineer as brilliant as Rocky.
He’d made this for me. He’d made this for me, for Ryland Grace, a dumb leaky overdramatic alien meat monster nowhere near as smart as Rocky, nowhere near as charming, and yet he’d worked so hard to craft me my favorite flower out of my favorite stone, every little detail perfect. Fuck, it even had a tiny scorpio symbol carved into the base of the branch, he’d remembered my freaking zodiac sign even though we’d only discussed it for a moment. Rocky thought it was dumb, but I had mentioned it so he clearly thought it was important enough to include.
God, god, I loved that little alien so much. And now with this beautiful gift, remembering Rocky’s curiosity about gift giving and mating proposals, I was beginning to have hope, and hope was the most dangerous emotion there was. I held the blossom up, and it glittered in the light, sparkling with the slightest movement, hundreds of tiny facets cut into the stone specifically to catch the light, to make it glimmer, the stone catching the bland glow of Hail Mary’s interior in a way that almost made it look like sunlight,
I sat with the flower for a long time, tears in my eyes and heart swelling with too many emotions to name, before gently placing it on the mattress beside my pillow, already knowing its sparkle would help lull me to sleep every night from here on out. I also knew that I had some serious brainstorming to do if I wanted to make Rocky a gift as meaningful and gorgeous as this one.
Alright, I thought with a clap of my hands, as if I was still in a classroom, Time to get to work.