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I’m spread across the floor of the Hail Mary on my back, staring at the ceiling and allowing my eyes to focus and unfocus at random. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been laying here. Some may say I’m displaying concerning mental health symptoms, I would argue I’m doing it because I spent an unholy amount of time hunched over the too-bright screen of my laptop cataloguing the available substances in the lab and sorting them by how potentially edible they are. Rocky would most likely conclude it’s both. Speaking of, Rocky slides into view in what I assume is an attempt to loom over me, which is only so achievable in his glorified hamster ball.
“Grace is unwell.”
“I’m fine, Rock. Just having some floor time. S’good for me.”
“Had floor time for past nine days. Benefits appear dubious.”
I do a poor job of keeping the agitation out of my voice when I respond, “Well floor time is the option when there's nothing else to do.” It’s a blatant lie when the piracy collection to end all piracy collections sits right at my fingertips, but movie marathons and Wikipedia rabbit holes pale in comparison to actually constructive tangible projects. I’m itching for something to do.
“Could eat. You haven't eaten today. Because it is taumoeba day, question?”
Ugh, taumoeba day. The food situation isn’t in dire straits yet, but we’re trying to incorporate taumoeba into my diet while I’m still healthy enough so my body can get used to processing it. Keyword; trying. The stuff is nasty, it's like trying to eat those containers of slime that my students would try to sneak into class. My appetite has been spotty at best in recent history, and knowing my meal will have to be partially supplemented with middle school contraband goop completely kills it. I can't exactly express my frustration in the way I'd like to, either. We’ve both gotten a lot of mileage out of the introduction of “dramatic” to our shared vocabulary, but something tells me Rocky won’t accept the dramatics excuse if he hears me say I’d literally rather keel over and die than put one more spoonful of that crap in my mouth. Of course I don't really mean it, but it doesn't stop me from feeling that way.
I settle for something less potentially upsetting and mumble out, “I'm just not feeling too hot today, okay?”
“Grace say that more and more often…” his carapace dips low as he warbles.
Oh, jeez. As much as I’ve reassured him that I don’t regret my decision to turn around for one second, I know he’s constantly thinking about it, especially when I’m in a bad mood.
I sigh, I hate making him worry like this. “I'm sorry, Rocky, I'm just in a bit of a funk right now. It'll pass, that’s just the ebb and flow of all this.”
Rocky shuffles in place, unconvinced. “Grace is sure?”
“Of course I am pal, why wouldn't I be? it's like a slumber party every day with you.”
“No understand word.”
“Slumber party? It's a- ooh wait hold on, I’m very interested to see what you think of this!” We've been delving into Eridian culture more recently; I’m already quite accustomed to their sleeping habits and Rocky’s been explaining how important the communal aspect of society is to Eridians, so I’m wondering how the concept of a sleepover will play into that. I sit up with renewed energy, always ready for an impromptu teaching moment.
“Slumber parties are also called ‘sleep-overs’, and ‘slumber' is another word for sleeping which should be an easy translation. Anyways, sleepovers are an event typically for children where they visit a friend’s house to spend the night. They hang out, watch movies, play games and all sleep in the same room.” The back of my mind provides me with snippets of my kids rushing out to their friends at final bell, loudly proclaiming how great their sleepover was gonna be. I always loved how excited they’d get, it never failed to bring a smile to my face. Even now, the pang in my heart isn’t enough to stop it from forming.
“Similar to Eridian family clusters visiting, is good bonding opportunity to watch sleeping younglings together. How this different from typical family visits, question?”
“Well the only parents present are the ones hosting, the rest drop their kids off and come back to pick ‘em back up in the morning.”
Rocky lets out an alarmed chirp, “Understand human sleeping culture different from Eridians, but still sounds dangerous!”
In all honesty he’s got a point, even though sleeping isn’t dangerous it’s a wonder we let swathes of kids, tweens and teens be largely unsupervised overnight. But hey, we gotta make ill-fated childhood memories somehow. “The hosting parents tend to stay in a different part of the house to give kids some space, but they’re always available to help. Besides, it’s not uncommon for some kids to get upset or scared over sleeping away from home and call their parents to be picked up early.”
“Grace have sleepovers when young, question?”
My mouth is already shaping the word ‘no’ when I'm provided with some rapid fire memories of sleeping bags, hushed giggling and cowering during a pillow fight. Well, would you look at that! It’s an admittedly sad relief that my childhood social life did not match with adulthood! “Yeah, actually, I think I went to a couple… huh.”
“What you remember, question?”
“Nothing too important, I didn’t mention it earlier but sleepovers tend to be split into the human genders we talked about awhile ago. They’re usually all-boys or all-girls, but the ones I’m remembering were co-ed, which means both boys and girls.”
I say that, but I’m pretty certain I was the only thing making those sleepovers co-ed, those flashes of memories were fairly glittery…
(“Pleeeease???” My classmate pleads while I try to look as polite as possible in front of her parents. Her dad sizes me up and looks over to his wife. They share a knowing glance and shrug in approval.)
Yeah. In hindsight they weren't entirely wrong, but I maintain the right to still be irked over it. Rocky’s gotten pretty good at noticing when I’m spacing out from remembering something and makes a couple whistling sounds to catch my attention.
“You mentioned games. Explain slumber games.”
“Right! Well, there’s pillow fights, spin the bottle, truth or dare-”
“Any slumber games we can play, question?”
It’s always a bright spot when we find another game we can both play, even if Rocky has one heck of a competitive streak. Our respective atmospheres only leave one viable option, but I’m honestly a little relieved, I do not feel like explaining spin the bottle to him. “We can really only play truth or dare since the other two require contact, but I think you’ll like it!”
“Excite! Explain truth dare!”
“It’s like the quintessential slumber party game. Everybody gets in a group and takes turns asking each other ‘truth’ or 'dare’. If you pick truth, you have to answer a question honestly and If you pick dare you have to complete some sort of task or physical challenge.”
“Truth questions different from typical subjects we ask each other about, question?”
“I would say so. Players usually take the chance to ask embarrassing questions, things you wouldn't typically admit, and almost always asking if you like someone…” I can't help but grumble out that last part, greeted by an even less pleasant memory of being surrounded by girls asking the same thing and refusing to believe my red face was due to the embarrassment of the question, not that I was lying.
(“Oh give it up, Ryland! If it’s a boy we promise not to tell anyone!”
“It’s not a boy, it’s not anyone you guys I’m serious I’m telling the truth!!”)
I shudder and hold up a hand before Rocky can ask me about it. “Essentially the whole game is an opportunity to make your friends do or say whatever silly things you can think of, got it?.” Rocky hums affirmatively, wiggling his claws the way he does when he's calculating. Ominous.
“Yes, understand. How you win truth dare, question?”
“Eh, this isn’t really a game with winning, you just kinda take turns until everyone gets tired of it and moves on to something else. Though, in some games you can introduce a forfeit- a consequence if you refuse a truth-slash-dare.” Rocky’s excitement deflates just slightly at the prospect of not being able to gloat another victory over me, but he perks back up soon enough.
“We play now, question?” Boy, he's insistent today, but I can’t really blame him. I myself am starting to get excited over finally having something to do, and all this talk of slumber parties has got me in the mood to create one to the best of my ability. Besides, who could say no to him when he’s bouncing in place like that?
“You know what? I think I wanna set something up and then we can play.”
-
I sit under the pillow fort I've hastily constructed (thank you extra bedding) against one of Rocky's lower-reaching barriers, wrapped in my quilt with the comfiest clothes I could find. I even brought the Mary's lights to a dim setting. All told I’m pretty pleased with my little setup, maybe I’ll keep it up after our game.
“Okay. Rocky, truth or dare?”
“Rocky pick… dare.”
No surprise there. We ask each other so many questions already, he’s probably more interested to see what a dare entails, which I’m happy to give an example of. It also gives me a chance to test something I've been curious about: for weighing nearly 400 pounds you wouldn't know it by the way Rocky scuttles around, I'm wondering if he’s still capable of balancing that weight on fewer claws. “I dare you… to do a handstand!”
“What is hand stand, question?”
“Oh, right. Well, if I were to do a handstand I’d be supporting and balancing my vertical weight on the palms of my hands as opposed to the soles of my feet when I usually stand kind, of like-” the quilt sloughs off as I move to all fours, barely raising one of my legs before Rocky starts panicking.
“No no no! Grace no stand on hands Grace too unstable!”
“Ah, don’t you worry, I know a handstand is above my skill level, and certainly not in this skirt. I’m just showing how you’d kick off into one.” Rocky calms once I’ve planted myself back on the floor, reaching for the quilt again. “ Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin my awesome pillow fort.”
“Sarcasm.”
“Excuse you! As far as you know this is a top notch fort! (mental note:do not let Rocky watch any movies with sleepover scenes) “Anyways, you get the idea. I want you to try balancing vertically on just two claws, think you’re up for the challenge?”
“Can. Rocky good at moving unlike Grace.” I roll my eyes as Rocky backs up the siding of his tube to get a better angle and pushes off the wall, his legs angled toward the ceiling of the tube tucked in and the two grounded claws in a wide stance. He keeps the pose for a few seconds, wobbling slightly and taking a couple mini steps to keep balance before needing to put a third leg back down and leaning back to scuttle down to the floor again.
Rocky whirs thoughtfully, “Trickier than I expected. Fun to try.”
“You did pretty well, all things considered! I'm assuming you don't have much of a need for balance back home, right?”
“Correct, very little need for more than three limbs up at a time. Is sometimes used in performances.”
“You'll have to take me sometime,” I joke, but it feels sour on my tongue, that awful little voice in the back of my head warning me about making promises I can't keep. No time for doom and gloom right now, though, that can wait until the sleep portion of the sleepover.
“Okay, it's my turn now so you'll ask me truth or dare.”
“Grace, truth dare, question?”
Much like Rocky I’m incredibly curious as to what kind of challenges he might have in mind, though I can hazard a guess that none of them will be very physical. “Dare.”
“Rocky dare Grace teach Rocky English swear word.”
Oh I've made a horrible mistake, haven't I?
I have to choose which word I give him carefully as I’ll never be able to unhear him say it. I’m certain I’ve been subjected to the full gamut of Eridian swearing, but at least I had maintained blissful ignorance of their definitions. Call me a prude but what can I say, old habits die hard. Now, what to teach him… I’ll go with something on the milder side, something I can stand to listen to repeatedly. Maybe I can make this less fun by turning it into a lesson, though etymology isn’t exactly my strong suit.
“Okay, fine. You can have… ‘ass’. Originally, the word was a name for a specific animal, and when used as a swear was still referring to said creature. In modern times, due to changes in dialect and pronunciation of a similar word, it’s more commonly used to refer to a person’s posterior, rear-end, or any other nicer word for butt.” I very elegantly gesture to the body part in question. “Along with just calling someone an ass it can be used as a suffix, like if I were to call a certain five-legged roommate of mine a dumbass. Or a jackass, to return to its roots.”
In true slumber party fashion Rocky giggles himself silly at my language, wholly unaffected at my attempt to bore him. “Good good good. Eridian equivalent is ♩♩♩♩.” Yep, I’ve definitely heard that sound before. “Enter word into thinking machine.”
“I thought we were trying to wean me off of needing the laptop to understand you?”
“Is very important translation. Rocky dare Grace input translation.”
Reluctantly I abandon the comfort of my pillow fort to include the new word. “Alright, alright. And for the record, I have to have my turn before you can dare me again.” I hit enter and near immediately I’m greeted with an “ass” from the translator’s voice, followed by more of Rocky’s laughter. I’d like to say I remained unimpressed by wonderful displays of maturity in front of me, but I’m betrayed by the smile pulling at my lips as I sit back down.
“Okay Rocks, truth or dare?”
Rocky takes a moment to answer, wiggling his claws in thought before settling on his answer.“I pick truth.”
It seems we’re about to discover what makes a truth or dare question so different. Though truthfully (ha!), the big difference might just be that I’m the one asking the question, as Rocky has very few qualms about asking questions I might find embarrassing. “Okayyy… Rocky, have you ever… kept a secret from Adrian?” He stiffens at the question and I’m suddenly wondering if I asked too juicy a question, though thankfully it seems like he was just preparing to answer, clicking a claw in thought.
“...Once.” He huffs his vents at my scandalized ‘oooh’. “Very very very long time ago in early courting stages with Adrian, Rocky sing long beautiful phrase to Adrian. Adrian very impressed, ask if Rocky create phrase, and Rocky say yes…” Rocky’s voice wavers a bit in shame, a claw picking at a loose fiber on his shirt. “...Is no true. I hear phrase from poetry Eridian on away trip. Grace must promise NEVER tell Adrian this.”
“Don't you worry, your secret's safe with me, pal.” I lean in to nudge the barrier with my elbow, but a sudden growl in my stomach causes Rocky to recoil and honk in disgust. Of all the noises this squishy human body of mine makes, he really hates stomach noises a lot- topped only by the time I subjected him to the sound of puking after the first taumoeba taste test. I offer a sheepish smile as Rocky regains his composure.
“Rocky turn to dare Grace.”
“Hang on, I’m the one who decides if I do a dare!”
“Fine. Grace, truth dare, question?”
Well, I suppose he can learn another mild swear. “Dare.”
“Rocky dare Grace do stand on hands.”
“What!?” After he freaked out when I so much as threatened to do one? What’s his angle here?
“Forfeit is eat taumoeba that Grace skipped today.”
Oh, the little scamp! He seems so proud of his scheme I won’t even tell him that you’re supposed to set up the forfeit beforehand.
“Ohoho, well played good sir!” I had left out the food aspect from my explanation out of politeness, but it’s like he’s got a knack for sleepover shenanigans! I’ve heard from my kids that making your friends eat gross things is very en vogue for sleepovers, and apparently also during lunch period.
Seeing as I’d rather not ruin our fun with a bout of vomiting I opt for something easy to sneak the taumoeba into. There’s still an extra supply of soft textured meals meant for the early post-coma days (don’t think about it), so I grab one and mix half of it with taumoeba, saving the rest for next time. Hooray. The texture is hidden more easily, but I can still tell there’s something wrong with it. Not pleasant, but not wholly inedible either. I power through, fighting off gagging, and Rocky gives me congratulatory jazz hands that only feel a little condescending.
“Back to me to ask; truth or dare, Rocks?”
“Rocky pick dare.”
If truth or dare was a game you could win, Rocky would be in the lead. He's taken full advantage of the ‘make your friends do your bidding’ aspect, so much so that I might have to limit how much we play if he goes mad with power. As for a dare, I think I have an idea taking from the other aspect of this game. It's a low blow for sure, but come on, he's mopping the floor with me! Rocky may be more competitive but that doesn’t mean I’m not competitive at all. The trick is thinking what could possibly embarrass someone as proud as Rocky….
“Rocky, I dare you… to act like a baby Eridian!’
…
“Grace want Rocky to WHAT question!?”
“Oh I believe you heard me, but I suppose I can clarify; I'm daring you to pretend like you're a baby Eridian and behave as one…unless you're too scared to, that is.” Boy does that accusation rile him up, honking in offense at me.
“Rocky NOT scared, statement! I will complete stupid stupid stupid Grace dare!!”
Rocky pauses, psyching himself up and grumbling out an ‘ass’ under his breath (under his vents?) at me. Seemingly ready he crouches his legs and lowers his carapace close to the floor, taking tiny wobbly steps and making very faint chirping sounds, twitching occasionally like a baby bird would.
Even though we’re the only beings here for lightyears and I have no reference for how baby Eridians actually behave, I find myself quite charmed. If humans can think of any baby animal on earth as adorable, who's to say that stops with aliens? Though I have to bite my lip to stop myself from actually cooing at him, lest he turn the tables on me. I may find Rocky’s performance adorable but no one will be having a good time if I have to act like a baby. I cringe internally at the thought.
Almost as soon as he started Rocky jumps back up, huffing and puffing from his vents and shouting, “ROCKY DONE NOW NO MORE PLAY STUPID ASS ♫♩♩♪♪♫♩ GAME!!”
For all my effort to keep my composure before I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. Something about Rocky getting this upset over truth or dare does me completely in. I’m clutching my stomach, tears are rolling down my face, the works. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this hard, even on earth.
Rocky stops his rampage to watch me, the hissing of his agitated vents slowing down. He seems strangely calm, no joining in the laughter or yelling at me for laughing at him or even alarm over my wheezing. If I didn’t know any better and if I wasn’t trying to desperately regain control over my lungs, I’d say that Rocky looks pretty satisfied with himself, waiting for me to settle down before speaking again.
“Done with truth dare, we now play other games, question?”
“Didn’t I mention they require contact?”
“Can make work. Explain bottle spin.”
“Rocky I love you but I am not kissing you.”
“Game utilizes mouth pressing!? Disgust!!”