CONTRIBUTION: Earthlings

Inspired by Another Night on Mars by the Maine

            Growing up, Rhys would persistently wet the bed. He didn’t do it on purpose, and it’s not something he likes to admit, but it happened and he has made peace with it. One summer, his mother told him to stop wetting the bed or he would have to sleep on the floor. He slept on the fuzzy green rug next to his bed, and woke up with his cookie monster pjs nice and dry. Rhys hasn’t slept in a bed since.

Rhys doesn’t like change. If everything stayed the same, if his life didn’t ebb and flow with the passage of time, then nothing bad could ever happen. His doctor didn’t like that.

“Rhys, do you think something is wrong with you?” Dr. Johan asked him during his first of many biweekly appointments.

“No.” Rhys replied, avoiding the doctor’s narrowing eyes.

“Some people have trouble understanding and communicating their emotions. Do you have trouble with that?” Dr. Johan looked up from her clipboard.

“No.”

“Hm. Well I think that’s all the time we have for today. Do you have any questions?”

“No.” Rhys’ eyes filled with tears, but he couldn’t place why. His leg bounced up and down, up and down. Dr. Johan scribbled something down on her clipboard.

“Nancy will help you set up your next appointment. See you then.”

Rhys didn’t like Nancy. She looked at him like he was a specimen being prepped for examination under the microscope. Rhys stood and stretched his hand out for the doorknob, but paused for a split second.

“Yes? Everything okay?” She asked. Rhys had his back to her, but the sniffles gave him away.

“Is it my fault?” A single tear ran down. Dr. Johan sighed.

“No, Rhys. It’s the way your brain was formed. You did nothing wrong.”

Rhys didn’t believe her. He left the doctor’s office, passed by the front desk where Nancy was picking at her nails, and sank back down into the navy chairs that lined the walls of Dr. Johan’s office. He scratched his arms as his mother scheduled his next appointment.

Rhys was 11 then. He’d always wondered why no one noticed sooner. He’d think back to his childhood, the bullying, the lack of concern his teachers showed him. But sometimes it was too much for him to bear, and he had to sit and swallow it down like the pills he takes every morning.

Rhys didn’t have many friends. But he had Maverick, who was gentler, kinder than anyone else had been to him. Maverick saw him for who he was, not what his disorders made him. Rhys admired him for that.

Maverick was driving Rhys home. They had stayed after school for an awards presentation. Rhys fiddled with the hem of his shirt as Maverick sang along to the radio, which was playing Rhys’ least favorite station.

“Do you want to stop for some ice cream? I need some sugar.” Maverick said as he turned the radio down. Rhys hated ice cream. The cold against his teeth stung.

“I don’t have any money.” Rhys replied, and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. Maverick’s AC was broken.

“I’ll pay. My treat. Just promise you’ll get something.”

Rhys nodded, regretting it immediately, but Maverick had already changed lanes and missed their exit.

“Can I have two vanilla ice cream cones, please?” Maverick said into the drive-thru. The total came out to be $2.16, Rhys quickly calculating before the worker could respond. They pulled forward, Maverick paid, and Rhys held the sticky sweet cones as they drove back down the street. Maverick parked and took his cone from Rhys, who stared down at his lap.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t want vanilla?” Maverick said, noticing Rhys’ apprehension.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Rhys replied. Maverick gave him a look, which Rhys didn’t notice, as he was too busy wiping the melted ice cream off his wrist.

“Hey. You ok? You can talk to me, you know.” Maverick pulled a leg up to his chest and settled into the car, turning to face Rhys.

Rhys paused. He didn’t have the words to express what he’d been feeling lately. It was hard enough thinking about them, let alone speaking them aloud. After a moment, he spoke.

“Do you ever feel like an alien?”

“What do you mean?” Maverick asked, and Rhys winced at the sound of Maverick crunching the cone between his teeth. The tag on the inside of his shirt itched, and Rhys closed his eyes.

“I just don’t think I belong here. Like I’m a martian in disguise. I’m not supposed to be on Earth.” Rhys said, and his eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh. Well, if you’re a martian, then what’s another night on mars? Anywhere is home with you.”

Rhys mulled this over. Tears streamed down his cheeks, salty and getting into his mouth. Rhys rubbed his lips with the back of his hand.

“Look, Rhys. I know you don’t think you’re a real person, sitting here in my car, getting ice cream all over my passenger seat,” Maverick said as Rhys half-smiled. “But I know something you don’t. That Earth is full of aliens hiding inside human bodies, and we’re all martians in our own ways. You’re no different than anyone else. Rhys, you’re not alone.”

Rhys looked Maverick in the eye, something he almost never does, and smiled as he nodded. A simple gesture. A silent reply of gratitude and comradery.

After they finished their ice cream, Maverick turned the radio back to the station, and sang loudly to some popular song that Rhys didn’t know. But the off-key sing-yelling that Maverick was producing didn’t seem to bother him as much as it used to. Now, it just seemed like Rhys was coming home after a trip amongst the stars, and he was preparing himself to land.

Contributed by Olivia Ellisor, Literature