Read Online When Aliens Weep by J. K. Accinni - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. K. Accinni
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her.
“No,” she whispered. “I am very much not okay.” She tried to blink her eyes inside their bandages, wetness testifying to her unconscious tears. She reached out her good arm to find the stranger’s remaining hand. She felt a reassuring squeeze from him.
His tone was low, almost a whisper matching hers. “Go ahead say it. You don’t remember either.”
Ginger Mae choked with emotions. “How did you know?”
“Just goes to reason. We seem to be in the same predicament. You’re just a bit luckier than me.”
“Why do you say that?” She wrinkled her nose in puzzlement.
“Well, dear lady. You have both of your hands and probably all of your hair.”
Ginger Mae snorted. “If you can call that lucky .” She leaned in toward his voice. “Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer, she held out her hand to locate his head. She slowly ran her questing fingers over his bald pate, free of shaving stubble, warm and smooth. “You used to have hair. Before you came here . . . ?”
He reached up with his remaining hand to cover hers. He brought their hands down to rest at his side. “Sorry, I guess I’m just not used to it yet.”
“I noticed your head is smooth. Shouldn’t you have stubble if they shaved your hair off?” She had completely misunderstood. “It’s a lot easier to get used to something like that than the blindness caused by these infernal bandages.”
The man released a sigh. “I guess you’re right. It’s just one more hard adjustment at a time where I seem to have no control over anything. That’s not easy for a man who has been so darn independent his whole life.”
“How do you know you’ve been independent? You can’t rememberanything.” She hoped he was wrong and their memory would come back. She had to bank on that or she would just lose it right here, right now.
“It’s just a feeling I have. That’s all. As a matter of fact, I think we should get rid of these damned bandages. I can’t go another second not seeing. And if we're going to figure out how to get out of here, we need to be able to see , damn it.”
Ginger Mae felt the man remove his hand that covered hers. She sensed him working at his bandages.
“They feel like they’re ready to come off, anyway.” She heard the sound of adhesive parting, and the man laughed with a sense of relief.
“It’s okay . . . I can see . The light hurts.” A moment of silence.
“Okay, it’s your turn. I think you need to take yours off, too. Let’s see if you can see anything.”
Ginger Mae raised her hands to her eyes, her bandages already loose. She felt for a slack end she could unravel as she wondered at the new note in the man’s voice. Scratching insistently at a pucker in the bandages, she slowly unwound them and tossed them aside.
Her eyes remained closed, her trepidation getting the best of her. The man found her hand and gave it a squeeze, his voice strange with apprehension. “It’s okay. You can get through this.”
Ginger Mae slowly opened her eyes. The gummy residue of accumulated inactivity failed to obliterate the fact that she could, indeed, see. The light caused her to blink and squint painfully but she felt her eyes would be alright.
“You have beautiful blue eyes.” His statement drew her attention.
She examined the man in front of her. He had a wide, trusting face and fair complexion although muddy and slack. His frame looked muscular and healthy under the circumstances. At the moment, his face had arrayed itself in a demeanor of compassion, of all things.
“What’s the matter? Not what you expected? And for your information, my eyes are brown.”
The man laughed, his face lit up by his effervescent smile. The sound was wonderful to her ears. So human . . .
“My dear, you have the most amazing crystal blue eyes. No one would make a mistake about that.” He laughed again.
“Honestly. I know what color my eyes are. And they’re brown .” The man stopped laughing, his face
“No,” she whispered. “I am very much not okay.” She tried to blink her eyes inside their bandages, wetness testifying to her unconscious tears. She reached out her good arm to find the stranger’s remaining hand. She felt a reassuring squeeze from him.
His tone was low, almost a whisper matching hers. “Go ahead say it. You don’t remember either.”
Ginger Mae choked with emotions. “How did you know?”
“Just goes to reason. We seem to be in the same predicament. You’re just a bit luckier than me.”
“Why do you say that?” She wrinkled her nose in puzzlement.
“Well, dear lady. You have both of your hands and probably all of your hair.”
Ginger Mae snorted. “If you can call that lucky .” She leaned in toward his voice. “Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer, she held out her hand to locate his head. She slowly ran her questing fingers over his bald pate, free of shaving stubble, warm and smooth. “You used to have hair. Before you came here . . . ?”
He reached up with his remaining hand to cover hers. He brought their hands down to rest at his side. “Sorry, I guess I’m just not used to it yet.”
“I noticed your head is smooth. Shouldn’t you have stubble if they shaved your hair off?” She had completely misunderstood. “It’s a lot easier to get used to something like that than the blindness caused by these infernal bandages.”
The man released a sigh. “I guess you’re right. It’s just one more hard adjustment at a time where I seem to have no control over anything. That’s not easy for a man who has been so darn independent his whole life.”
“How do you know you’ve been independent? You can’t rememberanything.” She hoped he was wrong and their memory would come back. She had to bank on that or she would just lose it right here, right now.
“It’s just a feeling I have. That’s all. As a matter of fact, I think we should get rid of these damned bandages. I can’t go another second not seeing. And if we're going to figure out how to get out of here, we need to be able to see , damn it.”
Ginger Mae felt the man remove his hand that covered hers. She sensed him working at his bandages.
“They feel like they’re ready to come off, anyway.” She heard the sound of adhesive parting, and the man laughed with a sense of relief.
“It’s okay . . . I can see . The light hurts.” A moment of silence.
“Okay, it’s your turn. I think you need to take yours off, too. Let’s see if you can see anything.”
Ginger Mae raised her hands to her eyes, her bandages already loose. She felt for a slack end she could unravel as she wondered at the new note in the man’s voice. Scratching insistently at a pucker in the bandages, she slowly unwound them and tossed them aside.
Her eyes remained closed, her trepidation getting the best of her. The man found her hand and gave it a squeeze, his voice strange with apprehension. “It’s okay. You can get through this.”
Ginger Mae slowly opened her eyes. The gummy residue of accumulated inactivity failed to obliterate the fact that she could, indeed, see. The light caused her to blink and squint painfully but she felt her eyes would be alright.
“You have beautiful blue eyes.” His statement drew her attention.
She examined the man in front of her. He had a wide, trusting face and fair complexion although muddy and slack. His frame looked muscular and healthy under the circumstances. At the moment, his face had arrayed itself in a demeanor of compassion, of all things.
“What’s the matter? Not what you expected? And for your information, my eyes are brown.”
The man laughed, his face lit up by his effervescent smile. The sound was wonderful to her ears. So human . . .
“My dear, you have the most amazing crystal blue eyes. No one would make a mistake about that.” He laughed again.
“Honestly. I know what color my eyes are. And they’re brown .” The man stopped laughing, his face
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