Alien Holiday by Tracy Lauren
Chapter 10
Lo
Resa managed to send me home without him yesterday. Joke’s on him. I’m all the more determined today. I did however honor his request that I not tell anyone about his presence. Yet. That shit has an expiration date. I am absolutely not leaving him up there on that mountain all alone.
My hope is that I’ll be able to persuade him to come down before I have any of the others intervene. You know how men can be—they like to think everything is their idea. I’ll just encourage Resa to join us on his own terms. Then, maybe the Grinch won’t be so fussy about the move.
Anyway, I have the perfect device for encouragement. The holidays! I’m going to swaddle that boy in Christmas cheer! Wrap him up in more holly jolly than he’ll know what to do with! He’ll see how nice our community can be and how wonderful it is to have a friend. Then, he’ll be eager to move into the temple. I just have to make this special for him. I made it special for Gabby, didn’t I?
I smile at her from across the courtyard. People are talking to her again and maybe, just maybe, she seems a little less guarded as she preens over her alien poinsettias. I’ll have to start thinking of her next gift.
Mentally, I run down the list of things that mean Christmas to me. The thing is, that stuff isn’t exactly what means Christmas to the others, and now I have two people I need to find thoughtful gifts for. I’m stumped and that’s when April drops down beside me at the long table, her eyes narrowed slits.
“¿Que paso?”
“I know you brought Gabby those flowers.”
“What? No, you’re crazy…” Secret Santas are supposed to be secret.
“I want some.”
“I don’t even know where those flowers came from.” I try to look anywhere besides April’s eyes, but the second we connect— “Okay, fine!” I drop my voice into a whisper. “I’ll bring you some, but I don’t want to ruin the surprise for Gabby. We have to be discreet.”
“Not a problem. Tell me where they grow and I’ll go get my own.”
My eyes shoot wide. I can’t send her to Resa’s mountain! “No, no. I’ll get them.” But I sound too secretive and April grows happily suspicious.
“What are you trying to hide?”
I deflect. “April, what is Christmas all about for you? What made it special back home?”
April considers whether or not to drop the topic of the flowers and after a silent debate with herself, she gives in. “I don’t know? Hot Toddies? …Hot guys named Todd?”
I snort. “Come on, be real. All I can think of is food.”
“Is an alcoholic beverage a food?”
“Only just barely.”
April shrugs. “Do food then, what’s stopping you from cooking Gabby some special Christmas dish?”
“Only everything. All my family recipes call for things we don’t have here. I can’t even make tamales without the right masa—which is like a corn flour.” I let out a heavy sigh. “And I don’t know what white people eat. Honey baked ham and canned cranberry sauce? I can’t make that shit here either.”
“First of all, there is nothing wrong with canned cranberry sauce—”
“Other than the ungodly shape?”
“Aren’t all cranberries cylindrical?”
“I’m going to say no, but don’t quote me on that.”
“Well, they all want to be—that’s for sure. Anyway, just try something. Maybe it’ll be the alien version of tamales, but it’s the best you can do. And, it’s from the heart. That’s what counts.”
I grumble.
“Seriously, take away all the stuff. On Earth the holidays wasn’t ever about the big materialistic gifts or Black Friday, and here it isn’t even about the food or the hot toddies. It’s about heart. Follow that and you’ll always give the best gifts.”
My pout turns into a begrudging smile. “Okay, I think I have some ideas.”
“Good, my job here is done.”
“Yoga this morning?”
April frowns up at the sky. The fog is thick and the air has that heavy feel to it. Rain is coming. “Always, but I think we’ll have to do it in the common room today, maybe even for the rest of the season. Even when it’s not raining, there’s nothing but mud out there.”
Perfect. No one will be on the hill. That means I can sneak away, pick April some flowers, and visit Resa without having to worry about violating his trust. An idea blossoms in my mind. Food does mean a lot to me at the holidays, and while I can’t do tamales, I can get pretty damn close to pozole. And in my family, the gift of food isn’t just eating it. It’s cooking it—together. And that is today’s gift for Resa!