“So, a real magazine
published your story?” Denise asked me as
we
sat in lounge chairs at the beach with
another couple. The scent of salt water
merged with the fragrance of suntan oil as
seagulls squawked, soaring over the
green ocean waves.
“Yep.” I said. I was proud.
It had been some time since my last
acceptance.
“And they paid you for it, in
like, real dollars?” she asked, with
that lift in her voice that implied
disbelief.
“Yes, they did. Just $100,
but still something.”
Our friends, Jill and Chuck
congratulated me. Chuck shook my hand
and Jill shot me a thumbs up. Denise
remained quiet, staring out at the waves.
“It’s about me, isn’t it?”
Denise asked, her eyes squinting from
the sun, which made her nose more
prominent.
“What?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She said, turning her
head away. “It’s about me.”
“It’s a science fiction
story!” I said. Our friends snickered
quietly.
“Yeah, but it is still about
me, right?”
“No! Why do you think that?”
I asked.
“You keep your anger inside,
and it leaks out in passive
aggressive ways. You wrote about me in
your story and now when it is published
all our family and friends will see it.”
“Our only friends are Jill
and Chuck, and they are right here!” I
said. “And your family hates me! Besides,
they don’t read anything that is not
printed in the Wall Street Journal.”
“Still, you hurt me.”
“It’s a friggin Science
Fiction story! There are spaceships, laser
beams and aliens in it! How the hell can
it be about you?”
“The alien represents me in
your silly passive aggressive way.”
She was looking at the waves again, her
lips thin, eyes sullen. “Passive
Aggression” was her favorite set of words
these days. If I forget to buy eggs
on the way home from work, it is because I
am passive aggressive.
Jill and Chuck pretended to
be reading texts on their phones. I
could feel the awkwardness.
“The alien is nine feet tall,
has four legs, six arms and three
penises!” I shouted! Sunbathers on a
blanket next to us gave me dirty looks.
Chuck and Jill slouched deeper into their
beach chairs.
“Yeah, too much! That’s your
meaning, I am too much.” Denise shot
back at me.
“The alien destroys the giant
robot and saves the planet! How can
that even symbolically be about you?”
“I threw out your favorite
football jersey a month ago.”
“It was my favorite jersey!”
“See, you are still angry and
that is why you wrote that story.”
Jill suggested we lower our
voices and enjoy the beautiful blue
sky and green ocean.
“It’s about me.” Denise
muttered, sitting up, holding her knees,
staring out toward the Bahamas.
“The alien saves the planet!
He kills the giant robot!” I muttered
right back at her.
Things calmed down a bit, as
Jill tried to change the subject,
asking if we liked our hotel room.
Eventually the four of us just sat on the
beach counting the crashing waves.
“So, the alien doesn’t
represent me?” Denise eventually asked
softly, turning her face toward me.
“No! It is a science fiction
story! I love you!”
She smiled.
“OK, I believe you.” She said
and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’m going to get us more
drinks. With lots of rum!” she said,
standing up.
“Don’t forget the rum!” Jill
shouted at her and we all laughed.
“Hey, Denise, don’t forget
the rum!” Chuck also shouted after her,
and we all laughed again.
“Sorry about that. Awkward.”
I apologized to Jill and Chuck.
“Well, that was weird. I
mean, how could she think the alien
represented her?” Chuck said.
“I know!” Said Jill, shaking
her head.
We sat in silence for a
moment. Then Chuck leaned close to me and
said, “She’s obviously the robot, right?”
I stared at him for a full
moment.
“Of course she’s the robot!”
We all laughed out loud.