Chapter 10 Robbie
ROBBIE
I hoped this wasn’t an everyday beverage they drank, like we drank coffee or tea, because I wasn't a huge fan.
As a stock base for some soup, I'm sure it would be fine. Though, I had more than a feeling that the soup wouldn’t be chicken noodle, and oh, man!
Why did I have to think of that right now?
I sniffled, really wanting a can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup to materialize on the shelf above his stove.
And Jell-O! Just not lime. Strawberry or raspberry or even grape, yeah.
Or all three and some Royal pudding. I never knew why, but Mom always bought Royal when she bought pudding instead of Jell-O, same as she only ever bought Jell-O brand when she purchased gelatin, and Kraft if it was macaroni and cheese, and Campbells if it was soup, and holy jeebus, now I was freaking bawling.
Gree-Gree looked alarmed, hurrying over to examine me.
“Rhgash na hraka ait?”
“I’m sorry,” I sniffled, “just everything hitting me at once, I guess. My mom and dad are gonna wonder what happened to me, ya know? And there’s no way to tell them where I am or that I’m okay.
Um, okay-ish. And I’m never going to get to eat tacos, or Jell-O, or hamburgers, or french fries, or chicken noodle soup ever again! ”
“Krisht doe,” he replied gruffly, looking sympathetic. He swiped his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away my tears. “Prghiah na vrisht.”
I knew he couldn’t understand a word I was saying, but it felt as if he understood that I was mourning the loss of everything I knew and was trying to let me know that I would be okay.
“Thanks,” I said, sniffing back the wet stuff I could feel trying to escape my nose.
He cocked his head, then turned away, rummaging through yet another basket before returning with a soft rectangle of cloth.
Wow, he’d brought me a hanky.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from him and blowing my nose.
I looked around for someplace to put it once I was done, and he pointed to a tall basket by the front door.
I wandered over to it and lifted the lid to peer inside.
Huh. It seemed that aliens also have laundry hampers.
Well, at least these ones did. I dropped my soiled hanky inside and put the lid back on.
The sheer normalcy of that was both a comfort and another blow.
“Vraja,” he said, pointing to my abandoned, half drunk mug of sadness.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I’ll vraja.” Assuming that meant ‘drink’ and wasn’t the name of the beverage. I picked the mug back up and gulped some more down, now that it was cool enough to do more than just sip. The sooner this was gone, the better.
He nodded in satisfaction, his tail curling up from the floor.
He retook his seat and began tucking into his bowl of stir fry.
The meat,, vegetables, and seasonings gave off a tantalizing smell, which made my mouth feel even sadder as I realized that my first association had been correct - he was feeding me broth.
It made sense, I suppose. Neither of us had any idea on how well I’d tolerate the food his people ate.
Hopefully I wouldn’t get sick from the broth, and maybe he’d feed me some of that yummy looking dish.
The kettle on top of his stove began to whistle and I found myself amused by this.
Of course, back on earth we had whistling tea kettles, not that I’d ever actually seen one.
I’d certainly heard of them though, and here I was, on an alien planet in a village full of cat people and encountered one.
I chuckled softly as he got up to bustle back over to the stove.
He poured the boiling water into two cups I'd watched him place dried leaves in earlier and it became even funnier, as I realized I was watching him prepare alien tea, using water from his alien planet, that he boiled in an alien whistling tea kettle.
As it steeped, he glanced over at me, his lips pressed together and the tip of his tail now lashing.
I shook my head at him, knowing that there was no way I could get across what was tickling my funny bone.
And even if I could, there was no telling if he’d think it was amusing too.
I was all too used to other people telling me I had a weird sense of humor.
That didn’t usually bother me, but for some reason, the idea that he might share that opinion did.
I found myself liking him and wanting him to like me back.
He stared at me for a moment, then shrugged, turning his attention back to the tea. I watched as he added some syrup from a bottle and gave it a stir before returning to the table with the mugs.
I picked up the cup he placed before me and took a cautious sip.
Huh. Chah kah tea was actually pretty damned good.
It was a pale green with a mellow caramel and slightly nutty flavor.
It would probably be delicious served over ice on a hot day, not that any such a time was likely to be in my future.
I sobered instantly, thinking of how if I didn't get him to go back, none of the rest of the people I’d left behind at the wreckage would have any more time at all. As frigid as the outside temperatures were, the clock on their survival time was quickly running out.