Seven Unwanted Apologies: An Autobiography

There was a study done in the mid 2000s that reported the average person apologizes around 3,000 times a year.

I was ten when the data was gathered so my input wasn't included, but I know it would have drastically skewed the results. Even then it felt like my life was a cluster of "I'm sorry" and "Forgive me" with a person somewhere in the middle. As if my existence was such an inconceivable mistake I had to constantly atone for.

But you probably want to hear about the aliens, don't you?

It's honestly pretty boring. They invaded twenty-six years ago, citing Earth as a "vexatious planet in need of supervision until further notice."

I wasn't even alive when it happened, and all my generation does is joke about Earth's parents putting it in the corner. The water was supposedly cleaner, the air more fresh and entirely new species of animals formed.

All very wild stuff, however this is my autobiography so no more alien talk. Let's get back to me.

I'll start with that day it was snowing, softly just beginning to stick to the ground. It would soon pile high enough for some of younger kids to attempt snow angels and beg for help creating snowmen.

I took a walk to my favorite coffee shop, bundled in a thick navy-blue hoodie that had some cartoon character whose show I had never watched. I could have biked there but the longer I was out of the house, the better.

My sanity could only take so much in the chaos that was six younger foster siblings the DuPonts took in. Seven including me. I rubbed my temple, already feeling the beginning of a headache I could only hope didn't turn into a migraine.

Getting out of the suburban neighborhood took ten minutes. Each house the same two-story brick model. Same wide driveways occupied with a car or two on the weekend. Same lush shamrock green grass cut to standard height, except for Cindy Love's house which recently spotted brown patches that half the neighborhood was tittering about.

It was enough to drive a person mad if you let it. I was unfortunately letting it.

Alpharetta, Georgia was admittedly better than my previous foster home. That place had been a complex of mustard yellow apartments shoved together, screaming neighbors and his foster mom Lillian who may or may not have been working a money laundering scheme.

Still, it was weird being a black boy with dreadlocks almost to my waist to walk down the street without seeing a single person who looked like me. At least Millwood had been diverse.

The coffee shop was a mile away and possibly the only thing keeping me remotely in shape. The first time the DuPonts drove me there I hated. Similar feeling for the next trip. By number three I was questing their sanity.

The beverages were mediocre at best and the food couldn't stay consistent even if the staff was being held at gunpoint. Not that we were allowed guns anymore, re: aliens but again this is about me. The inconsistencies are what made me love it.

This was the problem growing up with abandonment issues, I now looked at imperfect coffee shops allowed to exist in peace and compared it to myself.

The first came before I even reached the shop in the form of a homeless man holding a sign about an injury forcing him quit his job. You'd think the aliens would do something about that but no, there he was reaching his hands out to me instead.

I winced, patting my flat pockets signifying their emptiness. He rolled her eyes before spotting his next target.

Guilt weighed on me as I made my way inside the building, my five-dollar bill stuffed inside my phone case suddenly seeming criminal.

The second comes immediately after in shape of me lost in thought crashing into an unexpected woman in a pantsuit, effectively spilling her drink over her outfit that was the very least tailored.

My mouth parted, arms already wildly waving in her direction, unsure how to undo the damage. "I am so-"

The woman scoffed; face contorted in anger. "I bet you are." She glanced to her now empty cup before checking her watch. "I don't even have time for this." She stomped away leaving me horrified.

"And there goes Terrorizer Tammy, we can only hope she doesn't return."

I looked over to see Elias Wood sitting at a table munching on a pastry. I couldn't stop the smile that immediately etched on my face whenever Elias was around.

I suppose I should tell you that Elias is an alien. No, it wasn't his family that originally took over. Infact the Wood family had only been here for a year. Tourist who decided they wanted to live on Earth to fully experience the culture.

Wood wasn't their real last name, but according to Elias their true names were ten syllables long and this was easier.

I feel the need to clarify having a crush on an alien does not mean that it's suddenly all about aliens. This is still my story.

The words registered in my head, and I groaned. "That'd make me feel worse."

Elias took a bite of his treat. "Terrorizer Tammy takes out her overworked stress on the staff every chance she gets and doesn't even have the decency to make up for it in tips."

The words do their job of loosening my shoulders. Elias gestured to the empty chair across from him and despite having ordered nothing, I sat.

"Is her name actually Tammy?" I asked.

Elias shrugged, "Hell if I know."

It brought a laugh out of me which quickly morphed into a frown when Elias offered to buy my usual order.

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"I insist, you did do me that really big favor last week," he said already heading to the counter.

Ah yes, the favor. Elias had shown up at my door at one in the morning asking to hold his box for him. Said box was the size of dresser drawer engraved in deep gold loops, standing out against its black background. It also weighed about fifty pounds.

Very shady, and it had shifted my view of Elias from alien next door to potential intergalactic criminal. Which apparently wasn't a deal breaker to me because I took the box.

"Order up," Elias said dropping my latte with my name Josia messily scrawled and egg croissant on the table.

"Thanks," I said.

Although it was sort of a moot point considering Elias had more money than everyone in this town. Possibly the state of Georgia. He could spend less than five bucks on some food.

"If I had known you'd be here I would have brought your box," I said unwrapping my meal. "My bad."

And there goes three.

"It's no problem," Elias said. "Not like your species has clairvoyance."

I'm going to break my rule and talk a little bit about aliens if only to give you some context. Yes, they had supernatural abilities, differing from each other depending on the region they came from.

Elias could shapeshift into anything. People, animals, beasts I've never seen before, liquid. You name it he could turn into it.

I wasn't sure if the dirty blonde hair, green eyes, freckles on tan skin was Elias' real appearance or just one he donned for Earth.

And now that alien talk is over with, you're just in time for four and five.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, I unlocked it opening to a group chat of me and the Duponts.

I suppose I can tell you their names seeing as they are separate people. Margret and Phillip. Margret was a brunette with a bob and a very upbeat personality. Phillip was also a brunette but with a tousled haircut paired with a beard. Not as upbeat as Margret but still pretty up there.

When we first met, I was under the impression they had a savior complex the size of the Pacific Ocean and in desperate need of therapy. I've grown to accept the fact that they're actually good people, however the therapy part still stood.

Two messages from each asking where I was. In my haste for peace, I forgot to inform anyone of my whereabouts.

I very quickly replied back detailing my trip with the promise to be home soon. And of course, an apology, which was responded with the number of weeks I was grounded. Two in case you wanted to know.

"I can give you a ride," Elias said, grabbing his car keys.

I wasn't entirely unsure that Elias couldn't read minds in addition to his shapeshifting. Best not to think about.

I hopped into his car, a white Bentley, the passenger seat already adjusted to my liking.

I liked to think I was only person riding in Elias' passenger seat and therefore the adjustment was special.

The ride was short, filled with music, jokes and when we arrived at my house, I was already Mouring the next two weeks. Until-

"You know I wish things were different," Elias said suddenly.

I glanced at him; brows furrowed in confusion.

"Like if I were human or if you were an alien," He clarified, staring at the steering wheel. "Then maybe we could..." he trailed off.

What a way to find out your crush liked you back.

I cleared my throat looking away. "We really don't have to do this today," I said. "Or ever."

"I just wanted you to know."

"Know that we're basically wasting our time," a stangled laugh left my throat. "Got it."

"No, I just don't want you to get your hopes up," Elias said quietly.

"I'm not even asking you for anything,'' I snapped, unbuckling my seat to get away from the stifling situation.

"I know," he whispered. "But still, I'm sorry."

Bet you didn't expect six to be from him.

I slammed the car door trudging to my front door eager to spend the next two weeks forgetting this conversation ever happened. How do you dumped by someone you're not dating?

I didn't even want to remind Elias I still had his box that probably had drugs in it or something my mind couldn't even comprehend.

The Margret and Phillip are already waiting inside. I hand my phone over without argument. If I was looking on the bright side, I would be grateful to have people worried over my wellbeing. I was looking in the Mariana Trench.

They must be able to tell something is wrong because they don't even lecture me, just send me to my room with a vague time of when dinner will be ready.

My room was a mostly empty thing, a bed, a dresser, some books. Even though I'd been here for two years now I was still expecting to be shipped off at any moment.

I stare into the mirror one of the younger kids gifted me for Christmas. I truly looked as if my dog had just died.

I suppose unconsciously I had been hoping for something to happen with Elias. Which was stupid. We were two different species.

Sorry for putting us through this, I think to myself. My reflection stares, unforgiving.

Of course, seven is to myself.

Very dramatic, right? I bet you're intrigued to read chapter two which will have significantly less aliens. Probably. Sorry in advanced if this is a lie.

Does that technically make it eight?