Sufficient...Or Beaten

I, the narrator, am behind everyone else, watching the protagonist live her life. I am visiting this space marketplace, observing her.    

Alexia kicked her fruit stand’s wooden cabinet door shut and sighed heavily, forcing herself to stay patient with the still deciding customer standing amidst hordes of busy humans buying other aliens’ produce here at Spaceship’s planet and sun-neighboring marketplace. Tapping her unusually long, extremely tan fingers on the counter, she heaved another sigh and ran two of them through her very dirty, blond hair. “Could you just pick the apples or strawberries? They’re delicious, ripe and ready. All you do is pick them.”      

He squinted, studying. “Uh…” Finally grabbing some strawberries out of the basket hanging from Alexia’s stand, he freed them from his big, meaty hand into an open plastic bag she held out to him. She yawned, studying her scarlet claws. This doesn’t take an eternity! Just get some fruit and go.  

She focused on them more and then jumped.

“All done!” He grinned like he had won a prize, and slapped some metal hexagonal rings down next to Alexia’s other hand. Then he trudged off, talking to himself or something.   

Alexia horded the money away, considering whether she should continue this job. She didn’t want to sell fruit—or sell anything at all. I don’t want to waste time selling fruit when I can be working with a loving husband. The demanding pleas, reluctant responses and hurried requests besides, across from and diagonally away from her all maintained a steady level of marketplace loudness. Alexia, staying crouched behind her wooden stand, heard all this noise and commotion. Then she quietly focused and stood up, kicking the wooden crate door shut again. She felt that kick—and felt bad for doing so, like she had actually hurt her stand. She even bit her lip. I want to go home to a beautiful time with my husband. Too bad I don’t have that kind of relationship.   

The crowds’ noise now pressed in on her—she closed her eyes and hands over her very pointed ears for a few seconds. She wanted to run away, be free of any pressure at all—which is also what her separated husband used as an excuse to verbally punch her into complete submission—

She refocused. Cutting her attention from this despairing truth separated her from the pain. But selling fruit only spared her such stress for only so long. Love remained forever. Her desired husband’s wide arms to cuddle into—

She squared her shoulders and did business best she could, serving her customers with a gleeful heart and a warm smile, spreading smiles on children’s’ faces and receiving friendly responses from parents. Pretty soon, the planet’s sky’s bright blueness darkened. Time flew. Alexia pictured an eye closing and finally shutting. She smiled at it, laughing softly. She closed her eyes, her head on the pillow and her body secure in her husband’s arms—

Alexia shook herself, spread a cocky smile and arched an extremely thin eyebrow. I can’t waste time imagining something that will never happen!  

“Yes. How can I help you?”

The short, pudgy woman smiled small and turned to her son, but he was gazing around, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Alexia laughed and told the mother he was overwhelmed with all the choices.

“Yeah—”  

The woman’s curt response stung Alexia. She demanded her son take the fruit (whichever he wanted) and hold her hand when they left. Alexia helped the boy decide between mangos and peaches, bagged the latter and then held it out for him while telling the woman she needed to pay fourteen coins for the food.     

The woman pinched her face. “I don’t think I have that much. Let’s see.” Swinging her purse around on her arm, she dug in it (Alexia glanced at the sky. It was growing darker!) and tossed the money onto the counter. She snatched the bag and ordered the redhead who strived to catch up with his impatient mother to hold her hand. He obeyed but glanced back at Alexia with pity and maybe a little fear and uncertainty sparkling in those kind eyes.   

Alexia grinned and threw up a hand, him responding in kind. She sucked in a breath and exhaled it when bending down to pour this monetary amount into her metal cup after collecting a couple fallen onto the ground and rolling around the stand. After storing the money away, she told herself she’d explain to the Head Village why she’d find another, welcoming, job. Spending time as an arcade game employee, or at an ice cream parlor—whichever was the calmer of the two—would be great. Also, fruit rots, smells, gets bugs or becomes moldy. Toys didn’t do anything but sit on glass shelves under counters, and an ice cream parlor would excite children with all its creative, original flavors. Besides, there’d be toppings to sprinkle and swirls of chocolate syrup to wind around the delicious, summer-celebrating treat!

Alexia stuck her tongue out and licked the air but smartly returned to reality, smiling at the blinking customer, a cheerful grin on her smiley face. “I didn’t want to startle you, so I took some time looking around the wooden sign above your fruit stand. You have full bushes of mouth-watering fruit all delectable to eat! What gorgeous apples, grapes, bananas, apricots, plums, blueberries and blackberries!”     

Yeah. Alexia nodded, sighing. The kind I haul up next to this measly shop every single day. She studied the hordes of humans bustling their way through this very popular shopping area. What does everyone else do once they get home?  

“Excuse me?”     

Alexia jerked her large, vermillion eyes over to the human woman and collected herself, yanking her blood-red hoodie jacket’s silver zipper parts towards each other, her weird hands wrapped around them so her knuckles hit each other. She cleared her throat. “Sorry—what was that?”     

“I want a couple of apples and some grapes. Thank you!”

Alexia blinked—they were actually another mother-son duo, like the woman and boy from before. She grabbed a plastic bag off the hook on one of the wooden sides and poured the apples and grapes into it, careful to do apples first. She smiled brightly and shot out her enclosed fist towards the boy. He reached up to take it, but his mother clutched it, gave Alexia her money and commanded her son to respect her rules. Then she whipped around and half-dragged the boy away, him arguing with her and then glancing back at Alexia. She, lips pursed, waved, her hand lilted. Then she collapsed her store, yanking everything apart but grinning when filling that cup. Straightening the pile, she then hefted the stuff up into her arms, stood up and set off towards the marketplace’s recycling bin center beyond this crazy loud place. Trying to dodge several children chasing each other amidst the throng, her heels teetered, about to betray her by sending her crashing to the ground and proving her betrayal towards the marketplace. A couple of them began playing a game, cruelly yanking the lower parts of the stand from underneath her, then smashing them in their stamping and stomping boots and sandals. Sandals! Flip-flops killing wooden work she created! Never mind, Alexia thought. Nothing mattered anymore. She ordered them to stop so she wouldn’t have to scoop dropped wood splices every step of the way (like her shattered marriage). One of the kids stepped down but looked at Alexia with a smile completely opposite of those boys’ gift of agreement.      

Cold, indifferent—

This was ridiculous. Alexia stifled a sigh and ordered the other kids to quit their stupid behavior. Laughter just mocked her, so she grabbed a board and yanked it so one pair of jumping feet flew off, bottom hitting the stone-grey sand. Crying emitted from this child, but Alexia wanted the thump to teach him obedience. Glad the hustle and bustle of the marketplace covered the crying, she ditched the scene as fast as she could after assembling the wooden pieces, scurrying straight towards the recycling bin center—

A loud noise paralyzed her. Alexia whipped her head back and then widened her eyes in terror and bolted, leaving the wood that fell through her arms to clatter onto the ground.

Gulping, Alexia commanded herself to run faster. Her clawed bare feet smacked the pavement, sending pebbles up in a wave like a car creates water waves when going through a puddle. Desperate to escape, Alexia blew past brick walls, stainless steel, plastic and aluminum buildings and gates as she sprinted from the man she knew was going to hurt her worse for not doing the chores he had ordered of her before he left the house for good. Her heart thumping, Alexia thought it would burst. She wished it was telling her where to go or who to meet to protect herself from his wrath towards her so-called disrespect.

She came to where she couldn’t even see her own knobby hand in front of her. Stopping and catching her breath, Alexia soon froze but heard nothing. But she never trusted herself. She needed to keep running. But, she knew, she’d run forever.

No!

She studied the dark alleyway, the emptiness of it only temporarily securing her. She inhaled and exhaled for a few seconds and then straightened, leaning against the right brick wall and retrieving a cigarette from her back pocket. She placed it between two fingers and then pulled the lighter from its home of a second jean pocket. She smiled to herself as she lit it, glad no one but employees (and other aliens) were allowed back here. No people, no masses and no disobedient, smart-mouthed children!

She smoked and rested her head back. She wasn’t going to allow the smoke to remind her of her psychologically damaged self anymore. She refused to allow herself to be tormented by those memories of her husband’s clawed hand smashing into one cheek and then slapping the other with his other scaly weapon of a hand earlier in their marriage. Screaming had come next. Alexia just took it, blinking and giving him the answers he wanted. He birthed their separation after he swung by their house and announced his big move. Nods answered, and he whipped around, slamming the door—the last noise he had ever made towards her again after commanding her to do the household chores. So he said. Alexia studied the darkness. Maybe if she befriended it—

It doesn’t have hands or a heart to accept me. Or arms to embrace me. Alexia tore away emotionally. No matter the pain, she couldn’t accept the invitation. She needed socialization. Real love.

Alexia inhaled two quick smokes and stretched her neck. Someone was stomping its feet—pebbles flew, and crunching drew closer. “Excuse me!

“Excuse me!”

She stayed silent. Then, relieved its voice hadn’t been dripping with vile hatred, Alexia shot out that she wanted to be alone.

“Sell.”

“Can’t. Don’t have a stand anymore.” She wanted to throw the stupid cigarette at him. Wanted to disappear.         

Silence. The crunching retreated. Alexia breathed her last mouthful towards this ironically nonexistent relationship and ditched her cigarette because she had already used it. Like her husband with her. Maybe she’d give this addiction up—though she picked it up to save herself from him. Then again…

She crunched back to reality, blinking at the people and aliens all seemingly just living their lives. She puffed out her chest, striving to believe in herself as she strode to the marketplace. I got to do it. She blended in, or at least tried to—human flesh and scaly alien skin ran parallel and perpendicular to each other. I’ll rebuild—

Alexia suddenly chose to whip around, dart back into the darkness, when she slammed into someone.  

“You’re coming with me!”  

No, no!

Alexia yanked her wrists from her one and only captor, trying to tear away but crying out when claws bore into them. Screaming for someone, Alexia somehow managed to cat-claw his face, his arms. But he didn’t care (amidst painful winces and hatred widening his eyes) because his shrieks drowned out her cries. Alexia glowered at him, gritting her teeth. He whipped back a hand, but Alexia seized this moment to chomp down on his arm. Razor-sharp teeth sent iron-hot words thundering throughout the completely still marketplace. His irate attitude morphing into blood-boiling anger, the alien tried prying Alexia’s mouth at least loose. He failed and grabbed her head, his malicious eyes burning with smiling evil, and yanked hair. Alexia’s mouth inched away from the madman a little but then chomped again, biting fierce and long. Piercing and satisfying screams filled the air. Her eyes dancing with mad glee, Alexia ripped away, soaking in the suffering he so deliciously deserved from the moment he grabbed her arm and threw her into their new house, claiming he was the head and she was to obey his every command. Because, he said on their honeymoon, my negligent dad left me to suffer a bullied middle and high school life. Now I can punch all that pain away, and who do I have but you as my wife for a punching bag?

Laughing, Alexia leaned back against a wall and put a foot against it once she had gotten this far from his pain-screwed face. Even when she felt the instant red-hot pain of yanked hair, she still strived to laugh. Yanking and almost breaking her neck, the husband yelled ugly names at her. Alexia kicked up and ripped free. He actually widened his big yellow alien eyes with much surprise, but Alexia saw that expression fake as a mask. Nothing he did or said was real. Ever.

“Excuse me! Aren’t you supposed to be selling the fruit here, lady?”

Alexia and her husband stopped and stared. Her boss was yelling across the whole marketplace. She dashed over to him and spoke so elegantly he believed her. But he still ordered her to pick up her wooden crates, set up her fruit stand again and continue selling. Or she’d be out of job and out of home forever.

“But—”

He jerked a knobby, orange finger at her and then at the crates over yonder. When he had left, Alexia sagged, tears at the edges of her eyes. When she looked over, her husband beckoned with a claw. She shivered and swallowed but refused. He roared—

“Cut it!”

The defending voice startled her, and she spun over to see who was so friendly. A handsome alien with similar colors as her husband ignored him. Her husband stomped towards her, but Alexia roared right back at him, demanding him to grow up. He cackled, but the other alien stormed over and lunged at him. “No!” Alexia screamed, but the two tackled, swinging at each other until several sellers had to tear them apart. They spat at each other, the latter commanding him to stop and then stopping himself. When he turned to Alexia, determination shone in his sky-blue eyes.     

“Let’s go!”

He returned to his stand like nothing had happened, continued selling, his patient, vibrant voice filling the air. The marketplace slowly breathed again, its hustling and bustling taking some time to rejuvenate from Alexia and her husband’s violent fight.

Alexia scampered towards the boxes of crates after witnessing her husband’s forced arrest by some of the Head Village’s police. He stabbed her ears with knife-cutting insults and baloney-lame excuse, but she shrugged, indifferent, rebuilding her store and selling her fruit again.

“Excuse me!”

Alexia looked up. She found herself staring right in the apologetic face of the other seller.

“Sorry.”                                                                                       

She smiled gratefully and continued business, cutting her eyes between her customers and him.

Once crickets chirped and fireflies showed off their bright yellow luminescence, she sniffed and blinked really hard not to sob. She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a familiar voice, but it didn’t calm her. She wanted to be alone. She barely kept the tears from coming.      

“Excuse me!”

Alexia jerked around. “What?”  

“Hey. I was watching you, and I feel like we could…” He shuffled his clawed, scaly bare feet. “Could be sellers together or something.” He shrugged and laughed. “It’s lame—”

Alexia wished she could rewind her life. Right now. Well, back before she even saw that jerk face.

“Are you listening?”

 She thought. “Yeah.”

Once they had both set up a vending machine, he sold to late-night customers while she—after getting rid of her other stand—stocked, cleaned and maintained the money as well as everything else financial and secure. When these latecomers emptied the marketplace, Alexia and her new partner exchanged surprised reactions.

“It’s really dark out!”

Something told her not to be so defensive with her sideways look—he was just her partner.

“Are you okay?” His face wore concern, maybe ignoring her self-defense. “You…”

“I don’t receive love from my husband. He claws me instead. Now, I don’t trust anyone. I can just run away, be alone forever.”

“Ah.” He grabbed two things out of the lower cabinet inside the stand and shook them out, plopping them beside each other. “I like to sit on my chair.” Their lantern’s light-colored his profile a beautiful orange. “You?”

She shivered in the cold wind. Was she even right being here?

“Best.”

“Alexia.”       

He said it like he was tasting the name. “It rolls on the tongue—almost…”

He relaxed, putting his hands behind his head and blew out—cigarette-like. Alexia let herself smile.

His eyes closed.

“I need to get home.”

“Okay.”

A sick feeling discouraged an Alexia all tucked in bed alone.

What about her husband? Could she run away with Best?

She’d want to be alone. Forever.

But Best was different. He was…loving. Kind. Gentle. Friendly.