Immaculate Fertilization

Immaculate Fertilization

Tiny spaceships landed in my swimming pool. I didn’t actually see them land. I turned around after kicking in the water for five minutes and they were there. As I got closer, the clear green tinted dome and the oval flat sphere on the bottom looked even more like spaceships. I expected the lids to flip open and miniature upright spider-thin creatures with bulging eyes to emerge. In the bright sunlight I focused on the buoyant foam. My tentative finger connected to the top of the capsule and it “popped”.

A green bubble. Many green bubbles. Don Ho’s song Tiny Bubbles floated in my mind. I’d seen bubbles in the pool before, but they were thin and clear, popping in the breeze. I looked around the backyard and everything was covered in green. The ferns, the grass, the leaves were all a dark, rich emerald color. Okay. But the lamp post and the cement deck were coated in an avocado layer of mist.

Maybe something finally dumped out of one of the many airplanes that disrupt my commune with nature every day. My house must be on the flight pattern of every airplane that flies out of Orlando. I felt like an attraction on their tour of wildlife sightings. The pilot would casually announce:

           “And there we have a female bobbing up and

           down in an attempt at who-knows-what. If you watch

           closely you may observe a swimsuit malfunction.”

The news mentioned the Sahara dust plume but didn’t remember hearing about a green hue. It was then that I felt the intense quiet. The usual singing birds were nowhere to be heard and hungry squirrels chasing each other for their bounty were absent.

Returning my attention to the pool water, I realized it looked tainted with lime juice. Instinctively, both of my arms rose out of the water. I rotated them a couple times in front of me and stared in astonishment at my normally olive skin that was more jade than olive. Would the passengers in the planes above witness me bursting out of my bathing suit as I transform into the She-Hulk? Did I now have unlimited strength? I’ve been doing aqua exercises to flatten my stomach curve but becoming indestructible would be even better. I could also become the Wicked Witch of the West, or Shrek’s wife, what was her name? Fiona, that’s it. I voted for Poison Ivy. She was dangerous and earthy with a sensuous vibe.

The corner of my eye caught movement. One of the spacey bubbles interrupted my reverie. This bubble lifted out of the water, a fine spray of green trailing under, resembling steam from an engine. It hovered. Was it waiting for something? Just then an airplane flew overhead, and the bubble took off. It only went as far as a tree branch in my backyard, landing into what looked like the gaping mouth of a gators head. It appeared to be a docking station. My mouth mimicked the gator’s and hung open. All the other bubbles popped and disappeared. They must have been decoys.

“What is happening? Who are you?” I yelled to the tree limb.

As if in answer, my arms vibrated like I had a TENS unit on high speed attached. I looked down again and green bubbles erupted on the tops of my forearms and upper arms. I counted four on each arm. The pain and shock mingled together stopping my breath.

Seconds later the bubbles detached from my flesh. I let my arms fall into the pool water. The eight of them hovered in place, with the same green steam. Smaller than the first one, they looked like babies. They “hatched” on my arms. Just my luck, immaculate fertilization without the mind-blowing alien sex I’ve read about. I giggled despite my panic and confusion.

Another airplane flew over my backyard and the baby bubbles took off and landed in the gators mouth. All except one. Swallowing hard, I felt bile building up.

There must be a frequency from the airplanes that boosts their take off. This time I yelled, “What are you?” I stared at the one still hovering near me. In a soft voice I asked, “What are you?”

I received no answer.

My gaze pivoted to the gator-looking head as it disengaged from the tree. The mouth was closed. It flew with no wings, no steam, just glided toward me and my bubble baby.

Too afraid to move, I stood still in waist high water, only taking deep breaths to suppress my nausea. When gator-daddy was about two feet away from my face, it stopped. The mouth opened just wide enough for my last offspring to enter. 

Still hovering close to my body, the one-inch green bubble floated in air and landed on the left side of my chest. My heart fluttered, as if responding to a magnet, then the bubble baby took off into the waiting alien opening. The mouth closed gently, and the gator eyes lit up.

I thought I saw the green eye slits blink into red heart shapes and back again, but it happened so fast I can’t be sure. A joy enveloped me, fresh as line-dried sheets on a sunny morning. As they sped away, I distinctly heard Arnold Schwarzenegger’s voice saying, “I’ll be back.”

“What just happened?”

My outburst of laughter morphed into tears of sorrow. I never had children of my own. Never experienced that type of love. The joy I had felt moments earlier was replaced with an emptiness so profound it baffled me.

When I wiped my teary face, I noticed that the skin on my arms had returned to my normal shade of tanned olive. Green hues no longer highlighted everything. I heard a bird sing in the tree and saw a squirrel darting on the powerline.  No bubbles reappeared in the pool.

I needed to tell someone, talk this through. Would anyone believe me? I was left wondering when the bubble aliens would be back…and if any of it really happened.