We\u2019re lucky we had kids before the Antiglians brought us here. All creatures, save for the most beautiful, had been sterilized upon arrival. <\/p>\n
They placed us with other human families in a small section of the sprawling interplanetary refuge. I haven\u2019t seen any other Earth animals, but sometimes I swear an elephant\u2019s trumpet rises above the mix of alien sounds. My wife, Maura, shrugs. It\u2019s all white noise to me, Noah.<\/em><\/p>\n Our new home is a cookie-cutter four bedroom with all the creature comforts\u2014except a roof. I\u2019ve gotten used to alien faces hovering above when I eat, bathe, hell, even when I take a dump, but I couldn\u2019t stand those columns of eyeballs watching me have sex. I can only do it completely under the covers. I miss seeing Maura\u2019s body.<\/p>\n Jim slams a toy Ferrari into my foot and mutters, \u201cSorry, Dad.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cOoh!\u201d Cindy says in that way kids have when they expect their siblings to get in trouble. She clutches a stuffed puppy that reminds me of Tuppins, who died just before we left Earth.<\/p>\n I rub my foot. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, but why don\u2019t you put the car away so we can work on long division?\u201d I\u2019d said the same thing to my mom when I was his age. She told me that no one in our family had ever gotten a degree, that I could be the first.<\/p>\n I never expected to be the last.<\/p>\n Jim is already on the other side of the room, chasing Cindy with the car. She trips, sending the dog flying through the air, and a group of Antiglians point their quivering, anemone-tipped appendages at my daughter. I scoop her up to shield her from their view.<\/p>\n \u201cPut me down, Dad!\u201d She wriggles free. \u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n A thump-plop-thump outside sends the kids rushing to the window. Our trough brims with roasted turkey, stuffing, cranberries, and a pumpkin pie. It\u2019s always seventy-two degrees in the habitat, but it must be November on Earth. Antiglians are obsessed with customs and calendars. This is our first Thanksgiving here.<\/p>\n Maura helps me set the table. \u201cEverything smells wonderful, Noah. A delicious feast with no pots and pans to scrub. What could be better?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s engineered.\u201d<\/p>\n She takes a bite of stuffing. \u201cMmm. Well, they can engineer my food until the day I die.\u201d \u201cThis is so good, but I really hope we get pizza tomorrow,\u201d Jim says between bites. \u201cThe pizza here is out of this world.\u201d<\/p>\n Maura and Cindy laugh.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, technically, it is in<\/em> this world. It\u2019s out of our<\/em> world.\u201d<\/p>\n Jim rolls his eyes. \u201cNot mine. Everything here is better.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t say that if you\u2019d backpacked through the Rockies. Eaten a peach fresh off the tree.\u201d My voice catches. \u201cYou\u2019ve never even seen the ocean.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah?\u201d Jim glares. \u201cWell at least here I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBoys! Quiet.\u201d Maura almost never raises her voice.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Mom,\u201d Jim mumbles.<\/p>\n She turns to me. \u201cDo you have something to say, Noah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you wanted me to be quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n Maura mutters something about stubborn, old mules, and I feel like an ass.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry.\u201d I kiss her cheek. <\/p>\n \u201cScoundrel,\u201d she says with a shake of her head. <\/p>\n \u201cWho wants to play shuttle racer on the Holo after dinner?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n Jim grins. \u201cYou\u2019re going down, Dad!\u201d<\/p>\n He makes good on his threat. We all play until the sleeping signal flashes.<\/p>\n The kids scamper off to their bedrooms so they\u2019ll be rested for the morning petting session: two hours in a pen while the Antiglians feed us treats that taste like brownies. Those who put on a show get the most.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t dance.<\/p>\n Maura settles into bed while I toss and turn.<\/p>\n \u201cNoah?\u201d She yawns. \u201cDid you skip your sleep aid?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. I feel like thinking.\u201d I stare at the sky. With the artificial lights, it never gets dark enough in the enclosure to see the stars. A couple Antigilans skitter by above, tentacles entwined. I snuggle against her. \u201cDon\u2019t you remember when we used to sit on the dock, dip our toes into the water, and listen to the loons?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe were teenagers.\u201d She turns to face me and takes my hands. \u201cDon\u2019t you remember the stench of the dead fish? The loons didn\u2019t last much longer.\u201d Her voice fades as her eyes close. \u201cIt\u2019s Thanksgiving. We\u2019re together, and I\u2019m thankful…\u201d<\/p>\n Restless, I head toward the family room. Everyone was allowed to bring one memento, and I chose my college degree. I need to hold it, to feel like a Bachelor of Mathematics, not some exotic novelty. \u201cDaddy.\u201d Sobbing, Cindy throws her arms around me. <\/p>\n \u201cShh, baby. It\u2019s okay.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cThe noises.\u201d She pulls back, eyes wide with fear. \u201cAre the soldiers here?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNo, sweetheart. They\u2019re light years away. They can\u2019t hurt us.\u201d <\/p>\n I carry her back to her room, tuck her in, and place the dog in her arms. \u201cYou\u2019re safe.\u201d I stroke the silky wisps of her hair until her eyes flutter closed. \u201cYou\u2019re safe.\u201d <\/p>\n Last Thanksgiving, we shared a can of room-temperature soup. The hollows of Tuppins\u2019 ribs danced like tiger stripes in the light of our only candle\u2014spring blossom scent or something like that\u2014so artificial it made me queasy. I hadn\u2019t even seen a goddamn flower since before Cindy was born. She\u2019ll be five soon.<\/p>\n They gave us a cake for Jim\u2019s birthday. The kids\u2019 faces were round and happy as we sang, their voices clear and strong. Back in my own room, I pull the covers up to my shoulders. Tomorrow, I\u2019d teach Cindy to add. I could use pizza to explain fractions. <\/p>\n I turn back to Maura, sleeping sweet and peaceful, close my eyes, and remember her words. I\u2019ve always liked brownies.<\/p>\n Michelle Kaseler is a software engineer by trade, but can be whatever she wants to be when she reads and writes. A two-time Boston Marathon qualifier, the only thing that matches her enthusiasm for creating stories is running. And cheesecake. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We\u2019re lucky we had kids before the Antiglians brought us here. All creatures, save for the most beautiful, had been sterilized upon arrival. They placed us with other human families in a small section of the sprawling interplanetary refuge. I haven\u2019t seen any other Earth animals, but sometimes I swear an elephant\u2019s trumpet rises above …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":105518,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-131503","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/131503","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/105518"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=131503"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/131503\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139450,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/131503\/revisions\/139450"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=131503"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=131503"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=131503"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u201cNo.\u201d Jim scowls. \u201cI\u2019m never gonna need it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nJim scoops massive heaps of everything on his plate. I serve little Cindy.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cEarth again? I don\u2019t know why you romanticize the place. You had to wear a bulletproof vest to go outside and scrounge for food.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nHalfway down the hall, I slip and land with a thud. That stupid Ferrari. I stifle a curse, hoping I hadn\u2019t woken anyone up. Whimpers and soft footsteps grow closer. Damn.<\/p>\n
\nWe\u2019re together, and I\u2019m thankful.<\/p>\n