Other

Evie knew that something was wrong with her husband, that something about him had changed completely. He was looking at her like he’d never seen her before, like she was something to marvel at. He hadn’t looked at her like that in a long time, and the proof was in the divorce papers she was keeping hidden in between the sweaters in a rarely visited drawer of her dresser.

She’d contacted a lawyer to have the document drawn up months ago, after she’d followed her husband to a hotel on the outskirts of town when he had claimed to be called into work for an “emergency”. At first, she thought that maybe she was being paranoid but then the signs seemed clearer than ever. Late nights at work, the way he smelled (so unlike himself, the hint of someone else’s perfume), the way he wouldn’t touch her at night, or the way he avoided meeting her eyes.

So she’d gotten the divorce papers, and then buried them under her polyester blend sweaters, saving them for the right moment. But it never felt right. There was nothing right about ending something she had built her life around.

But suddenly overnight, everything had changed. The first day she noticed it, she realized that he had lingered over every task he usually completed in the morning. His movements were careful, calculated when on any other day they would be rushed or at least done quickly due to familiarity of the task.

The second day, she caught him staring at her, watching her every move.

“Brian?” she had questioned, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He’d responded with a simple nod before leaning down and kissing her. And even that was different. It was no longer the chaste kiss he’d been giving her every morning for the past few months, out of duty rather than want—an empty affection to try and hide his discretions. This kiss held warmth and feeling and promise though.

It didn’t take long to forget about the divorce papers.

Months after this change, as they lay together skin to skin, basking in each other, she made the mistake of joking, “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

She didn’t realize it was a mistake, until she saw the smile fall from his face. His eyes moved over her face, as if memorizing it’s features before rolling away from her and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

She moved quickly, sidling over to him and moving onto her knees to rest her front against his back. She pressed her lips to the back of his neck, breathed him in.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked.

“When did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” She was confused.

“That I’m not Brian.”

She smiled against his skin, thinking it was a joke. But he remained silent, head down, his words slowly sinking in.

She pulled away from him, sitting back on the bed and pulling a sheet up to cover herself.

“Who are you then?” she finally asked, her voice just barely a whisper.

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing at his face as he exhaled loudly.

“So you don’t know?”

“Know what?” she asked, suddenly angry. “That you’ve been cheating on me? I know that. But whatever this is that you’re going on about, I don’t know anything about it.”

She got off the bed, suddenly wanting to get dressed, wanting to leave this room, wanting to leave this house. She remembered the divorce papers in her drawer, under the sweaters.

Before she could figure out what to do first, Brian was in front of her, hands on her shoulders and she realized she was breathing heavily.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern on his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” she finally asked, staring into his eyes.

“I’m… I’m Brian,” he said. She felt her face scrunch in confusion. He sighed. “But I’m also not Brian.”

She stared at him for a moment, waiting, hoping that he might elaborate further. But he didn’t. There was just a pained expression on his face, like he didn’t know what to say next.

“I’m leaving,” she said. She pulled away from him and started opening drawers, grabbing at any clothing she could find and pulling it on. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, fine. But I’m not sticking around and being reminded even more that you’re keeping things from me.”

“Evie,” he pleaded. “I want to tell you. I do. I just—”

“Let me guess: you can’t?” she spat. She opened up the drawer with the sweaters and she stared at it for a minute before pulling out the clothing there, the cotton and polyester blends falling to the floor till her hands felt what she was searching for. She pulled the manila folder out and turned, pushing the file into Brian’s hands. “If our marriage really means so little to you, you can just sign these and we can get this over with.”

He looked down at the file in his hands and didn’t wait to see if he opened it up. She pulled her suitcase out of the closet and started piling clothes inside.

“Evie,” he said, quietly. “Please, let me explain. I’ll tell you everything. I love you.”

She felt tears, hot and wet on her cheeks. She dropped the clothes in her hands and wiped at them hastily.

“Explain then,” she said, turning to look at him. He sat back down on the bed with a sigh.

“I’m still Brian,” he said. He saw she was ready to fire off questions, but continued on before she could ask them. “I have his memory’s. I know his likes and dislikes, his routines, his feelings. I’m not from here, from Earth.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m an alien.”

Simple as that. He had said it so plainly, without explanation, without the hint of laughter in his voice. If anyone else had said that, she would have laughed in their face. But hearing it now, from him. He had changed over night months ago, miraculously becoming the husband she loved all over again.

She felt her hands shaking and she knelt to pick up the clothes she had dropped, looking for some kind of distraction.

Finally she spoke: “If you really are an alien, which I’m not even sure I want to believe, then why did you stay?”

“What?”

“Why did you say?” she repeated. “If you’re an alien, and you have Brian’s memories and feelings, then why did you stay?”

She watched him carefully, hands clutching tightly to a t-shirt.

“I saw you. I saw you the way that Brian used to see you. I didn’t understand why he had given up on you though.”

Evie looked down at her open suitcase, looked around the room at the mess she had made, looked anywhere that wasn’t at Brian. She felt the tears still sliding down her cheeks and she set the t-shirt into her suitcase.

“I can’t do this right now,” she said, closing her suitcase and zipping it up. She stood it upright and extended the handle, wheeling it out of the bedroom.

Brian reached out and touched her wrist as she walked past.

“Evie, please.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

She left the room, left the house, left the divorce papers.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, at her mothers house she heard on the news that alien life forms had implanted themselves into certain people all over the planet. The news anchor was interviewing a woman who was the leader of their kind, apparently, sharing information from her planet, literally saying, “we come in peace.”

Evie shut off the TV, convinced the whole world was crazy. But it didn’t take long for this to catch and more proof came forward to corroborate the stories of the aliens coming forward. They were other, and they were there. They were real.

When it became apparent that this wasn’t just one giant hoax, and that the entire world wasn’t completely delusional, Evie found herself back at her house, not sure what to expect at this point.

Before she could even decide whether to knock or just barge in, the door was being pulled open quickly, Brian standing in front of her. He was other, but he was there and he was looking at her. Really looking at her.