The Perfect Hostess
Jun. 15th, 2004 07:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaitouFor Conjucntion Members only, since it's still rough. Flidget told me to write a tea story that has nothing to do with Earl Grey. I wanted to write soemthing about this weird tea/coffee combination I saw in Hong Kong, but I couldn't find anything about it. So I ended up with THIS instead. My mind works in truly mysterious ways....W
The Perfect Hostess
A true lady is a lady under any circumstances. She is defined not by style and elegance alone, but her bearing, her manners, the indestructible face she shows to the world. And Sophie Ballister-Kent was a lady from the tips of her Prada shoes to the perfect curl of her hair.
“Paul,” she said in a measured voice.
Paul licked his lips, but couldn’t quite tear his eyes from the bizarre sight in front of him. “I, uh, wha…yes Dear?”
“I think it might be best if you go off to the police or someone. Whoever it is that handles this sort of thing.”
He jerked involuntarily towards the hall, away from the sliding glass door that led to the deck. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” At his doubting look she put her hands on her hips, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Paul, this isn’t the fifties. They’re not going to drag me off and have their wicked way with me. I doubt they even realize I’m female.”
“But…”
“And someone had better keep their eye on them, so one of us ought to stay. The authorities are more likely to listen to you than to me.”
“C-Can’t Noemi watch them?”
“I believe that Noemi is in the shoe closet. You’ll probably have to give her a bonus to get her to stay after this.”
“S-Sophie,”
Sophia gritted her teeth. “Paul. Please go now and get the authorities. I’d like to get this over with quickly if possible.”
“Right, right.” Paul gave in and clattered off towards the front door. Sophia let out a sigh.
A part of her would have liked to run of screaming right along with him. But only a very small part. A lady was elegant under all circumstances. She certainly wouldn’t start screaming or panicking now. Only Audrey Hepburn could carry that off and remain a lady. But if you had to be a Hepburn, Sophia thought you ought to be a Katherine.
And so she squared her shoulders and turned back to the sliding glass door, and the magenta aliens that stood there.
Her first thought was of a layered haircut. A short layer of tentacles covering the head, then at the neck and shoulders a wider ring that hung down the greater length of their bodies. Their bodies themselves tapered down almost to the floor before flaring out in a last ring of sturdy tentacles…rather like a mermaid line skirt.
The aliens wore white, a ring of fabric around the neck and a tight wrapping, like a strapless cocktail dress around their torso. The aliens themselves were a shocking magenta, with tall eyes like a bright copper penny. They also wore a sort of body paint, their tentacles streaked with orange, green or purple. The effect was incredibly bright and garish.
Sophia took a deep breath. They were not going to eat her. You didn’t come half way across the galaxy to simply eat the first sentient being you found. This was first contact. This was a diplomatic situation. She would hate to have it written in the history books that aliens had landed and Sophia Ballister-Kent had been unspeakably rude.
She opened the door.
“Good afternoon,” she said cautiously, “may I help you?”
One of the aliens shuffled forward and curled all its tentacles out and inward, dipping like a little girl dropping a curtsey. It burbled at her, but the sound was even more incomprehensible than the music her son played when he was home from college.
Well, it was worth a try anyway. “My name is Sophia.” She laid one hand on her chest and repeated, “Sophia.” She stretched out the word making every syllable distinct.
The alien who had curtsied flipped the middle row of tentacles up, pointing to itself and burbled again.
“C-Clour?” Sophia desperately seized onto the syllable.
Her answer was a short dip. The alien then extended one tentacle towards her. “Soh-Feah.” Close enough; she nodded.
She took a steadying breath and held out her hand. “Very pleased to meed you.”
Once more the alien failed to completely grasp the concept, extending one tentacle about a foot from Sophia’s hand.
The alien then pointed to the last three members of the group. As far as she could tell they were Preel, Ja’an and Oourl. Ja’an’s name took the longest to master, trying to get the appropriate pause between vowels.
Sophia found herself at a bit of an impasse. If they’d asked her to take them to their leader, she certainly hadn’t understood it. And Paul still hadn’t returned. But that didn’t mean they could just stand in the doorway feeling awkward.
She stepped away from the door and gestured inside. “Won’t you please come in?”
The living room was not the most impressive room in the house, but it was the most comfortable, and had the widest range of furniture, overstuffed leather chairs and a chez lounge among other things. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of furniture would be most comfortable for them, but if any room had it, it would be the living room. And the first rule of being a good hostess was to make your guests comfortable. Not to show off the antique Louis XVI furniture in the drawing room.
The aliens followed, their copper eyes darting curiously side to side, taking everything in. Sophia noted with satisfaction that they were all careful not to touch any of her antiques, proving her theory that the aliens were polite and respectful. They murmured softly to each other as they walked, their tentacles making a soft shushing sound on the plush carpeting.
She admired their gliding movements. There was no awkwardness or stiltedness to their motions. She was sure that they would be able to balance a 12 volume encyclopedia on their heads without breaking a sweat.
In the living room Sophia said, “Please make yourselves at home.” She sat down for a moment on the leather couch, to provide a visual aid, and then gestured at all the seats in the room. Did they even sit down? She wondered. Did they even have a spine?
The aliens conversed among themselves for a moment then they gathered around the glass coffee table, twisting their lower tentacles into a tight rope and singing down like a collapsing telescope. Now they reminded her of squat magenta bowling pins…with fringe. “Oh.” Was all she said.
There was an awkward pause which Sophia filled by saying “I’m so very glad you could come.” The aliens watched her with their bright unblinking eyes. “This is probably the most exciting event since the moon landing. Everyone will be so thrilled. May I get you anything?”
But of course they didn’t understand. One of the four, Oourl, she believed, kept fiddling with a small device that looked similar to Paul’s PDA.
Sophia hesitated, coffee or tea? Or something else altogether? Finally she decided on tea. It was, after all, the most universal and civilized drink on earth. If she were to introduce any aspect of earth culture, it would probably be the best.
“Please excuse me for a moment. I’ll just get us something to drink.”
In the kitchen she set the water to boil. Putting it in the microwave would have been quicker, but some things had to be done properly, and this was one of them. It might be acceptable for making herself a quick cup in the dark hours of the night, but not for visiting dignitaries. She pulled out the good silver, the delicate porcelain cups with a faint patterning of roses. But she couldn’t find the tea itself to save her life.
Sophia crept back towards the hall closet. “Noemi? Do you know where we keep the tea?”
“Which tea?” came the muffled, shaky voice.
“The good kind, the Lapsang Souchong my sister brought back from her trip to London. I could swear it was in the left hand cupboard.”
“It’s on the second shelf, Mrs. Ballister. Behind the spices.”
“Thank you, Noemi,” Sophia turned to go and paused. “Would you like me to make you a cup as well? It might calm your nerves.”
There was a long silence from the closet. “Are those…things still out there, Mrs. Ballister?”
“Yes, but they don’t seem to mean any harm. It’s perfectly safe to come out.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Ma’am, I’ll just say right here.”
Sophia shrugged, “That’s fine, Noemi.”
She returned to the kitchen and found the tea right where Noemi said it would be. Fabulous memory, they really had to keep her on. Just as she placed the tea caddy on the tray the kettle began to whistle. Perfect. Sophia washed the pot out with a bit of the hot water to warm it, then filled it up. It was an extra large pot, especially good for large parties.
Sophia carried the tray out to the living room, the aliens rotating in place to track her movements, still burbling softly to themselves. She liked the sound of the language, even if she was sure she could never reproduce it. It reminded her of a murmuring brook, or a pigeon’s coo. She often thought you could tell a lot about people by the sound of their language. French simply SOUNDED sophisticated, romantic; Spanish fast-paced and hot tempered; German harsh and foreboding. And English, well, it may have been her personal bias, but English was the greatest of all, rich, expressive, sometimes coarse, but sometimes magnificent. Listening to the aliens, Sophia decided that her instincts must be right and these beings must be trustworthy.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she told them, “but I hope you will enjoy this.”
Clour’s eyes darted over the tea service, a tentacle hovered over the teapot. The eyes darted up to Sophia and it said one word, like a bubble rising to the surface with a pop.
“Water,” Sophia clarified. She poured a small amount into a cup to show them. “I understand it’s one thing that makes the Earth so special. We have quite a lot of it. Be careful, it’s hot.” She mimed touching the water and pulling her hand back in pain. It was a bit silly, perhaps, but better than the aliens getting scalded and creating an inter-galactic incident.
The aliens swiveled towards each other. One of them, Ja’an? Yes, the one with the violet eye-shadow emitted a tittering sound that sounded distinctly like a giggle. Sophia fought a blush even though she suspected they were talking about the water and not her charades.
Clearing her throat self-consciously she opened the tea caddy. The rich aroma filled the room. Using the accompanying spoon she tapped a small amount onto a saucer. “This is tea. Tea. It’s very healthy, almost everyone on the planet drinks it in one form or another.”
Preel pulled an instrument out of a bag, looking something like a combination of a turkey-baster and a curling iron, plated in chrome. The five forward-most tentacles curled up, in and out, like an apologetic S, then gestured at the tea leaves.
“Oh goodness no, please do test it. I would hate to discover you’re allergic.” Sophia gestured for the alien to go ahead.
It was fascinating to watch as Preel expertly twisted a dial, pulled at the bulb and took readings from the tea. The alien’s movements were delicate and precise, not the rampant flounderings you would see in a movie. They were almost…elegant?
As the readings came up Preel burbled excitedly, the round syllables practically tripping over each other in the effort to get out. Preel turned back to Sophia and dipped as Clour had done earlier; a ‘yes.’ Only in Preel’s excitement the alien dipped multiple times, like a bobbing apple. It was indescribably cute.
Confident now she spooned the tea leaves into the water and covered the lid. “It will just take a few minutes to steep.” She told them. Sophia picked up the teapot and swirled it gently counter-clockwise, a trick she’d picked up from her grandmother.
“Tea is really very healthy, you know. It’s even slightly disinfectant. The tannins are especially good for you. I read about it in the New Yorker. If you’re here for trade relations, tea might be an excellent import.”
A good hostess was supposed to keep the conversation flowing, but that was nigh impossible with the language barrier. Sophia wished she’d thought to serve them the Silver Needle tea, or Jasmine. Those would have only taken a minute to steep properly.
(little bit of filler here)
When the tea finished brewing, Sophia poured the clear red-brown liquid out into the cups, just a tiny bit into each. The rich smell of the tea made Sophia close her eyes and sigh in pleasure. “I don’t know how you take your tea, so you really ought to try it plain first. It’s a bit bitter.”
She lifted her own cup to her lips and took an infinitesimally small sip as an example. Sophia abhorred tea without either lemon or honey, something to blunt the bitter taste. It was a personal flaw.
Hesitantly the aliens picked up their own cups. Oourl inhaled deeply, eyes half closed in an imitation of Sophia’s appreciation. They all took small sips. Like Oourl, Clour seemed to enjoy the taste, but Ja’an’s face pinched up. “Tak!”
Sophia smiled gently. “Yes, I know. I don’t care for it much plain either. Don’t worry, everyone can learn to love tea, we just need to experiment until you find out how you prefer it.”
Without even thinking about it she reached out and patted Ja’an on the tentacle in a comforting way. Surprised with herself she jumped back. “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t been rude.”
Ja’an made the tittering sound again and said a bubbling sentence, swishing tentacles in what Sophia could only interpret as a ‘not at all’ gesture.
Absently, Sophia rubbed her fingers together. The alien’s skin was softer than she expected, like crushed velvet. There was a trace of bright sparkles on her palm, rubbed off from the alien’s body paint.
Preel took another small sip and put down the cup, the apologetic tentacle motion curving up again.
Sophia turned back to the tea tray and began to lay out the rest of the service. The tea was still steeping, and she knew that the second cup would be darker, and more bitter, but this time she would teach them how to counter it.
“This is sugar. It’s very sweet. We use it to soften the bitter flavor. Personally I prefer honey, sugar seems to saccharine for my tastes, but sugar is the more traditional sweetener. Sugar.” She tapped the sugar pot. She spooned out a small helping into Ja’an’s cup and urged it back into the alien’s tentacles.
With great reluctance Ja’an took another sip. But this time the alien’s eyes lit up and up bubbled a round toned word, certainly the opposite of the sharp negative “Tak!” sound.
The other aliens eagerly sampled from Ja’an’s cup. Only Oourl seemed to prefer it plain. Sophia was feeling giddy with triumph. She always enjoyed playing the hostess. There was great satisfaction in making sure that everyone enjoyed themselves at a party or dinner. But none of that even began to touch on THIS. And she hadn’t even been prepared! Imagine what she could have come up with with a little warning!
“Now,” she said, moving to the next dish, “this is milk. Preel, you might want to check this as well. Some people here are intolerant to it. I wouldn’t want you to needlessly suffer the same.” She nodded to the strange device Preel used before.
With another dip, Preel held the device to the small milk pitcher, hooking it down under the lid. But after only a moment the alien lowered the device, shaking tentacles in a discouraging way. Preel apologetically pushed the pitcher away, back towards Sophia.
“That’s quite all right. I don’t take milk with my tea either.” Sophia took the pitcher and put it back on the tray where it would be out of the way. Then she pushed forward the last dish. “This is lemon. A sour fruit. We don’t often eat it, but it is very popular for flavoring or seasoning other foods.”
Ja’an eagerly reached forward and took one of the water thin slices, probably assuming that it was another sweet. But upon tasting it, the offending lemon slice was hurriedly spat back out into Ja’an’s saucer with another “Tak!”
This time Clour, whom Sophia was already thinking of with special favoritism, rose up a little and burbled sharply. The only word of which Sophia could understand was “Ja’an!” Then the alien turned back to Sophia with an apologetic curl and said something else.
“It’s really no problem. The young don’t always grasp the finer points of etiquette right away, do they?” She said, taking a guess. Remembering Ja’an’s earlier wave she tried to imitate the motion.
Some of the tension left Clour’s frame, but the alien berated Ja’an one last time. Ja’an shrunk down contritely and mumbled some sort of apology.
“You’re completely forgiven, Dear. Think nothing of it. If we could only understand each other better you’d have been better warned.” She brought herself back to the task at hand and gestured to Preel’s cup. “May I?” at the alien’s permission she used the small tongs and added two lemon slices to the cup, floating like miniature lily pads. After waiting a moment to let the flavor release she turned the cup back to Preel. “Here, try it like this.”
With a sideways look at Ja’an, Preel took a sip. Luckily for Sophia’s nerves the alien did not spit it back out, but trilled a small ‘L’ sound and took another sip.
Again the cup was passes around, and all but Ja’an tried the lemon tea. Sophia smiled to herself and poured four fresh cups of tea, a normal portion this time. She collected the half finished cups and set them back on the tray. “There,” she said, “Now you may take your tea any way you like.”
Oourl was the only one to prefer the tea plain. Clour added lemon, Ja’an sugar and Preel a touch of both. Not wanting the lemon to go to waste Sophia added that to her own cup. She was just starting to think of a new topic for conversation when she heard noises from the front hall.
“Sophie? Sophie! Are you there? Are you all right!?” Paul’s strident voice boomed down the hallway.
“Will you excuse me please?” With a nod to her guests she walked out to the foyer.
Paul stood there looking quite undone, his neat salt and peppering hair disheveled, though she couldn’t imagine how it came to be that way. Standing with him was Mayor Frobisher and the Chief of Police.
When he saw her, Paul rushed forward and gripped her by the arms. “Sophie! Are you all right? Are those monsters still here? Are you—?”
Sophia calmly detached his grip and laid a palm on his cheek. She noted guiltily that it was the same one she’d touched Ja’an with and now Paul’s cheek was streaked with violet glitter. “Paul, calm down. I’m fine. And please keep your voice down. I don’t want to alarm our guests.” Using her other hand she patted his shoulder and tried to be a comforting rock.
She turned to the mayor. “Mayor Frobisher, delightful to see you. You’ve lost weight since the New Year’s party I see.”
The mayor frowned, his moustache hiding pursed lips as if he thought she were being silly. “What’s all this nonsense about aliens? Mrs. Ballister, if you and your husband weren’t such staunch contributors to the campaign…”
“I understand. It does stretch credibility, doesn’t it? But I assure you that there really are aliens in the living room.”
“You let them in the house!?”
She turned to her husband incredulously. “You expect me to leave intergalactic representatives waiting on the doorstep!? Really, Paul! No, we’ve just been having tea. Come in and let me introduce you.”
The police chief rolled his eyes and sighed in away that screamed he thought he was wasting his time. Sophia froze him with an icy glare and decided he would NOT be invited to any function SHE held.
When they walked into the living room the aliens swiveled as one to regard the additions to the party. Taking one look at the magenta tentacles and long bright eyes the Mayor squeaked, “My God!” and toppled backwards over a footstool. The police chief looked distinctly weak in the knees and Paul’s face paled to an unhealthy taupe. It was unworthy of her, but Sophia couldn’t’ help being just a little satisfied at their panic. Who said women were the weaker sex? While Paul helped the mayor get back on his feet Sophia gestured the aliens over.
“Mayor Frobisher? May I introduce you to Clour, Oourl, Preel and Ja’an? My pronunciation may not be very good.” She gestured to the aliens who all bobbed as they were introduced.
“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Mayor Aaron Frobisher. He is, well, I suppose you could say he’s our leader.”
The mayor smiled wanly, “How do you do.”
“This is the Chief of Police, Eric Hobsbawn. And of course, you’ve already met my husband, Paul.”
“Nice to meet you,” Paul said bravely. Sophia squeezed his shoulder in thanks.
Suddenly the PDA at Oourl’s side pinged sharply. She pulled it out eagerly and opened it lengthwise. Inside were four small discs and four tiny spheres. Oourl hurriedly passed these out to the others, slipping the disc under her tongue and placing the sphere in a depression at the back of the jaw that Sophia realized must be an ear.
Clearing her throat slightly, Oourl stepped forward. “Forgive us for not speaking before,” she said in perfectly clear English, It takes some time for our translating device to collect enough of a sample to be effective, and your language was unexpectedly complex.”
“Oh how lovely, you can speak English now!” In her glee she grasped two of Oourl’s tentacles as she would one of her dearest friends.
Oourl’s eyes crinkled in pleasure. “Yes. I am pleased we can finally communicate effectively.”
Clour stepped closer, drawing up to her full height. “We are a delegation from the Alclol people, sent to establish diplomatic and trade relations with this planet. As Soh-Feah has apparently told you, I am Clour, the ambassador. This is my retinue, Preel, Oourl, and Ja’an.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” the mayor mumbled hollowly.
“We apologize for intruding so abruptly.”
“Not at all,” the mayor wheezed.
Sophia was almost dancing in delight. How exciting! How wonderful! History being made right here in her living room. She’d have to have Paul make a plaque for the house. ‘Alien Dignitaries Stayed Here.’ And of course the house itself would become a historical landmark. They’d have to renovate.
“Is it with you we should arrange our treaty?” Clour asked the mayor.
His eyes glazed over with the thought of arranging an intergalactic treaty. “N-no, no I’m afraid that goes quite a bit higher than me. I-I think you’ll have to speak to the President in Washington.”
Clour considered this and bobbed in agreement. “I don’t wish to press, but it would be best to begin talks swiftly.”
“Of course, of course. Let me, ah, make a few calls.” He nodded in apology, flipping open his cell phone and walking to the door. Sophia heard him mumble, “No one, NO ONE is going to believe this.” The police chief was still frozen in shock.
Preel laid a tentacle across Sophia’s hand. “We want to thank you so much for your welcome. This has been the most hospitable reception we’ve had on any planet.”
Sophia blushed, blushed! She hadn’t in years. “Coming from such gracious guests that is truly a compliment. It has been my pleasure to have you here as my guests.”
“May we come again?” Ja’an asked, her voice almost an octave higher than the others.
Sophia smiled. “Of course! You are all welcome any time. I can’t remember a more enjoyable afternoon. And now that I know you have such a sweet tooth, Ja’an, I’m sure I can come up with a more palatable menu.”
“Do not encourage the young one, please,” Clour said in a dry tone of voice. “She is in training, but I fear she will never learn proper discipline if she is catered to in that way.” Three tentacles draped over Ja’an in a familiar sort of way that belied the teasing words. Sophia wisely held her tongue.
Clour turned to Oourl. “Do you have one of the samples of quescha we brought?”
“Of course.”
Oourl passed the item to Clour in such a way that Sophia couldn’t see it. Clour straightened again in a dignified manner. “In return for your hospitality we would like to offer you this as a small token of our appreciation.” She uncurled her tentacle to show a small gem. It was smooth and milky, a bright cerulean with smoothly shifting violets and greens, like an opal seen through gauze. It almost seemed to glow under the lights. “It’s not much to offer I know. Quescha has no extraordinary properties other than that it is pretty and somewhat rare. But it has been a useful item for trade and we hoped it would prove the same here.”
Eyes wide, Sophia shook her head. “I’m sure it will, it’s lovely. But I couldn’t. Not for such a small thing. It was really my honor to play the hostess. I really don’t need anything than that.”
Oourl’s eyes twinkled again in amusement. “Soh-Feah, is it not rude in your culture to refuse a gift?”
Sophia laughed, caught off guard. “Well then, thank you.” She took the small stone, unexpectedly warm and heavy in her hand. “I will treasure it, and the memory of today always. I do hope that your schedules will allow you to come back for a visit.”
“We wish that as well,” Preel said, “This time has been very pleasant."
Later that night, after the aliens were safely on their way to Washington, and all the TV stations were carrying the news, Sophia and Paul took their drinks to the deck out back and looked up at the clear night sky. Sophia didn’t know the shapes or the names of the constellations, but she had a new interest in learning them.
She looked at the queshca gem in the moonlight, tilting it to watch the flow of colors. Tomorrow she would take it to that little gallery in Rodchester and have them make something out of it. A necklace, she decided.
Paul wrapped one arm around her shoulders; thumb tracing a small circle against the fabric. “You handled yourself like a duchess today,” he said, “no, like a queen. Braver than I was.”
She smiled and leaned back against his chest. “Well would you come halfway across the galaxy just to attack at first sight? I was just being polite.”
“Well, I’m proud of you, my Sophie.” He paused, taking a drink, “Just one question. How did you figure out that they were all women?”
Sophia smiled and turned to her husband. “That’s simple, Paul, they all behaved like perfect ladies.”
The Perfect Hostess
A true lady is a lady under any circumstances. She is defined not by style and elegance alone, but her bearing, her manners, the indestructible face she shows to the world. And Sophie Ballister-Kent was a lady from the tips of her Prada shoes to the perfect curl of her hair.
“Paul,” she said in a measured voice.
Paul licked his lips, but couldn’t quite tear his eyes from the bizarre sight in front of him. “I, uh, wha…yes Dear?”
“I think it might be best if you go off to the police or someone. Whoever it is that handles this sort of thing.”
He jerked involuntarily towards the hall, away from the sliding glass door that led to the deck. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” At his doubting look she put her hands on her hips, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Paul, this isn’t the fifties. They’re not going to drag me off and have their wicked way with me. I doubt they even realize I’m female.”
“But…”
“And someone had better keep their eye on them, so one of us ought to stay. The authorities are more likely to listen to you than to me.”
“C-Can’t Noemi watch them?”
“I believe that Noemi is in the shoe closet. You’ll probably have to give her a bonus to get her to stay after this.”
“S-Sophie,”
Sophia gritted her teeth. “Paul. Please go now and get the authorities. I’d like to get this over with quickly if possible.”
“Right, right.” Paul gave in and clattered off towards the front door. Sophia let out a sigh.
A part of her would have liked to run of screaming right along with him. But only a very small part. A lady was elegant under all circumstances. She certainly wouldn’t start screaming or panicking now. Only Audrey Hepburn could carry that off and remain a lady. But if you had to be a Hepburn, Sophia thought you ought to be a Katherine.
And so she squared her shoulders and turned back to the sliding glass door, and the magenta aliens that stood there.
Her first thought was of a layered haircut. A short layer of tentacles covering the head, then at the neck and shoulders a wider ring that hung down the greater length of their bodies. Their bodies themselves tapered down almost to the floor before flaring out in a last ring of sturdy tentacles…rather like a mermaid line skirt.
The aliens wore white, a ring of fabric around the neck and a tight wrapping, like a strapless cocktail dress around their torso. The aliens themselves were a shocking magenta, with tall eyes like a bright copper penny. They also wore a sort of body paint, their tentacles streaked with orange, green or purple. The effect was incredibly bright and garish.
Sophia took a deep breath. They were not going to eat her. You didn’t come half way across the galaxy to simply eat the first sentient being you found. This was first contact. This was a diplomatic situation. She would hate to have it written in the history books that aliens had landed and Sophia Ballister-Kent had been unspeakably rude.
She opened the door.
“Good afternoon,” she said cautiously, “may I help you?”
One of the aliens shuffled forward and curled all its tentacles out and inward, dipping like a little girl dropping a curtsey. It burbled at her, but the sound was even more incomprehensible than the music her son played when he was home from college.
Well, it was worth a try anyway. “My name is Sophia.” She laid one hand on her chest and repeated, “Sophia.” She stretched out the word making every syllable distinct.
The alien who had curtsied flipped the middle row of tentacles up, pointing to itself and burbled again.
“C-Clour?” Sophia desperately seized onto the syllable.
Her answer was a short dip. The alien then extended one tentacle towards her. “Soh-Feah.” Close enough; she nodded.
She took a steadying breath and held out her hand. “Very pleased to meed you.”
Once more the alien failed to completely grasp the concept, extending one tentacle about a foot from Sophia’s hand.
The alien then pointed to the last three members of the group. As far as she could tell they were Preel, Ja’an and Oourl. Ja’an’s name took the longest to master, trying to get the appropriate pause between vowels.
Sophia found herself at a bit of an impasse. If they’d asked her to take them to their leader, she certainly hadn’t understood it. And Paul still hadn’t returned. But that didn’t mean they could just stand in the doorway feeling awkward.
She stepped away from the door and gestured inside. “Won’t you please come in?”
The living room was not the most impressive room in the house, but it was the most comfortable, and had the widest range of furniture, overstuffed leather chairs and a chez lounge among other things. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of furniture would be most comfortable for them, but if any room had it, it would be the living room. And the first rule of being a good hostess was to make your guests comfortable. Not to show off the antique Louis XVI furniture in the drawing room.
The aliens followed, their copper eyes darting curiously side to side, taking everything in. Sophia noted with satisfaction that they were all careful not to touch any of her antiques, proving her theory that the aliens were polite and respectful. They murmured softly to each other as they walked, their tentacles making a soft shushing sound on the plush carpeting.
She admired their gliding movements. There was no awkwardness or stiltedness to their motions. She was sure that they would be able to balance a 12 volume encyclopedia on their heads without breaking a sweat.
In the living room Sophia said, “Please make yourselves at home.” She sat down for a moment on the leather couch, to provide a visual aid, and then gestured at all the seats in the room. Did they even sit down? She wondered. Did they even have a spine?
The aliens conversed among themselves for a moment then they gathered around the glass coffee table, twisting their lower tentacles into a tight rope and singing down like a collapsing telescope. Now they reminded her of squat magenta bowling pins…with fringe. “Oh.” Was all she said.
There was an awkward pause which Sophia filled by saying “I’m so very glad you could come.” The aliens watched her with their bright unblinking eyes. “This is probably the most exciting event since the moon landing. Everyone will be so thrilled. May I get you anything?”
But of course they didn’t understand. One of the four, Oourl, she believed, kept fiddling with a small device that looked similar to Paul’s PDA.
Sophia hesitated, coffee or tea? Or something else altogether? Finally she decided on tea. It was, after all, the most universal and civilized drink on earth. If she were to introduce any aspect of earth culture, it would probably be the best.
“Please excuse me for a moment. I’ll just get us something to drink.”
In the kitchen she set the water to boil. Putting it in the microwave would have been quicker, but some things had to be done properly, and this was one of them. It might be acceptable for making herself a quick cup in the dark hours of the night, but not for visiting dignitaries. She pulled out the good silver, the delicate porcelain cups with a faint patterning of roses. But she couldn’t find the tea itself to save her life.
Sophia crept back towards the hall closet. “Noemi? Do you know where we keep the tea?”
“Which tea?” came the muffled, shaky voice.
“The good kind, the Lapsang Souchong my sister brought back from her trip to London. I could swear it was in the left hand cupboard.”
“It’s on the second shelf, Mrs. Ballister. Behind the spices.”
“Thank you, Noemi,” Sophia turned to go and paused. “Would you like me to make you a cup as well? It might calm your nerves.”
There was a long silence from the closet. “Are those…things still out there, Mrs. Ballister?”
“Yes, but they don’t seem to mean any harm. It’s perfectly safe to come out.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Ma’am, I’ll just say right here.”
Sophia shrugged, “That’s fine, Noemi.”
She returned to the kitchen and found the tea right where Noemi said it would be. Fabulous memory, they really had to keep her on. Just as she placed the tea caddy on the tray the kettle began to whistle. Perfect. Sophia washed the pot out with a bit of the hot water to warm it, then filled it up. It was an extra large pot, especially good for large parties.
Sophia carried the tray out to the living room, the aliens rotating in place to track her movements, still burbling softly to themselves. She liked the sound of the language, even if she was sure she could never reproduce it. It reminded her of a murmuring brook, or a pigeon’s coo. She often thought you could tell a lot about people by the sound of their language. French simply SOUNDED sophisticated, romantic; Spanish fast-paced and hot tempered; German harsh and foreboding. And English, well, it may have been her personal bias, but English was the greatest of all, rich, expressive, sometimes coarse, but sometimes magnificent. Listening to the aliens, Sophia decided that her instincts must be right and these beings must be trustworthy.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she told them, “but I hope you will enjoy this.”
Clour’s eyes darted over the tea service, a tentacle hovered over the teapot. The eyes darted up to Sophia and it said one word, like a bubble rising to the surface with a pop.
“Water,” Sophia clarified. She poured a small amount into a cup to show them. “I understand it’s one thing that makes the Earth so special. We have quite a lot of it. Be careful, it’s hot.” She mimed touching the water and pulling her hand back in pain. It was a bit silly, perhaps, but better than the aliens getting scalded and creating an inter-galactic incident.
The aliens swiveled towards each other. One of them, Ja’an? Yes, the one with the violet eye-shadow emitted a tittering sound that sounded distinctly like a giggle. Sophia fought a blush even though she suspected they were talking about the water and not her charades.
Clearing her throat self-consciously she opened the tea caddy. The rich aroma filled the room. Using the accompanying spoon she tapped a small amount onto a saucer. “This is tea. Tea. It’s very healthy, almost everyone on the planet drinks it in one form or another.”
Preel pulled an instrument out of a bag, looking something like a combination of a turkey-baster and a curling iron, plated in chrome. The five forward-most tentacles curled up, in and out, like an apologetic S, then gestured at the tea leaves.
“Oh goodness no, please do test it. I would hate to discover you’re allergic.” Sophia gestured for the alien to go ahead.
It was fascinating to watch as Preel expertly twisted a dial, pulled at the bulb and took readings from the tea. The alien’s movements were delicate and precise, not the rampant flounderings you would see in a movie. They were almost…elegant?
As the readings came up Preel burbled excitedly, the round syllables practically tripping over each other in the effort to get out. Preel turned back to Sophia and dipped as Clour had done earlier; a ‘yes.’ Only in Preel’s excitement the alien dipped multiple times, like a bobbing apple. It was indescribably cute.
Confident now she spooned the tea leaves into the water and covered the lid. “It will just take a few minutes to steep.” She told them. Sophia picked up the teapot and swirled it gently counter-clockwise, a trick she’d picked up from her grandmother.
“Tea is really very healthy, you know. It’s even slightly disinfectant. The tannins are especially good for you. I read about it in the New Yorker. If you’re here for trade relations, tea might be an excellent import.”
A good hostess was supposed to keep the conversation flowing, but that was nigh impossible with the language barrier. Sophia wished she’d thought to serve them the Silver Needle tea, or Jasmine. Those would have only taken a minute to steep properly.
(little bit of filler here)
When the tea finished brewing, Sophia poured the clear red-brown liquid out into the cups, just a tiny bit into each. The rich smell of the tea made Sophia close her eyes and sigh in pleasure. “I don’t know how you take your tea, so you really ought to try it plain first. It’s a bit bitter.”
She lifted her own cup to her lips and took an infinitesimally small sip as an example. Sophia abhorred tea without either lemon or honey, something to blunt the bitter taste. It was a personal flaw.
Hesitantly the aliens picked up their own cups. Oourl inhaled deeply, eyes half closed in an imitation of Sophia’s appreciation. They all took small sips. Like Oourl, Clour seemed to enjoy the taste, but Ja’an’s face pinched up. “Tak!”
Sophia smiled gently. “Yes, I know. I don’t care for it much plain either. Don’t worry, everyone can learn to love tea, we just need to experiment until you find out how you prefer it.”
Without even thinking about it she reached out and patted Ja’an on the tentacle in a comforting way. Surprised with herself she jumped back. “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t been rude.”
Ja’an made the tittering sound again and said a bubbling sentence, swishing tentacles in what Sophia could only interpret as a ‘not at all’ gesture.
Absently, Sophia rubbed her fingers together. The alien’s skin was softer than she expected, like crushed velvet. There was a trace of bright sparkles on her palm, rubbed off from the alien’s body paint.
Preel took another small sip and put down the cup, the apologetic tentacle motion curving up again.
Sophia turned back to the tea tray and began to lay out the rest of the service. The tea was still steeping, and she knew that the second cup would be darker, and more bitter, but this time she would teach them how to counter it.
“This is sugar. It’s very sweet. We use it to soften the bitter flavor. Personally I prefer honey, sugar seems to saccharine for my tastes, but sugar is the more traditional sweetener. Sugar.” She tapped the sugar pot. She spooned out a small helping into Ja’an’s cup and urged it back into the alien’s tentacles.
With great reluctance Ja’an took another sip. But this time the alien’s eyes lit up and up bubbled a round toned word, certainly the opposite of the sharp negative “Tak!” sound.
The other aliens eagerly sampled from Ja’an’s cup. Only Oourl seemed to prefer it plain. Sophia was feeling giddy with triumph. She always enjoyed playing the hostess. There was great satisfaction in making sure that everyone enjoyed themselves at a party or dinner. But none of that even began to touch on THIS. And she hadn’t even been prepared! Imagine what she could have come up with with a little warning!
“Now,” she said, moving to the next dish, “this is milk. Preel, you might want to check this as well. Some people here are intolerant to it. I wouldn’t want you to needlessly suffer the same.” She nodded to the strange device Preel used before.
With another dip, Preel held the device to the small milk pitcher, hooking it down under the lid. But after only a moment the alien lowered the device, shaking tentacles in a discouraging way. Preel apologetically pushed the pitcher away, back towards Sophia.
“That’s quite all right. I don’t take milk with my tea either.” Sophia took the pitcher and put it back on the tray where it would be out of the way. Then she pushed forward the last dish. “This is lemon. A sour fruit. We don’t often eat it, but it is very popular for flavoring or seasoning other foods.”
Ja’an eagerly reached forward and took one of the water thin slices, probably assuming that it was another sweet. But upon tasting it, the offending lemon slice was hurriedly spat back out into Ja’an’s saucer with another “Tak!”
This time Clour, whom Sophia was already thinking of with special favoritism, rose up a little and burbled sharply. The only word of which Sophia could understand was “Ja’an!” Then the alien turned back to Sophia with an apologetic curl and said something else.
“It’s really no problem. The young don’t always grasp the finer points of etiquette right away, do they?” She said, taking a guess. Remembering Ja’an’s earlier wave she tried to imitate the motion.
Some of the tension left Clour’s frame, but the alien berated Ja’an one last time. Ja’an shrunk down contritely and mumbled some sort of apology.
“You’re completely forgiven, Dear. Think nothing of it. If we could only understand each other better you’d have been better warned.” She brought herself back to the task at hand and gestured to Preel’s cup. “May I?” at the alien’s permission she used the small tongs and added two lemon slices to the cup, floating like miniature lily pads. After waiting a moment to let the flavor release she turned the cup back to Preel. “Here, try it like this.”
With a sideways look at Ja’an, Preel took a sip. Luckily for Sophia’s nerves the alien did not spit it back out, but trilled a small ‘L’ sound and took another sip.
Again the cup was passes around, and all but Ja’an tried the lemon tea. Sophia smiled to herself and poured four fresh cups of tea, a normal portion this time. She collected the half finished cups and set them back on the tray. “There,” she said, “Now you may take your tea any way you like.”
Oourl was the only one to prefer the tea plain. Clour added lemon, Ja’an sugar and Preel a touch of both. Not wanting the lemon to go to waste Sophia added that to her own cup. She was just starting to think of a new topic for conversation when she heard noises from the front hall.
“Sophie? Sophie! Are you there? Are you all right!?” Paul’s strident voice boomed down the hallway.
“Will you excuse me please?” With a nod to her guests she walked out to the foyer.
Paul stood there looking quite undone, his neat salt and peppering hair disheveled, though she couldn’t imagine how it came to be that way. Standing with him was Mayor Frobisher and the Chief of Police.
When he saw her, Paul rushed forward and gripped her by the arms. “Sophie! Are you all right? Are those monsters still here? Are you—?”
Sophia calmly detached his grip and laid a palm on his cheek. She noted guiltily that it was the same one she’d touched Ja’an with and now Paul’s cheek was streaked with violet glitter. “Paul, calm down. I’m fine. And please keep your voice down. I don’t want to alarm our guests.” Using her other hand she patted his shoulder and tried to be a comforting rock.
She turned to the mayor. “Mayor Frobisher, delightful to see you. You’ve lost weight since the New Year’s party I see.”
The mayor frowned, his moustache hiding pursed lips as if he thought she were being silly. “What’s all this nonsense about aliens? Mrs. Ballister, if you and your husband weren’t such staunch contributors to the campaign…”
“I understand. It does stretch credibility, doesn’t it? But I assure you that there really are aliens in the living room.”
“You let them in the house!?”
She turned to her husband incredulously. “You expect me to leave intergalactic representatives waiting on the doorstep!? Really, Paul! No, we’ve just been having tea. Come in and let me introduce you.”
The police chief rolled his eyes and sighed in away that screamed he thought he was wasting his time. Sophia froze him with an icy glare and decided he would NOT be invited to any function SHE held.
When they walked into the living room the aliens swiveled as one to regard the additions to the party. Taking one look at the magenta tentacles and long bright eyes the Mayor squeaked, “My God!” and toppled backwards over a footstool. The police chief looked distinctly weak in the knees and Paul’s face paled to an unhealthy taupe. It was unworthy of her, but Sophia couldn’t’ help being just a little satisfied at their panic. Who said women were the weaker sex? While Paul helped the mayor get back on his feet Sophia gestured the aliens over.
“Mayor Frobisher? May I introduce you to Clour, Oourl, Preel and Ja’an? My pronunciation may not be very good.” She gestured to the aliens who all bobbed as they were introduced.
“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Mayor Aaron Frobisher. He is, well, I suppose you could say he’s our leader.”
The mayor smiled wanly, “How do you do.”
“This is the Chief of Police, Eric Hobsbawn. And of course, you’ve already met my husband, Paul.”
“Nice to meet you,” Paul said bravely. Sophia squeezed his shoulder in thanks.
Suddenly the PDA at Oourl’s side pinged sharply. She pulled it out eagerly and opened it lengthwise. Inside were four small discs and four tiny spheres. Oourl hurriedly passed these out to the others, slipping the disc under her tongue and placing the sphere in a depression at the back of the jaw that Sophia realized must be an ear.
Clearing her throat slightly, Oourl stepped forward. “Forgive us for not speaking before,” she said in perfectly clear English, It takes some time for our translating device to collect enough of a sample to be effective, and your language was unexpectedly complex.”
“Oh how lovely, you can speak English now!” In her glee she grasped two of Oourl’s tentacles as she would one of her dearest friends.
Oourl’s eyes crinkled in pleasure. “Yes. I am pleased we can finally communicate effectively.”
Clour stepped closer, drawing up to her full height. “We are a delegation from the Alclol people, sent to establish diplomatic and trade relations with this planet. As Soh-Feah has apparently told you, I am Clour, the ambassador. This is my retinue, Preel, Oourl, and Ja’an.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” the mayor mumbled hollowly.
“We apologize for intruding so abruptly.”
“Not at all,” the mayor wheezed.
Sophia was almost dancing in delight. How exciting! How wonderful! History being made right here in her living room. She’d have to have Paul make a plaque for the house. ‘Alien Dignitaries Stayed Here.’ And of course the house itself would become a historical landmark. They’d have to renovate.
“Is it with you we should arrange our treaty?” Clour asked the mayor.
His eyes glazed over with the thought of arranging an intergalactic treaty. “N-no, no I’m afraid that goes quite a bit higher than me. I-I think you’ll have to speak to the President in Washington.”
Clour considered this and bobbed in agreement. “I don’t wish to press, but it would be best to begin talks swiftly.”
“Of course, of course. Let me, ah, make a few calls.” He nodded in apology, flipping open his cell phone and walking to the door. Sophia heard him mumble, “No one, NO ONE is going to believe this.” The police chief was still frozen in shock.
Preel laid a tentacle across Sophia’s hand. “We want to thank you so much for your welcome. This has been the most hospitable reception we’ve had on any planet.”
Sophia blushed, blushed! She hadn’t in years. “Coming from such gracious guests that is truly a compliment. It has been my pleasure to have you here as my guests.”
“May we come again?” Ja’an asked, her voice almost an octave higher than the others.
Sophia smiled. “Of course! You are all welcome any time. I can’t remember a more enjoyable afternoon. And now that I know you have such a sweet tooth, Ja’an, I’m sure I can come up with a more palatable menu.”
“Do not encourage the young one, please,” Clour said in a dry tone of voice. “She is in training, but I fear she will never learn proper discipline if she is catered to in that way.” Three tentacles draped over Ja’an in a familiar sort of way that belied the teasing words. Sophia wisely held her tongue.
Clour turned to Oourl. “Do you have one of the samples of quescha we brought?”
“Of course.”
Oourl passed the item to Clour in such a way that Sophia couldn’t see it. Clour straightened again in a dignified manner. “In return for your hospitality we would like to offer you this as a small token of our appreciation.” She uncurled her tentacle to show a small gem. It was smooth and milky, a bright cerulean with smoothly shifting violets and greens, like an opal seen through gauze. It almost seemed to glow under the lights. “It’s not much to offer I know. Quescha has no extraordinary properties other than that it is pretty and somewhat rare. But it has been a useful item for trade and we hoped it would prove the same here.”
Eyes wide, Sophia shook her head. “I’m sure it will, it’s lovely. But I couldn’t. Not for such a small thing. It was really my honor to play the hostess. I really don’t need anything than that.”
Oourl’s eyes twinkled again in amusement. “Soh-Feah, is it not rude in your culture to refuse a gift?”
Sophia laughed, caught off guard. “Well then, thank you.” She took the small stone, unexpectedly warm and heavy in her hand. “I will treasure it, and the memory of today always. I do hope that your schedules will allow you to come back for a visit.”
“We wish that as well,” Preel said, “This time has been very pleasant."
Later that night, after the aliens were safely on their way to Washington, and all the TV stations were carrying the news, Sophia and Paul took their drinks to the deck out back and looked up at the clear night sky. Sophia didn’t know the shapes or the names of the constellations, but she had a new interest in learning them.
She looked at the queshca gem in the moonlight, tilting it to watch the flow of colors. Tomorrow she would take it to that little gallery in Rodchester and have them make something out of it. A necklace, she decided.
Paul wrapped one arm around her shoulders; thumb tracing a small circle against the fabric. “You handled yourself like a duchess today,” he said, “no, like a queen. Braver than I was.”
She smiled and leaned back against his chest. “Well would you come halfway across the galaxy just to attack at first sight? I was just being polite.”
“Well, I’m proud of you, my Sophie.” He paused, taking a drink, “Just one question. How did you figure out that they were all women?”
Sophia smiled and turned to her husband. “That’s simple, Paul, they all behaved like perfect ladies.”
