Captured By Aliens (Green, Smelly, Oily)

 

The Truth Almost Comes out, Sheila?

 

By Thelma Mary Caroline

 

 

It was a clever plan.  Sheila had sent Kade and Haichelle to the grocery store, while Blaise helped her clean out the gutters.

 

Blaise didn't seem too happy with Hai leaving, but Kade had promised to take good care of her.

 

"I really appreciate your help," Sheila said, bagging leaves.  "I can't ever get Kade to do it."

 

"No problem.  I'm glad I can help, really."

 

"So tell me more about your job."

 

Blaise's eyes narrowed a little.  But her voice stays compleatly normal.  "You mean fishing in Canada?  What about it?"

 

"What was the name of your boat?"

 

"The Not For Hire."

 

"And what was it like, really?"

 

Blaise smiled smugly.  "Eight weeks.  That was the season.  But fifty thousand dollars, who could turn that kind of money down?  Maybe that's not why I went, but who cares.  We all know I want to be a millionaire when I grow up."

 

Sheila just nodded, trying not to reveil her confusion.  Why was Blaise holding to a story?

 

"It's one of the most dangerous jobs in the world though, did you know that?  My shipmates were crushing fingers, breaking legs.  It seemed like every day someone tumbled over board.  I worked twenty one hours a day, and most people can't do that.  They get exhausted to the point of breakdown.  I'll still go back, though, if I get the chance."

 

The knowledge caught Sheila off gaurd.  Had Blaise really done it?  No, no she must have just read up about it.  Then a thought hit the woman.

 

"So you became a Canadian then?  Don't you have to be one to get a work permit?"

 

"It's easier just to marry a Canadian," Blaise answered, without the least bit of pause.  "Yes, sir.  I'm married to a Canadian.  Jane, or Joan.  Something that starts with a J.  Jan?"

 

"Not Haichelle?" Shelia asked, somewhat surprised.  Maybe this story was better thought out than she thought.

 

"Oh, Hai's not Canadian either.  But she knows French.  That's how she got a license."

 

Interesting. But there was something else that bothered Sheila. 

 

"And the two of you met on the Not For Hire?  She doesn't really seem strong enough for that kind of work."

 

"Yeah, she was the cook," Blaise answered.  Then she winked at Sheila.  "It's good to charm the girls that can fix meals."

 

"She doesn't -- You don't really seem like her type, you know."

 

It was clear that Blaise understood the meaning.  She glared at Sheila for a moment, then looked away. 

 

"So it was a mistake," She says after a long time.  "We're just trying to make it work out."

 

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather tell me the truth?" Sheila asked, trying to make her gaze unescapible.

 

"You're going to feel really bad when the pictures come back and you find out I'm not lying."

 

Sheila considered backing off for a moment.  If the need to lie was so great ... there must have been something to truelly protect.

 

"You know what really bothers me the most?" Sheila said softly.  "Not that you were gone six months.  Not that you won't tell anyone that you're back.  Not that you want me to keep it a secret that you're living in my house.  It bothers me the most that you have to lie about where you were!  Tell me the truth, is it really that bad?  Is that why you've put together this incredible story?  Is it that bad?"

 

"Let's face it, Sheila.  You'd never believe any story I gave you.  Even if it was the truth."

 

And the woman considered that for a moment.  "No, I suppose not."

 

"Come with me and Kade and Hai to Thursday's tonight," Blaise said, going back to her work.  "All of us (from the fishing boat) are going to be there.  You'll find your truth, I expect."

 

"And you won't hunt me down and kill me?"

 

"Hardly," the fisher answered, before doubt clouded her face for the briefest of moments.  "At least, I don't think so."