Fall To Earth

A loud noise wakes me from my sleep; I bet you that's Mr Walters mowing his lawn again. He did it last weekend! I groan into my pillow, turn over, and hope I don't hear the sound gain.
"Zelle? Are you up? I'm off to pilates." Mum says, poking her head into my bedroom.
"No. I'm not."
"I think Mr Walter's lawn mower just exploded." Mum laughs. It's not funny.
"Not funny." I groan.
"Get up. It's nine thirty."
"I've just finished exams. A girl's allowed to sleep."
"Laziness doesn't get girls jobs." Mum says, before leaving and skipping down the stairs. I'm going into science.
Our house is a five-bedroom, cream-rendered, French-windowed property nestled in the secure, affluent, inner south of Melbourne. Dad is in eugenics, genetics, biology, and evolution, and mum is in hypnotherapy and alternative therapies.
Mum is French and Dad is German and they met when they were both at uni in the eighties way before I was born. I am an only child. We have a dog called Chauer. He is a two-year-old Cavoodle, and right now he is barking like crazy. Probably because Mr Walter's lawn mower just died.
I drag my slim frame out of bed and throw my satin dressing gown over my shoulders. I tie the ribbon tightly around my waist; toned because of gymnastics. I've been doing somersaults and handstands since I was three. Mum is French; I can't compete with her. She's fifty, and has the figure of a twenty-year-old. You should see her abs. Do I want to be her? Yes. The pressure is real.
I'm tall. Like 5"11. The height helps. If I put on a kilo or three it isn't very noticeable.
Jesus. Chauer is still barking. What is he barking at? I run to the glass sliding door in our kitchen, and swing it open so fast it almost falls off its track.
"Chauer – what are you barking at?!" I demand to know. He comes running over to me, and motions for me to follow him. His little tail swings about crazily as he tries to give me the urgent news. He takes me onto the tennis court, where nothing is happening. I thought maybe the gardener had arrived, but no.
"No gardener today silly." I say, scrunching my fingers in his fur. He furrows his eyebrows at me, and runs into the hedge to investigate.
"Chauer – it's probably just a squirrel. Come on. Come inside for some breakfast." I plead.
"Zelle – is that you love?" Mrs Walters asks me from over the twelve-foot-tall fence.
"Yes, Mrs Walters. It's me."
"Did you hear that awful bang?"
"I did Mrs Walters. Was that not your lawn mower?"
"No darling. Derrick did his knee in last Saturday. I told him to leave it to the gardeners."
"Oh. I wonder what it was..." I say, as I watch Chauer barking at invisible air on the court.
"Chauer! Stop it! There's nothing there. Stop it. Inside. Now." I scoop him up and take him inside, and plonk him on the tiles near his food bowl so I can give him some breakfast.
I flick the kettle on to make myself an instant latte and wonder what the loud bang could have been. Maybe I'll hit a few balls on the court today and if it happens again, I'll be there and can tell Dad to check it out later. Whatever it is. I check out my socials. Instagram first and foremost. I would have to have a normal job without it. What would my 400K followers do without me?
After finishing my latte, I run upstairs, take a shower, and pull on a Nike tshirt and some gym pants. I hastily collect my blonde waves up in a scrunchie, get my tennis racket from the cupboard in the hall, and hit the court. I flick the switch on the automatic tennis ball machine and run to my side of the court where I like serving best. Chauer has watched me and the machine game it out so many times, he has stopped barking at it every time it ejects a ball. He plonks himself on the ground behind the white line (he knows), and rests his jaw on his front paws. He sighs.
"Why are you so dejected Chauer?" I ask rhetorically, and swing my forearm back and bring it forward to whack the bright yellow sphere hurtling toward me at a speed of 60 kilometres per hour. I hit it into the front left-hand corner of the hedge and Chauer runs off to rescue it from the evil green hedge monster.
He toddles back to the machine, waits for it to putt, and then drops the ball into the chute, knowing he won't have to suffer the loud noise it makes. He has worked out its timing. Smart puppa.
On about my seventh serve I backhand-serve into the right-hand corner of our hedge, and scream when the ball ricochets off invisible air and flies back toward me.
"What the?" I pull out my phone to film it. Chauer barks. He doesn't rescue that ball.
I hit the red dot on my video app, swing my right forearm back again and whack another tennis ball into that same direction; my iphone captures the ricochet perfectly. What is it ricocheting off? And what is that noise? There's nothing there. Literally nothing. I've walked through that space back and forth in many different directions and I feel and see nothing. I upload it to tiktok. I get instant comments on my video:
Videoshop right there.
Nothing new here.
This has been done before.
How? There's nothing there!
What is it hitting? I don't get it.
I explain that I haven't photoshopped it, and I am just as confused as everyone else is. By ten o'clock I have had 7Kviews and 19K likes. I leave a trail of love hearts, thank yous, and emojis in the comments, and stick my iphone in my bra. I switch the machine off, and go to the area where Chauer refused to collect the tennis balls. Some have rolled into the leafy detritus under the green hedge bordering the court.
"Chauer – help me out will you? I can't get in there." I say. Chauer toddles over warily, stops, sits, stares at me and then barks softly.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I say, with my bum in the air, as I lean on my palms in the dirt trying to reach a tennis ball buried deep in the hedge.
The tennis ball floats into my hand. I scoot backwards out from under that hedge so fast, land on my bum and scrape the skin off my hands. Shit. I wince in pain. A figure appears before me. I freeze. My eyes go wide. Mouth agape; I'm staring. My brain is trying to process what I'm looking at.
He is tall and broad shouldered. His traps and biceps are to die for. His hair is a messy black and his brow bone is super prominent. His eyes are very big, dark, and deep – they hold my gaze for way too long. He is wearing dark blue jeans, a light blue tshirt, and sneakers.
"Are you okay?" He asks me, with his hand held out to help me up. My jaw is locked. I can't respond. I don't take his hand.
He exhales, and there's a million pieces of his soul in that one exhalation.
Any hotter and I'll melt into this court.
"How long have you been in the hedge? And how did you fit?" I ask him, slowly standing up, and wiping grit from my palms on my lycra leggings.
"Mmm. Not long. I fit just fine." He replies. He doesn't smile. I think he is wary of me too.
"I am." He says, a small smile forming in the corner of his mouth.
"Excuse me?" I ask. Did he just read my thoughts?
"I did." He says softly. My eyes go wide.
"Don't be scared. You're okay. You're not going crazy."
My jaw is locked again. I'm blinking rapidly but can't help it. Even Chauer is frozen as he sits between my feet. This guy looks at him, mesmerized and amused.
"Is that a dog?" He asks.
"Yes." I say. Has he not seen a dog before?
"No. I haven't." He responds to my thoughts – again.
"Can you please stop that?"
"Yes. Sorry." He really is sorry. I inhale deeply and exhale quickly.
"You're stressed and confused. Sit down." He says, and I sit on the court.
"Do you have a name?" I manage to ask.
"Ox. You?"
"Zelle."
"Thanks."
"Do you live around here?" I ask curious.
"No." He says, sitting in front of me, his knees bent, and his elbows resting on them.
"Where are you from?" I ask.
"Not from here." He says. He sounds like he is wincing with every word. He frowns and looks away.
"What do you mean when you say here?" I ask.
"Earth." He says, without looking at me. My jaw locks, my brain goes fuzzy, and Chauer climbs into my lap. Wait. He is joking. He isn't serious.
"I am serious." He stares at me, and I feel as though his eyes pierce my thoughts and feelings without my permission. His aura is warm and sweet, if a bit intimidating.
"I need to go inside." I say, out of breath, confused, and anxious. I walk off the court and toward the house.
"I need help. I'm lost." Ox says, trailing behind me. Chauer is baring his teeth at him over my shoulder. Ox stares into Chauer's eyes and relaxes him. The teeth-baring stops. Chauer's tongue dangles out of his mouth like a happy puppa.
"Do not look at my dog." I tell him. I go through the french doors, locking him outside. I pull down the blinds so I can't see him.
"Don't." He says, suddenly standing in front of me. Did. He. Just. Walk. Through. The. Doors? Like THROUGH the doors?
"Yes. I did. Please don't call the police. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm just lost." He says, his eyes pleading with me.
"I don't know you. And you're scaring the shit out of me. I'll lend you my phone. Call your parents or whoever. And get out of my house!" I scream. It isn't me. I hope it scares him.
"Calm down please."
"Okay. You. Ox. Go sit over there! In that chair! I need space. I can't think... you read my mind!" I screech.
"Sorry. Is now a bad time to ask for water?" He smirks. He is being smart.
"No. Yes." I scramble for a glass in the cupboard, fill it with tap water and hand it to him. He downs it in one. He's super thirsty.
"Can I please have more?" He asks way too politely. He smiles and he has dimples. Oh no.
I sit on a dining room chair and rest my chin on the chair back. Tears fall down my cheeks. A very strange, out of this world guy who can float tennis balls, read my thoughts and walk through doors is in my dining room. What do I do with him? God help me. I'm not religious. But please God help me! I'm only seventeen. I don't know what to do.
"Don't cry. Please don't cry." He says, kneeling on the floor in front of me. He stares at my tears.
What is in my tennis court? What did my tennis balls bounce off?
"My pod."
"Your what?" I stutter.
"My spacepod." He explains casually.
"Is your spacepod invisible?" I ask. Has he taken acid or something?
"No it's not invisible. I just switched off it's particles to hide it from you. Your tennis balls caught me out. I haven't taken acid."
"What planet are you on? What are you?" I blurt out.
"I'm an advanced human." He is crouching inches from my face.
"You can't be that advanced; you've never seen a dog."
"I have now. They're cute."
"Some breeds are. Cavoodles are." Chauer jumps into my lap.
"He is cautious of me."
"He is. Where are you from? How old are you?" I ask.
"s24. Eighteen."
"What does that mean? It sounds like baby formula!" I laugh.
"It's where I live. It's a ship. A spaceship."
"Like Star Trek?" Oh dear.
"Not like Star Trek." He laughs.
"Do you have parents? Siblings? Pets?" I ask.
"Yeah." He says and smiles. I'm surprised. He knows how to be coy and flirt with me. He is actually charming.
"Sexual attraction is universal Zelle."
"Universal?"
"You need to sleep. I've told you too much." Ox says, walking through the french doors outside.