“Well, then why don’t you give aliens a chance? They could exist, but you’re just completely writing them off.”
I couldn’t believe I was actually having this conversation. Why were we even talking about this? The annoying part was there was something about Afric’s attitude that riled me up, and while I’d attempted not to argue with her, I couldn’t help it.
“Okay, so how about this,” I said, and her blue eyes lit when she saw I’d become worked up. “If they do exist, then why haven’t they made contact? And why are the people who claim to see them always hicks who live out in the middle of nowhere with too much time on their hands?”
Afric sat back, folding her arms as she smirked at me. Her smirk was entirely too aggravating, especially because it caused two ridiculously mischievous dimples to appear in her cheeks. “That’s not true. There are plenty of eyewitness accounts from pilots and respected military personnel. It’s not all hicks, as you call them,” she responded. “And besides, how do you know they haven’t made contact? Perhaps they have, and the government is keeping it all under wraps.”
“I might actually get the sashimi. It sounds delicious,” Michaela went on, her shoulders tense. She was clearly worried about us getting into a full-blown argument, and we’d only just met. I couldn’t help it, though. This woman irritated me, and that was saying something because I barely knew anything about her.
“Yes, and I’m sure all those respected individuals are getting lucrative book deals and television interviews to talk about what they saw,” I shot back.
“Just because a person is getting paid doesn’t mean they’re lying,” she countered.
“Do you know what? I might even get a glass of plum wine,” Michaela commented, but I barely paid her any attention. This woman, Afric, aggravated me, and I was suddenly determined to win our little debate.
“Okay, let’s say they’re telling the truth,” I said. “Why haven’t the aliens come out and shown themselves to everyone? Why only a select few?”
She threw her hands up in the air, her tone sarcastic, “Oh, I don’t know. Because humanity has always been so kind and accepting to those who are different. Besides, have you ever considered that beings from another planet might be so far advanced that there would be no point trying to talk to us? It’d be like a human going into a field and trying to have a conversation with a cow. It just wouldn’t work. Cows can’t speak. Maybe the difference between humans and aliens is that vast. Maybe they’re here to observe us, the same way we observe animals in the wild, but they aren’t going to get involved in our daily lives because that’s not what they’re about.”
Michaela’s phone buzzed, and she busied herself responding to a text while I continued eyeing Afric. She wore a triumphant smile, and I couldn’t believe I’d allowed her to get under my skin discussing a subject I had little-to-no interest in. What was wrong with me today? Perhaps running Callum’s social media was stressing me more than it normally did.
I glanced at Afric one last time, realising that arguing with her wasn’t going to get me anywhere. And that was why I didn’t respond to her counterpoint. Instead, I glanced down and frowned intently at my menu.
A moment later, the waiter arrived, and we made our orders. Afric must’ve sensed my disinterest in talking to her further because she focused on chatting with Michaela about how things were going for her at work.
“Well, this was great,” Michaela said with a forced smile as we finished up lunch. My co-worker was clearly too polite to mention the awkwardness that had ensued after my and Afric’s argument.
Afric pulled Michaela into a hug. “Yeah, see you later,” she said, casting me a small, curious glance before she turned to wave down an approaching taxi. The taxi stopped by the kerb, and Afric climbed in.
“Well,” Michaela said, folding her arms. “I guess you won’t be coming to lunch with Afric and me again any time soon.”
I shot her an arch look. “You’ve guessed correctly.”
Michaela chuckled. “I warned you she wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea.”
“Seems appropriate that I’ve always preferred coffee,” I replied, and we made our way back to the gym.
Hours later, I was still irritable when I arrived at my grandma’s house for dinner. My younger sister, Rosie, still lived with her since she’d raised us after our parents passed away. I had my own place in the city, but I preferred to eat here rather than prepare a meal for one and eat alone in my sad little flat. Besides, nothing could beat Grandma’s cooking.
I smelled the shepherd’s pie as soon as I stepped in the door, and my mood improved substantially. As expected, my lunch hadn’t gone down very well. I liked sushi, but it’d probably be a while before I could stomach it again. What a horribly rude, argumentative woman. And what kind of name was “Afric” anyway?