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Peering into my microscope, I could see the taumoeba swim lazily around the slide. The newest batch of these nitrogen resistant suckers was progressing smoothly. My half had already been sent off to Earth but Rocky and I continued to develop his strand. It’s not like we had anything else to do. We’ve been cruising towards Erid for a year now and ever since my “Save Earth” adrenaline wore off, I’ve found myself quite bored.
Rocky won’t admit it, but I suspect he feels the same. Still peering in the microscope, I can hear him tinkering around his workshop. At least he can occupy his free time designing my “human dome” as he likes to call it. The most he needs from me is fact checking. Things like, how big is sand on Earth, or how do waves work? To distract myself from the boredom of a 3-year road trip, I've relegated myself to taumoeba duty. I mean, someone has to check on them. Maybe not as often as I do but I can pretend it’s a necessity.
Blindly reaching for a pencil, my worldview still microscopic, I jot down a few messy notes, hoping it’ll be legible later. Upon doting what I think is a cohesive sentence, I feel a tickle in my nose. My immediate thought is allergies but quickly remember there’s not a dog for 11.9 light years.
Something wet glides down my face. “Gross,” I think, wiping my nose.
Finally pulling away from the microscope, I reach for the glass plate. I’m stopped by the sight of blood. A small red smear on my sleeve. I spend a moment staring silently.
“Huh.”
At that moment, blood begins to pour out of my nose.
My hand instinctively flies up to my face, trying to stop the leak. It doesn’t take long for blood to seep through my fingers. Pushing against the table, I stand and hurry over to the cabinets against the wall, frantically looking for tissues.
From behind, I hear a questioning note and freeze.
I forgot Rocky was in the room.
“What is Grace doing, question?”
He can’t see my face, but he can definitely see me scrunched up suspiciously against the wall.
“Uhhhh grabbing a new coverslip,” I respond, forcing a cheery tone.
“No. Grace lie,” he says, tapping his hand against the paneled wall for emphasis.
Damn. He can see right through me. Literally. With a sigh, I spin on my heels to face him. I slowly pull back my bloodied hand to reveal my equally bloodied face. I smile. I’m pretty sure my teeth are red.
Rocky goes totally still. If he had eyes, I feel like one would be twitching. We stay like this for a while. Rocky staring while a trickle of blood flows down my face.
Eventually I break the silence.
“It’s called a nose-”
“AHHHHHHHH! Grace die!? Die?! DIE?! Why leaking blood, question!” He shouts, skittering around his workshop, knocking tools in every direction.
I wave my hands in the air. Probably not a good idea when they’re red with blood. “No, no no, I’m not dying! Don’t worry! It’s just a nosebleed!”
Rocky does not listen. He propels himself into his ball and quickly rolls my direction, bumping into chairs and equipment.
“Why Grace bleed, question?! Grace hurt!” he says, answering his own question. He comes to a screeching stop in front of me and bumps my ankles, pushing me to sit down. I feel like I’m being herded. I comply and sit down at my station, my hand returning to my face.
“Rocky, I’m not dying! It’s just a nosebleed. Humans get them all the time.”
“Explain. Explain nosebleed,” he replies, pacing in front of my chair.
“Before I do,” I stop to wipe my nose, “could you grab me some paper?”
“Yes! Rocky fix,” he responds, hurrying towards the cabinets.
The blood flow stays steady, creeping through my fingers and down my hand. I can’t remember the last time I got a nosebleed. Not that I have crystal clear memories of my Earth days anyway.
Rocky returns with a handful of tissues bunched together in the malleable panel of his ball. He thrusts it in my direction and I gratefully accept. With my hand no longer holding back the floodgates, I can feel the blood beginning to dry, pulling uncomfortably at the skin. I’ll need to wash my hands soon.
“Grace explain,” Rocky says, sitting in front of me. I can tell he’s studying my face, looking for new leaks.
“Ok so a nosebleed is when well…your nose bleeds,” I say, my voice muffled by paper.
“Why?”
“Um well sometimes you can get hit in the nose and a blood vessel will burst or sometimes dry air can mess things up,” I gesture to my nostril region, “in there.”
‘So why Grace get nosebleed?”
“That’s a great question. I’m not sure,” I respond, busying myself with the microscope settings. As I mindlessly zoom in and out, I pause. “We had to raise the temperature for the breeder tanks.”
“Breeder tanks make Grace bleed, question? How can Rocky fix?”
“Not the tanks, the temperature. It sucked all the moisture out of the air.”
“Ahhh. Rocky understand,” he pauses for a moment, “has Grace stopped bleeding?”
I pull back the paper to reveal a wet stain of blood.
“Give it another minute.”
Rocky makes a low note, the equivalent of a disappointed hum and taps his legs nervously.
“Rocky does not like nosebleeds. What happens if too much blood is lost?”
“We don’t lose that much blood in a nosebleed. It just feels like a lot.” Although looking at the paper towel, soaked through with blood, it’s hard to believe I’m not bleeding out.
Rocky rocks in front of my chair, fiddling with his hands. I can tell he’s out of his element, unsure how to help.
I clear my throat. “Rocky, do you think you could get me some more paper towels? I think there’s some in the kitchenette,” I suggest.
Rocky perks up, happy to be given a task.
“Rocky will be right back!” He begins to roll away but pauses to add, “Grace no die while I’m gone.” With that, he disappears into the Hail Mary.
I sigh, amused at the scene. From his perspective, I could see how insane this looks. I’m glad I could give him a job. However, that wasn’t the only reason I sent him away. I can feel a blood clot forming and I didn’t even want to try explaining that.
Rolling over to the nearest trash can, I hang my head over the bin and exhale harshly through my nose. However, the clot is stubborn and stays firmly in place. I sigh and let my chin rest against the rim, blood dripping into the can. I stay like that for a few minutes, feeling the blood fall from my nose.
“What is Grace doing?” Rocky asks. He returned with a whole roll of paper towels smushed into the malleable plate.
I shoot up and with the sudden motion, the clot is dislodged. My hand once more flies to my face to cover it.
“I’m letting the blood drain,” I say, my voice barely audible.
Rocky’s imaginary eyebrows furrow. He rolls forward and hands me the roll. I can feel the skepticism radiating off him.
“Thanks,” I utter pathetically.
You could hear a pin drop as I rip out a square of paper and slowly bring it up to my nose, trying to time it so Rocky won’t see the bloody exchange. Too bad he’s staring into my soul.
“Do you mind?” I ask.
“No.”
Just as I lower my hand to make the switch, Rocky jumps in his ball.
“Rocky told Grace to not die while gone!” He points an appendage accusatorily at me.
“Rocky! Again, I’m not dying!” I exclaim. Any attempt at subtlety is gone as I bring the paper up to catch the clot.
“Then why brain fall out, question?!” He asks, gesturing to the blood clot sitting in the paper towel.
I quickly toss it into the trash can. “Not my brain, it’s a blood clot. It’s part of the whole nosebleed business,” I stop for a second, “How do you even know what a brain looks like?”
“Rocky see inside Grace,” he responds, monotonous.
“Ew, ok stop with that. I appreciate the concern, but I won’t be dying today.” I raise my hands for emphasis; both are covered in dried blood. I can only imagine my face.
Rocky pauses and shrinks a little. “Scary to see Grace bleed. Haven’t seen blood since…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know he’s referencing our near-death experience on Adrian.
I slowly lower my hands to my side, feeling like a jerk. Of course, it would be scary to see your best friend covered in blood. The scariest moment of my life was finding Rocky unmoving in his airlock, unsure if he would ever wake up again.
“Jeez, I’m sorry buddy. I know this doesn’t look great.”
Rocky hummed quietly in response.
“It’s okay. Rocky just scared. Grace is okay, question?”
“Yeah, Grace is okay,” I say, leaning down to hug his ball. However, I get stopped by Rocky’s appendage against the glass.
“Clean and then hug. Rocky does not want blood on ball.”
I chuckle. Fair logic.
“Grace go shower. Looks like you ate human, statement,” Rocky says, once more bumping into my ankles.
“Ok ok! I’m going. Shower then hug,” I say, allowing myself to be pushed towards the living quarters. “Be back in a sec.”
Rocky nods in approval. “Grace no die while gone,” he says, a hint of lecture in his voice.
“Agreed.”