The Handkerchief

by Josy Bongiovanni

Eva wiped her tired brow with the faded pink handkerchief, her small and wrinkled hand shaking from exhaustion and dehydration. With one frayed edge and discolored flowers, it had once seen better days, much like its owner. And although she had received many scarves and beautiful swatches of cloth throughout the years, this one held too many memories to be discarded. 

Looking up at the burning sky, Eva recalled the day that he had given her the handkerchief. The summers were bearable back then, and the waters ran clear and abundant for all. She could barely manage now, at eighty-six, on the rationed thirty-two ounces a day. 

60 YEARS AGO, EARTH - FIFTY-SECOND DISTRICT

It had been raining. Not the acid rain they had now, but the kind that you could dance around in and try to catch on your tongue. He passed by the garden she was tending and stopped to watch her. This was not uncommon as most people who gazed upon the garden couldn't help but gawk in awe. The purples and blues of the hydrangea shrubs mixed perfectly with the beds of forget-me-nots. Coupled with the radiant yellow of the daffodils, the contrast of textures and colors stopped everyone in their tracks. 

"It's raining." He said matter-of-factly as he leaned on her fence.

He wore a long coat, with his hat tilted to cover his face. 

"Yes, I believe it is." She replied with a smirk, never lifting her eyes from her flowers.‌

"Do you always garden in the rain?"

"Are you always so inquisitive?"

She looked up then and gasped at the sight of him, stumbling into the wet dirt as she tried to right herself. Was it a trick of the light, or had she seen scales on his face? 

The stranger didn't seem disconcerted at all as he pulled his hat lower onto his face. He smiled and held out his gloved hand, offering her the handkerchief from his pocket. It was a beautiful shade of rose, with small, almost indiscernible lavender and green flowers. She took it and marveled at the softness as she brought it to her cheek to wipe it clean. All the while, their gazes remained locked, and when she went to give the small piece of fabric back to him, he shook his head and gestured that she could keep it.

"Why, thank you, mister…?"

"You can call me Raza." 

"Pleased to meet you, Raza. I'm Eva." 

She extended her hand, and he took it, slowly bringing it to his lips. Sparks flew through her entire body, and she felt a rush of heat envelop her. He grinned, and she could see that his cuspids came to a fine point. His hat lifted ever so slightly, the light hitting his face, and she saw his skin reflect the light ever so slightly. 

He must have sensed her puzzlement and slight fear as he pointed to his teeth and laughed. 

"Genetic mutations of my people."

She had heard of strangers coming to town in recent months. Some people swore they were devils. This man seemed like the perfect gentleman. 

"And where exactly do you come from, Mister Raza?" He had an accent that she couldn't quite place. 

"Oh please, simply Raza will do. I come from a long way away. Have dinner with me, and I will tell you all about my people."

"I don't even know you," she protested. 

"The more reason to share a meal and get to know one another." 

They were both soaked as the rain began falling in sheets around them. Wanting to get to shelter and also a little intrigued, she replied with the only response that she saw fitting.

"Of course, Mister Raza. I'll see you this evening at seven."

Another toothy smile from him, and he turned to leave. Clutching the handkerchief, she watched him saunter away, unconcerned with the state of his attire or the harsh winds that were gushing water at him furiously.

_______________________

She knew one thing about her mystery man: he was punctual. At seven sharp, she heard a knock on her door. Eva had just enough time to stash the handkerchief she had been admiring into her brassiere before she opened the door.

"Good evening, Miss Eva," he lilted as he produced a bouquet of pale yellow daffodils. He still had that hat on, which shaded his face. She was curious to see more of it. Soon.

"Why, thank you! I'll put them in water before we go." 

As she took the flowers from him, she felt the same rush of heat as that afternoon. 

Fanning herself, she turned to get the vase she kept in the kitchen cupboard. He followed her in and glided onto her couch without removing his coat or hat.  

"I'd prefer to stay here." He said matter-of-factly.

Eva tensed, feeling ill at ease with a stranger in her house, gentlemanly or not. 

"I beg your pardon, Mister Raza? I thought we were going on a date."

"Yes, that's what I hear they call it."

"So why are you insisting that we stay here?" Her voice came out less firm than she had wanted. A small part of her wanted to stay here with him. The attraction was too palpable.

"Ah yes, I promised you a meal. That is to be expected. My apologies. I was hasty in wanting to talk to you about my people."

She wanted to tell him to leave, but he seemed genuinely clueless and sincere in his apology. Maybe it was different where he came from. And there was the fact that she was extremely curious about him.

"We can head to the diner down the street if you'd like. However, I must warn you that most people don't react to me as you do."

"What do you mean?" 

He lifted himself off the couch and was standing in front of her in a few paces. Then, he slowly reached for his hat. Her pulse quickened. He was so near that she could smell him, a mixture of something floral with a woodsy undertone. Finally, the hat came off, and she froze, dropping the flowers. She didn't know what she was expecting, but this wasn't it. Raza's was completely covered with iridescent scales. 

She took a step back and shook her head. It hadn't been a trick of the light earlier in the rain. But how was this possible? As much as she felt she shouldn't stare, she couldn't keep her gaze from the translucent tiny plates that shimmered in the light. She reached out to touch them but pulled her hand back.

"It's okay; you can touch." He said as he gently took her hand and placed it on his cheek. 

"But how?" She marvelled as she moved her fingers over the soft, snake-like skin. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he leaned into her touch. 

"Genetic mutation of my people," he whispered. 

"And where on earth do people like you come from?"

"We don't." 

"Pardon me?" 

Eva broke away from him. This man was more confusing than a Sudoku puzzle. 

"I'm not from this world." He replied as he tried to grab her hand once more. 

"No, it's a genetic mutation. That's what you said."

Flustered, Eva picked up the flowers from the floor and busied herself with putting them in a vase. 

"This is insane." She muttered to herself. 

"It is a genetic mutation. My people evolved to live in the arid climate of my planet over millions of years. Where I come from, water is scarce, and the sun is unforgiving. However, even though we developed to live in this climate, the planet is slowly getting uninhabitable. We were looking for a new planet when we came upon yours."

"You're telling me you're an alien. And that your species is invading my planet." 

She stopped fussing with the daffodils and slammed her hands on the counter. 

"I think you need to leave, Mr. Raza."

"No invasion is taking place. We want to help. I've tried telling people about what is happening to their planet, but they won't listen."

Eva stood right in front of the beautiful but baffling man and pushed him towards the door. 

"Can you blame them? Good night, sir."

"Are not my scales enough proof that I'm telling the truth?"

"Genetic mutation." She reminded him. 

He slowly retrieved an object from his coat, and for an instant, she thought it might be a gun. Instead, it was a contraption, which he aimed at an apple sitting in a bowl on her counter. The fruit was instantly deprived of all its moisture and shriveled to the size of a raisin.. 

"That's what we use back home to get water from the soil. Do you believe me now?"

"I'm getting there," she replied as she braced herself on the kitchen counter. 

"We performed a thorough analysis and concluded that Earth is destined for the same fate as our planet."

He paused and waited for her to say something, but she didn't know what else to say. Eva thought of her garden and how it would be almost impossible to keep it in such climatic conditions.

Raza walked over to the counter, where she had managed to put a few flowers in her vase, and took her hands in his. Again, the same heat enveloped her, drawing her closer to him. 

"We thought that if we could somehow impart our DNA to your people, we could save some of your species from the suffering that our ancestors endured."

"DNA? But how?" she asked.

He quirked a brow, and she quickly understood his meaning. 

"So I guess we're not going to the diner." She said as she stroked his face.

He cupped her cheek with his scaly hand and somehow nicked her skin. 

"Oh, I apologize. I'm not used to touching skin that is so soft and fragile."

"It's okay." She reached for the handkerchief near her bosom and pressed it to her face.

"This is not how I wanted this night to go," he said as he assembled all the flowers into a bouquet. 

He hurried out the door, leaving Eva standing at the kitchen counter with her mouth open, holding an empty vase. Her heart plummeted. Was she not worth the trouble? She had asked him to leave several times, though.

Then, she heard a knock on the door. She gathered herself and answered. He stood there, resplendent with his scales shining in the sun, flowers in hand.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

   

PRESENT DAY, EARTH - FIFTY-SECOND DISTRICT

"Grandma? Are you okay? Dad!"

Eva heard the distant voices but couldn't place them. Her head was fuzzy, and the last thing she remembered was Raza. 

"Raza?" She spoke, but the words came out choked and ragged. She was lying on the ground in her garden. 

"Dad! She's dehydrated again." A sweet female voice came closer to her.

Her vision was blurry, but she could see the female form hovering over her and a man rushing to her side. 

"Mother, why are you outside? You know you can't be in the sun. Here, have some of my ration."

Someone placed a water pouch near her lips, and she sipped from it. Slowly, her vision became clearer. She could now see and recognize her son and granddaughter.

"The flower." She rasped. She looked around her and saw the last flower in her garden. It had survived the harsh changes in the Earth's climate. Clutching her handkerchief, she smiled at the thought and looked up at the beautiful faces of her son and granddaughter as their scales glistened in the arid sun. 

The end