Worlds Apart Pt. 02

He gave each of them a little attention, then lifted Bren from the pile, waving the colorful toy in front of his face. The kitten reached out, grasping at the soft material with his little hands, Jamie guiding it into his mouth. Immediately, he started to chew, so engrossed in his new discovery that Jamie was able to set him back down on the floor without complaint.

The kittens had started to show more interest in their toys in the last week or so. The playpen was strewn with various colorful items, from rattles and bead mazes to plush animals and comically sturdy picture books. So far, he had remarked that Hazel liked to play with the stuffed rabbit, and Kenneth was fond of trying to eat whatever would fit in his mouth.

They played with each other, too. They were social little critters. He had seen them playfighting on occasion, more like lion cubs than human babies, rolling around on the foam as they grasped at one another with their clawless fingers.

"He's chewing it," Jamie said, Liz leaning in over the low fence.

"Good, maybe he'll stop chewing me now."

***

Jamie was chopping carrots at the kitchen counter one day when he heard a cry. Liz was in the bathroom taking a shower, so he set down his knife and turned to see what the kittens were up to. He did a double-take when he saw that Bren was standing outside of the playpen. The little kitten was leaning against the plastic barrier, not yet coordinated enough to stand upright on his own, his tiny hands clinging to the top. As Jamie watched, he pulled himself most of the way up, his feet scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth surface. He sank back down, letting out another miserable wail.

Jamie rushed over and scooped him up, the baby lifting his head to rub it against Jamie's stubbly chin affectionately.

"How the hell did you get out of your pen?" Jamie wondered as he peered down at the other kittens. They had all crawled over to see Jamie, more of them using the fence to support themselves as they stood up. "Did you climb on someone else's head?"

Curious, he set Bren back down inside the pen. Immediately, the kitten started to climb his way up the wall again, mewling as he tried to reach his dad. He couldn't even walk yet, but he had the upper body strength to raise himself off the carpet, his feet sliding on the fence. As Jamie watched, Bren found a foothold, a detail in the decorative plastic that gave him just enough leverage to get higher. Jamie caught the kitten as he started to clamber over, cradling him in his arms.

The barrier of the playpen was made from rectangular pieces of plastic with interlocking teeth. It was all very rounded, very colorful, very baby-friendly. If they turned the fence inside-out, that would probably stop Bren from making more great escapes, but Jamie got the feeling that it wouldn't contain them for very long.

***

Liz and Jamie had decided to start letting the kittens out of the playpen a few times a day, but only after fastidiously child-proofing the apartment. They covered every electrical outlet with a cap, ensured that the bathroom door was securely closed, and unhooked any trailing wires that were within reach. They also cleared away much of the furniture in the living area, pushing it back against the walls to give them more space. For now, the infants didn't seem agile enough to find a way up onto the kitchen counter or the dining table.

As soon as the gate to the pen was open, the kittens made their escape, their eyes wide as they crawled around on the carpet. Jamie had been out and bought a walker, which he introduced to Bren. It was a colorful, wheeled frame made of molded plastic, intended to support a baby while they learned to walk. It doubled as a gaudy play center, covered in little balls and toys that would keep an infant occupied. The other kittens would have turns, too, but Bren was by far the most active among them so far.

The orange kitten wrapped his hands around the handle as Jamie let go of him, the walker starting to move when he leaned his weight on it. Almost immediately, a wide smile split Bren's face, and he began to laugh breathlessly as he toddled along. Jamie couldn't help but join him. The sound of his excited giggling was infectious.

"Look at him go," Liz chuckled as she watched from her seat on the carpet.

Bren howled with glee as he made his way across the room, his odd gait drawing Jamie's eye. Human babies tended to waddle, but Borealans were digitigrade, and Bren had a springier step. He was still clumsy and uncoordinated, but it gave Jamie a glimpse of the agility that he would someday be capable of.

He watched the kitten roll his walker straight into the adjacent wall, tumbling onto his butt once he lost his forward-momentum, but his cackling told Jamie that he wasn't discouraged. Jamie rose to his feet and made his way over, picking him up and pointing the walker in the other direction. He gave him a pat and sent him on his way again, the kitten laughing as he wobbled along.

He glanced over at Liz, seeing that she was playing with Dazka, the little blonde female. Daz was very talkative, she had been the first of the kittens to start babbling. She loosed a long string of nonsense words as Liz nodded her head, pretending to understand her, the kitten sitting beside her as though imitating her mother. Hazel was nearby, lying on the carpet as she clutched her toy of choice in her little arms, a stuffed rabbit with a pink bow around its neck that was easily as large as she was. At first, Jamie assumed that she was hugging it, but it seemed upon closer inspection that she was biting its shoulder, kicking at it with her paw-like feet. Was she quiet because she was shy, or was she a silent assassin?

Liz reached over to grab the bunny, giving it a wiggle, Hazel redoubling her efforts to slay the creature.

Jamie scanned the room for Kenneth, noticing an orange tail dip behind the low wall that divided the kitchen area from the living room. Suspicious, he made his way over, finding the boy hiding beneath the dining table. There was a wooden mixing spoon clutched in his hands. Who knew how he had managed to get it. The kitten spat angrily as Jamie reached beneath the table to scoop him up, keeping a tight hold on his spoon.

"Where the hell did you get this?" Jamie wondered.

"What does he have?" Liz asked.

"Our son is a spoon bandit," Jamie replied. He tried to pry it out of the kitten's hands, but he resisted, Jamie eventually succeeding in separating it from him. Tears welled in Ken's amber eyes, and he began to cry, a mournful wail filling the apartment. His crying seemed to disturb the other children, most of them turning their furry ears in his direction, wondering what all the fuss was about. Bren paid him no mind, he was still pushing his walker around happily.

"Oh, just let him have it," Liz said. "It's not like he can hurt himself with it."

He returned the wooden spoon to the kitten, who immediately ceased his crying, starting to chew on the round end as Jamie rocked him in his arms.

The kittens tired themselves out rather quickly. They were still very young, and Borealans didn't have a lot of stamina to begin with. Naptime was declared, Jamie and Liz placing them back in their pen one by one, the babies too sleepy to protest. Hazel was still clinging to her bunny, and Ken had his prized spoon in hand as they joined the sleeping pile, already out before their furry butts had touched the foam.

Jamie and Liz retreated to the couch, flopping down together, enjoying their brief moment of peace.

"Maybe they're like dogs," Jamie suggested, Liz raising an eyebrow. "Y'know, you gotta tire them out so they don't misbehave."

"Maybe," she chuckled.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious.

"Well," she sighed, pausing for a moment as she glanced over at the playpen. "My nipples feel like someone tried to twist them off my chest, and I'm pretty sure I'm one more interrupted night away from sleep deprivation, but...pretty great."

"Is it everything you expected?"

"Oh yeah," she replied. "Both the good and the bad. I knew it would be challenging at times, but it's all worth it when I see those adorable little faces. This is exactly what I wanted. It's satisfying in a way that I've seldom felt before. Feels like...I know for sure that I'm doing the right thing." She reached over and nudged him. "You've really been stepping up, too. You're great with them. It's kinda hot."

"Yeah?" he chuckled.

"We're gonna have a lot of lost time to make up for once I'm all healed up."

He wanted to suggest that there were other things they could do, but he held his tongue. Liz was tired, sore, in no mood for fooling around. Better to just wait until she was ready, let her take the time that she needed.

***

Toza splashed in the bath as Jamie tried to hold him still, rubbing shampoo into his fur, the little kitten kicking his legs in the water. Contrary to what he had expected, bathing Borealan kittens was a cinch. Their people had an affinity for water that set them apart from cats, and they seemed to love it. They weren't quite powerful enough to swim, but there was a hell of a lot of splashing as they made an attempt, usually leaving Jamie soaked to the bone.

The kittens were developing so quickly. Jamie had all kinds of charts that tracked the expected development of babies, but the kittens always seemed a step ahead of their human counterparts. Their progress seemed much more comparable to that of cats than humans. By their second month, they had reached twenty pounds, and although they couldn't walk unassisted yet, that didn't stop them from trying. They crawled a lot, and they could climb remarkably well, considering that they couldn't stand upright yet. Perhaps it was instinctive, some vestigial need to clamber up trees to escape Borealis' ancient predators.

They were all teething now, and the playpen was always strewn with partially-destroyed rubber rings. Jamie had come up with the idea of buying them chew toys intended for puppies, which was a great success, as they seemed to endure the incessant gnawing for a lot longer.

He rinsed Toza off with the showerhead, the baby batting at the streams of water, then pulled him out of the tub. He wrapped the struggling kitten in a clean towel, which seemed to calm him a little, and stepped out of the bathroom. As he sat down on the couch, drying Toza's fluffy fur, he heard an alert on his phone. He reached over to retrieve it from the coffee table, keeping it out of reach of the curious kitten as he scrolled through his messages.

"Hey, Liz!" he called.

"What is it?" she asked, turning to look back at him as she stirred a pot on the stove.

"I just got a message from my parents. They say they want to come over and meet the kittens."

"Huh, really?" she asked. "I know you guys aren't very close, but after two months, I figured they just weren't interested."

"I've been sending them pictures and videos," Jamie said. "I guess I whittled them down over time. You were right, babies are a good way to reconnect with estranged family members."

"They don't have to come over if you don't want them to, you know," Liz added as she turned to face him. She crossed her arms, her ladle in hand, leaning back against the counter. "It's your decision. You get to choose if they have access to our family or not."

"It's not like I hate them," he sighed, bouncing the swaddled kitten in his lap. "They were good parents, they never beat me or anything like that, they never treated me unfairly. They just...didn't support me when I needed it the most. I was so torn up after your folks took you back to Borealis. I was depressed, my grades started slipping. Sure, they were sympathetic at first, but that quickly turned to frustration."

"People do that," Liz sighed, nodding her head. "They make superficial attempts to cheer you up, then get angry when you don't magically get over your problems, which just makes things worse. There's nothing quite like being berated for being miserable."

"They tried to diminish what we had," he continued. "They tried to gaslight me, convince me that it wasn't real, that it was some kind of foolish puppy love. It wasn't their lack of understanding that upset me so much, but the fact that they didn't even try. All they cared about was maintaining the status quo, because it was easier than actually dealing with the problem."

"You can tell them no," Liz added.

"I dunno," he muttered, Toza reaching up to bat at his chin. "I only have one set of parents. These kittens might be my last excuse to repair our relationship. I'd like the kids to know their grandparents, I think it's important."

"If that's the way you feel," she added with a shrug. "I don't have beef with your parents, they were always nice to me, but the way they treated you when you were at your most vulnerable does rub my fur the wrong way."

"Rub your fur the wrong way?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, like when you go against the grain," she explained as she ran her hand up her forearm to demonstrate.

"I think you mean it rubs me the wrong way. You spent too much time on Borealis, you're forgetting your English."

"Oh, right," she snickered. "Yeah, Elysians have a similar saying. Guess I mixed them up."

"Sorry, by the way," he added.

"For what?" Liz asked, cocking her head at him.

"Here I am complaining about my parents wanting to come over, and yours don't even have the option."

"Eh, it's fine," she replied with a dismissive wave of her giant hand. "As you well know, interstellar travel isn't an easy affair. They'll meet the kids one day, probably when we visit Borealis."

"You're dead set on that, huh?"

"Of course," she said with a toothy grin. "Don't worry, you'll love it, and it'll be kind of a spirit quest for the kids. They'll have learned all about their human side, but we'll need to show them what it means to be part Borealan too."

"So...you think I should invite them over?" Jamie asked.

"If that's what you want. It doesn't have to be right away. You can think on it a while."

"I think this is a bandaid that needs ripping off," he said, starting to type a reply.

***

"Hurry," Jamie said as he adjusted the tablecloth, waving Liz over. She set the plates down on the dining table, and he began to place one in front of each seat. "They'll be here any minute."

"I don't think your parents care about the placement of the cutlery, Jamie," Liz chided. "They're here to meet the kittens."

"I know, I know, but I haven't had them over in years. I want to make a good impression."

Liz marched up behind him and placed her furry hands on his shoulders, starting to rub, careful to keep her sharp claws away from his shirt. He leaned into her, the sensation distracting him.

"Chill out," she insisted. "You don't need to try so hard. This isn't a job interview."

There was a knock at the door, Jamie tensing up again. Liz released him, and he made his way over, the door sliding open as he hit the touch panel. His parents were standing outside. His father was tall at six feet and change, and Jamie had inherited his stature. The man's hair was a shade of brown, a few silver hairs standing out here and there. He sported a full beard in the same hue, and he was wearing a dark coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck. His mother's hair was still the same vibrant blonde that he remembered, a trait that Jamie had inherited from her side of the family. She was wearing a sweater, and she had a box clutched in her hands. A gift for the kittens, perhaps?

His mother greeted him more warmly than his father, who gave him a handshake as he invited them inside. Liz came over to say hello, his father having to lift his head to look her in the eye. They had known Liz since she was a young child, and they had met her since her return from Borealis, but her enormous stature still seemed to surprise them. Perhaps they still couldn't reconcile the slight girl they had known with the giant that stood before them. It had taken Jamie some time to acclimate to her new physicality after her return, too.

"It's so nice to see you again, Liz," his mother said. She made to hug her but reconsidered when she realized that her arms wouldn't make it all the way around her hips. Liz crouched and gave her a kind of one-armed hug instead. Jamie's father offered her his hand, and she enclosed it entirely in her furry fist.

"You're looking...healthy," he stammered.

"We brought a gift for the babies," Jamie's mother said, presenting the box that she was carrying. It was wrapped with colorful paper, tied up in a neat bow.

"Oh, thank you," Jamie said as she handed it to him. He unwrapped it, Liz hovering over his shoulder. Inside the cardboard box was a rolled-up blanket, Jamie lifting it out. It was incredibly soft, covered in downy, white fur.

"It's a sheepskin blanket," she explained as Jamie passed it to Liz. "We had one for you when you were a baby."

"Wow, it's soft," Liz mused as she rolled it between her padded fingers.

"Thanks, mom," Jamie said. "The kittens will love it."

"Where are the little fellas?" his dad asked, eyeing the playpen.

"Come on over, we'll introduce you," Jamie replied. They approached the pen, Jamie's mother gasping as she saw the kittens playing on the foam padding. The babies dropped what they were doing and began to crawl over to the fence, leaning on it as they reached up towards their parents, their loud mewling filling the room.

"Look at them!" his mother crooned, beside herself with delight as Jamie lifted Hazel from the pile. She began to purr as he cradled her, pushing her face into his stubbly chin, nuzzling contentedly.

"This is Hazel," Jamie began, turning to his mother. They had already seen pictures and videos of the kittens, but seeing them in person was something else. "You can hold her, just treat her like you would a baby."

He passed the shy little kitten to her, his mother taking her in her arms gingerly, smiling from ear to ear as the infant glanced up at her.

"Stroke her tummy," Jamie suggested. "They like that."

His mother did as he advised, running her fingers through the fluffy fur on Hazel's belly. The kitten warbled, kicking her legs in response, her little hands reaching up to grab at her grandmother's sleeve.

"Oh my gosh, she's so soft," Jamie's mother marveled. "Hey there! Hi, Hazel, hello!"

"They look just like little cats," his father said, leaning in to get a look. "I remember when Liz used to have fur like this. God, how old must you two have been? Five? Six?"

"They're adorable," his mother said, enamored with her wriggling charge.

His father was a little less enthusiastic. Neither of Jamie's parents had ever expressed opposition to his relationship with Liz. They had known her since she was a child. That said, nobody expected their son to have half-human, half-alien children. It had to be strange, knowing that your grandchildren would look so different from you.

"Why does that one have a spoon?" his father asked.

"Oh, that's Kenneth," Jamie explained. "He's obsessed with that thing. He won't put it down, so we just let him have it."

"We can go inside if you like," Liz suggested. "We let them out for a few hours every day, but we have to make sure the apartment is safe for them first. They're so inquisitive, and they're surprisingly strong climbers."

"We'd love to," Jamie's mother replied. Jamie opened the little gate, gently pushing back the kittens, and his parents followed behind him. Immediately, they were swarmed, the kittens trying to shimmy their way up their legs. Jamie sat, and his parents followed suit, the babies climbing into their laps. Before his father could object, both Bren and Daz were on him, the little blonde girl babbling incoherently at him. He seemed amused by her one-sided conversation, cracking a smile.