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The Butterfly Loss
Chapter 19 – Prolonging the Inevitable
Back to you,
It always comes around
Back to you,
I tried to forget you,
I tried to stay away,
But it's too late.
Over you,
I'm never over
Over you,
Something about you
It's just the way you move,
The way you move me.
Yeah, I'm so good at forgetting
And I quit every game I play,
But forgive me, love,
I can't turn and walk away.
‘Back To You'
John Mayer
Across town, a lone figure bolted upright in her bed. She could feel her power, her small thread of hope, fade away as if her organs were being slowly torn from her chest. She struggled to breathe.
It could be nothing, she reasoned. It could be any number of things. There was no reason to think that her first suspicion was the right one.
The ache in her stomach dulled, but did not disappear entirely. As her head cautiously drifted towards the pillow it had so recently vacated, she formulated a mental check list of what to look for the next day.
After all, the greatest strength was to know your enemy. And after all she’d gone through to get here, there was no way she’d give up without a fight.
~*~*~*~
Max absently rubbed his eyes as his body tugged him into consciousness. Even in this state, he knew that he was safe. And comfortable. And happier than he could ever remember.
And he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.
When he did, he was surrounded by Liz. The fact that it took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness of the room didn’t detract a bit from how beautiful she looked. They had shifted in their sleep so that Max was on his back and Liz was partly on top of him. Moonlight streamed in jagged cuts through the blinds, making her look more ethereal than he’d ever seen her. Every part of his body called out to her, but he tried to stay still and let her sleep instead. He relished in the warm puffs of air that steadily weaved in and out of her slightly opened mouth, gently caressing his chest.
Max couldn’t believe he was here with her … like this. Couldn’t believe he’d made love to her last night. Couldn’t believe he’d been inside of her, body and soul.
Right at this moment, Max couldn’t believe a lot of things.
Another thing he couldn’t do was fool Liz, even in sleep. In her deep and dreamless rest, she’d felt the shift in the rhythm of the rises and falls of his chest. Her own breathing patterns slowly changed to match his. As he became more alert, she felt him blossoming like the sunshine inside of her. The difference gently nudged her into awake. And before she opened her eyes, she knew, she simply knew, that she was safe. And protected. And loved.
Max’s fingers couldn’t stop from tracing the delicate line between her shoulder blades and part way down her spine, softly touching over silky strands of her hair. Liz felt the movement like fire and passion radiating from his fingertips into her body. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him. “Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he smiled lazily.
In the back of her mind, Liz briefly thought about the fact that she hadn’t seen a toothbrush for quite a while. But as she looked at him and felt his arm tighten slightly around her back, pulling her to him, she just couldn’t bring herself to care. She could still taste him slightly in her mouth, and she wanted more.
When Max felt her tongue sliding against his lips, the cobwebs of sleep were swept away, and the vivid memories of last night came crashing down on him with a vengeance. All he could think about was how delicious she had felt when he was inside her. He ravenously tasted and prodded her with his mouth. He took advantage of her surprise and flipped them over so that he was on top again.
Her legs automatically opened to welcome him as he teased her clit with the growing tip of his erection. But when he moved to enter her again, she gasped sharply and he immediately sensed the previously ignored pain which lingered there for her. Even though he’d taken away the pain of tearing her hymen, he couldn’t stop the soreness caused by his stretching of her walls for the first time.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Do you want me to make it better for you?”
Liz shook her head and threaded fingers through his hair. “No. That was … that was you inside of me. I want to feel that.”
If it was hard for Max to resist making love to her again before, it was doubly so after hearing her say those words. He kissed her again, treating her mouth like the venerable temple it was, until he was sated for the moment and went off in search of more skin to love just as much.
They passed indeterminable minutes in each other’s arms, sharing beautiful kisses, touching everywhere, declaring soft professions of love in the moonlight.
When they’d diffused their early morning intensity, at least for the time being, Max rolled off her again, resting on one shoulder. Liz assumed the same position facing him as he gathered her close. For now, just being together like this was enough. For now, the world was perfect in its stillness, and nothing existed but the two of them.
Reality crept into Liz’s mind first, though she struggled against it. With lazy fingers Liz stroked his shoulder. “Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Um, do you think we could … keep this between you and me for a little while?”
Max’s breath caught in his throat. He turned her head so that she was looking into his eyes. Gently, he tried to find through their connection if she was upset or was regretting what they’d done. Liz sensed his panic and opened herself up to him fully. There was no regret or shame on her side; in fact, nothing had ever been as wonderful as making love to him. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops that Max Evans was in love with her.
Which was the problem. She sensed that perhaps moving so fast in their last lifetime had contributed to Tess’s decision to leave, for she knew that, without the knowledge that she had now, she certainly would not have thought twice about letting the world know exactly where she and Max stood. She meant what she’d said last night; she didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes. Right now, her instincts were crying out to her that what had happened between them needed to stay between them.
Max saw the wisdom in what she was asking, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He cradled her cheek with one hand and brought her face close to his. His eyes swept over every millimeter of her skin. “How am I supposed to stay away from you?” he wondered aloud. His lips brushed over hers as he spoke.
Liz felt his acquiescence to her request, but in answer to his question, every place inside of her screamed, Don’t! Please don’t!.
That was all the encouragement Max needed before he kissed her deeply and lifted her thigh over his. When she felt him inside of her, all previous discomfort was forgotten.
~*~*~*~
After their pre-dawn lovemaking was over, they slowly dressed each other, kissing and touching at every opportunity. Even though they were the only ones at home, they still crept as silently as they could out the front door of the house and out to Max’s jeep. As always, he opened to door for her and held his hand out as she got in, kissing her knuckles as she settled into her seat. The sky began to change colors as he pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the Crashdown.
Getting up the ladder was an adventure. Max made the journey with her, staying close behind her the whole way, nipping and kissing her back through the material of her shirt. One time he went a little higher and started kissing her neck, nearly making Liz lose her balance. His hands covered hers as they gripped the ladder together when he sucked just a little bit harder. Liz’s head lolled back to rest on Max’s shoulder, and one of his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to him, creeping up her stomach under her shirt. When he squeezed one mound Liz leaned further back, and both of them nearly went tumbling. Liz regained her composure first, and climbed as fast as she could towards the top of the ladder again, which was less than ten steps away.
Max recovered just in time to reach his hand up and feel Liz’s back sliding beneath it as she raced away. He’d intended to let her reach the top and climb onto the balcony before following, but when he felt the small line of skin between the hem of her shirt and the waist of her pants, the plan immediately went out the window in favor of something better. He gripped her denim waist and looped a finger through a belt loop, making a quick halt of her escape. Then he climbed up after her, turned her around, and kissed her. Liz struggled to anchor her feet to the ladder somehow, but could only find precarious positions that left her dependant on Max if she had any hope of not falling. She wrapped both her arms around him and let him guard her. She trusted him completely.
Max relished in her reliance on him. He squeezed her in his arms, his hands still gripping the metal ladder. They kissed and kissed and kissed until they couldn’t breathe, swaying dangerously but feeling nothing but each other.
The top of the ladder was a million miles away.
~*~*~*~
Somehow Max managed to leave the Crashdown before the sun was in the sky, but it was definitely a close call. He hoped Mr. Parker and the morning staff hadn’t heard or seen the Jeep; the last thing he wanted was explain to his girlfriend’s dad what he was doing sneaking out of her room at 6:20 in the morning.
The word ‘girlfriend’ inspired a myriad of other thoughts. Never had a word sounded so delicious and yet so ineffectual at the same time. It meant more to him now than it did a year ago, and it wasn’t strong enough to capture everything she was to him now. And how was he supposed to pretend as if his world hadn’t changed so drastically? He knew and understood the importance behind the secrecy for now, but it was taking all his strength not to turn the jeep around and plaster himself to her side.
From somewhere between his heart and his gut, he felt her calming presence spreading through him. He smiled, and even though she couldn’t see it, Max knew she felt it. She knew what he was thinking, and she was doing what she could to sooth his anxiety away.
The feeling of it was incredible. There was a part of him now that was inextricably connected to her, and vise versa. She could feel him like he could feel her. And somehow they were going to have to find a way to hide everything until it was safe.
~*~*~*~
“Max!” Max turned around at the sound of someone calling his name from down the quad. His searching eyes soon found his sister with her eyebrows raised in her quest to get his attention. He stood and waited for her to catch up to him outside the B wing. He struggled to keep from smiling as he felt Liz’s presence warming inside him. She must be in the building already, he surmised.
“Do you have it?” Isabel asked when she was standing in front of him.
“Have what?”
Isabel looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted antennas. “My paper. For history? I called you yesterday and asked you to bring it with you.”
“Oh,” Max paled as he suddenly remembered the phone call. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Iz. I didn’t remember.”
Her jaw locked as she breathed heavily out through her nose. “Damn it, Max, I specifically asked you.” She turned her head away in anger for a moment. “Give me the keys to the jeep.”
“Huh?”
“The jeep. I don’t have history until after lunch. I can run home and get the paper myself.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Okay.” Max tried to gather himself together, but it was so hard when he could almost hear Liz’s laughter over the din of students.
He fished in his pocket for the keys and handed them to his sister, who was still looking at him strangely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah! I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, you just look … different or something.”
Better not to dwell too long on that, Max thought. “There’s nothing. Come on, the bell’s going to ring soon.”
Isabel let it drop, telling herself he was probably right as she slipped the keys into her own pocket and followed him in through the large double doors.
Once inside, Max immediately honed in on where Liz was. The act of searching for her reminded him of looking for treasure with his grandfather’s metal detector back in Pennsylvania. His mom used to take Isabel and himself for two weeks every summer until his grandpa died of a heart attack when they were in seventh grade. There had been several acres of land surrounding the large farm house, and Max and his grandfather would make an adventure of scouring the land for what might be hidden beneath. Max suspected that his grandfather would bury things out there a few weeks before his visit just for the fun of sending Max searching. He would give the entire yard a once-over, then eventually narrowed in on a certain area and found what awaited you. This sensation of feeling Liz, knowing she was there, but not being able to see her, made Max feel as if he was once more on a hunt for treasure far sweeter than gold could ever be.
A flash of shiny, silky hair standing still among the sea of teenagers was all he saw at first, but it was enough. He knew where she was, and inside he could feel that she knew he was there, too. He was content for now.
“I gotta go get my books. See you later,” Isabel told him. Max barely heard her.
His attention turned to his locker, and he busied himself with the combination and trading the weekend’s books for the ones he’d need for his first class. Every minute or so, though, he’d look back at where Liz was, and was rewarded each time with a surge of her love flowing in him.
Michael came and leaned against the locker next to Max’s; but he was so focused on Liz, he didn’t even notice until he heard, “So I guess you two made up over the weekend.”
“What?” Max asked, shocked. This secrecy thing was already getting more and more difficult, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. “What do you mean?”
Michael cocked an eyebrow. “Dude. If you were any more obvious, you’d be groping her.”
Max struggled to fight off the mental image. “You’re insane. We haven’t even really talked since Friday.”
Michael’s expression grew even more incredulous. “You do know I worked the Sunday night shift with Maria, right? That I know exactly where she was heading last night and what time she didn’t come home at?”
“Would you keep it down?” Max hissed. “Okay. She came, we … talked, but it’s not really … resolved yet. End of story.”
“Riiiight.”
~*~*~*~
“So chica, when did you finally get home last night?” Maria pulled Liz to one side of the hallway in an effort to give a semblance of privacy.
“Umm, I didn’t notice,” Liz lied. She was trying to get used to this sensation of feeling Max inside of her, not just physically but… in whatever other way he was now. She could feel his constant warmth near her heart now, and it was both thrilling and comforting. Still, between everything new that she was feeling and the knowledge of how much had changed in the last twenty-four hours – let alone the last few weeks – she was squirming underneath Maria’s inquisitive gaze.
“Are you okay? Did it not … go okay?” Maria sensed her friend’s uneasiness.
Like a sudden burst of sun, Liz felt Max. He was close. He could see her. She took a deep breath and tried to open up the easy wordless communication that they’d shared since this morning. “It went fine,” Liz smiled at her private joke.
“So?” Maria pressed on. “What’s going on, then?”
“I think we’re still just,” Liz took another deep breath as she felt Max caressing her with both his eyes and his soul, “trying to figure things out.”
There. Not an entire lie, was it?
~*~*~*~
At the opposite end of the hallway, outside of the open doors, Tess stood on the concrete stairs with sunlight shining down from the rafters onto her blonde curls. Silently and patiently she observed the characters of interest to her, taking care to mask the busy work of her mind with a blank expression.
They certainly weren’t acting as if they’d had sex last night. They weren’t hanging all over each other, weren’t even acknowledging the other’s presence, really. Sure, Max had sent some of those puppy-dog looks her way, but when hadn’t he done that?
Maybe it hadn’t been anything worth worrying about, after all. Maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe she’d been mistaken.
The first bell of the morning rang with a loud shrill. The sea of students scurried along like ants to their respective destinations. Only a few figures in the scene seemed to be moving at their own pace. Tess watched as Max and Michael slowly walked past Liz and Maria, and while one couple fell into an easy bickering, the other fell only into each other’s gaze.
And then Tess saw it, as clear as day. All at once the two of them were swallowed in a celestial glow that Tess knew only she could see, since only she knew how to look properly. The energy flowed around them, surrounded them, made them one. She hadn’t been wrong at all; the truth was painfully obvious. Suddenly she could see how everything between them screamed with sexual tension and passion. They weren’t speaking, they weren’t even touching, and still the royal golden light was still brighter than any dawn. The sight of it made her tighten her grip on her books until her fingers went white and were biting with pain.
Seething, Tess turned and seamlessly melted into the moving crowd of students. This was not the way things were supposed to go at all.
She needed reinforcements. Rather than heading to class, she went straight to the payphones on campus and inserted her thirty-five cents. On the second ring, he answered with a disgruntled “What?”
“It’s me,” she said. “You need to get down here now.”
~*~*~*~
Max and Liz discreetly trying to keep up appearances by letting Michael and Maria walk between them as they headed to the history class that Max and Maria had together. Max and Maria had History in the B wing, so once the group reached the classroom, the group broke formation. Liz threw one last longing glance over her shoulder at Max before she headed off to AP Calculus. Max resisted the urge to gather her in his arms, choosing instead to wrap himself around her warmth that continued to pulse through him.
“Girlfriend, you got it bad,” Maria laughed as they walked to their seats.
Max sighed. “We’re still figuring things out.”
“That’s exactly what Liz said. What, did you guys rehearse it or something?” she joked. Max tried to shrug it off, uncomfortable to just how close to the truth that question was.
Mr. Bartle, a dull middle-aged man with a barely concealed contempt for his students, waddled, not walked, to his desk in the front of the room as the second bell rang, signaling the start of class. He picked up his attendance sheet and checked the names on the list against the faces he was definitely not excited to see so early this morning. At one point his brow creased and he looked up, inspecting the class more thoroughly. “Miss Harding isn’t here this morning?”
Max and most of the rest of the class looked around for Tess. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she wasn’t around on this particular morning, could it? His pulse increased just a bit and his instincts screamed to him to be on alert.
A pale thin arm went up in the back of the class, and every seat gave a slight creak as their occupants squirmed about to get a look at it. Max too shifted in his seat to get a better look. When he saw the body that the arm was attached to, he breathed a sigh of relief, even though the hairs on the back of his neck still stood up in caution.
“There you are. Speak up next time, Miss Harding,” Mr. Bartle said in his almost monotone voice that reminded almost everyone who heard it of rocks scraping against each other.
Tess gave no reaction to the instruction, nor did she turn her head at all as another round of squeaking sounded out as everyone turned to face forward again. Max looked at her a few seconds longer, but she avoided even his gaze. That was especially strange; she’d never been the one to avoid contact with him, no matter what was going on. She sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, reacting to nothing.
Eventually Mr. Bartle seemed pleased with the attendance sheet. He sat at his desk and droned monotonously on about America in the 1840’s, during which absolutely nothing interesting, as far as Max could tell, happened. He kept trying to surreptitiously catch Tess’s eye, but it never worked. She seemed to be concentrating only on Mr. Bartle; but Max noticed that her expression, though steady, seemed blank, as though she was thinking about something else.
Towards the end of the class, though, she seemed to become more present. Max at last managed to gain eye contact with her, and they exchanged small, empty smiles. For the moment, at least, Max was satisfied.
Tess sprang into action the second the bell rang. Max was still putting his notebook into his bag when Tess nearly ran out the door. He hurried after her, spotting her in the hallway on her way to her next class. “Tess!” he jogged after her. She turned around and waited for him to catch up to her. “Hey,” he breathed heavily when he was standing in front of her.
“Hey, Max. How are you?”
“I’m good.” He motioned with his arm, inviting her to continue walking to their next class, and stepped into place beside her when she did. “What was going on in class? I was trying to get your attention there.”
Tess looked ahead of her. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. It’s just Mr. Bartle, you know. You can totally zone out in that class.”
“Yeah,” Max agreed. She seemed normal enough now, but maybe just spending a little more time with her would help calm those feelings of pending doom that he was still unable to shake. “So how was your weekend?”
She met his gaze unflinchingly. “It was good, how was yours?”
Max tried to keep from blushing as he looked down. “It was good.”
They arrived at Spanish class. Michael was approaching the door from the other side of the hallway. He and Max nodded a greeting to each other as he slid in front of Tess through the door. Tess had to stop walking to keep from bumping into him. She breathed in deeply through her nose, throwing daggers at him with her eyes. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know,” Max offered by way of an apology. He stepped back and let her walk in first, for which she graced him with a small but insincere smile.
This was shaping up to be one hell of a day.
~*~*~*~
For the first time in a while, the whole group was eating lunch together. Well, almost the whole group. Kyle was in training for basketball, which meant he spent his lunch hour lifting weights and practicing with the rest of the team, and Tess was nowhere to be found. Max and Michael tried to look for her, but to no avail. Still, the group that was gathered – Max, Liz, Michael, Maria and Alex – sat under a large bigtooth maple tree in a corner of the quad, enjoying the easy understanding that had developed over the weekend. As soon as Isabel returned from her quick trip home to pick up her paper, she joined them in the shade and pulled out her lunch. No one talked of Czechoslovakians or of mysterious visitors from the future. The hour was passed in comfortable, easy conversation. That is, at least for some. For Max and Liz, lunch was both a pleasurable and a tension-filled affair. They didn’t sit next to each other. They didn’t have to; proximity was more than enough of a distraction. The time they’d spent apart since that morning was feeling too long to both of them, and the enormity of their actions was beginning to sink in after the morning’s passionate activities. Seeing each other, being so near to each other now and unable to openly touch or kiss as they wanted, was at once frustrating and completely erotic.
Maria and Isabel gossiped about a new boutique that had opened in the mall with Liz interjecting her own comments periodically over the sound of Alex’s strumming guitar, and Max and Michael sometimes made small talk over the upcoming hockey season. And through it all, a silent steady flow of love, trust and understanding waved back and forth between Liz and Max.
At some point, Maria started to notice some of the secret smiles between the two of them. Playfully she shoved Liz lightly on the shoulder. “What’s going on with you two? You both look like you slept with hangers in your mouths.”
Liz blushed and looked down, not daring to look at Max. He answered for the both of them. “We’re just sort-”
“Yeah, sorting stuff out, we got the memo. But there’s something else. Something is different about you guys today.”
Liz concentrated on trying to keep the flush from her face. “We just kind of reached some … compromises.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Isabel snickered.
“I swear, you guys are actually starting to look alike,” Maria shook her head disbelievingly.
“We are?” Liz spoke for the first time, and looked over at Max. He met her eyes for a moment before looking around Michael, Isabel and Alex, all of whom seemed to take a moment to consider Maria’s observation before nodding their accordance.
“I can see it,” Michael said.
“Yeah, it’s like …” Isabel struggled to find the words she was searching for. She shook her head. “I don’t know, I can’t really explain it, but I can see it.”
“You guys are wrong,” Liz scoffed as best she could.
Maria emphatically disagreed. “No! I swear, it’s totally true. There’s, like, something about the both of you. It’s weird.”
“Be vaguer, Maria,” Alex interjected gently. He’d sensed Max’s and Liz’s discomfort with the conversation and decided to intercede as best he could. “Hey, Maria, tell me what you think of this song I wrote.” Discussion of music had the desired effect, and Max and Liz managed to escape any further scrutiny from their friends for the rest of lunch.
~*~*~*~
“Well?” Tess impatiently demanded.
Nicholas clenched his jaw as he stared ahead. “You failed,” he clipped.
“I did everything I was supposed to do!” Tess shouted. “I did everything Nasedo, and you, and Khivar wanted! And I did a damned good job at it, too. I’d like you to find anyone, on any planet you like, who worked as hard as I did. There has to be something more that can be done.”
“There isn’t. They’ve bonded. She has part of the seal now. They’re cemented together now. And there’s nothing any of us can do about it.” Angrily he turned away from the scene and punched his hand into a tree over and over again. Finally he stopped. Letting out an exceptionally disgruntled – one might even say, pissed off – sigh.
Tess’s mouth formed one very straight, very thin line. “I refuse to accept that. There has to be something.”
“There’s NOTHING, Tess!” Nicholas turned on her. “Ava or whatever you’re calling yourself in this lifetime. Look at them!” He waved an arm towards the quad where six figures sat on the grass in the distance. “They’re not even near each other, they’re not even TOUCHING! And you can see it! You can see the … the glow, the aura, the power just seeping from them like blood! They’re so close to each other now, they don’t even see where one of them ends and the other begins! They’ve shared, they’ve bonded, they’ve cemented. They did it; it’s over. They’re one now. You failed to get between them in time. There’s nothing any of us can do.”
During his livid ranting, Tess’s mind had latched on to something Nicholas had said. And somewhere inside, an idea began to form. She looked back at Max and Liz and the faint white-ish glow like starlight that emanated from them. And, after fighting the urge to gag, she concentrated more and more on her idea. Like she’d been taught, she channeled all her anger, disappointment, everything, all towards this small idea in her head that was quickly gaining life. And strength. And intensity.
“What are you so fucking calm about?” Nicholas snapped.
Tess didn’t even turn towards him. “I was just thinking …”
~*~*~
TBC
The Butterfly Loss (ML Adult) Ch. 29 10Nov.08 [WIP]
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LairaBehr4
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Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Thu May 10, 2007 2:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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LairaBehr4
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 227
- Joined: Mon Mar 06, 2006 3:48 pm
- Location: Reading over Katydid's shoulder.
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God, I'm bored. I wish somebody would update.
Who, me?
Well, okay.
Thank you everyone for your wonderful feedback. I really appreciate it. My gratitude to readers, posters, lurkers, and all you special people.
Lines taken from ‘Tale of Two Parties’ and ‘Secrets And Lies’, and … I think that’s it. Song used are: ‘Merry Christmas Baby’ by B.B. King, ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ by The Beach Boys’, and ‘Never My Love’ by Association.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty – Never My Love
December 24th, 2000
I’m Liz Parker, and as I approach the last few pages of this journal, I have to think about all that’s written in the pages before this. I think about how far my life has come. There’s been so much fear and heartbreak and anger for all of us. But when I think about that, I have to think about all the happiness and smiles and laughter there’s been, too. We’re still here together, weeks after Thanksgiving, after October, after the summer. After everything, we’re still together. And we’re alive. And no matter what other hardships may wait for us in the future, every smile from one of my friends makes me think that we’ll survive it all. So whatever happens in the year ahead, I can’t help but think that we can still make it. And I have to smile about that.
Liz felt a familiar glow within her, like sunshine, as she finished her last sentence. She closed her journal to get ready and wasn’t surprised at all when, as she was putting the cap back on her pen, she heard Max’s voice whisper, “Liz?” from the alley below. She smiled.
“Yeah, come on up,” Liz called. She stood up and straightened out her shirt with her hands. Her heart fluttered as his footsteps became closer, and she couldn’t believe he could still do that to her. She leaned over and watched him as he approached, climbing up the ladder. “Hi.”
He gave her a smile that melted her insides. “Hi.” He kept climbing towards her, eyes fixed on her face. He finished his climb, jumped over the wall, and slumped his shoulders, allowing his backpack to fall to the ground. Liz stepped closer to him, and their arms automatically circled around each other and they walked as one to the lounge chair which Liz had so recently occupied alone. How they managed to lay down was a mystery, but they succeeded in their efforts to their mutual satisfaction. Love flowed back and forth between the two of them as they exchanged sweet and adoring kisses.
When Liz started to pull his long-sleeved T-shirt over his head, Max grabbed her hands and pushed them onto the lounger, and pulled away slightly. “I didn’t come up here for this,” he whispered. Liz raised her eyebrows knowingly, making Max chuckle. “No, really, I didn’t.” He sat up on his knees. “I came here to give you your Christmas present.”
Liz smiled. “You’re early.”
“Only by a few minutes,” Max replied, checking his watch. Liz sat up and captured his lips softly, and Max smiled as he leaned into the kiss before he pulled away. “Stay right there,” he pecked her lips. Quickly he got up and crossed to where his backpack lay discarded near the brick wall of her balcony, and even more quickly he returned to her and sat back down on the lounger. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a large but thin rectangular box wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a thick white ribbon. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered as he handed it to her.
Liz took the gift from him with one hand, and with the other cupped his cheek and kissed him again. “Thank you. I love it.”
Max smiled. “You haven’t even opened it yet.”
“I know.” Another brief kiss to keep her sated for a moment, and then Liz got to the business of opening her present. She slid the ribbon off gracefully and let it fall to the ground before tearing at the paper. One hand circled around something hard and stable, and she slid the object out, freeing it from its paper vestment.
She gasped at what she saw there. It was a portrait, artfully placed in a white wooden frame with a two-inch light pink mat around the border. The portrait inside Liz recognized as having been taken from a 3x5 inch photograph which sat on the table in the hallway of her parent’s apartment. It had been taken several years ago, when Liz was fourteen years old and they’d gone on a rare family vacation to visit her aunt in Florida. One day her mother and aunt had taken her to the botanical gardens. The fans had created a gentle breeze inside the greenhouse, which was in full bloom. Liz was sitting on a bench with some hanging ivy in the background, creating a soft green frame for her face. The sunshine, muted by the building’s fogged glass, mixed with her body’s natural flush and made her face glow with healthy pink tints in her cheeks. She had been emerging from the last awkward phase of puberty into a graceful teenager with a face that spoke of the journey still remaining before her. All at once as she’d sat on that bench, the fans made her hair swoop up, and at the same time a white butterfly flew up to her and hovered only a few inches from her face. Liz remembered it clearly; she could have sworn she had locked eyes with the butterfly in those brief seconds before it fluttered away and was never seen again.
With all the skill of a professional photographer, her aunt had captured the moment perfectly on her camera, with Liz’s face and flowing dark hair at the left and the butterfly in the center, clearly discernable from the green backdrop of the ivy. Her mother had fallen in love with the picture and placed it in a space where every member of the family walked past at least twice a day. Max had clearly noticed it too, and turned it into a beautiful portrait that looked as though it might come to life at any second. But the face in it was not Liz as she’d been at fourteen; instead, it was the image of her as she was now, at seventeen, when the womanly potential in the photograph had been recognized. At the bottom, in curly script, there was a quote: “Love is like a butterfly: it goes where it pleases and pleases wherever it goes. -Anonymous”.
“Max…” Liz breathed.
“Do you like it?” he hoped.
Liz could only nod as she stared at its beauty. “How-how did you …?”
“I used watercolors. And … I had a little help.”
“Michael?”
“No,” Max laughed. He lifted his hand and turned them around a little, stating his point.
Liz shook her head as she stared at the portrait again. “It’s so beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” Max took her hands in his. “I was wasting time in homeroom going through Ms. Hardy’s quotation-ary, and when I saw that quote it made me think of the picture. Because you’re like that for me. And I just … wanted you to know that you’ll always have my love. No matter what.” He kissed her hands. “I love you so much, Liz.”
“I love you too,” she said with tears in her eyes. His hands left hers to cradle her face and gently caress her face. But it wasn’t enough just to touch, not for Max. He leaned in and took yet another kiss which she eagerly gave. Uncomfortable with his legs hanging off the side of the chaise, feet on the ground, Max leaned away to take her present out of her lap and place it gently on the ground, taking care not to break the glass frame. And then he went back in of her delicious mouth wanting more, more, always more.
When Liz felt her back lean against the back of the lounge with Max’s weight on top, she suddenly remembered something. “Oh!” she pushed him off. “I have your present, too!” Before Max knew what was happening, she’d dashed across the balcony and was gracefully ducking into her bedroom. He hesitated only for a moment before following her, knowing he didn’t want to spend this night anywhere else but in the warm cocoon of her room. He reached down to grip the portrait and carry it in to her.
He put his feet solidly on the soft carpet and looked up. Liz was kneeling in front of her desk, fishing something out of the bottom drawer. The room was dark, and the moon coming in through her large bay windows shone off her silky hair, making it glow with an almost blue hue. He had time to take only one step forward before she stood up again and turned around. She held two presents, one a small and lightweight, the other greater in size and volume. The paper was dark blue with snowflakes, and a thin white ribbon tied the two presents together. Then Liz saw what he carried in his hands. “Trade you,” she smiled. Max returned the smile, and they exchanged presents. Liz put hers down on her desk and watched as Max peeled back the ribbon from the two presents, going for the smaller one first. “I feel kinda bad,” he said as he tore the paper. “You got me two presents, and I only got you one.”
“Well, one of them isn’t really a present. At least, not from this year.”
A small white box with a familiar weight was revealed to Max’s eyes. He shook it twice and recognized the clunk-clunk. His eyes met hers. “Is this what I think it is?” Liz didn’t respond as his fingers lifted the lid. Sure enough, inside was the red and silver pocketknife which she’d given him for Christmas last year, the pocketknife which he’d returned to her before going to New York with Rath and Lonnie. Like his gift had done to her, Max couldn’t think of a thing to say. “Liz …”
“It’s still yours. It always was. I could never be just friends with you either, Max. I always meant to give this back to you when I could.”
“I never should have given it back to you in the first place. I wasn’t raised to return my gifts, and it’s not a habit I intend to get used to.” Max took her hand and kissed it again.
Liz blushed. “Open the other one.”
Max obeyed. This present was heavier, more solid. It felt like … it looked like … it was …
“…A book?”
“Not just any book,” Liz laughed.
Max finished divesting the present of the wrapping. “‘Tales of the South Pacific’? Um, Liz, not that I’m not grateful, but you know I already own a copy of this, don’t you? I mean, you’ve seen it.”
“This is a different copy. It’s a first edition. My grandma bought it, and when I was thirteen, she gave it to me. I know you already have a copy, but I wanted you to have this one, too. Open the front cover.” Max obeyed, and he at once saw what she’d wanted him to see.
September 6, 1996
Dear Liz,
I know you always loved this story, and I thought it was time to pass this along to you. Your grandfather gave this book to me when it first appeared on the New York Times Bestseller’s list. After he died, I took it with me when I started traveling. I guess I’ve kept it as a reminder of my own great love, for your grandfather was my soulmate. This wasn’t the most expensive gift he ever gave me, but the characters in it spoke to me in a way few other books ever did. They’re all searching so desperately for something real, and when they’re lucky enough to find it, they are foolish or unlucky enough to let it slip through their fingers. My precious grandchild, I hope you find your soulmate, and when you do, I hope you hold on to it tightly and never let him go.
I love you.
Your Grandma Claudia
December 25, 2000
Dear Max,
Don’t think that I’m skimping out on your Christmas gift. I wanted you to have something of mine, something I loved. I remembered when we talked about this book that day out in the desert. That night I went home and I wrote in my journal for the first time since the day I left you at the rocks. I opened this book and read my grandma’s note to me. I want you to know, Max, that I don’t want to be like some of the characters in this book. I want to fight for you, for us. And however long it takes or however difficult it may be, I’ll always fight for you. That day in the desert, neither of us was really talking about Joe and Liat, and everything you said was right. I’m happier with you than I ever was without you. So thank you for making me happy, and above all, from the bottom of my heart and soul, thank you for loving me.
I love you,
Liz
Max had tears in his eyes when he finished reading the two inscriptions. He put the book down and opened his arms to Liz, who wordlessly stepped into them. They wrapped their arms around each other, sensing each other’s souls and spirits. “Liz,” he whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for fighting for us. Thank you for loving me. You own my soul, Liz. You know you do.”
Liz looked up at him. One hand slid under his shirt and over his warm beating heart, and then other held him close to her. “Call it even, then?”
Max mimicked her arm’s positions. “Never. Never even. I’ll always want more. I’ll want to give,” he kissed the left corner of her mouth, and she hitched in a ragged breath “and take,” he kissed the right corner, making Liz moan, “more.” Then he covered her lips with his, and for the rest of the night they gave and took to their hearts’ content.
~*~*~*~
“I have to go,” Max tried to stand up only to have Liz pull him back down again.
“No,” she pouted, “stay.”
“I’ll be back here in a few hours,” he smiled as she wedged her soft thigh between his strong ones and kissed his chest. Oh, it was so difficult to think straight when she did that.
“You won’t be in here,” she mumbled, her mouth full of Max.
When she closed her mouth over his nipple, he grasped both her face with both hands and pulled her up to him, needing to feel her mouth on his. When he broke away again, they were both breathless. “I can be,” he breathed heavily. “Later.”
Liz felt wanton; she didn’t want him to go, but she knew he had to, and knowing that, she wanted to make sure he’d be coming back to her bed tonight. As Max placed beautiful wet kisses down her throat, she readjusted herself so that she was straddling him and sneaked her hand down his chest and beautiful stomach. She’d lost count of how many times she’d been struck by disbelief that they were together like this, skin to skin, soul to soul.
Didn’t mean a girl couldn’t have a little fun.
She reached lower still and closed her small hand around a part of Max’s body that was very happy to see her. Smiling in reaction to his ragged breath, she gently eased her hand up and down. At the same time she opened herself up to him, letting him see, take, plunder her soul as he wished. When he was on the brink of his pleasure, she removed her hand and hopped off of him onto the floor. Spotting his pants from the night before, she took them in her hand and held them out to him. Max still lay in the same position on the bed, his head leaned back and his mouth opened with pleasure and shock from her sudden departure. Finally he turned to her with glazed and pleading eyes. “You have to go now,” she said, putting on her most innocent face.
Max groaned, “Baby, don’t leave me like this.”
“Come back to me later and I’ll finish,” she smiled. She tossed his jeans over his spread legs and sat on the bed next to him before laying a light peck on his lips. “And don’t even think about helping yourself out between now and then. I’ll know.”
“God, I love you.”
The fact that he could say that, in his position, made Liz want to abandon her plan and take advantage of him right now. But no, he was the one who wanted to leave. “I know. Now, you said something about leaving.”
Max let out a long sigh and fell back against the pillows as he struggled to get his body under control. A thought struck him that he couldn’t stop from saying aloud. “I could stay with you like this for the rest of my life, Liz.”
His statement, the sincerity in his eyes, and the way he gently took her hand and intertwined their fingers as he spoke, made Liz shiver with wonderment. “Really?”
He nodded. “That’s what I want. Liz, I know we’re young, and I know there’s no possible way we can make plans for any real length of time with things the way they are now, but I want you to know that that’s what I’m working towards. Being with you for the rest of my life.”
“Me, too. I want that, too. With you.” Liz inched closer to him, and Max reached out to hold her.
“So we’re agreed? This is it?”
Liz stretched out over him. “This is it.” They kissed on it, and before either of them knew it, the jeans had found their way back to the floor. Max didn’t leave for rather a long time afterwards.
~*~*~
The sign on the door of the Crashdown read that it was closed for Christmas Day, but true intimates of the family knew better. By the time the Evans family arrived a little after two o’clock, the festivities were in full swing. There was one long, rectangular table on which sat the presents that would be exchanged; the other tables were pushed together from the front of the café to the back, with sixteen beautifully set places for everyone. The tables were covered with matching red tablecloths, the napkins were gold-colored with forest-green napkin holders in the shape of Christmas trees. Nancy used her best plate settings which she’d inherited from her grandmother, white with a curly gold trim around the edges, and silver cutlery. Candles glittered everywhere.
The countertop displayed all the food to be consumed. Nancy had cooked goose l’orange with stuffing and prepared sliced tomatoes drizzled with balsamic vinegar, olive oil and oregano. Diane brought a spinach salad with cranberries and walnuts and homemade rolls, along with four bottles of cabernet she’d been saving from a vacation to California. Gloria Whitman made the green bean casserole as well as bow-tie pasta with basil alfredo sauce. Amy Deluca had offered to contribute the appetizers, and had arrived with a plate of fruits and cheeses and another cold fish plate. The latter was approached with some apprehension (no one wanted to ask how she’d found fresh fish in land-locked New Mexico), but their fears turned out to be misplaced. The Parkers told Michael not to bring any food; he worked as a cook five days a week already and deserved a break for Christmas. The Valentis said that they would cover dessert, and though Nancy baked some Christmas cookies nonetheless, she doubted anyone would get to them when she saw Kyle and Jim enter the café with their arms full of pink pie boxes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” Tess said as she entered with the Valenti men, “thank you for having me here today. My dad never really got into the holidays; this is actually the first real Christmas dinner I’ve ever had. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Tess,” Mr. Parker said. “We’re glad you could make it.”
Mrs. Parker reached out. “Tess, let me take some of those presents for you. We’re putting them over here.” Tess followed to help. When they’d finished, the entire group sat down to dinner – all sixteen of them: three Parkers, four Evanses, three Whitmans, two Delucas, two Valentis, one Guerin and one Harding. Tess and the Valentis had been invited due to Liz’s persuasion; when she’d discovered the list of attendees, she wanted to make sure Tess and Kyle weren’t left out. Apparently, Tess had been rather gung ho about having a big family Christmas dinner as well, so it had worked out well.
Dinner was served buffet-style amidst laughter and conversation and the Beach Boys Christmas Album (Mr. Parker’s choice, Max was willing to bet). The group was dispersed well: Jeff sat at the head of the table with Nancy to his right, then Tess next to her, followed Kyle, Maria, Max, Diane, and Isabel. Philip sat at the other end of the table across from Jeff, with Jim Valenti on his right, next Amy, Alex, Charles Whitman, his wife Gloria, Alex, Liz, and Michael sitting next to Jeff. Amy and Jim continued their mild flirtation throughout dinner, much to the chagrin of their children. The Whitmans, who had always been a tight-knit family, sat together, though Alex spent most of his time talking with Liz. Nancy and Jeff made an effort to engage Tess in conversation and make her feel welcome. Idle small chat was the order of the day; inquiries into work and school were the norm. When Nancy asked what everyone at the table had done that morning, they went around by family and told each other about opening presents, which gifts were a surprise, and which gifts they’d known had been coming. By far the funniest story was that Philip and Diane Evans had both bought each other the same CD player for their cars; but whereas Mrs. Evans had wrapped Philips gift with paper, Philip had simply put a big bright bow and a “To Diane, From Philip” tag. When Diane and the kids had entered the living room to open presents, she’d thought that Philip had opened his gift already and, much to his confusion, admonished him for it!
After everyone had finished eating and the dinner plates had been brought upstairs, Nancy took out the pie plates and several forks. Since he’d been the one to contribute the pies, Jim Valenti was allowed to cut them for everyone. There was a Dutch Apple pie, strawberry, lemon meringue, pumpkin, pecan and cherry; in other words, something for everyone. As Jeff started the coffee pot, Nancy placed the cookies she’d baked on a large platter. Spying a semi-private moment, Jeff walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist while laying soft kisses along her neck. Nancy leaned against him even as she said, “Stop that! You’re going to scandalize our guests.”
“No one’s paying attention,” he said as he bit her earlobe.
“They will be if you keep that up,” she smiled. Jeff stopped, but he didn’t move away, opting instead to simply nuzzle her soft skin and breathe her scent. Nancy covered his arms with her own as she looked out on the group they’d assembled for Christmas dinner. “I’m happy, Jeff,” she signed contentedly. “You make me so happy.” Jeff didn’t need to say a word in response. He simply turned her in his arms and kissed her.
Liz was coming down the stairs when she halted to a stop after spying her parents through the window from the kitchen. While a part of her was embarrassed at her parent’s public displays of affection, a larger part of her was mildly jealous and wondered when the time would come that she and Max could be that open. She knew there were very good reasons for not going public with their relationship right now, but she didn’t want things to stay that way forever. With a sigh, she continued down the stairs and back into the dining room as inconspicuously as she could. Let her parents have that moment.
~*~*~
Dessert had been eaten and presents had been exchanged, and now the evening was drawing to a close as far as the adults were concerned. But there was one more tradition to go through.
Wordlessly, Jeff jerked his head at Alex, who nodded in response and helped him move the tables and chairs out of the way, creating an open space where everyone could walk freely. Most of the guests were snuggled into booths or sitting at the counter. When Nancy saw what was going on, she went upstairs to search for the CD case. She made it back downstairs just as Jeff was beginning his speech. “Well, everyone, we’ve eaten and exchanged gifts, and now it’s time to start working off all those calories. Nancy?” Nancy put a few CDs into the five-disc stereo and flipped it to the track she wanted. Then she walked towards Jeff and took his open hand. He pulled her into his arms and began to dance with her B.B King began to play and sing.
Merry Christmas baby,
You sure do treat me nice.
Merry Christmas baby,
You sure do treat me nice.
Gave me a diamond ring for Christmas,
Now I’m living in paradise.
One by one, the other adults got up to dance as well. Even the Sheriff subjected himself to humiliation by asking Amy to dance and then stepping on her toes repeatedly. Alex got up from the booth he was sitting in with Liz, Michael and Maria and went over to where Isabel was sitting next to her brother and across from Tess and Kyle. “M’lady?” he offered his hand to her. A smile peeked at the corners of Isabel’s lips, but she tried to stifle it as best she could, her survival instincts kicking in and urging her to protect herself by not letting anyone get too close. Still, that didn’t stop her from taking his hand and letting him lead her out onto the floor. Alex sensed her hesitation and didn’t hold her too close for fear of scaring her off. Kyle apparently thought that Alex had a good idea, for he stood up and slid into Liz’s booth and asked her for a dance, too. Maria had to stand up in order to let Liz out. On any other day, when she sat down again, Maria might have picked a fight with Michael over why he hadn’t asked her to dance as well. Today, though, she was too content to give the guy a hard time. Instead, they just sat there watching everybody else.
At the next booth, Tess and Max were left alone to observe their friends and families as well. Max tried to keep his eyes from straying to Liz, but Tess noticed that he would look at her until he realized he was staring, then look away, only to have his gaze return to her again at last.
‘Merry Christmas Baby’ came to an end, and a new song came on … another Beach Boys song, but not a Christmas one. Jeff gave Nancy the fish-eye. “You switched CDs on me!”
“Jeff, if I have to listen to that Christmas album one more time …” she said without any real venom in her voice.
“Hey, a good thing never changes!” Jeff defended with a smile. He let out a chuckle and pulled her closer. “Dance with me, my fool.”
Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older,
And we wouldn’t have to wait so long?
And wouldn’t it be nice to live together,
In the kind of world where we’d belong?
You know it’s gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together
“Hey Kyle,” Alex spoke up, “mind if I cut in?” He gracefully twirled Isabel out of his arms while capturing Liz’s hand and bringing her into them. Kyle, sadly, lacked Alex’s finesse, and made Isabel trip over his feet.
“Ow! Kyle!”
Kyle blushed. “Sorry.” Isabel let out an exasperated sigh; partly because of her trip, and partly because … she would have liked to dance with Alex some more. She looked at Liz, so happy dancing with Alex, and wished that it was her.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new?
And after having spent the day together,
Hold each other close the whole night through?
The happy times together we’ve been spending,
I wish that every kiss was never-ending.
Wouldn’t it be nice?
Max knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he couldn’t stand the fact that Alex was free to hold Liz and touch her and dance with her as much as he wanted, while he was confined to that booth, all for the sake of appearances.
Tess had to say something before she lost her temper. “Why don’t you just ask her to dance already?” she said to Max.
Max looked at her in shock. “What?”
“Liz,” Tess clarified. “Why don’t you just ask her to dance?” Max looked down at his lap and didn’t answer her. “Oh, come on, Max. I see the way you’ve been looking at her, and the way she’s been looking at you.” That got Max’s attention; he looked back up at Tess, and then at Liz, and then back at Tess again.
Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray
It might come true.
Baby then there wouldn’t be a single thing
We couldn’t do.
We could be married, we could be married;
And then we’d be happy, and then we’d be happy
Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?
“Look,” she said, “it’s okay, Max. I know that you and her still have feelings for each other, and that you’ve been trying to keep it a secret for a while now. I can only assume that a part of why you’re doing that is because of me, and I’m sorry for making you feel that uncomfortable. But you don’t have to, Max. I get it, I really do. You’ve never looked at me the way that you look at her. And … that’s okay. So go on, go be with her.”
Max was agape. Was she serious? Was she honestly telling him that he didn’t need to hide for her anymore? Max felt like he’d been handed the world and he didn’t know what to do with it. “Tess, I --”
Tess cut him off. “Don’t. Whatever it is, just don’t. You’re an idiot if you don’t take advantage of what you have there. I hope … I hope that we can be friends, though. I’ve liked being your friend these last couple of months.” She took a moment to let her words sink in. “Do you think we can do that?”
Max nodded slowly. “Yeah, we can do that.”
You know it seems the more we talk about it,
It only makes it worse to live without it,
But let’s talk about it.
Oh wouldn’t it be nice?
“So go on,” Tess smiled. “Go dance with her.”
Max could literally feel the weight of the weeks of secrecy and hiding falling from his shoulders at her words. He stood up and walked over to Tess’s side of the booth then leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Tess.”
“You’re welcome.”
Max stood up again and turned around. Like many other times in the last several weeks, Max locked his eyes on Liz. Unlike those other times, he didn't bother to check himself anymore. He rose from the table and walked over to her. The other inhabitants of the café seemed to disappear as he approached her. When she looked up and saw him, her breath caught in her throat. He looked so strong, so beautiful, so confident, and at the same time virile and predatory.
Alex sensed that her attention had been diverted elsewhere. He followed the direction of Liz's eyes and saw Max's approach. Sensing he was about to be most unwelcome, he let go of Liz and stepped out of the way. Max took his place without even realizing that Alex had moved away. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. The other hand snaked up her back and cradled her neck as he leaned down and ran his lips lightly over her forehead, taking in her sweet scent of strawberry shampoo and intoxicating pheromones. Liz began to tremble; her legs felt as though they were going to fall out from under her, and she had t hook her arms around Max and cling for support. "Max?" she managed. "What are you doing?"
"Dancing," he whispered back.
"But Max ... you know we can't. Tess ..."
"Tess was the one who suggested that I ask you. Besides," he smiled and held her closer yet, letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her at that moment, "I still owe you a dance. Remember? Senor Chou's last year?"
Liz was certain that she was about to melt into the floor when she felt Max's fingers trace the outline of her shirt's V-shaped back as the music changed and a new song began. "But Max, it's so soon."
"We won't overdo it. I won't even kiss you. I just want to dance with you." And that's exactly what they did.
You ask me if there'll come a time
When I grow tired of you.
Never my love,
Never my love.
You wonder if this heart of mine
Will lose its desire for you.
Never my love,
Never my love.
What makes you think love will end,
When you know that my whole life depends on you?
You say you fear I'll change my mind,
And I won't require you.
Never my love,
Never my love.
How can you think love will end
When I've asked you to share your whole life with me?
Though Max was true to his word and refrained even from kissing her, it was evident to everyone present that the two of them may as well have been the only couple in the world.
~*~*~
Continued in the next post
Who, me?
Well, okay.
Thank you everyone for your wonderful feedback. I really appreciate it. My gratitude to readers, posters, lurkers, and all you special people.
Lines taken from ‘Tale of Two Parties’ and ‘Secrets And Lies’, and … I think that’s it. Song used are: ‘Merry Christmas Baby’ by B.B. King, ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ by The Beach Boys’, and ‘Never My Love’ by Association.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty – Never My Love
December 24th, 2000
I’m Liz Parker, and as I approach the last few pages of this journal, I have to think about all that’s written in the pages before this. I think about how far my life has come. There’s been so much fear and heartbreak and anger for all of us. But when I think about that, I have to think about all the happiness and smiles and laughter there’s been, too. We’re still here together, weeks after Thanksgiving, after October, after the summer. After everything, we’re still together. And we’re alive. And no matter what other hardships may wait for us in the future, every smile from one of my friends makes me think that we’ll survive it all. So whatever happens in the year ahead, I can’t help but think that we can still make it. And I have to smile about that.
Liz felt a familiar glow within her, like sunshine, as she finished her last sentence. She closed her journal to get ready and wasn’t surprised at all when, as she was putting the cap back on her pen, she heard Max’s voice whisper, “Liz?” from the alley below. She smiled.
“Yeah, come on up,” Liz called. She stood up and straightened out her shirt with her hands. Her heart fluttered as his footsteps became closer, and she couldn’t believe he could still do that to her. She leaned over and watched him as he approached, climbing up the ladder. “Hi.”
He gave her a smile that melted her insides. “Hi.” He kept climbing towards her, eyes fixed on her face. He finished his climb, jumped over the wall, and slumped his shoulders, allowing his backpack to fall to the ground. Liz stepped closer to him, and their arms automatically circled around each other and they walked as one to the lounge chair which Liz had so recently occupied alone. How they managed to lay down was a mystery, but they succeeded in their efforts to their mutual satisfaction. Love flowed back and forth between the two of them as they exchanged sweet and adoring kisses.
When Liz started to pull his long-sleeved T-shirt over his head, Max grabbed her hands and pushed them onto the lounger, and pulled away slightly. “I didn’t come up here for this,” he whispered. Liz raised her eyebrows knowingly, making Max chuckle. “No, really, I didn’t.” He sat up on his knees. “I came here to give you your Christmas present.”
Liz smiled. “You’re early.”
“Only by a few minutes,” Max replied, checking his watch. Liz sat up and captured his lips softly, and Max smiled as he leaned into the kiss before he pulled away. “Stay right there,” he pecked her lips. Quickly he got up and crossed to where his backpack lay discarded near the brick wall of her balcony, and even more quickly he returned to her and sat back down on the lounger. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a large but thin rectangular box wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a thick white ribbon. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered as he handed it to her.
Liz took the gift from him with one hand, and with the other cupped his cheek and kissed him again. “Thank you. I love it.”
Max smiled. “You haven’t even opened it yet.”
“I know.” Another brief kiss to keep her sated for a moment, and then Liz got to the business of opening her present. She slid the ribbon off gracefully and let it fall to the ground before tearing at the paper. One hand circled around something hard and stable, and she slid the object out, freeing it from its paper vestment.
She gasped at what she saw there. It was a portrait, artfully placed in a white wooden frame with a two-inch light pink mat around the border. The portrait inside Liz recognized as having been taken from a 3x5 inch photograph which sat on the table in the hallway of her parent’s apartment. It had been taken several years ago, when Liz was fourteen years old and they’d gone on a rare family vacation to visit her aunt in Florida. One day her mother and aunt had taken her to the botanical gardens. The fans had created a gentle breeze inside the greenhouse, which was in full bloom. Liz was sitting on a bench with some hanging ivy in the background, creating a soft green frame for her face. The sunshine, muted by the building’s fogged glass, mixed with her body’s natural flush and made her face glow with healthy pink tints in her cheeks. She had been emerging from the last awkward phase of puberty into a graceful teenager with a face that spoke of the journey still remaining before her. All at once as she’d sat on that bench, the fans made her hair swoop up, and at the same time a white butterfly flew up to her and hovered only a few inches from her face. Liz remembered it clearly; she could have sworn she had locked eyes with the butterfly in those brief seconds before it fluttered away and was never seen again.
With all the skill of a professional photographer, her aunt had captured the moment perfectly on her camera, with Liz’s face and flowing dark hair at the left and the butterfly in the center, clearly discernable from the green backdrop of the ivy. Her mother had fallen in love with the picture and placed it in a space where every member of the family walked past at least twice a day. Max had clearly noticed it too, and turned it into a beautiful portrait that looked as though it might come to life at any second. But the face in it was not Liz as she’d been at fourteen; instead, it was the image of her as she was now, at seventeen, when the womanly potential in the photograph had been recognized. At the bottom, in curly script, there was a quote: “Love is like a butterfly: it goes where it pleases and pleases wherever it goes. -Anonymous”.
“Max…” Liz breathed.
“Do you like it?” he hoped.
Liz could only nod as she stared at its beauty. “How-how did you …?”
“I used watercolors. And … I had a little help.”
“Michael?”
“No,” Max laughed. He lifted his hand and turned them around a little, stating his point.
Liz shook her head as she stared at the portrait again. “It’s so beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” Max took her hands in his. “I was wasting time in homeroom going through Ms. Hardy’s quotation-ary, and when I saw that quote it made me think of the picture. Because you’re like that for me. And I just … wanted you to know that you’ll always have my love. No matter what.” He kissed her hands. “I love you so much, Liz.”
“I love you too,” she said with tears in her eyes. His hands left hers to cradle her face and gently caress her face. But it wasn’t enough just to touch, not for Max. He leaned in and took yet another kiss which she eagerly gave. Uncomfortable with his legs hanging off the side of the chaise, feet on the ground, Max leaned away to take her present out of her lap and place it gently on the ground, taking care not to break the glass frame. And then he went back in of her delicious mouth wanting more, more, always more.
When Liz felt her back lean against the back of the lounge with Max’s weight on top, she suddenly remembered something. “Oh!” she pushed him off. “I have your present, too!” Before Max knew what was happening, she’d dashed across the balcony and was gracefully ducking into her bedroom. He hesitated only for a moment before following her, knowing he didn’t want to spend this night anywhere else but in the warm cocoon of her room. He reached down to grip the portrait and carry it in to her.
He put his feet solidly on the soft carpet and looked up. Liz was kneeling in front of her desk, fishing something out of the bottom drawer. The room was dark, and the moon coming in through her large bay windows shone off her silky hair, making it glow with an almost blue hue. He had time to take only one step forward before she stood up again and turned around. She held two presents, one a small and lightweight, the other greater in size and volume. The paper was dark blue with snowflakes, and a thin white ribbon tied the two presents together. Then Liz saw what he carried in his hands. “Trade you,” she smiled. Max returned the smile, and they exchanged presents. Liz put hers down on her desk and watched as Max peeled back the ribbon from the two presents, going for the smaller one first. “I feel kinda bad,” he said as he tore the paper. “You got me two presents, and I only got you one.”
“Well, one of them isn’t really a present. At least, not from this year.”
A small white box with a familiar weight was revealed to Max’s eyes. He shook it twice and recognized the clunk-clunk. His eyes met hers. “Is this what I think it is?” Liz didn’t respond as his fingers lifted the lid. Sure enough, inside was the red and silver pocketknife which she’d given him for Christmas last year, the pocketknife which he’d returned to her before going to New York with Rath and Lonnie. Like his gift had done to her, Max couldn’t think of a thing to say. “Liz …”
“It’s still yours. It always was. I could never be just friends with you either, Max. I always meant to give this back to you when I could.”
“I never should have given it back to you in the first place. I wasn’t raised to return my gifts, and it’s not a habit I intend to get used to.” Max took her hand and kissed it again.
Liz blushed. “Open the other one.”
Max obeyed. This present was heavier, more solid. It felt like … it looked like … it was …
“…A book?”
“Not just any book,” Liz laughed.
Max finished divesting the present of the wrapping. “‘Tales of the South Pacific’? Um, Liz, not that I’m not grateful, but you know I already own a copy of this, don’t you? I mean, you’ve seen it.”
“This is a different copy. It’s a first edition. My grandma bought it, and when I was thirteen, she gave it to me. I know you already have a copy, but I wanted you to have this one, too. Open the front cover.” Max obeyed, and he at once saw what she’d wanted him to see.
September 6, 1996
Dear Liz,
I know you always loved this story, and I thought it was time to pass this along to you. Your grandfather gave this book to me when it first appeared on the New York Times Bestseller’s list. After he died, I took it with me when I started traveling. I guess I’ve kept it as a reminder of my own great love, for your grandfather was my soulmate. This wasn’t the most expensive gift he ever gave me, but the characters in it spoke to me in a way few other books ever did. They’re all searching so desperately for something real, and when they’re lucky enough to find it, they are foolish or unlucky enough to let it slip through their fingers. My precious grandchild, I hope you find your soulmate, and when you do, I hope you hold on to it tightly and never let him go.
I love you.
Your Grandma Claudia
December 25, 2000
Dear Max,
Don’t think that I’m skimping out on your Christmas gift. I wanted you to have something of mine, something I loved. I remembered when we talked about this book that day out in the desert. That night I went home and I wrote in my journal for the first time since the day I left you at the rocks. I opened this book and read my grandma’s note to me. I want you to know, Max, that I don’t want to be like some of the characters in this book. I want to fight for you, for us. And however long it takes or however difficult it may be, I’ll always fight for you. That day in the desert, neither of us was really talking about Joe and Liat, and everything you said was right. I’m happier with you than I ever was without you. So thank you for making me happy, and above all, from the bottom of my heart and soul, thank you for loving me.
I love you,
Liz
Max had tears in his eyes when he finished reading the two inscriptions. He put the book down and opened his arms to Liz, who wordlessly stepped into them. They wrapped their arms around each other, sensing each other’s souls and spirits. “Liz,” he whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for fighting for us. Thank you for loving me. You own my soul, Liz. You know you do.”
Liz looked up at him. One hand slid under his shirt and over his warm beating heart, and then other held him close to her. “Call it even, then?”
Max mimicked her arm’s positions. “Never. Never even. I’ll always want more. I’ll want to give,” he kissed the left corner of her mouth, and she hitched in a ragged breath “and take,” he kissed the right corner, making Liz moan, “more.” Then he covered her lips with his, and for the rest of the night they gave and took to their hearts’ content.
~*~*~*~
“I have to go,” Max tried to stand up only to have Liz pull him back down again.
“No,” she pouted, “stay.”
“I’ll be back here in a few hours,” he smiled as she wedged her soft thigh between his strong ones and kissed his chest. Oh, it was so difficult to think straight when she did that.
“You won’t be in here,” she mumbled, her mouth full of Max.
When she closed her mouth over his nipple, he grasped both her face with both hands and pulled her up to him, needing to feel her mouth on his. When he broke away again, they were both breathless. “I can be,” he breathed heavily. “Later.”
Liz felt wanton; she didn’t want him to go, but she knew he had to, and knowing that, she wanted to make sure he’d be coming back to her bed tonight. As Max placed beautiful wet kisses down her throat, she readjusted herself so that she was straddling him and sneaked her hand down his chest and beautiful stomach. She’d lost count of how many times she’d been struck by disbelief that they were together like this, skin to skin, soul to soul.
Didn’t mean a girl couldn’t have a little fun.
She reached lower still and closed her small hand around a part of Max’s body that was very happy to see her. Smiling in reaction to his ragged breath, she gently eased her hand up and down. At the same time she opened herself up to him, letting him see, take, plunder her soul as he wished. When he was on the brink of his pleasure, she removed her hand and hopped off of him onto the floor. Spotting his pants from the night before, she took them in her hand and held them out to him. Max still lay in the same position on the bed, his head leaned back and his mouth opened with pleasure and shock from her sudden departure. Finally he turned to her with glazed and pleading eyes. “You have to go now,” she said, putting on her most innocent face.
Max groaned, “Baby, don’t leave me like this.”
“Come back to me later and I’ll finish,” she smiled. She tossed his jeans over his spread legs and sat on the bed next to him before laying a light peck on his lips. “And don’t even think about helping yourself out between now and then. I’ll know.”
“God, I love you.”
The fact that he could say that, in his position, made Liz want to abandon her plan and take advantage of him right now. But no, he was the one who wanted to leave. “I know. Now, you said something about leaving.”
Max let out a long sigh and fell back against the pillows as he struggled to get his body under control. A thought struck him that he couldn’t stop from saying aloud. “I could stay with you like this for the rest of my life, Liz.”
His statement, the sincerity in his eyes, and the way he gently took her hand and intertwined their fingers as he spoke, made Liz shiver with wonderment. “Really?”
He nodded. “That’s what I want. Liz, I know we’re young, and I know there’s no possible way we can make plans for any real length of time with things the way they are now, but I want you to know that that’s what I’m working towards. Being with you for the rest of my life.”
“Me, too. I want that, too. With you.” Liz inched closer to him, and Max reached out to hold her.
“So we’re agreed? This is it?”
Liz stretched out over him. “This is it.” They kissed on it, and before either of them knew it, the jeans had found their way back to the floor. Max didn’t leave for rather a long time afterwards.
~*~*~
The sign on the door of the Crashdown read that it was closed for Christmas Day, but true intimates of the family knew better. By the time the Evans family arrived a little after two o’clock, the festivities were in full swing. There was one long, rectangular table on which sat the presents that would be exchanged; the other tables were pushed together from the front of the café to the back, with sixteen beautifully set places for everyone. The tables were covered with matching red tablecloths, the napkins were gold-colored with forest-green napkin holders in the shape of Christmas trees. Nancy used her best plate settings which she’d inherited from her grandmother, white with a curly gold trim around the edges, and silver cutlery. Candles glittered everywhere.
The countertop displayed all the food to be consumed. Nancy had cooked goose l’orange with stuffing and prepared sliced tomatoes drizzled with balsamic vinegar, olive oil and oregano. Diane brought a spinach salad with cranberries and walnuts and homemade rolls, along with four bottles of cabernet she’d been saving from a vacation to California. Gloria Whitman made the green bean casserole as well as bow-tie pasta with basil alfredo sauce. Amy Deluca had offered to contribute the appetizers, and had arrived with a plate of fruits and cheeses and another cold fish plate. The latter was approached with some apprehension (no one wanted to ask how she’d found fresh fish in land-locked New Mexico), but their fears turned out to be misplaced. The Parkers told Michael not to bring any food; he worked as a cook five days a week already and deserved a break for Christmas. The Valentis said that they would cover dessert, and though Nancy baked some Christmas cookies nonetheless, she doubted anyone would get to them when she saw Kyle and Jim enter the café with their arms full of pink pie boxes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” Tess said as she entered with the Valenti men, “thank you for having me here today. My dad never really got into the holidays; this is actually the first real Christmas dinner I’ve ever had. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Tess,” Mr. Parker said. “We’re glad you could make it.”
Mrs. Parker reached out. “Tess, let me take some of those presents for you. We’re putting them over here.” Tess followed to help. When they’d finished, the entire group sat down to dinner – all sixteen of them: three Parkers, four Evanses, three Whitmans, two Delucas, two Valentis, one Guerin and one Harding. Tess and the Valentis had been invited due to Liz’s persuasion; when she’d discovered the list of attendees, she wanted to make sure Tess and Kyle weren’t left out. Apparently, Tess had been rather gung ho about having a big family Christmas dinner as well, so it had worked out well.
Dinner was served buffet-style amidst laughter and conversation and the Beach Boys Christmas Album (Mr. Parker’s choice, Max was willing to bet). The group was dispersed well: Jeff sat at the head of the table with Nancy to his right, then Tess next to her, followed Kyle, Maria, Max, Diane, and Isabel. Philip sat at the other end of the table across from Jeff, with Jim Valenti on his right, next Amy, Alex, Charles Whitman, his wife Gloria, Alex, Liz, and Michael sitting next to Jeff. Amy and Jim continued their mild flirtation throughout dinner, much to the chagrin of their children. The Whitmans, who had always been a tight-knit family, sat together, though Alex spent most of his time talking with Liz. Nancy and Jeff made an effort to engage Tess in conversation and make her feel welcome. Idle small chat was the order of the day; inquiries into work and school were the norm. When Nancy asked what everyone at the table had done that morning, they went around by family and told each other about opening presents, which gifts were a surprise, and which gifts they’d known had been coming. By far the funniest story was that Philip and Diane Evans had both bought each other the same CD player for their cars; but whereas Mrs. Evans had wrapped Philips gift with paper, Philip had simply put a big bright bow and a “To Diane, From Philip” tag. When Diane and the kids had entered the living room to open presents, she’d thought that Philip had opened his gift already and, much to his confusion, admonished him for it!
After everyone had finished eating and the dinner plates had been brought upstairs, Nancy took out the pie plates and several forks. Since he’d been the one to contribute the pies, Jim Valenti was allowed to cut them for everyone. There was a Dutch Apple pie, strawberry, lemon meringue, pumpkin, pecan and cherry; in other words, something for everyone. As Jeff started the coffee pot, Nancy placed the cookies she’d baked on a large platter. Spying a semi-private moment, Jeff walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist while laying soft kisses along her neck. Nancy leaned against him even as she said, “Stop that! You’re going to scandalize our guests.”
“No one’s paying attention,” he said as he bit her earlobe.
“They will be if you keep that up,” she smiled. Jeff stopped, but he didn’t move away, opting instead to simply nuzzle her soft skin and breathe her scent. Nancy covered his arms with her own as she looked out on the group they’d assembled for Christmas dinner. “I’m happy, Jeff,” she signed contentedly. “You make me so happy.” Jeff didn’t need to say a word in response. He simply turned her in his arms and kissed her.
Liz was coming down the stairs when she halted to a stop after spying her parents through the window from the kitchen. While a part of her was embarrassed at her parent’s public displays of affection, a larger part of her was mildly jealous and wondered when the time would come that she and Max could be that open. She knew there were very good reasons for not going public with their relationship right now, but she didn’t want things to stay that way forever. With a sigh, she continued down the stairs and back into the dining room as inconspicuously as she could. Let her parents have that moment.
~*~*~
Dessert had been eaten and presents had been exchanged, and now the evening was drawing to a close as far as the adults were concerned. But there was one more tradition to go through.
Wordlessly, Jeff jerked his head at Alex, who nodded in response and helped him move the tables and chairs out of the way, creating an open space where everyone could walk freely. Most of the guests were snuggled into booths or sitting at the counter. When Nancy saw what was going on, she went upstairs to search for the CD case. She made it back downstairs just as Jeff was beginning his speech. “Well, everyone, we’ve eaten and exchanged gifts, and now it’s time to start working off all those calories. Nancy?” Nancy put a few CDs into the five-disc stereo and flipped it to the track she wanted. Then she walked towards Jeff and took his open hand. He pulled her into his arms and began to dance with her B.B King began to play and sing.
Merry Christmas baby,
You sure do treat me nice.
Merry Christmas baby,
You sure do treat me nice.
Gave me a diamond ring for Christmas,
Now I’m living in paradise.
One by one, the other adults got up to dance as well. Even the Sheriff subjected himself to humiliation by asking Amy to dance and then stepping on her toes repeatedly. Alex got up from the booth he was sitting in with Liz, Michael and Maria and went over to where Isabel was sitting next to her brother and across from Tess and Kyle. “M’lady?” he offered his hand to her. A smile peeked at the corners of Isabel’s lips, but she tried to stifle it as best she could, her survival instincts kicking in and urging her to protect herself by not letting anyone get too close. Still, that didn’t stop her from taking his hand and letting him lead her out onto the floor. Alex sensed her hesitation and didn’t hold her too close for fear of scaring her off. Kyle apparently thought that Alex had a good idea, for he stood up and slid into Liz’s booth and asked her for a dance, too. Maria had to stand up in order to let Liz out. On any other day, when she sat down again, Maria might have picked a fight with Michael over why he hadn’t asked her to dance as well. Today, though, she was too content to give the guy a hard time. Instead, they just sat there watching everybody else.
At the next booth, Tess and Max were left alone to observe their friends and families as well. Max tried to keep his eyes from straying to Liz, but Tess noticed that he would look at her until he realized he was staring, then look away, only to have his gaze return to her again at last.
‘Merry Christmas Baby’ came to an end, and a new song came on … another Beach Boys song, but not a Christmas one. Jeff gave Nancy the fish-eye. “You switched CDs on me!”
“Jeff, if I have to listen to that Christmas album one more time …” she said without any real venom in her voice.
“Hey, a good thing never changes!” Jeff defended with a smile. He let out a chuckle and pulled her closer. “Dance with me, my fool.”
Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older,
And we wouldn’t have to wait so long?
And wouldn’t it be nice to live together,
In the kind of world where we’d belong?
You know it’s gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together
“Hey Kyle,” Alex spoke up, “mind if I cut in?” He gracefully twirled Isabel out of his arms while capturing Liz’s hand and bringing her into them. Kyle, sadly, lacked Alex’s finesse, and made Isabel trip over his feet.
“Ow! Kyle!”
Kyle blushed. “Sorry.” Isabel let out an exasperated sigh; partly because of her trip, and partly because … she would have liked to dance with Alex some more. She looked at Liz, so happy dancing with Alex, and wished that it was her.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new?
And after having spent the day together,
Hold each other close the whole night through?
The happy times together we’ve been spending,
I wish that every kiss was never-ending.
Wouldn’t it be nice?
Max knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he couldn’t stand the fact that Alex was free to hold Liz and touch her and dance with her as much as he wanted, while he was confined to that booth, all for the sake of appearances.
Tess had to say something before she lost her temper. “Why don’t you just ask her to dance already?” she said to Max.
Max looked at her in shock. “What?”
“Liz,” Tess clarified. “Why don’t you just ask her to dance?” Max looked down at his lap and didn’t answer her. “Oh, come on, Max. I see the way you’ve been looking at her, and the way she’s been looking at you.” That got Max’s attention; he looked back up at Tess, and then at Liz, and then back at Tess again.
Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray
It might come true.
Baby then there wouldn’t be a single thing
We couldn’t do.
We could be married, we could be married;
And then we’d be happy, and then we’d be happy
Oh, wouldn’t it be nice?
“Look,” she said, “it’s okay, Max. I know that you and her still have feelings for each other, and that you’ve been trying to keep it a secret for a while now. I can only assume that a part of why you’re doing that is because of me, and I’m sorry for making you feel that uncomfortable. But you don’t have to, Max. I get it, I really do. You’ve never looked at me the way that you look at her. And … that’s okay. So go on, go be with her.”
Max was agape. Was she serious? Was she honestly telling him that he didn’t need to hide for her anymore? Max felt like he’d been handed the world and he didn’t know what to do with it. “Tess, I --”
Tess cut him off. “Don’t. Whatever it is, just don’t. You’re an idiot if you don’t take advantage of what you have there. I hope … I hope that we can be friends, though. I’ve liked being your friend these last couple of months.” She took a moment to let her words sink in. “Do you think we can do that?”
Max nodded slowly. “Yeah, we can do that.”
You know it seems the more we talk about it,
It only makes it worse to live without it,
But let’s talk about it.
Oh wouldn’t it be nice?
“So go on,” Tess smiled. “Go dance with her.”
Max could literally feel the weight of the weeks of secrecy and hiding falling from his shoulders at her words. He stood up and walked over to Tess’s side of the booth then leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Tess.”
“You’re welcome.”
Max stood up again and turned around. Like many other times in the last several weeks, Max locked his eyes on Liz. Unlike those other times, he didn't bother to check himself anymore. He rose from the table and walked over to her. The other inhabitants of the café seemed to disappear as he approached her. When she looked up and saw him, her breath caught in her throat. He looked so strong, so beautiful, so confident, and at the same time virile and predatory.
Alex sensed that her attention had been diverted elsewhere. He followed the direction of Liz's eyes and saw Max's approach. Sensing he was about to be most unwelcome, he let go of Liz and stepped out of the way. Max took his place without even realizing that Alex had moved away. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. The other hand snaked up her back and cradled her neck as he leaned down and ran his lips lightly over her forehead, taking in her sweet scent of strawberry shampoo and intoxicating pheromones. Liz began to tremble; her legs felt as though they were going to fall out from under her, and she had t hook her arms around Max and cling for support. "Max?" she managed. "What are you doing?"
"Dancing," he whispered back.
"But Max ... you know we can't. Tess ..."
"Tess was the one who suggested that I ask you. Besides," he smiled and held her closer yet, letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her at that moment, "I still owe you a dance. Remember? Senor Chou's last year?"
Liz was certain that she was about to melt into the floor when she felt Max's fingers trace the outline of her shirt's V-shaped back as the music changed and a new song began. "But Max, it's so soon."
"We won't overdo it. I won't even kiss you. I just want to dance with you." And that's exactly what they did.
You ask me if there'll come a time
When I grow tired of you.
Never my love,
Never my love.
You wonder if this heart of mine
Will lose its desire for you.
Never my love,
Never my love.
What makes you think love will end,
When you know that my whole life depends on you?
You say you fear I'll change my mind,
And I won't require you.
Never my love,
Never my love.
How can you think love will end
When I've asked you to share your whole life with me?
Though Max was true to his word and refrained even from kissing her, it was evident to everyone present that the two of them may as well have been the only couple in the world.
~*~*~
Continued in the next post
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Wed May 09, 2007 8:32 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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LairaBehr4
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~*~*~
The next morning, before he'd snuck back to his own home, Max asked Liz out for their first official date ... again. She readily accepted.
In the days between Christmas and New Years, they made an effort to spend some time with the group at least once a day, and to make sure that when they said "group", they included Tess into the number. Max had relayed the details of his conversation with her to Liz; but even with her offered olive branch and blessing, as it were, Liz didn't wish to take the chance that she and Max, and then the others by extension, would isolate Tess with too many outward displays of intimacy. So they held hands, grazed knees, grasped elbows, but were careful not to do anything else. As they were both very private people, it wasn't especially difficult ... most of the time.
Another thing they did was spend every night together. Before, they’d spent perhaps two, three nights a week together if they were lucky; they hadn’t wanted to call undue attention to themselves by making a regular habit of sneaking in and out if the other’s rooms, especially when they still had school and their friends to account to. But now, with Tess’s awareness of their situation and the days of vacation ahead, they forgot about all the reasons why they ought to stay apart. Sometimes Liz would sneak out of her house or have Maria cover for her when she stayed in the warm sanctuary of Max's bed. Other times, it was Michael who covered for Max when he made the climb up the ladder to Liz's room. Some nights were spent in passionate soul-awakening love making; other nights they passed in hedonistic pleasures that left both of them gasping and unable to move. And then there was one night, when both of them had worked a full day's shift and Liz had put in several more hours on top of that, when the two of them slid under the covers of Liz's bed, pajamas on, and passed the entire evening sharing only soft words and kisses as they spooned against every possible inch of warm and delicious skin which the other had to offer.
New Year’s Eve fell on a Sunday that year, and most of the Crashdown’s usual staff was away for a long weekend, which meant that Nancy and Jeff had to work the floor and register along with Liz for the annual Crashdown New Year’s Eve party for the residents of Roswell’s Desert Inn Retirement Community. Due to the shortness of staff, Jeff had to ask Michael to come in to work the kitchen. Michael gladly accepted when he heard that he’d be paid double his usual hourly salary for working the holiday, and thus he was initiated into yet another Parker family tradition.
One booth in Liz’s section was occupied solely by men: widowers, she guessed. Every time she went to that table to take and deliver their food and drinks, at least one occupant remarked on how pretty she was. “How’d we get so lucky, to be served by an angel?” asked one man. Another man exclaimed, after she approached, “Oh! Here she is! Beauty in motion!”
After the last game of Bingo ended and the thirty-minute countdown to Crashdown Midnight commenced, Liz found herself called over to the table yet again. Putting on her best fake smile, she went to ask what they needed, to which the men responded that they needed her to tell them which lucky man among them would she kiss at midnight. Liz opened her mouth to tell them that she wasn’t sure that her boyfriend would quite appreciate her kissing any one of them. But before she could say anything, she felt the brush of Max’s soul against hers and heard the bell over the front door ring out. She broke out into a wide smile, knowing in just a few seconds that she’d feel Max wrap his arms around her.
Sure enough, seconds later two strong arms snaked around her waist. “Hi, honey,” Max said in a honey-filled tone that was meant as much for their audience as it was for her. “You miss me?”
Liz turned in his arms and, for the sake of expelling any doubts by their onlookers, gave him a long, deep kiss. “Desperately.” She turned her head towards the table. “Was there anything else?”
A murmur of “no’s” was barely audible. Liz grabbed Max’s hand and dragged him to the back room, where she kissed him once again. “Thank God you got here,” she mumbled between kisses. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry,” Max had been trying to get out of the house since Liz had first sent out her S.O.S. via their own special method of communication. “I had to wait for my parents to go to sleep.”
“Hmmm,” Liz moaned as Max started biting at her earlobe and slid one hand down to cup her ass and grind her hips into his. “How was Dick Clark?”
“Predictable,” Max bit into the skin of her neck. “Boring.” He soothed the spot with his tongue. “Republican.”
Just when Liz thought she was going to have to put a stop to their activities, her father did it for her. “Lizzie?” she heard him call.
“Oh, no! I gotta get back out there.” She started for the door, but Max pulled her hand and drew her back to him, kissing her on the lips once more. They shared a smile as they walked back into the dining room together. Max deposited himself on an empty stool at the counter and turned around so that he could follow Liz with his eyes all night.
The old widowers didn’t give her any more trouble.
At 10:29, Max once again walked up to Liz and engulfed her in his arms. Jeff took Nancy’s hand in his and they walked over to the cactus with all the resolutions pinned to it. When there were twenty seconds left, Jeff produced a box of matches from his back pocket. At ten seconds, as all the voices raised to count backwards to one, both he and Nancy lit a match.
Max rested his head on Liz’s shoulder as they both beheld the familiar and exhilarating scene. Liz’s eyes were locked on her parents as Max bent his lips to whisper with certainty into her ear, “That’ll be us someday.” Liz looked up at him and their eyes locked just as everyone around them called out, “Happy New Year!” Nancy and Jeff dropped their matches into the cactus pot and stood back to watch it burn. Liz and Max were concerned only with the light that the dancing flames caused in the other’s eyes and against their skin as they shared a kiss full of promises for the New Year. The warmth that they each felt inside, however, had absolutely nothing to do with the fire.
~*~*~
Max stuck around to help clean up the Crashdown with Michael and the Parkers after the folks from the retirement community went home to their beds. At 11:15, Jeff told Michael to go spend the rest of his New Years with Maria, which he was glad to do.
It took about half an hour for the other four to finish cleaning the kitchen and dining room. Jeff and Nancy wished Max a happy New Year and thanked him for all his help. Max wished them a happy New Year in turn, and gave Liz a quick kiss goodnight before walking out the front door, which Jeff locked after him. Together the family of three walked up the stairs and into their home as they reminisced about the evening. In the living room Liz kissed both her parents goodnight before hurrying down the hall to her bedroom, where she knew exactly what – or rather, who – was waiting for her.
Max grabbed her arm as soon as the door was open and immediately wrapped it around his neck. Her other arm followed of its own volition as he kissed her, first flicking his tongue flirtatiously with hers before he started to devour her. Liz clung to him as his kiss sent sparks of pleasure through her body. She’d been humming for him for over an hour, ever since his first sizzling entrance into the café earlier, and their contact at ten-thirty had left her desperate to feel him everywhere around and within her. Her fingers began to dig into Max’s shirt, and she curled her fingers to drag it upwards, finally flicking it over his head.
Max pulled back to allow her to peel his shirt from him, and took the opportunity to gently take the alien antenna head band from the crown of her head and to slip off the rubber band that held her hair in a ponytail with his thumb. Rather than taking her mouth again, though, he ran his fingers all over her soft, beautiful face and through her hair, which was rougher than usual with dirt and sweat from her long shift. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered adoringly. He traced her eyebrows, her hairline, her jaw, her gorgeous swollen lips. Liz covered his hand with her own and dipped his thumb into her mouth, delighting in his spicy, fleshy taste. Max’s breath hitched. While Liz circled his thumb with her tongue, he brought his other hand to the crest of her uniform and unsnapped the first snap. He traced her skin along the edge of her dress, over the soft swell of her breasts, into the first hint of cleavage in the V of the uniform, then up again to trace the exposed bra straps to the top of her shoulder before descending again. When he again reached the bottom of the V, he unsnapped another snap and resumed his light stroking, this time touching into the small hole between her skin and the apex of her flesh-toned bra.
Now it was Liz’s turn to gasp at the heat soaring through her body with his touch. A third snap went, and he traced her sternum, then her breast over the cup of her bra, then back down again. By the time the fourth snap was out of his way, she’d let go of his other hand entirely. He felt her warm breath flow over his thumb, wet with the moisture from her mouth, and he had to kiss her again. He started walking her backwards towards her bed; her hands went for the buckle of his belt; the rest of her dress he tried to work away from her in a hurry. His zipper went down and her hand went inside his boxers, tickling the hair there before slipping down further and caressing his hot skin as best she could. “Ah! Liz!” he cried out. His hands cupped around her neck and pulled her away, causing her hand to away from him. He tore the dress off her shoulders and down, and that’s when he saw … her. Bare except for her bra. She’d been wearing a bra, but no panties. “Oh, wow … he breathed. He looked back into her eyes and chuckled, “You’re so lucky I didn’t know about this before.”
“I almost told you,” she smiled back, tracing his biceps with her fingertips as his arms came around her again. “Downstairs. When you first arrived.”
“You held out on me?” he ran one hand from the back of her thigh, drawing small circles on one pliable globe, before tracing up her spine and, with a skill he’d mastered in the past few weeks, unhooked her bra with one hand. Oh yeah. James Bond had nothing on Max Evans.
Liz’s body twisted with a feline air under Max’s petting, her head cocked to one side and her shoulders moving in circles while her hands dropped to his hips, lightly slipping his pants and boxers down. “It was worth it, wasn’t it?”
Max quietly stripped her of her bra, eventually forcing her to relinquish, only momentarily, her hold in his body. “Definitely. Definitely worth it.” He stepped out of his pants. Liz took the opportunity to step away from the bed, where he’d been steering them to, and instead stepped lightly through the open door into the bathroom. At first, Max could only gape after her. After all, while they’d certainly had their fun since they’d surrendered their virginities to each other, they hadn’t ever been so adventurous as to make love anywhere but in bed … and, well, once on the floor. But suddenly the bathroom seemed to contain so many new and exciting possibilities. When he heard the water running, Max immediately ran in after her.
Instead of standing in the shower as he expected, Liz sat on the edge of the tub as she filled it with piping hot water from which an intoxicating steam rose. She was pouring a capful of strawberry scented bubble bath into the rising water. Then she reached for a vanilla scented bubble bath and poured a capful of that in as well, letting the two scents mix to a delightful feminine and distinctly Liz-scented aroma. Then she looked up at him and silently told him what she wanted him to do, and he obeyed. He closed the door to the bathroom and climbed into the tub, laying down as fully as he could before he held out his hand to help her in after him. Liz got as comfortable as she could get with Max’s alert appendage poking into her backside, and finally settled on him so that he lay between her legs, caressing her heated center without actually entering it. He begged her to have mercy on him, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pleading into her mind. She responded aloud, “Slow. We can go slow. There’s no rush.” It was an echo of the words he’d said to her the first night they’d made love, and it worked in staving off his lust … at least for a while.
They lay together, touching and caressing, for several minutes before Liz asked him, “Did you make any resolutions, Max?”
Max smelled her hair and said, “Yes.”
“What were they?”
“To spend as much time with you as possible.”
“You do that already,” she smiled.
“I can do better. What about you? Did you make any resolutions?”
“Just one. I want to try to live my life a little more fully. Not to be more daring or reckless, just … not as afraid of what’ll happen if I don’t try to fix everything. I don’t want to let other things dictate my actions as much. I want to try to live for me for a while. Do you think that sounds selfish?”
“Not at all. The last thing you are is selfish, Liz. And I kinda like your resolution. I think that might be how we got so messed up in the first place, was by trying to fix everything ourselves.”
“So, no more going it alone.”
“Sounds good. Let’s kiss on it.”
Liz laughed. “Mr. Evans, you have a dirty mind.”
“Not dirty. Captivated.”
Liz turned over so she could look down on him. “Does that mean you’re my prisoner?”
Max ran his hands across her slippery skin, holding her head and threading his fingers through her hair. “Isn’t it obvioius?”
Liz leaned down to kiss him, and at the same time she sat up to anchor her legs to the bottom of the tub. As she slid onto him, she pulled away from the kiss slightly and whispered, “Happy New Year, Max.”
“Happy New Year.”
Liz undulated over him, splashing water and bubbles onto the floor as she rubbed her clit against Max’s swollen member, taking her pleasure to ecstatic heights while she fed him her tongue. She moved so slow, both of them literally ached to reach their end, and it was the most enjoyable ache either had ever known. Max anchored his feet to the tiled wall so that he could thrust into her more deeply. She felt so wonderful … her walls felt like wet silky clouds, and he knew that any moment now, she’d make him feel like he was flying.
Sure enough, seconds later he felt her fluttering around him, and he let go with a cry as he pulled her into his arms. I love you, Liz, he whispered into her soul. He knew she was too content at the moment to respond. It was okay. He didn’t need her to.
He knew the moment when she came back to herself; the deep breath betrayed her. A moment afterwards, she said softly, “Water’s cold.” Max sat up and took her with him, then waved his hand over the water, simultaneously warming it up again and making it clean and new. Then he made her lie on her back with her head near the toilet as he sat down, her legs stretched out over his folded ones in the cramped tub. “I always wanted to do this,” he murmured as he reached out for her shampoo. He poured some into his hand and put the bottle back on the tub’s ledge, then used it to work Liz’s hair into a rich lather. His position wasn’t entirely comfortable, his legs tangled with hers as he leaned over her, trying to give her as much room as possible so that he could watch her while he fulfilled this fantasy. But never did he question whether it was worth it.
When he was sure her hair had been cleaned, he slid one hand behind her neck and tilted her head up. Silently he told her to stay just like that. Then he cupped the bathwater with his hands and poured it over her head, washing the suds away. When her hair was pristine again, he reached for the conditioner and glided the thick gel-like substance through her tresses. Everything about her at that moment felt so soft, so incredibly and beautifully soft. Max didn’t even notice he’d started massaging her scalp until she moaned, and that moan reminded him of all the other things he wanted to do before the night was over. He removed her hands from her head, kissed her lightly, and proceeded to try to rinse out the conditioner as he’d done the shampoo. But the water was so full of soap that it was hopeless. So he pulled the plug from the tub drain and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature for her. When it was just right, he cradled her head under the falling stream, moving it around so that soon Liz’s hair fell long and thick and clean beneath her. He lifted her up again so that she was in a sitting position, facing him. Max reached behind her and turned off the water before returning his hands to her hair to wring out the excess water. Liz’s hands, for the first time since he’d started his little project, reached up and began to caress his forearms. She leaned her forehead against his and kissed him lightly. “I love you,” she said. He’d known it was coming.
Max stood up and climbed out of the bathtub, then reached out to help her do the same. Liz didn’t hesitate in curling herself into his body in defense against the cold desert night air that hit her wet body. Max grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her; she took it from his hands and locked her arms together around his chest. Then he took another towel and flung it around his own shoulders before mimicking her position. He smiled down at her, and she smiled up at him. The kiss that followed was so natural, neither could have resisted if they’d wanted to. Which they definitely didn’t.
When they broke apart, Max pleaded in a hushed tone, “Come to bed with me.”
Liz giggled, “It’s my bed.”
“Then let me come to bed with you.”
She leaned back and looked to the side, pretending to think about it. For good measure, she bit her lip until he groaned and held her tighter. “Well … okay.”
“Tease,” he chided before swooping in and claiming her mouth.
When he let go, he started to dry her off, worried she’d catch cold. His action gave her an idea. “Can I try something?” she asked.
“Of course.” Liz dropped her towel and raised her hands to the base of Max’s skull. She closed her eyes and concentrated as she ran her hands over his hair to his forehead, and then back down again. She opened her eyes; instead of seeing Max’s hair wet and spiky, pointing out in every conceivable direction, it was dry and neat.
“Hey! Look! I did it!”
“Yes you did!” Max smiled at her excitement.
“I’ve been practicing so much, around the house and in the café.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Max asked, concerned. “Any more headaches or stomach aches?”
Liz shook her head. “Nothing. I think the more I do it, like just practice it and try to make it a part of my routine, the less it bothers me.”
“That’s good,” he smiled. “I’m so proud.” He had to bend down and kiss her again; she was just too irresistible when she was so happy and excited. But the congratulatory kiss quickly escalated and soon they were fumbling towards the bed. Liz managed to pull back the sheets and climb in even as Max continued pressing kisses wherever he could against her. He joined her almost instantly, lying comfortably between her open legs, plastering kisses all over her satiny skin and wondering vaguely how much of the moisture he felt as he pressed into her was leftover from their bath, and how much of it was just her. Amazingly, he managed a conscious non-sex related thought in the midst of these lusty activities, and shocked Liz somewhat when he pulled away and looked down at her. “What?” she cried out, pulling at him to come back to her. He relieved her worries with his mind, and then proceeded to do what he’d intended; he ran his hands over her hair as she’d so recently done to him, drying it for her.
“I just didn’t want you to catch cold,” he said.
Liz couldn’t believe it. Every time she thought she knew everything about Max, he did something that completely blew her away. In those moments, moments like the one she was having right now, she just couldn’t believe that he was hers. She pulled him down again and kissed him as she worked on aligning their bodies to join again.
In the middle of their kiss, Max heard her beg him in his mind, ‘Come inside me, Max, and he immediately complied. It didn’t matter that they’d made love a short time ago; the need to be back inside of her was painful, and the only possible remedy was the friction he now created between their bodies with his movements. The sensation of thrusting into her, then of reaching out to her with his soul and feeling what it was like for her as well, was invigorating and erotic, and it was only from all the practice he’d had over the past weeks that he didn’t fall over the edge right there. Instead, he pulled out of her and flipped her over on the bed, then molded his body to fit hers. He moved her hair away from her neck and laid kisses on every one of her delicious freckles. She had so many more of them here than on her chest. One hand stayed in her hair, caressing, and the other moved under her body to massage her clitoris before he made them one again.
Liz dug her mouth into her pillow to stifle the loud moans which were growing in pitch and intensity with every one of his strokes. She knew that he intended to keep her like this until she exploded, but she wanted him to come with her. “Max,” she said in a pleasure-filled voice she barely registered as her own, “come with me.”
“I will,” he promised, and bit into her neck as he pinched her swollen button. That did it, and she cried aloud as very ground gave out from under her as she fell.
Remnants of her orgasm were still sweeping through her body when he flipped her over again and once again entered her still-fluttering walls. She conformed to him; she covered him. She fit him so perfectly.
Liz could literally feel Max touching her very soul as he worshipped her as reverently as any fervor-filled follower ever did. By now he knew just where to touch, just how to caress, just what to hit as their love-making continued. She reached up under his arms to his shoulders and tightened her grip there. He understood her silent request and sat up from where his head had rested in the hollow of her neck to look in her eyes. A moment after he did, they both shattered into a thousand pieces so violently they could do nothing but gasp in amazement and cling to each other tightly.
The pleasure ran its fulfilling course through their bodies, feeding off of each other’s heaving gasps and sharp movements. When they came back to themselves they were even yet reluctant to let go. Max finally flipped onto his side with placing his back against the window so that Liz wouldn’t be exposed to the cold air. Their change in position made him pull out of her a little; when they both mourned the loss, Max curled his legs around Liz’s and slid back in. She welcomed him and kept him warm and safe even though he was fully spent for the night. They ran their hands and arms along each other’s bodies until they could no longer resist the need for sleep. After all, tomorrow would be another day.
~*~*~*~
On Tuesday morning, Max pulled the jeep into the West Roswell student parking lot. He barely waited to cut the engine before leaping out and heading towards the gate. He couldn’t wait to see Liz; they’d only gotten in one more round of love-making on New Year’s Day before he’d had to sneak back home, and unfortunately, his parents were waiting for him. He couldn’t tell if this was the first time they’d noticed his absence, or the first time they’d stopped pretending not to, but either way they’d taken away his car keys for the day and informed him that sleepovers were expressly prohibited in the future. A long telephone conversation with Liz had yielded some very interesting ideas on how to enjoy themselves without “sleepovers”; and Max was impatient to try a few of them out.
“Max! God! Can’t you wait?” Isabel snapped as he left her behind. Dutifully he waited for her, but he could honestly say that he didn’t like her very much at that moment.
They hadn’t taken ten steps towards the gate when they heard Alex call, “Hey, guys! Wait up!” Max had to stop himself from groaning out loud. “Hey, morning,” Alex said when he’d caught up.
“Morning,” Max returned before he continued marching towards school.
“Did you guys finish that Spanish paper for Señor Valdez?” Alex asked. “I swear, the guy just comes up with this stuff to torture us. Five pages on the most horrific scenes from the Spanish Civil War? In Spanish?”
“I know,” Isabel concurred. “Who even cares about the Spanish Civil War?”
“Not me.”
“Me, either.”
Max didn’t say a word. He was nearly at the gate now and tried to open his mind to Liz’s when suddenly, --
“Hel-lo, party people!” Maria smiled with her Vanna White pose. “Did you miss me?”
“We all saw you the day before yesterday, Maria,” Alex reminded her.
Maria pouted. “And you didn’t miss me?”
Max tried to hurry back onto his path – only a few steps further before he was inside of the B wing and could work on finding Liz.
He was just about to cross over the threshold when a Michael-shaped blur placed a hand on his chest. “Hey, yo, Maxwell,” he said. “You got any ideas for what I can write for that Spanish paper for Valdez?”
Spanish? What was Spanish? “Uh, no,” Max managed to say without tripping up. The whole world had clearly gone insane today. He needed to find Liz.
A small voice peeped up behind the group. “Hey.” Max turned, but he already knew it wasn’t Liz. Sure enough, he saw a mop of sleek curly blonde hair. “Hey, Tess,” he said. “Hey, Tess,” everyone else mumbled.
Max turned back to the crowd of students occupying the B wing. For the first day back from Christmas break, people seemed to be surprisingly awake and alert. There was little trace of the usual vacation sluggishness reflected in the faces and movements of Max’s schoolmates today. But sadly there was no trace of the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else.
A loud, shrill beep alerting the crowds to a pending announcement rang out from the speakers in the hallway. There was a shared hatred of that beep by students and faculty alike, and no one could ever figure out why the school hadn’t replaced the P.A. system. The voice of Mrs. Johnson, the 257-year-old school secretary (at least, that was her rumored age) called out, “Will the following students please come to the principal’s office: Maria Deluca, Isabel Evans, Max Evans, Michael Guerin, Tess Harding, Kyle Valenti, and Alex Whitman. Maria Deluca, Isabel Evans, Max Evans, Michael Guerin, Tess Harding, Kyle Valenti, and Alex Whitman, please come to the office.”
The five of them shared a look that clearly said, “Oh, shit.”
One by one they turned and started walking in silence towards the administration building, located about fifty feet away. With every step, their worries grew. Were they caught? Had someone found out about the secret they shared? Why else were they all being called to the office? With every step, each of them could swear that the Sword of Damocles was poised directly over their heads, and at any moment it would fall.
Kyle caught up with them from the gym, having arrived early for basketball training. One look at their panicked faces told him that they all feared the worst. “Anyone know what this is about?” he asked, just to be sure. Silence was his only answer. He stepped into line with the rest of them.
When they all entered the administration building, Mrs. Johnson motioned towards the principal’s office with a downtrodden wave. “He’s in there waiting for you,” she said.
Max led them to the Principal Forrester’s door and knocked. “Yes?” he heard, and opened the door. When he walked in, Max was shocked at the crowd already assembled there. His parents were there, as well as the Whitmans, Sheriff Valenti in his uniform, and Amy Deluca. There were also a man and a woman that he didn’t recognize; the man wore a casual suit, and the woman wore a brown pencil skirt and light blue oxford shirt. All of them sported sympathetic expressions.
“Mom? Dad?” Isabel asked as she stepped inside.
“Mom?” Maria said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mom on campus; Amy was a former wild child and tended to understand that the last place a parent should be was on her kid’s high school campus at the same time that said kid was there. “What’s going on?”
It was then that Max noticed that several empty chairs had been brought into the office and were gathered in one corner. When he looked back and Principal Forrester and his parents, something told him they were all going to be there for a while.
Principal Forrester took in a deep, shaky breath before he began, “We wanted to let you guys know first, that … there’s been a death among the students.”
Max’s throat closed up. He already knew who it was. But it couldn’t be true! It just couldn’t be true. He took a step backwards as Maria stuttered, “Wh-who? Who was it?”
Philip Evans saw his son stumble and started walking towards him.
Principal Forrester breathed in another terrible breath.
Philip reached his arms out to keep Max from falling, but it was already too late.
“It was Liz Parker.”
~*~*~
TBC
The next morning, before he'd snuck back to his own home, Max asked Liz out for their first official date ... again. She readily accepted.
In the days between Christmas and New Years, they made an effort to spend some time with the group at least once a day, and to make sure that when they said "group", they included Tess into the number. Max had relayed the details of his conversation with her to Liz; but even with her offered olive branch and blessing, as it were, Liz didn't wish to take the chance that she and Max, and then the others by extension, would isolate Tess with too many outward displays of intimacy. So they held hands, grazed knees, grasped elbows, but were careful not to do anything else. As they were both very private people, it wasn't especially difficult ... most of the time.
Another thing they did was spend every night together. Before, they’d spent perhaps two, three nights a week together if they were lucky; they hadn’t wanted to call undue attention to themselves by making a regular habit of sneaking in and out if the other’s rooms, especially when they still had school and their friends to account to. But now, with Tess’s awareness of their situation and the days of vacation ahead, they forgot about all the reasons why they ought to stay apart. Sometimes Liz would sneak out of her house or have Maria cover for her when she stayed in the warm sanctuary of Max's bed. Other times, it was Michael who covered for Max when he made the climb up the ladder to Liz's room. Some nights were spent in passionate soul-awakening love making; other nights they passed in hedonistic pleasures that left both of them gasping and unable to move. And then there was one night, when both of them had worked a full day's shift and Liz had put in several more hours on top of that, when the two of them slid under the covers of Liz's bed, pajamas on, and passed the entire evening sharing only soft words and kisses as they spooned against every possible inch of warm and delicious skin which the other had to offer.
New Year’s Eve fell on a Sunday that year, and most of the Crashdown’s usual staff was away for a long weekend, which meant that Nancy and Jeff had to work the floor and register along with Liz for the annual Crashdown New Year’s Eve party for the residents of Roswell’s Desert Inn Retirement Community. Due to the shortness of staff, Jeff had to ask Michael to come in to work the kitchen. Michael gladly accepted when he heard that he’d be paid double his usual hourly salary for working the holiday, and thus he was initiated into yet another Parker family tradition.
One booth in Liz’s section was occupied solely by men: widowers, she guessed. Every time she went to that table to take and deliver their food and drinks, at least one occupant remarked on how pretty she was. “How’d we get so lucky, to be served by an angel?” asked one man. Another man exclaimed, after she approached, “Oh! Here she is! Beauty in motion!”
After the last game of Bingo ended and the thirty-minute countdown to Crashdown Midnight commenced, Liz found herself called over to the table yet again. Putting on her best fake smile, she went to ask what they needed, to which the men responded that they needed her to tell them which lucky man among them would she kiss at midnight. Liz opened her mouth to tell them that she wasn’t sure that her boyfriend would quite appreciate her kissing any one of them. But before she could say anything, she felt the brush of Max’s soul against hers and heard the bell over the front door ring out. She broke out into a wide smile, knowing in just a few seconds that she’d feel Max wrap his arms around her.
Sure enough, seconds later two strong arms snaked around her waist. “Hi, honey,” Max said in a honey-filled tone that was meant as much for their audience as it was for her. “You miss me?”
Liz turned in his arms and, for the sake of expelling any doubts by their onlookers, gave him a long, deep kiss. “Desperately.” She turned her head towards the table. “Was there anything else?”
A murmur of “no’s” was barely audible. Liz grabbed Max’s hand and dragged him to the back room, where she kissed him once again. “Thank God you got here,” she mumbled between kisses. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry,” Max had been trying to get out of the house since Liz had first sent out her S.O.S. via their own special method of communication. “I had to wait for my parents to go to sleep.”
“Hmmm,” Liz moaned as Max started biting at her earlobe and slid one hand down to cup her ass and grind her hips into his. “How was Dick Clark?”
“Predictable,” Max bit into the skin of her neck. “Boring.” He soothed the spot with his tongue. “Republican.”
Just when Liz thought she was going to have to put a stop to their activities, her father did it for her. “Lizzie?” she heard him call.
“Oh, no! I gotta get back out there.” She started for the door, but Max pulled her hand and drew her back to him, kissing her on the lips once more. They shared a smile as they walked back into the dining room together. Max deposited himself on an empty stool at the counter and turned around so that he could follow Liz with his eyes all night.
The old widowers didn’t give her any more trouble.
At 10:29, Max once again walked up to Liz and engulfed her in his arms. Jeff took Nancy’s hand in his and they walked over to the cactus with all the resolutions pinned to it. When there were twenty seconds left, Jeff produced a box of matches from his back pocket. At ten seconds, as all the voices raised to count backwards to one, both he and Nancy lit a match.
Max rested his head on Liz’s shoulder as they both beheld the familiar and exhilarating scene. Liz’s eyes were locked on her parents as Max bent his lips to whisper with certainty into her ear, “That’ll be us someday.” Liz looked up at him and their eyes locked just as everyone around them called out, “Happy New Year!” Nancy and Jeff dropped their matches into the cactus pot and stood back to watch it burn. Liz and Max were concerned only with the light that the dancing flames caused in the other’s eyes and against their skin as they shared a kiss full of promises for the New Year. The warmth that they each felt inside, however, had absolutely nothing to do with the fire.
~*~*~
Max stuck around to help clean up the Crashdown with Michael and the Parkers after the folks from the retirement community went home to their beds. At 11:15, Jeff told Michael to go spend the rest of his New Years with Maria, which he was glad to do.
It took about half an hour for the other four to finish cleaning the kitchen and dining room. Jeff and Nancy wished Max a happy New Year and thanked him for all his help. Max wished them a happy New Year in turn, and gave Liz a quick kiss goodnight before walking out the front door, which Jeff locked after him. Together the family of three walked up the stairs and into their home as they reminisced about the evening. In the living room Liz kissed both her parents goodnight before hurrying down the hall to her bedroom, where she knew exactly what – or rather, who – was waiting for her.
Max grabbed her arm as soon as the door was open and immediately wrapped it around his neck. Her other arm followed of its own volition as he kissed her, first flicking his tongue flirtatiously with hers before he started to devour her. Liz clung to him as his kiss sent sparks of pleasure through her body. She’d been humming for him for over an hour, ever since his first sizzling entrance into the café earlier, and their contact at ten-thirty had left her desperate to feel him everywhere around and within her. Her fingers began to dig into Max’s shirt, and she curled her fingers to drag it upwards, finally flicking it over his head.
Max pulled back to allow her to peel his shirt from him, and took the opportunity to gently take the alien antenna head band from the crown of her head and to slip off the rubber band that held her hair in a ponytail with his thumb. Rather than taking her mouth again, though, he ran his fingers all over her soft, beautiful face and through her hair, which was rougher than usual with dirt and sweat from her long shift. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered adoringly. He traced her eyebrows, her hairline, her jaw, her gorgeous swollen lips. Liz covered his hand with her own and dipped his thumb into her mouth, delighting in his spicy, fleshy taste. Max’s breath hitched. While Liz circled his thumb with her tongue, he brought his other hand to the crest of her uniform and unsnapped the first snap. He traced her skin along the edge of her dress, over the soft swell of her breasts, into the first hint of cleavage in the V of the uniform, then up again to trace the exposed bra straps to the top of her shoulder before descending again. When he again reached the bottom of the V, he unsnapped another snap and resumed his light stroking, this time touching into the small hole between her skin and the apex of her flesh-toned bra.
Now it was Liz’s turn to gasp at the heat soaring through her body with his touch. A third snap went, and he traced her sternum, then her breast over the cup of her bra, then back down again. By the time the fourth snap was out of his way, she’d let go of his other hand entirely. He felt her warm breath flow over his thumb, wet with the moisture from her mouth, and he had to kiss her again. He started walking her backwards towards her bed; her hands went for the buckle of his belt; the rest of her dress he tried to work away from her in a hurry. His zipper went down and her hand went inside his boxers, tickling the hair there before slipping down further and caressing his hot skin as best she could. “Ah! Liz!” he cried out. His hands cupped around her neck and pulled her away, causing her hand to away from him. He tore the dress off her shoulders and down, and that’s when he saw … her. Bare except for her bra. She’d been wearing a bra, but no panties. “Oh, wow … he breathed. He looked back into her eyes and chuckled, “You’re so lucky I didn’t know about this before.”
“I almost told you,” she smiled back, tracing his biceps with her fingertips as his arms came around her again. “Downstairs. When you first arrived.”
“You held out on me?” he ran one hand from the back of her thigh, drawing small circles on one pliable globe, before tracing up her spine and, with a skill he’d mastered in the past few weeks, unhooked her bra with one hand. Oh yeah. James Bond had nothing on Max Evans.
Liz’s body twisted with a feline air under Max’s petting, her head cocked to one side and her shoulders moving in circles while her hands dropped to his hips, lightly slipping his pants and boxers down. “It was worth it, wasn’t it?”
Max quietly stripped her of her bra, eventually forcing her to relinquish, only momentarily, her hold in his body. “Definitely. Definitely worth it.” He stepped out of his pants. Liz took the opportunity to step away from the bed, where he’d been steering them to, and instead stepped lightly through the open door into the bathroom. At first, Max could only gape after her. After all, while they’d certainly had their fun since they’d surrendered their virginities to each other, they hadn’t ever been so adventurous as to make love anywhere but in bed … and, well, once on the floor. But suddenly the bathroom seemed to contain so many new and exciting possibilities. When he heard the water running, Max immediately ran in after her.
Instead of standing in the shower as he expected, Liz sat on the edge of the tub as she filled it with piping hot water from which an intoxicating steam rose. She was pouring a capful of strawberry scented bubble bath into the rising water. Then she reached for a vanilla scented bubble bath and poured a capful of that in as well, letting the two scents mix to a delightful feminine and distinctly Liz-scented aroma. Then she looked up at him and silently told him what she wanted him to do, and he obeyed. He closed the door to the bathroom and climbed into the tub, laying down as fully as he could before he held out his hand to help her in after him. Liz got as comfortable as she could get with Max’s alert appendage poking into her backside, and finally settled on him so that he lay between her legs, caressing her heated center without actually entering it. He begged her to have mercy on him, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pleading into her mind. She responded aloud, “Slow. We can go slow. There’s no rush.” It was an echo of the words he’d said to her the first night they’d made love, and it worked in staving off his lust … at least for a while.
They lay together, touching and caressing, for several minutes before Liz asked him, “Did you make any resolutions, Max?”
Max smelled her hair and said, “Yes.”
“What were they?”
“To spend as much time with you as possible.”
“You do that already,” she smiled.
“I can do better. What about you? Did you make any resolutions?”
“Just one. I want to try to live my life a little more fully. Not to be more daring or reckless, just … not as afraid of what’ll happen if I don’t try to fix everything. I don’t want to let other things dictate my actions as much. I want to try to live for me for a while. Do you think that sounds selfish?”
“Not at all. The last thing you are is selfish, Liz. And I kinda like your resolution. I think that might be how we got so messed up in the first place, was by trying to fix everything ourselves.”
“So, no more going it alone.”
“Sounds good. Let’s kiss on it.”
Liz laughed. “Mr. Evans, you have a dirty mind.”
“Not dirty. Captivated.”
Liz turned over so she could look down on him. “Does that mean you’re my prisoner?”
Max ran his hands across her slippery skin, holding her head and threading his fingers through her hair. “Isn’t it obvioius?”
Liz leaned down to kiss him, and at the same time she sat up to anchor her legs to the bottom of the tub. As she slid onto him, she pulled away from the kiss slightly and whispered, “Happy New Year, Max.”
“Happy New Year.”
Liz undulated over him, splashing water and bubbles onto the floor as she rubbed her clit against Max’s swollen member, taking her pleasure to ecstatic heights while she fed him her tongue. She moved so slow, both of them literally ached to reach their end, and it was the most enjoyable ache either had ever known. Max anchored his feet to the tiled wall so that he could thrust into her more deeply. She felt so wonderful … her walls felt like wet silky clouds, and he knew that any moment now, she’d make him feel like he was flying.
Sure enough, seconds later he felt her fluttering around him, and he let go with a cry as he pulled her into his arms. I love you, Liz, he whispered into her soul. He knew she was too content at the moment to respond. It was okay. He didn’t need her to.
He knew the moment when she came back to herself; the deep breath betrayed her. A moment afterwards, she said softly, “Water’s cold.” Max sat up and took her with him, then waved his hand over the water, simultaneously warming it up again and making it clean and new. Then he made her lie on her back with her head near the toilet as he sat down, her legs stretched out over his folded ones in the cramped tub. “I always wanted to do this,” he murmured as he reached out for her shampoo. He poured some into his hand and put the bottle back on the tub’s ledge, then used it to work Liz’s hair into a rich lather. His position wasn’t entirely comfortable, his legs tangled with hers as he leaned over her, trying to give her as much room as possible so that he could watch her while he fulfilled this fantasy. But never did he question whether it was worth it.
When he was sure her hair had been cleaned, he slid one hand behind her neck and tilted her head up. Silently he told her to stay just like that. Then he cupped the bathwater with his hands and poured it over her head, washing the suds away. When her hair was pristine again, he reached for the conditioner and glided the thick gel-like substance through her tresses. Everything about her at that moment felt so soft, so incredibly and beautifully soft. Max didn’t even notice he’d started massaging her scalp until she moaned, and that moan reminded him of all the other things he wanted to do before the night was over. He removed her hands from her head, kissed her lightly, and proceeded to try to rinse out the conditioner as he’d done the shampoo. But the water was so full of soap that it was hopeless. So he pulled the plug from the tub drain and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature for her. When it was just right, he cradled her head under the falling stream, moving it around so that soon Liz’s hair fell long and thick and clean beneath her. He lifted her up again so that she was in a sitting position, facing him. Max reached behind her and turned off the water before returning his hands to her hair to wring out the excess water. Liz’s hands, for the first time since he’d started his little project, reached up and began to caress his forearms. She leaned her forehead against his and kissed him lightly. “I love you,” she said. He’d known it was coming.
Max stood up and climbed out of the bathtub, then reached out to help her do the same. Liz didn’t hesitate in curling herself into his body in defense against the cold desert night air that hit her wet body. Max grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her; she took it from his hands and locked her arms together around his chest. Then he took another towel and flung it around his own shoulders before mimicking her position. He smiled down at her, and she smiled up at him. The kiss that followed was so natural, neither could have resisted if they’d wanted to. Which they definitely didn’t.
When they broke apart, Max pleaded in a hushed tone, “Come to bed with me.”
Liz giggled, “It’s my bed.”
“Then let me come to bed with you.”
She leaned back and looked to the side, pretending to think about it. For good measure, she bit her lip until he groaned and held her tighter. “Well … okay.”
“Tease,” he chided before swooping in and claiming her mouth.
When he let go, he started to dry her off, worried she’d catch cold. His action gave her an idea. “Can I try something?” she asked.
“Of course.” Liz dropped her towel and raised her hands to the base of Max’s skull. She closed her eyes and concentrated as she ran her hands over his hair to his forehead, and then back down again. She opened her eyes; instead of seeing Max’s hair wet and spiky, pointing out in every conceivable direction, it was dry and neat.
“Hey! Look! I did it!”
“Yes you did!” Max smiled at her excitement.
“I’ve been practicing so much, around the house and in the café.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Max asked, concerned. “Any more headaches or stomach aches?”
Liz shook her head. “Nothing. I think the more I do it, like just practice it and try to make it a part of my routine, the less it bothers me.”
“That’s good,” he smiled. “I’m so proud.” He had to bend down and kiss her again; she was just too irresistible when she was so happy and excited. But the congratulatory kiss quickly escalated and soon they were fumbling towards the bed. Liz managed to pull back the sheets and climb in even as Max continued pressing kisses wherever he could against her. He joined her almost instantly, lying comfortably between her open legs, plastering kisses all over her satiny skin and wondering vaguely how much of the moisture he felt as he pressed into her was leftover from their bath, and how much of it was just her. Amazingly, he managed a conscious non-sex related thought in the midst of these lusty activities, and shocked Liz somewhat when he pulled away and looked down at her. “What?” she cried out, pulling at him to come back to her. He relieved her worries with his mind, and then proceeded to do what he’d intended; he ran his hands over her hair as she’d so recently done to him, drying it for her.
“I just didn’t want you to catch cold,” he said.
Liz couldn’t believe it. Every time she thought she knew everything about Max, he did something that completely blew her away. In those moments, moments like the one she was having right now, she just couldn’t believe that he was hers. She pulled him down again and kissed him as she worked on aligning their bodies to join again.
In the middle of their kiss, Max heard her beg him in his mind, ‘Come inside me, Max, and he immediately complied. It didn’t matter that they’d made love a short time ago; the need to be back inside of her was painful, and the only possible remedy was the friction he now created between their bodies with his movements. The sensation of thrusting into her, then of reaching out to her with his soul and feeling what it was like for her as well, was invigorating and erotic, and it was only from all the practice he’d had over the past weeks that he didn’t fall over the edge right there. Instead, he pulled out of her and flipped her over on the bed, then molded his body to fit hers. He moved her hair away from her neck and laid kisses on every one of her delicious freckles. She had so many more of them here than on her chest. One hand stayed in her hair, caressing, and the other moved under her body to massage her clitoris before he made them one again.
Liz dug her mouth into her pillow to stifle the loud moans which were growing in pitch and intensity with every one of his strokes. She knew that he intended to keep her like this until she exploded, but she wanted him to come with her. “Max,” she said in a pleasure-filled voice she barely registered as her own, “come with me.”
“I will,” he promised, and bit into her neck as he pinched her swollen button. That did it, and she cried aloud as very ground gave out from under her as she fell.
Remnants of her orgasm were still sweeping through her body when he flipped her over again and once again entered her still-fluttering walls. She conformed to him; she covered him. She fit him so perfectly.
Liz could literally feel Max touching her very soul as he worshipped her as reverently as any fervor-filled follower ever did. By now he knew just where to touch, just how to caress, just what to hit as their love-making continued. She reached up under his arms to his shoulders and tightened her grip there. He understood her silent request and sat up from where his head had rested in the hollow of her neck to look in her eyes. A moment after he did, they both shattered into a thousand pieces so violently they could do nothing but gasp in amazement and cling to each other tightly.
The pleasure ran its fulfilling course through their bodies, feeding off of each other’s heaving gasps and sharp movements. When they came back to themselves they were even yet reluctant to let go. Max finally flipped onto his side with placing his back against the window so that Liz wouldn’t be exposed to the cold air. Their change in position made him pull out of her a little; when they both mourned the loss, Max curled his legs around Liz’s and slid back in. She welcomed him and kept him warm and safe even though he was fully spent for the night. They ran their hands and arms along each other’s bodies until they could no longer resist the need for sleep. After all, tomorrow would be another day.
~*~*~*~
On Tuesday morning, Max pulled the jeep into the West Roswell student parking lot. He barely waited to cut the engine before leaping out and heading towards the gate. He couldn’t wait to see Liz; they’d only gotten in one more round of love-making on New Year’s Day before he’d had to sneak back home, and unfortunately, his parents were waiting for him. He couldn’t tell if this was the first time they’d noticed his absence, or the first time they’d stopped pretending not to, but either way they’d taken away his car keys for the day and informed him that sleepovers were expressly prohibited in the future. A long telephone conversation with Liz had yielded some very interesting ideas on how to enjoy themselves without “sleepovers”; and Max was impatient to try a few of them out.
“Max! God! Can’t you wait?” Isabel snapped as he left her behind. Dutifully he waited for her, but he could honestly say that he didn’t like her very much at that moment.
They hadn’t taken ten steps towards the gate when they heard Alex call, “Hey, guys! Wait up!” Max had to stop himself from groaning out loud. “Hey, morning,” Alex said when he’d caught up.
“Morning,” Max returned before he continued marching towards school.
“Did you guys finish that Spanish paper for Señor Valdez?” Alex asked. “I swear, the guy just comes up with this stuff to torture us. Five pages on the most horrific scenes from the Spanish Civil War? In Spanish?”
“I know,” Isabel concurred. “Who even cares about the Spanish Civil War?”
“Not me.”
“Me, either.”
Max didn’t say a word. He was nearly at the gate now and tried to open his mind to Liz’s when suddenly, --
“Hel-lo, party people!” Maria smiled with her Vanna White pose. “Did you miss me?”
“We all saw you the day before yesterday, Maria,” Alex reminded her.
Maria pouted. “And you didn’t miss me?”
Max tried to hurry back onto his path – only a few steps further before he was inside of the B wing and could work on finding Liz.
He was just about to cross over the threshold when a Michael-shaped blur placed a hand on his chest. “Hey, yo, Maxwell,” he said. “You got any ideas for what I can write for that Spanish paper for Valdez?”
Spanish? What was Spanish? “Uh, no,” Max managed to say without tripping up. The whole world had clearly gone insane today. He needed to find Liz.
A small voice peeped up behind the group. “Hey.” Max turned, but he already knew it wasn’t Liz. Sure enough, he saw a mop of sleek curly blonde hair. “Hey, Tess,” he said. “Hey, Tess,” everyone else mumbled.
Max turned back to the crowd of students occupying the B wing. For the first day back from Christmas break, people seemed to be surprisingly awake and alert. There was little trace of the usual vacation sluggishness reflected in the faces and movements of Max’s schoolmates today. But sadly there was no trace of the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else.
A loud, shrill beep alerting the crowds to a pending announcement rang out from the speakers in the hallway. There was a shared hatred of that beep by students and faculty alike, and no one could ever figure out why the school hadn’t replaced the P.A. system. The voice of Mrs. Johnson, the 257-year-old school secretary (at least, that was her rumored age) called out, “Will the following students please come to the principal’s office: Maria Deluca, Isabel Evans, Max Evans, Michael Guerin, Tess Harding, Kyle Valenti, and Alex Whitman. Maria Deluca, Isabel Evans, Max Evans, Michael Guerin, Tess Harding, Kyle Valenti, and Alex Whitman, please come to the office.”
The five of them shared a look that clearly said, “Oh, shit.”
One by one they turned and started walking in silence towards the administration building, located about fifty feet away. With every step, their worries grew. Were they caught? Had someone found out about the secret they shared? Why else were they all being called to the office? With every step, each of them could swear that the Sword of Damocles was poised directly over their heads, and at any moment it would fall.
Kyle caught up with them from the gym, having arrived early for basketball training. One look at their panicked faces told him that they all feared the worst. “Anyone know what this is about?” he asked, just to be sure. Silence was his only answer. He stepped into line with the rest of them.
When they all entered the administration building, Mrs. Johnson motioned towards the principal’s office with a downtrodden wave. “He’s in there waiting for you,” she said.
Max led them to the Principal Forrester’s door and knocked. “Yes?” he heard, and opened the door. When he walked in, Max was shocked at the crowd already assembled there. His parents were there, as well as the Whitmans, Sheriff Valenti in his uniform, and Amy Deluca. There were also a man and a woman that he didn’t recognize; the man wore a casual suit, and the woman wore a brown pencil skirt and light blue oxford shirt. All of them sported sympathetic expressions.
“Mom? Dad?” Isabel asked as she stepped inside.
“Mom?” Maria said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mom on campus; Amy was a former wild child and tended to understand that the last place a parent should be was on her kid’s high school campus at the same time that said kid was there. “What’s going on?”
It was then that Max noticed that several empty chairs had been brought into the office and were gathered in one corner. When he looked back and Principal Forrester and his parents, something told him they were all going to be there for a while.
Principal Forrester took in a deep, shaky breath before he began, “We wanted to let you guys know first, that … there’s been a death among the students.”
Max’s throat closed up. He already knew who it was. But it couldn’t be true! It just couldn’t be true. He took a step backwards as Maria stuttered, “Wh-who? Who was it?”
Philip Evans saw his son stumble and started walking towards him.
Principal Forrester breathed in another terrible breath.
Philip reached his arms out to keep Max from falling, but it was already too late.
“It was Liz Parker.”
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Thu May 10, 2007 1:33 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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LairaBehr4
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My thanks to the following:
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max and liz believer
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belleoftheball - don't you have a story to work on?
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Some situations - but no direct lines of dialogue (I think) - were taken from 'Cry Your Name'.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-one – Broken Hearts Club
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part.
You roll out of bed and down on your knees,
And for a moment you can hardly breathe,
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No, she's not,
‘Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The giving up is the hardest part.
She takes you in with her crying eyes,
Then all at once you have to say goodbye,
Wondering could you stay, my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No, she can't,
‘Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hands?
Would you get them if I did?
No, you won't,
Cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part.
- Dreaming With A Broken Heart
John Mayer
Diane Evans jumped up from the table, panicked as she heard footsteps heading towards the kitchen. The last thing she wanted her children to see was the front-page story in the newspaper about Liz Parker’s death. The article enraged her on several levels, especially the comment by Pam Troy. From what she’d understood, Pam and Liz were about as friendly as a couple of great white sharks. And Diane was willing to bet money that Pam had been more than eager to deceive the interviewers about her “friendship” with Liz at the chance of getting her name in the paper.
Desperate, Diane jerked open the oven door and tossed the folded-up paper inside. She closed the oven again just as she was joined in the kitchen by her husband. “Oh, thank God,” she said. “I thought you were one of the kids.”
Philip shook his head sadly. He walked over to his wife and gave her a hug. “Are they up yet?”
Diane shook her head against Philip’s shoulder without letting go. “I told them they didn’t have to go to school today if they didn’t want to.”
Philip nodded, agreeing. He released his wife and gave her a quick peck on the forehead while saying a silent prayer for the safety of his own family. His mother was fond of quoting, “there but for the grace of God go I.” The saying rarely hit home the way it did today.
Diane watched as Philip put a piece of toast into the toaster and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked around the kitchen somewhat absently. “Have you seen the paper?” It was then that Diane remembered her folly. A little bashful, she retrieved it from its hiding place. Philip gave her a quizzical look as she handed it to him. His eyes followed hers to the paper; he opened it up and immediately saw the story. Now he understood. He handed it back to her. “I’ll read it at the office.” She gave him a small smile and put the paper back in the oven.
Philip took his coffee to the table and sat down at the head, next to where Diane’s coffee cup sat. “Have you checked on Max?”
Diane nodded sadly. “I looked in on him this morning. He was asleep.” At least he stopped crying, they both thought. Max hadn’t stopped crying since he’d heard the news. He’d fallen to the floor in the principal’s office, as had Maria. He’d sobbed so heart-wrenchingly that it brought tears to his parents’ eyes. He’d been violent for the first time, throwing punches at his father, screaming that their joke wasn’t funny. It had taken over an hour before his parents were able to calm him down enough to take him to the car and drive him home. Diane had taken him home in her car, while Philip had driven Isabel in the Jeep. The other parents had gotten their kids out of there sooner, wanting to get them home as quickly as possible. But Max had been impossible to move.
As she’d driven, Diane had kept an eye on her baby. His sobs subsided somewhat, but the tears continued to stream down his cheeks. She wondered how he’d had any tears left. When they’d arrived home Max went straight to his room and closed the door. Sometimes he’d cried out in horrible, unrelenting howls of pain that echoed through the house and shook the walls. Other times, he relapsed into utter silence. It was hard to say which one was worse for his parents to endure. But not once had he come out of his room.
Philip’s toast popped out of the toaster, and he stood to get it. Diane stopped him with her hand. “I’ll get it,” she said. She put it on a plate and brought it to him, then fetched the apple butter that Philip loved and put it next to him with a butter knife. She stood watching as he applied it to the toast. She took a deep breath. “Philip, I’m going to need the checkbook today.”
“What for?” he asked with muted curiosity. Everything was muted today.
“I want to give the Parkers some money.”
Philip heard his wife’s tone and looked up at her. She wore an expression on her face that he hadn’t seen in over twelve years; not since they’d come home from dropping off two shivering, unclothed children at the Roswell Orphanage. Diane had walked in, sat down on the couch in the living room, looked at her husband as he’d locked the front door, and told him that one day soon they were going to go back to that orphanage and bring their children back home. There had been something in her voice, a determination mixed with absolute certainty, and her bright blue eyes had shone with a passion and fire that she rarely displayed. That same voice was back, with the fire in her eyes to match. In the normal day-to-day routine of their marriage, Philip made most of the decisions, and Diane was more disposed to live quietly and peacefully. But when she made a decision, that decision was treated as holier than law. One look at his wife and Philip knew now, as he’d known then, that there would be no argument, no excuses, no giving up until things came to pass exactly as Diane stated.
“How much were you thinking of giving them?”
Diane sat down at the table with him. “I was thinking of about seven thousand.”
Philip looked down at his toast. For a funeral, seven thousand could be rather modest. “You think that’s enough?” he frowned and looked back at her.
“I don’t know. I … I thought I’d ask Gloria what she thinks. She’s known them longer, and …” she trailed off, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Philip reached out and pulled her chair closer to his, grunting with the effort. That had definitely been easier to do 20 years ago. But once she was close enough, he reached out and put his arms around her again. Eagerly she fell into his embrace, leaning against his suit-covered chest while warming her hands on her coffee cup. “I’ll leave it on the dresser,” he told her gently as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. Together they contemplated the tragedy that had struck their children’s lives. Both would have given anything in their power to spare their children even a moment of the pain that they knew awaited them over the coming days.
~*~*~
A soft voice pulled Max from the dark recesses of his dreamless, morose sleep. His eyes were sore and dry, but the vision he beheld when they opened made him forget his discomfort at once. “Liz,” he breathed.
There she was, smiling at him. Immediately he bolted upright in his bed and opened his arms to her. She didn’t hesitate to fall into them. “Liz, Liz, Liz,” he murmured as he rained kisses upon her face, lips and neck. “They said you were…”
“Shh,” she comforted him. “It was just a mistake. It was all a mistake. I’m all right.” She kissed his lips. “I’m all right.”
“God, Liz, oh God,” Max tightened his grip on her and felt life returning to his veins with every one of her kisses. “I thought you died. I thought I died.”
“No,” Liz softly reassured him. “No, no, no, no, no. I’m fine, love. But Max … Max, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” he whispered as he ran his lips over every available millimeter of her skin.
“Open your eyes,” she commanded gently.
A dread fell over Max. No. His eyes were open, damn it. And he wasn’t going to change a damn thing about this moment. “No.”
“Max, open your eyes.”
“No!” he cried. He tried to crush her to him, but instead she floated away, out of his arms … away, away, away.
“Open your eyes, Max. Max, you have to open your eyes.” Her sweet voice shifted into broken tones that sounded like his sister, as her beautiful form faded into black.
“Open your eyes. Wake up, Max.” Max obeyed. The air stabbed at his dry eyes. Isabel was kneeling by his bed, one hand on the edge of the mattress. “I heard you crying,” she said. Max couldn’t say anything. The sight of his sister wasn’t half as welcome as the dream he’d just had. “I wasn’t trying to,” Isabel hurriedly explained, taking his silence as a sign of offense. “I just sort of … heard you. You weren’t loud or anything, but somehow I just heard you.”
Max closed his eyes again and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. He didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to change his clothes or brush his teeth or face the world. He wanted Liz back. He wanted her back so badly, his heart was screaming it. But he knew that, if he got up, she wouldn’t be coming back. Staying right where he was was the only option.
Isabel wasn’t sure of what else to say. She sat backwards on her heels with her knees in front of her as she traced the shadows of the shaggy carpet on Max’s floor. “Mom was thinking about going to Alex’s today. Maybe to see the Parkers, if they’re up for it.” She looked up to see how he’d taken her news, but Max remained unmoved. Isabel took a deep breath. “Do you want to come?” She waited for a response, a reaction … anything, but Max still gave no indication that he’d even heard her.
“Max,” she begged, “please … please just say something, anything. Please!” Max stayed perfectly still, his comforter pulled up to his chin. Soft tears began to spill from behind his closed lids.
Isabel recognized that her brother would not be joining them this morning. She stood up. “I’ll come in and see you before we go.”
When she closed the door behind her, Max retreated back into his dream, where Liz surrounded him with her redolent skin, sweet laugh and delicious kisses. He had to fight against the urge to call out to her with his soul, as he’d gotten used to over the past weeks and had done so many times since his worst nightmares had been realized in Principal Forrester’s office. He knew she wouldn’t be there.
~*~*~
Nancy Parker opened her red-rimmed eyes. She was lying on her stomach, her head turned towards her husband, one hand resting on her pillow near her face. She looked into the eyes of her husband, who seemed to have the troubles of all the world on his shoulders as he lay next to her. His jaw was trembling as he gently took her hand. In a voice that sounded very much like her daughter’s, she trembled, “I … I’m not dreaming, am I?” she asked. The answer appeared in the sorrow of his eyes before he slowly shook his head. Nancy closed her eyes again and wished the world away as her tears began to fall.
~*~*~
Gloria Whitman reached the front door even as the chimes from the bell still echoed through her house. Diane Evans was standing there with a sympathetic and grieved look on her face. Isabel stood behind her on one side, eyes downcast. Gloria’s first thought was that she looked a little pale.
“Hi, Gloria,” Diane said.
“Hi … Diane.” She opened the door wider and stood back. “Come-come in.” Diane and Isabel slowly entered. “Good morning, Isabel.”
Isabel wished she could return the sentiment, but there had been nothing good about this morning so far. “Hello, Mrs. Whitman.” Did her voice really sound so broken? “Is, um, is Alex here?”
Gloria nodded. “He’s out in the, uh, back yard, I think. Go on out there. He’ll be glad to see you.” Isabel nodded and got out of the room as quickly as she could without seeming rude.
“I just made some coffee,” was the most of an invitation Gloria could muster. Diane nodded and followed her into the kitchen, understanding that conversation today would be a strain for both of them. Words were trivial in the face of such grief, and everything was filled with heavy solemnity. Still, somehow both women found comfort in the other’s presence, sensing that only the other could understand the anguish each of them felt at seeing their children so broken hearted, and completely powerless to spare them this pain.
“Charles isn’t here?” Diane asked.
Gloria shook her head as she poured coffee into two mugs. “He, um, … he had to go to work today. I think he’ll try to come home early. I took off today and tomorrow.”
Both women sat down at the kitchen table and sipped their coffee for a few minutes in silence. Finally, Diane spoke. “Gloria, I … I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” Gloria raised her eyes, and Diane continued with a deep breath. “I wanted to give the Parkers some money to help with the funeral, but … I don’t know if they’d feel entirely comfortable … taking it from me. I was wondering if I couldn’t write it out to you, and then ask you to give it to them.” She sighed and looked into her coffee cup. “I can’t imagine what they must be going through right now. The last thing they should have to be worried about is money.”
“And you think it’d be better coming from Charles and me.”
Diane nodded. “You’ve known them better, longer, than Philip and I. You don’t have to tell them where the money’s coming from – in fact, I’d prefer it of you didn’t – but I … this is such a nightmare, and I can’t stand the thought of Liz’s parents having to think about what they can afford at a time like this.”
“I know what you mean. Charles and I … we were actually thinking of giving them something as well. We can’t afford much, maybe only two or three thousand, but still …”
Diane sighed with relief and gratitude. “Then you’ll do it?”
“If you let us contribute, too.”
Diane reached out across the table, and Gloria took her hand. The two of them sat together in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
~*~*~
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Alex admitted quietly. They were the first words he’d spoken since Isabel had first joined him, sitting on the stairs of the back porch that led into the Whitman’s yard. He had turned to her when she’d arrived and graced her with a nod, since he found himself unable to smile. Then he’d faced the yard again, surveying the remnants of his childhood that still remained. There was a bright blue bike in one corner, far too small for Alex now, but would have been just his size when he was eleven. Near it sat two helmets, one a dark red and the other pink and green. Alex knew the third helmet, a black and blue one, was in a box in his parent’s garage. Maria and Liz had never collected theirs in the years since the bike had outlived its usefulness. There was also a plastic table and chairs that had seen many summertime lunches and snacks since its acquisition when he was thirteen. Another corner of the yard, under a tree and near the border of bushes that shielded the thick concrete wall which separated their yard from the neighbors, there were three spots where the grass was thinned and brown, each large enough to fit the rump of a human, if all of them touched knees. As he stared at those three spots, Alex could almost see himself and his two best friends, sitting there, talking about everything from music and sports to work and school to kissing and, well, other things. More recently, glowing hands and alien hunters had been added to the list of subjects. Alex called it their little Circle of Truth. Nothing was off-limits. And now, one of its members would be forever absent, never to come again. It wasn’t a circle anymore. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
Isabel put her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she softly told him. “I’m just so sorry.”
He turned and looked at her. Even though there were other things to think about, he couldn’t help but notice that Isabel Evans looked even more beautiful when her face was stripped bare, wearing her emotions for him to see, than she was when she wore even the most flattering of make-up. And he saw that, despite the way he knew she’d sometimes treated Liz in the past, Isabel was experiencing the loss of one of the few people she called her friends. He slipped one hand over hers. “How’s Max?” he asked.
Isabel shook her head. “He’s awful,” she said as her eyes filled with tears. “He won’t get out of bed. He won’t … talk or eat or … or do anything. I’ve never seen him … never seen anyone like that.”
Alex took her hand from his knee and wrapped her long, graceful fingers in his own. “How are you?”
That caused her dams to break as her chest became so heavy, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, Alex … I … I know I wasn’t always nice to her, but I didn’t mean it. I never wanted this to happen.”
“Nobody thinks you did,” he assured her.
Isabel continued sobbing. “My mom … wants us to try to go to school tomorrow. But he …” she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Her sobs suddenly hit her, hard and violent, making her entire body shake. Alex wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and it was her final undoing. She crushed herself to him. Fingers curled into his T-shirt, buried her head in his chest. She wanted warmth; she wanted peace; she wanted the strength she so desperately needed. But she was spent. She wanted to be there for her brother and her friends, but her own soul was starved and empty and needed to be replenished.
Isabel leaned her forehead against Alex and searched for his heartbeat through his shirt. When she found it, she held him tighter, wanting to crawl inside of him to a place where she wouldn’t have to always be so strong, wouldn’t have to feel so guilty. Because she did feel guilty. She felt guilty for treating Liz so harshly so many times. She felt guilty for always being so hard on everyone else, when they, too, could be whisked out of her life as swiftly as Liz had been. And she felt guilty that her brother, her blood, couldn’t take from her what he needed to get through. He was suffering, probably more so than anyone, and she couldn’t even ease his pain by the most miniscule amount.
And Alex took all of this from her, took all of her burden onto his shoulders, felt her sobs choking him like unseen fingers around his throat. Liz’s death caused him as much pain as if a limb had been cut off. The grief, the agony, it threatened to swallow him whole; but with Isabel holding him like this, he knew at least that he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t lose it right now. Right now, he could be here for her. There would be time for him later. And when that time came, he knew she would be there then, too, and would catch him the way he was catching her now.
~*~*~
It took Maria several tries before her eyes would open properly. For some reason they were heavier today than most days. They felt sore, too. Why were they sore? Had she been more tired than she realized? Did she have a sty, maybe?
The sun was shining brightly into her room. Wait a minute, that wasn’t supposed to happen. The sun didn’t come into her room until late in the morning. Today was a Wednesday. She was supposed to be at school. Wasn’t she supposed to be at school? Why wasn’t she at school?
And then she remembered.
Liz was dead.
That was why she wasn’t at school. That was why her eyes were sore and heavy.
Liz was dead.
A soft knock drifted in through her bedroom door. Was it her mom? No, her mom would have just come right in without knocking. Well, she would have done that any other day. But today wasn’t any other day. Today, Liz was dead. Her mom would knock if Liz was dead.
Maria’s brain was so fried, she forgot to tell the knocker to come in. But he did anyway.
“Hey,” Michael’s voice called to her through the now open doorway. She couldn’t remember his voice ever sounding like that.
That was because Liz was dead.
“I brought you some tea,” he said.
Tea? What was tea? What did she care for tea when Liz was dead?
Michael walked over to her bed and gingerly put the cup down over the folded napkin he’d carried in his other hand. When he looked at Maria, he saw her staring at the cup with a frown. He noticed that she’d kicked off her comforter, which lay pooled at her feet, half hanging off the bed. Sensing that Maria wasn’t going to get up anytime soon – she’d cried herself into exhaustion the day before, and had cried grieving, disjointed words to accompany her tears even in sleep – he gently took the edge of the comforter in his hands and covered her again. He sat down on her bed and looked down at her pale face. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Her face remained unchanged. “Are you thirsty? I can make you something other than tea.” Maria’s jaw clenched. This was so not going well.
Michael reached out to her, trying to call her back from wherever her thoughts were taking her. “Maria,” he whispered. His fingertips ran through her dull and unwashed hair, along her hairline towards the back of her neck with tender warmth. For the first time since he’d approached her, Maria turned her green eyes to meet Michael’s. But when they did, she couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears stung and burned their way out of her eyes and fell hotly down her cheeks faster than Michael could even try to catch them. Maria’s hands reached out for him and pulled him to her until he was lying next to her on top of the comforter. “It’s okay,” he tried to soothe her hiccupping moans. “It’s okay.”
Upon hearing Maria’s crying, Amy had left the kitchen where she’d been nursing her own cup of tea and walked down the hall to Maria’s room. When she saw Michael and Maria there together, her heart swelled at once with both unfettered agony for her child, and an overwhelming gratitude that she had found someone who was there for her. Michael hadn’t left the house since they’d learned about Liz; in fact, the only time he’d been away from Maria had been to move his motorcycle from the student lot to the faculty lot, with Principal Forrester’s permission to keep it there until he could come collect it. When that was done, it had been Michael who’d followed Amy and Maria home, driving the Jetta. He had stayed last night on the couch in the living room, closing his eyes only after he’d spent the day looking after Amy and Maria’s needs. Amy couldn’t remember when she’d felt her load lightened in even the smallest way, but she felt like that with Michael there.
Still, though, she’d have to remember to remind him not to get any ideas about staying in Maria’s bed on any kind of permanent basis.
~*~*~
Kyle woke up from his the uncomfortable couch in the living room, where he’d been delegated ever since Tess had come to stay with them. He was still half asleep, was just about to roll off the couch and start his morning routine of 100 push-ups, when suddenly remembered that Liz Parker was dead. And then the last thing he felt like doing was push-ups.
Liz Parker. His first real girlfriend … at least, that was the way he thought about her. She was the first girl he’d ever had to exert himself for, the first girl he’d ever exerted himself for. He’d accepted the fact that they weren’t meant to be together a long time ago, but he still cared about her so much. After going through hell for her sophomore year, watching her with Evans, he knew he was losing probably the best girl he’d ever know. Last October, when they were in bed together waiting for Max to show up, he felt like he was back in freshman year again, trying so hard to impress her, to make her smile. Seeing her smile always made him feel like smiling. No, he didn’t love her, but he’d still never believe that there was anyone else in the world quite like Liz Parker.
And now, she was dead.
Jim came in from the kitchen and saw Kyle looking miserable on the sofa. He came and stood over the sofa, wishing he could do anything to keep his son from such awful pain. In unspoken acknowledgement, Kyle put his feet down on the floor and sat up on the sofa, leaving a place for his father to sit down next to him. Jim took the seat. After a few minutes of silence, Kyle spoke first. “Hey.”
“Hey, son.” Jim tried to think of something wise, something comforting to say … but he couldn’t think of anything. He was coming up short. “What do you want to do today?” he finally asked, unable to think of anything else.
“I might go to school,” Kyle frowned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “I just don’t want to sit around and do nothing all day.”
Jim nodded. “I understand that.”
“You do?” Kyle looked up at him. “You don’t think it makes me … I mean, she …”
Jim put an end to his son’s guilt. “I think that you should do whatever you have to do to make it through today. I think that, if you called Maria or Alex or Max or Isabel, that’s what they’re doing today, too. If that means you want to go to school, then I think you should go.”
The door to Kyle’s old bedroom opened, and Tess walked out, fully dressed in a denim skirt and a dark purple top. “Um …,” she began uncertainly, “Jim, can I go for a drive? I just need to get out of the house.” She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered.
Jim looked at Kyle, who looked at Jim. He turned back to Tess and said, “Go ahead and take Kyle’s car.” He looked back at his son. “I’ll give you a ride. You can just call me whenever you want to leave.”
“Okay,” Kyle agreed.
Tess looked over at Kyle. “Kyle, are you sure it’s okay for me to take your car?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he waved it off.
“Okay,” Tess said softly. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” With that, she took the keys from the table near the front door, and headed out.
~*~*~
Over forty-five minutes later, Tess pulled up to a dirty one-storey rat hotel called the Roadrunner Inn, in the outskirts of Hondo. Bypassing the front office, she drove along the side of the hotel to room 11. She parked the car, got out, closed the door, walked up to the hotel room door and walked in without missing a beat. She slammed it with great force behind her.
Nicholas was huddled over something on the floor when he heard the front door close. He looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Well aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“Fuck you.”
“Please? I’m so bored with this.”
“I don’t see why you can’t just kill her.”
Nicholas sighed impatiently. “For the last time, your highness,” he sneered, “she has the fucking seal. And the bonding … it’s awakened everything, changed everything. I could have killed her a few months ago, but now if I try, it’ll only bring out her fighting instinct.”
“Liz Parker has a fighting instinct?”
Nicholas stood up, revealing the crumpled, broken body of Liz on the floor of the hotel. “The more I attack her, the stronger she’ll get. She’ll start discovering and developing powers sooner if I just attack her outright.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Logic never was your strong suit,” he snidely commented. “The seal and the cementing, it was designed to protect the royal family. It’s an Antarian custom that you can’t assume the throne until you’ve bonded with another Antarian. Most just bond, and that’s it. It’s mostly cultural – you find someone that you think you can stand to be around for the rest of your life. It’s observed a lot like marriage is on this miserable planet; you generally stay with the person you’re bonded with, but only the bonding holds you them. You live out your normal life.
“The cementing only happens once in a while – among royals, maybe once or twice in a century. It’s stronger than just a bond, it ties you to the other person for life. It ties your whole life. Cementers share a single consciousness. It’s like one person in two bodies. If one partner dies, they sometimes find other partners, but they never bond again. When a royal cements, they share all the power of the seal; the ability to rule, the powers that come with it, and most importantly in this case, the protection and self-defense capabilities. If I try to physically harm her in any serious way, it sets off something in my system that causes pain.”
“What sort of pain?” Tess smiled wickedly.
“Terrible headaches, usually. Sometimes shooting pain in the chest, lungs, heart, …” Nicholas scowled. “It depends. It’s different here. On Antar, it would just cause our respiratory systems to shut down so we couldn’t breathe. Here, … you just never know. The worse your attack, the worse the pain is. When I went into Zan’s brain at the school in October, my head felt like it was being chewed on for as long as I was in there. Working with this one,” he jerked his head towards Liz’s unconscious body, “I’ve been getting some pain in my chest. It’s not bad, but I’ll be glad when I’m done with this bitch.”
“How much longer will it take?”
“A few more days.”
“Hurry it up, will you? I want her out of here. It makes me uncomfortable having her so close.”
“It’ll be done when it’s done.”
The two of them stood facing each other, battling wills, but after a few moments the tension faded and Tess gave a small chuckle. “You’re a humorless son of a bitch, you know that?”
“And you’re an unfeeling, selfish slut. I’ve got an idea of what you’re planning, and I don’t think you’ll get out of it what you’re hoping.”
“Leave it to me.” Tess turned around and grabbed her purse. “I have to get back before they start wondering where I am.”
“Drive safe,” Nicholas sniggered as she walked out the door. When he heard the car peel away, he turned back to his companion, still laying on the floor with her eyes closed. “Now, now, now … what am I going to do with you?”
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
Waking up is the hardest part.
~*~*~
TBC
My thanks to the following:
Spray
Katydid
TheTVgeneral
Alien_Friend
max and liz believer
Cassie
DMB
belleoftheball - don't you have a story to work on?
Kristy
Natalie36
Heavenli24
Augustus Snodgrass
dreamerfrvrp3
dreamers_fan_believe
uw51
TheShortAiel
pinkslipper
Cocogurl
Frenchdreamer
Behrluv32
Natz
raemac
LizNdAlec4eva
Some situations - but no direct lines of dialogue (I think) - were taken from 'Cry Your Name'.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-one – Broken Hearts Club
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part.
You roll out of bed and down on your knees,
And for a moment you can hardly breathe,
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No, she's not,
‘Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The giving up is the hardest part.
She takes you in with her crying eyes,
Then all at once you have to say goodbye,
Wondering could you stay, my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No, she can't,
‘Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hands?
Would you get them if I did?
No, you won't,
Cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part.
- Dreaming With A Broken Heart
John Mayer
Local Teen Killed, No Leads
Elizabeth Claudia Parker, 17, was struck by a hit-and-run driver Tuesday morning while crossing the street outside her parent’s residence above the Crashdown Café to catch the bus to school.
Parker, a top student at West Roswell High School, was killed instantly.
“Liz Parker’s death is a tragedy for all of us,” said Principal Forrester in a brief press conference held by the Sheriff’s Department and the School Board Tuesday. “She will be greatly missed.”
Sheriff Valenti said that the car which killed Parker was described as a black four-door compact car with out-of-state plates. A search is ongoing in New Mexico and western Texas counties to find the car.
But as of yet there are no leads in the case.
The Sheriff commented further that he’d been in contact with Parker’s family, who wanted to thank the school and the community for their support, but that they’ve asked that the people who put up the make-shift memorial at the site of the accident please take it down again.
“That’s the spot where our daughter died,” the family wrote in a comment which was read by Valenti. “We have to look at that corner for the rest of our lives. Please respect our wishes in this.”
In lieu of flowers at the site or sent to their home, they requested that donations be made to the Chaves County Police Department.
Students at West Roswell were shocked and grieved at the loss of their classmate.
“She was really sweet and nice,” said Pamela Troy, 17, a classmate. “She was smart and never said anything mean to anyone. We’re all really going to miss her.”
West Roswell has scheduled a memorial service for Parker on Friday night at the school’s gymnasium. The wake will be Saturday evening at Montessori Funeral Home. The funeral will be Sunday afternoon at Our Lady of Guadeloupe Catholic Church, with internment following at Frazier Cemetery.
Parker is survived by her parents, Jeffrey and Nancy of Roswell, and an aunt of Miami, Florida.
Elizabeth Claudia Parker, 17, was struck by a hit-and-run driver Tuesday morning while crossing the street outside her parent’s residence above the Crashdown Café to catch the bus to school.
Parker, a top student at West Roswell High School, was killed instantly.
“Liz Parker’s death is a tragedy for all of us,” said Principal Forrester in a brief press conference held by the Sheriff’s Department and the School Board Tuesday. “She will be greatly missed.”
Sheriff Valenti said that the car which killed Parker was described as a black four-door compact car with out-of-state plates. A search is ongoing in New Mexico and western Texas counties to find the car.
But as of yet there are no leads in the case.
The Sheriff commented further that he’d been in contact with Parker’s family, who wanted to thank the school and the community for their support, but that they’ve asked that the people who put up the make-shift memorial at the site of the accident please take it down again.
“That’s the spot where our daughter died,” the family wrote in a comment which was read by Valenti. “We have to look at that corner for the rest of our lives. Please respect our wishes in this.”
In lieu of flowers at the site or sent to their home, they requested that donations be made to the Chaves County Police Department.
Students at West Roswell were shocked and grieved at the loss of their classmate.
“She was really sweet and nice,” said Pamela Troy, 17, a classmate. “She was smart and never said anything mean to anyone. We’re all really going to miss her.”
West Roswell has scheduled a memorial service for Parker on Friday night at the school’s gymnasium. The wake will be Saturday evening at Montessori Funeral Home. The funeral will be Sunday afternoon at Our Lady of Guadeloupe Catholic Church, with internment following at Frazier Cemetery.
Parker is survived by her parents, Jeffrey and Nancy of Roswell, and an aunt of Miami, Florida.
Diane Evans jumped up from the table, panicked as she heard footsteps heading towards the kitchen. The last thing she wanted her children to see was the front-page story in the newspaper about Liz Parker’s death. The article enraged her on several levels, especially the comment by Pam Troy. From what she’d understood, Pam and Liz were about as friendly as a couple of great white sharks. And Diane was willing to bet money that Pam had been more than eager to deceive the interviewers about her “friendship” with Liz at the chance of getting her name in the paper.
Desperate, Diane jerked open the oven door and tossed the folded-up paper inside. She closed the oven again just as she was joined in the kitchen by her husband. “Oh, thank God,” she said. “I thought you were one of the kids.”
Philip shook his head sadly. He walked over to his wife and gave her a hug. “Are they up yet?”
Diane shook her head against Philip’s shoulder without letting go. “I told them they didn’t have to go to school today if they didn’t want to.”
Philip nodded, agreeing. He released his wife and gave her a quick peck on the forehead while saying a silent prayer for the safety of his own family. His mother was fond of quoting, “there but for the grace of God go I.” The saying rarely hit home the way it did today.
Diane watched as Philip put a piece of toast into the toaster and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked around the kitchen somewhat absently. “Have you seen the paper?” It was then that Diane remembered her folly. A little bashful, she retrieved it from its hiding place. Philip gave her a quizzical look as she handed it to him. His eyes followed hers to the paper; he opened it up and immediately saw the story. Now he understood. He handed it back to her. “I’ll read it at the office.” She gave him a small smile and put the paper back in the oven.
Philip took his coffee to the table and sat down at the head, next to where Diane’s coffee cup sat. “Have you checked on Max?”
Diane nodded sadly. “I looked in on him this morning. He was asleep.” At least he stopped crying, they both thought. Max hadn’t stopped crying since he’d heard the news. He’d fallen to the floor in the principal’s office, as had Maria. He’d sobbed so heart-wrenchingly that it brought tears to his parents’ eyes. He’d been violent for the first time, throwing punches at his father, screaming that their joke wasn’t funny. It had taken over an hour before his parents were able to calm him down enough to take him to the car and drive him home. Diane had taken him home in her car, while Philip had driven Isabel in the Jeep. The other parents had gotten their kids out of there sooner, wanting to get them home as quickly as possible. But Max had been impossible to move.
As she’d driven, Diane had kept an eye on her baby. His sobs subsided somewhat, but the tears continued to stream down his cheeks. She wondered how he’d had any tears left. When they’d arrived home Max went straight to his room and closed the door. Sometimes he’d cried out in horrible, unrelenting howls of pain that echoed through the house and shook the walls. Other times, he relapsed into utter silence. It was hard to say which one was worse for his parents to endure. But not once had he come out of his room.
Philip’s toast popped out of the toaster, and he stood to get it. Diane stopped him with her hand. “I’ll get it,” she said. She put it on a plate and brought it to him, then fetched the apple butter that Philip loved and put it next to him with a butter knife. She stood watching as he applied it to the toast. She took a deep breath. “Philip, I’m going to need the checkbook today.”
“What for?” he asked with muted curiosity. Everything was muted today.
“I want to give the Parkers some money.”
Philip heard his wife’s tone and looked up at her. She wore an expression on her face that he hadn’t seen in over twelve years; not since they’d come home from dropping off two shivering, unclothed children at the Roswell Orphanage. Diane had walked in, sat down on the couch in the living room, looked at her husband as he’d locked the front door, and told him that one day soon they were going to go back to that orphanage and bring their children back home. There had been something in her voice, a determination mixed with absolute certainty, and her bright blue eyes had shone with a passion and fire that she rarely displayed. That same voice was back, with the fire in her eyes to match. In the normal day-to-day routine of their marriage, Philip made most of the decisions, and Diane was more disposed to live quietly and peacefully. But when she made a decision, that decision was treated as holier than law. One look at his wife and Philip knew now, as he’d known then, that there would be no argument, no excuses, no giving up until things came to pass exactly as Diane stated.
“How much were you thinking of giving them?”
Diane sat down at the table with him. “I was thinking of about seven thousand.”
Philip looked down at his toast. For a funeral, seven thousand could be rather modest. “You think that’s enough?” he frowned and looked back at her.
“I don’t know. I … I thought I’d ask Gloria what she thinks. She’s known them longer, and …” she trailed off, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Philip reached out and pulled her chair closer to his, grunting with the effort. That had definitely been easier to do 20 years ago. But once she was close enough, he reached out and put his arms around her again. Eagerly she fell into his embrace, leaning against his suit-covered chest while warming her hands on her coffee cup. “I’ll leave it on the dresser,” he told her gently as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. Together they contemplated the tragedy that had struck their children’s lives. Both would have given anything in their power to spare their children even a moment of the pain that they knew awaited them over the coming days.
~*~*~
A soft voice pulled Max from the dark recesses of his dreamless, morose sleep. His eyes were sore and dry, but the vision he beheld when they opened made him forget his discomfort at once. “Liz,” he breathed.
There she was, smiling at him. Immediately he bolted upright in his bed and opened his arms to her. She didn’t hesitate to fall into them. “Liz, Liz, Liz,” he murmured as he rained kisses upon her face, lips and neck. “They said you were…”
“Shh,” she comforted him. “It was just a mistake. It was all a mistake. I’m all right.” She kissed his lips. “I’m all right.”
“God, Liz, oh God,” Max tightened his grip on her and felt life returning to his veins with every one of her kisses. “I thought you died. I thought I died.”
“No,” Liz softly reassured him. “No, no, no, no, no. I’m fine, love. But Max … Max, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” he whispered as he ran his lips over every available millimeter of her skin.
“Open your eyes,” she commanded gently.
A dread fell over Max. No. His eyes were open, damn it. And he wasn’t going to change a damn thing about this moment. “No.”
“Max, open your eyes.”
“No!” he cried. He tried to crush her to him, but instead she floated away, out of his arms … away, away, away.
“Open your eyes, Max. Max, you have to open your eyes.” Her sweet voice shifted into broken tones that sounded like his sister, as her beautiful form faded into black.
“Open your eyes. Wake up, Max.” Max obeyed. The air stabbed at his dry eyes. Isabel was kneeling by his bed, one hand on the edge of the mattress. “I heard you crying,” she said. Max couldn’t say anything. The sight of his sister wasn’t half as welcome as the dream he’d just had. “I wasn’t trying to,” Isabel hurriedly explained, taking his silence as a sign of offense. “I just sort of … heard you. You weren’t loud or anything, but somehow I just heard you.”
Max closed his eyes again and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. He didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to change his clothes or brush his teeth or face the world. He wanted Liz back. He wanted her back so badly, his heart was screaming it. But he knew that, if he got up, she wouldn’t be coming back. Staying right where he was was the only option.
Isabel wasn’t sure of what else to say. She sat backwards on her heels with her knees in front of her as she traced the shadows of the shaggy carpet on Max’s floor. “Mom was thinking about going to Alex’s today. Maybe to see the Parkers, if they’re up for it.” She looked up to see how he’d taken her news, but Max remained unmoved. Isabel took a deep breath. “Do you want to come?” She waited for a response, a reaction … anything, but Max still gave no indication that he’d even heard her.
“Max,” she begged, “please … please just say something, anything. Please!” Max stayed perfectly still, his comforter pulled up to his chin. Soft tears began to spill from behind his closed lids.
Isabel recognized that her brother would not be joining them this morning. She stood up. “I’ll come in and see you before we go.”
When she closed the door behind her, Max retreated back into his dream, where Liz surrounded him with her redolent skin, sweet laugh and delicious kisses. He had to fight against the urge to call out to her with his soul, as he’d gotten used to over the past weeks and had done so many times since his worst nightmares had been realized in Principal Forrester’s office. He knew she wouldn’t be there.
~*~*~
Nancy Parker opened her red-rimmed eyes. She was lying on her stomach, her head turned towards her husband, one hand resting on her pillow near her face. She looked into the eyes of her husband, who seemed to have the troubles of all the world on his shoulders as he lay next to her. His jaw was trembling as he gently took her hand. In a voice that sounded very much like her daughter’s, she trembled, “I … I’m not dreaming, am I?” she asked. The answer appeared in the sorrow of his eyes before he slowly shook his head. Nancy closed her eyes again and wished the world away as her tears began to fall.
~*~*~
Gloria Whitman reached the front door even as the chimes from the bell still echoed through her house. Diane Evans was standing there with a sympathetic and grieved look on her face. Isabel stood behind her on one side, eyes downcast. Gloria’s first thought was that she looked a little pale.
“Hi, Gloria,” Diane said.
“Hi … Diane.” She opened the door wider and stood back. “Come-come in.” Diane and Isabel slowly entered. “Good morning, Isabel.”
Isabel wished she could return the sentiment, but there had been nothing good about this morning so far. “Hello, Mrs. Whitman.” Did her voice really sound so broken? “Is, um, is Alex here?”
Gloria nodded. “He’s out in the, uh, back yard, I think. Go on out there. He’ll be glad to see you.” Isabel nodded and got out of the room as quickly as she could without seeming rude.
“I just made some coffee,” was the most of an invitation Gloria could muster. Diane nodded and followed her into the kitchen, understanding that conversation today would be a strain for both of them. Words were trivial in the face of such grief, and everything was filled with heavy solemnity. Still, somehow both women found comfort in the other’s presence, sensing that only the other could understand the anguish each of them felt at seeing their children so broken hearted, and completely powerless to spare them this pain.
“Charles isn’t here?” Diane asked.
Gloria shook her head as she poured coffee into two mugs. “He, um, … he had to go to work today. I think he’ll try to come home early. I took off today and tomorrow.”
Both women sat down at the kitchen table and sipped their coffee for a few minutes in silence. Finally, Diane spoke. “Gloria, I … I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” Gloria raised her eyes, and Diane continued with a deep breath. “I wanted to give the Parkers some money to help with the funeral, but … I don’t know if they’d feel entirely comfortable … taking it from me. I was wondering if I couldn’t write it out to you, and then ask you to give it to them.” She sighed and looked into her coffee cup. “I can’t imagine what they must be going through right now. The last thing they should have to be worried about is money.”
“And you think it’d be better coming from Charles and me.”
Diane nodded. “You’ve known them better, longer, than Philip and I. You don’t have to tell them where the money’s coming from – in fact, I’d prefer it of you didn’t – but I … this is such a nightmare, and I can’t stand the thought of Liz’s parents having to think about what they can afford at a time like this.”
“I know what you mean. Charles and I … we were actually thinking of giving them something as well. We can’t afford much, maybe only two or three thousand, but still …”
Diane sighed with relief and gratitude. “Then you’ll do it?”
“If you let us contribute, too.”
Diane reached out across the table, and Gloria took her hand. The two of them sat together in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
~*~*~
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Alex admitted quietly. They were the first words he’d spoken since Isabel had first joined him, sitting on the stairs of the back porch that led into the Whitman’s yard. He had turned to her when she’d arrived and graced her with a nod, since he found himself unable to smile. Then he’d faced the yard again, surveying the remnants of his childhood that still remained. There was a bright blue bike in one corner, far too small for Alex now, but would have been just his size when he was eleven. Near it sat two helmets, one a dark red and the other pink and green. Alex knew the third helmet, a black and blue one, was in a box in his parent’s garage. Maria and Liz had never collected theirs in the years since the bike had outlived its usefulness. There was also a plastic table and chairs that had seen many summertime lunches and snacks since its acquisition when he was thirteen. Another corner of the yard, under a tree and near the border of bushes that shielded the thick concrete wall which separated their yard from the neighbors, there were three spots where the grass was thinned and brown, each large enough to fit the rump of a human, if all of them touched knees. As he stared at those three spots, Alex could almost see himself and his two best friends, sitting there, talking about everything from music and sports to work and school to kissing and, well, other things. More recently, glowing hands and alien hunters had been added to the list of subjects. Alex called it their little Circle of Truth. Nothing was off-limits. And now, one of its members would be forever absent, never to come again. It wasn’t a circle anymore. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
Isabel put her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she softly told him. “I’m just so sorry.”
He turned and looked at her. Even though there were other things to think about, he couldn’t help but notice that Isabel Evans looked even more beautiful when her face was stripped bare, wearing her emotions for him to see, than she was when she wore even the most flattering of make-up. And he saw that, despite the way he knew she’d sometimes treated Liz in the past, Isabel was experiencing the loss of one of the few people she called her friends. He slipped one hand over hers. “How’s Max?” he asked.
Isabel shook her head. “He’s awful,” she said as her eyes filled with tears. “He won’t get out of bed. He won’t … talk or eat or … or do anything. I’ve never seen him … never seen anyone like that.”
Alex took her hand from his knee and wrapped her long, graceful fingers in his own. “How are you?”
That caused her dams to break as her chest became so heavy, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, Alex … I … I know I wasn’t always nice to her, but I didn’t mean it. I never wanted this to happen.”
“Nobody thinks you did,” he assured her.
Isabel continued sobbing. “My mom … wants us to try to go to school tomorrow. But he …” she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Her sobs suddenly hit her, hard and violent, making her entire body shake. Alex wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and it was her final undoing. She crushed herself to him. Fingers curled into his T-shirt, buried her head in his chest. She wanted warmth; she wanted peace; she wanted the strength she so desperately needed. But she was spent. She wanted to be there for her brother and her friends, but her own soul was starved and empty and needed to be replenished.
Isabel leaned her forehead against Alex and searched for his heartbeat through his shirt. When she found it, she held him tighter, wanting to crawl inside of him to a place where she wouldn’t have to always be so strong, wouldn’t have to feel so guilty. Because she did feel guilty. She felt guilty for treating Liz so harshly so many times. She felt guilty for always being so hard on everyone else, when they, too, could be whisked out of her life as swiftly as Liz had been. And she felt guilty that her brother, her blood, couldn’t take from her what he needed to get through. He was suffering, probably more so than anyone, and she couldn’t even ease his pain by the most miniscule amount.
And Alex took all of this from her, took all of her burden onto his shoulders, felt her sobs choking him like unseen fingers around his throat. Liz’s death caused him as much pain as if a limb had been cut off. The grief, the agony, it threatened to swallow him whole; but with Isabel holding him like this, he knew at least that he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t lose it right now. Right now, he could be here for her. There would be time for him later. And when that time came, he knew she would be there then, too, and would catch him the way he was catching her now.
~*~*~
It took Maria several tries before her eyes would open properly. For some reason they were heavier today than most days. They felt sore, too. Why were they sore? Had she been more tired than she realized? Did she have a sty, maybe?
The sun was shining brightly into her room. Wait a minute, that wasn’t supposed to happen. The sun didn’t come into her room until late in the morning. Today was a Wednesday. She was supposed to be at school. Wasn’t she supposed to be at school? Why wasn’t she at school?
And then she remembered.
Liz was dead.
That was why she wasn’t at school. That was why her eyes were sore and heavy.
Liz was dead.
A soft knock drifted in through her bedroom door. Was it her mom? No, her mom would have just come right in without knocking. Well, she would have done that any other day. But today wasn’t any other day. Today, Liz was dead. Her mom would knock if Liz was dead.
Maria’s brain was so fried, she forgot to tell the knocker to come in. But he did anyway.
“Hey,” Michael’s voice called to her through the now open doorway. She couldn’t remember his voice ever sounding like that.
That was because Liz was dead.
“I brought you some tea,” he said.
Tea? What was tea? What did she care for tea when Liz was dead?
Michael walked over to her bed and gingerly put the cup down over the folded napkin he’d carried in his other hand. When he looked at Maria, he saw her staring at the cup with a frown. He noticed that she’d kicked off her comforter, which lay pooled at her feet, half hanging off the bed. Sensing that Maria wasn’t going to get up anytime soon – she’d cried herself into exhaustion the day before, and had cried grieving, disjointed words to accompany her tears even in sleep – he gently took the edge of the comforter in his hands and covered her again. He sat down on her bed and looked down at her pale face. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Her face remained unchanged. “Are you thirsty? I can make you something other than tea.” Maria’s jaw clenched. This was so not going well.
Michael reached out to her, trying to call her back from wherever her thoughts were taking her. “Maria,” he whispered. His fingertips ran through her dull and unwashed hair, along her hairline towards the back of her neck with tender warmth. For the first time since he’d approached her, Maria turned her green eyes to meet Michael’s. But when they did, she couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears stung and burned their way out of her eyes and fell hotly down her cheeks faster than Michael could even try to catch them. Maria’s hands reached out for him and pulled him to her until he was lying next to her on top of the comforter. “It’s okay,” he tried to soothe her hiccupping moans. “It’s okay.”
Upon hearing Maria’s crying, Amy had left the kitchen where she’d been nursing her own cup of tea and walked down the hall to Maria’s room. When she saw Michael and Maria there together, her heart swelled at once with both unfettered agony for her child, and an overwhelming gratitude that she had found someone who was there for her. Michael hadn’t left the house since they’d learned about Liz; in fact, the only time he’d been away from Maria had been to move his motorcycle from the student lot to the faculty lot, with Principal Forrester’s permission to keep it there until he could come collect it. When that was done, it had been Michael who’d followed Amy and Maria home, driving the Jetta. He had stayed last night on the couch in the living room, closing his eyes only after he’d spent the day looking after Amy and Maria’s needs. Amy couldn’t remember when she’d felt her load lightened in even the smallest way, but she felt like that with Michael there.
Still, though, she’d have to remember to remind him not to get any ideas about staying in Maria’s bed on any kind of permanent basis.
~*~*~
Kyle woke up from his the uncomfortable couch in the living room, where he’d been delegated ever since Tess had come to stay with them. He was still half asleep, was just about to roll off the couch and start his morning routine of 100 push-ups, when suddenly remembered that Liz Parker was dead. And then the last thing he felt like doing was push-ups.
Liz Parker. His first real girlfriend … at least, that was the way he thought about her. She was the first girl he’d ever had to exert himself for, the first girl he’d ever exerted himself for. He’d accepted the fact that they weren’t meant to be together a long time ago, but he still cared about her so much. After going through hell for her sophomore year, watching her with Evans, he knew he was losing probably the best girl he’d ever know. Last October, when they were in bed together waiting for Max to show up, he felt like he was back in freshman year again, trying so hard to impress her, to make her smile. Seeing her smile always made him feel like smiling. No, he didn’t love her, but he’d still never believe that there was anyone else in the world quite like Liz Parker.
And now, she was dead.
Jim came in from the kitchen and saw Kyle looking miserable on the sofa. He came and stood over the sofa, wishing he could do anything to keep his son from such awful pain. In unspoken acknowledgement, Kyle put his feet down on the floor and sat up on the sofa, leaving a place for his father to sit down next to him. Jim took the seat. After a few minutes of silence, Kyle spoke first. “Hey.”
“Hey, son.” Jim tried to think of something wise, something comforting to say … but he couldn’t think of anything. He was coming up short. “What do you want to do today?” he finally asked, unable to think of anything else.
“I might go to school,” Kyle frowned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “I just don’t want to sit around and do nothing all day.”
Jim nodded. “I understand that.”
“You do?” Kyle looked up at him. “You don’t think it makes me … I mean, she …”
Jim put an end to his son’s guilt. “I think that you should do whatever you have to do to make it through today. I think that, if you called Maria or Alex or Max or Isabel, that’s what they’re doing today, too. If that means you want to go to school, then I think you should go.”
The door to Kyle’s old bedroom opened, and Tess walked out, fully dressed in a denim skirt and a dark purple top. “Um …,” she began uncertainly, “Jim, can I go for a drive? I just need to get out of the house.” She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered.
Jim looked at Kyle, who looked at Jim. He turned back to Tess and said, “Go ahead and take Kyle’s car.” He looked back at his son. “I’ll give you a ride. You can just call me whenever you want to leave.”
“Okay,” Kyle agreed.
Tess looked over at Kyle. “Kyle, are you sure it’s okay for me to take your car?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he waved it off.
“Okay,” Tess said softly. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” With that, she took the keys from the table near the front door, and headed out.
~*~*~
Over forty-five minutes later, Tess pulled up to a dirty one-storey rat hotel called the Roadrunner Inn, in the outskirts of Hondo. Bypassing the front office, she drove along the side of the hotel to room 11. She parked the car, got out, closed the door, walked up to the hotel room door and walked in without missing a beat. She slammed it with great force behind her.
Nicholas was huddled over something on the floor when he heard the front door close. He looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Well aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“Fuck you.”
“Please? I’m so bored with this.”
“I don’t see why you can’t just kill her.”
Nicholas sighed impatiently. “For the last time, your highness,” he sneered, “she has the fucking seal. And the bonding … it’s awakened everything, changed everything. I could have killed her a few months ago, but now if I try, it’ll only bring out her fighting instinct.”
“Liz Parker has a fighting instinct?”
Nicholas stood up, revealing the crumpled, broken body of Liz on the floor of the hotel. “The more I attack her, the stronger she’ll get. She’ll start discovering and developing powers sooner if I just attack her outright.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Logic never was your strong suit,” he snidely commented. “The seal and the cementing, it was designed to protect the royal family. It’s an Antarian custom that you can’t assume the throne until you’ve bonded with another Antarian. Most just bond, and that’s it. It’s mostly cultural – you find someone that you think you can stand to be around for the rest of your life. It’s observed a lot like marriage is on this miserable planet; you generally stay with the person you’re bonded with, but only the bonding holds you them. You live out your normal life.
“The cementing only happens once in a while – among royals, maybe once or twice in a century. It’s stronger than just a bond, it ties you to the other person for life. It ties your whole life. Cementers share a single consciousness. It’s like one person in two bodies. If one partner dies, they sometimes find other partners, but they never bond again. When a royal cements, they share all the power of the seal; the ability to rule, the powers that come with it, and most importantly in this case, the protection and self-defense capabilities. If I try to physically harm her in any serious way, it sets off something in my system that causes pain.”
“What sort of pain?” Tess smiled wickedly.
“Terrible headaches, usually. Sometimes shooting pain in the chest, lungs, heart, …” Nicholas scowled. “It depends. It’s different here. On Antar, it would just cause our respiratory systems to shut down so we couldn’t breathe. Here, … you just never know. The worse your attack, the worse the pain is. When I went into Zan’s brain at the school in October, my head felt like it was being chewed on for as long as I was in there. Working with this one,” he jerked his head towards Liz’s unconscious body, “I’ve been getting some pain in my chest. It’s not bad, but I’ll be glad when I’m done with this bitch.”
“How much longer will it take?”
“A few more days.”
“Hurry it up, will you? I want her out of here. It makes me uncomfortable having her so close.”
“It’ll be done when it’s done.”
The two of them stood facing each other, battling wills, but after a few moments the tension faded and Tess gave a small chuckle. “You’re a humorless son of a bitch, you know that?”
“And you’re an unfeeling, selfish slut. I’ve got an idea of what you’re planning, and I don’t think you’ll get out of it what you’re hoping.”
“Leave it to me.” Tess turned around and grabbed her purse. “I have to get back before they start wondering where I am.”
“Drive safe,” Nicholas sniggered as she walked out the door. When he heard the car peel away, he turned back to his companion, still laying on the floor with her eyes closed. “Now, now, now … what am I going to do with you?”
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
Waking up is the hardest part.
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Wed Jan 23, 2008 11:51 pm, edited 6 times in total.
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LairaBehr4
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Thank you, everyone, for ... well, everything. Hope you all enjoy!
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-two – Here With Me
I didn't hear you leave,
I wonder how am I still here.
And I don't want to move a thing,
It might change my memory.
Oh I am what I am, I do what I want,
But I can't hide,
And I won't go, I won't sleep,
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me.
And I won't leave, I can't hide,
I cannot be until you're resting here with me.
I don't want to call my friends,
For they might wake me from this dream.
And I can't leave this bed,
Risk forgetting all that's been.
Oh I am what I am, I do what I want,
But I can't hide,
And I won't go, I won't sleep,
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me.
I won't leave, I can't hide,
I cannot be until you're resting here.
I won't go, and I won't sleep,
And I can't breathe until you're resting here with me.
And I won't leave, I can't hide,
I cannot be until you're resting here with me.
-‘Here With Me’
Dido
“Can I help you?” a pretty blond woman in her mid-thirties asked after opening the door. Her eyes were red, and her posture was fatigued.
“Hi,” Diane said. “I’m Diane Evans, and this is my daughter, Isabel. We were here to see Jeff and Nancy.”
“Oh,” the woman looked down, then back up again. “My sister and her husband aren’t …” she shook her head. There weren’t words to adequately express what Nancy and Jeff were going through right now. “They’re not up for company right now.”
“I understand.” Diane held out the flowers she had bought – purple lilies and forget-me-nots, sprinkled with baby’s breath. “Can you please take these for them? From my family.”
“Thank you,” the woman took the flowers from her, then bit her lip as she looked at them as if debating something. Deciding, she looked at them again. “You’re welcome to come inside with me while I put these in some water.”
“Thank you,” Diane said as she stepped in, Isabel following. “You said you’re Nancy’s sister?”
“Yes, I’m Jenny Blaire. I live in Florida. I flew in last night.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. Liz spent some time with you last summer, I rememb—” Diane suddenly stopped, remembering the reason why they were there in the first place.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Jenny tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “I just can’t believe it,” she whispered, rubbing her hands over her eyes.
“I know. None of us can.”
They stood in silence together for a few moments, before Jenny motioned to the flowers. “I’m just going to, um, …” she pointed to the kitchen. “Please make yourselves at home.”
“Uh, Mrs. Blaire?” Isabel said.
“Please. I’m not married. Just call me Jenny.”
“Jenny, um, c-can I please go to Liz’s room?”
Jenny looked embarrassed. “I, I don’t know how Nancy and Jeff would feel about that. No one’s been in there yet.”
“It’s okay,” Isabel hurriedly said. “I didn’t mean to …”
Jenny took in a deep breath as she looked over Isabel. “You know what?” she said kindly. “Go ahead. It’ll be okay.”
Isabel nodded silently and walked down the hall.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” Jenny asked Diane.
“No, that’s okay. We won’t stay long, we don’t want to be a nuisance to anyone. I can’t imagine how this must be for Jeff and Nancy.” Jenny didn’t answer. An answer wasn’t needed.
~*~*~
Isabel looked around Liz’s room. She’d only been in here two or three times before, usually when there was some sort of Czech-related crisis going on. But she’d never really bothered to look around or pay attention to what was really there. Books scattered around here and there, candles and candle holders that were clearly used and loved, … a small dragon in the corner of the window seat. And pictures everywhere; of her family, of her friends. Isabel was even surprised to see a picture of her in a small frame. Granted, it was a group photo, but still. Isabel wasn’t a fool. She knew that “friend” was a term that could be applied to her sparingly, especially with regards to Liz. And still, there she was in the photograph.
Suddenly, Isabel felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Instincts from deep within her, deeper than she’d ever experienced before, were screaming at her, telling her a message in ways she didn’t understand. All she knew was that there was something wrong in this room. Being in this room, about having Liz’s life and privacy laid out before her and open to her perusal and inspection, … something inside of her was crying out to her that it was wrong. It was wrong for her to be there now.
She wasn’t supposed to be there like this.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Isabel flew from the room, down the hall and past where her mom and Jenny were talking quietly in the living room. “Mom, I’ll wait for you in the car,” she rushed out as she ran down the stairs.
With her own key, Isabel let herself into her mother’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Her gut told her now that whatever trespass or wrong-doing she’d committed by being in Liz’s room had been rectified, but that didn’t mean the underlying problem was solved. She tried to calm her beating hard and slow her rapid breathing, but it wasn’t working. She felt that she’d stumbled onto something new, something different, something frightening. Something … alien.
What was wrong with her? Liz was dead. Liz didn’t care if she looked at her things or not.
Isabel looked out the window at the brick exterior over the Crashdown sign. She didn’t know what it was, but staying in Liz’s room hadn’t been an option. It wasn’t that she thought she was in danger, it was just … Isabel didn’t know what it was. How can one rationalize instincts?
Yet even as Isabel tried to do just that, she knew it wasn’t her instincts … at least, not her human ones. And she had the uneasy feeling that things would never be the same again.
~*~*~
Max absently rubbed his eyes as his body tugged him into consciousness. Even in this state, he knew that he was safe. And comfortable. And happier than he could ever remember.
And he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.
When he did, he was surrounded by Liz. They had shifted in their sleep so that Max was on his back, and Liz was partly on top of him, arms and legs wrapped around his body. But even that provided only a small warmth compared to the sunshine he felt as his soul basked in the warmth of hers.
Except … it didn’t.
His eyes flew open, this time without any gentle caressing of an internal clock. He was alone in his bed, no Liz in sight. This only increased his worry. He couldn’t feel her anywhere. It was as if something was standing between them, keeping him from reaching her. Why couldn’t he reach her? Why couldn’t he feel her?
Oh, yeah. She was dead.
As he leaned back against the bed, the tears found their way down his cheeks again. He had long since lost count of how many he’d cried since he’d found out. Half of his soul was gone … just gone. Everything felt muted to him, like a black and white movie in a world that used to be full of color. And the worst part was, he didn’t know how he’d ever get the color back again.
~*~*~
“How’d school go?” Jim Valenti asked as Kyle stumbled into the house.
“Sucked,” was his son’s succinct answer. He plopped himself onto the couch without meeting his father’s gaze. He lifted his feet onto the coffee table, then rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. It was a gesture that Jim recognized as one of his own. Patiently he waited, knowing that Kyle would speak again in a moment.
Sure enough, as soon as he lowered his fingers again, Kyle spoke. “They’re, uh … they’re talking about having a memorial after school tomorrow.”
Jim nodded his head. “Is that good?”
“I dunno,” Kyle said as his dad stood up from his seat at the kitchen table and sat down again beside him on the sofa. “I mean, the people who are organizing it are so … they didn’t even know her, or like her, or hang out with her. And now there are all these flowers and candles and shit outside of her locker. I spent all day wanting to murder somebody.” He let out an insincere chuckle. “Even sprained Moody’s arm during P.E..”
“Again?” Jim exclaimed, trying to smile. “You’re going to ruin that boy’s football chances.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to …” Kyle lamely defended.
Jim let their mutual, forced laughs titter away into the tense air of the living room before he spoke again. “Are you thinking of going?” Kyle looked at him. “To the memorial.”
Kyle looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. “Haven’t made up my mind. I mean, it’s like … if I go, it’s like saying that it’s okay that these hypocrites are setting up this thing. And if I don’t go, it’s like saying that I don’t miss her or care about her enough to show.
Jim took a deep breath. “Son, I don’t think there’s a right decision here. And I don’t think there’s a wrong one, either. I think that … what’s important right now is for you to do what you need to do. You have to take care of yourself right now. If you feel like you need to go, then you should go. If you feel like you need to not go, then don’t. I think that … Liz’ll know what’s in your heart, and whatever decision you make, she’ll understand.”
He tapped his son’s knee with his palm a few times before leaving him to his thoughts.
Kyle wasn’t alone for long before Tess stepped out of her room and into the living room. “How was school?” she asked.
“Sucked.”
~*~*~
The next morning saw all the gang together … minus one. Well, two, actually.
“I can’t believe this,” Maria shook her head as she looked over the makeshift memorial that had sprung up outside of Liz’s locker. Michael stood by her side, with Isabel and Alex next to him. Kyle stood on her other side, and Tess was next to him. “These people have some nerve.”
Isabel shook her head. “I’m just glad Max isn’t seeing this.”
“How’s he doing?” Kyle asked.
Isabel stared ahead, no longer seeing the flowers and pictures and candles before her. “Not so hot,” she answered after a long pause. No further elaboration was needed.
Finally Michael said, “You guys think that, if we all met up here after school, we can get this crap cleared away before Max shows up tomorrow?” They silently exchanged looks, and the deal was struck.
A large beep from the hallway speakers alerted the group and all the other students and teachers to an incoming announcement over the P.A. system. “Good morning, students and faculty,” greeted the deep voice of Principal Forrester. “The last several days since the loss of one of our students has been difficult for all of us. However, I’d like to take this opportunity to remind some of our students and faculty of the school’s policy with regards to the press. Please remember that the school is a community, and that we should present the outside world with a united front. With that in mind, I remind you all that no individual should speak with any reporters regarding the death of Elizabeth Parker and her family and friends. Please respect the privacy of those who have lost a loved one.”
Isabel looked down the hall and saw Pam Troy walking through the doorway with a frown, as if she knew the announcement was directed at her. Served her right, Isabel thought.
Principal Forrester continued, “Any and all contact with the press will be done exclusively through myself and the school’s legal representation. Any future instances of students or faculty members giving interviews will be investigated and dealt with according to the School Charter, which includes such possible punishments as suspension for students and suspension without pay for faculty. Thank you.”
The announcement ended, and the first bell of the morning rang, signaling to all of them that they needed to start heading to their first class of the day.
“Do you think Max will come to the service tonight?” Tess asked as they turned to walk down the hall.
“I don’t know,” Isabel shook her head as she fell into place next to Tess. “I just don’t know.”
~*~*~
“Honey?” Diane Evans poked her head into her son’s room. He was still lying in bed, the sheets pulled up to his shoulders. “Max, honey, please, you have to get up. You’ve been like this for three days.”
Max turned around in bed to look at her. His face was blank, but his mind had finally latched onto a thought apart from Liz. Had it really been three days?
“Sweetie, please, just go and take a shower. You’ll feel better, I promise.” She’d already placed a clean towel and jeans on his bed, and was now moving to rummage through his closet for a T-shirt and boxers. When she’d found the desired items, she placed them next to the jeans on the bed and looked down at her son. After a moment, she said, “Honey, Nancy’s sister called here a few minutes ago. There’s a memorial going on at the school tonight, and she and Jeff and Nancy are going to be there. I know they’d want to see you, Max. And you don’t want them to see you like this, do you?”
Max thought about it for a moment, and realized, his mom was right. He nodded his head.
Diane wanted to cry at the gesture. It was the most reaction anyone had gotten out of him in days. She walked over to the side of the bed and kissed his rough cheek. “I love you, sweetheart,” she whispered before heading out the door again.
Max didn’t know how long he’d waited after she left, but eventually he forced his protesting legs onto the floor as he sat up in bed. Pain shot through his back. Had it really been that long since he’d sat up?
Shrugging the fatigue from his limbs, he forced himself to stand. He grabbed the pile of items at the foot of the bed as he passed and made his way into his ensuite bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, Max had to admit that he did feel better. At least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell. It felt as if a part of him was just pretending to be okay, and another part was still lying heartbroken in bed.
No, that wasn’t it, either. The other part of him was with Liz, wherever she was.
Before he could stop the impulse, his soul reached out for her again. The crushing agony he felt when he reached only the thick wall from before was enough to make his knees buckle. Biting his lip with effort, he forced the pain down within him. His mom had been right, after all – Mr. and Mrs. Parker didn’t need to see him a wreck tonight.
He didn’t know where he got the strength to finish his shower, much less shave and dress, but he managed to accomplish these amazing feats. Eventually he exited the bathroom, feeling as if this masquerade of going through the motions was already getting just a little bit earlier.
All he had to do was forget about the part of him that felt as if his heart had been cut out.
~*~*~
Diane wanted to be overjoyed at the sight of her son walking into the kitchen, clothed with the exception of his bare feet. If it weren’t for the fact that he struck her as an empty shell of a person, she probably would have.
“Do you want something to eat, honey?” she asked. He shook his head ‘no’ as he sat at the kitchen table, arms folded on top. She shook her head and fetched a bowl from the cupboard. Then she poured in a ladle-full of the chicken noodle soup she was finishing, took a napkin and spoon from the drawer, and put it in front of him. He looked up at her with eyes that were seeking and questioning, yet empty at the same time. “Just try,” she pleaded before walking back to the stove.
Max dipped the spoon into the thick broth, lifted it, and slowly poured the contents back in a few times. Finally he managed to get two spoonfuls of the concoction through his lips. It felt like cotton in his mouth and weights in his stomach. His body fought between the urges to vomit the contents back up and grudgingly accept them as some much-needed nourishment. Eventually the latter won out, but still he couldn’t eat anymore.
After noticing that he’d been staring at the bowl without eating for several minutes, Diane took the bowl away again. “It’s okay, honey,” she said as she rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
Max wanted desperately to believe her, but he knew it wasn’t going to be okay ever again.
~*~*~
Max didn’t make it to the memorial service. He began shaking as he was walking to the car with his family and begged to stay behind. His mom agreed on the condition that he didn’t go back to bed. He agreed.
Philip, Diane and Isabel didn’t speak in the car. They didn’t speak as they parked in the high school parking lot. They didn’t say a word as they walked to the gym, which had a steady stream of people flowing in already. And they didn’t talk at all as they walked together as one unit through the doors, looked around the gym, and spotted Jeff Parker and Jenny Blair talking to Maria and Michael. Together they approached the trio, and only then did Diane break the silence.
“Jeff,” she said as she hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”
Jeff forced a small smile. “Thank you for coming,” he responded.
Diane hugged Jenny next as Philip gave Jeff his condolences. “Where’s Nancy?” she asked.
Jenny and Jeff shared a look. “She didn’t feel up to it,” Jenny eventually explained.
Diane nodded understandingly. “Neither could Max.” She looked at Jeff. “I’m so sorry, Jeff. He wanted to be here.”
“I know.” He really did.
Kyle, Tess and the Sheriff joined the group next, having just entered the gym. Somber greetings were exchanged. In an unspoken agreement, the kids moved off to the side and began talking amongst themselves.
“Max didn’t come?” Tess asked.
Isabel shook her head. “He’s still not doing well. He’s better, I just think that this was too much for him today. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“That’s good, ‘cause, uh, …” Kyle said, “Mr. Parker called me earlier today. He said he wants Max and Michael and Alex and I to be pallbearers. “
“Yeah, he called me, too,” Michael said. “José is going to be one, too.”
“Who’s the last one?” Isabel asked.
“I think they’re asking the priest who baptized her,” Maria informed her. “I guess he and Jeff went to high school together or something. He’s flying in tomorrow from Minneapolis.”
“Hey, guys,” Alex said from over Isabel’s shoulder. She and Michael turned around to see him. His arms were full of small white taper candles with paper holders. Taking the hint, Isabel took two of the candles from him and passed them to Tess and Kyle. Michael did the same, taking one for himself and one for Maria. Isabel snuck a glance over at the adults a few feet away. They’d been joined by Amy Deluca and Alex’s parents, who were also distributing candles. When she looked further around the gym, she saw that most people were the candles and were beginning to light them.
“Does anyone have a match?” she asked. Michael pulled a lighter from the pocket of his jeans. Any other day, she might have commented that she shouldn’t have been surprised. But today wasn’t any other day.
Just as they finished lighting all the candles, the overhead lights dimmed and a spotlight began to shine on the stage on the far side of the gym. Principal Forrester came out from behind the curtain with a wireless microphone in hand.
“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and students. We’re here tonight to honor the memory of one of West Roswell’s brightest students, Elizabeth Parker. Some of you may have heard that this year’s yearbook will be dedicated to Liz, but, with the help of Alexander Whitman and Maria Deluca, the audio-visual club has also put together this video for tonight. And so, if you please …” He motioned to some invisible force, and a large screen lowered from the top of the stage. The lights dimmed again, and a video started, showing childhood photographs and Super-8’s of Liz and her family. There was Grandma Claudia, and Aunt Jenny in spots. Maria and Alex made their cameos as Liz grew before their eyes from infancy and toddlerhood to a wide-eyed eight, nine and ten-year-old girl surrounded by star charts and chemistry kits. There was a Christmas scene with a telescope and a beaming Jeff Parker, clips of Nancy and Liz in matching outfits and a mother-daughter fashion show, of Jeff and Liz on the school camping trips. There was a picture of Liz and Maria in Crashdown uniforms, which witnesses of the momentous event recognized as having been taken on their first day of working at the Café. In another picture, Liz and Kyle smiled at the camera, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Another picture which Maria had taken and forgotten to give to Liz showed her and Max together, eyes shut, lips almost but not quite touching.
It was a life neatly packaged into a three-minute video. Some of those present thought that it was a beautiful and fitting tribute. Others thought it was far too little to adequately capture the life that had been lost.
Eventually the video ended and the lights came back up. As chatter began to disperse through the gym, Tess felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to her (then again, what else was new) she took a few steps away from the group and answered the call with a, “Yes?”
”It’s done,” Nicholas’s voice said before the line went dead.
Tess’s lips curled into a smile as she slipped the phone back into her pocket.
~*~*~
TBC
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-two – Here With Me
I didn't hear you leave,
I wonder how am I still here.
And I don't want to move a thing,
It might change my memory.
Oh I am what I am, I do what I want,
But I can't hide,
And I won't go, I won't sleep,
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me.
And I won't leave, I can't hide,
I cannot be until you're resting here with me.
I don't want to call my friends,
For they might wake me from this dream.
And I can't leave this bed,
Risk forgetting all that's been.
Oh I am what I am, I do what I want,
But I can't hide,
And I won't go, I won't sleep,
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me.
I won't leave, I can't hide,
I cannot be until you're resting here.
I won't go, and I won't sleep,
And I can't breathe until you're resting here with me.
And I won't leave, I can't hide,
I cannot be until you're resting here with me.
-‘Here With Me’
Dido
“Can I help you?” a pretty blond woman in her mid-thirties asked after opening the door. Her eyes were red, and her posture was fatigued.
“Hi,” Diane said. “I’m Diane Evans, and this is my daughter, Isabel. We were here to see Jeff and Nancy.”
“Oh,” the woman looked down, then back up again. “My sister and her husband aren’t …” she shook her head. There weren’t words to adequately express what Nancy and Jeff were going through right now. “They’re not up for company right now.”
“I understand.” Diane held out the flowers she had bought – purple lilies and forget-me-nots, sprinkled with baby’s breath. “Can you please take these for them? From my family.”
“Thank you,” the woman took the flowers from her, then bit her lip as she looked at them as if debating something. Deciding, she looked at them again. “You’re welcome to come inside with me while I put these in some water.”
“Thank you,” Diane said as she stepped in, Isabel following. “You said you’re Nancy’s sister?”
“Yes, I’m Jenny Blaire. I live in Florida. I flew in last night.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. Liz spent some time with you last summer, I rememb—” Diane suddenly stopped, remembering the reason why they were there in the first place.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Jenny tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “I just can’t believe it,” she whispered, rubbing her hands over her eyes.
“I know. None of us can.”
They stood in silence together for a few moments, before Jenny motioned to the flowers. “I’m just going to, um, …” she pointed to the kitchen. “Please make yourselves at home.”
“Uh, Mrs. Blaire?” Isabel said.
“Please. I’m not married. Just call me Jenny.”
“Jenny, um, c-can I please go to Liz’s room?”
Jenny looked embarrassed. “I, I don’t know how Nancy and Jeff would feel about that. No one’s been in there yet.”
“It’s okay,” Isabel hurriedly said. “I didn’t mean to …”
Jenny took in a deep breath as she looked over Isabel. “You know what?” she said kindly. “Go ahead. It’ll be okay.”
Isabel nodded silently and walked down the hall.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” Jenny asked Diane.
“No, that’s okay. We won’t stay long, we don’t want to be a nuisance to anyone. I can’t imagine how this must be for Jeff and Nancy.” Jenny didn’t answer. An answer wasn’t needed.
~*~*~
Isabel looked around Liz’s room. She’d only been in here two or three times before, usually when there was some sort of Czech-related crisis going on. But she’d never really bothered to look around or pay attention to what was really there. Books scattered around here and there, candles and candle holders that were clearly used and loved, … a small dragon in the corner of the window seat. And pictures everywhere; of her family, of her friends. Isabel was even surprised to see a picture of her in a small frame. Granted, it was a group photo, but still. Isabel wasn’t a fool. She knew that “friend” was a term that could be applied to her sparingly, especially with regards to Liz. And still, there she was in the photograph.
Suddenly, Isabel felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Instincts from deep within her, deeper than she’d ever experienced before, were screaming at her, telling her a message in ways she didn’t understand. All she knew was that there was something wrong in this room. Being in this room, about having Liz’s life and privacy laid out before her and open to her perusal and inspection, … something inside of her was crying out to her that it was wrong. It was wrong for her to be there now.
She wasn’t supposed to be there like this.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Isabel flew from the room, down the hall and past where her mom and Jenny were talking quietly in the living room. “Mom, I’ll wait for you in the car,” she rushed out as she ran down the stairs.
With her own key, Isabel let herself into her mother’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Her gut told her now that whatever trespass or wrong-doing she’d committed by being in Liz’s room had been rectified, but that didn’t mean the underlying problem was solved. She tried to calm her beating hard and slow her rapid breathing, but it wasn’t working. She felt that she’d stumbled onto something new, something different, something frightening. Something … alien.
What was wrong with her? Liz was dead. Liz didn’t care if she looked at her things or not.
Isabel looked out the window at the brick exterior over the Crashdown sign. She didn’t know what it was, but staying in Liz’s room hadn’t been an option. It wasn’t that she thought she was in danger, it was just … Isabel didn’t know what it was. How can one rationalize instincts?
Yet even as Isabel tried to do just that, she knew it wasn’t her instincts … at least, not her human ones. And she had the uneasy feeling that things would never be the same again.
~*~*~
Max absently rubbed his eyes as his body tugged him into consciousness. Even in this state, he knew that he was safe. And comfortable. And happier than he could ever remember.
And he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.
When he did, he was surrounded by Liz. They had shifted in their sleep so that Max was on his back, and Liz was partly on top of him, arms and legs wrapped around his body. But even that provided only a small warmth compared to the sunshine he felt as his soul basked in the warmth of hers.
Except … it didn’t.
His eyes flew open, this time without any gentle caressing of an internal clock. He was alone in his bed, no Liz in sight. This only increased his worry. He couldn’t feel her anywhere. It was as if something was standing between them, keeping him from reaching her. Why couldn’t he reach her? Why couldn’t he feel her?
Oh, yeah. She was dead.
As he leaned back against the bed, the tears found their way down his cheeks again. He had long since lost count of how many he’d cried since he’d found out. Half of his soul was gone … just gone. Everything felt muted to him, like a black and white movie in a world that used to be full of color. And the worst part was, he didn’t know how he’d ever get the color back again.
~*~*~
“How’d school go?” Jim Valenti asked as Kyle stumbled into the house.
“Sucked,” was his son’s succinct answer. He plopped himself onto the couch without meeting his father’s gaze. He lifted his feet onto the coffee table, then rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. It was a gesture that Jim recognized as one of his own. Patiently he waited, knowing that Kyle would speak again in a moment.
Sure enough, as soon as he lowered his fingers again, Kyle spoke. “They’re, uh … they’re talking about having a memorial after school tomorrow.”
Jim nodded his head. “Is that good?”
“I dunno,” Kyle said as his dad stood up from his seat at the kitchen table and sat down again beside him on the sofa. “I mean, the people who are organizing it are so … they didn’t even know her, or like her, or hang out with her. And now there are all these flowers and candles and shit outside of her locker. I spent all day wanting to murder somebody.” He let out an insincere chuckle. “Even sprained Moody’s arm during P.E..”
“Again?” Jim exclaimed, trying to smile. “You’re going to ruin that boy’s football chances.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to …” Kyle lamely defended.
Jim let their mutual, forced laughs titter away into the tense air of the living room before he spoke again. “Are you thinking of going?” Kyle looked at him. “To the memorial.”
Kyle looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. “Haven’t made up my mind. I mean, it’s like … if I go, it’s like saying that it’s okay that these hypocrites are setting up this thing. And if I don’t go, it’s like saying that I don’t miss her or care about her enough to show.
Jim took a deep breath. “Son, I don’t think there’s a right decision here. And I don’t think there’s a wrong one, either. I think that … what’s important right now is for you to do what you need to do. You have to take care of yourself right now. If you feel like you need to go, then you should go. If you feel like you need to not go, then don’t. I think that … Liz’ll know what’s in your heart, and whatever decision you make, she’ll understand.”
He tapped his son’s knee with his palm a few times before leaving him to his thoughts.
Kyle wasn’t alone for long before Tess stepped out of her room and into the living room. “How was school?” she asked.
“Sucked.”
~*~*~
The next morning saw all the gang together … minus one. Well, two, actually.
“I can’t believe this,” Maria shook her head as she looked over the makeshift memorial that had sprung up outside of Liz’s locker. Michael stood by her side, with Isabel and Alex next to him. Kyle stood on her other side, and Tess was next to him. “These people have some nerve.”
Isabel shook her head. “I’m just glad Max isn’t seeing this.”
“How’s he doing?” Kyle asked.
Isabel stared ahead, no longer seeing the flowers and pictures and candles before her. “Not so hot,” she answered after a long pause. No further elaboration was needed.
Finally Michael said, “You guys think that, if we all met up here after school, we can get this crap cleared away before Max shows up tomorrow?” They silently exchanged looks, and the deal was struck.
A large beep from the hallway speakers alerted the group and all the other students and teachers to an incoming announcement over the P.A. system. “Good morning, students and faculty,” greeted the deep voice of Principal Forrester. “The last several days since the loss of one of our students has been difficult for all of us. However, I’d like to take this opportunity to remind some of our students and faculty of the school’s policy with regards to the press. Please remember that the school is a community, and that we should present the outside world with a united front. With that in mind, I remind you all that no individual should speak with any reporters regarding the death of Elizabeth Parker and her family and friends. Please respect the privacy of those who have lost a loved one.”
Isabel looked down the hall and saw Pam Troy walking through the doorway with a frown, as if she knew the announcement was directed at her. Served her right, Isabel thought.
Principal Forrester continued, “Any and all contact with the press will be done exclusively through myself and the school’s legal representation. Any future instances of students or faculty members giving interviews will be investigated and dealt with according to the School Charter, which includes such possible punishments as suspension for students and suspension without pay for faculty. Thank you.”
The announcement ended, and the first bell of the morning rang, signaling to all of them that they needed to start heading to their first class of the day.
“Do you think Max will come to the service tonight?” Tess asked as they turned to walk down the hall.
“I don’t know,” Isabel shook her head as she fell into place next to Tess. “I just don’t know.”
~*~*~
“Honey?” Diane Evans poked her head into her son’s room. He was still lying in bed, the sheets pulled up to his shoulders. “Max, honey, please, you have to get up. You’ve been like this for three days.”
Max turned around in bed to look at her. His face was blank, but his mind had finally latched onto a thought apart from Liz. Had it really been three days?
“Sweetie, please, just go and take a shower. You’ll feel better, I promise.” She’d already placed a clean towel and jeans on his bed, and was now moving to rummage through his closet for a T-shirt and boxers. When she’d found the desired items, she placed them next to the jeans on the bed and looked down at her son. After a moment, she said, “Honey, Nancy’s sister called here a few minutes ago. There’s a memorial going on at the school tonight, and she and Jeff and Nancy are going to be there. I know they’d want to see you, Max. And you don’t want them to see you like this, do you?”
Max thought about it for a moment, and realized, his mom was right. He nodded his head.
Diane wanted to cry at the gesture. It was the most reaction anyone had gotten out of him in days. She walked over to the side of the bed and kissed his rough cheek. “I love you, sweetheart,” she whispered before heading out the door again.
Max didn’t know how long he’d waited after she left, but eventually he forced his protesting legs onto the floor as he sat up in bed. Pain shot through his back. Had it really been that long since he’d sat up?
Shrugging the fatigue from his limbs, he forced himself to stand. He grabbed the pile of items at the foot of the bed as he passed and made his way into his ensuite bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, Max had to admit that he did feel better. At least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell. It felt as if a part of him was just pretending to be okay, and another part was still lying heartbroken in bed.
No, that wasn’t it, either. The other part of him was with Liz, wherever she was.
Before he could stop the impulse, his soul reached out for her again. The crushing agony he felt when he reached only the thick wall from before was enough to make his knees buckle. Biting his lip with effort, he forced the pain down within him. His mom had been right, after all – Mr. and Mrs. Parker didn’t need to see him a wreck tonight.
He didn’t know where he got the strength to finish his shower, much less shave and dress, but he managed to accomplish these amazing feats. Eventually he exited the bathroom, feeling as if this masquerade of going through the motions was already getting just a little bit earlier.
All he had to do was forget about the part of him that felt as if his heart had been cut out.
~*~*~
Diane wanted to be overjoyed at the sight of her son walking into the kitchen, clothed with the exception of his bare feet. If it weren’t for the fact that he struck her as an empty shell of a person, she probably would have.
“Do you want something to eat, honey?” she asked. He shook his head ‘no’ as he sat at the kitchen table, arms folded on top. She shook her head and fetched a bowl from the cupboard. Then she poured in a ladle-full of the chicken noodle soup she was finishing, took a napkin and spoon from the drawer, and put it in front of him. He looked up at her with eyes that were seeking and questioning, yet empty at the same time. “Just try,” she pleaded before walking back to the stove.
Max dipped the spoon into the thick broth, lifted it, and slowly poured the contents back in a few times. Finally he managed to get two spoonfuls of the concoction through his lips. It felt like cotton in his mouth and weights in his stomach. His body fought between the urges to vomit the contents back up and grudgingly accept them as some much-needed nourishment. Eventually the latter won out, but still he couldn’t eat anymore.
After noticing that he’d been staring at the bowl without eating for several minutes, Diane took the bowl away again. “It’s okay, honey,” she said as she rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
Max wanted desperately to believe her, but he knew it wasn’t going to be okay ever again.
~*~*~
Max didn’t make it to the memorial service. He began shaking as he was walking to the car with his family and begged to stay behind. His mom agreed on the condition that he didn’t go back to bed. He agreed.
Philip, Diane and Isabel didn’t speak in the car. They didn’t speak as they parked in the high school parking lot. They didn’t say a word as they walked to the gym, which had a steady stream of people flowing in already. And they didn’t talk at all as they walked together as one unit through the doors, looked around the gym, and spotted Jeff Parker and Jenny Blair talking to Maria and Michael. Together they approached the trio, and only then did Diane break the silence.
“Jeff,” she said as she hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”
Jeff forced a small smile. “Thank you for coming,” he responded.
Diane hugged Jenny next as Philip gave Jeff his condolences. “Where’s Nancy?” she asked.
Jenny and Jeff shared a look. “She didn’t feel up to it,” Jenny eventually explained.
Diane nodded understandingly. “Neither could Max.” She looked at Jeff. “I’m so sorry, Jeff. He wanted to be here.”
“I know.” He really did.
Kyle, Tess and the Sheriff joined the group next, having just entered the gym. Somber greetings were exchanged. In an unspoken agreement, the kids moved off to the side and began talking amongst themselves.
“Max didn’t come?” Tess asked.
Isabel shook her head. “He’s still not doing well. He’s better, I just think that this was too much for him today. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“That’s good, ‘cause, uh, …” Kyle said, “Mr. Parker called me earlier today. He said he wants Max and Michael and Alex and I to be pallbearers. “
“Yeah, he called me, too,” Michael said. “José is going to be one, too.”
“Who’s the last one?” Isabel asked.
“I think they’re asking the priest who baptized her,” Maria informed her. “I guess he and Jeff went to high school together or something. He’s flying in tomorrow from Minneapolis.”
“Hey, guys,” Alex said from over Isabel’s shoulder. She and Michael turned around to see him. His arms were full of small white taper candles with paper holders. Taking the hint, Isabel took two of the candles from him and passed them to Tess and Kyle. Michael did the same, taking one for himself and one for Maria. Isabel snuck a glance over at the adults a few feet away. They’d been joined by Amy Deluca and Alex’s parents, who were also distributing candles. When she looked further around the gym, she saw that most people were the candles and were beginning to light them.
“Does anyone have a match?” she asked. Michael pulled a lighter from the pocket of his jeans. Any other day, she might have commented that she shouldn’t have been surprised. But today wasn’t any other day.
Just as they finished lighting all the candles, the overhead lights dimmed and a spotlight began to shine on the stage on the far side of the gym. Principal Forrester came out from behind the curtain with a wireless microphone in hand.
“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and students. We’re here tonight to honor the memory of one of West Roswell’s brightest students, Elizabeth Parker. Some of you may have heard that this year’s yearbook will be dedicated to Liz, but, with the help of Alexander Whitman and Maria Deluca, the audio-visual club has also put together this video for tonight. And so, if you please …” He motioned to some invisible force, and a large screen lowered from the top of the stage. The lights dimmed again, and a video started, showing childhood photographs and Super-8’s of Liz and her family. There was Grandma Claudia, and Aunt Jenny in spots. Maria and Alex made their cameos as Liz grew before their eyes from infancy and toddlerhood to a wide-eyed eight, nine and ten-year-old girl surrounded by star charts and chemistry kits. There was a Christmas scene with a telescope and a beaming Jeff Parker, clips of Nancy and Liz in matching outfits and a mother-daughter fashion show, of Jeff and Liz on the school camping trips. There was a picture of Liz and Maria in Crashdown uniforms, which witnesses of the momentous event recognized as having been taken on their first day of working at the Café. In another picture, Liz and Kyle smiled at the camera, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Another picture which Maria had taken and forgotten to give to Liz showed her and Max together, eyes shut, lips almost but not quite touching.
It was a life neatly packaged into a three-minute video. Some of those present thought that it was a beautiful and fitting tribute. Others thought it was far too little to adequately capture the life that had been lost.
Eventually the video ended and the lights came back up. As chatter began to disperse through the gym, Tess felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to her (then again, what else was new) she took a few steps away from the group and answered the call with a, “Yes?”
”It’s done,” Nicholas’s voice said before the line went dead.
Tess’s lips curled into a smile as she slipped the phone back into her pocket.
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Thu Jul 05, 2007 8:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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LairaBehr4
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Okay, my beta's disappeared, but she did edit most of this already, so ... here you go! Thank you, everyone, for all the bumps and support over the last several months. I appreciate it more than I can say.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-three – Know Who I Am
And I'd give up forever to touch you,
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow.
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,
And I don't want to go home right now.
And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
‘Cause sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
And I don't want the world to see me,
Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
-Iris
Goo Goo Dolls
Somewhere in a pitch-dark alley lined with dumpsters and barred windows, one brave grey mouse approached a still fingertip. Its little nose wiggled up and down before gingerly crawling closer, then stopping, sniffing, and coming closer still. Again and again the mouse repeated its pattern until it crawled on top of the cold, still finger to explore other parts of the creature before it.
Suddenly the shorn, dirty nail jerked upwards and back down again. The mouse scurried away, sufficiently frightened off. After several long, tense seconds, the finger moved again, and another finger twitched just after in an echoing movement.
She was waking up.
~*~*~*~
Max crawled back into bed, noting the clean scent of the fresh sheets his mother had made the bed with. Max couldn’t remember the last time his mother had made his bed; it was one of the earliest chores he and Isabel were given as children. Max could vaguely remember some literature hanging around the house for parents who had adopted children, saying that one key to getting them acclimated to their new lives was to give them simple, easy things to do every day. Making beds was at the top of the list.
He had to admit, it was nice to have clean sheets again. It was one small luxury that he’d forgotten about the last few days. Curling between them, Max felt for the first time that everything really was all right.
But when his head hit the pillow, reality came crashing in once more, and any enjoyment he’d taken in clean sheets was lost as he turned yet again into his pillow to cry.
~*~*~*~
She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know how she got there. She didn’t know where she was from. She didn’t know where she could go.
But she knew she didn’t want to stay in the alley.
She wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to stay warm. All she had on was a long-sleeved purple shirt and a pair of jeans and some tennis shoes. But she didn’t know where the clothes had come from, and she could smell the stench coming off of them. She covered her nose. Was that what she smelled like?
The street at the far end of the alley was dimly lit. She could see a few people on either side of the streets, congregating near lights over doorways, but she didn’t feel too keen to introduce herself.
Lacking choices, she tucked her chin towards her chest and walked straight ahead as quickly as she could.
~*~*~*~
Max turned over in his bed. He ran his arm up the length of the bed, and was startled when it came across someone else in bed with him. He opened his eyes and quietly cried with joy when he saw Liz there with him, looking up at him and smiling.
“Hi,” she coyly smiled. Max didn’t answer, just gaped at her for a moment. Finally he plucked up his courage and traced her cheek. When he felt her skin beneath his fingertips, he nearly cried. Her skin was there, just as soft and warm as the last time he’d touched it.
But it couldn’t be. He knew it was impossible. He knew it wasn’t real. “I’m dreaming,” he said, struck as he said it with a strange sense of déjà-vu.
“Are you?” she asked quietly, smiling.
Her mysterious reply surprised him. In the dreams he’d had the last few days, every time he’d confronted his dream Liz, she’d always agreed. She’d always told him the truth. Now, she was implying he might not be dreaming, and the chance that it was true made him exultant.
Eagerly he tore the sheets off of her, needing to see her more than he needed to breathe. The sweet laugh that emitted from her throat sent his heart flying.
The vision that awaited him when he’d stripped the sheets away left him speechless. She wore a dark red lace camisole that fit her like a second skin, and a pair of his dark blue plaid boxers. Miles of satiny, tawny skin could be seen above and below. Acting on instinct rather than coherent thought, Max lowered his lips to the thin strip of her stomach that peeked out between her clothes. He knew something wasn’t right, but when he tasted her once more, after thinking for so long that he’d never know that taste again, it was so hard to care. More and more he wandered and explored as he pushed the shirt up further and further until finally reaching one sweet breast. As his mouth closed over her cinnamon nipple, her giggles turned to moans and she threaded her fingers into his hair and curled them tightly, causing a scrumptious pain.
~*~*~
The stink of unwashed bodies and human waste wafted through the air, causing her to hunch her shoulders in repulsion. The wind chilled her to the bone as her thin shirt offered no substantial protection. A siren sounded in the next street over, startling her.
“Hey, mamasita!” called out one young Latino man, lean and muscular, while several of his friends laughed and made cat calls. They were standing in front of a 24-hour corner store, the dim Bud Lite sign from the window illuminating their faces. “Why donn you come here? I make you feel good, baby.” He made a motion with his hands that left little to the imagination. She turned away and crossed the street, not wanting to get any closer. Something told her she had to stay away from other people, to keep herself safe, lest anyone discover her secret.
Problem was, she didn’t know what her secret was. She didn’t know anything for certain.
Three aimless blocks later, she saw five black men wearing black bandanas around their heads and baggy jeans with large down jackets. They had surrounded a young black woman who wore a short black skirt with stockings and the tips of the garter belt visible underneath, and a tight, sleeveless purple leather button-down shirt. Sensing danger again, she ducked into another alley as a soft rain began to fall.
~*~*~
“Max!” Liz gasped as she writhed beneath him. She curled her legs around his waist and tried to bring his core closer to hers.
“Wait,” he whispered, looking up into her eyes. “I want to make this about you. Let me make you feel good.” The smile that crept onto her face at his words was at once sweet and seductive, innocent and wanton. He read all the permission he needed in it.
Slowly he slid his hands down her sides, kissing along as he went. When he reached the elastic band of the boxers she wore, he hooked his thumbs in them and slid them down. He used one hand to bend her knee and as he kissed the top of it, he flicked the boxers off her foot. Then he repeated the motion with her other leg. Eagerly she lifted her shirt, which was still bunched up near her shoulders, over her head and tossed it aside before leaning back down against the pillows again.
Something was different about her now, he could tell. But he couldn’t discern what it was, and the last thing he wanted was for his unruly thoughts to distract him from the fact that he finally had her in his arms again.
~*~*~
The smell of old food was strong in the alley, and it made her stomach rumble. She followed her nose, and could hear a discarded chorus of cacophonous voices. A large stool held open a door, and the light it led out graced the alley. A light blue awning stretched from the outside wall of the building, sheltering the storm and the doorway from the fuzzy haze of rain that fell. It was from this door that the smell of food was the strongest and the freshest.
Cautiously she approached the door, trying to stay in the shadows in case she needed to hide from what might be was inside. It was a battle between her belly and her head, and her belly was winning.
Suddenly a large black woman exited the door. She wore a dark green skirt that reached down to her ankles, and a yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. She leaned on one foot as she yelled to whoever was inside, “Honey, just try not to break the plates this time. Now git back out there before they walk outta here.” Even though she faced away from Liz, her voice echoed effortlessly through the alley as if she’d spoken through a microphone. Her voice was warm and smooth and deep like coarse brandy.
With a grunt, the woman stepped up onto the stool and wrapped her ankles around two of the legs. She held a steaming mug and buttered toast in one hand. After she’d gotten comfortable on the stool she took a bite from her toast and raised the glass to her lips, closing her eyes when she tasted its contents. “Mmmh,” the woman sighed with a smile.
She walked toward the woman with her mouth open and watering, so distracted that she didn’t even notice the empty coke can in her path. She accidently kicked it several feet. The noise shocked her so much that she took several steps backwards again, sensing instinctively that she needed to protect herself until she could be certain that she would be safe.
The woman on the stool gasped and jerked back, her eyes darting until she saw the slight waif. Her hand went up to rest over her heart. “Oh, honey,” she chuckled, “you gave me a fright.”
She didn’t answer, just looked the woman over, trying to discern whether she would be a threat or not.
“You aight, honey?” the woman asked. Her brow furrowed as she looked over the young girl before her. She looked small, cold, frightened.
She was also looking ravenously at the food in her hands. “Are ya hungy?” she asked.
The young girl looked from the food to the woman’s face, then back again before nodding. The woman laughed ironically. “Just when I think I’m gonna git a break.” She turned inside. “Hey, Thom!”
A tall black man of about 25 came out through the door, wiping his hands on a worn, dirty white apron that looped around his neck and once around his waist before tying in the front. “Yeah?” he said.
The woman pointed over her shoulder to the young girl. “Will you take this chil’ inside and git her somethin’ to eat?”
Thom looked at her. “Sure,” he said. He used his head to motion through the kitchen. “C’mon.”
She didn’t move. Her eyes were wide with uncertainty. She felt like perhaps she should run; after all, she’d been running from everything unfamiliar ever since she’d woken up. But still, something inside of her told her she didn’t have to be afraid.
“It’s okay, honey,” said the woman again, “you gonna git soaked if stay out heya.”
Summoning her courage, she put one wary foot in front of the other, then another, and then another. “That’s it,” the woman cooed as if she were an infant taking her first steps. “We’ll git you some food and make sure you get home safe.”
She slowly made her way to the door, arms still folded over her chest. She tucked her chin down as the light began to spill over her. But when she walked past the woman, she tried her best to smile.
Thom took her by the shoulder to lead her inside, but as soon as he touched her she became frightened and jumped back into the shadows.
“Oh-kay,” Thom said, “you don’t like to be touched.”
“Oh, come, chil’, it’s all right. Thom ain’t gonna hurt you.” The woman reached her hand out to the girl. After hesitating a few more seconds, she stepped forward again, this time carefully avoiding any contact with either of them.
After she went inside, Thom gave the woman a look. “Don’tchoo look at me in dat tone of voice,” she smiled. “Git her some food and make sure she gits dried off. I’ll be in in a minute.”
Thom sighed and obeyed, following the path the petite brunette had taken just a moment earlier.
~*~*~
The woman came back into the restaurant. It was late, nearly three in the morning, and the only customers she got at this hour were a couple of old men from the community who practically lived there, some gang bangers who knew better than to try anything on her property, and some working girls who knew they could always get some food without being hassled here. Therefore it was easy to spot the young girl from the alley. Her short dark hair was still wet from the rain, and it plastered to the back of her neck. She noticed that she sat as far away from the other patrons as she could, and close to the door. The signs screamed ‘runaway.’
As she approached the table, she noticed that there was a fresh plate of untouched food in front of her. The girl looked at it as if it was her last meal, but she hadn’t even unrolled the paper napkin and taken out the silverware. “Somethun’ wrong, honey?” she asked. “Thom not bring you what you ordered?”
The girl looked up. “I didn’t order anything,” she said softly. “He just brought it to me.”
“Did you want something else?” The girl shook her head. “Then what’s the problem?” The girl looked back at the plate and mumbled something. “Say it again, honey, I can’t hear ya.”
The girl raised her plaintive eyes. “I can’t pay,” she repeated.
“Oh honey, nobody’s asking you ta pay. Just go ahead and eat your food. I’ll be back to check on you latah.”
The girl waited until the woman turned around, then ravenously tore open the napkin and began eating.
By the time the woman looked behind her again, a significant portion of the plate was gone. She shook her head and called into the kitchen. “Thom, you’d better start another plate for the front booth.”
“You’re too kind for your own good, Mabel,” Thom said through the kitchen window.
“The man who sold me my .45 said the same thing,” she smiled.
~*~*~*
Two bread baskets, one dinner special and a bowl of soup later, the woman slid into the booth where the girl was sitting, greedily eating a bowl of vanilla ice cream. “How was ya food, honey?” she asked.
The girl looked up at her, then back down into her bowl. “It’s good, thank you,” she whispered so softly that the woman almost didn’t hear it.
“I’m glad. Thom give you everything you wanted?”
“He just brought me food. I didn’t ask for it.”
“But you liked it?” The girl nodded. “Good. You got a place to sleep tonight?” The girl looked surprised, as if she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Where you staying now?”
Her question was met only with silence.
“Dere’s a couple of rooms upstairs. Used to be a ‘partment that my son used, but he moved out years ago. I been lettin’ the staff use dem when they’re workin’ late. You kin stay there for a while. You got a job?” The girl only shook her head. “Ever waitress befo?”
The girl tried to think. “I don’t remember,” she said.
The woman laughed. “You don’ remember? Well, that’s de first time I hear that one, honey. What’s yer name?”
She looked down at her lap. “I don’t know. I don’t know who I am,” came her soft reply. “I don’t remember.”
~*~*~*~
Max didn’t know how he managed to wake up and do the mundane things that used to be a mindless routine like brushing his teeth and getting dressed. He was still numb, retreating from everything that was happening around him. It was his mother and sister who had really orchestrated each step of his morning thus far, and he was too withdrawn to do anything but obey. But somehow he’d arrived in the passenger seat of the Jeep as Isabel pulled out of the driveway and headed toward school. As they pulled away, Max saw his mother watching them from the porch. She was practically over the moon because he’d managed to eat three bites of a bagel and keep it down this morning.
The prospect of what was waiting at school frightened Max. Liz wouldn’t be there anymore or ever again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what that might be like. He’d already had to endure waking up that morning without her after his exquisite dream the night before.
Quietly he closed his eyes and thought back to the night before. It had been different and the same all at once; more real than the other dreams, but not like what he remembered of the other dreams or of the memories he had of making love to Liz. He guessed that was all he had now – nothing but the memories of the only woman his heart could ever really love.
The Jeep slowed as it turned into the West Roswell High student lot, jerking Max from the memory of his dream. His stomach felt empty and queasy as Isabel turned off the engine. A part of him wanted to stay in the car all day, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He had to get out.
He had to face his first day in the world without her.
~*~*~*~
“Mornin’, honey,” the woman greeted her as she walked down the stairs. She was wearing a dress today, a white dress that fell below her knees with a V-neck and three-quarter length sleeves. Her corn rows were kept in place with a gold scarf tied around her head, and she wore a gold cross. She looked a far cry from the night before, reminding the young girl of a queen instead of the country woman she’d appeared to be.
“You sleep well?” the woman asked. The girl nodded. “That’s good. You remember what your name is yet?” The girl knew the woman thought it was just a line, that she just didn’t want to reveal her name. If only that was really true. But she honestly couldn’t remember her name, where she was from. "Well, we can’t just call you nothin’. You have a name you want us to call ya?” She shook her head. “Okay, we’ll call ya Anna. You don’ like it, too bad. Ya had yer chance.”
She took a step toward Anna and outstretched her hand. “I’m Mabel. This is my place. You still want the waitressing job, Anna?” Anna nodded. “Okay, let’s take you around the place.”
Together they stepped into the kitchen. A short American Indian man with a blue bandana keeping his long hair back was at the stove. “This is Brian. He’s our late-morning chef. Works six to two. Then Elliott comes in and works until ten. Thom’s in here from ten till six. You met him last night.”
Anna nodded.
“We’re gonna pay you in cash. You’re gonna work for tips, so do yo’self a favor and make good tips. And honey, for goodness’ sake, when you’ve got about thirty bucks together, come tell me, ‘cause we gotta do somethin’ about that hair o’ yours.”
“My hair?” Anna said.
“That’s one of the worst haircuts I’ve evah seen. Who’d you let take the scissahs to your hair like that?”
Anna wrapped her hand around her waist and felt for her hair in the middle of her back. When she couldn’t find her hair, she frowned.
Mabel approached her and lifted her hand to Anna’s neck. Anna reflexively backed away, then stopped herself, telling herself that if Mabel was going to hurt her, she’d have done it already. Mabel took some of the ends of Anna’s hair between her fingertips.
“I thought it was longer,” Anna said.
“Why? Did it used to be longer?” Mabel asked, trying to get Anna to open up.
Anna frowned again. “I don’t remember.”
Mabel sighed. “Whatever you say, honey. So, git some breakfast from Brian here, then you can start workin’. And we’ll getcha some new clothes too, since you can’t wear the same outfit every day. This is L.A., honey. Long sleeves will kill you in the summah.”
Anna looked out the kitchen window to the front of the diner, and for the first time saw the bright sunshine streaming in.
This was L.A.
~*~*~*~
The day seemed to fly by for Max in a whirlwind of sympathetic looks, hands clasping his shoulders and a never-ending chorus of “if there’s anything I can do for you’s.” Even the teachers looked at him as though he might break at any moment. But Max didn’t really care about how they looked at him. He didn’t care that school seemed to go on much as it had always done, with tests and assignments and reading to be done. He robotically went from one class to another without really noticing anything that was happening around him.
By the time lunch came around, Max was sick and tired of school. He was tired of seeing people going about as if nothing had changed over the last week. He didn’t understand how the world had failed to turn on its axis when Liz went out of it. Desperate for a chance to be alone, he avoided the quad and instead walked around to the side of the D wing, which faced the football field. Sometimes the team would have practice there in the fall during lunch, but in January the field would stay empty. Picking a random spot, Max sat down. He tried to think about his lunch in his backpack, and how he should probably open it and try to eat something, but even the thought of food made his stomach queasy. So instead, he closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on him while he fell into his emotions. He thought about how he’d used to watch Liz from this spot when she’d used to sit on the bleachers with Maria and watch the team practice. He thought about the chemistry class on the other side of this wall, where he and Liz had worked and studied together during freshman year. He thought about every sweet moment that he’d never have with her again. He couldn’t cry about them anymore. He wanted to, but his tear well was dry, overspent from the last few days. Instead, he just tried to capture in his mind how it felt when she’d touch him, when she’d kiss his lips, when she’d take his hand.
With a start, he realized that somebody had taken his hand. His eyes flew open and he saw Tess sitting next to him, his hand in hers.
“I thought you might not want to be alone,” she said.
Behind her, Michael walked out from behind the corner. Maria followed him. Max heard a twig snap from his other side, and he darted his head to look. Isabel, Alex and Kyle were heading towards him.
Without a word, all of them sat down with their backs against the wall, looking out without really seeing anything. Michael gently cajoled Maria into eating her lunch; but when he and Isabel tried to do the same for Max, they were met only with a cold glance.
And so they sat, each doing their own thing and stuck in their own thoughts, until the bell signaled the end of the lunch hour.
~*~*~*
TBC
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-three – Know Who I Am
And I'd give up forever to touch you,
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow.
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,
And I don't want to go home right now.
And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
‘Cause sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
And I don't want the world to see me,
Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
-Iris
Goo Goo Dolls
Somewhere in a pitch-dark alley lined with dumpsters and barred windows, one brave grey mouse approached a still fingertip. Its little nose wiggled up and down before gingerly crawling closer, then stopping, sniffing, and coming closer still. Again and again the mouse repeated its pattern until it crawled on top of the cold, still finger to explore other parts of the creature before it.
Suddenly the shorn, dirty nail jerked upwards and back down again. The mouse scurried away, sufficiently frightened off. After several long, tense seconds, the finger moved again, and another finger twitched just after in an echoing movement.
She was waking up.
~*~*~*~
Max crawled back into bed, noting the clean scent of the fresh sheets his mother had made the bed with. Max couldn’t remember the last time his mother had made his bed; it was one of the earliest chores he and Isabel were given as children. Max could vaguely remember some literature hanging around the house for parents who had adopted children, saying that one key to getting them acclimated to their new lives was to give them simple, easy things to do every day. Making beds was at the top of the list.
He had to admit, it was nice to have clean sheets again. It was one small luxury that he’d forgotten about the last few days. Curling between them, Max felt for the first time that everything really was all right.
But when his head hit the pillow, reality came crashing in once more, and any enjoyment he’d taken in clean sheets was lost as he turned yet again into his pillow to cry.
~*~*~*~
She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know how she got there. She didn’t know where she was from. She didn’t know where she could go.
But she knew she didn’t want to stay in the alley.
She wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to stay warm. All she had on was a long-sleeved purple shirt and a pair of jeans and some tennis shoes. But she didn’t know where the clothes had come from, and she could smell the stench coming off of them. She covered her nose. Was that what she smelled like?
The street at the far end of the alley was dimly lit. She could see a few people on either side of the streets, congregating near lights over doorways, but she didn’t feel too keen to introduce herself.
Lacking choices, she tucked her chin towards her chest and walked straight ahead as quickly as she could.
~*~*~*~
Max turned over in his bed. He ran his arm up the length of the bed, and was startled when it came across someone else in bed with him. He opened his eyes and quietly cried with joy when he saw Liz there with him, looking up at him and smiling.
“Hi,” she coyly smiled. Max didn’t answer, just gaped at her for a moment. Finally he plucked up his courage and traced her cheek. When he felt her skin beneath his fingertips, he nearly cried. Her skin was there, just as soft and warm as the last time he’d touched it.
But it couldn’t be. He knew it was impossible. He knew it wasn’t real. “I’m dreaming,” he said, struck as he said it with a strange sense of déjà-vu.
“Are you?” she asked quietly, smiling.
Her mysterious reply surprised him. In the dreams he’d had the last few days, every time he’d confronted his dream Liz, she’d always agreed. She’d always told him the truth. Now, she was implying he might not be dreaming, and the chance that it was true made him exultant.
Eagerly he tore the sheets off of her, needing to see her more than he needed to breathe. The sweet laugh that emitted from her throat sent his heart flying.
The vision that awaited him when he’d stripped the sheets away left him speechless. She wore a dark red lace camisole that fit her like a second skin, and a pair of his dark blue plaid boxers. Miles of satiny, tawny skin could be seen above and below. Acting on instinct rather than coherent thought, Max lowered his lips to the thin strip of her stomach that peeked out between her clothes. He knew something wasn’t right, but when he tasted her once more, after thinking for so long that he’d never know that taste again, it was so hard to care. More and more he wandered and explored as he pushed the shirt up further and further until finally reaching one sweet breast. As his mouth closed over her cinnamon nipple, her giggles turned to moans and she threaded her fingers into his hair and curled them tightly, causing a scrumptious pain.
~*~*~
The stink of unwashed bodies and human waste wafted through the air, causing her to hunch her shoulders in repulsion. The wind chilled her to the bone as her thin shirt offered no substantial protection. A siren sounded in the next street over, startling her.
“Hey, mamasita!” called out one young Latino man, lean and muscular, while several of his friends laughed and made cat calls. They were standing in front of a 24-hour corner store, the dim Bud Lite sign from the window illuminating their faces. “Why donn you come here? I make you feel good, baby.” He made a motion with his hands that left little to the imagination. She turned away and crossed the street, not wanting to get any closer. Something told her she had to stay away from other people, to keep herself safe, lest anyone discover her secret.
Problem was, she didn’t know what her secret was. She didn’t know anything for certain.
Three aimless blocks later, she saw five black men wearing black bandanas around their heads and baggy jeans with large down jackets. They had surrounded a young black woman who wore a short black skirt with stockings and the tips of the garter belt visible underneath, and a tight, sleeveless purple leather button-down shirt. Sensing danger again, she ducked into another alley as a soft rain began to fall.
~*~*~
“Max!” Liz gasped as she writhed beneath him. She curled her legs around his waist and tried to bring his core closer to hers.
“Wait,” he whispered, looking up into her eyes. “I want to make this about you. Let me make you feel good.” The smile that crept onto her face at his words was at once sweet and seductive, innocent and wanton. He read all the permission he needed in it.
Slowly he slid his hands down her sides, kissing along as he went. When he reached the elastic band of the boxers she wore, he hooked his thumbs in them and slid them down. He used one hand to bend her knee and as he kissed the top of it, he flicked the boxers off her foot. Then he repeated the motion with her other leg. Eagerly she lifted her shirt, which was still bunched up near her shoulders, over her head and tossed it aside before leaning back down against the pillows again.
Something was different about her now, he could tell. But he couldn’t discern what it was, and the last thing he wanted was for his unruly thoughts to distract him from the fact that he finally had her in his arms again.
~*~*~
The smell of old food was strong in the alley, and it made her stomach rumble. She followed her nose, and could hear a discarded chorus of cacophonous voices. A large stool held open a door, and the light it led out graced the alley. A light blue awning stretched from the outside wall of the building, sheltering the storm and the doorway from the fuzzy haze of rain that fell. It was from this door that the smell of food was the strongest and the freshest.
Cautiously she approached the door, trying to stay in the shadows in case she needed to hide from what might be was inside. It was a battle between her belly and her head, and her belly was winning.
Suddenly a large black woman exited the door. She wore a dark green skirt that reached down to her ankles, and a yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. She leaned on one foot as she yelled to whoever was inside, “Honey, just try not to break the plates this time. Now git back out there before they walk outta here.” Even though she faced away from Liz, her voice echoed effortlessly through the alley as if she’d spoken through a microphone. Her voice was warm and smooth and deep like coarse brandy.
With a grunt, the woman stepped up onto the stool and wrapped her ankles around two of the legs. She held a steaming mug and buttered toast in one hand. After she’d gotten comfortable on the stool she took a bite from her toast and raised the glass to her lips, closing her eyes when she tasted its contents. “Mmmh,” the woman sighed with a smile.
She walked toward the woman with her mouth open and watering, so distracted that she didn’t even notice the empty coke can in her path. She accidently kicked it several feet. The noise shocked her so much that she took several steps backwards again, sensing instinctively that she needed to protect herself until she could be certain that she would be safe.
The woman on the stool gasped and jerked back, her eyes darting until she saw the slight waif. Her hand went up to rest over her heart. “Oh, honey,” she chuckled, “you gave me a fright.”
She didn’t answer, just looked the woman over, trying to discern whether she would be a threat or not.
“You aight, honey?” the woman asked. Her brow furrowed as she looked over the young girl before her. She looked small, cold, frightened.
She was also looking ravenously at the food in her hands. “Are ya hungy?” she asked.
The young girl looked from the food to the woman’s face, then back again before nodding. The woman laughed ironically. “Just when I think I’m gonna git a break.” She turned inside. “Hey, Thom!”
A tall black man of about 25 came out through the door, wiping his hands on a worn, dirty white apron that looped around his neck and once around his waist before tying in the front. “Yeah?” he said.
The woman pointed over her shoulder to the young girl. “Will you take this chil’ inside and git her somethin’ to eat?”
Thom looked at her. “Sure,” he said. He used his head to motion through the kitchen. “C’mon.”
She didn’t move. Her eyes were wide with uncertainty. She felt like perhaps she should run; after all, she’d been running from everything unfamiliar ever since she’d woken up. But still, something inside of her told her she didn’t have to be afraid.
“It’s okay, honey,” said the woman again, “you gonna git soaked if stay out heya.”
Summoning her courage, she put one wary foot in front of the other, then another, and then another. “That’s it,” the woman cooed as if she were an infant taking her first steps. “We’ll git you some food and make sure you get home safe.”
She slowly made her way to the door, arms still folded over her chest. She tucked her chin down as the light began to spill over her. But when she walked past the woman, she tried her best to smile.
Thom took her by the shoulder to lead her inside, but as soon as he touched her she became frightened and jumped back into the shadows.
“Oh-kay,” Thom said, “you don’t like to be touched.”
“Oh, come, chil’, it’s all right. Thom ain’t gonna hurt you.” The woman reached her hand out to the girl. After hesitating a few more seconds, she stepped forward again, this time carefully avoiding any contact with either of them.
After she went inside, Thom gave the woman a look. “Don’tchoo look at me in dat tone of voice,” she smiled. “Git her some food and make sure she gits dried off. I’ll be in in a minute.”
Thom sighed and obeyed, following the path the petite brunette had taken just a moment earlier.
~*~*~
The woman came back into the restaurant. It was late, nearly three in the morning, and the only customers she got at this hour were a couple of old men from the community who practically lived there, some gang bangers who knew better than to try anything on her property, and some working girls who knew they could always get some food without being hassled here. Therefore it was easy to spot the young girl from the alley. Her short dark hair was still wet from the rain, and it plastered to the back of her neck. She noticed that she sat as far away from the other patrons as she could, and close to the door. The signs screamed ‘runaway.’
As she approached the table, she noticed that there was a fresh plate of untouched food in front of her. The girl looked at it as if it was her last meal, but she hadn’t even unrolled the paper napkin and taken out the silverware. “Somethun’ wrong, honey?” she asked. “Thom not bring you what you ordered?”
The girl looked up. “I didn’t order anything,” she said softly. “He just brought it to me.”
“Did you want something else?” The girl shook her head. “Then what’s the problem?” The girl looked back at the plate and mumbled something. “Say it again, honey, I can’t hear ya.”
The girl raised her plaintive eyes. “I can’t pay,” she repeated.
“Oh honey, nobody’s asking you ta pay. Just go ahead and eat your food. I’ll be back to check on you latah.”
The girl waited until the woman turned around, then ravenously tore open the napkin and began eating.
By the time the woman looked behind her again, a significant portion of the plate was gone. She shook her head and called into the kitchen. “Thom, you’d better start another plate for the front booth.”
“You’re too kind for your own good, Mabel,” Thom said through the kitchen window.
“The man who sold me my .45 said the same thing,” she smiled.
~*~*~*
Two bread baskets, one dinner special and a bowl of soup later, the woman slid into the booth where the girl was sitting, greedily eating a bowl of vanilla ice cream. “How was ya food, honey?” she asked.
The girl looked up at her, then back down into her bowl. “It’s good, thank you,” she whispered so softly that the woman almost didn’t hear it.
“I’m glad. Thom give you everything you wanted?”
“He just brought me food. I didn’t ask for it.”
“But you liked it?” The girl nodded. “Good. You got a place to sleep tonight?” The girl looked surprised, as if she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Where you staying now?”
Her question was met only with silence.
“Dere’s a couple of rooms upstairs. Used to be a ‘partment that my son used, but he moved out years ago. I been lettin’ the staff use dem when they’re workin’ late. You kin stay there for a while. You got a job?” The girl only shook her head. “Ever waitress befo?”
The girl tried to think. “I don’t remember,” she said.
The woman laughed. “You don’ remember? Well, that’s de first time I hear that one, honey. What’s yer name?”
She looked down at her lap. “I don’t know. I don’t know who I am,” came her soft reply. “I don’t remember.”
~*~*~*~
Max didn’t know how he managed to wake up and do the mundane things that used to be a mindless routine like brushing his teeth and getting dressed. He was still numb, retreating from everything that was happening around him. It was his mother and sister who had really orchestrated each step of his morning thus far, and he was too withdrawn to do anything but obey. But somehow he’d arrived in the passenger seat of the Jeep as Isabel pulled out of the driveway and headed toward school. As they pulled away, Max saw his mother watching them from the porch. She was practically over the moon because he’d managed to eat three bites of a bagel and keep it down this morning.
The prospect of what was waiting at school frightened Max. Liz wouldn’t be there anymore or ever again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what that might be like. He’d already had to endure waking up that morning without her after his exquisite dream the night before.
Quietly he closed his eyes and thought back to the night before. It had been different and the same all at once; more real than the other dreams, but not like what he remembered of the other dreams or of the memories he had of making love to Liz. He guessed that was all he had now – nothing but the memories of the only woman his heart could ever really love.
The Jeep slowed as it turned into the West Roswell High student lot, jerking Max from the memory of his dream. His stomach felt empty and queasy as Isabel turned off the engine. A part of him wanted to stay in the car all day, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He had to get out.
He had to face his first day in the world without her.
~*~*~*~
“Mornin’, honey,” the woman greeted her as she walked down the stairs. She was wearing a dress today, a white dress that fell below her knees with a V-neck and three-quarter length sleeves. Her corn rows were kept in place with a gold scarf tied around her head, and she wore a gold cross. She looked a far cry from the night before, reminding the young girl of a queen instead of the country woman she’d appeared to be.
“You sleep well?” the woman asked. The girl nodded. “That’s good. You remember what your name is yet?” The girl knew the woman thought it was just a line, that she just didn’t want to reveal her name. If only that was really true. But she honestly couldn’t remember her name, where she was from. "Well, we can’t just call you nothin’. You have a name you want us to call ya?” She shook her head. “Okay, we’ll call ya Anna. You don’ like it, too bad. Ya had yer chance.”
She took a step toward Anna and outstretched her hand. “I’m Mabel. This is my place. You still want the waitressing job, Anna?” Anna nodded. “Okay, let’s take you around the place.”
Together they stepped into the kitchen. A short American Indian man with a blue bandana keeping his long hair back was at the stove. “This is Brian. He’s our late-morning chef. Works six to two. Then Elliott comes in and works until ten. Thom’s in here from ten till six. You met him last night.”
Anna nodded.
“We’re gonna pay you in cash. You’re gonna work for tips, so do yo’self a favor and make good tips. And honey, for goodness’ sake, when you’ve got about thirty bucks together, come tell me, ‘cause we gotta do somethin’ about that hair o’ yours.”
“My hair?” Anna said.
“That’s one of the worst haircuts I’ve evah seen. Who’d you let take the scissahs to your hair like that?”
Anna wrapped her hand around her waist and felt for her hair in the middle of her back. When she couldn’t find her hair, she frowned.
Mabel approached her and lifted her hand to Anna’s neck. Anna reflexively backed away, then stopped herself, telling herself that if Mabel was going to hurt her, she’d have done it already. Mabel took some of the ends of Anna’s hair between her fingertips.
“I thought it was longer,” Anna said.
“Why? Did it used to be longer?” Mabel asked, trying to get Anna to open up.
Anna frowned again. “I don’t remember.”
Mabel sighed. “Whatever you say, honey. So, git some breakfast from Brian here, then you can start workin’. And we’ll getcha some new clothes too, since you can’t wear the same outfit every day. This is L.A., honey. Long sleeves will kill you in the summah.”
Anna looked out the kitchen window to the front of the diner, and for the first time saw the bright sunshine streaming in.
This was L.A.
~*~*~*~
The day seemed to fly by for Max in a whirlwind of sympathetic looks, hands clasping his shoulders and a never-ending chorus of “if there’s anything I can do for you’s.” Even the teachers looked at him as though he might break at any moment. But Max didn’t really care about how they looked at him. He didn’t care that school seemed to go on much as it had always done, with tests and assignments and reading to be done. He robotically went from one class to another without really noticing anything that was happening around him.
By the time lunch came around, Max was sick and tired of school. He was tired of seeing people going about as if nothing had changed over the last week. He didn’t understand how the world had failed to turn on its axis when Liz went out of it. Desperate for a chance to be alone, he avoided the quad and instead walked around to the side of the D wing, which faced the football field. Sometimes the team would have practice there in the fall during lunch, but in January the field would stay empty. Picking a random spot, Max sat down. He tried to think about his lunch in his backpack, and how he should probably open it and try to eat something, but even the thought of food made his stomach queasy. So instead, he closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on him while he fell into his emotions. He thought about how he’d used to watch Liz from this spot when she’d used to sit on the bleachers with Maria and watch the team practice. He thought about the chemistry class on the other side of this wall, where he and Liz had worked and studied together during freshman year. He thought about every sweet moment that he’d never have with her again. He couldn’t cry about them anymore. He wanted to, but his tear well was dry, overspent from the last few days. Instead, he just tried to capture in his mind how it felt when she’d touch him, when she’d kiss his lips, when she’d take his hand.
With a start, he realized that somebody had taken his hand. His eyes flew open and he saw Tess sitting next to him, his hand in hers.
“I thought you might not want to be alone,” she said.
Behind her, Michael walked out from behind the corner. Maria followed him. Max heard a twig snap from his other side, and he darted his head to look. Isabel, Alex and Kyle were heading towards him.
Without a word, all of them sat down with their backs against the wall, looking out without really seeing anything. Michael gently cajoled Maria into eating her lunch; but when he and Isabel tried to do the same for Max, they were met only with a cold glance.
And so they sat, each doing their own thing and stuck in their own thoughts, until the bell signaled the end of the lunch hour.
~*~*~*
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Sat Aug 18, 2007 12:03 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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LairaBehr4
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- Posts: 227
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It's a miracle! AN UPDATE!!
My thanks to the following for their feedback and support:
Natalie36 (x3) but I think the three posts was a mistake - still, I appreciate the enthusiasm!
Rowedog
uw51 (x2)
ultimatepickupline
raemac
Cocogurl (x2)
Alien614
confusedfool
Emz80m
Sprayadhesive - my love, my doll, my dear, dear, beta
behralicious87
Alien_Friend (x3)
dreamerfrvrp3
Cereth (x2)
Natz
Augustus Snodgrass - you're alive!! YAY!!!
flyawayraven
TheShortAiel
Max and Liz Believer (x2) - dude, I miss you!
Synera
Ellie
I appreciate your guys' feedback so much. Thank you for all of your support.
And, without further delay ...
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-four – Goodbye My Lover
You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
I've kissed your lips and held your head.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I am a dreamer but when I wake,
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.
And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be.
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.
I've watched you sleeping for a while.
I'd be the father of your child.
I'd spend a lifetime with you.
I know your fears and you know mine.
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,
And I love you, I swear that's true.
I cannot live without you.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.
- James Blunt, ‘Goodbye My Lover’
The car, eerily silent, smoothly neared its destination. It seemed to Max that the world had come together in perfect stillness, determined not to unwelcomely disturb or mercifully distract him.
His father, dressed in a dark navy suit, drove to the small chapel at the cemetery outside of town where the wake would be held. The desert expanded as far as the eye could see. Max was surrounded by his family. He had never felt so lonely.
From the passenger seat, his mother turned around to regard him. When he didn’t notice, she reached out and touched his knee. He turned to meet her eyes, and she tried to smile at him.
But they both knew that there wasn’t anything to smile about.
Out of nowhere a short adobe building appeared on the horizon out of the desert. Everyone in the car seemed to gasp, as if they hadn’t really believed that this was their destination until they saw it before them.
Silence still reigned as Philip parked the car. Absently the family exited and made their way towards the entrance. Max noted without enthusiasm that Maria’s Jetta was parked a few spots over, and Alex’s parents’ white sedan was in the next aisle over.
The red adobe of the Mexican-style one-storey building seemed to glow in the setting sun; Max had to shield his eyes until after he walked through the front door. His eyes dilated and became accustomed to the electric lighting from lamps and ceiling lights, and he noticed that there were no windows anywhere. He was in a waiting room, tastefully decorated with simple furniture and white roses in neat vases everywhere. In one corner was a display of different bouquets and flower displays that all had little notes attached to them; clearly brought here directly from the Parker’s apartment, a token of how many people had extended their condolences for their present loss. Two or three groups of two or three people huddled around the room; in front of the fireplace, where candles were lit instead of a fire; around an armchair that looked stiff and formal; and near a hallway from which music could be heard.
Silently Max followed his family through the hallway and into the chapel area of the funeral home. Puddles of black were splashed around the room: standing in the aisle, sitting in the pews. In one corner near the back of the room, a priest stood, dressed in black with a white collar. His arm hung around the shoulders of Jeff Parker, who looked like he’d aged fifteen years in only a week. Nancy sat on a chair, sobbing into the shoulders of a blond woman who bore her a remarkable resemblance. Somewhere inside his head Max made the connection that this woman must be Nancy’s sister. His mom had mentioned her.
But most people in the room were lined up near the front of the room, trailing alongside a cherry wood casket. The half-open lid revealed shiny white satin; the color reminded him of a bouquet of white roses he’d once offered her. He tore his eyes away, not wanting to ponder the contents of that casket a moment longer than he had to.
Michael and Maria were already sitting silently, her head resting in the crook of his neck, in a pew towards the back only a few rows up from where the Parkers sat. Max made a beeline for them, needing a chance to adjust himself to this place, to this event, before he tried talking to anyone. He awkwardly entered the narrow space and scooted along until he reached Maria’s side. He sat down and stared at the back of the pew in front of him, determined not to raise his eyes any further lest he see that horrible wooden box again.
From around Maria’s shoulders Michael reached out and squeezed Max’s arm. Without lifting her head Maria took Max’s hand and interlaced their fingers.
No words were spoken. None were needed.
~*~*~
“Max.” Max turned around in his seat and looked up into his father’s face as he felt his big hand take his shoulder. “Come with me. Jeff and Nancy want to talk to you.”
Max stood and followed his father down the aisle and out of the main room, noticing for the first time that Nancy and Jeff weren’t there anymore, and that more people had arrived.
His father walked through a door and into a room that would have gone entirely overlooked otherwise. Inside were Nancy and Jeff, along with the priest. “Max,” Jeff stepped forward when he saw the boy. The two shook hands silently, knowing there was nothing either could say. “I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He stepped back, and the priest came forward. “This is Jamie Lakota. He and I went to school together. He baptized Liz when she was a baby.”
Father Lakota put his arm forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Max. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Max said quietly as he took the offered hand. Seeing him more closely now, Max saw that the priest had the dark eyes and high cheekbones that were typical of American Indians in the southwest. Like Jeff, his hair was graying at the temples.
“Max, we were wondering,” Jeff said in a voice rife with grief and caution mixed together, “we were wondering if you would do one of the readings in the service tonight. I know it’s short notice, but it would mean a lot to us.”
Stunned, Max nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.” He hoped rather than believed that his statement was true.
Father Lakota handed Max a piece of paper. “This is the Old Testament reading that Jeff and Nancy asked for. There’s another piece of paper up on the podium with this on it, but I thought you’d want to read it over first.”
“Thanks,” Max absently said as he skimmed over it, then handed it back.
“You can keep it a little longer,” Father Lakota said.
Max shook his head. “Don’t need to.”
At the priest’s confused look, Phillip said, “My son has a photographic memory. He’s always had it.”
“I didn’t know that about you, Max,” Nancy spoke up for the first time.
Max ducked his head. “I don’t talk about it much.”
“Okay, then,” said Lakota. “This will be the first reading, so after everyone sits down for the first time, that’ll be your cue to come up.”
“’Kay,” Max responded. Chills started to creep around the back of his neck. There was something familiar about them, as though he’d had them before, but he couldn’t remember exactly where or when. Either way, he was getting uncomfortable in the room there. A quick nod from Jeff was all the permission he needed to leave the room.
Back in the chapel, his mother was talking with Gloria Whitman and Amy Deluca. When she saw her son’s face whiter than usual, she excused herself from the other ladies and went to her son.
“Honey?” she asked sympathetically, reaching her hand out to touch his elbow. “Are you okay?”
Max’s eyes darted around. “They asked me to read something,” he said nervously.
Diane’s heart melted at her baby’s pain. He’d been through so much this week already that it was almost silly for her to wish that he didn’t have to speak in public. It seemed such a small thing in comparison to everything else that had happened, but she knew he’d never felt comfortable getting up and speaking in front of people. She felt so powerless to help him with everything else; she’d do anything to take away even an ounce of her child’s pain. And if that meant speaking in public, that was enough for her.
“You don’t have to, sweetie,” she half comforted, half implored.
Max’s forehead crinkled with pain and thought. “I will.”
~*~*~*~
The priest led the congregation through a few prayers and before inviting everyone to please be seated, and meeting Max’s eyes, giving him his cue. Max’s stomach felt like fifty pounds of weights had settled in it as he stepped out from his pew and walked up to the podium. He kept his eyes downward as he walked, knowing that if he got too close of a view of what was inside the wooden casket, he’d never make it through the next two minutes. His mother had been right; Nancy and Jeff Parker didn’t need to see him crying right now. He could save that until later.
He reached the podium, and just as Father Lakota had said, there was the paper with the reading on it. Max already had it memorized, but he looked down at it anyway, not wanting to lock eyes with anyone else.
“A reading from the Song of Songs,” he began. “I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley. As a flower among the thorns, so is my beloved among women. I delight in her shadow, and her fruit is sweet to my mouth. She brings me into the banquet hall, and her emblem over me is love. Strengthen me with raisin cakes, refresh me with apples, for I am overcome with love. The left hand is under my head, and the right arm embraces me. I implore you, daughters of Jerusalem. Do not arouse, do not stir up love before its time.”
Max drew a deep breath. Each word was harder to speak than the last, and he wished for it to end.
“See now, my lover comes, springing across the mountains, leaping across the hills. My lover is like a gazelle. Here she stands behind the wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattices. My lover speaks to me, ‘Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! For see, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth. The fig tree puts forth its fruit, and the vines, in bloom, give forth fragrance. Arise, my beloved, and come! Oh my dove in the clefts of the rock, in the secret recesses of the cliff. Let me see you, let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet, and you are beautiful.’”
That was it; he could speak no more. Eyes still trained towards his feet, he hurried as quickly as he could back to his place.
~*~*~
The rest of the service passed in a daze for Max. He couldn’t even bring himself to pay attention as one person after another delivered touching eulogies on Liz’s life, from infancy and early childhood on through her young teen years, speculating what she might have become and promising to miss her every step of the way. Max didn’t need to hear any of this. What he hadn’t been around to see himself, he’d shared with her through their flashes; and what she might have been was too painful to even contemplate. As for missing her, oh, the words fell painfully short. His body felt torn in two, his heart felt like every beat was a struggle.
And then, he made the greatest mistake of all. He looked up and let his gaze rest on the slight curve of her profiled face, the only part of her that he could see over the top of the casket.
And then, finally, the tears started to fall again. They were quiet, slow tears, very different than most of the others he’d shed this week. These were a steady trickle, as if life was draining out of him and crawling to join her in that large wooden box.
“Max,” Maria’s voice called to him. He turned to her with empty eyes. “We’ve got to go.” He looked around; theirs was the only pew still full. Isabel now sat on his left, with Alex, Kyle and Tess next to her. All of them looked at him expectantly.
“Give me a minute,” he said. Understanding what he was asking, Isabel kissed him on the cheek and stood up. The others followed her cue and left Max sitting in the room alone.
At first he just sat there, holding the moment in precious, delicate hands. When he finally felt ready, he stood up. His breath sharpened as he took one small step, then another, towards the front of the room. Towards Liz.
He couldn’t help the tears that fell harder and faster as more and more of her beautiful body came into his view. Her hands were folded neatly above her stomach, a gold and ruby rosary hanging delicately from her fingers. Her skin looked different, darker than they used to, and the skin was broken and torn in places that were painted over with the mortician’s make-up. She was dressed in a long black dress that he hadn’t seen before; the exact cut of it disappeared beneath the closed half of the casket.
His eyes traveled up, and he could see the lines where the make-up ended underneath the thick straps of the dress. Her curves were unfamiliar, different from the way he saw her in his mind’s eye. He vaguely remembered his mother saying that a person’s body swells up after a car accident, and he guessed that was the reason why she looked different. The cuts on her arm got longer, wider. In one place, near her shoulder, Max could see the skin had been peeled away roughly. He shuddered as he pictured her body flying across the asphalt street in front of her home. His hand moved to heal it, but when he remembered that it wouldn’t matter, he pulled his hand away again as if he’d been burned.
And then he saw her face, her beautiful face. It was wider than usual, again from the swelling. She was the same false, sickly color that had covered her hands and arms. The make-up seemed painted an inch thick, adding to the fake impression that she made. A few large scratches were on her cheeks and forehead, still covered. She was so still, like a painting. Like a three-dimensional photograph. This wasn’t the Liz that he’d known and loved. This was only her shell.
Finally finding his courage, he reached one small fingertip in and traced over one of the cuts on her cheek. She felt so cold, like marble. He wanted to kiss her, but knew he wouldn’t be able to handle feeling that same frost in such an intimate caress.
Something flicked in his peripheral vision, and his head jerked up to the darkened doorway along the wall. A tall Hispanic man in a suit nodded at him as if to assure him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He must work here, Max thought.
The privacy spoiled, Max took one more look at her, memorizing the look of her. Then he stepped back, turned around and walked away. The pain stayed with him, but he could feel some of the dead weight leaving his body, as if he’d left it in the casket with her.
Six heads turned to him as he came out of the room. Quietly he walked up to his friends. “Hey,” Isabel said softly. “We were talking about trying to go somewhere. Maybe get some food.”
It was on the tip of Max’s mouth to say he wasn’t hungry, but he stopped. The last thing he wanted was to go home with his parents, who would treat him with kid gloves for the rest of the night. The house would be far too quiet, and there would be nothing to do except think. And thinking was a dangerous activity these days.
“Where at?”
All six of his friends looked visibly relieved to hear him say that.
“Maybe Paco’s Tacos,” Kyle said. Paco’s sold Mexican food, as well as burgers and chicken strips. Max nodded his consent, though he still didn’t feel particularly hungry.
Maria spoke up. “Well, I’ve got my car here, but I can’t fit seven people in there.”
“Tess and I drove my car here,” Kyle said.
Isabel looked to her left at Alex. She could tell that he was feeling torn between her and Maria, wanting to be there for both of them. But he’d been with her so much this week, and she knew that he and Maria needed some time together, too. “Max and I can ride with you guys,” she said. “Alex can ride with Maria.”
“’Kay, then,” Kyle said. “Let me go tell my dad.”
The group dispersed in the direction of their relative parents and guardians to let them know of the plan, and within a few minutes they were filing out the front door again. The world had grown dark, and Max took a moment to stare up at the sky. He could see the Milky Way and various constellations. But for quite possibly the first time, he didn’t wonder about his home planet as he looked up. Instead, he wondered if he was wrong about his view of the world. He’d once told Liz that he didn’t believe in God, and he didn’t; but after attending such a religious ceremony, knowing another one was looming tomorrow, he wondered if he was wrong. He pictured the rosary hanging from Liz’s hands; he thought about the words from the piece of paper he’d read from. Maybe, if he was lucky, Liz was somewhere where someone was taking care of her, the way he wanted to.
But she wasn’t. She was dead and cold, and going into the ground tomorrow. And he was going to help carry her there.
“Max?” Tess asked, standing next to the open door of the passenger side of Kyle’s car.
Max shoved his hands in his pockets. “Coming.”
~*~*~
Suddenly from inside of her, Anna felt a wave of sadness engulfing her. She lost her balance and the dishes in her hands fell to the ground, crashing into a dozen pieces.
“Yo,” Thom called from behind the counter. “Ya okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” Anna said, not knowing what she was feeling but definitely knowing that Thom, despite his prowess, wouldn’t be able to help. She knelt down and began picking up the pieces. At that moment, it felt a lot more significant than just cleaning up after a plate.
~*~*~
The day of the funeral dawned sunny and warm. Max woke up, showered, dressed, tried to eat. He felt rested after a night’s dreamless sleep, which was good; he knew he was going to need his rest to face the worst day of his life.
He seemed to be having a lot of those lately.
~*~*~
The casket was closed; Max didn’t know whether he was happy about that or not. He didn’t know if he could bear to see Liz like that again, but as he helped carry the long wooden box through the church and throughout the entire service, he could only think that he would never see Liz again.
The thought made him sick.
~*~*~
Jeff, Nancy, Jenny, Father Lakota and Father O’Brian, who was officiating at the funeral, rode together in one black town car behind the hearse. Max, Kyle, Alex, Michael and José rode behind them. Back through the desert, down the familiar highway towards the cemetery that they’d driven to only last night.
A few more prayers and blessings, some representative from the cemetery releasing some doves, and the casket was mechanically lowered into the ground. Inch by inch it disappeared into the ground. Max tried to steel himself against the sight of it, and against the cries Nancy made as she leaned against Jeff’s shoulder.
Just as he lost sight of the box that held in its confines the most incredible woman he’d ever known, a hand took is. He looked over and saw Tess standing next to him. He didn’t need to look down to know she was holding his hand.
Before he could think too much about it, his other hand was encompassed in warmth and friendship. He looked to his other side and saw his sister. Two hands grasped his shoulders and he knew it was Michael and Alex. Kyle appeared next to Tess. Maria ran a hand down his back.
They were together now, and they were all they had.
~*~*~
TBC
My thanks to the following for their feedback and support:
Natalie36 (x3) but I think the three posts was a mistake - still, I appreciate the enthusiasm!
Rowedog
uw51 (x2)
ultimatepickupline
raemac
Cocogurl (x2)
Alien614
confusedfool
Emz80m
Sprayadhesive - my love, my doll, my dear, dear, beta
behralicious87
Alien_Friend (x3)
dreamerfrvrp3
Cereth (x2)
Natz
Augustus Snodgrass - you're alive!! YAY!!!
flyawayraven
TheShortAiel
Max and Liz Believer (x2) - dude, I miss you!
Synera
Ellie
I appreciate your guys' feedback so much. Thank you for all of your support.
And, without further delay ...
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-four – Goodbye My Lover
You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
I've kissed your lips and held your head.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I am a dreamer but when I wake,
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.
And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be.
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.
I've watched you sleeping for a while.
I'd be the father of your child.
I'd spend a lifetime with you.
I know your fears and you know mine.
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,
And I love you, I swear that's true.
I cannot live without you.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.
- James Blunt, ‘Goodbye My Lover’
The car, eerily silent, smoothly neared its destination. It seemed to Max that the world had come together in perfect stillness, determined not to unwelcomely disturb or mercifully distract him.
His father, dressed in a dark navy suit, drove to the small chapel at the cemetery outside of town where the wake would be held. The desert expanded as far as the eye could see. Max was surrounded by his family. He had never felt so lonely.
From the passenger seat, his mother turned around to regard him. When he didn’t notice, she reached out and touched his knee. He turned to meet her eyes, and she tried to smile at him.
But they both knew that there wasn’t anything to smile about.
Out of nowhere a short adobe building appeared on the horizon out of the desert. Everyone in the car seemed to gasp, as if they hadn’t really believed that this was their destination until they saw it before them.
Silence still reigned as Philip parked the car. Absently the family exited and made their way towards the entrance. Max noted without enthusiasm that Maria’s Jetta was parked a few spots over, and Alex’s parents’ white sedan was in the next aisle over.
The red adobe of the Mexican-style one-storey building seemed to glow in the setting sun; Max had to shield his eyes until after he walked through the front door. His eyes dilated and became accustomed to the electric lighting from lamps and ceiling lights, and he noticed that there were no windows anywhere. He was in a waiting room, tastefully decorated with simple furniture and white roses in neat vases everywhere. In one corner was a display of different bouquets and flower displays that all had little notes attached to them; clearly brought here directly from the Parker’s apartment, a token of how many people had extended their condolences for their present loss. Two or three groups of two or three people huddled around the room; in front of the fireplace, where candles were lit instead of a fire; around an armchair that looked stiff and formal; and near a hallway from which music could be heard.
Silently Max followed his family through the hallway and into the chapel area of the funeral home. Puddles of black were splashed around the room: standing in the aisle, sitting in the pews. In one corner near the back of the room, a priest stood, dressed in black with a white collar. His arm hung around the shoulders of Jeff Parker, who looked like he’d aged fifteen years in only a week. Nancy sat on a chair, sobbing into the shoulders of a blond woman who bore her a remarkable resemblance. Somewhere inside his head Max made the connection that this woman must be Nancy’s sister. His mom had mentioned her.
But most people in the room were lined up near the front of the room, trailing alongside a cherry wood casket. The half-open lid revealed shiny white satin; the color reminded him of a bouquet of white roses he’d once offered her. He tore his eyes away, not wanting to ponder the contents of that casket a moment longer than he had to.
Michael and Maria were already sitting silently, her head resting in the crook of his neck, in a pew towards the back only a few rows up from where the Parkers sat. Max made a beeline for them, needing a chance to adjust himself to this place, to this event, before he tried talking to anyone. He awkwardly entered the narrow space and scooted along until he reached Maria’s side. He sat down and stared at the back of the pew in front of him, determined not to raise his eyes any further lest he see that horrible wooden box again.
From around Maria’s shoulders Michael reached out and squeezed Max’s arm. Without lifting her head Maria took Max’s hand and interlaced their fingers.
No words were spoken. None were needed.
~*~*~
“Max.” Max turned around in his seat and looked up into his father’s face as he felt his big hand take his shoulder. “Come with me. Jeff and Nancy want to talk to you.”
Max stood and followed his father down the aisle and out of the main room, noticing for the first time that Nancy and Jeff weren’t there anymore, and that more people had arrived.
His father walked through a door and into a room that would have gone entirely overlooked otherwise. Inside were Nancy and Jeff, along with the priest. “Max,” Jeff stepped forward when he saw the boy. The two shook hands silently, knowing there was nothing either could say. “I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He stepped back, and the priest came forward. “This is Jamie Lakota. He and I went to school together. He baptized Liz when she was a baby.”
Father Lakota put his arm forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Max. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Max said quietly as he took the offered hand. Seeing him more closely now, Max saw that the priest had the dark eyes and high cheekbones that were typical of American Indians in the southwest. Like Jeff, his hair was graying at the temples.
“Max, we were wondering,” Jeff said in a voice rife with grief and caution mixed together, “we were wondering if you would do one of the readings in the service tonight. I know it’s short notice, but it would mean a lot to us.”
Stunned, Max nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.” He hoped rather than believed that his statement was true.
Father Lakota handed Max a piece of paper. “This is the Old Testament reading that Jeff and Nancy asked for. There’s another piece of paper up on the podium with this on it, but I thought you’d want to read it over first.”
“Thanks,” Max absently said as he skimmed over it, then handed it back.
“You can keep it a little longer,” Father Lakota said.
Max shook his head. “Don’t need to.”
At the priest’s confused look, Phillip said, “My son has a photographic memory. He’s always had it.”
“I didn’t know that about you, Max,” Nancy spoke up for the first time.
Max ducked his head. “I don’t talk about it much.”
“Okay, then,” said Lakota. “This will be the first reading, so after everyone sits down for the first time, that’ll be your cue to come up.”
“’Kay,” Max responded. Chills started to creep around the back of his neck. There was something familiar about them, as though he’d had them before, but he couldn’t remember exactly where or when. Either way, he was getting uncomfortable in the room there. A quick nod from Jeff was all the permission he needed to leave the room.
Back in the chapel, his mother was talking with Gloria Whitman and Amy Deluca. When she saw her son’s face whiter than usual, she excused herself from the other ladies and went to her son.
“Honey?” she asked sympathetically, reaching her hand out to touch his elbow. “Are you okay?”
Max’s eyes darted around. “They asked me to read something,” he said nervously.
Diane’s heart melted at her baby’s pain. He’d been through so much this week already that it was almost silly for her to wish that he didn’t have to speak in public. It seemed such a small thing in comparison to everything else that had happened, but she knew he’d never felt comfortable getting up and speaking in front of people. She felt so powerless to help him with everything else; she’d do anything to take away even an ounce of her child’s pain. And if that meant speaking in public, that was enough for her.
“You don’t have to, sweetie,” she half comforted, half implored.
Max’s forehead crinkled with pain and thought. “I will.”
~*~*~*~
The priest led the congregation through a few prayers and before inviting everyone to please be seated, and meeting Max’s eyes, giving him his cue. Max’s stomach felt like fifty pounds of weights had settled in it as he stepped out from his pew and walked up to the podium. He kept his eyes downward as he walked, knowing that if he got too close of a view of what was inside the wooden casket, he’d never make it through the next two minutes. His mother had been right; Nancy and Jeff Parker didn’t need to see him crying right now. He could save that until later.
He reached the podium, and just as Father Lakota had said, there was the paper with the reading on it. Max already had it memorized, but he looked down at it anyway, not wanting to lock eyes with anyone else.
“A reading from the Song of Songs,” he began. “I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley. As a flower among the thorns, so is my beloved among women. I delight in her shadow, and her fruit is sweet to my mouth. She brings me into the banquet hall, and her emblem over me is love. Strengthen me with raisin cakes, refresh me with apples, for I am overcome with love. The left hand is under my head, and the right arm embraces me. I implore you, daughters of Jerusalem. Do not arouse, do not stir up love before its time.”
Max drew a deep breath. Each word was harder to speak than the last, and he wished for it to end.
“See now, my lover comes, springing across the mountains, leaping across the hills. My lover is like a gazelle. Here she stands behind the wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattices. My lover speaks to me, ‘Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come! For see, the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth. The fig tree puts forth its fruit, and the vines, in bloom, give forth fragrance. Arise, my beloved, and come! Oh my dove in the clefts of the rock, in the secret recesses of the cliff. Let me see you, let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet, and you are beautiful.’”
That was it; he could speak no more. Eyes still trained towards his feet, he hurried as quickly as he could back to his place.
~*~*~
The rest of the service passed in a daze for Max. He couldn’t even bring himself to pay attention as one person after another delivered touching eulogies on Liz’s life, from infancy and early childhood on through her young teen years, speculating what she might have become and promising to miss her every step of the way. Max didn’t need to hear any of this. What he hadn’t been around to see himself, he’d shared with her through their flashes; and what she might have been was too painful to even contemplate. As for missing her, oh, the words fell painfully short. His body felt torn in two, his heart felt like every beat was a struggle.
And then, he made the greatest mistake of all. He looked up and let his gaze rest on the slight curve of her profiled face, the only part of her that he could see over the top of the casket.
And then, finally, the tears started to fall again. They were quiet, slow tears, very different than most of the others he’d shed this week. These were a steady trickle, as if life was draining out of him and crawling to join her in that large wooden box.
“Max,” Maria’s voice called to him. He turned to her with empty eyes. “We’ve got to go.” He looked around; theirs was the only pew still full. Isabel now sat on his left, with Alex, Kyle and Tess next to her. All of them looked at him expectantly.
“Give me a minute,” he said. Understanding what he was asking, Isabel kissed him on the cheek and stood up. The others followed her cue and left Max sitting in the room alone.
At first he just sat there, holding the moment in precious, delicate hands. When he finally felt ready, he stood up. His breath sharpened as he took one small step, then another, towards the front of the room. Towards Liz.
He couldn’t help the tears that fell harder and faster as more and more of her beautiful body came into his view. Her hands were folded neatly above her stomach, a gold and ruby rosary hanging delicately from her fingers. Her skin looked different, darker than they used to, and the skin was broken and torn in places that were painted over with the mortician’s make-up. She was dressed in a long black dress that he hadn’t seen before; the exact cut of it disappeared beneath the closed half of the casket.
His eyes traveled up, and he could see the lines where the make-up ended underneath the thick straps of the dress. Her curves were unfamiliar, different from the way he saw her in his mind’s eye. He vaguely remembered his mother saying that a person’s body swells up after a car accident, and he guessed that was the reason why she looked different. The cuts on her arm got longer, wider. In one place, near her shoulder, Max could see the skin had been peeled away roughly. He shuddered as he pictured her body flying across the asphalt street in front of her home. His hand moved to heal it, but when he remembered that it wouldn’t matter, he pulled his hand away again as if he’d been burned.
And then he saw her face, her beautiful face. It was wider than usual, again from the swelling. She was the same false, sickly color that had covered her hands and arms. The make-up seemed painted an inch thick, adding to the fake impression that she made. A few large scratches were on her cheeks and forehead, still covered. She was so still, like a painting. Like a three-dimensional photograph. This wasn’t the Liz that he’d known and loved. This was only her shell.
Finally finding his courage, he reached one small fingertip in and traced over one of the cuts on her cheek. She felt so cold, like marble. He wanted to kiss her, but knew he wouldn’t be able to handle feeling that same frost in such an intimate caress.
Something flicked in his peripheral vision, and his head jerked up to the darkened doorway along the wall. A tall Hispanic man in a suit nodded at him as if to assure him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He must work here, Max thought.
The privacy spoiled, Max took one more look at her, memorizing the look of her. Then he stepped back, turned around and walked away. The pain stayed with him, but he could feel some of the dead weight leaving his body, as if he’d left it in the casket with her.
Six heads turned to him as he came out of the room. Quietly he walked up to his friends. “Hey,” Isabel said softly. “We were talking about trying to go somewhere. Maybe get some food.”
It was on the tip of Max’s mouth to say he wasn’t hungry, but he stopped. The last thing he wanted was to go home with his parents, who would treat him with kid gloves for the rest of the night. The house would be far too quiet, and there would be nothing to do except think. And thinking was a dangerous activity these days.
“Where at?”
All six of his friends looked visibly relieved to hear him say that.
“Maybe Paco’s Tacos,” Kyle said. Paco’s sold Mexican food, as well as burgers and chicken strips. Max nodded his consent, though he still didn’t feel particularly hungry.
Maria spoke up. “Well, I’ve got my car here, but I can’t fit seven people in there.”
“Tess and I drove my car here,” Kyle said.
Isabel looked to her left at Alex. She could tell that he was feeling torn between her and Maria, wanting to be there for both of them. But he’d been with her so much this week, and she knew that he and Maria needed some time together, too. “Max and I can ride with you guys,” she said. “Alex can ride with Maria.”
“’Kay, then,” Kyle said. “Let me go tell my dad.”
The group dispersed in the direction of their relative parents and guardians to let them know of the plan, and within a few minutes they were filing out the front door again. The world had grown dark, and Max took a moment to stare up at the sky. He could see the Milky Way and various constellations. But for quite possibly the first time, he didn’t wonder about his home planet as he looked up. Instead, he wondered if he was wrong about his view of the world. He’d once told Liz that he didn’t believe in God, and he didn’t; but after attending such a religious ceremony, knowing another one was looming tomorrow, he wondered if he was wrong. He pictured the rosary hanging from Liz’s hands; he thought about the words from the piece of paper he’d read from. Maybe, if he was lucky, Liz was somewhere where someone was taking care of her, the way he wanted to.
But she wasn’t. She was dead and cold, and going into the ground tomorrow. And he was going to help carry her there.
“Max?” Tess asked, standing next to the open door of the passenger side of Kyle’s car.
Max shoved his hands in his pockets. “Coming.”
~*~*~
Suddenly from inside of her, Anna felt a wave of sadness engulfing her. She lost her balance and the dishes in her hands fell to the ground, crashing into a dozen pieces.
“Yo,” Thom called from behind the counter. “Ya okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” Anna said, not knowing what she was feeling but definitely knowing that Thom, despite his prowess, wouldn’t be able to help. She knelt down and began picking up the pieces. At that moment, it felt a lot more significant than just cleaning up after a plate.
~*~*~
The day of the funeral dawned sunny and warm. Max woke up, showered, dressed, tried to eat. He felt rested after a night’s dreamless sleep, which was good; he knew he was going to need his rest to face the worst day of his life.
He seemed to be having a lot of those lately.
~*~*~
The casket was closed; Max didn’t know whether he was happy about that or not. He didn’t know if he could bear to see Liz like that again, but as he helped carry the long wooden box through the church and throughout the entire service, he could only think that he would never see Liz again.
The thought made him sick.
~*~*~
Jeff, Nancy, Jenny, Father Lakota and Father O’Brian, who was officiating at the funeral, rode together in one black town car behind the hearse. Max, Kyle, Alex, Michael and José rode behind them. Back through the desert, down the familiar highway towards the cemetery that they’d driven to only last night.
A few more prayers and blessings, some representative from the cemetery releasing some doves, and the casket was mechanically lowered into the ground. Inch by inch it disappeared into the ground. Max tried to steel himself against the sight of it, and against the cries Nancy made as she leaned against Jeff’s shoulder.
Just as he lost sight of the box that held in its confines the most incredible woman he’d ever known, a hand took is. He looked over and saw Tess standing next to him. He didn’t need to look down to know she was holding his hand.
Before he could think too much about it, his other hand was encompassed in warmth and friendship. He looked to his other side and saw his sister. Two hands grasped his shoulders and he knew it was Michael and Alex. Kyle appeared next to Tess. Maria ran a hand down his back.
They were together now, and they were all they had.
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Mon Oct 29, 2007 6:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
LairaBehr4
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 227
- Joined: Mon Mar 06, 2006 3:48 pm
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Re: The Butterfly Loss (ML Adult) Ch. 25, p.9, 18Jan08
My eternal thanks to the following:
Spray
Lurkers
Behralicious87
Alien_Friend (x5)
Spray
Cassie
Synera (x2)
Natalie36
Rowedog
Thetvgeneral (x2) - How's my little baby? I miss my baby ...
uw51 (x2) - yeah, I think most other people hate Tess, too.
Orangesky (x2) - Welcome to the show, Captain Obvious.
Max and liz believer - please see the note to Chula above.
Alien614
Cereth - Um, sorry?
Cocogurl (x3)
Raemac
Carter13
Dreamerfrvrp3
Katydid (x3)
Zanssoulmate (x5)
RiceKrispy (x2)
Behrluv32
Dreamsatnight (x2)
Razz214
Raychelxlicious (x2)
Spray
DreamerMaxBehrian
And last, but not least, Spray.
Guys, I want to apologize. I meant to get this part to you guys so much earlier. I had a ton of personal stuff - I stopped working at my part-time job, I had a death in the family, and I had a brief ER stay. Please forgive me, guys.
Here you go.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-five – Be With Me Tonight - II
I go to school, I write exams
And if I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
Does anyone really give a damn?
And if they do, they’ll soon forget
‘Cause it won’t take much for me to show
My life ain’t over yet.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange,
I wake up wondering if anything in my life
Is ever gonna change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange,
And everything around me stays the same.
This name is the hair shirt I wear
And this hair shirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
Bear it with me, bear it with me, bear it with me.
Be with me tonight,
I know it isn’t right,
But be with me tonight.
What a Good Boy
Barenaked Ladies
Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee.
-Author unknown
Four Weeks Later
Max lifted a heavy arm to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. He was getting accustomed to the dread that accompanied each new day. There was no joy in his life anymore, no bright spots on his horizon. The months of living after Liz had run away from him, her summer in Florida, the awkward weeks that followed her return, the devastation he’d felt seeing her with Kyle that night in October … all of that he’d bear again, if it only meant that he could see Liz one more time.
Slowly, Max sat up in bed and swung his legs over one side. He trudged into the bathroom and turned on the water for a shower. The little daily routines were turning back into habits for him. No longer did he have to force himself to wake up, to leave his bed, to bathe and groom and dress and eat. These were the things that he knew he had to do, simply because he was still alive. But he did them without conviction, without enjoyment. To be honest, he mostly did them because his parents, unsure about how to proceed with him, had mentioned the idea of seeing a therapist again, to help him get through this loss. He and other students whom the administration considered to be “close” to Liz were already being forced by policy to see a school therapist twice a week for six weeks; that was already risky enough.
The old fear of his secret being discovered had returned. After years of trying not to stick out in any way, his old instincts began to kick back in. He had to try wake up in the mornings, bathe, groom, dress, and eat, because he needed to avoid any undue attention. Not for himself, but for Michael, and Isabel, and Alex, and Maria, and Kyle, and Tess. Every outward display of grief on Max’s part could be scrutinized, examined, torn apart. He had to push it down and hide it, and act as normally as possible. Whatever “normal” meant anymore.
When he came back into his room to get dressed, his eyes fell on his backpack, sitting haphazardly in his desk chair where he’d thrown it yesterday after coming home from school. He hadn’t even opened it, hadn’t bothered to do his homework or read or study. He knew that he should, and made a mental note to make that the next thing he got “accustomed” to again. His grades had taken a severe dip after the accident, and he had to get them back up again before his teachers or parents thought that therapy might be a good idea again.
He moved methodically, robotically, his actions lacking in excitement or emotion. He dressed, took his books, and went to the kitchen for breakfast. He ate only half of a bagel with butter on it. He was unable to answer his parents’ questions about what was going on at school that day, or what projects he had at work. None of it really mattered anymore anyway, except to keep up this façade of normal for his sister and friends. The only thing he could communicate clearly and honestly was his distaste for therapy.
Soon afterwards, he and Isabel left for school. With some help from his friends and the use of his photographic memory, he managed to scribble his homework to completion in the minutes between classes and during lunch and break. When school was over, he drove to the UFO Museum while Isabel got a ride with Alex. He worked mechanically through his third shift in two weeks – Brody had insisted on his taking some time after the tragedy before returning back to his regular schedule. When it was over, Max got into the Jeep and drove straight home. He forced himself to complete his homework for only one of his classes, knowing that tomorrow he would finish the rest during the day as he’d done today. Tomorrow afternoon, he’d force himself to work on two classes, then three, and so on, until he was back into the habit of doing all his work at home, and was completely caught up again.
At the end of the day, after dining with his parents and sister and Alex, Max went back into the bathroom and washed his face and brushed his teeth. He went back into his room and pulled back the covers on his bed before climbing in. He turned off the light and hoped for a dreamless sleep to come.
Another monotonous day was over. Tomorrow would be just like it, and the next day, and the next day, and all the days after that.
All the time he could feel the tear of his soul as bloody and fresh as it had been the morning that his world had changed forever. All the time he could feel the missing half of his heart as surely as an amputee misses his limb. All the time he could sense that the air in his lungs was the only difference between him and his lady love lying beneath the ground outside of town, for he knew he was just as dead on the inside as she was.
~*~*~
Her dreams were usually filled with a mixture of fear and apprehension. She was afraid of the people around her, though she couldn’t remember who they were. She was afraid of what would happen if she got too close to anyone because of her secret. In her dreams she knew her secret, knew that she had to keep it safe and protect it; knew that she had to flee.
Those dreams were fraught with anxiety, but there were a few precious nights where she dreamt another dream, a dream of strong arms and a kind face and a deep voice that made her feel as if she was the most cherished woman in the world.
But, as with all her dreams, she always woke up. The persistent beep of the cheap alarm clock on the bedside table jerked her rudely back into reality, where the smells of morning breakfast were already seeping from the café downstairs.
Anna woke up to the start of another day.
~*~*~
A few minutes before seven o’clock, Anna tied her hair into a ponytail and pulled it only half way through the band so that it hung loosely from the back of her head. Her head spun slightly as she stood up from the bed, and she made a mental note to take a couple of ibuprofen from the downstairs supply that was there for employees. Quietly she snuck through the living room, where two staff members from the late shifts were sleeping, one on the couch, one on the floor. Mabel had warned her that she let the staff use the apartment, and while Anna had become a permanent resident, she generally had to share the space with one or two of her co-workers who finished working late and were either too tired to make it home right away, or didn’t consider it safe to try.
All things considered, she was doing pretty well for herself. Waitressing at the restaurant was going well, and since Anna lived only upstairs, she was almost permanently on call. It ended up that she was working almost constantly. Since she got all of her meals while she was working, she’d spent almost nothing on groceries. Mabel owned the small two-storey building, so the utility bills for the apartment were coupled with the restaurant, and Mabel covered both. Anna had picked up a few clothes from one of the local shelters, and as long as she could stay the same size, there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to make them last a while (which was why she was a little worried when she noticed she was gaining weight – she’d have to watch what she was eating a little more.) When Anna wasn’t working, she was too exhausted at the end of each day to go out or do anything more taxing than laundry, so she was able to save most of the money she’d earned thus far. The only thing she’d really spent money on in the last month had been a comfortable pair of shoes. Mabel had fronted her the money, and Anna had paid it back within five days of tips.
The only down side was she still didn’t have any idea of who she really was or where she’d come from. She’d watched the news every night downstairs in the diner as she ate the dinners that Thom made for her. There were no reports of a woman of her description gone missing, no missing children reports, nothing at all. If she’d come from anywhere in particular, it would seem that she wasn’t missed.
To be honest, it bothered her a little bit, especially those nights when her dreams were more pleasant. She could feel that she’d come from a place where she’d been loved, and loved in return; could feel it clear as day. But when she woke up, the feelings faded into cobwebs that were briskly swept away with the day’s work.
“Morning, all,” she greeted the morning cooks. Andy and Duke turned for a second and said, “Hey, Anna.” Thom caught her eye just for a moment and grunted his hello.
The door from the Mabel was sitting on her stool just past the door that led from the kitchen to the dining area. “Mornin’, honey,” she said.
“Morning,” Anna said in return. She felt Mabel’s eyes on her as she washed her hands. She and Mabel had talked a lot in the last few weeks, and they’d spent a lot of time together, but Anna made sure to keep the topics of conversation light and inconsequential. She didn’t discuss anything too personal about herself; partly because her instincts warned her not to reveal too much, and partly because she couldn’t remember anything anyway. Anna knew that Mabel was sure she was faking the memory loss, but as long as Mabel respected the privacy Anna guarded so closely, and didn’t insist on asking too many questions, Anna was willing to deal with a small amount of suspicion.
Mabel, on the other hand, talked at length about her family and personal life. She told stories about her son, Dylan, who had all but grown up in the diner. She told stories about growing up in Georgia with her family; six sisters, no brothers. Her sisters were now living all over the place; one was in Chicago, one in Detroit, one in Rochester, one in St. Louis, one in Miami, and one outside of Cincinnati. All of them were married or widowed with at least four kids, and most of them were grandparents. Mabel was the only one who’d gotten a divorce from her ex and raised only one child, a son who was over 30, single, childless, and a photographer. “I’m the black sheep of my family,” she said with a smile.
Quickly Anna popped two of the ibuprofen pills from the staff first aid kit and swallowed with a glass of water. Armed against her headache, she grabbed a pen and order book from the stash and got to work.
The first hour was relatively uneventful; Thom, Andy and Duke cooked the food without incident, Anna and the other three waitresses, Cynthia, Judy and Amanda, served their customers as well as they could. But Anna’s headache didn’t go away. As the second hour began to wear away, she developed a back ache as well.
Mabel, who kept a shrewd eye over the establishment from her perch on her stool, called Anna over around nine o’clock. “Honey, you wanna take a break?”
Not wanting to seem like a bad investment (it was, after all, only a few weeks since she’d started), Anna said, “No, I’m okay. I can take my break at eleven.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, honey, just let me know.”
“’Kay,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Anna was cleaning up a table that had just vacated. As she leaned over to pocket the $7 tip, her head and neck felt tingly and tight. She shrugged it off, but decided that when she was done cleaning this table she’d take Mabel up on her offer of an early break after all.
While loading the plates and silverware on top of each other, a fork slipped from her hands onto the floor. Anna bent down to get it when the tightness in her head become stronger, gripping her like a fist. She barely had time to wonder what was happening to her before her world went dark.
~*~*~
She didn’t know what had happened, but she realized suddenly and fearfully that she was breathing long and hard, in deep, noisy breaths, while her hands gripped the couch cushions. She didn’t know how she’d gotten into the staff room, since the last thing she’d known was that she was in the dining room cleaning up. Cynthia, Judy, Amanda, Mabel and Thom stood over her. Only Thom was silent, as ever; only Mabel was authoritative. The other three were talking over each other nervously and with a trace of fright in their voices.
“Should we get her some water?”
“Should I get a wet rag?”
“Is she all right?”
“Breathe, honey. You’re fine now. Just breathe. In and out, in and out.”
“Oh God, what if there’s something in the food? Or in the water?”
“What if she’s contagious?”
“Will y’all shut up?! She just fainted. She’s fine.”
“I fainted?” Anna managed to squeak out.
“It’s no big deal, honey. Happens a lot, more often than you’d think. You’re fine.”
Cynthia sat down next to her and offered her a glass of cold water. “Do you faint often?” she asked.
Anna met Mabel’s eyes over the top of the glass. “I don’t know.”
Mabel took a deep breath and said with all the authority and tactical planning of a military leader, “Okay, that’s enough o’ that. Cynthia, Amanda, Judy, that’s a big dining room we got there. Surely somebody needs something.”
Mabel was the type of woman who could have directed a small country of soldiers so thoroughly and precisely that even the buttons on their jackets would have been shined to the same silver hue. As it was, the three waitresses wasted not a second in getting back onto their feet and out of her way.
“Thom, Anna is taking the rest of the day off. I trust you can manage.”
Even Thom, who had been with Mabel longer than any other employee and was practically family to her, knew when to just not his head and say, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, honey,” Mabel turned her head to Anna, “you’re taking the rest of the afternoon off. That’s an order,” she added when Anna tried to object. “You need to take a few long, deep breaths now. In,” Mabel directed, “out. In, out. That’s it. A few more. Good girl. You doing okay?” Anna nodded. “Feelin’ dizzy at all?” She shook her head no. “Keep breathin’ now. Now listen, you stay here till you feel strong enough to get back upstairs, then you tell Thom and he’ll help you get upstairs. You get up there and take a nap. You’ve been working yo’self too hard. I’ll come upstairs and talk to you later on.”
Anna knew better than to try to argue again. “Okay.”
Mabel nodded. “Take your time.” Then she got up and walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind her, leaving Anna alone.
Anna took a few minutes to let the dizziness she still felt dissipate. When she felt confident, she stood up. When she felt even more confident, she took some cautious steps forward; when Thom came in to check on her and tried to help, she told him that she was fine. She was determined, absolutely resolved, to walk up the stairs and back up to the apartment on her own. Thom stood in the doorway and watched her as she reached her arms out in front of her all the way in case she fell again. Anna opened the door and managed to walk through it, feeling just a little bit stronger with every step. Smiling weakly at the cooks, she crossed the kitchen and made her way to the stairs, happy for the railing to grasp. Nothing had ever been so exhausting … at least, not in what she could remember. Her head felt fuzzy and thick, as if it was stuffed with cotton balls.
She opened the door to the apartment carefully, trying not to make any noise in case she woke up the cook and waitress crashing in the living room. Luckily, they were both awake; one brushing his teeth in the bathroom, the other folding up the blankets and pillows back onto the couch. After explaining her situation as briefly as possible and staying long enough only to assure them both that she was fine, she got back into the bedroom and could have sung hymns of praise and thanks when she was finally able to lower herself onto the bed.
She was asleep almost at once.
~*~*~
Sunlight came in through the window and made little diagonal lines across her eyes, causing her to squint and change position.
“Better wake up, honey, there’s a lot of things we gotta do.”
Mabel’s voice penetrated the darkness like a warm blanket, encouraging Anna to open her eyes, though she held up one hand to protect her from the sun’s harsh rays.
“A lot to do?” she repeated.
“That’s right. You gotta see a doctor, honey, that’s the first thing. Why ain’t you been taking care of yo’self? You got more than yo’self to look after now, you know.”
“I do?”
“Course you do,” she said. “You cain’t just think that baby’s gonna pop out and you don’t gotta do nothing.”
“Baby?”
“Baby. You’re in a family way, honey.”
“Family way?”
“Pregnant,” Mabel clarified. “Didn’t you know?”
“Pregnant?” Anna said again, her eyes wide.
“Sure, honey. You didn’t notice,” Mabel guessed by the way Anna kept repeating everything. “But I noticed. I noticed you getting a little sick when Thom was working with the raw chicken a couple weeks back. And you been getting’ just a little rounder in your tummy. You in a family way, chil’. Trus’ me on this, I know. I done helped my sisters have three of their babies befo’ I had mine. Couple of my cousins, too. I know the signs better’n most.”
“But … I don’t know how … or who …”
“Too late for that now, honey. Don’t you worry. You gonna spend the afternoon with me, and we’ll take care of it.”
“W-we will?”
“You bet we will. Now get up and take a shower and get dressed. We’ll leave in an hour.” With that Mabel stood up and waddled out of the room.
Anna stood and went into the ensuite bathroom, peeling her clothes off along the way. Her mind echoed with what Mabel had told her. She was pregnant? But, how? It had to have happened before she’s woken up in the street the other day; but what did that mean? Was she married? She didn’t feel old enough to be married. Had she been one of those girls on the street, like she’d seen before she accidentally found her way to Mabel’s? If so, maybe it was better if she didn’t remember anything, and if she didn’t work too hard to try to find out where she’d come from.
But now what? She was practically dead on her feet just looking out for herself; how was she supposed to look after a baby? How would she earn money?
Oh, and she’d need so many things for a baby. Blankets. Clothes. Diapers. A crib. A stroller. Some sort of mobile or something to help the baby fall asleep.
And where was she going to live? She couldn’t have a crying baby here in Mabel’s apartment, especially when there were customers in the diner or other workers needed to catch a few hours of sleep. How was she going to get a place to live when she didn’t have any kind of identification?
Anna’s head was spinning again, and she forced herself to quiet the questions in her mind just long enough for her to finish her shower. She wouldn’t be able to solve all these problems on her own, she knew. She needed to have some help.
~*~*~
“Don’t you worry, honey,” Mabel told her after Anna had unburdened her worries onto that matron’s broad shoulders. “We’ll take care of all that. First things first, though. We gonna go see a friend of mine.”
“Who’s that?” Anna asked.
“Father Tony.”
Father Tony, it turned out, was a Roman Catholic priest who operated a shelter for runaways in downtown L.A. He was tall and thin with a round face and a pleasant northern Italian color. His light brown eyes shone with a wisdom of how cruel the world could be, but smile lines around his mouth that showed he took the greatest possible joy out of his victories.
He and Mabel greeted each other like old friends, hugging each other tightly, and when Mabel turned to introduce him to Anna, he hugged her as well. Anna, who wasn’t very comfortable with physical contact thus far, tried to return the hug as far as she was comfortable with, without being rude. Father Tony seemed to understand, and released her, smiling down at her before leading her and Mabel into his office so they could talk.
When he opened the door, two teens, a Hispanic boy and a black girl, were sitting on the floor reading books. Father Tony didn’t seem surprised nor angry to see them there; instead, he said gently, “Cesar, Miranda, would you mind taking your books into the common room? I need my office for a little while.”
“Sure, Father,” they said politely, and stood up to exit the room, smiling at them as they passed. Father Tony closed the door behind them.
Anna looked around. Father Tony’s office was decorated warmly, with bookshelves lining the walls, overflowing with books, stacked two-deep and piled on top of each other. There were books on science, on religion, on philosophy, on history, on mathematics; there were biographies, travel books, novels, plays, several copies of the Bible, and an English translation of the Qu’ran. Obviously he was a well-read, intelligent man, and one who encouraged those traits in the young people he counseled. A cheap wooden chair sat behind a cheap wooden desk that held a paper calendar, on which Anna could see numerous notes written for that week. There was no sign of a computer. A crucifix hung on the wall behind the desk; a framed poster of Da Vinci’s pencil sketching of the Madonna and Child hung above the window on the side wall. Two uncomfortable-looking chairs faced the desk. Anna thawed a little to Father Tony right away; whatever else he might be, he did appear to be the real thing.
“So, Mabel,” Father Tony asked as he invited the two ladies to sit, “what can I do for you today?”
“Father,” Mabel said as she primly took one of the chairs facing him, straightening out her best Sunday dress as she sat, “this is the young woman I spoke to you about. We found out she’s gonna have a baby. She needs to be able to take care of herself and her baby, Father. I was hoping you would help us.”
“She doesn’t remember anything?”
“No, Father,” Mabel replied devoutly.
Father Tony looked over Anna, sitting in the chair, hands folded in her lap, practically drowning in the oversized clothes she was wearing. “Mabel, will you excuse Anna and me for a minute?”
Mabel didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Father,” she said, and walked out of the room.
Anna couldn’t hide her nervousness at being alone with a stranger, and Father Tony had to laugh a little. “It’s all right, Anna. There’s nothing wrong. I just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?” Anna nodded. “It must be very frightening to not be able to remember anything.” Again, Anna only nodded. “And then to find out you’re pregnant, too… you must be very confused right now.”
Anna nodded once more, and then said slowly, “I had so many questions going through my head when Mabel said I might be pregnant, I couldn’t keep them straight.”
“You don’t think you are pregnant, then?”
“I … I just don’t know. Mabel says she knows.”
“You haven’t noticed anything?”
“I got sick from some raw chicken in the kitchen a few weeks ago. And I fainted this morning. Other than that, I …”
“It’s okay, Anna.”
“It’s embarrassing … I don’t really know what I should have been looking for. I don’t know what the signs are.”
“Anna, what do you remember from before you met Mabel?”
Anna shook her head, “Nothing. I just, just woke up in the street. It’s all kind of a blur.”
“When you woke up, were you hurt at all?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you feel? What do your instincts tell you?”
Liz looked down at the floor and concentrated. “I guess … that maybe I had been hurt? But not really seriously. And I don’t … I don’t think that, if I’m pregnant, that it was because of that.”
Father Tony smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Anna. Most young women who find themselves in situations like yours would let their fear take over.” His face became serious as he breathed in deeply. “Anna, I want you to know that I’ve counseled a lot of young people with very serious problems over the years. I understand if you don’t want to get too close to Mabel or Thom or the others at the diner, and that’s okay. But I want you to know that if you ever do want to talk to someone, confidentially of course, that my door is always open. Okay?”
Anna nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
Father Tony smiled. “Why don’t you go and ask Mabel to join us again.” Anna did, and Mabel came back into the room, smiling, knowing already that he would help.
“Well,” Tony said, “I assume for legality’s sake that you’re 18. Is that okay with everyone here?” Mabel and Anna nodded. “Okay then. Last name?”
Anna looked at Mabel and shrugged, indicating that she didn’t have any idea. “What do you think of Marquez?” Mabel asked. “I knew a girl named Anna Marquez once. You remind me of her, chil’. That’s who I was thinking of when I said I was gonna call you Anna.”
Anna smiled, and Father Tony saw it. “Anna Marquez it is. What do you want your birthday to be?”
“Um,” she thought for a moment, “what day did you find me?”
Mabel smiled. “January eleventh.”
Anna turned back to Father Tony. “January eleventh, please.”
“Anna Marquez, date of birth, January eleventh, 1983. Got it. I’ll talk to my contacts and see what I can do.”
Mabel stood. “Thank you, Father.”
He smiled. “No problem, Mabel. It was nice to meet you, Anna.”
“You, too,” she said quietly. Then she and Mabel left Father Tony’s office. After he had closed the door behind her, Anna turned and looked at the name on the door.
Anthony Valenti, SJ
~*~*~
Max sat with his back against the wall, facing the soccer fields. He stared at his toes and pretended to nibble at the sandwich his mom had packed for him. He wasn’t really hungry, though. A few bites was more than enough for him.
He heard footsteps coming from the side of the building, and recognized from their sound and tread that it was Michael coming. Michael was one of the only people he could stand these days; he didn’t try to mother him, or make him talk, or offer comfort. He was just there. Sometimes that was what Max needed more than anything else.
Without any greeting or inquiries of how he was feeling, Michael sat down next to Max and opened his own lunch bag. Max couldn’t help looking over at what Michael pulled out. There was what looked like a ham sandwich, a Twix bar, a snack-size can of Pringles, two tamales, a bag of celery sticks and baby carrots and a bottle of Snapple. Michael didn’t look up as he reached for one of the tamales and handed it to Max, who took it without skipping a beat. The beef inside was cooked with lemon and hot sauce. Max hadn’t tasted anything so good in a long time.
“Maria made your lunch today,” Max noticed.
“She showed up this morning with the bag and some line I’m supposed to feed you about … butterflies and … losing stuff and having it come back again, I don’t know.”
“What time was this?”
“Six-thirty.”
“You didn’t kick her out?”
Michael shrugged. “Bike’s back in the shop. I needed a ride to school.”
Max snorted. “You’re a bad-ass, Michael. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
“Well, look at that. The man made a joke.”
“When something’s funny.”
“Shut up and eat your tamale.”
Max chuckled and obeyed. He was half way through chewing his first bite when he realized what had happened. He’d had his first smile since Liz had died. One moment where he hadn’t thought about how much it hurt, how much he missed her. One whole moment where he was without her, and had forgotten about her.
He hated himself for it.
~*~*~
TBC
Spray
Lurkers
Behralicious87
Alien_Friend (x5)
Spray
Cassie
Synera (x2)
Natalie36
Rowedog
Thetvgeneral (x2) - How's my little baby? I miss my baby ...
uw51 (x2) - yeah, I think most other people hate Tess, too.
Orangesky (x2) - Welcome to the show, Captain Obvious.
Max and liz believer - please see the note to Chula above.
Alien614
Cereth - Um, sorry?
Cocogurl (x3)
Raemac
Carter13
Dreamerfrvrp3
Katydid (x3)
Zanssoulmate (x5)
RiceKrispy (x2)
Behrluv32
Dreamsatnight (x2)
Razz214
Raychelxlicious (x2)
Spray
DreamerMaxBehrian
And last, but not least, Spray.
Guys, I want to apologize. I meant to get this part to you guys so much earlier. I had a ton of personal stuff - I stopped working at my part-time job, I had a death in the family, and I had a brief ER stay. Please forgive me, guys.
Here you go.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-five – Be With Me Tonight - II
I go to school, I write exams
And if I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
Does anyone really give a damn?
And if they do, they’ll soon forget
‘Cause it won’t take much for me to show
My life ain’t over yet.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange,
I wake up wondering if anything in my life
Is ever gonna change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange,
And everything around me stays the same.
This name is the hair shirt I wear
And this hair shirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
Bear it with me, bear it with me, bear it with me.
Be with me tonight,
I know it isn’t right,
But be with me tonight.
What a Good Boy
Barenaked Ladies
Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee.
-Author unknown
Four Weeks Later
Max lifted a heavy arm to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. He was getting accustomed to the dread that accompanied each new day. There was no joy in his life anymore, no bright spots on his horizon. The months of living after Liz had run away from him, her summer in Florida, the awkward weeks that followed her return, the devastation he’d felt seeing her with Kyle that night in October … all of that he’d bear again, if it only meant that he could see Liz one more time.
Slowly, Max sat up in bed and swung his legs over one side. He trudged into the bathroom and turned on the water for a shower. The little daily routines were turning back into habits for him. No longer did he have to force himself to wake up, to leave his bed, to bathe and groom and dress and eat. These were the things that he knew he had to do, simply because he was still alive. But he did them without conviction, without enjoyment. To be honest, he mostly did them because his parents, unsure about how to proceed with him, had mentioned the idea of seeing a therapist again, to help him get through this loss. He and other students whom the administration considered to be “close” to Liz were already being forced by policy to see a school therapist twice a week for six weeks; that was already risky enough.
The old fear of his secret being discovered had returned. After years of trying not to stick out in any way, his old instincts began to kick back in. He had to try wake up in the mornings, bathe, groom, dress, and eat, because he needed to avoid any undue attention. Not for himself, but for Michael, and Isabel, and Alex, and Maria, and Kyle, and Tess. Every outward display of grief on Max’s part could be scrutinized, examined, torn apart. He had to push it down and hide it, and act as normally as possible. Whatever “normal” meant anymore.
When he came back into his room to get dressed, his eyes fell on his backpack, sitting haphazardly in his desk chair where he’d thrown it yesterday after coming home from school. He hadn’t even opened it, hadn’t bothered to do his homework or read or study. He knew that he should, and made a mental note to make that the next thing he got “accustomed” to again. His grades had taken a severe dip after the accident, and he had to get them back up again before his teachers or parents thought that therapy might be a good idea again.
He moved methodically, robotically, his actions lacking in excitement or emotion. He dressed, took his books, and went to the kitchen for breakfast. He ate only half of a bagel with butter on it. He was unable to answer his parents’ questions about what was going on at school that day, or what projects he had at work. None of it really mattered anymore anyway, except to keep up this façade of normal for his sister and friends. The only thing he could communicate clearly and honestly was his distaste for therapy.
Soon afterwards, he and Isabel left for school. With some help from his friends and the use of his photographic memory, he managed to scribble his homework to completion in the minutes between classes and during lunch and break. When school was over, he drove to the UFO Museum while Isabel got a ride with Alex. He worked mechanically through his third shift in two weeks – Brody had insisted on his taking some time after the tragedy before returning back to his regular schedule. When it was over, Max got into the Jeep and drove straight home. He forced himself to complete his homework for only one of his classes, knowing that tomorrow he would finish the rest during the day as he’d done today. Tomorrow afternoon, he’d force himself to work on two classes, then three, and so on, until he was back into the habit of doing all his work at home, and was completely caught up again.
At the end of the day, after dining with his parents and sister and Alex, Max went back into the bathroom and washed his face and brushed his teeth. He went back into his room and pulled back the covers on his bed before climbing in. He turned off the light and hoped for a dreamless sleep to come.
Another monotonous day was over. Tomorrow would be just like it, and the next day, and the next day, and all the days after that.
All the time he could feel the tear of his soul as bloody and fresh as it had been the morning that his world had changed forever. All the time he could feel the missing half of his heart as surely as an amputee misses his limb. All the time he could sense that the air in his lungs was the only difference between him and his lady love lying beneath the ground outside of town, for he knew he was just as dead on the inside as she was.
~*~*~
Her dreams were usually filled with a mixture of fear and apprehension. She was afraid of the people around her, though she couldn’t remember who they were. She was afraid of what would happen if she got too close to anyone because of her secret. In her dreams she knew her secret, knew that she had to keep it safe and protect it; knew that she had to flee.
Those dreams were fraught with anxiety, but there were a few precious nights where she dreamt another dream, a dream of strong arms and a kind face and a deep voice that made her feel as if she was the most cherished woman in the world.
But, as with all her dreams, she always woke up. The persistent beep of the cheap alarm clock on the bedside table jerked her rudely back into reality, where the smells of morning breakfast were already seeping from the café downstairs.
Anna woke up to the start of another day.
~*~*~
A few minutes before seven o’clock, Anna tied her hair into a ponytail and pulled it only half way through the band so that it hung loosely from the back of her head. Her head spun slightly as she stood up from the bed, and she made a mental note to take a couple of ibuprofen from the downstairs supply that was there for employees. Quietly she snuck through the living room, where two staff members from the late shifts were sleeping, one on the couch, one on the floor. Mabel had warned her that she let the staff use the apartment, and while Anna had become a permanent resident, she generally had to share the space with one or two of her co-workers who finished working late and were either too tired to make it home right away, or didn’t consider it safe to try.
All things considered, she was doing pretty well for herself. Waitressing at the restaurant was going well, and since Anna lived only upstairs, she was almost permanently on call. It ended up that she was working almost constantly. Since she got all of her meals while she was working, she’d spent almost nothing on groceries. Mabel owned the small two-storey building, so the utility bills for the apartment were coupled with the restaurant, and Mabel covered both. Anna had picked up a few clothes from one of the local shelters, and as long as she could stay the same size, there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to make them last a while (which was why she was a little worried when she noticed she was gaining weight – she’d have to watch what she was eating a little more.) When Anna wasn’t working, she was too exhausted at the end of each day to go out or do anything more taxing than laundry, so she was able to save most of the money she’d earned thus far. The only thing she’d really spent money on in the last month had been a comfortable pair of shoes. Mabel had fronted her the money, and Anna had paid it back within five days of tips.
The only down side was she still didn’t have any idea of who she really was or where she’d come from. She’d watched the news every night downstairs in the diner as she ate the dinners that Thom made for her. There were no reports of a woman of her description gone missing, no missing children reports, nothing at all. If she’d come from anywhere in particular, it would seem that she wasn’t missed.
To be honest, it bothered her a little bit, especially those nights when her dreams were more pleasant. She could feel that she’d come from a place where she’d been loved, and loved in return; could feel it clear as day. But when she woke up, the feelings faded into cobwebs that were briskly swept away with the day’s work.
“Morning, all,” she greeted the morning cooks. Andy and Duke turned for a second and said, “Hey, Anna.” Thom caught her eye just for a moment and grunted his hello.
The door from the Mabel was sitting on her stool just past the door that led from the kitchen to the dining area. “Mornin’, honey,” she said.
“Morning,” Anna said in return. She felt Mabel’s eyes on her as she washed her hands. She and Mabel had talked a lot in the last few weeks, and they’d spent a lot of time together, but Anna made sure to keep the topics of conversation light and inconsequential. She didn’t discuss anything too personal about herself; partly because her instincts warned her not to reveal too much, and partly because she couldn’t remember anything anyway. Anna knew that Mabel was sure she was faking the memory loss, but as long as Mabel respected the privacy Anna guarded so closely, and didn’t insist on asking too many questions, Anna was willing to deal with a small amount of suspicion.
Mabel, on the other hand, talked at length about her family and personal life. She told stories about her son, Dylan, who had all but grown up in the diner. She told stories about growing up in Georgia with her family; six sisters, no brothers. Her sisters were now living all over the place; one was in Chicago, one in Detroit, one in Rochester, one in St. Louis, one in Miami, and one outside of Cincinnati. All of them were married or widowed with at least four kids, and most of them were grandparents. Mabel was the only one who’d gotten a divorce from her ex and raised only one child, a son who was over 30, single, childless, and a photographer. “I’m the black sheep of my family,” she said with a smile.
Quickly Anna popped two of the ibuprofen pills from the staff first aid kit and swallowed with a glass of water. Armed against her headache, she grabbed a pen and order book from the stash and got to work.
The first hour was relatively uneventful; Thom, Andy and Duke cooked the food without incident, Anna and the other three waitresses, Cynthia, Judy and Amanda, served their customers as well as they could. But Anna’s headache didn’t go away. As the second hour began to wear away, she developed a back ache as well.
Mabel, who kept a shrewd eye over the establishment from her perch on her stool, called Anna over around nine o’clock. “Honey, you wanna take a break?”
Not wanting to seem like a bad investment (it was, after all, only a few weeks since she’d started), Anna said, “No, I’m okay. I can take my break at eleven.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, honey, just let me know.”
“’Kay,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Anna was cleaning up a table that had just vacated. As she leaned over to pocket the $7 tip, her head and neck felt tingly and tight. She shrugged it off, but decided that when she was done cleaning this table she’d take Mabel up on her offer of an early break after all.
While loading the plates and silverware on top of each other, a fork slipped from her hands onto the floor. Anna bent down to get it when the tightness in her head become stronger, gripping her like a fist. She barely had time to wonder what was happening to her before her world went dark.
~*~*~
She didn’t know what had happened, but she realized suddenly and fearfully that she was breathing long and hard, in deep, noisy breaths, while her hands gripped the couch cushions. She didn’t know how she’d gotten into the staff room, since the last thing she’d known was that she was in the dining room cleaning up. Cynthia, Judy, Amanda, Mabel and Thom stood over her. Only Thom was silent, as ever; only Mabel was authoritative. The other three were talking over each other nervously and with a trace of fright in their voices.
“Should we get her some water?”
“Should I get a wet rag?”
“Is she all right?”
“Breathe, honey. You’re fine now. Just breathe. In and out, in and out.”
“Oh God, what if there’s something in the food? Or in the water?”
“What if she’s contagious?”
“Will y’all shut up?! She just fainted. She’s fine.”
“I fainted?” Anna managed to squeak out.
“It’s no big deal, honey. Happens a lot, more often than you’d think. You’re fine.”
Cynthia sat down next to her and offered her a glass of cold water. “Do you faint often?” she asked.
Anna met Mabel’s eyes over the top of the glass. “I don’t know.”
Mabel took a deep breath and said with all the authority and tactical planning of a military leader, “Okay, that’s enough o’ that. Cynthia, Amanda, Judy, that’s a big dining room we got there. Surely somebody needs something.”
Mabel was the type of woman who could have directed a small country of soldiers so thoroughly and precisely that even the buttons on their jackets would have been shined to the same silver hue. As it was, the three waitresses wasted not a second in getting back onto their feet and out of her way.
“Thom, Anna is taking the rest of the day off. I trust you can manage.”
Even Thom, who had been with Mabel longer than any other employee and was practically family to her, knew when to just not his head and say, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, honey,” Mabel turned her head to Anna, “you’re taking the rest of the afternoon off. That’s an order,” she added when Anna tried to object. “You need to take a few long, deep breaths now. In,” Mabel directed, “out. In, out. That’s it. A few more. Good girl. You doing okay?” Anna nodded. “Feelin’ dizzy at all?” She shook her head no. “Keep breathin’ now. Now listen, you stay here till you feel strong enough to get back upstairs, then you tell Thom and he’ll help you get upstairs. You get up there and take a nap. You’ve been working yo’self too hard. I’ll come upstairs and talk to you later on.”
Anna knew better than to try to argue again. “Okay.”
Mabel nodded. “Take your time.” Then she got up and walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind her, leaving Anna alone.
Anna took a few minutes to let the dizziness she still felt dissipate. When she felt confident, she stood up. When she felt even more confident, she took some cautious steps forward; when Thom came in to check on her and tried to help, she told him that she was fine. She was determined, absolutely resolved, to walk up the stairs and back up to the apartment on her own. Thom stood in the doorway and watched her as she reached her arms out in front of her all the way in case she fell again. Anna opened the door and managed to walk through it, feeling just a little bit stronger with every step. Smiling weakly at the cooks, she crossed the kitchen and made her way to the stairs, happy for the railing to grasp. Nothing had ever been so exhausting … at least, not in what she could remember. Her head felt fuzzy and thick, as if it was stuffed with cotton balls.
She opened the door to the apartment carefully, trying not to make any noise in case she woke up the cook and waitress crashing in the living room. Luckily, they were both awake; one brushing his teeth in the bathroom, the other folding up the blankets and pillows back onto the couch. After explaining her situation as briefly as possible and staying long enough only to assure them both that she was fine, she got back into the bedroom and could have sung hymns of praise and thanks when she was finally able to lower herself onto the bed.
She was asleep almost at once.
~*~*~
Sunlight came in through the window and made little diagonal lines across her eyes, causing her to squint and change position.
“Better wake up, honey, there’s a lot of things we gotta do.”
Mabel’s voice penetrated the darkness like a warm blanket, encouraging Anna to open her eyes, though she held up one hand to protect her from the sun’s harsh rays.
“A lot to do?” she repeated.
“That’s right. You gotta see a doctor, honey, that’s the first thing. Why ain’t you been taking care of yo’self? You got more than yo’self to look after now, you know.”
“I do?”
“Course you do,” she said. “You cain’t just think that baby’s gonna pop out and you don’t gotta do nothing.”
“Baby?”
“Baby. You’re in a family way, honey.”
“Family way?”
“Pregnant,” Mabel clarified. “Didn’t you know?”
“Pregnant?” Anna said again, her eyes wide.
“Sure, honey. You didn’t notice,” Mabel guessed by the way Anna kept repeating everything. “But I noticed. I noticed you getting a little sick when Thom was working with the raw chicken a couple weeks back. And you been getting’ just a little rounder in your tummy. You in a family way, chil’. Trus’ me on this, I know. I done helped my sisters have three of their babies befo’ I had mine. Couple of my cousins, too. I know the signs better’n most.”
“But … I don’t know how … or who …”
“Too late for that now, honey. Don’t you worry. You gonna spend the afternoon with me, and we’ll take care of it.”
“W-we will?”
“You bet we will. Now get up and take a shower and get dressed. We’ll leave in an hour.” With that Mabel stood up and waddled out of the room.
Anna stood and went into the ensuite bathroom, peeling her clothes off along the way. Her mind echoed with what Mabel had told her. She was pregnant? But, how? It had to have happened before she’s woken up in the street the other day; but what did that mean? Was she married? She didn’t feel old enough to be married. Had she been one of those girls on the street, like she’d seen before she accidentally found her way to Mabel’s? If so, maybe it was better if she didn’t remember anything, and if she didn’t work too hard to try to find out where she’d come from.
But now what? She was practically dead on her feet just looking out for herself; how was she supposed to look after a baby? How would she earn money?
Oh, and she’d need so many things for a baby. Blankets. Clothes. Diapers. A crib. A stroller. Some sort of mobile or something to help the baby fall asleep.
And where was she going to live? She couldn’t have a crying baby here in Mabel’s apartment, especially when there were customers in the diner or other workers needed to catch a few hours of sleep. How was she going to get a place to live when she didn’t have any kind of identification?
Anna’s head was spinning again, and she forced herself to quiet the questions in her mind just long enough for her to finish her shower. She wouldn’t be able to solve all these problems on her own, she knew. She needed to have some help.
~*~*~
“Don’t you worry, honey,” Mabel told her after Anna had unburdened her worries onto that matron’s broad shoulders. “We’ll take care of all that. First things first, though. We gonna go see a friend of mine.”
“Who’s that?” Anna asked.
“Father Tony.”
Father Tony, it turned out, was a Roman Catholic priest who operated a shelter for runaways in downtown L.A. He was tall and thin with a round face and a pleasant northern Italian color. His light brown eyes shone with a wisdom of how cruel the world could be, but smile lines around his mouth that showed he took the greatest possible joy out of his victories.
He and Mabel greeted each other like old friends, hugging each other tightly, and when Mabel turned to introduce him to Anna, he hugged her as well. Anna, who wasn’t very comfortable with physical contact thus far, tried to return the hug as far as she was comfortable with, without being rude. Father Tony seemed to understand, and released her, smiling down at her before leading her and Mabel into his office so they could talk.
When he opened the door, two teens, a Hispanic boy and a black girl, were sitting on the floor reading books. Father Tony didn’t seem surprised nor angry to see them there; instead, he said gently, “Cesar, Miranda, would you mind taking your books into the common room? I need my office for a little while.”
“Sure, Father,” they said politely, and stood up to exit the room, smiling at them as they passed. Father Tony closed the door behind them.
Anna looked around. Father Tony’s office was decorated warmly, with bookshelves lining the walls, overflowing with books, stacked two-deep and piled on top of each other. There were books on science, on religion, on philosophy, on history, on mathematics; there were biographies, travel books, novels, plays, several copies of the Bible, and an English translation of the Qu’ran. Obviously he was a well-read, intelligent man, and one who encouraged those traits in the young people he counseled. A cheap wooden chair sat behind a cheap wooden desk that held a paper calendar, on which Anna could see numerous notes written for that week. There was no sign of a computer. A crucifix hung on the wall behind the desk; a framed poster of Da Vinci’s pencil sketching of the Madonna and Child hung above the window on the side wall. Two uncomfortable-looking chairs faced the desk. Anna thawed a little to Father Tony right away; whatever else he might be, he did appear to be the real thing.
“So, Mabel,” Father Tony asked as he invited the two ladies to sit, “what can I do for you today?”
“Father,” Mabel said as she primly took one of the chairs facing him, straightening out her best Sunday dress as she sat, “this is the young woman I spoke to you about. We found out she’s gonna have a baby. She needs to be able to take care of herself and her baby, Father. I was hoping you would help us.”
“She doesn’t remember anything?”
“No, Father,” Mabel replied devoutly.
Father Tony looked over Anna, sitting in the chair, hands folded in her lap, practically drowning in the oversized clothes she was wearing. “Mabel, will you excuse Anna and me for a minute?”
Mabel didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Father,” she said, and walked out of the room.
Anna couldn’t hide her nervousness at being alone with a stranger, and Father Tony had to laugh a little. “It’s all right, Anna. There’s nothing wrong. I just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?” Anna nodded. “It must be very frightening to not be able to remember anything.” Again, Anna only nodded. “And then to find out you’re pregnant, too… you must be very confused right now.”
Anna nodded once more, and then said slowly, “I had so many questions going through my head when Mabel said I might be pregnant, I couldn’t keep them straight.”
“You don’t think you are pregnant, then?”
“I … I just don’t know. Mabel says she knows.”
“You haven’t noticed anything?”
“I got sick from some raw chicken in the kitchen a few weeks ago. And I fainted this morning. Other than that, I …”
“It’s okay, Anna.”
“It’s embarrassing … I don’t really know what I should have been looking for. I don’t know what the signs are.”
“Anna, what do you remember from before you met Mabel?”
Anna shook her head, “Nothing. I just, just woke up in the street. It’s all kind of a blur.”
“When you woke up, were you hurt at all?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you feel? What do your instincts tell you?”
Liz looked down at the floor and concentrated. “I guess … that maybe I had been hurt? But not really seriously. And I don’t … I don’t think that, if I’m pregnant, that it was because of that.”
Father Tony smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Anna. Most young women who find themselves in situations like yours would let their fear take over.” His face became serious as he breathed in deeply. “Anna, I want you to know that I’ve counseled a lot of young people with very serious problems over the years. I understand if you don’t want to get too close to Mabel or Thom or the others at the diner, and that’s okay. But I want you to know that if you ever do want to talk to someone, confidentially of course, that my door is always open. Okay?”
Anna nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
Father Tony smiled. “Why don’t you go and ask Mabel to join us again.” Anna did, and Mabel came back into the room, smiling, knowing already that he would help.
“Well,” Tony said, “I assume for legality’s sake that you’re 18. Is that okay with everyone here?” Mabel and Anna nodded. “Okay then. Last name?”
Anna looked at Mabel and shrugged, indicating that she didn’t have any idea. “What do you think of Marquez?” Mabel asked. “I knew a girl named Anna Marquez once. You remind me of her, chil’. That’s who I was thinking of when I said I was gonna call you Anna.”
Anna smiled, and Father Tony saw it. “Anna Marquez it is. What do you want your birthday to be?”
“Um,” she thought for a moment, “what day did you find me?”
Mabel smiled. “January eleventh.”
Anna turned back to Father Tony. “January eleventh, please.”
“Anna Marquez, date of birth, January eleventh, 1983. Got it. I’ll talk to my contacts and see what I can do.”
Mabel stood. “Thank you, Father.”
He smiled. “No problem, Mabel. It was nice to meet you, Anna.”
“You, too,” she said quietly. Then she and Mabel left Father Tony’s office. After he had closed the door behind her, Anna turned and looked at the name on the door.
Anthony Valenti, SJ
~*~*~
Max sat with his back against the wall, facing the soccer fields. He stared at his toes and pretended to nibble at the sandwich his mom had packed for him. He wasn’t really hungry, though. A few bites was more than enough for him.
He heard footsteps coming from the side of the building, and recognized from their sound and tread that it was Michael coming. Michael was one of the only people he could stand these days; he didn’t try to mother him, or make him talk, or offer comfort. He was just there. Sometimes that was what Max needed more than anything else.
Without any greeting or inquiries of how he was feeling, Michael sat down next to Max and opened his own lunch bag. Max couldn’t help looking over at what Michael pulled out. There was what looked like a ham sandwich, a Twix bar, a snack-size can of Pringles, two tamales, a bag of celery sticks and baby carrots and a bottle of Snapple. Michael didn’t look up as he reached for one of the tamales and handed it to Max, who took it without skipping a beat. The beef inside was cooked with lemon and hot sauce. Max hadn’t tasted anything so good in a long time.
“Maria made your lunch today,” Max noticed.
“She showed up this morning with the bag and some line I’m supposed to feed you about … butterflies and … losing stuff and having it come back again, I don’t know.”
“What time was this?”
“Six-thirty.”
“You didn’t kick her out?”
Michael shrugged. “Bike’s back in the shop. I needed a ride to school.”
Max snorted. “You’re a bad-ass, Michael. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
“Well, look at that. The man made a joke.”
“When something’s funny.”
“Shut up and eat your tamale.”
Max chuckled and obeyed. He was half way through chewing his first bite when he realized what had happened. He’d had his first smile since Liz had died. One moment where he hadn’t thought about how much it hurt, how much he missed her. One whole moment where he was without her, and had forgotten about her.
He hated himself for it.
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Sun Feb 10, 2008 10:30 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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LairaBehr4
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Re: The Butterfly Loss (ML Adult) Ch. 25, p.9, 18Jan08
Thanks to the following:
Synera (x3)
Alien_Friend
Cocogurl
DMB (x5) - baby, you're awesome.
Emz80m
Natalie36
Katydid (x2)
Behrluv32
Ms_BuffyAnneSummers
dreamsatnight
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thetvgeneral
maxandlizforever
RiceKrispy
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Zanssoulmate08
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Cereth (x2)
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You guys notice a name that's noticeably absent from the list above? Huh, Spray? What do you think, Spray?
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-six – A Beauty Regiment to Follow
As I travel down life's pathway,
Know not what the years may hold;
As I ponder, hopes grow fonder,
Precious memories flood my soul.
Precious father, loving mother,
Glide across the lonely years;
And old homes scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appears.
Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul.
In the stillness of the midnight,
Precious sacred scenes unfold.
-Precious Memories
Bob Dylan
Three months later – May 2001
Los Angeles, CA
The doctor told Anna that he guessed she was about twenty-two weeks pregnant. That was easy for him to say. It felt like eighty.
After managing for a while to get away with a small bump that few people noticed, in her fourth month Anna had sprouted outwards almost overnight. She now felt – and looked – like she was carrying a fifteen-pound bowling ball in her tummy. Her back hurt. Her feet hurt. Her head hurt. Oh hell, everything hurt.
And she was barely more than half way through.
It wasn’t only her personal discomfort that annoyed her, either. She also hated the way people took her obvious pregnancy as an excuse to pry into her life. She spent her days fielding endless questions about the sex, what she was doing to name it, whether she was excited, about her and the father. It was exhausting.
And then there were the hands. Everyone wanted to put their hands on her stomach! They’d always ask something like, “Can I feel the baby?” which was nice of them, but by the time they asked they were already groping her torso, so something told Anna the words were strictly rhetorical.
All in all, Anna had stopped believing that being pregnant made you weird or crazy. Instead, she was beginning to think it made everyone else weird and crazy.
One of the customers in the diner, a woman of about thirty-five or forty who came in with four kids under ten, had taken one look at Anna and expressed her deepest pity. “I’m ambivalent towards motherhood,” she’d told her.
Anna didn’t really agree with that point of view – in spite of everything, she couldn’t wait for the baby to be born. Mostly because she wanted it out of her already.
Pregnancy, though… Anna was definitely ambivalent towards pregnancy.
At least she hadn’t had any more scares. After fainting and visiting Father Tony, Anna had attended her doctor’s appointments “religiously,” as she once punned to Father Tony. Tony, Mabel and Thom took turns driving her to the appointments at the Planned Parenthood clinic. She took her prenatal vitamins, took care of herself, ate the good foods, and exercised where she could. Everything seemed to be going along just swimmingly.
Every now and then, though, she felt afraid. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of, whether it was being a mom, being a single mom, being a single mom who couldn’t even pay her own rent, being a single non-rent paying mom who didn’t even know how old she was, or whether it was something else completely. Something that came from her life before. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t ever, let that fear overcome her. The same drive in her that made her get up from where she was laying in that alley always, always forced her to suppress her fears, push it down deep inside her, and focus instead on the tasks ahead. Her child, her baby, was so much more important than anything else. She needed to do everything she could to make sure the baby was healthy. And happy. And safe.
Which led to her to her present conundrum. In an effort to earn some money for herself and her baby, to buy things like maternity clothes, bottles, clothes, blankets, a crib, a stroller, a hanging mobile, and baby monitors, Anna quickly discovered that working for tips on her current schedule was simply not going to get her there.
So she was taking on extra shifts anywhere she could. And Mabel had noticed. “You gonna wear yo’self out like that, honey,” she’d told her last week when Anna had been working the late night shift, eight at night till four in the morning.
“I gotta do something,” she’d responded with a shrug. Mabel had let it drop then, but as she sat on her perch now, watching Anna clean up the lunch dishes from a group of kids who couldn’t be too much younger than her, Anna had the distinct feeling that Mabel was about to hassle her again soon.
As it turned out, Anna was only half right. During her break, Mabel wobbled over to her as she poured herself a glass of milk. “Why you workin’ so hard, honey?”
Again Anna told her, “I have to do something, Mabel. You’ve been so kind to me, but I can’t depend on your charity forever. I have to find some way to earn a little money to save.”
“That’s what’s gotcha so worried?”
Anna smiled. “In a nutshell.”
~*~*~
A few days later, Anna was carrying a tub of dirty dishes from the dining room to the kitchens. And Mabel caught her red-handed.
“Lord, honey, gimme those! Jaysus, you think you kin go around carryin’ heavy loads like that?” She grabbed the dishes away and took them to the sink. Anna followed.
“Mabel, come on. They’re not that heavy.”
“You help me rinse these an’ put ‘em through the washer and we’ll call it even.” Anna conceded with a smile and a thank you. They worked in silence for a while loading up the sanitizer. As Mabel slid the tray of dishes into the square box and closed the door for it to run, she said, “I think I got a way for ya to earn some extra cash, honey, if that’s whatcha want.”
“You do?” Anna asked.
“Mm-hmm. Don’t take no heavy lifting, neither.”
“Here at the diner?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Working with my son.” Mabel didn’t meet her eyes as she spoke.
“Your son? I thought he was a photographer.”
“He is.”
“Mabel, there must be plenty of people who would want to work under a photographer. People with a lot more experience and interest in that sort of thing than me. What does he want or need me for?”
“You wouldn’t be workin’ under him, honey.”
Anna’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m confused.”
“He’s lookin’ for a model.”
“A model?” Anna laughed, “Mabel, I look like a pig.”
“You do not, honey,” scoffed Mabel.
“I do, too. This is L.A. Everyone and her sister wants to be a model. And they usually like ‘em to be about ten inches taller and four cups bigger than me.”
“Don’t underestimate yo’self, honey. Pregnancy looks good on you.”
There’s a beauty regiment to follow, Anna thought. “Still, he could find any number of professional or at least amateur models at the drop of a hat. What does he need me for?”
Mabel looked skittish. “Well, you got some certain assets that he requires for this particular occasion.”
“Assets? What kind of …,” Anna trailed off as it finally dawned on her. “Oh, no.”
“It’s easy money, Anna.”
“No, no, no, no, no.”
“It’s a sleaze mag, honey. Anyone who buys it ain’t gonna be coming into this place. Dylan’ll be the only other person there.”
“I am NOT taking my clothes off, Mabel!” she yelled, drawing the attention of the kitchen staff.
“I’d pay to see that,” snickered Pete, one of the short order cooks.
“Yeah!” said Jorge, who helped out on weekends.
“I’m keeping your tips for that,” Anna told them. They butted out.
“Honey, it’s one afternoon of my son takin’ pictures of you in a fam’ly way fo’ a few hours. I’m sure if you really don’t wanna be completely undressed you ain’t gotta be. It’s just a picture, honey. A small picture in a small magazine. Don’t tell me you couldn’t use the three hundred bucks.”
Anna gaped. “Three hundred dollars?”
Mabel knew she had her, hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah, fo’ one day’s shoot. More opportunities if he likes ya. But, hey, you don’t wanna take your clothes off, so …” Mabel sauntered back to her stool in the doorway.
Three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars for only a few hours’ work. Anna was earning less than that in a week. She could save half of it, maybe even open up a bank account and put some in there, and still have enough to buy a used crib and some nice things for the baby. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but there wasn’t a lot about her life right now that seemed very ideal. It was just a few pictures.
Anna took a deep breath and marched over to Mabel. “I want your word that your son isn’t the kind of sleaze who buys the magazines he shoots for.”
Mabel laughed deep and rich. “Oh believe me honey, Dylan ain’t that kinda guy.”
~*~*~
Mabel was certainly right about that. Anna needed one look at Dylan’s tight jeans and body language to know he definitely wouldn’t be buying any magazines with pregnant women in them. Or women at all, likely.
“Well, hell-o!” he smiled widely and leaned in to kiss both Anna’s cheeks. “You must be Anna. I’d have known you anywhere. Mabel’s been telling me all about you.”
“She has?” Anna asked as she tried to take in everything; the room, the lights, and especially Dylan, who had inherited his mother’s larger-than-life personality that seemed to fill the entire space.
“Oh yes, honey,” he said as he walked away, swiveling his hips impressively with every step. Anna had no choice but to follow. “She’s taken a liking to you. She’s fixin’ to help you and your little one out. Speaking of which,” he turned on his heels suddenly, and his hands automatically found the bump on Anna’s stomach, “how is the baby? You doin’ okay in there, little one?”
“Oh,” Anna’s mind grasped for something to say, but she had to admit she was a bit off guard. She still couldn’t get used to the touching. And maybe her maternal instincts were only enhanced by the need to protect her baby from people who might harm it because of … well, she still hadn’t figured that part out yet, but she knew it was bad. It took everything she had not to pull away from Dylan’s warm hands. “She’s fine.”
“She? It’s a girl?”
“Oh,” Anna realized her mistake, “actually, I don’t know yet. That just kind of came out.”
Dylan smiled widely, his white teeth shining against his dark skin. “It probably is a girl, then. Sometimes you just get a feeling about that stuff, you know?”
Anna did know, but she didn’t see how Dylan did.
“Anyway, let’s get you ready.” He led her to a mirrored counter with a chair. “This is Shelly,” Dylan pointed to a tall blond with perfectly made-up skin. “She’s make-up. Sebastian is hair, he’ll be here in a minute. Then my assistant Marc and I will find something for you to wear, and we’ll get to work. All set?!”
Anna said shyly, “I thought Mabel said you and I were going to be the only ones here.”
Dylan smiled again. “Yeah, she said you might not be able to take all the people. After we get you set up, they’ll all go outside for a smoke while we shoot the pictures. Okay?”
“Oka—”
“Excellent! Shelly, take it away.” Shelly had Anna in the chair and was testing colors for the foundation, lips and eyes almost before she knew what was happening. They made some small talk, and Shelly, Anna could tell, was doing her best to put her at ease. “You have such beautiful skin,” she said, “such beautiful eyes. I could’a made it in the movies with eyes like yours.” Sebastian had his turn next, pumping so many products into Anna’s hair she was afraid to touch it for fear her smooth locks would have the texture of a bale of hay. Not that Anna knew what hay felt like, but she didn’t think it was good for hair. But Sebastian clearly knew what he was doing in the end, and managed to turn Anna’s stick-straight hair into loose-flowing waves that reminded Anna of a Disney princess.
“You’re looking beautiful, honey,” Dylan told her as he took her by the hand and led her to where three rolling costume racks were standing. There Anna met Marc, Dylan’s assistant, who looked through the racks of hanging designer bathing suits for different colors for Anna to wear. Other racks nearby held clothes and string bikinis, but since Marc and Dylan didn’t even look at those, she figured they must be for another shoot. They finally decided on a red maternal bikini. Dylan and Marc joked that Anna’s cheeks matched the suit when she saw it. Nevertheless, they sent her off to change. She came out from behind the folding wall with a blue robe around her shoulders. Dylan sent her back to Sherry for some slight changes to her eye-shadow and lipstick, and for some foundation to be applied to her chest, tummy and legs.
Just when Anna thought she was about to die of mortification, or run screaming out the door, Dylan took her hand once more and led her to the staging area. He and Marc arranged sitting on a turquoise blue satin blanket with a cheap backdrop of a tropical island behind her. Dylan told Sherry and Sebastian to go out for their cigarette breaks before having Anna take off her robe. Marc helped arrange the lighting before he, too, was sent scurrying out the door.
Anna had to put one hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the lights. She saw Dylan walk over to a black portable CD player where he pushed a couple buttons. He looked over at her and winked. “Music to help you get in the mood,” he said by way of an explanation. “The mix is a little old, but it’s pretty upbeat.”
Anna nodded, though she privately thought that there was little chance of her recognizing any of the songs he was about to play.
The first song started with a flat note, “Hit it,” sung succinctly by a woman. A catchy pop beat started that Anna immediately was bopping her head to.
This ain’t no disco,
Ain’t no country club neither
This is L.A.
All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die,
Says the man next to me out of nowhere
It’s apropos of nothing,
He says his name is William,
But I’m sure it’s Bill or Billy or Mac or Buddy
“I really like this. Who is this?” Anna asked.
“Sheryl Crow, honey. She ain’t bad.” Dylan was busy loading up two cameras with film while he talked to her.
“No, she’s not.” Anna made a mental note to try to pick up a CD of hers sometime.
“Okay, honey,” Dylan instructed once he was back in front of her. Turn your head that way, … good. Now look over here but don’t move your head. That’s it, honey. Move your right knee just a bit … a little more … now, take your left hand and place it just above the panty line where your tummy’s showing.”
“Oh, God,” Anna mumbled.
“Perfect, perfect, honey. Now, you’re at the beach. Just relax.” Anna tried, but the lights were shining directly on her. She felt hot and stressed, and she couldn’t open her eyes properly to see. “I can’t,” she said.
“Yes you can, honey, just open your eyes. Open your eyes.” With as much strength as she had left in her, Anna forced her eyes open. Slowly they got accustomed to the glare. “Okay, now remember what I said. Smile. Relax,” Dylan instructed from behind a camera that hid half his face from her. Anna drew a tight smile. “That’s whatcha call relaxing, honey? You look wound tighter than a pull-string toy.” Anna chuckled. “Better.” He started snapping pictures with his black camera. “Smile again for me, honey. Smile like you would for those assholes who clap when you drop a plate of food in the diner.” Anna smiled and drew her eyes down as if embarrassed. “Oh, beautiful, honey, beautiful.” He went on snapping pictures. “Smile as if the guy who made that butt-ugly backdrop behind you came up and asked if you liked it.” Another laugh, more pictures. “Smile like you would if the man of your dreams just walked through the door.”
Anna looked into the camera lens and tried to picture what the man of her dreams looked like. When the physical image wouldn’t come, she tried instead to picture what he was like as a person instead. Kind and gentle, but hidden under some tough skin; a strong, silent type of man who, like her, didn’t let his guard down very easily. Intense, but wonderful. A man who was driven by the desire to know her inside and out, who looked at her with eyes so hot they could melt your insides. Anna bit her lip unconsciously.
In the glare of the lights and the camera’s bulb, a face flashed in Anna’s mind that she almost saw reflected in the lens in front of her. But before she had the chance to dwell on it, even to pick up the details of the face, it was chased back into the recesses of her brain.
“That was great, honey!” Dylan exclaimed, taking the camera away from his face.
Anna took a few seconds to regain her composure. “That’s it?”
“That’s it?! We just went through two whole rolls of film there!””
“We did?” Had that much time gone by?
“Yup. You did wonderful honey. Once you started getting into it, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Anna smiled politely but didn’t answer.
“Why don’t you go get dressed, honey, and I’ll cut you your check.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said as she hopped up (or tried to, anyway).
When she came out from behind the folding wall, dressed in her street clothes, Dylan was finishing writing out the check. “You want it to Anna Marquez, or to cash?”
“Cash, please,” Anna said. That way she could go into a proper bank and not get scammed out of thirty cents to the dollar by the places by the diner. She had a social security card, but not a birth certificate or a driver’s license. She’d have to talk to Father Tony about getting those before she could open a bank account.
Dylan handed her the check, and Anna’s eyes raked over it, drinking the words in. Three hundred dollars, her mind kept saying over and over again. Three hundred dollars.
“You did good stuff today, honey,” Dylan told her. “You think maybe you’d be interested in some more work later on? Never-ending market for smut, you know. God bless Larry Flynt.”
Anna looked up at him and cheekily teased, “Does Father Tony know you think that?”
Dylan laughed. “Father Tony understands the world. He understands that this shit is just as fake as the movies. It’s not real. He knows we all have to make a living. I’m sure he’d rather I sell pictures of young women like yourself than actually selling young women like yourself. Some of his other neighbors over the years haven’t been so lucky.” Anna had to admit to herself that he made a good point. “So what do you say, honey? You up for another shoot sometime?”
Three hundred dollars. “Yeah, I might be tempted. But I’ll have to talk to Mabel, though. I have to work at the diner, too.”
Dylan nodded. “You’re a good girl, honey.”
“So are you.” Dylan howled with laughter and told her to get out of there.
Walking down the street to the bus station, Anna felt a little ridiculous. She still had her hair done and her make-up, piled about 20 layers thick, still clung to her skin.
Spotting a Starbucks, Anna ducked inside, ordered a tall herbal tea, and asked for the key to the bathroom. It took her nearly ten minutes of scrubbing with warm water, soap and paper towels before the water finally ran clear. She looked up in the mirror at her reflection, red and splotchy. The illusion of flawlessness had definitely been washed away down that sink, she thought.
She looked down at her clothes, all second-hand; jeans, a white tank top which she’d had to buy two sizes too big in order to allow for her expanding belly, and a plaid shirt over that with the sleeves rolled up. Definitely a far cry from the designer clothes she’d seen at the shoot.
Yet again she asked herself how she’d gotten into this mess.
And then she felt it. Inside her belly she felt her baby, who’d been dormant until then, turn over. It wasn’t as violent as a kick or a punch, but it was movement. Her baby was moving inside of her.
Anna put her hands on her stomach and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was smiling, practically glowing, so brightly that even the splotches couldn’t hide her exuberance.
Anna pulled her shirt up so she could see her belly in the mirror. Quietly she wished for the baby to move again so she could see if her stomach contorted at all.
She was rewarded with another turn, and this time a firm pressure against her tummy, as if the baby thought it could push right through. Anna’s eyes fogged over as she looked down.
And then she saw them. Two small handprints, no bigger than quarters, glowing bright neon green, were right where her hands were at just a second before.
Anna looked in the mirror. The glowing hands could be seen there, too. She didn’t need to look at her face to know she wasn’t smiling anymore.
She pulled her shirt down again, and buttoned the flannel shirt over it so that nobody could see through the thin white tank. Then she practically bolted out of the Starbucks and walked as fast as she could back to the diner. She was so panicked, Anna forgot even to stop by a bank to cash her $300 check.
~*~*~
TBC
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You guys notice a name that's noticeably absent from the list above? Huh, Spray? What do you think, Spray?
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-six – A Beauty Regiment to Follow
As I travel down life's pathway,
Know not what the years may hold;
As I ponder, hopes grow fonder,
Precious memories flood my soul.
Precious father, loving mother,
Glide across the lonely years;
And old homes scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appears.
Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul.
In the stillness of the midnight,
Precious sacred scenes unfold.
-Precious Memories
Bob Dylan
Three months later – May 2001
Los Angeles, CA
The doctor told Anna that he guessed she was about twenty-two weeks pregnant. That was easy for him to say. It felt like eighty.
After managing for a while to get away with a small bump that few people noticed, in her fourth month Anna had sprouted outwards almost overnight. She now felt – and looked – like she was carrying a fifteen-pound bowling ball in her tummy. Her back hurt. Her feet hurt. Her head hurt. Oh hell, everything hurt.
And she was barely more than half way through.
It wasn’t only her personal discomfort that annoyed her, either. She also hated the way people took her obvious pregnancy as an excuse to pry into her life. She spent her days fielding endless questions about the sex, what she was doing to name it, whether she was excited, about her and the father. It was exhausting.
And then there were the hands. Everyone wanted to put their hands on her stomach! They’d always ask something like, “Can I feel the baby?” which was nice of them, but by the time they asked they were already groping her torso, so something told Anna the words were strictly rhetorical.
All in all, Anna had stopped believing that being pregnant made you weird or crazy. Instead, she was beginning to think it made everyone else weird and crazy.
One of the customers in the diner, a woman of about thirty-five or forty who came in with four kids under ten, had taken one look at Anna and expressed her deepest pity. “I’m ambivalent towards motherhood,” she’d told her.
Anna didn’t really agree with that point of view – in spite of everything, she couldn’t wait for the baby to be born. Mostly because she wanted it out of her already.
Pregnancy, though… Anna was definitely ambivalent towards pregnancy.
At least she hadn’t had any more scares. After fainting and visiting Father Tony, Anna had attended her doctor’s appointments “religiously,” as she once punned to Father Tony. Tony, Mabel and Thom took turns driving her to the appointments at the Planned Parenthood clinic. She took her prenatal vitamins, took care of herself, ate the good foods, and exercised where she could. Everything seemed to be going along just swimmingly.
Every now and then, though, she felt afraid. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of, whether it was being a mom, being a single mom, being a single mom who couldn’t even pay her own rent, being a single non-rent paying mom who didn’t even know how old she was, or whether it was something else completely. Something that came from her life before. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t ever, let that fear overcome her. The same drive in her that made her get up from where she was laying in that alley always, always forced her to suppress her fears, push it down deep inside her, and focus instead on the tasks ahead. Her child, her baby, was so much more important than anything else. She needed to do everything she could to make sure the baby was healthy. And happy. And safe.
Which led to her to her present conundrum. In an effort to earn some money for herself and her baby, to buy things like maternity clothes, bottles, clothes, blankets, a crib, a stroller, a hanging mobile, and baby monitors, Anna quickly discovered that working for tips on her current schedule was simply not going to get her there.
So she was taking on extra shifts anywhere she could. And Mabel had noticed. “You gonna wear yo’self out like that, honey,” she’d told her last week when Anna had been working the late night shift, eight at night till four in the morning.
“I gotta do something,” she’d responded with a shrug. Mabel had let it drop then, but as she sat on her perch now, watching Anna clean up the lunch dishes from a group of kids who couldn’t be too much younger than her, Anna had the distinct feeling that Mabel was about to hassle her again soon.
As it turned out, Anna was only half right. During her break, Mabel wobbled over to her as she poured herself a glass of milk. “Why you workin’ so hard, honey?”
Again Anna told her, “I have to do something, Mabel. You’ve been so kind to me, but I can’t depend on your charity forever. I have to find some way to earn a little money to save.”
“That’s what’s gotcha so worried?”
Anna smiled. “In a nutshell.”
~*~*~
A few days later, Anna was carrying a tub of dirty dishes from the dining room to the kitchens. And Mabel caught her red-handed.
“Lord, honey, gimme those! Jaysus, you think you kin go around carryin’ heavy loads like that?” She grabbed the dishes away and took them to the sink. Anna followed.
“Mabel, come on. They’re not that heavy.”
“You help me rinse these an’ put ‘em through the washer and we’ll call it even.” Anna conceded with a smile and a thank you. They worked in silence for a while loading up the sanitizer. As Mabel slid the tray of dishes into the square box and closed the door for it to run, she said, “I think I got a way for ya to earn some extra cash, honey, if that’s whatcha want.”
“You do?” Anna asked.
“Mm-hmm. Don’t take no heavy lifting, neither.”
“Here at the diner?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Working with my son.” Mabel didn’t meet her eyes as she spoke.
“Your son? I thought he was a photographer.”
“He is.”
“Mabel, there must be plenty of people who would want to work under a photographer. People with a lot more experience and interest in that sort of thing than me. What does he want or need me for?”
“You wouldn’t be workin’ under him, honey.”
Anna’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m confused.”
“He’s lookin’ for a model.”
“A model?” Anna laughed, “Mabel, I look like a pig.”
“You do not, honey,” scoffed Mabel.
“I do, too. This is L.A. Everyone and her sister wants to be a model. And they usually like ‘em to be about ten inches taller and four cups bigger than me.”
“Don’t underestimate yo’self, honey. Pregnancy looks good on you.”
There’s a beauty regiment to follow, Anna thought. “Still, he could find any number of professional or at least amateur models at the drop of a hat. What does he need me for?”
Mabel looked skittish. “Well, you got some certain assets that he requires for this particular occasion.”
“Assets? What kind of …,” Anna trailed off as it finally dawned on her. “Oh, no.”
“It’s easy money, Anna.”
“No, no, no, no, no.”
“It’s a sleaze mag, honey. Anyone who buys it ain’t gonna be coming into this place. Dylan’ll be the only other person there.”
“I am NOT taking my clothes off, Mabel!” she yelled, drawing the attention of the kitchen staff.
“I’d pay to see that,” snickered Pete, one of the short order cooks.
“Yeah!” said Jorge, who helped out on weekends.
“I’m keeping your tips for that,” Anna told them. They butted out.
“Honey, it’s one afternoon of my son takin’ pictures of you in a fam’ly way fo’ a few hours. I’m sure if you really don’t wanna be completely undressed you ain’t gotta be. It’s just a picture, honey. A small picture in a small magazine. Don’t tell me you couldn’t use the three hundred bucks.”
Anna gaped. “Three hundred dollars?”
Mabel knew she had her, hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah, fo’ one day’s shoot. More opportunities if he likes ya. But, hey, you don’t wanna take your clothes off, so …” Mabel sauntered back to her stool in the doorway.
Three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars for only a few hours’ work. Anna was earning less than that in a week. She could save half of it, maybe even open up a bank account and put some in there, and still have enough to buy a used crib and some nice things for the baby. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but there wasn’t a lot about her life right now that seemed very ideal. It was just a few pictures.
Anna took a deep breath and marched over to Mabel. “I want your word that your son isn’t the kind of sleaze who buys the magazines he shoots for.”
Mabel laughed deep and rich. “Oh believe me honey, Dylan ain’t that kinda guy.”
~*~*~
Mabel was certainly right about that. Anna needed one look at Dylan’s tight jeans and body language to know he definitely wouldn’t be buying any magazines with pregnant women in them. Or women at all, likely.
“Well, hell-o!” he smiled widely and leaned in to kiss both Anna’s cheeks. “You must be Anna. I’d have known you anywhere. Mabel’s been telling me all about you.”
“She has?” Anna asked as she tried to take in everything; the room, the lights, and especially Dylan, who had inherited his mother’s larger-than-life personality that seemed to fill the entire space.
“Oh yes, honey,” he said as he walked away, swiveling his hips impressively with every step. Anna had no choice but to follow. “She’s taken a liking to you. She’s fixin’ to help you and your little one out. Speaking of which,” he turned on his heels suddenly, and his hands automatically found the bump on Anna’s stomach, “how is the baby? You doin’ okay in there, little one?”
“Oh,” Anna’s mind grasped for something to say, but she had to admit she was a bit off guard. She still couldn’t get used to the touching. And maybe her maternal instincts were only enhanced by the need to protect her baby from people who might harm it because of … well, she still hadn’t figured that part out yet, but she knew it was bad. It took everything she had not to pull away from Dylan’s warm hands. “She’s fine.”
“She? It’s a girl?”
“Oh,” Anna realized her mistake, “actually, I don’t know yet. That just kind of came out.”
Dylan smiled widely, his white teeth shining against his dark skin. “It probably is a girl, then. Sometimes you just get a feeling about that stuff, you know?”
Anna did know, but she didn’t see how Dylan did.
“Anyway, let’s get you ready.” He led her to a mirrored counter with a chair. “This is Shelly,” Dylan pointed to a tall blond with perfectly made-up skin. “She’s make-up. Sebastian is hair, he’ll be here in a minute. Then my assistant Marc and I will find something for you to wear, and we’ll get to work. All set?!”
Anna said shyly, “I thought Mabel said you and I were going to be the only ones here.”
Dylan smiled again. “Yeah, she said you might not be able to take all the people. After we get you set up, they’ll all go outside for a smoke while we shoot the pictures. Okay?”
“Oka—”
“Excellent! Shelly, take it away.” Shelly had Anna in the chair and was testing colors for the foundation, lips and eyes almost before she knew what was happening. They made some small talk, and Shelly, Anna could tell, was doing her best to put her at ease. “You have such beautiful skin,” she said, “such beautiful eyes. I could’a made it in the movies with eyes like yours.” Sebastian had his turn next, pumping so many products into Anna’s hair she was afraid to touch it for fear her smooth locks would have the texture of a bale of hay. Not that Anna knew what hay felt like, but she didn’t think it was good for hair. But Sebastian clearly knew what he was doing in the end, and managed to turn Anna’s stick-straight hair into loose-flowing waves that reminded Anna of a Disney princess.
“You’re looking beautiful, honey,” Dylan told her as he took her by the hand and led her to where three rolling costume racks were standing. There Anna met Marc, Dylan’s assistant, who looked through the racks of hanging designer bathing suits for different colors for Anna to wear. Other racks nearby held clothes and string bikinis, but since Marc and Dylan didn’t even look at those, she figured they must be for another shoot. They finally decided on a red maternal bikini. Dylan and Marc joked that Anna’s cheeks matched the suit when she saw it. Nevertheless, they sent her off to change. She came out from behind the folding wall with a blue robe around her shoulders. Dylan sent her back to Sherry for some slight changes to her eye-shadow and lipstick, and for some foundation to be applied to her chest, tummy and legs.
Just when Anna thought she was about to die of mortification, or run screaming out the door, Dylan took her hand once more and led her to the staging area. He and Marc arranged sitting on a turquoise blue satin blanket with a cheap backdrop of a tropical island behind her. Dylan told Sherry and Sebastian to go out for their cigarette breaks before having Anna take off her robe. Marc helped arrange the lighting before he, too, was sent scurrying out the door.
Anna had to put one hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the lights. She saw Dylan walk over to a black portable CD player where he pushed a couple buttons. He looked over at her and winked. “Music to help you get in the mood,” he said by way of an explanation. “The mix is a little old, but it’s pretty upbeat.”
Anna nodded, though she privately thought that there was little chance of her recognizing any of the songs he was about to play.
The first song started with a flat note, “Hit it,” sung succinctly by a woman. A catchy pop beat started that Anna immediately was bopping her head to.
This ain’t no disco,
Ain’t no country club neither
This is L.A.
All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die,
Says the man next to me out of nowhere
It’s apropos of nothing,
He says his name is William,
But I’m sure it’s Bill or Billy or Mac or Buddy
“I really like this. Who is this?” Anna asked.
“Sheryl Crow, honey. She ain’t bad.” Dylan was busy loading up two cameras with film while he talked to her.
“No, she’s not.” Anna made a mental note to try to pick up a CD of hers sometime.
“Okay, honey,” Dylan instructed once he was back in front of her. Turn your head that way, … good. Now look over here but don’t move your head. That’s it, honey. Move your right knee just a bit … a little more … now, take your left hand and place it just above the panty line where your tummy’s showing.”
“Oh, God,” Anna mumbled.
“Perfect, perfect, honey. Now, you’re at the beach. Just relax.” Anna tried, but the lights were shining directly on her. She felt hot and stressed, and she couldn’t open her eyes properly to see. “I can’t,” she said.
“Yes you can, honey, just open your eyes. Open your eyes.” With as much strength as she had left in her, Anna forced her eyes open. Slowly they got accustomed to the glare. “Okay, now remember what I said. Smile. Relax,” Dylan instructed from behind a camera that hid half his face from her. Anna drew a tight smile. “That’s whatcha call relaxing, honey? You look wound tighter than a pull-string toy.” Anna chuckled. “Better.” He started snapping pictures with his black camera. “Smile again for me, honey. Smile like you would for those assholes who clap when you drop a plate of food in the diner.” Anna smiled and drew her eyes down as if embarrassed. “Oh, beautiful, honey, beautiful.” He went on snapping pictures. “Smile as if the guy who made that butt-ugly backdrop behind you came up and asked if you liked it.” Another laugh, more pictures. “Smile like you would if the man of your dreams just walked through the door.”
Anna looked into the camera lens and tried to picture what the man of her dreams looked like. When the physical image wouldn’t come, she tried instead to picture what he was like as a person instead. Kind and gentle, but hidden under some tough skin; a strong, silent type of man who, like her, didn’t let his guard down very easily. Intense, but wonderful. A man who was driven by the desire to know her inside and out, who looked at her with eyes so hot they could melt your insides. Anna bit her lip unconsciously.
In the glare of the lights and the camera’s bulb, a face flashed in Anna’s mind that she almost saw reflected in the lens in front of her. But before she had the chance to dwell on it, even to pick up the details of the face, it was chased back into the recesses of her brain.
“That was great, honey!” Dylan exclaimed, taking the camera away from his face.
Anna took a few seconds to regain her composure. “That’s it?”
“That’s it?! We just went through two whole rolls of film there!””
“We did?” Had that much time gone by?
“Yup. You did wonderful honey. Once you started getting into it, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Anna smiled politely but didn’t answer.
“Why don’t you go get dressed, honey, and I’ll cut you your check.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said as she hopped up (or tried to, anyway).
When she came out from behind the folding wall, dressed in her street clothes, Dylan was finishing writing out the check. “You want it to Anna Marquez, or to cash?”
“Cash, please,” Anna said. That way she could go into a proper bank and not get scammed out of thirty cents to the dollar by the places by the diner. She had a social security card, but not a birth certificate or a driver’s license. She’d have to talk to Father Tony about getting those before she could open a bank account.
Dylan handed her the check, and Anna’s eyes raked over it, drinking the words in. Three hundred dollars, her mind kept saying over and over again. Three hundred dollars.
“You did good stuff today, honey,” Dylan told her. “You think maybe you’d be interested in some more work later on? Never-ending market for smut, you know. God bless Larry Flynt.”
Anna looked up at him and cheekily teased, “Does Father Tony know you think that?”
Dylan laughed. “Father Tony understands the world. He understands that this shit is just as fake as the movies. It’s not real. He knows we all have to make a living. I’m sure he’d rather I sell pictures of young women like yourself than actually selling young women like yourself. Some of his other neighbors over the years haven’t been so lucky.” Anna had to admit to herself that he made a good point. “So what do you say, honey? You up for another shoot sometime?”
Three hundred dollars. “Yeah, I might be tempted. But I’ll have to talk to Mabel, though. I have to work at the diner, too.”
Dylan nodded. “You’re a good girl, honey.”
“So are you.” Dylan howled with laughter and told her to get out of there.
Walking down the street to the bus station, Anna felt a little ridiculous. She still had her hair done and her make-up, piled about 20 layers thick, still clung to her skin.
Spotting a Starbucks, Anna ducked inside, ordered a tall herbal tea, and asked for the key to the bathroom. It took her nearly ten minutes of scrubbing with warm water, soap and paper towels before the water finally ran clear. She looked up in the mirror at her reflection, red and splotchy. The illusion of flawlessness had definitely been washed away down that sink, she thought.
She looked down at her clothes, all second-hand; jeans, a white tank top which she’d had to buy two sizes too big in order to allow for her expanding belly, and a plaid shirt over that with the sleeves rolled up. Definitely a far cry from the designer clothes she’d seen at the shoot.
Yet again she asked herself how she’d gotten into this mess.
And then she felt it. Inside her belly she felt her baby, who’d been dormant until then, turn over. It wasn’t as violent as a kick or a punch, but it was movement. Her baby was moving inside of her.
Anna put her hands on her stomach and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was smiling, practically glowing, so brightly that even the splotches couldn’t hide her exuberance.
Anna pulled her shirt up so she could see her belly in the mirror. Quietly she wished for the baby to move again so she could see if her stomach contorted at all.
She was rewarded with another turn, and this time a firm pressure against her tummy, as if the baby thought it could push right through. Anna’s eyes fogged over as she looked down.
And then she saw them. Two small handprints, no bigger than quarters, glowing bright neon green, were right where her hands were at just a second before.
Anna looked in the mirror. The glowing hands could be seen there, too. She didn’t need to look at her face to know she wasn’t smiling anymore.
She pulled her shirt down again, and buttoned the flannel shirt over it so that nobody could see through the thin white tank. Then she practically bolted out of the Starbucks and walked as fast as she could back to the diner. She was so panicked, Anna forgot even to stop by a bank to cash her $300 check.
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Sat Feb 16, 2008 3:52 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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LairaBehr4
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Re: The Butterfly Loss (ML Adult) Ch. 26 p. 13 13Feb08
Hello, everybody!
Happy Leap Year to all of you.
Before we get going, let me just thank all of you who have left feedback:
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L-J-L 76
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Bettylove8
Luna_Seer
Raemac
Cocogurl
Behrluv32
Kristy
Lorastar
Aurorabee
Max and Liz Believer - Jo! It's so good to see you! I'm sorry about the lack of updates for ES&L - believe me, I am working on it. But in the meantime, here you go.
Okay, now that that's out of the way... I know you guys have questions about Liz. Well, I'm not going to answer them. Tough love, baby.
And now ... for Max. Et al.. Here is a chapter for all of them. This should at least start to relieve - or further excite - some of your worries.
WARNING!
This is the bad chapter. The chapter that will have all of you hating my guts. The chapter that, I’m not entirely unconvinced, may get me driven out of fanficdom forever. What I lovingly refer to as the “hot tar and feathers” chapter (as in, what you all will be chasing me down with. For more details, see ‘The Music Man’.) Just remember, this is not my fault! It was part of the challenge!
So go blame Zanssoulmate08.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Just Feel
Sometimes I feel
I've got to run away
I've got to get away
From the pain that you drive
Into the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light
For I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night
Once I ran to you
Now I run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Oh, tainted love
Tainted love
Now I know
I've got to run away
I've got to get away
You don't really want any more from me
To make things right
You need someone to hold you tight
And you think love is to pray
But I'm sorry, I don't pray that way
Once I ran to you
Now I run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Oh, tainted love
Tainted love
Don't touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
Now I'm going to pack my things and go
Tainted love, tainted love
Tainted love, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Tainted love, tainted love
Tainted love
-Soft Cell
‘Tainted Love’
May, 2001 – Roswell, NM
Isabel opened the door to Max’s room. She took a deep breath before she looked inside; as if that simple act would change the sight that she knew was waiting for her. And when she dared to look, sure enough, there was Max laying flat on his back on the bed, his empty eyes staring into nothingness.
“Max,” she said softly, “are you ready to go?”
A moment passed before Max responded in a dull, lifeless voice, “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Isabel said. “I’m going to go grab some breakfast and I’ll meet you at the car?”
“Yeah.”
Max had barely moved. He hadn’t even looked at her as they’d spoken. Isabel closed the door with a sigh.
“Morning, honey,” Diane said when Isabel entered the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom.”
Diane looked at the doorway which Isabel had just entered through for a few seconds. “Your brother’s not coming down?”
Isabel shook her head. “He was just lying in bed.”
“Is he okay?” Diane eyed her daughter carefully. She knew her children understood each other implicitly; and she knew that Isabel wasn’t quite as good a liar as she thought she was. She watched Isabel pause in her perusal of the fruit bowl and stare for a moment before she said, “I don’t know,” and knew that her daughter was telling her the truth.
Max walked into the doorway but didn’t come into the kitchen. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Isabel said, grabbing an apple and a carton of yogurt that was on the counter.
“Max, aren’t you going to eat something?” Diane pleaded.
“I’m not hungry. Bye, Mom,” he said already half way to the front door.
Diane sighed as Isabel followed him. “Izzy,” she cried, “try to make sure he eats something, will you, honey?”
Isabel shrugged, “I’ll try, Mom.”
Diane knew, even as Isabel closed the door behind her, that what she’d asked was probably an impossible task. Max had barely eaten at all in weeks. She and Philip had hoped that the passing of time would help to heal some of the wounds left by Liz’s death, but so far his behavior had stayed pretty much the same ever since the shock wore off. She made a mental note to ask Philip if perhaps they should send Max to see a counselor again.
~*~
“I’m really worried about him, you guys,” Isabel told Alex, Michael, Maria, Kyle and Tess as they all watched Max cross the quad towards the far end without even glancing at them. He’d taken to spending his lunches sitting behind the school’s buildings overlooking the athletic fields. At first they’d taken turns trying to spend time there with him so at least he wouldn’t be alone; but when they’d taken it a step further and asked if he didn’t want to eat with him in the quad, he’d turned snappish and then reverted into his former shell of silent oblivion to the world.
“Still no change?” Alex asked.
“No, and it’s driving me crazy. He’s hurting so many people with this. Not just us, but … my mother. He barely even talks to her. It just hurts so much …”
“It’s just still hard for him,” Alex comforted her, rubbing her back lightly. “It’s hard for all of us.” Isabel rested her head on his shoulder, needing his comfort.
“He tried to come into the Crash yesterday,” Michael remarked.
“What do you mean, ‘tried’?” asked Isabel.
“What Space Boy means is,” Maria clarified, “that he was walking towards the door, got within about ten feet of it, then made a mad dash back to his car.”
Isabel groaned, “How long can this go on for?”
“Have you tried to do that voodoo that you do so well?” Kyle jokingly inquired.
“He hardly ever sleeps,” she said, “and the couple of times I’ve been able to get in, I wasn’t particularly keen on staying.”
Kyle made a cat sound. “Max was getting’ freaky!”
“Not everything is an excuse for a lame joke, Kyle,” said Maria.
“Maybe if we resumed our training,” Tess suggested. “Something to help keep his mind off of it.”
“Something physical to take his mind off of it, you mean,” Kyle joked again. The whole table joined in a group lamentation. “What? Wha’d I say?”
Maria told him, “Not enough hours in the day to go there.”
“What about the training?” Tess pressed again. “We’ve all been letting it go by the wayside since ...” she lowered her head, “since it happened.” Then, with all the poise and command of a leader, she looked up again, steadily meeting the gaze of each person there. “But we should be training. We should be preparing. Who knows what could be coming next?”
Michael quietly chewed his food. “Girl makes a point.”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “His soul mate just died. I don’t think putting the fear of alien invaders unknown is exactly going to get him back to his old self.”
“Well we can’t just do nothing, Isabel,” Michael snapped back at her. “If you ask me, he’s being pretty damn selfish acting like this. It’s like Tess said. We don’t know what’s coming after us next.”
“Unbelievable,” Maria scoffed.
“What?” cried Michael.
“I can’t believe we are back here again! After all this time! You still don’t think you should be here with us, do you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Maria!”
“I don’t know why I thought things would be any different. I should have known that all you needed was a little time and you would go back to your classic Space Boy routine.”
“Okay, stop!” Alex yelled, with more force than most of them knew he had in him. All of them fell silent and looked at him. “None of this is helping anybody. Maybe what we all really need is a chance to relax and not think about everything that’s happened this year. Not doppelgangers, or road trips, or blasting holes in public property, or funerals, or anything. Maybe acting a little normal wouldn’t be so bad, for all of us.” He hadn’t missed how, during his speech, most of the table had winced at the word “funeral,” but he could see that they were all thinking about what he’d said. They saw the logic in it.
“There’s a party at the soap factory this weekend,” Kyle offered.
“Yeah,” deadpanned Maria, “because the last one just ended so well.”
Kyle shrugged. “I could talk to the Sherriff. Remind him how we’ve all had a rough time of it lately. I’m sure I could at least bargain a warning flare out of him if the cops catch on and decide to break it up.” Everyone looked at him incredulously. “What? It’s not like he doesn’t know that we all need to unwind a bit. Besides, he’s got a soft spot for Tess here,” he wrapped his arm around Tess’s shoulders and pulled her against him playfully. “She’s got him wrapped around her pretty little fingers. Between the two of us we could make it work.”
Isabel mulled it over. “It might not be a bad idea.”
“I don’t know, guys,” said Maria. “A party? You really think Max will be up for a party?”
“It’s worth a shot,” Isabel shrugged.
~*~*~
Isabel left her last class of the day and started walking to her locker. “Hey. Isabel!” she heard behind her. Turning, she saw Tess hurrying the last few steps to catch up with her. “Do you think you guys could give me a ride home? Kyle has baseball practice.”
“Sure, it’s not a problem,” she turned to her locker to enter the combination.
“So what do you think about Kyle’s party idea?” Tess asked.
“It’s not a bad idea. It’s not like we couldn’t all use a chance to cut loose, act normal.”
Tess lowered her voice. “But we’re not normal, Isabel.”
“Shh!” Isabel shushed her, looking around to see if anybody had heard. Then she said, “It’s not as though we don’t know that, Tess. But we’ve been through a lot this year. One night of not thinking about any of it isn’t going to hurt anyone.”
Tess thought for a moment and said, “I guess you’re right.” Then she changed the subject. “What’s your American History final paper on?”
“Monroe Doctrine,” she finished getting her books and closed her locker. “You?”
“Southern Restoration.” They started walking toward the parking lot.
“Fun, fun, fun.”
“Till Daddy takes the T-bird away,” Tess smiled.
When Max walked up to the Jeep only a few minutes after Isabel and Tess arrived, he was surprised to see Tess sitting in the back. “I told Tess we could give her a ride home,” Isabel told him. He nodded and unlocked the driver’s side door.
They drove in silence for several blocks before Tess said, “So Max, there’s supposed to be something going on at the soap factory this weekend.”
Max barely issued a grunt in response.
“We were all thinking about going, Max,” Isabel told him. “On Saturday night. Remember Saturday nights?”
“That’s the day that falls between Friday and Sunday, right?”
Isabel couldn’t believe she’d just heard Max make a joke, but she decided to keep that joy to herself. Tess wasn’t as wise. “That’s the rumor,” she said in between chuckles. “What do you say?”
“To what?” he asked.
“The party, Max!” Tess exclaimed. “Soap factory. The day in between Friday and Sunday. Don’t you want to go?”
“I don’t think so.”
Isabel said, “Come on, Max. We’re all going. It wouldn’t be the same without you there.”
Max thought she was only partly right; no matter whether he went or not, it certainly wouldn’t be the same. “I don’t know,” he said as he pulled up in front of the Sherriff’s house. “I’ll wait and see.”
Isabel took this to mean “no,” but at least he wasn’t saying no outright. But at Tess exited the vehicle and watched it drive away, she became more and more determined with the growing distance that Max would be going to that party whether he wanted to or not.
~*~*~
Max was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling again. And Isabel was getting damned sick of it.
She went down to the kitchen where her parents were sitting around thinking about what to do for dinner. “Mom, Dad,” she said, “why don’t you guys go out?”
“Out for dinner?” Philip asked.
“Yeah. Max and I can take care of ourselves.”
“I don’t know,” Diane said. “Maybe you and Max should come with us.”
“No!” Isabel said, too quickly. “I mean, it’s Saturday. We were thinking of going to a party.”
Diane and Phillip looked at each other. “’We’?”
“Well, I was, and Alex and Michael and the rest of them. And we wanted to try to convince Max to come with us.”
“Well maybe you should wait and see what Max says before we go. Maybe if he doesn’t want to go out with you guys he won’t mind having dinner with us at home.”
“No, you guys should go out. And Max should come out with us,” Isabel said decisively. “It’s been four months since Liz’s accident. He really needs to at least pretend he’s still alive again.”
“Where is this party?” Phillip asked.
“At the old soap factory.”
Phillip breathed in deeply. “I don’t want you guys drinking at all. I mean it. If you guys drink a single drop you won’t see daylight until you graduate.”
Isabel’s expression turned apprehensive when he mentioned graduation. “What is it, Isabel?” Phillip asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
“Nothing, we can talk about it later. It’s nothing bad or big or anything, really. You guys should go get ready. I’ll make a reservation for you at Chez Pierre.”
“Chez Pierre?! Isabel, it’s not our anniversary or anything,” Phillip said.
“Fine way to talk about a night out with your wife of twenty-three years, Dad,” Isabel said.
“Yeah, Phillip,” added Diane. “Who said it has to be your anniversary to justify a fancy dinner with your wife?”
Isabel smiled and left her dad to fend for himself. She picked up the phone and dialed the number for Chez Pierre, which she’d memorized earlier that day when planning up her scheme. Not only was it the nicest restaurant in town, but it also tended towards European standards of service. In other words, their multi-course meals were served with about fifteen minutes between each course. They’d be at dinner at least two hours.
As soon as Phillip and Diane were out the door, Isabel made another call, this time to Michael. “What?” he answered the phone.
“Coast is clear.”
“Be right there,” he said before hanging up. Then she called Kyle. “Bingo,” she told him.
“On my way,” he said.
And finally, she called Alex. “They’re on their way.”
“I’m heading out the door.”
Within fifteen minutes, the group of them were standing together in the Evans living room. “So, what’s the game plan here?” Alex asked.
“Do we all go in there together?” Maria asked.
Isabel said, “That might feel a bit like we’re ganging up on him.”
“We are ganging up on him,” Michael pointed out.
“That’s what I thought, too,” said Kyle.
“Michael and Isabel and I will go in,” Tess said decisively. “We’ll get him ready. And then we’ll go.”
“What do the rest of us do?” Alex asked.
“Try not to get in the way,” Tess told him before heading down the hallway, clearly expecting Isabel and Michael to follow her.
“You know, I liked her better when she used to take us on scavenger hunts in libraries,” Maria snidely remarked.
~*~*~
Isabel knocked on the door, but when no response came, Tess didn’t hesitate to swing the door open violently using her alien powers.
Max practically jumped off the bed. “What the hell?” he screamed.
“Smooth,” Michael commented.
“We’re here to get you out of bed, Max,” Isabel said, “and back into the land of the living.”
“I am living, Isabel,” Max said, more than a little annoyed that he had to point out that particular detail to her.
“Yeah, about that, Maxwell,” said Michael, using his nickname for Max for the first time in a long time. “We’ve decided that your version of ‘living’ barely warrants the name. If that’s a label you want, you’re going to have to start earning it.”
“And you’re starting tonight,” said Isabel. “Get dressed.”
“I am dressed,” Max told her, but she was already digging through his closet and pulling out a couple of shirts.
“You might want to go in and get a shave, Maxwell,” Michael said, ushering him towards the bathroom.
“I don’t want to go anywhere!”
“Max,” Tess said gently, stepping forward, “you can’t keep living like this. She wouldn’t want you to,” she added, speaking lower still.
Max looked into Tess’s eyes, wide with sympathy and pleading. He didn’t want to go back to normal, but he didn’t want to be the cause of any more pain or hurt, no matter how unintentionally it was caused. His friends had all lost someone, too, and in this admittedly somewhat desperate action they were taking tonight, he saw that they didn’t want to feel as if they were losing him, too.
Maybe pretending for just one night wouldn’t be so bad.
“Let’s go, Maxwell,” Michael said.
“Forget it,” Max said, shaking his head, “I’ll just take a proper shower.” Michael stepped aside, smiling at how well their plan was working.
Hopefully it wasn’t going to backfire.
~*~*~
Strobe lights, smoke machines and a disco ball. Max had to wonder if every party at the soap factory looked exactly the same as the others.
He looked to his left and his right and saw that Alex, Kyle, Isabel, Maria, Michael and Tess were all standing clustered together around him. It was like they were afraid he’d turn and run at the first opportunity. “You guys look like you’re planning a war council,” he joked to put them at ease. “Go on, get out of here.”
“Max, are you sure?” Isabel asked.
“This is supposed to be a night about acting normal, right? About living? So go on out there and live a little.” She hesitated. “I’ll be fine, really,” he said.
Isabel looked at Alex and took his hand. Then she looked back at Max. “We’ll be around if you need us, okay?”
“Get out of here, loser.” Isabel smiled and led Alex away. “You guys, too. I don’t need a babysitter, much less six of them.”
Maria and Michael didn’t need any further invitation. “Have fun, Maxwell. That’s an order,” Michael said as he and Maria headed off.
Kyle turned to Tess. “Do you wanna dance?”
Tess looked at Max once more. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
Max nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“Okay.” She looked at Kyle. “Let’s go, Buddha Boy.”
And then there was one, Max thought to himself. He looked around at his peers, all enjoying their nice, normal existences, forgetting that one of their classmates had died earlier that year, and of course, blissfully ignorant of the secrets harbored by seven of those remaining.
Alcohol was flowing plentily, of course. The DJ was playing ‘Ride Wit Me’ by Nelly and City Spud, and the dance floor pulsed with gyrating bodies of high school students. Max found it all rather tedious. Not only that, but he could hardly stand his own presence at this place. Like everywhere else in time, he could see a ghost of him and Liz from over a year before. They were standing against that wall over there, Liz with her hair in loose curls, looking irresistible as hell. He could almost see her there now. They were taking a path just there, wandering aimlessly with their hands all over each other. They were dancing in that corner just over there, near that large speaker, in a small corner that the light hardly ever hit.
He could almost see her now.
This was a most unhealthy way to start the evening, Max knew. He forced himself to look away and to think about something else.
“Hey, Max!” said Tommy and Paulie, two of Kyle’s jock friends who had beaten him up outside the Crashdown almost two years before. “Good to see you out, man,” they said as they both threw an arm around him.
“Tommy. Paulie.”
“This is your first time out in a while, isn’t it?” Max suspected they didn’t need an answer. He was right. “Man, that sucks. Well, sounds to me like you could use a little liquid strength, my friend.” Paulie thrust a bottle into Max’s hands. “Here. This’ll put hair on your chest.” Tommy and Paulie walked away, howling in laughter.
Max looked down at the bottle of flavored vodka they’d left him with. He knew he shouldn’t, knew that, the last time he’d drunk alcohol, he’d become uncontrollable and risked exposing himself, as well as Michael and Isabel. But he also remembered that, during those two brief hours, he’d forgotten about all the things that had been pulling him down. He’d forgotten to be sad, to be quiet, to be invisible, to be alone. And he wanted, oh how he wanted, to forget all those things again.
He hoped for the best, closed his eyes and took a swig.
He opened one eye at a time and cautiously looked down at his hands, as if he expected them to start emitting bursts of power at any second. But nothing happened. And he didn’t feel any less inhibited or any more inebriated than he had a moment before. Was there really any alcohol in this, or were Tommy and Paulie just having some fun? He took another long drink.
Still nothing. Maybe aliens, like humans, could develop a tolerance for this sort of thing.
Once again Max looked around, this time with a more amiable view of his companions. Why shouldn’t they dance as though they were trying to forget their lives? What was so great about life, anyway? After all, drinking and dancing were perfectly normal activities for teenage kids.
Forgetting for one night wouldn’t be so bad.
So Max took another drink, and another and another, all to try to forget. He tried to forget that Liz was dead. That she’d never walk with him through the soap factory, or any other place, ever again. That no matter what kinds of tricks his eyes played on him, he couldn’t see her.
He couldn’t see her now.
He could see her now.
He had to look again, but he was sure he’d seen a quick swish of shiny dark hair between the moving bodies of the dancers.
There she was again!
Max held his breath. It couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t asleep, he wasn’t dreaming. She only ever came in his dreams.
But no, she was there again. As the music shifted into something slow, she appeared once more. And this time, she looked at him, and smiled her beautiful, secret smile.
She was calling to him. And he had no choice but to go to her.
He moved closer and closer to her, staring, afraid even to blink in fear she’d disappear. But she didn’t disappear. She stayed.
Oh, she stayed.
When he was right in front of her, his heart felt as if it had grown too large for his body. “Is this real?”
Liz, his own precious, beautiful Liz, smiled back at him. “It’s real,” she told him as she took the bottle from his hands and drank from it. He touched her face, felt hear soft skin, her own perfect hair. When he was finally convinced of the reality before him, he swooped down and kissed her with all the love and passion and feeling he had in him. He felt her arms come around him, cling to him, hold him to her. He felt her body press into his. His heart was flying; his mind had gone on permanent vacation. To think would be to destroy this dream-come-reality. Staying with Liz like this was all that mattered.
“Liz, Liz,” he whispered before taking a deep breath and diving in again.
It's hard for me to say the things
I want to say sometimes
There's no one here but you and me
And that broken old street light
Lock the doors
We'll leave the world outside
All I've got to give to you
Are these five words when I
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
I never knew I had a dream
Until that dream was you
When I look into your eyes
The sky's a different blue
Cross my heart
I wear no disguise
If I tried, you'd make believe
That you believed my lies
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
“Let’s get out of here,” she smiled at him.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Max used his body to push through the floor of couples dancing to Bon Jovi. He refused to unwrap his arms from Liz’s beautiful body, her entrapping curves. He kept kissing her even as they walked.
When Max felt the rush of the cold desert air blowing against his body, he felt a small sense of victory. He grabbed Liz again, kissed her yet again, and lifted her up against the wall. Her arms went back around his shoulders. Max pushed his hips into her, letting her feel the arousal that had been growing since their first kiss back on the dance floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and used the leverage to pull him closer. Paradise could never have felt so good.
“Max,” she panted, her voice heavy with desire, “I can’t wait.”
An idea formed in Max’s head. “The Jeep,” he whispered. “Come on.” He set her down and pulled her towards where Isabel had parked the Jeep. They got in, blood racing through their bodies. “Shit, shit, shit,” Max said as he realized that Isabel still had the keys. He looked over at Liz in the passenger seat, looking at him as if he were already naked. With a grunt of frustration, he waved his hand over the ignition and the Jeep spurted to life. Max reversed away from the other cars, then turned around, making a straight bee line towards the dark blackness of the abandoned desert. He could feel Liz watching him. He kept trying to calm himself, to slow down his breathing, but this was all too much for him. He reached over with one arm and grabbed her, gently, by the base of her skull, and pulled her over for another kiss. He kept it brief since he was driving, but she took it was an invitation to continue touching, kissing, feeling every part of him. One hand pulled the collar of his T-shirt down to nip at the top of his chest while the other hand, massaging and stimulating everything in its path, journeyed down his stomach and into his pants. “Shit!” Max cried, and pulled the Jeep into park. They were far away from any civilization. The lights of the soap factory had long since faded into the horizon behind them. The only lights came from the Jeep and from the stars above.
Liz got up and practically pulled Max into the back seat with her, where they immediately started kissing, feeling, tearing off clothes. “Don’t think, Max,” she said when he tried to slow her down. She pushed him onto the seat and straddled on top. “Just feel.”
For the first time in months, Max was happy to agree. The warmth from the alcohol had taken over his brain, and he was happy to give into the sensations Liz was causing him to feel. He didn’t think, didn’t ponder, didn’t slow down. He only let himself feel.
Before he knew it she had them both naked. The foreplay was over; without ceremony she sat on top of him, taking his erect tower into her body. Max wanted to cry with the feeling, the actual feeling, of being inside of her again, but she wasn’t wasting any time. Liz was already pumping up and down, up and down, with a look not of love or affection, but rather of fierce determination. Within minutes he felt his release coming upon him. “Slow down,” he begged, but she only went faster. He couldn’t control the pleasure that took over.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to tell her, knowing she hadn’t found release. She kissed him fiercely, then hopped off of him and leaned over the passenger seat. Max nearly lost it at the site of her bent over like that, but she soon popped back up again, this time with the vodka bottle back in hand. She took a swig from it, then tipped the top of it towards Max’s mouth so that he had no choice but to swallow. She drank again and kissed him with her hot mouth.
“Liz,” he whispered, pressing small kisses to her face and neck.
“Where can we go?” she asked.
“Hmm?” he asked, still occupied with his current pursuit.
“Max!” she pulled away. “Where can we go?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and reached for her again.
“No, Max! We can’t do this out here again. Where can we go?”
Max said the only place he could think of. “My house,” he whispered, still reaching for her. “We can go there. We’ll have to be quiet.”
“Your house?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he kissed her. “It’ll be like the first time.” She grew stony and cold. “Let’s go then,” she clipped. She pulled up her jeans, grabbed her shirt and sat down in the passenger seat. He was still agape when she turned around at him, fully clothed but not wearing any underwear. “Come on, Max.”
Max took several deep breaths. He found himself struggling to keep up with Liz. They seemed out of sync compared to what he remembered. But he was also so relaxed from his first release in months, from the alcohol pumping through his body, that he didn’t want to think about it too much. Her instructions of ‘Don’t think, just feel” sounded better and better all the time. Max pulled up his pants and got into the driver’s seat. “I hope I can get back to the highway,” he joked.
“It’s a hard right,” Liz said, looking straight ahead while she passed him the vodka bottle again.
Don’t think, just feel.
Max took another drink and turned the ignition on with his hand once more.
~*~*~
The knocking sounded like thunder. “Max?” his sister yelled, clearly wanting to blow his head in with the volume.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
“Get up, I have to kill you for leaving me at the soap factory last night.”
Max sat up in bed. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and rocks. “Can you give me a few hours?”
“Two hours. Then I’m coming in there.” Max looked around and blanched in panic. He definitely did not want her coming in there.
He wasn’t sure if his panic was caused from the angry sister, the empty vodka bottle on the floor, or the blonde curly head of hair lying on the pillow next to him.
~*~*~
TBC
Happy Leap Year to all of you.
Before we get going, let me just thank all of you who have left feedback:
Lurkers
Katydid
Heavenli24
Rice Krispy
Precariousem
Alien_Friend
Emz80m
uw51
Synera
L-J-L 76
DreamerMaxBehrian - okay, I know you have questions, and I know I didn't respond to them. Let me do so now:
Liz will kind of build up to the full-on nudie photos, but for now she's doing the barely-covered thing.DreamerMaxBehrian wrote:Did Anna wear a bikini for the whole 2 rolls of the shoot with Dylan as her photographer?
Max is the main focus of this chapter. Then we'll get back to Liz in Ch. 28.DreamerMaxBehrian wrote:What has Max been doing for the past 3 months?
We'll see.DreamerMaxBehrian wrote:Will Anna pick up a CD by Sheryl Crow that has “I Shall Believe” on it and listening to that song jog her memory?
We'll see.DreamerMaxBehrian wrote:Is this going to put an end to her photo shoots with Dylan now that she’s bound to know what a risk she’d be taking to continue as long as she's pregnant?
To that, I say, we'll see.DreamerMaxBehrian wrote:How is Anna going to cope with this discovery that something just isn’t “normal” about the child she’s carrying?
Bettylove8
Luna_Seer
Raemac
Cocogurl
Behrluv32
Kristy
Lorastar
Aurorabee
Max and Liz Believer - Jo! It's so good to see you! I'm sorry about the lack of updates for ES&L - believe me, I am working on it. But in the meantime, here you go.
Okay, now that that's out of the way... I know you guys have questions about Liz. Well, I'm not going to answer them. Tough love, baby.
And now ... for Max. Et al.. Here is a chapter for all of them. This should at least start to relieve - or further excite - some of your worries.
WARNING!
This is the bad chapter. The chapter that will have all of you hating my guts. The chapter that, I’m not entirely unconvinced, may get me driven out of fanficdom forever. What I lovingly refer to as the “hot tar and feathers” chapter (as in, what you all will be chasing me down with. For more details, see ‘The Music Man’.) Just remember, this is not my fault! It was part of the challenge!
So go blame Zanssoulmate08.
The Butterfly Loss
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Just Feel
Sometimes I feel
I've got to run away
I've got to get away
From the pain that you drive
Into the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light
For I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night
Once I ran to you
Now I run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Oh, tainted love
Tainted love
Now I know
I've got to run away
I've got to get away
You don't really want any more from me
To make things right
You need someone to hold you tight
And you think love is to pray
But I'm sorry, I don't pray that way
Once I ran to you
Now I run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Oh, tainted love
Tainted love
Don't touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
Now I'm going to pack my things and go
Tainted love, tainted love
Tainted love, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Touch me baby, tainted love
Tainted love, tainted love
Tainted love
-Soft Cell
‘Tainted Love’
May, 2001 – Roswell, NM
Isabel opened the door to Max’s room. She took a deep breath before she looked inside; as if that simple act would change the sight that she knew was waiting for her. And when she dared to look, sure enough, there was Max laying flat on his back on the bed, his empty eyes staring into nothingness.
“Max,” she said softly, “are you ready to go?”
A moment passed before Max responded in a dull, lifeless voice, “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Isabel said. “I’m going to go grab some breakfast and I’ll meet you at the car?”
“Yeah.”
Max had barely moved. He hadn’t even looked at her as they’d spoken. Isabel closed the door with a sigh.
“Morning, honey,” Diane said when Isabel entered the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom.”
Diane looked at the doorway which Isabel had just entered through for a few seconds. “Your brother’s not coming down?”
Isabel shook her head. “He was just lying in bed.”
“Is he okay?” Diane eyed her daughter carefully. She knew her children understood each other implicitly; and she knew that Isabel wasn’t quite as good a liar as she thought she was. She watched Isabel pause in her perusal of the fruit bowl and stare for a moment before she said, “I don’t know,” and knew that her daughter was telling her the truth.
Max walked into the doorway but didn’t come into the kitchen. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Isabel said, grabbing an apple and a carton of yogurt that was on the counter.
“Max, aren’t you going to eat something?” Diane pleaded.
“I’m not hungry. Bye, Mom,” he said already half way to the front door.
Diane sighed as Isabel followed him. “Izzy,” she cried, “try to make sure he eats something, will you, honey?”
Isabel shrugged, “I’ll try, Mom.”
Diane knew, even as Isabel closed the door behind her, that what she’d asked was probably an impossible task. Max had barely eaten at all in weeks. She and Philip had hoped that the passing of time would help to heal some of the wounds left by Liz’s death, but so far his behavior had stayed pretty much the same ever since the shock wore off. She made a mental note to ask Philip if perhaps they should send Max to see a counselor again.
~*~
“I’m really worried about him, you guys,” Isabel told Alex, Michael, Maria, Kyle and Tess as they all watched Max cross the quad towards the far end without even glancing at them. He’d taken to spending his lunches sitting behind the school’s buildings overlooking the athletic fields. At first they’d taken turns trying to spend time there with him so at least he wouldn’t be alone; but when they’d taken it a step further and asked if he didn’t want to eat with him in the quad, he’d turned snappish and then reverted into his former shell of silent oblivion to the world.
“Still no change?” Alex asked.
“No, and it’s driving me crazy. He’s hurting so many people with this. Not just us, but … my mother. He barely even talks to her. It just hurts so much …”
“It’s just still hard for him,” Alex comforted her, rubbing her back lightly. “It’s hard for all of us.” Isabel rested her head on his shoulder, needing his comfort.
“He tried to come into the Crash yesterday,” Michael remarked.
“What do you mean, ‘tried’?” asked Isabel.
“What Space Boy means is,” Maria clarified, “that he was walking towards the door, got within about ten feet of it, then made a mad dash back to his car.”
Isabel groaned, “How long can this go on for?”
“Have you tried to do that voodoo that you do so well?” Kyle jokingly inquired.
“He hardly ever sleeps,” she said, “and the couple of times I’ve been able to get in, I wasn’t particularly keen on staying.”
Kyle made a cat sound. “Max was getting’ freaky!”
“Not everything is an excuse for a lame joke, Kyle,” said Maria.
“Maybe if we resumed our training,” Tess suggested. “Something to help keep his mind off of it.”
“Something physical to take his mind off of it, you mean,” Kyle joked again. The whole table joined in a group lamentation. “What? Wha’d I say?”
Maria told him, “Not enough hours in the day to go there.”
“What about the training?” Tess pressed again. “We’ve all been letting it go by the wayside since ...” she lowered her head, “since it happened.” Then, with all the poise and command of a leader, she looked up again, steadily meeting the gaze of each person there. “But we should be training. We should be preparing. Who knows what could be coming next?”
Michael quietly chewed his food. “Girl makes a point.”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “His soul mate just died. I don’t think putting the fear of alien invaders unknown is exactly going to get him back to his old self.”
“Well we can’t just do nothing, Isabel,” Michael snapped back at her. “If you ask me, he’s being pretty damn selfish acting like this. It’s like Tess said. We don’t know what’s coming after us next.”
“Unbelievable,” Maria scoffed.
“What?” cried Michael.
“I can’t believe we are back here again! After all this time! You still don’t think you should be here with us, do you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Maria!”
“I don’t know why I thought things would be any different. I should have known that all you needed was a little time and you would go back to your classic Space Boy routine.”
“Okay, stop!” Alex yelled, with more force than most of them knew he had in him. All of them fell silent and looked at him. “None of this is helping anybody. Maybe what we all really need is a chance to relax and not think about everything that’s happened this year. Not doppelgangers, or road trips, or blasting holes in public property, or funerals, or anything. Maybe acting a little normal wouldn’t be so bad, for all of us.” He hadn’t missed how, during his speech, most of the table had winced at the word “funeral,” but he could see that they were all thinking about what he’d said. They saw the logic in it.
“There’s a party at the soap factory this weekend,” Kyle offered.
“Yeah,” deadpanned Maria, “because the last one just ended so well.”
Kyle shrugged. “I could talk to the Sherriff. Remind him how we’ve all had a rough time of it lately. I’m sure I could at least bargain a warning flare out of him if the cops catch on and decide to break it up.” Everyone looked at him incredulously. “What? It’s not like he doesn’t know that we all need to unwind a bit. Besides, he’s got a soft spot for Tess here,” he wrapped his arm around Tess’s shoulders and pulled her against him playfully. “She’s got him wrapped around her pretty little fingers. Between the two of us we could make it work.”
Isabel mulled it over. “It might not be a bad idea.”
“I don’t know, guys,” said Maria. “A party? You really think Max will be up for a party?”
“It’s worth a shot,” Isabel shrugged.
~*~*~
Isabel left her last class of the day and started walking to her locker. “Hey. Isabel!” she heard behind her. Turning, she saw Tess hurrying the last few steps to catch up with her. “Do you think you guys could give me a ride home? Kyle has baseball practice.”
“Sure, it’s not a problem,” she turned to her locker to enter the combination.
“So what do you think about Kyle’s party idea?” Tess asked.
“It’s not a bad idea. It’s not like we couldn’t all use a chance to cut loose, act normal.”
Tess lowered her voice. “But we’re not normal, Isabel.”
“Shh!” Isabel shushed her, looking around to see if anybody had heard. Then she said, “It’s not as though we don’t know that, Tess. But we’ve been through a lot this year. One night of not thinking about any of it isn’t going to hurt anyone.”
Tess thought for a moment and said, “I guess you’re right.” Then she changed the subject. “What’s your American History final paper on?”
“Monroe Doctrine,” she finished getting her books and closed her locker. “You?”
“Southern Restoration.” They started walking toward the parking lot.
“Fun, fun, fun.”
“Till Daddy takes the T-bird away,” Tess smiled.
When Max walked up to the Jeep only a few minutes after Isabel and Tess arrived, he was surprised to see Tess sitting in the back. “I told Tess we could give her a ride home,” Isabel told him. He nodded and unlocked the driver’s side door.
They drove in silence for several blocks before Tess said, “So Max, there’s supposed to be something going on at the soap factory this weekend.”
Max barely issued a grunt in response.
“We were all thinking about going, Max,” Isabel told him. “On Saturday night. Remember Saturday nights?”
“That’s the day that falls between Friday and Sunday, right?”
Isabel couldn’t believe she’d just heard Max make a joke, but she decided to keep that joy to herself. Tess wasn’t as wise. “That’s the rumor,” she said in between chuckles. “What do you say?”
“To what?” he asked.
“The party, Max!” Tess exclaimed. “Soap factory. The day in between Friday and Sunday. Don’t you want to go?”
“I don’t think so.”
Isabel said, “Come on, Max. We’re all going. It wouldn’t be the same without you there.”
Max thought she was only partly right; no matter whether he went or not, it certainly wouldn’t be the same. “I don’t know,” he said as he pulled up in front of the Sherriff’s house. “I’ll wait and see.”
Isabel took this to mean “no,” but at least he wasn’t saying no outright. But at Tess exited the vehicle and watched it drive away, she became more and more determined with the growing distance that Max would be going to that party whether he wanted to or not.
~*~*~
Max was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling again. And Isabel was getting damned sick of it.
She went down to the kitchen where her parents were sitting around thinking about what to do for dinner. “Mom, Dad,” she said, “why don’t you guys go out?”
“Out for dinner?” Philip asked.
“Yeah. Max and I can take care of ourselves.”
“I don’t know,” Diane said. “Maybe you and Max should come with us.”
“No!” Isabel said, too quickly. “I mean, it’s Saturday. We were thinking of going to a party.”
Diane and Phillip looked at each other. “’We’?”
“Well, I was, and Alex and Michael and the rest of them. And we wanted to try to convince Max to come with us.”
“Well maybe you should wait and see what Max says before we go. Maybe if he doesn’t want to go out with you guys he won’t mind having dinner with us at home.”
“No, you guys should go out. And Max should come out with us,” Isabel said decisively. “It’s been four months since Liz’s accident. He really needs to at least pretend he’s still alive again.”
“Where is this party?” Phillip asked.
“At the old soap factory.”
Phillip breathed in deeply. “I don’t want you guys drinking at all. I mean it. If you guys drink a single drop you won’t see daylight until you graduate.”
Isabel’s expression turned apprehensive when he mentioned graduation. “What is it, Isabel?” Phillip asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
“Nothing, we can talk about it later. It’s nothing bad or big or anything, really. You guys should go get ready. I’ll make a reservation for you at Chez Pierre.”
“Chez Pierre?! Isabel, it’s not our anniversary or anything,” Phillip said.
“Fine way to talk about a night out with your wife of twenty-three years, Dad,” Isabel said.
“Yeah, Phillip,” added Diane. “Who said it has to be your anniversary to justify a fancy dinner with your wife?”
Isabel smiled and left her dad to fend for himself. She picked up the phone and dialed the number for Chez Pierre, which she’d memorized earlier that day when planning up her scheme. Not only was it the nicest restaurant in town, but it also tended towards European standards of service. In other words, their multi-course meals were served with about fifteen minutes between each course. They’d be at dinner at least two hours.
As soon as Phillip and Diane were out the door, Isabel made another call, this time to Michael. “What?” he answered the phone.
“Coast is clear.”
“Be right there,” he said before hanging up. Then she called Kyle. “Bingo,” she told him.
“On my way,” he said.
And finally, she called Alex. “They’re on their way.”
“I’m heading out the door.”
Within fifteen minutes, the group of them were standing together in the Evans living room. “So, what’s the game plan here?” Alex asked.
“Do we all go in there together?” Maria asked.
Isabel said, “That might feel a bit like we’re ganging up on him.”
“We are ganging up on him,” Michael pointed out.
“That’s what I thought, too,” said Kyle.
“Michael and Isabel and I will go in,” Tess said decisively. “We’ll get him ready. And then we’ll go.”
“What do the rest of us do?” Alex asked.
“Try not to get in the way,” Tess told him before heading down the hallway, clearly expecting Isabel and Michael to follow her.
“You know, I liked her better when she used to take us on scavenger hunts in libraries,” Maria snidely remarked.
~*~*~
Isabel knocked on the door, but when no response came, Tess didn’t hesitate to swing the door open violently using her alien powers.
Max practically jumped off the bed. “What the hell?” he screamed.
“Smooth,” Michael commented.
“We’re here to get you out of bed, Max,” Isabel said, “and back into the land of the living.”
“I am living, Isabel,” Max said, more than a little annoyed that he had to point out that particular detail to her.
“Yeah, about that, Maxwell,” said Michael, using his nickname for Max for the first time in a long time. “We’ve decided that your version of ‘living’ barely warrants the name. If that’s a label you want, you’re going to have to start earning it.”
“And you’re starting tonight,” said Isabel. “Get dressed.”
“I am dressed,” Max told her, but she was already digging through his closet and pulling out a couple of shirts.
“You might want to go in and get a shave, Maxwell,” Michael said, ushering him towards the bathroom.
“I don’t want to go anywhere!”
“Max,” Tess said gently, stepping forward, “you can’t keep living like this. She wouldn’t want you to,” she added, speaking lower still.
Max looked into Tess’s eyes, wide with sympathy and pleading. He didn’t want to go back to normal, but he didn’t want to be the cause of any more pain or hurt, no matter how unintentionally it was caused. His friends had all lost someone, too, and in this admittedly somewhat desperate action they were taking tonight, he saw that they didn’t want to feel as if they were losing him, too.
Maybe pretending for just one night wouldn’t be so bad.
“Let’s go, Maxwell,” Michael said.
“Forget it,” Max said, shaking his head, “I’ll just take a proper shower.” Michael stepped aside, smiling at how well their plan was working.
Hopefully it wasn’t going to backfire.
~*~*~
Strobe lights, smoke machines and a disco ball. Max had to wonder if every party at the soap factory looked exactly the same as the others.
He looked to his left and his right and saw that Alex, Kyle, Isabel, Maria, Michael and Tess were all standing clustered together around him. It was like they were afraid he’d turn and run at the first opportunity. “You guys look like you’re planning a war council,” he joked to put them at ease. “Go on, get out of here.”
“Max, are you sure?” Isabel asked.
“This is supposed to be a night about acting normal, right? About living? So go on out there and live a little.” She hesitated. “I’ll be fine, really,” he said.
Isabel looked at Alex and took his hand. Then she looked back at Max. “We’ll be around if you need us, okay?”
“Get out of here, loser.” Isabel smiled and led Alex away. “You guys, too. I don’t need a babysitter, much less six of them.”
Maria and Michael didn’t need any further invitation. “Have fun, Maxwell. That’s an order,” Michael said as he and Maria headed off.
Kyle turned to Tess. “Do you wanna dance?”
Tess looked at Max once more. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
Max nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“Okay.” She looked at Kyle. “Let’s go, Buddha Boy.”
And then there was one, Max thought to himself. He looked around at his peers, all enjoying their nice, normal existences, forgetting that one of their classmates had died earlier that year, and of course, blissfully ignorant of the secrets harbored by seven of those remaining.
Alcohol was flowing plentily, of course. The DJ was playing ‘Ride Wit Me’ by Nelly and City Spud, and the dance floor pulsed with gyrating bodies of high school students. Max found it all rather tedious. Not only that, but he could hardly stand his own presence at this place. Like everywhere else in time, he could see a ghost of him and Liz from over a year before. They were standing against that wall over there, Liz with her hair in loose curls, looking irresistible as hell. He could almost see her there now. They were taking a path just there, wandering aimlessly with their hands all over each other. They were dancing in that corner just over there, near that large speaker, in a small corner that the light hardly ever hit.
He could almost see her now.
This was a most unhealthy way to start the evening, Max knew. He forced himself to look away and to think about something else.
“Hey, Max!” said Tommy and Paulie, two of Kyle’s jock friends who had beaten him up outside the Crashdown almost two years before. “Good to see you out, man,” they said as they both threw an arm around him.
“Tommy. Paulie.”
“This is your first time out in a while, isn’t it?” Max suspected they didn’t need an answer. He was right. “Man, that sucks. Well, sounds to me like you could use a little liquid strength, my friend.” Paulie thrust a bottle into Max’s hands. “Here. This’ll put hair on your chest.” Tommy and Paulie walked away, howling in laughter.
Max looked down at the bottle of flavored vodka they’d left him with. He knew he shouldn’t, knew that, the last time he’d drunk alcohol, he’d become uncontrollable and risked exposing himself, as well as Michael and Isabel. But he also remembered that, during those two brief hours, he’d forgotten about all the things that had been pulling him down. He’d forgotten to be sad, to be quiet, to be invisible, to be alone. And he wanted, oh how he wanted, to forget all those things again.
He hoped for the best, closed his eyes and took a swig.
He opened one eye at a time and cautiously looked down at his hands, as if he expected them to start emitting bursts of power at any second. But nothing happened. And he didn’t feel any less inhibited or any more inebriated than he had a moment before. Was there really any alcohol in this, or were Tommy and Paulie just having some fun? He took another long drink.
Still nothing. Maybe aliens, like humans, could develop a tolerance for this sort of thing.
Once again Max looked around, this time with a more amiable view of his companions. Why shouldn’t they dance as though they were trying to forget their lives? What was so great about life, anyway? After all, drinking and dancing were perfectly normal activities for teenage kids.
Forgetting for one night wouldn’t be so bad.
So Max took another drink, and another and another, all to try to forget. He tried to forget that Liz was dead. That she’d never walk with him through the soap factory, or any other place, ever again. That no matter what kinds of tricks his eyes played on him, he couldn’t see her.
He couldn’t see her now.
He could see her now.
He had to look again, but he was sure he’d seen a quick swish of shiny dark hair between the moving bodies of the dancers.
There she was again!
Max held his breath. It couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t asleep, he wasn’t dreaming. She only ever came in his dreams.
But no, she was there again. As the music shifted into something slow, she appeared once more. And this time, she looked at him, and smiled her beautiful, secret smile.
She was calling to him. And he had no choice but to go to her.
He moved closer and closer to her, staring, afraid even to blink in fear she’d disappear. But she didn’t disappear. She stayed.
Oh, she stayed.
When he was right in front of her, his heart felt as if it had grown too large for his body. “Is this real?”
Liz, his own precious, beautiful Liz, smiled back at him. “It’s real,” she told him as she took the bottle from his hands and drank from it. He touched her face, felt hear soft skin, her own perfect hair. When he was finally convinced of the reality before him, he swooped down and kissed her with all the love and passion and feeling he had in him. He felt her arms come around him, cling to him, hold him to her. He felt her body press into his. His heart was flying; his mind had gone on permanent vacation. To think would be to destroy this dream-come-reality. Staying with Liz like this was all that mattered.
“Liz, Liz,” he whispered before taking a deep breath and diving in again.
It's hard for me to say the things
I want to say sometimes
There's no one here but you and me
And that broken old street light
Lock the doors
We'll leave the world outside
All I've got to give to you
Are these five words when I
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
I never knew I had a dream
Until that dream was you
When I look into your eyes
The sky's a different blue
Cross my heart
I wear no disguise
If I tried, you'd make believe
That you believed my lies
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
“Let’s get out of here,” she smiled at him.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Max used his body to push through the floor of couples dancing to Bon Jovi. He refused to unwrap his arms from Liz’s beautiful body, her entrapping curves. He kept kissing her even as they walked.
When Max felt the rush of the cold desert air blowing against his body, he felt a small sense of victory. He grabbed Liz again, kissed her yet again, and lifted her up against the wall. Her arms went back around his shoulders. Max pushed his hips into her, letting her feel the arousal that had been growing since their first kiss back on the dance floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and used the leverage to pull him closer. Paradise could never have felt so good.
“Max,” she panted, her voice heavy with desire, “I can’t wait.”
An idea formed in Max’s head. “The Jeep,” he whispered. “Come on.” He set her down and pulled her towards where Isabel had parked the Jeep. They got in, blood racing through their bodies. “Shit, shit, shit,” Max said as he realized that Isabel still had the keys. He looked over at Liz in the passenger seat, looking at him as if he were already naked. With a grunt of frustration, he waved his hand over the ignition and the Jeep spurted to life. Max reversed away from the other cars, then turned around, making a straight bee line towards the dark blackness of the abandoned desert. He could feel Liz watching him. He kept trying to calm himself, to slow down his breathing, but this was all too much for him. He reached over with one arm and grabbed her, gently, by the base of her skull, and pulled her over for another kiss. He kept it brief since he was driving, but she took it was an invitation to continue touching, kissing, feeling every part of him. One hand pulled the collar of his T-shirt down to nip at the top of his chest while the other hand, massaging and stimulating everything in its path, journeyed down his stomach and into his pants. “Shit!” Max cried, and pulled the Jeep into park. They were far away from any civilization. The lights of the soap factory had long since faded into the horizon behind them. The only lights came from the Jeep and from the stars above.
Liz got up and practically pulled Max into the back seat with her, where they immediately started kissing, feeling, tearing off clothes. “Don’t think, Max,” she said when he tried to slow her down. She pushed him onto the seat and straddled on top. “Just feel.”
For the first time in months, Max was happy to agree. The warmth from the alcohol had taken over his brain, and he was happy to give into the sensations Liz was causing him to feel. He didn’t think, didn’t ponder, didn’t slow down. He only let himself feel.
Before he knew it she had them both naked. The foreplay was over; without ceremony she sat on top of him, taking his erect tower into her body. Max wanted to cry with the feeling, the actual feeling, of being inside of her again, but she wasn’t wasting any time. Liz was already pumping up and down, up and down, with a look not of love or affection, but rather of fierce determination. Within minutes he felt his release coming upon him. “Slow down,” he begged, but she only went faster. He couldn’t control the pleasure that took over.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to tell her, knowing she hadn’t found release. She kissed him fiercely, then hopped off of him and leaned over the passenger seat. Max nearly lost it at the site of her bent over like that, but she soon popped back up again, this time with the vodka bottle back in hand. She took a swig from it, then tipped the top of it towards Max’s mouth so that he had no choice but to swallow. She drank again and kissed him with her hot mouth.
“Liz,” he whispered, pressing small kisses to her face and neck.
“Where can we go?” she asked.
“Hmm?” he asked, still occupied with his current pursuit.
“Max!” she pulled away. “Where can we go?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and reached for her again.
“No, Max! We can’t do this out here again. Where can we go?”
Max said the only place he could think of. “My house,” he whispered, still reaching for her. “We can go there. We’ll have to be quiet.”
“Your house?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he kissed her. “It’ll be like the first time.” She grew stony and cold. “Let’s go then,” she clipped. She pulled up her jeans, grabbed her shirt and sat down in the passenger seat. He was still agape when she turned around at him, fully clothed but not wearing any underwear. “Come on, Max.”
Max took several deep breaths. He found himself struggling to keep up with Liz. They seemed out of sync compared to what he remembered. But he was also so relaxed from his first release in months, from the alcohol pumping through his body, that he didn’t want to think about it too much. Her instructions of ‘Don’t think, just feel” sounded better and better all the time. Max pulled up his pants and got into the driver’s seat. “I hope I can get back to the highway,” he joked.
“It’s a hard right,” Liz said, looking straight ahead while she passed him the vodka bottle again.
Don’t think, just feel.
Max took another drink and turned the ignition on with his hand once more.
~*~*~
The knocking sounded like thunder. “Max?” his sister yelled, clearly wanting to blow his head in with the volume.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
“Get up, I have to kill you for leaving me at the soap factory last night.”
Max sat up in bed. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and rocks. “Can you give me a few hours?”
“Two hours. Then I’m coming in there.” Max looked around and blanched in panic. He definitely did not want her coming in there.
He wasn’t sure if his panic was caused from the angry sister, the empty vodka bottle on the floor, or the blonde curly head of hair lying on the pillow next to him.
~*~*~
TBC
Last edited by LairaBehr4 on Tue May 13, 2008 10:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.