The Denial Game (ML,MATURE) AN [9/11]

This is the place where fics that have not been updated in the past three months will be moved until the author asks a mod to move them back to an active board.

Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, truelovepooh, Forum Moderators

User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty:
-------------------------------------------------



Juanita puts a plate down in front of me and walks away, back through the door she came from. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this, this eating by myself at a fancy dining room table, alone. It’s just strange to me. Strange. As was waking up in my new bed in my new room this morning, and not remember having slept there. Strange. Which isn’t all too surprising, even though it should be. My life is just one big blur.

Push the plate back and stand up, grabbing my bag along the way. “Juanita, I’m heading off to school.”

I think I’m supposed to walk to school, but I’m not quite sure. No one ever told me anything about it. Before, I always caught a ride with Alex, but now that I no longer reside with Alex ...

“Señorita Elizabeth,” Juanita bustles out as I slip my bag on, “You don’t go to school today.”

I stare at her for a bit. “What are you talking about, Juanita? Of course I’m going to school. It’s a Monday.”

“Señor Harding comes today. You stay here and meet him.” And with that, she disappears again.

Huh, strange. So I finally get to meet my mother’s cousin. Well, I’ve met him before, but now I actually get to talk to him and see what he’s like. He’s probably weird. Why? Because weirdness is hereditary. And dad was normal. Granted he did … kind of … sort of … murder my mom … yeah … moving on … think happy thoughts.

Yeah, flowers. Flowers are good and pretty, especially when they bloom and shine in the sunlight. And sunlight is good. The sun is good. The sun is essential to life. I learned that in biology last year. Yeah, science is good too. So is science class. And labs too. I do my labs at Max’s table. And Max is good. Max is real good …

“Elizabeth, there is someone waiting to see you outside.”

“Okay. Thank you, Juanita.” It’s funny because I hear her voice, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.

I had to go through about three doors until I finally reached the front of the house. It’s ridiculous. But there he is, standing right inside the opened front door, smiling at me.

“Good morning, Alex. What are you doing here?”

He gives me that huge smile of his and I just melt. “I wasn’t sure if I’m still giving you a ride to school or not.”

And I really, I just, “I don’t know.”

“Because I don’t mind. Really.” That’s Alex for you, nothing but nice.

Sigh and shake my head. “But driving over here every morning is out of your way. I can just walk.”

“And be all sweaty when you get to school? I don’t think so.” His hands go on his hips and he gives me this stern look. And these are the moments when I question Alex’s sexuality.

But I smile. “Well, thanks, but I’m not going to school today. Edward Harding is coming home today and Juanita thinks I should be here for that.”

“Lucky dog. Fine, live the high life and stay at home while the rest of us slave away confined in the prison walls of West Roswell High.” And these are Alex’s overdramatic moments. I love how I’m able to classify these things. I guess that’s what living with someone does to you. “But I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning?”

Smile and wave as he starts backing out the door. “Will do.”

“Okay. Bye, Liz.”

I watch him walk to his car before I close the door and head upstairs. It doesn’t take me three doors to get to my room, just a stairway, an entertaining room of some sort, and a hallway, but that’s all.

Enter my room to find Juanita, making my bed. Huh … there is some really good stuff to this whole maid business.

“Juanita, are you sure that I-”

“Yes, Elizabeth. You must stay at home.” She walks over and grabs my book-bag from me and hangs it on the back of the chair at the desk. “I’ve already called your school to tell them that you won’t be attending today.”

It’s great how I’ve only spent a day with her and yet she knows me so well. Which only adds to my suspicion that Juanita is in fact a secret agent, planted here to monitor Edward Harding’s evil underground running of monkey dealing.

I am weird.

And while I was thinking all of this, Juanita slipped out without my noticing. Again, secret spy stuff.

My room is nicely made up. Everything in its place. All but one thing. Walk over to the bed and sit down, picking the jacket up and holding it in my lap. It’s Max’s jacket. How do I know this? Because it smells like him … and I’ve seen him wearing it.

He probably left it when he came over yesterday. Which is why it was in my room this morning. Yeah, we’re just going to overlook the fact that I woke up wearing the thing.

And I’m debating in my head what I should do.

I could keep it. I mean, it’s nice. And it would be my little piece of Max. But that would only add to my weirdness and feed my obsession. And we can’t have that. Wait … obsession? What?

I hear a noise and get up to look out the window. Max just came out of his front door, his backpack in hand. I hug the jacket to me. It looks like it might be a little cool out. Maybe I should go give it to him. Maybe …

Sigh and hurry down the stairs. See how quickly I cave? There’s just something about the guy that just … draws me to him. Despite the fact that the only reason he is around me is because I force him to be, so that he can ‘save’ me. Because Max is a nice guy like that. And nice guys don’t turn their backs on strange and desperate people in need, no matter how undeserving.

I’m out the front door and across the street just before he starts to back out of his driveway and run me over.

I stand a little ways away from his car and just watch as the door opens and he gets out. He’s taking his shiny car to school today. I wonder why. Some girl to impress? I wouldn’t be surprised. Hurt, yes. But not surprised. Wait … why would I be hurt? Why is it that what Max does is starting to mean so much to me? Why is Max starting to mean so much to me?

“Liz?”

Big smile. Because, maybe, if I smile, he’ll smile. “Max, hi.” But he doesn’t smile. He just stands there, a good distance away from me, looking … I want to say fearful, nervous, tired, closed off, or maybe weary, but none of those words seem to suit the way he’s just staring back at me.

And there’s this kind of silence that just, shouldn’t be there. There shouldn’t be this tension or this standoffish distance between us. I mean, he told me he cared about me, granted, it may not be the way I want him to care, but at least I mean something to him. A charitable case, perhaps, but so be it. Something is better than nothing. “Max, you look kind of … did you get any sleep?”

“You’re talking to me? Why are you talking to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? What? Do you not want me talking to you?” Is that it? Because if that’s it, I can bolt right now, faster than I’ve ever gone in my life. Because if he doesn’t want me around, I won’t be. If he finally realized that I’m a bigger hassle than he can stand, then I’m gone. Damn the fucking pull I have towards him. Damn it to hell.

“It’s just ... I didn’t expect you to.” And with the amount of distance there is between us and how soft he’s talking, you would think that I would be having a hard time hearing him. But I’m not because I’m that damn focused on him. Because what he’s saying right now means that fucking much to me. “Are you … are you really okay with all of this?”

“With all of what, Max?” God, when will I ever understand all that this boy says?

And he’s still just standing there. “With everything.” There’s this small emphasis on the ‘everything’. But I don’t know why.

If I understood in the slightest, I could possibly answer him. But I can’t because I just don’t … “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I would comment on how frantic he looks, except that I’m a little too confused to note it. “Yesterday, everything that happened …”

Are we talking about the pity party we had yesterday? Or when he told me that I was special? Does he want to take it back? Because you can’t take shit like that back. You just can’t. “Look, I just came to return your jacket. I found it this morning.”

“Oh.” I hold it out for him to take but he just stands and stares at it, at me. The seconds tick by.

“If you’re that scared to come near me, how about I just leave it on your car and back away slowly?” Toss the thing up in the air and it lands nicely somewhere between the driver side and the passenger side of his car.

“No, I just thought that you’d … be scared … of me.” Enter the hurt little boy look.

“Why?” Why would I be when he’s nothing but sweet, nothing but nice, nothing but perfect to me?

“Because of who I am,” this scoff of a laugh comes out of him, “What I am.”

“Who you are.” This is ridiculous. “Wait. Is this about your whole ‘dad in high places’ thing? Because Juanita told me about that.”

“Kind of.”

“What? Can you not be seen with me? Is it not good for your reputation?” Dude, I should leave. I should be leaving right now.

“What are you talking about?” The gap between us shrinks when he steps a bit closer to me.

But I’m rooted to my spot. “What are you talking about, Max?”

He is less than two steps away now. “I’m talking about last night.”

Shake my head. “What happened last night?”

“I was with you.” I feel his fingers reach out and wrap around my wrist, his thumb brushing back and forth across my pulse. And all of those sappy romance novels come into play because there’s so much heat to his touch. ‘My skin burned where Fabio’s fingers laid’ and all of that sappy junk.

And I won’t deny that I enjoyed the closeness for a second, the heat. Only for a second though, because that’s how long it lasted before I steeled myself and pulled my arm away. “Not at night you weren’t. Yesterday, I moved in, you came over, and you left after your pager went off. That was it.”

“No, it wasn’t.” And he’s again, so damnedably sure of himself. And there’s just so much grr-ness right now that I just-

“Master Evans, I hate to interrupt, but you’ll be late for school.”

“Thank you, Larek.” Max doesn’t even glance over at the voice coming from his house. But I do. And the old man standing there reminds me so much of Batman’s butler, Alfred, that it’s creepy. Maybe Max is a superhero, some kind of masked caped crusader. I mean, the secretiveness, the chick-magnetism, the pages, the mansion, the muscles …

“I’ll give you a ride to school and we can figure this out on the way.” He hints towards his car and I shake my head, stepping away, more towards my new home.

“No thanks.”

“Something’s wrong, Liz. And we need to figure out what. Because, apparently, either you are remembering things wrong or I am.”

Shake my head and take another step away from him. “I’m not going to school today.”

“Why not? Are you feeling okay?” He seems worried and steps towards me, but I step back too and he stops.

“I’m fine I’m just … spending some bonding time with my mom’s cousin today.” His watch beeps and I just have to laugh for some odd reason. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”

“Yeah.” A few steps and his hand grabs my arm, and I’m pulled into this comforting, but awkward hug, with words being whispered softly in my ear, “Don’t hate me. Please, I just wanted to make things right.”

Somewhat dazed, but I’m … still … “Max, what are you talking about?”

“You’ll see. I’ll figure things out.” And he hops back into his car.

My arms go over my chest and I walk back towards the house. Open the door and start walking towards one room or another. “Juanita, I’m back.”

“Good morning, Elizabeth.” There’s a man sitting at the head of the dining table. But not just any man, Edward Harding.

“Hello,” I’m Liz. I’m the new thing that you feel like you own.

He’s sitting with his elbows on the table, his fingers tapping together quietly, an evil grin on his face. You know who he reminds me of? Mr. Burns of the Simpsons, only less oldness. Oh, the resemblence. “Sit down, have breakfast.”

“Okay.” I think I know that what he commands, I must do. Because he scares me that much.

“Where were you?”

“Oh, I was returning Max his jacket.” And it was weird between Max and I.

“Maxwell.” He smiles. It’s scary. “Juanita tells me he’s quite fond of you.”

“I wouldn’t say fond, but-”

“Perfect.” Again the evil grin. Then he squints his eyes and frowns. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Wha … nothing. Nothing is wrong with my eyes.” What would be wrong with my eyes?

“They’re brown.”

“Yeah, they are.” Of course they’re brown. They’ve always been brown.

“Even your diction is terrible. Heaven forbid we even start with you mannerisms and etiquette. But what could I expect when you were raised by that heathen.”

Heathen? “Who? My father?”

“Legally and genetically, you can refer to Hank as such, I suppose.”

He supposes. “Well, that’s what he is, my father.” In every sense of the word, not just legally or genetically.

“Elizabeth, proper girls speak with delicate voices.”

Proper girls? Delicate voices? What?

“Now … Heavens, those eyes.” He turns his head and won’t even look at me. It’s like I’m an evil spawn of some sort. “Why don’t you at least have those contacts in?”

“Well … I … um …”

“I want you to put them on after breakfast.”

The sternness in his voice. Dear God. Sigh and hang my head. “Yes, sir.”

“Why such formality, Elizabeth? Please, call me Edward.”

Bastard. “Okay.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re all settled in?” There’s a chipper in his voice that I hope he chokes on.

“Yes, the house is lovely.”

“Well, it’s the same house your mother grew up in so it should be.” He picks up his fork and starts moving things around on his plate, so I follow suit.

“Really, Mom was from Roswell?”

“Yes, your mother grew up in Roswell before your lowlife of a father took her away.”

Lift my head up and stare at him, but he’s looking at his food. Take a deep breath and put my fork down. “My father is not a lowlife.”

“Oh really?” He puts his fork down too and folds his arms in front of him, staring at me with a sick smile. “Where is he at the moment, Elizabeth?”

Bastard. The fucking bastard.

“Do, pray tell.”

Push my chair back and stand up. “I think if I leave now I can still make it to school before second period is over.”



--------------



I didn’t make it to second period, but I did make it to school part way through lunch. What took me a period and a half to get to school? I guess when you try walking heel to toe the entire way, it takes a while.

I won’t sit with Michael and Maria and Isabel because, well, Isabel is there. Isabel, who is tall and beautiful with perfect white teeth. Isabel, who is smarter than we all think, who is no longer a member of the trampy trio or their associated organization. Isabel, who Alex is madly in love with and was probably one of Max’s conquests. Isabel, who took my spot for lunch.

I won’t sit with Max because … hell, I’m sitting with Max.

Turn towards his tree and he’s sitting on the ground, knees drawn up, head in hands. No short skirt in sight. Should I or should I not go over there. He’s just sitting there, blocking out the rest of the world, his chest and shoulders rising and falling as he breathes. He’s taking really deep breaths. Boy, he’s thinking awfully hard. What’s on his mind?

The bell rings and everyone rises. But Max stays seated, breathing in and out, head in hands. After everyone is cleared out, he lifts his head and somehow, looks straight at me.

You’d think he would be surprised to see me, or happy or angry, but he isn’t. Or at least, he is hiding it well. No expression, his face is like stone.

The bell rings again and pretty soon more people will be piling in for the second shift of lunch. And I can’t do this, this staring match between us, not with other people around.

Hold my head up high, gaze forward, and start walking, straight past Max and into the building, not stopping once. And I know it was mean, rude, unbearably uncalled for, walking away from him, but I had to, because if I hadn’t, a part of me wanted to fall to my knees in front of him and beg for forgiveness for whatever sins I committed against him that is causing him to be so distanced from me.

But no, my brain tells me that I have more pride than that. My brain’s a liar.

So where is my safe haven for the moment? Where do I go to erase these stupid thoughts from my mind? The Eraser Room, of course. Get it? Erase? Eraser Room? Yeah, I’m a dork.

Pull open the door and stop. I can’t do anything but stare. Maybe if I hadn’t been so lost in my own mind, maybe then I would have heard the heavy breathing and the moaning. Or maybe if I had knocked first, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But alas, we are.

“Hi, Liz.” She pulls down her shirt and slides off the table. “We were just-”

“Yeah, I know.” I can guess as to what they were doing. I don’t freaking need the details.

“We’ll just be … going, then.” She grabs a hold of his hand and Alex finally opens his eyes and they hurry out. I think I caught Alex and Isabel in a very awkward moment. Oh will Alex be paying for this.

Close the door to the Eraser Room and walk away. Now that evil deeds are associated with it, I can no longer step foot inside.

Continue walking down the hall. I need some quietness to think things over. Somewhere to go.

I turn the corner and I see him, walking with his hands in his pockets at the other end of the hallway. And with no crowd of people this time, no sea of eyes, I walk right up to him. “Hi, Max.”

There’s not the huge gap between us this time. Only maybe a foot or so, like it should be.

He looks at me. “Why aren’t you in Chemistry?”

“Didn’t feel up to it?” I don’t really feel up for anything right now.

There’s a grin on his face. “It’s your favorite class.” How does he know these things?

“I know, I just …” I hear footsteps. He hears footsteps, so he grabs my hand and pulls me down the rest of the hallway and into these doors. Well, not really into and more so up against. There’s a small hallway of maybe three feet to this door that’s in the corner. So the good thing is, no one can see us unless they want to get to this door. The bad thing is that it is a pretty confined space, and Max has me squeezed up against the wall. Is it really a bad thing though?

Look up at Max and he’s staring down at me, staring down because he’s what, a whole foot taller than me? And this closeness, this confinedness, I should leave, I should move but his arms on either side of me kind of lock me in place. Either way, do I really want to?

There’s this silence, and the way he’s looking down at me, I have to look away. But his hand leaves my side, and it’s lifting my chin up slowly. He’s so gentle. It’s strange because I know he can be rough. I know he’s got so much strength, so much power. But no, he’s tender and he’s soft. “What’s wrong?”

This is where I give in and I just collapse all of my weight into the wall behind me. Everything comes rushing out, and I completely concede. “My life.”

“What happened?” He seems genuinely concerned. Don’t you just love how he seems genuinely concerned? “Did something happen?”

Sigh. At least he’s here. At least he’s willing to be around me. “Edward Harding is an ass.”

“What did he do?” Fingers are running through my hair and it’s okay, because that’s what it’s there for, right? To be played with and pulled on.

God, deep breaths. “He called my dad a lowlife. And he’s not. I realize he’s in a bad place right now, but he doesn’t deserve to be … he-he killed my mom … but I don’t … he loved my mom. Probably more than he loved me and I don’t know why he did what he did but-”

“Love makes people do crazy things. “

It sure does. And I still refuse to look at Max, or really hear the emotions behind his words. “And I love my dad.”

“I know you do.” Fingers running along my neck.

“Then why am I so scared of him?”

His hand drops and he steps a little away. And now I can look at him. “I don’t know. But maybe … a part of it is because you’re not so much afraid of him, but that you’re afraid you won’t be able to forgive him … but you really want to be able to.”

“I do. I know I really, really shouldn’t, but I do. I think I never really hated him … for what he did. I don’t think I held it against him at all. I just … Is that wrong? Does that make me a bad person?”

“No-”

“Because I feel like I’m a bad person.” I feel like I should be rotting in hell.

“You’re not-”

“Like I should hate him for what he did, but I don’t. I can’t.” Because I love my dad and love is unconditional, right? It’s crazy but it’s unconditional, right? Answer me, Max. Answer me. Love me. Save me.

I’m pulled into his arms and I’m safe. My tears wipe away on his shirt. When did I start crying? “It makes you an amazing person for you to be able to forgive him like that, to put things behind you and not be resentful or hold grudges, not live in the past.”

How does he do it? “How do you always say the right things?”

“It’s a gift.”

Ignore the way he’s smoothing my hair, ignore how warm he is and how good he makes me feel, and pull away. Small grin. “Thank you.”

His hand comes up to wipe away at one last tear. “Thank you.”

I clear my throat and have to put as much distance between us as I can get without completely running away from him. “What was this morning all about?”

“Um … I think you’ve had enough serious things to deal with today.”

He’s right. He’s always right. Serious stuff gangs up on you. Serious stuff messes with your head. I don’t like serious stuff. So … “It was nothing?”

“It wasn’t nothing. It’s … just a lot to handle and … we’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

I look at him and I just give him a smile. Even my eyes are smiling. I can feel them. He just does that to me. “I’ll just pretend I know what you’re talking about and agree.”

“Okay. So …” His eyes smile too. I wonder if he knows how much brighter his eyes are when they smile. I don’t think he does. “On a much lighter note, prom is coming up.”

Groan and grumble. “Yeah, I try not to think about that stuff.”

“Well I’ve been thinking about it …”

Max stops talking and I think I know why, because I can feel this person kind of shadowing over me from behind. It’s funny, because I never even heard her heels clanking as she walked up. “Max, I need to talk to you.”

“Pam, I’m in the middle of something here so why don’t you just turn your back and walk away? I know you can.” His eyebrows are evil and his face is hard as he stares past me.

She walks over to stand beside both Max and I, more towards Max though, so that Max doesn’t have to look over me to talk to her. “Please, Max. Don’t be like this.”

He doesn’t look at her. He’s looking at me. But I won’t look at him, no. I’m staring at Pam, who is looking at Max pretty pleadingly. She seems pretty damn insistent. “I need to talk to you and it’s really important.”

I knew Max would cave. He couldn’t hold his ground against a desperately insistent Pam. I’m surprised he didn’t give in sooner. I give in like nothing. Maybe it’s because, when you like someone, that’s all that matters. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He looks at me while he says this, but he’s pulling Pam inside the doors so that they can ‘talk.’

I can hear their muffled voices through the door. Max is trying to whisper but there’s too much anger in his voice. He told me he’d be right back. He told me not to go anywhere. So what do I do? I up and leave. After all, I hate being second best, if even that.

I went home but didn’t go through the front door with the off chance that the evil man might be inside. I don’t think he is though. His nice and shiny car is gone. But still, I climbed up onto my balcony and into my room. How did I get up there? There’s a decorating wooden ladder like thing with flowers growing on it, running down the wall somewhat near my window. It’s a little too convenient if you ask me. But then again, I’m just kind of paranoid like that, like the world is out to get me.

Like my dad is out to get me. Why am I so scared of my dad? Maybe Max is right. Maybe, what I really want to do is just forgive him. But can I? After all that he’s done? Oh the confusion.

Take a pair of scissors and snip, snip. Blow the side open and pull a piece of paper out.

Read the words in one quick skim over. Stop. Blink a few times and go through the letter again, slower to let everything sink in.

He misses me. He hopes that I’m doing good, adjusting well, and keeping up with my schoolwork. He’s sad that he can’t take care of me. He’s sorry for being a lousy father. He wants to see me but understands if I don’t want to see him. He loves me.

That’s basically all that I got from the letter. No evil twists to jack my life up more. No informing me of brothers or sisters that I don’t know about, or of evil family secrets or telling me I’m adopted. He misses me. And he’s sorry. That’s it.

I’ve hyped this letter up to be some type of death warrant or another thing to make Liz go crazy. But it’s not. He wants to see me. Because he misses me.

What can I do? I miss him too.



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 7:02 pm, edited 4 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty One:
-------------------------------------------------



Ten at night and the phone starts ringing. Reach my hand out blindly and bring the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”

“Liz?” The girly voice breaks through.

Zzz … “Yeah?”

“Hey. You weren't at school today so I was kind of worried.”

Zzz … “I'm fine, Maria.”

“Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

Zzz … “Thanks.”

“Okay. Um ... So ... is anything happening?”

Zzz… “Not really. Just ... tired.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you? I'll let you get back to sleep then. G'night, Liz.”

“G'night, Maria.” Zzz … No, see, normally I’m not a freak who goes to bed this early. I’ve just been really … tired. And this bed is just … really … comfy.

Ten-o-three and the phone starts ringing. “Hello?”

“Liz?” the boyish voice comes through.

“Yeah?” What do you want?

“Look, I just wanted to explain what you saw earlier today-”

And I have to stop him because if I don’t, he’ll start in on something that I don’t want to hear. “Alex, drop it. I'd rather not think about that right now ... or ever.”

He sighs over the line. “Okay, I just-I feel awkward about the whole incident.”

As he should. “How about we just pretend that it never happened?”

“Okay.” Another sigh comes from him. “Thank you.”

“So ...” and I can’t help myself. “You and Isabel, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it just … it … yeah.” I can hear the dopey smile that’s probably forming on his face.

And you know what? “I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks.” There’s a small pause. “I'm thinking of asking her to go to prom. What do you think I should do?”

Well, let’s see. “Ask her.”

“But-I mean … can I really go to prom with her?”

“Alex, if you can swap spit with her without shame, you can dance with her on a decked out gym floor.”

“Liz.” If I wasn’t awake before, Alex’s whining surely did do it for me.

“Okay, okay, I'll stop.”

“So …” this is when he tries to change the subject, “how many guys have asked you to go to the prom?”

“None, Alex. I'm not exactly a guy magnet here.” Oh, look, the low self-esteem just gushes out.

“Liz, you're as cute as a button.” Which is something you would say to a puppy.

“Yeah,” nod my head mockingly, even though he can’t see me. “Sure thing.”

“If Max asked you, would you say yes?”

“What?” Where did that come from? Max? Prom?

“If he asked you to go to the prom, would you say yes?”

I think about this for, oh, not even a split second. “No.”

“Flat out?”

“Flat out.” No question about it. Max would never, ever ask me. He’s got too many girls falling at his feet. He doesn’t need me as well. Well, not openly, anyway.

“That's kind of harsh, Liz.” I know. But so is life, Alex.

There’s a clicking noise, signaling me that someone else is trying to reach me, at ten twelve. “I've got another call on the other line. Hold on. Okay, Alex?”

“Actually, my parents just got home, so we're about to have late night dinner. I'll just see you tomorrow, okay?” Oh, dinner at the Whitman’s, those were always far and few between.

Or maybe it was just because I was there. “Yeah. Good night, Alex.”

Click over and we go through this gruesome process all over again. “Hello?”

“Can I talk to Liz, please?” A girly, yet kind of heavy voice, one that I don’t recognize straight off the bat.

“This is her.”

“Oh, hi, Liz. This is Isabel, Isabel Guerin.” As if I would mistake her with another Isabel.

“Hi, Isabel." Why are you calling me?

“Oh, I just called to see ... um ... you weren't in English class so I wanted to see if you needed the homework or anything."

"Um ... sure. Thanks, Isabel."

"Oh, just read the first three chapters and be ready for a quiz."

"Okay, I'll make sure I do that." I've already read the entire book because I'm that much of a nerd, but we won't tell her that.

"Oh, okay." Her voice gets quiet.

There's an awkward pause. "Was there anything else?"

"Well, you and Alex are close and all and I was just wondering because prom is coming up and I thought that Alex and I would go together, but he hasn't asked me yet and I wasn't sure if he was going to," she says it all very quickly and in one big gush, but you kind of get the idea.

And it's just ridiculous how they do this to themselves. "Isabel, he'll ask you."

"But what if he doesn't?" She's whining. I don't think I take too kindly to whining. "I mean, he's just so hot and cold with me."

"If he doesn't, then you ask him. I guarantee you a yes."

"Really?" she sounds oh-so hopeful.

Is she seriously asking me this? "Yes."

"Wow. Thanks, Liz. So are you going with Max to prom?"

Wait ... what? "No, where does everyone get that idea?"

"Well, I just thought that you, you know ... liked Max."

Silence.

What? How? "Where would you get that?" Am I getting a bit hostile? Because I know I kind of sound it.

"I just thought that ... he didn't ask you to go to the prom?"

"No, because he won't ask me." Never in hell will he ask me.

"Well, I heard-"

Prom is hyped up to be this magical night with the perfect dress, perfect shoes, perfect makeup and perfect hair for the perfect date. And Max deserves perfect. Only, I don't exactly perfect up well in that sense. That's something more suitable for ... Pam. And no matter how much I hate it, Pam is perfect arm-candy. So I guess it's all fine then, because, "Max has Pam."

"Liz, Pam isn't ... she's ... you haven't heard yet?"

Did she get run over by a train? Oh the evil thoughts running rampant in my head. "Heard what?"

And to add to the suspense and to interrupt my life further, the door bell rings.

"Sorry, someone is at the door, Isabel. I'll have to call you back."

"Okay. Bye, Liz."

I head downstairs in time for Juanita to open up the door for someone to walk in.

Well, speak of the devil. “Pam.”

Juanita nods her head towards me and walks away through some door and I walk up to the blondie as she turns towards me.

And I'm faced with something that I never thought I would ever see, a make-up-less, red and puffy-eyed, tear-stain-cheeked Pam, one who knows what a mess she is and is trying to smile at me. It's a scary thing.

"Pam, is something wrong?"

"I just came to say goodbye." Again, she tries to smile a bit.

"Why? Where are you going?" I take a step closer to her.

"Far, far away." She laughs and I try to offer her a smile. And she's staring at me before I'm pulled into this hug, with me standing completely still. "Take good care of him, please. For me? He’s been hurting so much lately and he needs someone to help take away his pain. And I can’t, not anymore." She stops whispering in my ear and pulls away, taking a step back.

"Pam," shake my head and just stare at her undolled face, "I don’t understand."

"I wasn't enough for him. I knew that. He knew that. But he's a great guy. He really is. He's a little hard on the outside, but that's only because he has to be."

"Pam ... who are you-" It's funny that I even try to question who she is referring to, even though I know exactly who she's talking about.

"I wasn't enough for him, but you ... " she steps closer to me, and I resist the urge to step back. "You're what he's been waiting for." Her hand comes up and touches my cheek and I just feel so completely uncomfortable and confused right now.

Shake my head again, "Pam-"

"I have to go." She takes a few more steps back. "He’s waiting." She turns and heads straight out the door, runs across the lawn, across the street, and straight up to the passenger side of his car. He's just standing there, leaning against the side of his shiny car, hands in his pockets. The darkness shadows his stony features, but the light of the streetlamp is more than enough as he lifts his head slowly, his eyes hold onto mine for a second, before he turns away, gets into his car, and drives off, down the dark street, with a teary faced Pam beside him.

Bite my lips, trying to keep my mind in check, close the door and step back. For all his hard front and touch-me-not attitude, his eyes gave off a sad heart-aching anger that shined clear. And it was all for Pam. It made me wish I was the one leaving, not her, just so he can keep her in his life. God knows I don't mean nearly as much.

"Elizabeth."

Wipe at my cheeks, sniffle, and plaster a smile on my face before I turn around and brace myself for another encounter.

"What are you doing at the door? Proper girls don't receive house calls after eight o'clock. It's unladylike." If his nose rose any higher, his neck would snap. If only.

Bow my head. "Yes, sir."

"You should be asleep. Dark circles would only draw more attention to those hideous eyes of yours."

My head snaps up before I slowly lower it again. The looks I get from him just creep me out far too much. "Yes, sir."

"Off to bed this instant," he orders.

I turn and head up the stairs, my head lowered the entire way. "Yes, sir."



--------------



Morning was just a repeat of lectures on my inadequacies and improper mannerisms. Which is why I'd rather not recount it. Not that his words didn't stick with me on into school.

|| "Why can't you be more like your mother?" ||

What? Dead?

I know ... bad daughter with her evil thoughts. But the fact is, she's gone. My mother died. I don't have a mom anymore. Whoa ...

"So … prom is coming up."

Lift my head and just look at her, shake the thoughts out of my head.

"Word has it that Max is planning on asking you to the prom."

My nose scrunches. "What for?"

"Like it isn’t obvious?" And I see her back as she turns and walks away from me.

That was Maria. And Maria ends the conversation with that, not just to confuse the hell out of me, but also because history class is over and we don’t want to be late for our next class, now do we?

But don’t fret. We do see her again come lunchtime. Because, at the machines, her and Isabel kind of gang up on me and lead me over to their tree to sit with them and play nice.

Yeah, see, Isabel took my spot, but it looks like I’m taking Michael’s spot.

Where is Michael? Paying a visit to the ‘Tree of Knowledge.’ Sigh. That’s where I’d want to be too. Max doesn't look sad, but he feels sad. Strange? Yes.

“So, Liz. Have you found your dress for prom, yet?”

My eyes go to Maria as she stuffs her face with more cheese puffs and I shake my head. “Oh, I’m not going.”

“Are you serious?” Isabel twists the top of her nail polish back on.

I grip my nifty little water bottle and shake my head again. “Yeah, proms just aren’t my thing.”

Maria barely finishes chewing before she starts again. “Well, everyone is kind of just expecting you to go …" her voice lowers "... with Max.”

“What?”

Isabel puts her two cents in. “Yeah, now that Pam’s gone …”

My head lowers and I have to think back over yesterday's incident while taking in all the gab queens say to each other.

“You know, I heard she got pregnant.”

“No way.”

“Do you think it is Max’s?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it could be. Or maybe she cheated on him and that’s why she was sent away.”

Wait ... my head snaps up and I enter into their conversation again. “Max and Pam were together?” I knew that. I mean, I kind of, sort of, had an inkling. But it never seemed like they were together, together, like it was official or something

Both just stare at me while I wait for my answer. “Liz, you have to go to prom.”

And I repeat, "Max and Pam were together?"

Isabel looks away and I stare at Maria for an answer. "Well ... kind of."

"What do you mean, kind of?" What? Were they just fuck buddies? Because, that, I already pretty much guessed.

"Liz, please go to prom?" And Isabel tries to turn the conversation again. And me, I just ... forget it.

“No, I don't ..." Why should this upset me? Pam is perfect. Max is perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It's all great. I knew this already. I sensed it. I knew something was there between them. "I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Duh … Max.”

I pretend to not hear that suggestion. “Maybe I can ask Alex.”

"Taken." And Isabel smiles.

Who else? “Kyle?” I mean, he’s kind of annoying, but it’s just one night.

"Tess’s."

"Sean? I mean, he’s not so bad …" Well, since he straightened up.

"Liz, honestly, if you asked him, he’d say yes. But I wouldn’t if I were you, for his sake." Her eyes bulge at the last bit.

What? Am I that hideous of a person to be seen with? Well, in that case, “I guess I’m just not going then.”

“Please go, Liz. Please?” And it's Maria who begs this time.

"How about Brad?" Have we not mentioned Brad? That's because he's not important. Or rather, he's just another member of the mass of Mighty Comets. They all look the same, muscles in a letter jacket. Brad's a sheep.

Maria goes, "I think he’s going with Courtney."

Isabel goes, "No, Courtney’s going with Tommy."

And so I go, "so, no one’s asked Brad?"

"Liz," Maria talks slowly, "there’s Max."

Ignoring her, "so … Brad-"

"Liz, why don’t you ask Max?" comes Michael's voice suddenly as he pops up from out of nowhere.

And that's where I put my foot down. "Look, despite what you or anyone else may think, Max and I aren’t going to prom together. He’s not going to ask me and I’m not going to ask him. And that’s that."



--------------



Yeah, five minutes later I was proven utterly, utterly wrong with Max catching me in the hall before chemistry. "Liz, do you want to go to prom … with me?"

Eyebrow raised and staring at him.

"You can say no if you want. You don't have to say yes. I mean, it would mean a lot to me if-"

"No." The word just came from me. I didn't even really think it, it just ...

"Okay." And he turns and walks straight into the classroom.

Stare after him and he just goes straight to his seat. Yeah, I’m an ass, such an ass.



--------------



That dejected look on his face stuck with me all day. It did. And not just because I’ve like, fallen so hard for the guy … wait … yeah, it’s because I’ve fallen so hard for the guy.

Forget that him and Pam were apparently an item, forget that Pam will mean more to him than I ever will, forget the whole incident with Pam, forget Pam all together as I climb down from my balcony at night as soon as I see his car driving up to his house and hurry over while he waits outside his driver side door.

"Max." Shy smile.

"Hey. That’s kind of convenient." He points over to my alternate way out of the house from my balcony.

"Oh, yeah," smile a bit before I get serious, "look, I’m sorry I said no."

"No, no … it’s … um-it’s fine. If you didn’t want to go with me, that’s your decision." His arms cross over his chest and he leans back against his car. Mr. Cool. Mr. Suave. That's why all the girls want him. And apparently, Pam did get him.

"So, who are you going with?"

Stare at him for the second it takes until my mind gets back on track. "I just … I don’t know if I want to go at all."

"You should, Liz. I mean, it’s the prom, the memories we’ll be making." The sarcasm kind of oozes out, but I think he was partly serious.

Shrug. "I don’t know. Formal dances aren’t my thing."

He shifts a bit and I think he's a little closer to me now. "They aren’t mine either, but I have to be there."

"Why do you have to be there?"

He shrugs. "Everyone kind of expects me to be."

Huh ... The public eye means so much. Perfect Pam and perfect Max make the perfect couple. Well, "I say, screw everyone else. If you don’t want to be there, then you shouldn’t have to be."

And he's smiling. It's nice. "Alas, politics don’t work that way."

"The year is almost over, Max. And after that, we don’t have to deal with high school politics anymore."

"Yeah." He straightens up and sits down, on the ground, out of nowhere. He looks up at me and pats the ground beside him. "Sit, talk with me."

And I do as he says. Why? Because I love being around him, no matter how much this Pam thing is killing me.

"What are you thinking about?" his voice is quiet and I look up to his eyes staring at me. I hate how it seems like he's actually seeing me, especially because he probably looked at Pam the same way.

Stare back down at the ground. "What happened to Pam?"

He doesn't answer right away but I refuse to look up, because I know he's looking at me like that. "She decided to go away."

"Far, far away?" Just like she said?

"Yeah."

"Why?" Why did she go away but her family still seemingly lives in the house, just not her. What's going on?

"I don’t want to talk about Pam."

Because he misses her probably. Because he can't live without her. Because he loved her that much. I smile, because if I didn't, I'd probably cry. "She told me to take good care of you for her." I look at him to see his reaction. "She says you’ve been hurting a lot lately."

He just blinks a few times. "Did she?"

"Yes. She says you need someone to help take away the pain." I watch him, but his eyes just stare right back at me. It's kind of nerve wrecking. But he won't say anything, just sits there, leaning back on his hands, not saying a thing. Deep breath, "do you, Max?"

"Do I what?"

"Need someone?" Should I even go there? Be Pam's replacement? At least, trying to be there, even though I could never mean nearly as much to him.

He sits up. He's closer to me, his eyes still staring back. "Are you offering?"

"That depends." Is he going to let me?

"On what?"

Deep breath. "On whether you’ll accept it this time."

I watch him blink a few times before he answers, "This time? When else did you offer?"

Pause and think ... "I … um … I …"

"Liz."

My head spins ...

"Liz?"

"I just ..." shake my head and the dizziness passes. "Sorry, I've been a bit dizzy lately."

He frowns at me and I look away, picking up a leaf off the ground nearby.

I hear him sigh before he reaches out for me. "Let me see your hand."

"Okay ..." Place my hand in his. He turns it over, his thumb running across my pulse. And I just stare at him. You know you've fallen hard when just his touch is enough to make you breathless. I'm hopelessly pathetic.

"I’m going to tell you your future, okay?" He's got this weird, almost goofy grin on his face, which is so out of place from the smooth talking charmer that he can be.

All I can do is smile. "Okay."

"Okay, well, it says right here," he points to something in my palm that I don't see at all, "that … diamonds are in your future, so we’ll put a ‘d’ down," and he writes a 'd' on the sidewalk with chalk.

Wait ..."Where did you get chalk from?"

"Oh, it was in my pocket." And he focuses back on my palm. "And … um-oh, seven is your lucky number, so ‘7’," and he writes it down and continues. "A big day is coming up for you in three days."

"Prom?"

He nods his head. "Prom. So, we’ll put a three down." And a ‘3’ goes on the ground. "And, um, your favorite superhero is Wonderwoman. ‘W’. There." And he writes it down and lets go of my hand, leaning back with a smile.

I stare down at my fortune:

d 7

3 W

I look back up at his smirking face. "That’s it?"

"That’s it." He nods his head.

I shake mine. "I don’t get it."

"You will." He winks before he leans forward and his lips brush mine quickly.

My eyes close briefly, but it ends way too quickly, "Max-"

"Look." He points to the sky. "The moon."

I turn and look towards the sky. The stars are sparkling and the moon is full. It's nice.

He stands up and pulls me up with him. "Walk me to my door?" It's odd that he even asks because he's got his arm around me and is pulling me with him. Didn't really give me much choice. We walk the few steps to his door and he stops to face me.

"Good night, Max." I smile.

He smirks. It's oddly assuring. He holds something out for me. "Here. Finish it for me."

He hands me the chalk and I just look at it. "Finish what?"

Oh, the smirks. "You’ll see. Sweet dreams, Liz."

And he goes inside.

Sigh and shake my head, starting back toward the Harding house but something stops me and I turn back.

Walk back over to the sidewalk and look at my stupid fortune again. But, there’s something else drawn around it now.

----------/ \-------------
--------/-----\-----------
------/---------\----------
-----/--d----7--\---------
----/--------------\-------
---/-----3---W----\------
---\----------------/------
-----\___/ \___/-------

I stare at it for a second and this grin creeps up my face. Take the chalk, and finish it, like he wanted, drawing a little plus sign in the middle. Drop the chalk and walk away, across the street, smiling. I swear, all that that boy does just seems to get to me, in a good way.



-----------------------------
-----------------------------


-----___---___--------
---/------\/------\-------
---\----M---E----/------
----\------+-----/-------
------\--L--P--/--------
--------\-----/---------
----------\-/-----------



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 2:23 am, edited 5 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Two:
-------------------------------------------------



|| “Where does Mom go to all the time?” I interrupted what is normally our father-daughter quiet reading time. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know.

“I don’t know, honeybear. I don’t know.” He doesn’t even look up from his paper, just keeps reading. The paper’s written in a foreign language. I think it’s German. Yeah, Dad was talented like that.

I closed my book and placed it down on the coffee table. “I don’t like it when Mom leaves like this.”

“I don’t like it either.” He turned the page and just kept on reading.

“I hope she never comes back.” I said it with enough indignation that he finally looked up and put his paper down.

“Don’t say things like that about your mother.” He had that stern voice that all dads seem to possess. As he should because he was a dad. He was my dad.

And moms were supposed to have mother-like qualities. “Mothers don’t abandon their families and they don’t leave to go on vacations by themselves.”

“Your mother isn’t abandoning you. She just needs to get away sometimes.” He unfolded his paper again. He didn’t want to talk about this. He never wanted to discuss her, but I did.

And I finally voiced what thoughts I’ve had for the longest time. “Let’s leave her, like she leaves us.”

“Honey, we couldn’t live without your mother. I can’t live without her.” And he put his paper down, got up, and went to bed.
||


Memories like these just pop up in my head. That was the longest time she had ever spent away from us, six weeks. For six weeks I was without a mother and I hated her for it. But he didn’t. She would come back and it was just like she never left. Until she needed to get away from the stresses of life again. Sometimes, she didn’t even bother unpacking her bags.

Maybe that’s why it never hit me as hard as it should have. Maybe that’s why I never mourned for her. Because all of the memories that I cherish and hold dear to me, are memories of Dad. Rarely is she ever in them. She didn’t mean nearly as much to me as Dad did. Dad was my parent. She was just a lady who lived with us every now and then, a lady who I could have done without. But not to Dad, she wasn’t. Daddy needed her. And that little fact just mixes my head up and causes things to not make sense. Dad loved Mom. Then why did he do what he did? What made him kill her? What made him leave me alone to be this warped Orphan Annie with an even more twisted Daddy Warbucks?

“Your report card came in the mail the other day. You’re quite the smart little girl.” I put my fork down and look up at him, at his end of the dining table. Not only did the fact that he was speaking to me during breakfast, the time in which I am to be completely silent, shock me, but the fact that he was actually complimenting me just blew me away.

Um … “Thank you.”

He picks up his glass and swishes it a bit before he takes a sip, staring straight into my eyes while he does this. It would have unnerved me had he not done this each and every meal of each and every day. He puts his glass down and folds his hands on the table. “I am still debating whether or not that is a good thing.”

What? “Why wouldn’t it be a good thing?”

And this is when he begins his lecture on my inadequacies and how different I am from my mother. “Intelligence is a good quality. It makes you interesting to talk to at dinner parties. But too much intelligence makes you intimidating. And proper girls shouldn’t be intimidating. They should be attractive, interesting, and genteel.”

I’ll keep that in mind, asshole. Sigh. There’s nothing I can do. While I’m here in his house, I’m under his control. And what he wants is for me to be Elizabeth Harding, a blue eyed, dark haired, miniature Anna.

I nod my head, lower it and excuse myself from the table. Screw breakfast.



--------------



Alex drove me to school. It was scary. See, normally, Alex drives like a grandma. But today, he seems to have been possessed by a speed demon. His reason for being so, he would not say. However, they are serving pancake-on-a-stick today for breakfast. They are a strange concoction, they are. But neat.

Let’s just say, Alex could eat a week’s worth of lunch money on pancake-on-a-stick day. He’s amusing like that, Alex is. Lovable, adorable, but amusing above all.

He parks the car and jets for the cafeteria. Isabel is holding the door open and he grabs her on the way in. Apparently, she is also aware of his passion for pancake-on-a-stick. Isabel ended up asking Alex to the prom. Alex said yes.

Maria and Michael are standing at the front of the school, near the bike racks. He’s leaning forward and saying something to her and she’s giggling away. You can see her blush all the way from here. Maria asked Michael to the prom. Michael said yes.

A red convertible pulls up and parks beside me. And out of it pops Kyle “The Mighty Comet” Valenti. Tess comes out of the passenger side and he hurries up to hold her hand and walk her in. Tess asked Kyle to prom. Kyle said yes.

Walking ahead of them is Max. Max with his goldish yellow backpack and his jean jacket that smells like him, his head up high with a wide stride, broad shoulders, and a confident air about him. Max asked me to prom. I said no.

And across the way Brad stands, watching Tess and Kyle walk into the building together. And once they’re in, he grabs his bag and starts in on his own. His strides seem as wide and his shoulders as broad as Max’s. And it suddenly occurs to me that Brad doesn’t have anyone to go to prom with yet. I follow Brad inside.



--------------



First period, nose in my History book.

Second period, nose in my Calculus book.

Third period, nose in my English book.

Come lunch, I forgot to bring a book with me, so I was forced to sit there and look interested as the two wavy haired blondes gab away.

“So Liz … prom is here and you’re still … no dress? No shoes? No date?” Isabel looks up and shakes her bottle of nail polish a bit.

Dude, I give in. It’s supposed to be a magical night to remember, right? “Maybe I should ask Max.”

Isabel and Maria glance at each other before they look at me. And Maria offers me this sympathetic smile. “Max asked Kathleen Topolsky last period.”

“Yeah. She wouldn’t stop talking about it.” Isabel throws her comment in while she rolls her eyes.

I wouldn’t stop talking about it either, if I were her. Kathleen is a drama chick. She’s a JV cheerleader. Dirty blonde with green eyes. And most importantly, she’s a junior. And being a junior, hell, being a girl and being asked by Maxwell Evans to prom is something to brag about. And to be smart enough to say yes too.

Quick glance over at Max’s tree and Michael is sitting with him. Michael has his sketchbook in his lap. Michael’s eyes are glued to his sketchbook. Max has a book in his lap too. But Max’s eyes are staring over to the other side of the quad, at the jock table. But more importantly, at Kathleen, with her dirty blonde hair, her green eyes, and that short skirt.

Look away and start packing my things back into my bag. Seems like Pam was wrong, he’s already found someone else to replace her. And it isn’t me. Zip it shut and stand up, and I can’t stop my eyes from looking back over at him to catch him looking at her again, but he isn’t. He’s staring at me, a stupid grin on his face.

He almost had me eating out of his hand with the whole sidewalk chalk bit. And I nearly caved, so willingly.

|| “I’m claiming her.” ||
|| “Do you really want to go, Liz?” ||
|| “You wouldn’t be, if you knew the truth.” ||

Shake my head and will the wooziness to go away. The dizzy spells have been lasting longer than normal lately.

It passes and I open my eyes to see Max still staring my way, willing me to come over to him. And maybe I should. I always feel better when I’m around him. Nice and warm. Take one step towards him before I see a pulled back quaff of dirty blonde hair walking his way with her long legs and green eyes.

I turn and walk away, out of the sunlight and into the empty hallways. Make two rights before I make it into the restroom. The bell rings and I stand there, staring into the mirror. A makeup-less face with plain brown hair and plain brown eyes. A height that only dwarfs and garden gnomes would envy. Turn sideways and I don’t exactly have a figure to die for.

|| “You’re a really pretty girl, Lizzie. Really pretty.” ||

My eyes squeeze shut and I feel queasy. My mad dash for the toilet doesn’t even leave me enough time to lift the seat up before the contents of my stomach maneuver its way back up my throat.

The worst part, I hadn’t really eaten anything yet. Who knew that nothing would taste so bad.

Flush and go back over to the mirror. God, if I looked bad before, I look awful now. Eyes red, skin pale, my mouth is horrible. God knows if I’ll even be able to rinse the taste away. Turn on the faucet and try my best to fix up a bit.

Footsteps echo in and I splash water on my face, and just hope to god it isn’t Maria or Isabel or Tess. Or even worse, Kathleen.

My hair gets pulled back and I lift my head up, staring at the reflection in the mirror. My eyes water a bit more before I look back down into the sink. “This is the girls’ bathroom, Max.”

“I know.” He lets go of my hair. “I was waiting for you outside but I thought … it sounded like you were-”

“Puking my guts out?” Wry smile before I hunch back over and rinse my mouth out. He holds my hair back again.

Straighten back up and my face only seems to be getting worse. Frown and my eyes only water more.

“Here.” Turn towards him a bit and he’s lifting me up onto the table.

“Stop, Max.” I try to squirm down.

“Stay still.” He wets a paper towel and starts brushing at my face.

He’s soft. He’s gentle. Caring and warm. But I don’t want him to be. I don’t want him to be in here. He doesn’t need to be in here. He doesn’t need to be around me because, “I look horrible.”

I know he’s thinking the same thing too because he doesn’t exactly deny my comment. But my head goes down on his shoulder and one of his hands is on my neck, the other rubbing my back. It’s making me feel a lot better.

“Do you want me to take you home?” It’s like a small murmur in my ear and all I can do is shake my head. My arms go over his shoulders and around his neck.

“If you aren’t feeling well, you should go home and rest.” He’s pushing but he should know that I’m stubborn. Besides, he won’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. Because, right now, I’m fragile and frail. Or at least, that’s how he’s treating me. And it’s fine, because I’ll be frail and Max will protect me. He’ll hold me and I’ll be cocooned, safe and warm. And Max will protect me. Max always protects me.

|| “Did he hurt you?” ||
|| “Do you want me to help you?” ||

Squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath.

“What’s wrong, Liz?”

Shake my head again and lay my cheek down. Eyes squeeze harder and I just try to breath. “I’m just dizzy. It’ll pass.”

I can feel him rubbing my back again and the dizziness starts going away slowly. It passes and I sit up, pushing him away. He doesn’t need me throwing up on him if the nausea starts up again.

“Does this happen often?”

I shrug because I don’t really trust my voice right now. Slowly and ever so slightly, so that my world doesn’t completely spin off its axis, I slide off of the table, and inch my way out of the bathroom and past Max. “I have to get to class.”

“We’re just working on equilibrium. You know that stuff.” It’s a good thing Max is using his twelve inch voice because I can probably hear things ten fold right now. “Go home and rest?”

Shake my head. “I have class.” And I have to get out of the bathroom. The echoing is just …

“You’re not feeling well. I’ll take you home.”

I think I’ve stopped listening to him. I just keep walking.

“Liz.” And he stops me right outside the door. “This’ll make you feel better.” He presses me into a corner and his hands go to the sides of my head. “Close your eyes and just concentrate on deep breaths. It’s just breathing and pressure points, okay?”

Do as he says and take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. And pretty soon, I can feel it. Like those Vapor Rub commercials where you can see the stuff going through their body and making them feel all hunky dory again? It’s like that, only better, because I’m breathing in Max.

Open my eyes and I feel better now. My eyes aren’t watery anymore, but Max’s are, kind of.

“Better?”

Nod my head and back away from him, out of my corner. I’m claustrophobic, did I tell you?

The bell rings and I look at Max. Pretty soon, girls are going to be piling in through here and I need to get to class.

Max, he’s offering me this smile. It’s forced though.

Back away slowly. “I have to go. I … have to catch Brad before class starts.”

Still with his forced smile.

“I want to ask Brad to prom. I like Brad. He’s a nice guy.”

Max just nods with his forced smile again. And I just walk away. What did I expect from him? To get angry? To get jealous? To demand that I go to prom with him and no one else?

My life isn’t that kind of fairytale.



--------------



So, let me tell you about Brad. Remember Doug? The macho man who got sent to boot camp or whatever? Yeah, Brad took Doug’s spot as captain of the football team, even though, you know, it’s not football season, they still, apparently, need a captain. Brad is also in my English class and my Health class. Brad is a pretty smart guy. Brad is nice and quiet. Brad is tall and quite handsome. Brad has been kind of uneasy and just staring at me since I said hi to him all two minutes ago.

I didn’t catch him before class started. So I caught him afterwards. And we’re standing here in the hallway together, him staring at me. “Brad?”

“I-um-Liz. Hi.” He’s got this deep smooth voice. Tall and handsome. The perfect package, right?

Except that he keeps pulling on the straps of his backpack and shifting his feet every now and then. “Is something wrong, Brad?”

“No, it’s just … you’re actually talking … to me?”

Look at him for a bit and nod my head slowly. “Yeah.”

“Wow. I mean … I just … let me start over?” He’s fumbling over his words. It’s cute.

I smile. “Okay.”

“Hi. I’m Bradley Adams. You can call me Brad.” He sticks his hand out and offers me a grin.

I offer him one right back. “Elizabeth Ph-Pa-Ha … call me Liz.”



--------------



I went home and went straight to my room. After all, prom is kind of tonight and Brad is kind of picking me up in a couple of hours. Because Brad and I are kind of going to prom together. Which works out great with me asking him and all, because Brad already has tickets. And they stopped selling tickets earlier this week, or so he told me. So I wouldn’t have been able to go, except that I’m going with Brad now. Yeah. Fun stuff.

“Elizabeth.”

Groan, grumble, moan. Turn back around, smile and curtsy slightly. “Yes?”

“There is some type of formal tonight that your school is sponsoring.” He says it like I don’t know.

“I’m well aware of the fact.” But I have to keep up a pleasant façade, because proper girls don’t scowl.

“And you are being escorted by Maxwell?”

I just shake my head at that and I think he goes livid.

“Why are you not being escorted by Maxwell?”

Sigh and start turning away. “I have to go get ready.”

“Juanita will help you.” His tone tells me he is still mad. He just has to look at Juanita and she goes scampering to follow me up to my room, her head bowed. I think she’s scared of him too.

My entire outfit, right down to the jewelry is laid out for me on my bed and Juanita has me sit at my vanity while she does my hair. We’re both silent because Edward Harding is right downstairs. And Edward Harding isn’t in a good mood. But after a while, we can hear shuffling and then the door slam shut and we both finally breathe again.

“God, that man.” Juanita makes a face and I agree with her. There is something really wrong with the guy. “Why did you not go with Maxwell?”

I shrug. Why didn’t I go with Max?

The telephone rings. Juanita goes to answer it and then hands it to me.

Hold it to my ear and Juanita goes back to putting my hair in an up-do. “Hello?”

“Liz, this is Nancy Parker.” Her voice is sweet over the phone. And I had completely forgotten about her.

You can’t keep the smile from my voice. “Hi, Nancy. How are you?”

“Jeff and I are doing fine. So ... is this Ed Harding guy nice to you?”

There’s a pause as I think about how I’m going to answer. In the end, I opt for the truth. “Not really. He scares me.”

“God, these child custody people, I could kill them. If you don't want to be with him then why are they making you?” She sounds angry and you can hear her huffing and puffing over the phone. And once she’s calm again, “We’ve been visiting with your father.”

Huh …

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Me? Mind? “No, not at all.”

“He misses you, Liz.”

Huh …

“Liz?” Her voice gets softer and sweeter. “Do you think … maybe, you’d want to visit him? Next week, maybe? Or is that too soon?”

Do I really want to do that? See him? Talk to him? “Okay. Next week is good.” Juanita gets done with my hair and starts on my makeup. “Nancy, I’m a bit busy right now. I’m going to have to let you go.”

“Okay, then. We’ll make the arrangements. We miss you and we love you, Liz.”

“Me too. Bye.” Hang up the phone and lean back while Juanita adds more gunk to my face.

Huh …



--------------



You know how you imagine prom, an overly crowded gym with tacky crepe paper decorations, loud music and people getting their groove on in the middle of a makeshift dance floor?

Yeah, it’s nothing like that. It’s a nicer and more formal event than I thought.

In fact, it’s not even in the gym. It’s in this nice big ballroom area in some big building down town. Probably why the tickets cost so damn much. Not that I paid for them or anything. I offered. But Brad is too nice of a guy.

We walk in, my arm in his. Brad makes for amazing arm candy, if you didn’t know. We find a table. He pulls out my seat for me, and I sit there while he goes and gets me punch. He sits down and I sip my punch while we wait and watch the other couples come in.

Other couples start heading out to the dance floor so Brad asks me to dance. I take his hand, and we dance.

“You look gorgeous.” I just smile because he’s told me that like maybe ten times now.

“You know who else looks gorgeous?” He pulls his eyes away from the couple across the way from us. “Tess.”

He blushes. And yes, I have noticed that his eyes tend to turn towards the curly blonde orphan a few too many times while she dances with Kyle.

“Yeah. She looks amazing, doesn’t she?”

And I just smile. “You have a thing for Tess.”

“I just … I … no …” He’s fumbling over his words again. He’s adorable. “Maybe … just a little.”

“You should ask her to dance.”

And I think my comment shocks him. “What? I … she … I couldn’t … I mean … she … Kyle.”

We get closer to the speakers and I have to lean closer for him to hear. “I’d choose you over Kyle Valenti any day of the week.”

It makes him smile. It’s so easy to boost a guy’s ego. He leans down. “Thanks, Liz. That means a lot.” The music changes and a country song comes on. People on the dance floor start doing the electric slide. I look at Brad. He’s looking back at me. And we both mutually agree to sit this one out.

Grab onto his arm as he maneuvers us through people and tables. And I’m all smiles. I don’t know. This is fun. The dressing up and the music and the goofy people dancing. Fun.

Brad stops and I look up to see him walking back towards our table without me. Because Max has my hand now and he’s leading me back to the dance floor. The music goes to a slow song and his arms go around my waist.

I look up and smile. Max looks nice. He smells nice. My arms snake up to his shoulders. “Where’s Kathleen?”

Max has this lopsided smile while he shrugs. “I told her to keep Brad company for me.”

Glance over at the table, and surely enough, Kathleen is sitting in my seat next to Brad, gabbing away with him.

Look back towards Max, rolling my eyes. But he’s not smiling anymore. He says something and I have to lean in to hear him, because the music is loud. Not just to get closer to him. The closeness is just a bonus.

“I said you look breathtaking.” His voice is deeper than normal. And that he’s here on the dance floor with me instead of his date, makes me think that maybe …

I’m such a sucker for him. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The song doesn’t end, but he takes my hand and pulls me through these curtains. It’s dark, but hands go on my hips and I’m drawn up to him.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Every part of me is touching every part of him. It’s making me feel a bit hot, a bit tipsy. His breath smells sweet. And I have to pull away. “Max, are you drunk?”

I can see him shake his head. “It’s so confusing with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he takes a deep breath and he leans closer to me, so he can whisper. “I don’t know where I stand with you. And I don’t know what we are … but I know we’re something at least.”

It’s funny, because I didn’t even know that we were at least something. So “how do you know that?”

“Because I can do this,” he leans in further and his lips are on mine. He tastes sweet. I feel his tongue brush my lip and I have to pull back, swallowing hard.

“Max …”

“But you always look sad or confused afterwards.” He’s shaking his head at me. “And I don’t want you that way.”

I don’t know what to say. I can hear another song start up and he pulls me to him again. “Dance with me?” he asks but we’re already dancing.

Sigh and lean closer to his ear. Max is right. And, “it’s because I am confused.”

He slows his pace down a little. I think he’s thinking. “Are you sad too?”

Sad? “Sometimes.”

His voice is soft, but I hear him all the same. “Do I make you sad?”

Bite my lip. “Sometimes.”

He pulls back but his arms stay around me. “I don’t want to, Liz. You mean the world to me.” His words … he’s crazy.

I shake my head. “Months ago I wasn’t even in your life. I can’t mean anything to you.”

“You’ve always been in my life, always been a part of me. It just took me a while to find you, that’s all.”

And I have to laugh. The Casanova bit. “It’s no wonder girls trip over themselves to get to you. Always the charmer.”

“I’m not just feeding you lines. I’m serious.” And he starts giving me this stern look, just to try to prove his point.

Well, so am I. “Girls fall at your feet. You can have anything and anyone you want-”

“I want you.”

Shake my head and stare down at my dress. “I’m not your type.”

“You’re exactly my type.” A finger lifts my chin to look at him. “I care about you.”

But I turn away and try to smile. “Now, now. You might break Pam’s heart … wherever she is.”

“Please, just leave her alone.” He sounds so desolate, so alone.

It just makes me wonder, “Why? What happened?”

“She’s got a raw deal as it is and if I could, I would give anything to save her from it, but I can’t.” Something akin to guilt or regret enters his eyes and I don’t like it. “I don’t have that power anymore.”

Bite my lip and look away. “She means a lot to you.”

“I won’t deny that, she does. I love her.” His last three words slap me with a jerky, whiplash-like abrupt halt, like a palpable bruise on my heart. My eyes widen and I forget to breathe. Arms go around me, but I barely feel them while he pulls me to him again. “But not in that way, not in the way I feel about you.”

Shake my head, because I don’t believe him.

But he just keeps talking. “You’re a passionate and caring person. Intelligent and strong-willed. With a mind full of ideas and thoughts, who is respectful enough not to voice them when it’s not appropriate.” If that’s how he views my living in my head …

My laugh is hollow and my eyes roll. His words would melt me, this whole moment would have been perfect, if he hadn’t said those three words. He loves her? But … he loved me. He told me so, in the chemistry room that day, not too long ago …

I feel him lift my chin up while his eyes bear into mine. Can he see the conflicting emotions in me, the hurt and confusion? He loves her?

After an eternity of searching, of seeing, of staring into each other, he leans his forehead against mine, breathing in deeply. I watch his eyes close, his tongue running over his lips, hoarse words leaving them, “Do you feel it too?”

“Feel what?” my words are a hardened whisper. My mind just can’t grasp around his intensity right now. I’m just still so … He loves her?

He brings my hand up to lay across his chest, his heavy heartbeat penetrating my thought process. His eyes open slowly and the emotion I see in them makes me want to gasp. I can only stare motionlessly while he slowly leans in. With his lips against mine, I feel his words, “This feels so right.”

His kiss, his passion makes everything else fade away as I drown helplessly in this moment with him before my brain can even register that my heart agrees so wholly with his words. This feels so right.

He pulls away. My eyes focus again on his smiling lips. “They’re announcing the prom king and queen.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can mutter. I can’t think. “What?”

I watch him smile again before he starts walking away from me. Panic rises in me at his retreating back, making me almost think that maybe it didn’t feel so right for him after all … almost thinking it, until I see him turn back to me, holding his hand out for mine, his smile still ever present. I think this was the moment, when I officially, openly gave in, signed myself away and surrendered the fight, when I slid my hand into his.

We walk out together and everyone is staring at the well lit floor where Isabel is standing, a tiara on her head and roses in her hands.

“And now,” the announcer comes back on, “Your prom king …” He opens an envelope, “Maxwell Evans.”

The spotlight shines straight at us. Max just smiles, shaking his head. “I’ll be right back.” I smile after him as he walks through the parting crowd to the front, a circle of light illuminating his confident strides.

The people try to put a crown on his head and hand him a scepter. And I wonder why Max won’t take it. He takes the envelope from the MC and hands it back to him. I can hear Max’s voice through the speakers, “I think you misread it.”

“No, it says so right here …” the MC grabs the envelope back, “Alexander Whitman?” The spotlight goes out to find Alex and I’m clapping and cheering like crazy. So are other people, Maria above everyone else.

Max comes to standing beside me again and my face is still lit up. “I can’t believe they misread the name like that.” He just shrugs and I am suddenly aware of how embarrassing that must have been for Max. “Aww … not that you don’t deserve it, Max, but- just-”

He pouts and my heart goes out to him. Slow smile. “Well, you’re king in my heart, how’s that?” And I mean it too.

His smile brightens up my whole world. “More than enough.” And his arms go around me. I could get used to this. He leans into my ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

I look into his eyes and I’m imagining little horns popping up at the top of his head. It’s crazy. He’s crazy. I’m crazy. Is this what love feels like? “Yeah, let’s go.”

He grabs my hand, but I stop. “We should tell our dates.”

He shakes his head and keeps going. “Forget about them.”

And me, under my Max-filled haze, I just went along with him. “Okay.”



--------------



No, we weren’t that mean. We stopped by a payphone later and called Brad’s cell phone to tell him. He agreed to take Kathleen home. Which left me with Max, all alone, driving aimlessly down the dark open roads.

“Where are you taking me?” Glance over at him and he’s smiling, the wind tossing his hair with the top down in the Chevelle.

His smile turns into a smirk and he side glances at me. “The ends of the earth.”

I smile and lean back. “Lovely.” My arm drapes over the side and I can feel the wind picking it up.

“Would you go with me?”

It’s funny he asks, because right now, I’d go anywhere with him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He smirks at me before he pulls off and we drive through the desert terrain for a distance before he stops and gets out, popping his trunk.

And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, sit here or get out. But pretty soon my door is opened. “Come on.”

He has a blanket thrown over his shoulder. He finds a spot and spreads it out and we both sit.

“So that I’m clear on what’s going on between us … we’re officially together now, right?”

I look at him and I’m not sure quite how to answer. The whole perfect-ness of everything colliding with my low self-esteem, not letting me accept that this fairytale is real. What does he mean, official? Does that mean I don the title of ‘his girl?’ We go out on dates and he buys me nice things and treats me special? And then he finds out I’m boring and not worth his time? He dumps me and I end up hating him for the rest of my life? Is that how it’s going to be?

“I-” And this big wet drop lands right on my forehead. One on his back and another on my shoulder.

“Perfect, huh?” he laughs and he pulls me up, grabbing the blanket and rushing towards the car.

“Are you going to put the hood up?”

He shakes his head and just guns the engine, reversing a little and taking off for the road. “I think if we head off now, we can make it somewhere before it really pours. So … where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Um … we can go to the bowling alley, or get a bite to eat at the Crashdown, or we can go look at-”

I stop him, my hand touching his arm. I don’t know what makes me suggest it, makes me think the un-innocent thoughts that I think. Maybe it’s because I want to cement something of the whole night, make it a little concrete. Maybe it’s because I want to make this dream last a little longer. Maybe I’m just crazy. “Max, let’s go to your place.”

I start to think maybe he didn’t hear me, but his voice is light, “Okay.”



--------------



We didn’t make it before the rain came down. We pulled into his garage with the interior of the car soaked. The best part of it was that Max didn’t seem to care. I’ve never understood those guys whose cars mean more to them than life itself. And they would kill if someone steps on their nice leather seats. Max isn’t one of them. I love that he isn’t one of them.

“I’m sorry I ruined your dress.” He’s laughing and helping me out of the car.

I just laugh along with him. Reach up, flick his hair and wipe at the shoulder of his suit, which is completely soaked.

“Let’s go in and I’ll get you a towel.” He reaches for my hand and we head into his house.

We pass by a mirror and I can’t even look at the sight of us. “Edward Harding surely won’t like this. Proper girls don’t drown themselves in water on joyrides with boys.”

Max turns towards me and laughs, his hands go on either sides of my face. “I’d feel a little more guilty if you didn’t look so cute wet. So sexy.” And he leans down to kiss me, his lips wet, his skin cool.

“Master Evans,” a voice interrupts us and we break apart, me ducking behind Max, to try to hide with him as my shield.

“Larek.” It seems like Max is panting. It makes me smile because it seems, I took Max’s breath away. God knows he took mine, among other things. “I thought you’d left.”

“It started raining so I came back to close all of the windows.”

“Thank you, Larek,” Max says, clearing his throat. An awkward silence follows.

“Well, I’ll be leaving you to … entertain your guest. Miss Harding.” He nods towards me and I wave.

Larek leaves out the front door and I come out from behind Max. “Am I not supposed to be here?”

Max just sighs, shaking his head. “I’m wondering whether or not he’s going to be reporting this … incident or whether I’ll be receiving a lecture for it.”

I pull at the sides of his shirt. It’s plastered to his skin, molding his body in a way that makes my eyes unable to stop staring. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

And Max’s face lights up, worry free and smirking. “Promise?”

Glance around the house. “Do I get a tour?”

“Sure.” He slides his fingers through mine and turns around, pointing in general directions. “Well, this is the living room. The kitchen is this way.”

He steps away, but I don’t follow. Shake my head, bite my lip. “I don’t want to see the kitchen.”

“The den is right through this door.” He starts in another direction.

But I still don’t follow. “I don’t want to see the den.”

“Well, we also have an entertainment room, an art room, a study-”

And he’s so coy and innocent as opposed to my thoughts right now. “Where’s your room, Max?”

I think I shock him there for a second, “This way.”

I grab onto his arm and he leads me up the stairs, through rooms, around corners and up to a large door. He pauses and I think he hesitates, but he pushes the door open to a very big, very masculine, very Max-like bedroom.

I walk in, drop my shoes, lift my dress a bit and drop back on the bed. “Nice bed. It’s big.” Pat the area beside me and he comes over slowly.

He sits stiff. But somewhere in his mind, I think he remembers that it’s just me, just sweet and innocent little Lizzie, and he relaxes, leaning over me with that smirk of his. “Yeah. But it gets kind of lonely sleeping in a big bed by myself.” He winks.

I just laugh and lay back further, leaning on my elbows.

He gets up and walks towards a drawer, pulls something out before he starts walking back towards me. “I’ve … I’ve got something for you since you’re here and all.”

He hands it to me and my fingers feel over it. It’s a velvety jewelry box. “What’s this for?”

“Happy early birthday?”

Shake my head. “My birthday isn’t for a couple more months.”

“I know,” he’s nodding his head. “I just … it made me think of you.”

“Thank you.” And I open it up and I just … whoa …

“You like?”

“Oh my god. Max.” Stare at the diamond necklace and shake my head. “I can’t accept this.”

“You don’t like,” he sighs out.

His face looks kind of defeated and I shake my head, reaching for his hand. “I love it. It’s beautiful. But-”

“Here, let me put it on.” He’s smiling again and pulling the necklace out of the box.

And I scoot away. “No, Max. It’s too much. I mean, even if it wasn’t real-”

“It is.”

“Then this would had to have cost you a small fortune. And for a high school kid …” How could he … why would he … Me? Diamonds?

“Don’t worry about the cost. Besides, it’s got more sentimental value to me than anything else.” He puts the necklace back in its box and places it on my lap.

“Then I really can’t accept this.” I snap the lid close and hand it back to him.

“Okay.” He sighs, but he takes it, placing it on the bed beside him.

He looks sad though. And I don’t like that he’s sad. Or that I made him that way. “Thank you though, Max.”

A frown still on his face, he just shakes his head, not even looking at me. And I have to stop him while I scoot nearer, kneeling on the bed to get closer to him. My foot catches on my dress and I almost fall into his lap, but he catches me, his hands on my waist, so warm. A deep yearning inside me makes me lean in closer, to whisper to him, “No, Max. Really. Thank you … for everything.” My lips move to meet his.

I wonder if he realizes what I mean by everything. That he means the world to me. And that … I love him. So much that it’s me who deepens the kiss, me who has him lay back on the bed, me who unbuttons his shirt, and me who leads his hands to unzip my dress.

And everything just moves too fast. So fast that once the haze finally lifts and my mind finally starts to clear, my dress is wrinkling carelessly in a heap on the floor with his clothes and I’m lying there, bare and exposed, in his bed … in his arms, listening to his even breaths and feeling his warm chest rise and fall.

I made the night magical and something to remember, to cherish always. But the worst part had to be that my most vivid memory of the entire affair, was of me slipping out of his bed, down his stairs, out his house, and through my window to my room, all before the sun rose.



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 2:24 am, edited 4 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Three:
-------------------------------------------------



I’m a slut, skank, whore, super sleezy and so easy. You think of all of those times that you turn your nose up at all of those girls who slept with the guy on the first date, and then look at me. I didn’t even get a date out of him.

But it’s okay, because I got something better than dinner and a movie. I had warmth beyond anything I’ve ever felt before, waking up safely to Max’s arms still around me after a night of passion with someone who is just … beautiful to me. And all I had to give up was my virginity, pride, and reputation. My clean slate now has permanent angry slashes all over it and my wedding dress is now yellowed and stained. And in the end, it was all worth is, right?

I think I got jipped.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex asks for the fifth time why I’m so quiet while he pulls the car into a parking spot.

“I’m fine, Alex. Really.” I just gave myself to someone on a Friday night and spent Saturday and Sunday holed up in my room under the pretenses of studying for a big History test on the off chance that I would run into him every time I pulled back my curtain or opened my front door. The only perk of the whole situation was that it had been an Edward Harding-free weekend since he stormed out of the house last Friday.

“That’s pretty.” Alex points at something on my shirt and I glance down at the diamond hanging around my neck before I tuck it back under my clothing where it is warm and safe.

“It was a gift.” I woke up with it on after that night and I didn’t even notice it until I caught my reflection in the mirror, getting ready for a bath. He probably slipped it around my neck that night, during those so few hours of darkness when I was safely asleep, warmed from his embrace.

Sigh. Sling my bag over my shoulders and grab Alex’s bag while he starts unloading some massive project out of the trunk of his car.

It amazes me what Alex can accomplish. “And you did all of this, this weekend?” He hands me some bags that he pulls out of the trunk while he works at getting the mass of his project out.

“No, actually, I’ve been working on this project for quite some time now.” He lifts the thing out and I close the trunk for him. “I got to be prom king for a weekend and now I get to go back to being a massive dork.”

“Smart guys are hot.” He rolls his eyes at me. I smile and I think of Max. And then I stop. “So, am I going to get to see this project of yours?”

“Um … no. Sorry, Liz.”

But I don’t push it. Curious, but I don’t push it. Alex is serious about his stuff and if he doesn’t want me to see, there’s probably a really good reason why.

“Did you study for the History test?” I ask him as he’s crawling around in the back seat.

“Where are my damn slides? What? History? No. Photographic memory.” And he goes back to searching.

And I forget that I don’t ask questions like that to him because Alex is what you would call a Super Genius. He puts me and my somewhat intelligence to shame. But why do Max and I currently have a higher GPA than Alex? Because Alex is a lazy bum with A.D.D. He refuses to do any work that doesn’t keep his attention for more than ten seconds. Sadly, there aren’t a lot of things that keep his attention for more than ten seconds.

“Hey.” Someone comes to standing beside me, blocking the sun as he towers over me. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all weekend.”

Swallow back the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah, I’ve um … I’ve just been …” Avoiding the hell out of you. “… Studying.”

He just smiles that lopsided smile that makes all girls faint. “History?”

“Yeah, you?” Because, you know, Max is in my history class too. He sits by himself though because, you know, no one is good enough to sit at the same table as Max. I sit with Alex and Maria.

“Nah. Photographic memory.” And he smiles.

It seems everyone has one of those. Damn their genetics. “Like Alex.”

“No. No one is as good as Alex.” Max smiles and steps a little closer to me.

I step back, and Alex comes out of the car. “Alright. Enough with the flattery.” Alex picks one of the bags I’m carrying and puts the slides inside.

“Is this it?” And Max and Alex start into their conversation where I just stand there and pretend like I know what they’re talking about. “You’re not done, are you?”

“No. But they want an update on what progress I have so far.” He picks up the bulk of the project from off the top of the trunk. “I’m going to run it by Singer and Walsh to see what they think before this afternoon.”

And it looks like Alex is antsy to go, so I start edging away too, but Max stops me. “I’ll walk you in.”

“No-um… I have to carry Alex’s things.” I nod over towards Alex, who is waiting a few feet away.

Max stops some random kid who passes by, has him take the things from me, and has him follow Alex.

And I sigh in defeat because that was my big excuse to get away. I’ve been dreading this all weekend because it’s going to be weird and awkward because there’s something between Max and I now that will make it a little more difficult to look at him, to talk to him, to be around him.

“What’s wrong?” He’s closer, and softer, and sweeter than when Alex was around. His hand is on my cheek but I won’t look up at him. I stare at some random spot of his chest and I can’t help thinking that I know what that chest looks like without his shirt covering it. I know what it feels like. And however kinky, I know what it tastes like too.

But this has to be said, right? It has to be acknowledged and out in the open between us so that some of the awkwardness will go away and he can validate to me that it wasn’t just a careless night of passion with some all too eager girl. “About what happened on Friday …” And I feel one finger running back and forth against my jaw, traveling down to my neck, and my eyes close.

“Yeah?” Under the haze, I notice he’s close to me, his head leaning down, a smirk on his face. And he’s just … he’s too good at this. He’s too debonair, too charming. Too conscious of everything he’s doing to me.

Step back, swat away his hand, and square my shoulders, a cement wall shooting back up. “Question.” And I’m sounding a lot more controlled. I’m feeling a lot more controlled, with a side of dejection, but controlled. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Done what?” He looks confused when he should know what I’m talking about.

How he knows exactly what he’s doing. What we just had right now, this little wooing bit. Or rather, everything. “All that we did.” I’m not talking about the kisses, the dancing, the talks or any of that. I’m talking about “that night.”

“Why?” His eyes shift back and forth.

“Because …” you were my first. It’s only fair that I’m yours, but “you just seemed like you kind of knew what you were doing.”

His face falls and that’s all the answer I need. “Honestly?”

I nod my head but I can already hear his answer before he even says it, without even having to look at him.

“Yes-”

“Oh.” How nice …

“Just once,” he says in a hurry and he sounds worried. Why would he be worried? He didn’t lose anything, only I did.

“Who?” It’s funny I ask because I can already guess.

“Does it really matter?”

“Pam.” It’s not a question because I already knew. After all, he loves her. Even without being here, she’s the one he cares about. She’s the one who means the world to him. Why wouldn’t he have slept with her? She was made for him. Wait … what?

“Yeah. But just once though, Liz.”

And it shouldn’t matter, right? It shouldn’t make a difference in how I view Max just because he fucked Pamela Troy. Except for the fact that I distinctly remember one instance in the Crashdown where Pam said that she only got to first base with Max. So that means that all the while that he was buttering me up, at some time from that point until last night is when he and Pam … oh the bastard.

This big acidy ball of hatred, disgust, sadness, betrayal, hurt, anger, jealousy, and just everything is lodged in the pit of my stomach and it’s making me feel just … god. Damn him. Damn him to hell! “So … am I just your little side bit, is that it?”

“What?”

“What, Pam is not here anymore? Well, Liz is lonely and desperate, right? Let’s screw her.” And I know I shouldn’t be mad at Max, because it’s not his fault that I thought it meant more to him than it actually did … because I thought I meant more to him. But it’s easier to get angry. It’s so easy to feel this type of livid. Easier than feeling hurt, at least, not in front of him.

“What are you talking about? It’s not like that.”

That’s funny, Max. “Then what’s it like?”

“What I had with her was completely different from what I have with you.” He’s speaking forcefully, but it’s a silly thing to do because he should know, I never hear anything that I don’t want to, I stop listening.

“Was she that much better than me?”

He straightens up. I think I’m getting to him. “No. What I had with her, I was completely unready for. And that happened for all of the wrong reasons.”

Are there ever any right reasons? Lust, it’s a sinful thing. And that’s what Max and I were, lustful. At the time, I just happened to mistake it with another four letter word. It’s a common mistake. They both begin with L’s. But with him and Pam, was it lust? Was it more? Or “were you just so turned on and she just happen to be there, begging to-”

“Liz, calm down.” He talks softly while his fingers wipe at my cheeks. I didn’t even realize I was crying. Crying over him? When he’s not worth it. When I’m not worth it.

Calm down. Calm down? “You’re right.” He’s always right. Because he’s Max. And every girl wants Max. Not excluding me, apparently. “Why am I angry? Why the hell do I care?” It doesn’t matter any more. Everything I thought, everything I hoped would come out of this, isn’t going to. And everything he told me that night, all the empty promises, the lies. “You could have fucked every girl in the entire school and it shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does matter.” His arm reaches out to me and I step back, shaking my head, smile on my face because it’s funny. This whole thing is funny. It’s ridiculous, the thought that I would mean so much to him. It’s ridiculous that I wanted it. And this is all just one big ball of laughs.

“No, Max.” And giggles and all of that just spew out of me and I shake my head. “It doesn’t,” because it was just a one night fling for me too. It wasn’t anything more than that. Get a grip on yourself, Liz. “It didn’t mean a thing,” not to him it didn’t. No, to him, “it was just a one night fling.” A one night fling that felt so right. Funny, isn’t it?

But Max isn’t laughing, no. Max is a big grumpy man. “That’s how you see it? Fine. It was fun. We both had a good time … and that’s what matters, right?”

And I have to walk away, my body still shaking, chuckling away. Laughter is my medicine, laughter is my façade, because if I didn’t laugh, I’d be crying, and I’ve already done that in front of him one too many times.



--------------



And an emotionally distraught me who can’t think straight goes and does the stupidest thing in the world. But it’s okay, because the anger steaming off of Max was satisfying and painful at the same time. Yeah, come third period, I started getting friendly with Brad. It was wrong, I know … but … it seemed harmless enough. Max doesn’t want me, nobody does. Max wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t feeling unwanted. He wasn’t even hurt. So it was harmless, right? And Brad … Brad is just a nice guy.

It’s just so laughable, the entire affair. I switched seats with Tommy, who was more than happy to take a seat closer to Courtney, so that I was practically rubbing up, arm to arm with Brad the entire class period. I made sure to giggle at whatever he said and to gaze at him adoringly. All in all, I think I played the part of the girly girl pretty well. Well enough to feel Max’s stare bearing into me and the hostility fuming from him. As if my giving all of my attention to Brad meant anything to him. It was funny. It’s all just one big joke, my life.



--------------



Brad was spending lunch in the library today. I joined him to help him with his Health homework. And then I oh-so casually invited him to spend some quality time with me in the eraser room. Oh the things running through my mind.

And of course, we had to make a little detour by the chemistry room so that Brad can get a glimpse of Tess and so that I can, you know, have a little confrontation with Max.

“Liz, we need to talk.”

Brad, standing beside me, gets a little uneasy and starts backing away. “Liz, I’m just going to go …”

Grab his arm and make him stay. I need Brad. Look at Max squarely. “No. Brad and I, we’re kind of busy.”

And that’s when we walk off, me pulling Brad behind me, and open up the door to the sexual little haven of chalk dusk and hormones, walk in and close it, Max’s eyes following me the entire time. It’s fun. It’s funny. Ha ha.

I just hop onto the table feeling like shit.

“So, what did he do?”

“What?” Look up and Brad’s leaning against the door. There’s a lot of distance between us. I think we’re both more comfortable that way.

“Max. What did he do?” There’s this knowing smile on his face. It makes me kind of weary.

“What do you mean?”

Brad shrugs. “I know you’re just using me to make him jealous. Just wondering what he did to have to face your wrath.”

What did Max do? “He did nothing.” Nothing that any other guy wouldn’t have done, given the chance.

“Then why are you so mad at him?” They’re funny. They’re ridiculous, these questions.

“Because he made me feel special.” Made me feel loved. Made me think that I was important to him, when I’m just his girl of the week. Funny, right? Ha ha.

“And that merits him being punished by you like this? Girls. They’re crazy.” He makes this face and I just look at him.

“What do you know? You’re in love with Tess.”

“I wouldn’t say love.” But he blushes anyway.

“Go for it.” Go for what you want. Because in the end, it’s better to have had something than nothing at all, right? Until days later after having given it all to him, he throws it back in your face.

“She has Kyle.”

His voice shocks me. I seem to have forgotten that he’s here. Lost in my own thoughts. That happens a lot. Tess has Kyle. Maria has Michael. Isabel has Alex. And Liz has no one. “It’s not like they’re married. They’re just dating.”

“Right. Brad, the home-wrecker.” He laughs. “That’s all I need. God knows I’m already going to have Max breathing down my neck pretty soon. Once the ally, now the enemy.” He’s looking away, shaking his head with the smile on his lips. “Oh, the things I do for a pretty face.”

Is he talking about me? I’m not pretty. But, “I’m sorry I’m putting you through all of this.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be the center of all the gossip being a part of the love triangle, splitting Max from his Liz.”

Max from his Liz? What does that mean?

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what is going on between Max and you?”

I do mind him asking, because there’s nothing going on between Max and I. Lust. It’s shit. Pure bullshit. “Nothing.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.”

“Really. Nothing.” I wonder when people will realize that pushing somone to talk is never the right path to gaining their confidence. Never.

“What happened?”

I shrug. “Old flames?” That’s what Pam is, right? An old flame still burning bright in his heart.

“Yours?”

Shake my head. “His.”

“Wait, Max is breaking up with you?”

Breaking up? Breaking. Hearts break. Hearts are fragile things they are. I don’t think I have one anymore. I lost it along with my sanity. “We were never going out.”

“That’s not what everyone else thinks.”

Fuck everyone else. “Why are people getting into my business?”

“Because you’re with Max and Max’s life is something everyone wants to know about. He’s our resident celebrity, even if he isn’t in power.”

Just stare at Brad, shaking my head. “What are you talking about?”

Brad sighs and frowns. “The news hasn’t reached the masses yet, but my dad is on the Council. Khivar has taken over Antar. They’re waiting to see whether or not he wants the Earth colony as well.”

Whoa … wait … “What?”

“And whether Khivar wants it or not, it still means that Max’s dynasty isn’t in complete power anymore.”

Dynasty? The fuck is that? “Wait. Who is Max’s father?”

And he looks at me like I’m slow, like I should know this. “Max’s father-”

But Brad doesn’t finish because Brad falls to the ground because someone opened the door.

“Liz!”

“Alex!”

He helps Brad up before he gives me that lecturing look and tone. “You should be getting to class. I think you’re starting a new lab.”

“Oh.” How would Alex know this when he isn’t in my chemistry class? “Well, Brad and I were just-”

“Yeah. I need to have a little talk with Brad.” And the way Alex is narrowing his eyes at Brad, it’s as though Alex is Brad’s pretend big brother too.

Offer Brad a smile and he smiles back. “I’ll see you in Health, Brad.”

Step out of the closet and barely close the door before someone grabs my arm and pulls me along down the hall and down the stairs. Stare after him and I can barely keep up when he has such large strides. “Max, where are you taking me?” But he doesn’t answer, his arm just grips a little tighter and he pulls me out a side door of the school, down a couple of steps. He lets go and I’m standing flat against the side of the building. He doesn’t talk. He just stands there, hovering and staring down at me as a group of kids holding tennis racquets walk by, heading off to the courts. He’s menacing, daunting, and scary when he’s silently seething like this. But once the kids are out of sight, Max finally starts up.

“Are you deliberately trying to hurt me?”

And I have to remember to smile. And I have to remember to laugh. Because this is funny, right? “Hurt you? Now why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know, Liz. I don’t know anything with you.” A sad gentleness overcomes the anger and a hand comes up and brushes my cheek, feather touches across my neck. And the way he’s looking at me …

I have to turn away. I have to roll my eyes and I have to start walking. Because if I don’t, I’d melt. And I can’t afford to do that again. I can’t fall into his trap again. And I can’t get hurt … again.

But I’m only a few feet away from him when he’s calling to me. His voice doesn’t sound gentle and featherlike anymore. It’s jagged and sad. “It’s fun loving a king, isn’t it? Get me so besotted with you that you could have anything you want? Because I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

I turn slowly back towards him. His teeth are clenched, his jaw hard. “What are you talking about?” Kings and planets and dynasties. It doesn’t make sense.

Two steps and he reaches me. Two. “Liz … help me out here … I’m not quite understanding what’s going on between you and Brad.”

Cross my arms over my chest, shake my head and shrug. “What does it mean to you?”

“If he’s trying to make a move on you, then I’m going to have to kick his ass. But if the attraction is mutual, then you should tell me instead of just stringing me along out of sympathy.” His words are tight towards the end. And I’m supposed to laugh, right? Ha ha?

“What? Am I not allowed to look at other guys until you’ve had your fill of me?”

“What?”

Shake my head. “Always trust your gut instinct and mine told me that you were some kind of playboy since the first day I met you.” Mr. Suave. Mr. I’m-So-Sure-Of-Myself.

“Playboy?”

And I can’t do this. I can’t fall again because I’ve fallen too many times. Because this time, there’s no bouncing back when I have nothing to catch me. I gave everything to him. “You’ve had me, Max. Another notch on your bedpost. Go find yourself another fuck-buddy.”

“We moved too fast into this. I knew it. That night, I just ... I got so caught up in the moment … caught up in you.” Funny, funny, Mr. Grumpy. You playing your game.

Ha ha ha? “Caught up in me? I’m just your flavor of the week. Four more days and you won’t even be talking to me anymore.”

“Flavor of the week? Where are you getting this shit?! You’re a hell of a lot more to me than just that. God, I gave you my necklace.”

And I have to resist the urge to feel for it through my shirt, because if I did, Max would know. And I can’t let Max know. And “I bet you give that to every one of your little conquests. It’s probably been around the neck of all your little harlots.”

I wait for the angry remarks to come from his lips but they don’t, just silence. And after a while, I cross my arms and look up and I actually look at him for once in the longest time. And his eyes, they’re beautiful with emotions running through him.

“That necklace means more to me than the lives of most of the people here on earth. My mother gave me that necklace right before she died. She told me that I should only give it to someone if I loved them unconditionally, like she loved me. And I gave it to you. Because I feel that way about you.” Funny, funny, Mr. Max. Funny, funny, the things he says and doesn’t mean.

Ha ha. “What about Pam?”

He tenses like he wants to hit something. It makes me flinch. “What happened with Pam happened a long time ago. Don’t hold it against me.” Fingers grip my arms but I barely feel them because I’m thinking.

Wait … “A long time ago?”

“Yes. It was like … freshman year. I don’t even remember anymore.”

“No. Because I remember Pam saying earlier this year that she only got to first base with you. Unless first base in Pam’s world is sex, second is marriage, and third is to kill you for all of your money? Or-or you slept with her and then you turned around and blocked it from her memory …” Wait …

“Liz-“

Blocked? Memory? Kings and planets and dynasties? “I’m going insane, blocked it from her memory? That’s crazy talk.” I truly have lost it.

“You’re starting to remember, aren’t you?” His voice is soft again and he’s walking towards me.

“Remember what?” And I have to take one and a half steps back for every step he takes forward, because his strides are significantly larger than mine.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No, don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.” And it doesn’t help that I back up into the brick wall at that very moment.

“Liz, you’re only hurting yourself more.”

“Let go of me.” My eyes squeeze shut and I can feel a hand on my arm. Another hand comes to the side of my skull and my hand shoots out blindly to push against him. “Please Max, please. Don’t do this …”

And all I can feel is this feather light wisp of pressure on the top of my head. Another on my cheek. Open my eyes and his lips are still there, burning against my skin. His eyes are closed.

His hand drops down to my waist for a second. But only for a second because my arms go up and I push him away. “Back off.”

“Liz?” His arms aren’t on me anymore, but they go to either sides of the wall, blocking me in.

He’s trapping me … again. “Let me go, Max.”

“Liz, I have feelings for you. And I care about you. And I don’t want to drive you away. But I can’t undo my past.”

He sounds serious. I laugh. Funny, funny, Mr. Max. Funny, funny. His arms go down and I get to breathe again.

“Pam’s not even in my life any more. You are.”

Shake my head and step away from him, closer to the door. “I don’t want to be a replacement.”

“You aren’t,” he sounds genuine, but my head tells my heart he’s lying.

Two more steps back. “I don’t want to be second best.”

“You aren’t,” he sounds sincere, but my head tells my heart he’s lying.

Stop and stare at him. “Prove it.”

He stares back at me with words filled with emotion, “How can I when you won’t let me?”

But, Max, “I can’t …” I can’t handle this. I can’t do this. I can’t fall. And I can’t hurt. I can’t even laugh at that. All I can do is turn away.



--------------



I walked straight home from there. Max probably went to class. I don’t know and I don’t care anymore.

Juanita meets me at the door. “Is he home?” She shakes her head and I let out a sigh of relief before I head straight to my room to get ready. After all, today’s a big day. Today I get to see someone I haven’t seen in a long time.

Open my door and I see the potted green thing on my desk. Juanita got me the plant like I asked her to. Because, you know, he loves plants. I wonder if they’ll let him keep it, where he is now.

Throw my bag on my bed before I wash up in the bathroom and reenter my room. I glance at myself in the vanity mirror. I’ve changed a lot since I saw him last. On the inside, if not on the out. My arms reach behind my neck and I undo the thin chain, hold it out and place it softly on the vanity table. Because I don’t want to have to think about Max and I don’t want Max to be a part of me anymore. Grab the plant and go, ignoring the fact that once I reach the front door I have to go back upstairs to put it back on, hide it under my shirt, because I don’t feel safe or comforted without it. Strange and funny stuff, huh? I head off to the bus station, because the bus I want to get on leaves soon to take me where I want to go.



--------------



New Mexico State Penitentiary. There’s a big sign outside. As though the iron bars and the huge walls and electric fences don’t give it away.

A man meets me at the front, makes me go through a metal detector and searches me. He also searches my plant, because, you know, it could be filled with deadly explosives and whatnot.

He tells me some basic rules and suggests that I keep my jacket on, zipped up. Apparently, since I’m a girl, any bit of skin gets these prisoners excited. Disturbing and entirely repulsive, yes.

People leer at me and one guy tries to grab me through the bars of his cell. Prisons are scary places. The guard stops a couple of cells away, points towards the one that Dad is in and tells me I have fifteen minutes.

I step closer and I can make out his voice. It’s haunting, hearing it again. “You have to get her out of there.” He sounds frantic. Dad was never frantic, always calm, in control.

“Hank,” and I think it’s Jeffy-boy, but I’m not sure, “maybe all of this confined space is making you-”

“No, listen to me. That town, it’s filled with them. You need to get her away from all of that.”

Step up to the door of the cell and he’s sitting on the bed, Nancy and Jeff standing, talking to him. “Hank, calm down.”

My fingers grip the bars and he stops and looks at me. It’s eerie, seeing him again. “Liz.”

“Hi.” I wave. It’s lame, but what else can I do?

I stare at him and he stares at me. But Nancy interrupts, coming to the door. “Um … why don’t we give them some time alone?” she says to Jeff before turning to me. “You probably have a lot to talk about.”

Another guard comes and opens the door, letting them out and letting me in. The door closes with a bang and I stand there.

He points to the seat and I do as he wants, because I’m the obedient daughter, despite whatever kind of a father he is.

“Honey-bear.” I haven’t been called that in a long time.

“Hank.” No daddy, no dad, no pops, no papa, just Hank.

He sighs and he leans in closer to me. “I guess I deserve that.”

I don’t scoot back though, like I would with anyone else. Because it’s him. I’ve always felt comfortable around him, quasi-loved. Why wouldn’t I now? Oh, that’s right. Because we aren’t in the comforting living room of our house. We’re in a fucking prison cell. “Damn straight, you do.”

“Don’t use that language with me.” And he does it, he uses that tone that only fathers use. But he’s not, because he’s here.

Shake my head. “Why not? What are you to me?”

“I’m your father and nothing will change that.” The voice. It’s eerie because it’s comforting. And I miss him.

One tear, two tears, three tears, sniffle. “Why did you do it, Daddy?”

“Do what, baby?” And he’s patting my cheek like he used to when I was little.

My head drops and I stare down at the ground. “Kill her.” And I don’t know if he hears me or not.

But after a while, “I didn’t.”

My head shoots up. “What?”

“I didn’t, Liz. I love your mother. I would never …”

“Then why are you in here? Why were you found guilty? Why did you …” why did you leave me?

“Your mother ... What’s a life without her worth living for?”

And I just stare at him. “What about me?”

Silence before he looks away.

And I just … “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“So what was that whole scene in the courtroom about? ‘Lizzie, Daddy’ll come get you, honeybear’.” He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about me and it was all just bullshit.

Silence. It’s all I get from him. It’s all I’ll ever get from him.

Stand up and shove the pot at him. “Here’s your fucking plant. Happy Father’s Day, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and whatever else hell for the next so odd years of your life.” You’ll never see me again.

Turn a bit before I pause, waiting for some type of reaction, anything. But all I get is silence. “You don’t even care, do you?”

I watch him as he slowly puts the pot aside, stands, and walks towards me, his hand reaching out and patting my cheek. “I care more than you’ll ever know, baby.”

Shake my head and bite my lip. Tears don’t come because I refuse to give them.

“Have a nice life, Lizzie. You deserve one.”

And that did it. I fall to my knees and he squats down to pull me to him. My arms go around his shoulders and he rubs my back, even though we were never the touchy-feely type, even though we’re in a prison cell and he’s in an orange jumpsuit, even though he killed my mom. He pulls me to him because I need his comfort, his strength. “Daddy.”

We stay like this until I stop shaking and he whispers in my ear. “Get out of that town, Liz. Get out of there now. And get as far away from Edward Harding as you possibly can. He isn’t your mother’s cousin.”

My head lifts up slowly. “What?”

But I can hear the guard unlocking the door behind me. “In Roswell, her name was Annabelle Ross.”

“What?” What are you talking about, Dad?

“Your time is up.”

He stands me up and looks at me, patting me on the cheek one last time. “You’re smart. You’ll figure it out, Lizzie. I know you will.”

The iron bars are shut behind me as the guard escorts me out and brings me to the front where Nancy and Jeff are waiting for me. They’re smiling wary smiles because my eyes are filled with tears. They’re on either sides of me and they’re walking me out. They’re going to give me a ride home because they don’t want me riding the dangerous bus back. But they stop to talk to me right outside their car.

“Liz … we’ve been talking with your father. And your father has given us reason to believe that this Harding guy you’re staying with is … well …” I don’t think Nancy can find any nice words to describe him.

“He’s a psycho bastard.” Jeff puts it pretty bluntly, but true.

Thus, I agree. “Uh huh …”

“Has he done or said anything to you that you think he might harm you or that you feel in danger of any sort?”

No, not really. Only that I fear that he will gouge my eyes out every time I forget to wear my contacts in the house. But I simply nod my head.

Nancy looks sad and her hands cover her mouth. Jeff hugs her to his side. “We know this is wrong, but hear us out, Liz. With how rich this guy is, he has the law in his hands, but if you’re in danger …” He pauses, looks at his wife and she nods for him to continue. “We’re offering to take you away from him, have you start a new life with us. You’ll be eighteen eventually and then the government has no say, but we just don’t want to risk anything happening to you until then.”

“That’s only if you’re willing,” Nancy speaks now. “Are you willing?”

They’re offering to take me away. How can they just expect me to answer them like this? Another monumental move? But I can start over and leave self-mutilating, fallen and broken Liz behind. Can I really do that? Can I leave Roswell? Can I leave the life I’m starting to make there? Leave it all behind? Leave Max?

My thoughts jam together and the diamond burns my skin from under my shirt. Everything clears and I look straight at them.

“Yes.”



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 2:26 am, edited 4 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Four:
-------------------------------------------------



|| “Elizabeth, be careful. That pan is hot.” She says it like I’m stupid. But she always loved doing that, stating the obvious. I can’t stand it.

“I know, mom. I know. Heat, metal, hot. I get it. God, I’m not some little kid.”

“Oh?” She comes into the kitchen and leans back on a counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Since when did you grow up?”

Since when have you been around to notice? But I don’t say it. Because it will upset her and Dad will have a cow if I upset her. But it doesn’t stop me from giving her a look. God, I look so much like her. But at least I have Dad’s eyes. And they aren’t a cold blue like hers.

Turn away a little too quickly and hit the handle of the pan, it falls and hits flat on my thigh. “Ow. Ah!”

“Elizabeth!”

Ow. Ow ow ow. “Ow!! It burns!”

“I told you to be careful. Now look at this mess.”

I hear her but I can’t really focus or think while I’m hopping around because “my leg buu-huh-urns!”

“Stop whining and let me see.” She props my leg up on the table and looks it over. It’s probably bubbling up by now. Eww. “I don’t see anything.”

What? “It dropped it on my leg. It’s this whole area.” My hang waves around my entire thigh.

“Really? Do you feel any pain?” She slaps her hand down on my thigh and I’m ready to wince and scream, but it doesn’t come.

Huh. I feel the pressure of her hand, smacking my skin, but no otherworldly pain like a while ago. “No.”

“Then what were you crying about?”

“It hurt … but now it …” I stare down at my leg on the table. What just happened?

Glance at Mom and she has this little knowing grin on her face. “It’s starting.”

“What?” What’s starting?

“I thought you would develop sooner, but you’re a lot more human than I thought.” She seems giddy. She’s never giddy, always too poised to be anywhere near giddy.

So I go, “huh?”

“But don’t worry, Elizabeth. That will change.” She smiles her weird mom-smile and pats me on the head.

The front door opens and closes and in comes Dad in his construction boots and unbuttoned shirt. “I’m home.”

Mom looks at me and I look at her before we both turn to look at Dad. Dad’s looking between the two of us, Mom with her giddiness, me with my leg on the table, and the pan lying on the ground. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Pull my leg off the table. “I dropped a hot pan on my thigh, but … there’s no burn mark.”

Mom turns to me, that smile still on her face. “Elizabeth, listen to me. You are special-”

“Anna, don’t start with that crap. Don’t pull her into that!” He heads towards us, and they start up their arguing for another night.

“She needs to know.” Her hands go up on her hips and she’s all the beauty queen, having a hissy fit.

“No she doesn’t!” He towers over her. Dad’s twice her size, and all tanned construction worker muscle.

But petite little Mom stands right up to him. It’s crazy that she doesn’t get scared, because I get scared of Dad, so easily. “It’s a part of her, Hank.”

“I’ve said no. Why won’t you ever listen to me?”

Stop this! “It was just a pan. It probably wasn’t hot. I just thought it was. Maybe the stove is broken. I’ll clean up.” And we can forget this happened and they can stop arguing and I can stop being the topic of discussion for the gazillionth time.

But Mom walks over, picks up the pan, puts it in the sink and turns on the faucet. The water hits it and the pan sizzles, a small cloud of smoke floating up, proving my ‘pan not being hot’ theory incorrect. And it doesn’t make sense.

“Go to your room, Liz.” Dad is staring at Mom, his back to me. And he’s still that menacing, even when he doesn’t look at you.

But Mom ignores his angry gaze and walks right by him and over towards me. “Stay, Elizabeth. Mommy has to tell you a story, about palaces and princes.”

“Liz! Room! Now!”

I ran up to my room, slammed the door and jumped into bed, hiding under my covers. I don’t think he’s ever really yelled at me before. At least, not like that. He’s never really raised his voice like that, not at me. Sure, at the neighbors when their dog tears up our backyard, and at that one kid down the street who always steals my books when I walk by, but never at me, his darling daughter who has his eyes.

There was so much yelling, screaming, things being thrown about. But I stayed in my room, kept my eyes closed and covered my ears. The tears streaming down my face made me fall asleep faster.
||


You’d think that was the day that she died, right? The day that he shot her? But no. That was the day before it happened. The day before my already shaky life seemed to collapse even more and I lost one of my parents, in turn losing the other.

Seeing him again seemed to just open one dam and that memory just flooded back in, despite how tightly I had packed it away.

Glance out the window and we’re turning onto my street. “Just drop me off here.”

“No, it’s dark,” Jeff says this and points out the window as if I couldn’t see it for myself, “and you shouldn’t be out walking at night.”

It’s crazy how overprotective people get over things that don’t belong to them. “It’s only down the street and I don’t think it would be a good idea for Edward to see you.”

I think saying the E-man’s name got to him and he pulls over. “Okay. But be careful and hurry home, okay?”

“Okay.” Open the door and step out onto the street.

“We’ll be back at noon to get you. Okay?”

Right. Noon. “Okay.” Close the door and wave at them. “Bye.”

I take a few steps before they U-turn around and drive off, leaving me walking down an empty street, the streetlamps lighting my way.

They told me what they were going to do and planned out everything on the ride into Roswell. I nodded my head and agreed to whatever they said. But I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’m really doing this. I’m going to pack up and go again, leaving everything behind once more. But this time, I chose to leave. This time, it’ll be because I want to go. But do I really want to go?

The porch light turns on at a house across the street as I walk by it. I glance at the house and stop in front of it. It’s Pam’s house, minus her yellow convertible, and minus Pam. It’s funny. I kind of miss her, wherever she is. I know Max does too. Will he miss me, when I’m gone?


|| “Look, Parker. I know you have a thing for my Max here, but let’s get real for a second, shall we? Max doesn’t want you. Max, tell her you’d choose me over her, any day.”

“Blondes are nice. But I’m more partial to brunettes.”
||


I smile because I remember that moment. It was one of my better moments with him. But why would he say that to me, to her, when she means so much to him?


|| “ I’m surprised Poodle Pam isn’t following you around.”

“I wouldn’t know. My attention was focused elsewhere.”
||


|| “Why, on earth, were you with Pam, anyway?”

“Just know that it’s not where I want to be.”
||


|| “So … where’s Pam?”

“What can I do to convince you that I’m not interested in Pam?”
||


I turn from the house and keep on walking. It’s funny how one memory just opens up a massive wave of them. And when you look back at it all, kind of looking at it from the outside in, it’s like … he chose me, told me every time that it was me he wanted, me he valued, and me he was interested in, not her.

Yeah, my memories are misleading.

I walk with my head down, staring at the sidewalk, and turn to walk towards the front door as soon as I reach the house, trying my best not to glance at the auburn brick house, a couple of houses down, across the street. It’s better this way, if I don’t see him, if I don’t think about him, if I don’t visit with him one last time.

This way, come tomorrow, I’ll be able to leave. I’ll pack, cut school and wait for the Parkers to pick me up. Max won’t know. He won’t care. And he won’t be able to give me that look. He can’t ask me to stay. And I’ll be able to leave without hurting him again. Without him hurting me.

Juanita opens the door for me. She just gives me a look before she turns around and walks back through some door or other. Strange.

Step inside the house and close the door. She’s not normally this quiet, unless Edward’s around. And I didn’t see his car out front. Maybe he had some chauffer drop him off. In that case, I should just go to my room. After all, I’ve got a lot of packing to do. And I don’t plan on having another confrontation with him for, I don’t know, the rest of my life!

Up the stairs and to my room, close the door, unzip my jacket and toss it on the bed, but stop, the jacket still in my hand, because in my chair, at my desk, is seated someone, leaning back in his jean jacket and that shirt that I like, the black one that buttons down, that makes him look sexy just sitting there, looking at me.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” That smooth deep voice. Why does he do this?

Shake my head and hug my jacket to me. I feel cold. “What are you doing here, Max?” In my room? When I’m not ready and I’m not prepared to face you, to see you again. God, Juanita didn’t even warn me.

“I think we should talk.” He stands up in one fluid motion and I just … I can’t do this.

Throw my jacket on the bed and walk into the closet. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s plenty to talk about, Liz.”

Maybe … maybe if I just ignore him, he’ll go away. Come out of the closet with my suitcase and lay it on my bed, opening it up and pulling out what all I have stuffed inside of there with my back to him, because I don’t want to deal with him right now.

“What are you doing?” I hear his words.

Walk back into my closet and pull clothes off their hangers, folding them and placing them inside. “Packing.”

He sounds like he’s closer to me but I refuse to turn around. “Where are you going?”

Away from here, away from you and anything that has to do with you. “No where. Just … going through my things.”

And I’m stupid. I should know better than to start packing in front of him. Because he’ll start thinking something is up and he’ll get suspicious. He’ll find out and he’ll make me stay. Because some warped and agonizing part of me wants him to do just that. Well, that part just needs to shut up. “Say what you have to say, Max, and leave.”

I hear my chair thud and squeak. I think he kicked it. “You’re putting me through hell, Liz.”

I ignore his anger and I ignore his pain, because I can’t be bothered with that stuff right now. Because I have to pack. Walk over to my dresser and pull out a drawer, my back still to him. I walk from my dresser to my bed one and a half times before he starts up again.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about everything with Pam earlier,” and he sounds serious. He sounds sad. He seems tired. Well, I’m tired too, Max. I’m tired of this and I’m tired of you and your relentless appearances in my mind and my thoughts. “And I want to rip Brad’s head off. So please, stop this?”

I unfold and refold the same t-shirt. “Stop what?”

“This pretending to be with Brad thing.” Tired Max should stop trying and tired Max should just go away. I’m not worth the effort.

Head back over to the dresser again, head down, turned away from him. “Who’s pretending?”

And I stand at my dresser, just staring inside the drawer, messing with a pair of jeans I have laying inside, because I can’t walk back to my bed to place it in my suitcase. Because if I do, I’ll have to turn and if I turn, I’ll catch a glimpse of him and that’s all he needs for those eyes of his to see right through me, down to the naked core, where everything is helpless and dirty.

“You’re with Brad?”

“He’s just …” Pause and think, because, do I really want to go down this road? Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to go this far? Deep breath and I think my mind stops thinking. I think the rest of me just pulls back, but my lips keep going.

He does that to me, Max does. He makes me just lose myself. He has that affect on me. Just seeing him again makes me … makes me realize that … that he’s my world. Because he’s “… he’s beautiful. He’s good to me,” when we’re alone or when it just feels like we are, when it’s just me and him, when everyone else just disappears. Because “he makes me feel special. And we just click. We just fit together … perfectly.” Or we did once, Max and I. At least I thought so, at the time.

His words come out angry. “That’s bullshit.”

Bullshit? What Max and I had was just that, right? And I should just forget about that night we had together and every other moment we shared, block it from my mind like I do with everything else that I don’t want to remember. Because it’s bullshit. But I can’t do that. Because “it isn’t to me. I … I love him.” I love him. But he doesn’t feel the same way. He can’t. Because I’m Lizzie Philips, and no one loves me.

I wait for more angry words. I wait for him to call my bluff. But it doesn’t come. Instead his words are spoken softly, “More than you love me?”

Shake my head from side to side, but I still don’t look at him when the words slip from my lips, “I never said that I loved you.” Not once, Max. Not to him. Not openly and not out loud. And of course I wouldn’t say that I loved him when it’s obvious that I love him. Wait …

“Right.”

That’s all I hear from him along with angry steps and my door slamming behind me.

Walk over, fold my jeans, and place them in my suitcase. I hear the front door close and I stand strong for all but eight seconds before I head over to the window. Peek between the curtains in time to see his front door slam. And after a while, the light goes on in his bedroom and his shadow flails about in some kind of angry raging dance. It sounds funny and I should laugh, right? Except that it’s tearing at me like knives. God, emotional pain sucks ass.

And this is why I didn’t want this. This is why I didn’t want him. Because now, I can’t have my clean break anymore. Now, I can’t just walk away from all of this and just close this chapter of my life. Not like this. I can’t end it like this. I can’t have him mad at me. And I can’t have my last memory of him filled with so much anger, with me being the cause of it. I can’t.

I’m out the window and climbing down before I even know what I’m doing. Run across the street and I stop in his driveway, wondering what’s possessed me enough to go chasing after some boy, some insignificant and confusing boy. One that torments me, yet means more to me than he will ever know, more than I’ll ever let him know.

“Miss Harding?” a voice comes from inside his garage and Larek comes out, carrying a trash can. “I didn’t see you there. What are you doing out? It’s late.”

I watch him walk out and place the metal cylindrical thing with a lid on the curb. Tomorrow is trash day. He’s watching me, waiting for me to leave, or to speak or to do something, but I just … I … “I … I …”

Larek steps closer, leaning in. “He’s locked up in his room. But there’s a key above the door.” He whispers the last bit and winks at me before he steps back with a smile. “What a lovely night. I think I’ll go for a drive.” And he heads off and disappears.

And I’m standing there, in his driveway, confused as hell. What am I doing here?

I hear glass shattering above. Look up and his light is still on, cursing coming from his window.

With a sad smile on my face, I head into his garage and into the house, on through into the living room, up the stairs and through some hallways to his room. The door is closed but light is shining through the bottom. I reach up, feel across the top and pull back down, a key in my hand. Stick it in and turn, pushing the door open slowly, without thinking.

It squeaks and thuds a little as it hits softly on the wall. Max is standing over his desk, his back towards me, leaning down, breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling.

“I don’t want to be bothered and I don’t want to be lectured at the moment.” He doesn’t turn around though.

I step inside and close the door behind me. I take two steps towards him before I stop. What am I doing here? What am I thinking? Turn back around and grab the doorknob.

“Liz?” Spin slowly and face him. He looks kind of shocked, but then his features harden like granite. “What do you want?”

“I …” I want you, Max.

“Well?”

“I …” I love you.

“Well?!”

“I …” And there’s too much anger. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what I’m doing. “I … I’ll leave.”

“No.” I turn and barely turn the doorknob before I’m picked up and pulled over to the center of the room. “You came here for a reason, Liz. What is it?”

He’s waiting, and he’s staring, and he’s focused completely on me. And I’m … I’m leaving, but I don’t want to. I’m leaving, but I want you to make me stay. I’m leaving because I can’t stay here, because you can’t love me and I can’t love you. Because love is a make-believe feeling that should only exist in movies and fairytales. And my life isn’t a fairytale so I can’t afford feelings like love. Because it takes your breath away and it suffocates you and you can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Close my eyes and I slump down to his bed. Lean forward with my hands on my knees and I just try to catch my breath.

There’s a small tug from around my neck and I open my eyes to find Max, standing right in front of me, one finger gently holding up the diamond, the light shining through it.

It came out from its hiding spot from under my shirt. It came out and he knows. He knows. Shit.

“You wear it?”

Nod my head slowly and I watch him.

One side of his mouth starts tugging upward. And I’m thinking that maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe he won’t be angry with me like this anymore. But before his lip even curls up all the way, it drops back to a frown. And he pulls his hand away, turning his back to me, like it burned his skin, like the sight of me scorched his eyes.

“Does Brad know you wear it?” All of the anger is back. “Or what it stands for?”

And I just want to cry. But I shouldn’t, because I’m the one who started it. I’m the one who told him this and I’m the one who is hurting him and it’s making me ache inside. Bite my lip and shake my head. “I’m not with Brad.”

He turns back around towards me and I stare down at the ground. His hand tries to force my chin up but I keep my head down. I can’t look at him.

His hands lean on my legs and he goes down slowly until he’s kneeling in front of me. It feels wrong for him to be there. He’s looking up at me and he sees me, with my wet cheeks and red eyes.

“Then why would you say all of those things?”

He’s still mad and I don’t blame him. I blame me. Duck my head lower and just stare at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

“Why are you doing this to me, Liz?” And his head is leaning down on my knees. There’s so much heartache that I sink down to the floor with him. My hands reach out and run across his cheeks, fingers graze his jaw line while he’s staring down at me, questioning and confused, his voice but a whisper, “why are you doing this to me?”

Stare up into his eyes. Because I love you. Because you are greatness. Because the sun rises and falls for you. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve devotion and I don’t deserve you. So, “I should go.”

“No.” Fingers grip my wrist. “Stay.”

And it takes everything I have to look away from him and stand up, shaking my head, knees weak. “I shouldn’t.”

Two steps before he’s up and blocking my way. “Do you really want to leave?”

Shake my head and look away. “I shouldn’t.”

One move and all of me is pulled up against him, one hand on my cheek, the other around my back. “Just tonight. Just stay tonight.”

Can I really do that? Just give him tonight? So I can keep it for the rest of my life? Is that what he wants?

Because that’s all I can give.

He leans down and it’s so easy. It’s so easy to just give in, give up everything … just for a moment. His lips come down harder, his tongue runs along mine and a chill runs through me.

I step back but he follows right along with me. My hands inch up his chest. His shirt is soft, silky. One hand tugs at the top of his shirt while the other pushes the button through its hole and it comes undone.

Move down to the next one, but his hands reach up and grab my wrists. “Liz, wait.” He looks at me and shakes his head. “No, not like that.”

And I don’t understand … does he-does he want me to take my clothes off first? Or …

He shakes his head again and steps away from me. “I don’t want that.”

Fear, panic, and comprehension sets in. This was all just a trick, some stupid trick to get back at me or something, to prove that I want him but he doesn’t want me. Because that’s just it, “You don’t want me.”

“No, it’s not that.”

Turn away and start towards the door before all that’s going on hits me and I start crying again, like the sissy that I am. Two steps and I’m pulled back against him, kisses on my neck and shoulder.

“Liz, I want you. I just …” he turns me around and I’m just biting my lip because stupid me gets too emotional when I’m around him. My eyes water too easily. “I don’t want to rush into this any more than we already have.”

Shrug off his hands and stare at him. The pleading look in his eyes, the strong broad shoulders, and the one undone button of his shirt. And he may not want me, “but I want you, Max.” Close my eyes and just shake my head. “I want you close to me.” Just one last time.

Lips come down hard on mine and I’m lifted up and laid down on his bed and this haze comes over me. His tongue touches mine. His hands cover me and mine reach out for his shirt again. One hand pulls on it while the other pushes the button and it comes undone. But his fingers grab my wrists again. Look up and he’s staring down at me, making sure I hear his words, “This isn’t just sex, Liz.”

I nod my head because I know that, Max. This isn’t just sex. It’s goodbye.

“I love you,” he whispers it so softly that I don’t think I would have been able to hear him, had his lips not been right there.

I lean up and I kiss him. My hands go back up to his shirt but his fingers grip my wrists again. And he asks the million-dollar question, “Do you love me?”

And I just … I … “Do I?” He’s everything to me. And he shouldn’t be. And it scares me that he could mean so much, in so little time. He invaded my life and now I’m here … because I do. I love him.

Look up at Max and his eyes are cast downward before they come up and stare into mine while his lips curl up and he smiles before he leans in, kissing me, leaning more of his body, more of his warmth onto me. Did I answer him? Can he tell how I feel, just by looking at me?

My hands come up and he lets me finish off the rest of the buttons.

He takes complete control after that. He removes the rest of his clothes. He removes mine. He keeps asking if I’m sure I want this, keeps telling me he loves me. And I give myself to him … completely. I give him more of me than I did the last time, more than I ever thought possible.

And with all he makes me feel, I forget it was my punishment. Forget that it’s supposed to be painful, like before. But it isn’t nearly. It’s supposed to be my payment, for hurting him like I did. But did I really expect torture and pain? From him? From Max, who is nothing but gentle? Nothing but tender and passionate with me?

I can’t think about it right now, because if I see this night for what it really is, the last of Maxwell Evans for the rest of my life, I don’t think I’d be able to take it.

“I love you.” The words just flow from his lips so easily. He gives himself too easily, too freely. Either that or he doesn’t mean them.

He lifts his head up from where it’s laying on my chest to look at me. Some of his weight is lifted from me while he just stares, waiting. But it’s useless because he’s waiting for something that I can’t say, I can’t give.

“Liz? I love you.”

God, his eyes. The way they bear into you. The way they just seem to see everything. All my faults, all my weaknesses. It’s like he can just look at me and just know it all and I can’t … I can’t take it. So I look away. I turn my head and I look away.

“Fuck …” He rips his warmth away from me and scrambles off the bed, pulling the sheet around him, leaving me lying naked on his bed … exposed. And I can’t be this way, I can’t.

“What kind of game are you playing, Liz?”

And I know that he’s angry. And I know that he’s confused because he doesn’t know what I’m doing here. He doesn’t know that I’m just trying to get one last piece of him before I go and leave forever. He doesn’t know that he’ll just get sick of me in a couple of days and leave me anyway. But I know. And I know that I should go before he has the chance.

Pull myself together and start picking up my clothes from off the ground, piece by piece, putting them on, not really completely there yet. My mind’s still not fully attached to my body yet, I don’t think.

I find my bra, my underwear, and my jeans, but I can’t find my shirt. Check under the bed but it’s not there. Where is my shirt?

“You don’t want Brad! You want me. You said so yourself!” And he’s right behind me, shouting at me. But I have to try to ignore him, even though his tone alone is scaring me, it’s making me tremble. But I can’t focus on that because I have to go. I have to leave here, this room, this town. And I have to find my fucking shirt!

Look up and glance around the room and I see it flung over a chair. I stand up, my back to an angry Max. I need my shirt. But fingers dig into my arms, spinning me around, holding me close, and shaking me.

It hurts. He lets go.

Grab my shirt, pull it over my head and dash for the window. Why the window and not the door? God fucking knows! With my eyes blurred over from tears, I can’t tell the difference anyway.

“What are you doing?” And as soon as I open the lock and start pulling it open, it comes slamming down and I’m spun around to face him again, with his labored breaths and his gritted teeth. “Get back into bed.”

“I should go.” I back up only to hit my head on the glass and bump my leg into the windowsill.

“Fuck it, Liz. You love me! You know you do. God, you were moaning out my name, not his!”

And I don’t know what Max is talking about! But I just want to go away! I want to leave all of this behind me and just … go! Two steps towards the door before he pulls me back again.

“Get back into bed!”

My eyes close and I’m just … I … I’m so tired … But Max doesn’t care about that. Max doesn’t care that I can’t take any more of this, or that I need to leave.

“Take your clothes off, and get back into bed, now!”

I can’t. I can’t do that, Max. I can’t.

Why would you want that? Why would you make me? “Why? Are you going to rape me now?” And I knew I shouldn’t have said it, wanted to take the words back before they even came out of me. Because the look he gives me cuts at me deeper than any of his words. His silence is scarier than all of his yelling and anger combined.

“You think I would hurt you like that? You think that I could hurt you like that?”

I don’t look at him, won’t look at him. Just keep my eyes closed and all of this will go away. I’ll wake up and everything will be okay, not this nightmare of a life.

“Get back into bed.” His voice comes out the softest I’ve heard it since we started our screaming match. Slight touches on my cheek, down to my neck, thumb stroking my jaw. And I open my eyes in time to see him just watching me.

And I just watch him, while he leans in slowly, kisses me softly on the lips, and undoes my clothes, letting them fall to the floor before he leads me back to the bed, laying me back down.

He gets back in bed too. And we’re facing each other, lying on our sides.

Does he know that this isn’t helping? Does he know that this is just making it worse? “Max …”

“No, Liz. We’re just … we’re going to pretend … pretend as though this argument we just had,” he shakes his head from side to side, “didn’t happen. And the argument we had earlier, didn’t happen either. Okay?” He smiles at me. And I think that he actually thinks that he can do this, that he can just go back and erase all of that. God, look whose playing the denial game now. And he lays me back, going back to our position before, with him laying his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

And I just … I can’t help it. I wipe the sweat away from his forehead, smooth back his hair, and pull the sheets tighter around him. And I feel my heart pang and my gut clench.

My fingers run through his hair and I feel his grip tighten on me. It’s intense, just laying here with him. But I need to leave. I shouldn’t be here and I shouldn’t be doing this, because, “I don’t want to hurt you, Max.” But that’s all I seem to do because I don’t know how not to. Other than to leave.

“You can’t hurt me, Liz. I love you. And you love me.” He puts it so simply when it’s not. It’s anything but simple. “And you don’t hurt the person you love. You love them so much that you’d do anything to stop them from feeling any pain, any kind of pain at all.”

Tears don’t describe the relentless comings from my eyes. And I’m biting my lip to stop from wailing. Because of that ‘any kind of pain’. Because it’s the pain that I’m making him feel that he doesn’t want to feel. It’s emotional pain. And it causes me to outright sob. And I’m wondering if it’s bothering Max, because I’m sobbing, and it’s causing my breathing to get shallow, and my chest to heave and fall annoyingly. And Max is laying his head on my chest.

So I try to stop, but it just gets worse. Worse to the point where he just sits up, his back to me. He just sits for a while. Just sitting. And it’s when I’m about to reach out to him and ask him what’s wrong when he speaks, his voice low and even as he pronounces each word slowly. “If you don’t want to be here that badly …” there’s a pause and his voice isn’t so even anymore. It’s more erratic and painful, “… if it hurts you … so much to just be here with me …” another pause and I see his shoulders go up and down as he breathes deeply, “… then leave.”

And I lay there, somewhat numb-like. First he tells me that I can’t go when I’m almost out the door. And now he tells me to get lost when I’m here, lying in bed with him, naked. I just lie there, because I’m still not sure what to do. I just stare at him, watching the muscles of his back move as he takes his deep breaths, waiting for me to make my decision. After a while, with me still not moving, he lies back down, pulling me to him. I think he takes it that I decided to stay. Did I choose to stay? Is that what I want? For Max to pretend to love me and for me to pretend that everything is just perfect?

No. I don’t want that. I don’t want this. I don’t want him. Because it will never work out. It won’t because things and situations like this never work. Emotions and problems and blood and guts. And it’s not just mine. Self-mutilating me doesn’t care if I’m hurting or if I’m bleeding and in pain. It’s him that shouldn’t be this way. It’s him that should be basking in light, full of power and a smirk on his face. And the best way to get him back there is to end his misery. Stop it now, before it hurts more?

My mind is made up and I lift myself up to leave but his arm is holding me down. I lift my eyes and they lock with Max’s. He’s turned back around, facing me with that look in his eyes, that pleading look; the one that’s begging me not to hurt him again. Because that’s all I’ve ever done.

Everything just melts away and crashes down, my walls, my resistance, my strength. I reach up and pull him back down to me, holding him as tight as I can.

And I’m telling myself that it’s okay to be here, attaching myself to Max. It’s okay because it’s just for tonight and it’s only one night. It’s all he asked for, and it’s all that I can give, because after tomorrow morning, I’ll be gone.



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 8:55 pm, edited 4 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Five:
-------------------------------------------------



Something shifts beside me, my eyes open slowly, and I’m staring straight at someone, somewhere between his strong chin and his chiseled chest, one that goes up and down softly as he breathes, in and out.

One arm is thrown around me, across my hip and around my back, and the other arm is tucked under the pillow beside him. His hair is pointing every which way and his eyelashes curl. His mouth is partly open and he breathes pretty hard when he sleeps.

I don’t think I’ve seen him look any more beautiful than right now. In his sleep, worried wrinkles don’t crease his face, anger and sadness don’t touch his eyes, and harsh words and desperate pleas don’t escape from his lips. This is how I want to remember him. This is how I want to remember the ethereal being that is Maxwell Evans, for the rest of my life.

Both of my arms are tucked in front of me, my forearms grazing his chest. And his legs are twined in mine, or mine in his. Either way, it takes a little extra effort and a little more time to get untangled from him this morning than it did the last.

Halfway through, I have to stop, freeze and hold my breath while he tosses a bit, his mouth opening and closing twice before his arm tightens around me and he settles back to sleep.

I slip off the bed, put on my clothes, fold his and place them on his desk, before I tiptoe over to his side again.

God, I think I would have given up so much to just be able to slip under the covers with him again, and just lie there forever. But I couldn’t, because, no matter what I give up, it wouldn’t be enough.

Lean over and kiss him softly on the cheek. But my necklace falls out from under my shirt and grazes his shoulder. Ahh … shit.

Hold completely still and he sucks in a breath, tosses a little, and I’m praying that he doesn’t, but he reaches out for me.

This is where his hand comes out and he finds that I’m not there, right? He wakes up, sees me, tells me to come back to bed. And I tell him I can’t, because I have to go back to my room so that I can pack because I’m leaving Roswell and him in a few hours. And he tells me that I’m not, because he won’t let me and he makes me stay, here, with him, forever, right? You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But no.

He reaches and his arm drapes around the pillow that I was sleeping on, where I’m supposed to be, drags it to him and goes back to sleep.

And I straighten up and breathe again. Glance down at the thing that could have fucked up all of my plans. Or, maybe, given me what I really wanted. My arms reach around my neck and I start to unclasp the thin chain. I take it off and I hold it out, looking at it. I should just put it down on his bedside table, or maybe on the desk or on the spot where I was sleeping. I should. But I can’t. Fasten the necklace back on. I can’t have Max, but I can at least have this, right? It’s okay, right? It’s my consolation prize. I can keep the necklace? Nod my head and tuck it back under my shirt. Yeah, I can keep it.

Grab my shoes and tiptoe out of the room, opening and closing the door softly. Lock the door and put the key back above it. Slip out of the house and put on my shoes. Across the street and up the drainage pipe, in through my window.

And my room is still how I left it last night, the open suitcase on my bed, dresser drawers still pulled out to be emptied, my desk chair knocked over.

Sigh and shake my head, heading back over to the dresser, where I left off. For some strange reason, it’s harder for me to believe it this time that, in a few hours, my whole world will change, again. Maybe it’s all that I’m leaving. Maybe … maybe it’s because, for once in my life, for once, I actual feel wanted, needed, cherished? Maybe … maybe if there wasn’t Pam, or Edward, or Dad or any of them. Max and me. Maybe that’s what home feels like.

But if I hand my heart over to him on a platter, will he ignore the cuts and bruises and blood and guts? Will he look past all of it and see just how scared I am and just protect me forever? Will he still chose me with my tainted soul and my tattered mentality? Has he already?

Close the empty dresser drawers and walk slowly over to my desk. Lift my chair upright and grip onto it tightly. Close my eyes and bite my lips as my lips, my body, my whole being trembles. My mind blanks as comforting warmth washes over me and scans and quarantines my mind, pushing away and hiding the badness.

What was I doing again? Oh, yeah … packing. Walk back over to my suitcase with a few more things from my desk. La da-da di-dah.

A couple of hours later, the doorbell chimes and after a while, my bedroom door swings open and in walks a tall and lanky boy.

“Liz, it’s seven forty five. We’ve got to get a move on.” Alex is so animated when he talks. He jumps up and down and his arms just seem to go everywhere. I’m going to miss that. “Hop to it. Come on, let’s go, let’s go,” he’s clapping his hands and pointing over to the door.

I smile and laugh and shake my head. “It’s okay, Alex. I’m not going to school today.”

“Liz,” his hands go on his hips.

My smile widens from where I’m sitting, at my desk, and I motion with my finger for him to “come here.”

“What?” he walks closer, crouching a bit so he’s closer to my level. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

I’m not normally the touchy feely type, but my arms go around his neck while I stand up from my seat, hugging him. “Thank you, Alex. You are the best.”

“Are you feeling okay?” One of his hands is hugging me back and the other is feeling my forehead.

Shrug and smile. “I just miss you. That’s all.” And I’ll miss you even more in a few hours.

“Miss me?” he laughs and pulls back. “Liz, you see me at least four times a day at school, not to mention we work together.”

I just nod my head and try my best to keep the sadness from reaching my smile. Not anymore, Alex. Not anymore.

His head tilts to the side while he’s got this sort of quirky look on his face. “Is Max getting to you?”

Whoa … wait … “what?”

“Because, honey,” he’s rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “you’re getting to him. All he does is harp on and on about you.” Watch Alex sigh and he gives me this sympathetic kind of knowing smile. “You’re confusing and twisting him around like a pretzel.”

Wait. What … “what exactly does he tell you?” Do you know what I mean to him? Do you know what he means to me?

Alex subtly avoids the question by looking at his watch. “Look, sweet pea. I have to get to school or I’ll be late, but I’ll talk to you later … just …” he pauses and his smile slips a little, “lighten up on him a little, okay.”

Lighten up? I can do better than that. I can eradicate my burdensome self from his life forever. From yours too, Alex. “Goodbye.”

“Wait, Liz …” he stops at the door and points towards my bed. “What’s the suitcase for?”

“Oh, just packing away some things.” I didn’t lie. It isn’t a lie. Just keep telling myself that over and over again and I won’t feel so bad. Because, out of everyone, Alex has never, ever let me down. And I didn’t lie.

“Right …” he drawls the word out while he walks back over to me. And I think he knows something’s up. I think he knows something’s not right. Because he’s too smart for his own good. He hugs me tight and whispers in my ear. “Goodbye, Liz.”

The door closes behind him and I spend ten more minutes trying to pull myself together before I get back to whatever it was I was doing.

I finish packing up my clothes in my suitcase. I empty out my desk, take whatever else I think I might need to take with me, and shove it all in my backpack. And now, it’s just one last sweep over everything before I say goodbye to it all.

Check the closet, check the drawers, check the bathroom, check the desk, check the dresser, check the bed. And that’s what I forgot, the most important things. Check under the bed. I pull out my memorabilia box and my mother’s journal. God, it’s been the longest time since I was sitting in the courtroom that day, clutching this thing for dear life.

Shake my head and stuff it inside my backpack. But something falls out, a newspaper clipping, or what looks like a newspaper clipping. I flip it over and … it’s me. But wait, I don’t have blue eyes. Stare at it for a while before it hits me … it’s Mom.

I flip through the rest of her journal to try to find the article that went with it but there isn’t one. The rest were just her writings, doodlings, and some memorabilia stuff taped in. Zip the journal up in my backpack and place it on top of my suitcase, beside the door. Walk back over to the bed, sit back where I was, looking at the picture again. What could it have been about? It’s old and it’s yellow and it’s cut out to where it’s just the picture with the caption: Annabelle Ross, the only daughter of Milton and Claudia Ross.

Annabelle Ross.

Wait … “In Roswell, her name was Annabelle Ross.”

Annabelle Ross. Mom? Mom was Annabelle Ross? But she was Anna Harding. Harding, like Edward, Mom’s cousin.


|| “Get out of that town, Liz. Get out of there now. And get as far away from Edward Harding as you possibly can. He isn’t your mother’s cousin.” ||


Wait … Dad, what aren’t you trying to tell me?

Annabelle Ross. Ross. It sounds familiar. I think about it and this picture pops up in my mind, a picture that I saw a long time ago. And I’m surprised I remember it, to the tee.

Pull out my box of memorabilia stuff and dig through it for what I’m looking for. I find a little photo album at the bottom of all of the junk. I flip through and about the third picture is the one I want, the one I remember.

It’s an old and faded picture of two men, both standing in what looks like some kind of military uniforms. But it doesn’t look familiar from anything I’ve seen in history books. Not from the Gulf War or World War II or World War I for that matter. But on the left breast of the uniform is the name: Ross. Grandpa Milton.

Flip through some of the other pictures and sure enough, there’s one with mom as a child, two adults standing behind her, her parents. Mom was an only child. Turn the page and I find two even older pictures of another set of like families, two parents and a child each, only one family with a daughter and the other with a son. Pull the pictures out and on the backs it has “Claudia Wilkenson” and the other “Milton Ross.”

Grandpa Milton and Grandma Claudia. I remember Mom mentioning them. She used to say that I was lucky that she didn’t treat me like they treated her. She said that they smothered her and wouldn’t give her any room to breathe. Whereas Mom did the exact opposite, she was never there and I didn’t know how to breathe.

Sigh and shake my head, putting the pictures back in their sleeves with care. After all, they’re old. And it hits me. Grandpa Milton was an only child too. And so was Grandma Claudia. Which means Mom had no aunts or uncles. Which means she couldn’t have a cousin. But where did the name Harding come from?

“Elizabeth, what are you doing? Why are you not in school?”

He shocks the hell out of me and I drop everything. “I was just …” Pause while I catch my breath. Compose myself and look up at the not so amused looking Edward Harding, with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for me to answer. “I was looking at pictures.”

“And that is why you are not in school?” And the irritation is just so obvious. “How it is that you are your mother’s child, I have no clue.”

What? Is he questioning the maternity of my genetics? Can he not fucking see that “I look just like her.”

“But you are not like her,” he comes closer to the bed, practically shouting. Angry and evil. “If you were, we would not have a problem. But you are not. You are tainted and ill-bred.”

He’s standing next to the bed, hovering over me and I just have my head bowed, taking it and thanking God that I only have to put up with him this one last time.

“This!” he points to the newspaper clipping on the bed. “This is what you should look like!”

Stare at the picture. “Annabelle Ross?”

“Yes.”

My eyes skim over the caption again. “It says right here that Mom was an only child.”

“Yes. Only one child is needed,” he says it like it’s a well known fact.

And if that’s his theory, then “so Grandpa Milton and Grandma Claudia are only children too?”

“Yes.”

My head goes up and I look at him dead on. “Then how are you her cousin?” Answer me that, Edward.

He pauses, he thinks, he smirks. “I’m not.”


|| “Get as far away from Edward Harding as you possibly can. He isn’t your mother’s cousin.” ||


What are you telling me, Daddy? “But the child custody people, they said-“

“It’s amazing what money can buy.” His smirk grows more and more.

And it’s starting to get to me. I back up away from him, scooting closer towards the middle of the bed. “She wasn’t a Harding, was she?”

“Oh, she was,” and even his voice is evil. Evil Edward is cynical and conniving.

And I have to shake my head. “No. Grandpa’s war photo, the name on his uniform was Ross, not Harding. And … and Mom’s picture … in the caption it said Annabelle Ross, not-”

I scoot away further and he leans down on the bed. “Harding wasn’t your mother’s maiden name.”

Freeze and just stare at him. “Then what was it?”

He straightens back up and cocks his head to one side. “Did she ever tell you that she was previously married?”

Previously married? “You mean before Dad?”

“Dad?” he spits the word out, shaking his head at me, sneering at me like I’m filthy. “What sort of moniker is that? Dad.

Previously married? My eyes go wide as a thought occurs to me … “To you! She was married to you.” That’s why he’s fucking obsessed with her. That’s why he’s resents my resemblances to Dad. That’s why he’s so fucked up.

“Yes. And Annabelle and I would have created the perfect child, if she wasn’t such a fool to have run off. And now all that I’m left with is you,” he sneers at me and I feel filthy. “And I highly doubt that you would be anymore suitable for Maxwell than that blonde haired whore.”

What? Suitable for Maxwell? What is he talking about? If she hadn’t run off? I don’t understand.

“You could have been born perfect, Elizabeth.” He walks around to the foot of the bed, his eyes staying on me the enter time. “But, no. You are tainted with earthly dirt. And those muddy eyes …” he shudders at me “… repulsive.”

I back up further until I hit the headboard. The way he’s pacing about the bed is scary. He’s scary. Watch him walk back and forth, holding his chin and thinking until he stops, staring at me straight on.

“I have made up my mind. I did not want to do this, but you leave me no choice, Elizabeth. There is too much wrong with you,” he’s shaking his head at me. “You’re too malformed. Not all the teaching and primping in the world could fix you in time now.”

What is he talking about? “In time for what?”

“We’ll just have to start over.” He starts his pacing back up, talking to himself. “We’ll start over and this one will be perfected for Khivar’s heir that that sorry excuse for a surrogate has growing inside of her.” He stops again and there’s this gleam of a smile on his face now, like his mind is made up, like he has a plan. And I have a strong feeling against it. “I’ll have a proposal sent to Khivar immediately. But we have no time to waste.”

With all that he babbles on about, my mind blanks, everything goes white and things just come forth …


|| “You know, I heard she got pregnant. Do you think it is Max’s? It could be. Or maybe she cheated on him and that’s why she was sent away.” ||


|| "Far, far away." ||


|| “It’s fun loving a King, isn’t it? Get me so besotted with you that you could have anything you want? Because I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.” ||


|| “Because you’re with Max and Max’s life is something everyone wants to know about, even if he isn’t in power.” ||


|| “Khivar has taken over Antar.” ||


|| “Sorry excuse for a surrogate has growing inside of her.” ||

|| “Perfected for Khivar’s heir that that sorry excuse for a surrogate has growing inside of her.” ||


… Click, click, go the pieces in my mind …

Too many thoughts rush through my head. Surrogate? Replacement. Pamela. Pam is pregnant. But it’s not Max’s. She cheated on him, and she was sent away. Far, far away. Another galaxy, away. It’s fun loving a king, isn’t it? But Max isn’t in power anymore. Khivar has taken over Antar. Pam’s pregnant. Khivar’s heir. Things click.

Oh my god! They’re a…ali…a…

Alex. Brad. Doug. Sean. Tess. Ma-M … they’re all … no! No, no, no.

“She won’t be as perfect as had Annabelle and I procreated, but she’ll be far more worthy and proper than you will ever be. With purer blood running through her veins as well. She won’t be completely perfect, but she’ll do. Oh, she’ll do alright.”

The bed shifts and I finally notice that Edward’s on the bed, hovering over me, grabbing my hands. “Wait … wait … what-what are you doing?”

Jerk my hands away, but he has them gripped by the wrists. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. I’ll be gentle.”

There’s a sick smile on his face and my face, my whole being drops. Fucking shit. Turn, twist, kick and shove. The bastard. Sick bastard. Get off of me! But my hands get pushed up to the headboard and glued there. But it’s crazy messed up shit, scary and confusing because there’s nothing keeping them there, nothing tying them, nothing. But I can’t pull them away. Panic, jerk, kick and cry. “Stop, stop, please to God, don’t do this.”

“You’re really testing me here, Elizabeth.” I want to push him off of me. I want to kick him, kick him where it hurts. And I just want to get away from him, but I can’t. Because he made my hands stick to the headboard. He’s sitting on my legs. And he’s pushing down on my stomach.

Squirm, cry, panic, jerk and plead. “Please, please stop.” But he just won’t let me up. He just keeps holding me down. And I don’t know if I have the energy to keep fighting back. God, don’t do this! Please don’t do this!

He lifts my shirt up a bit and goes for the button of my jeans.

I jerk myself from him as hard as I can but it doesn’t even faze him. “Please, stop!”

“Hush now.”

Scream, holler, squirm, panic and cry. “Stop!” Please to God! “Help!” Don’t do this! Save me “Max!”

“I said, hush.” And his hand clamps down on my mouth while the other keeps going to unzip my jeans. Squirm, jerk, squirm and panic until I can’t fight anymore. My body goes numb and I just … my mind starts to just go. I want it to. A hand grips my bare waist. “God, you’re too tiny. How is a baby going to fit in there?”

But he’s not just covering my mouth, he’s covering my nose too. And I can’t breath. Squirm and kick, but it’s useless. And after a while, everything blurs. I feel pressure in my gut, something churning and twisting my insides. It’s bubbling, boiling, aching all over.

Fuzzy whiteness starts ebbing through my mind and I just want to go away. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to be across the street, lying in a warm bed with warm arms soothing me. I want to be there. I want to be with Max.

Max …

And I hear … I can hear him. Or maybe I’m just imagining it, because something is still pushing down on my face. My vision fuzzes over, everything goes weak and I just fall back, with nothing left but darkness to catch me … “Max.”


|| “Let her go,” and suddenly, I remember being held up in an alley, I remember hearing his voice, and I remember not being able to move.

“And if I don’t, Evans?” and I remember Sean … Sean being the one holding me there.

“You’ll regret it.” Max comes closer.

“There’s nothing you can do, Evans.”

“I’m claiming her.” Max glances over at me and offers me a smile.

Sean laughs, an evil ugly laugh. “You wouldn’t, Evans. You don’t do shit like that. Besides, Tess already called her.”

“I’m pulling rank.”

“You can’t.”

“Just watch me.”

“You’ve never done it before. You never gave a damn about any of it before.”

“I’m starting now.”

“Fine. Sorry. But what do you want her for? She’s nothing.”

“I like brunettes.”

“Fine. I’m sorry to have been of nuisance.”

“Hey Liz. Come here. Did he hurt you?”
||


There are hot gushes of pressure on my mouth, a tugging on my nose. It’s like a hot lamp and a hissing in me, calling me back.

It feels like there’s bad air that’s choking my system. And my body’s making me throw it up. Cough is out and it’s like my insides want to go with it. Something pulls and pokes and tugs inside me and it fucking hurts … make it stop.

“Liz, Liz, what’s wrong?”

I hear him … I hear him, but I can’t … I can’t. Ahh … “It hurts.”

“Where? Where does it hurt?” Is he really here? Max. Max, make him go away. Max, don’t let him hurt me. Max, take me with you. Love me and keep me safe. Please.

“Here? Does it hurt here?”

Pressure and searing pain. “Ahh!” God, make it stop!

“Liz, I’m going to … I’m going to just … I’m going to take a look okay? It’s going to hurt.”

No. No more hurting. No more. Pressure, pain, whimper. “Ahhh!” Stop, please.

“Ah … fuck! That fucking bastard!”

Open my eyes and he’s here. “Max.” My Max, hovering over me, breathing hard and looking frantic. Does he feel my pain? Does he know what’s wrong? “Max?”

He doesn’t want to say. But he needs to. Because it hurts. Because I know something’s wrong. He doesn’t want to say. But I know. His eyes close and his lip trembles. Tell me, Max. Tell me. His eyelashes are wet. Reach out and brush my thumb across them. Soulful eyes open and stare into me. “He shifted everything around inside you.” To make room for a baby. That bastard!

But I attempt a nod because I know. Because it hurts. Because it’s hard to breathe and it’s hard to feel anything other than myself slipping. Is this what dying is like? Is this how it ends? In loving arms?

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I just …” he’s moving around. The bed shifts everywhere and it feels like an earthquake. “I just have to move everything back, that’s all.” He tries to smile at me, to tell me that “it’s okay.” But I know it’s not. I know it because I feel it. Am I ready?

Pressure and pain. But it’s not intense. It’s not uncontrollable because I’m slipping … and I’m not feeling … eyes close and my body falls. Whether I’m ready or not, I’m giving in.

“Liz. Liz, I … I can’t connect close enough. I’m going to need you to help me.”

I can’t, Max. Try again in the next lifetime. I’ll love you then.

“Liz. Liz! Open your eyes, Liz! Look at me! Stay with me! Don’t leave! I love you, Liz. I love you. Please?”

The pain builds. His voice is louder. And I can’t. I’ve already given in. I’ve already lost my grip on the world. It’s him. It’s him that’s making me stay. It’s Max that’s holding me here.

Let me go, Max. Just “let me go.”

“No!! Liz, baby, please. Open your eyes and look at me. I can fix this. Just stay with me a little longer.”

“I can’t.” I can’t do that. I want to stay for you, but I have to leave … for me.

“You told me that you were here if I needed you. I need you, Liz. You can’t break that promise! You can’t leave me!”

My mind blanks …


|| “Promises are worth shit, right? Then why do we make promises, if they aren’t worth anything? Why do we hold on to them so tightly?”

“They’re worth as much as we believe them to be worth. They’re only as high as we value them to be.”

“Promises are cheap. Actions speak truth.”

“How so?”

“Like, if you were to tell me that you love me, it wouldn’t mean a … wrong analogy.”

“I do care.”

“Not enough.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you just care too much. What is it you want, Max?”

“You.”

“I’m here.”
“I’m here.”
||


Ugh … blanking … colors … ache … pains … pressure … Max …

“Liz? Love?”

“Huh?” I think it’s him. I think he’s still there. But I can’t open my eyes. Not just yet.

“Okay. It’s okay, right? Everything should be fine now.” He’s not as frantic. His voice isn’t as loud. He’s soft. He’s tired. I’m tired. “Liz?”

Grunt and moan. Grunt because there’s a soft pressure on my forehead before I moan because there’s pressure on my stomach that feels like a big jolt of pain.

“It’s … it’s still a little sore. I’m sorry.” It eases and I breathe again. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

Sorry? Don’t be. “Ed … he … ….”

“I know, Liz. I know. It’s okay now. He’s gone. You’re safe with me.”

Max? Wait … things … and he … Max?

“I’m … I’m fine. I’m just … I’m a little … drained … too much excitement for me.” He’s smiling, or trying to. And I don’t know if this is the smiling time because … things … and he …

“It’s okay? Just a little soreness. It’ll heal. It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?”

Slight pressure before the pain echoes through the walls of my body. “Ugh …”

“Liz, I’m just … I’m so exhausted. I’m sorry. Can-can you bear the pain?”

Eyes open and I look at him. And no. It can’t be. This is Max. Max is normal and real and here and … he’s Max, not … not some …


|| “You don’t want to know my secrets.”

“I do.”

“Some things are better left unknown, Liz.”

“Whatever it is, Max … Whatever it is that you’re too scared to tell me… It’s okay. Because in the end, you’re still Max. The same Max who is helping me get through a really tough time. And the same one who is always willing to be there for me. You’re still Max. Still my Max.”

“Sometimes … I just want to be normal.”

“What’s so great about normal?”

“Liz … I’m … different …”

“What do you mean?”

His hand gripping my wrist, the light, my scar … vanished …
||


“No.” It can’t be …

“Wait … just … hold still, let me try again.”

No. No, no, no. Don’t touch me. Don’t…

“Liz, just … just let me do this. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m fine. I can do this.”

More pressure and more light and more of his … his … magic? Voodoo? Curses? No, no, no. Inside me and … slimeyness … and al …

“There … that should … it should …”

He-it … he looks drained. And why wouldn’t he be? Putting his ali… hands on me and … and playing with my mind … with my body … oh god … Please … just “get off of me …”

“What? Liz? I …”

It st-He … he stops and looks towards the door that just came open, wide open with Jeff and Nancy standing there, staring at me.

“Liz? What’s going on?”

“Help.” It’s all I could manage out. It’s all they need to hear while they stare around the room, taking in all that is wrong with the scene before Jeff rushes to me and shoves Max off of me.

“Nancy, we’re getting out of here. Take Liz’s bags and start the car up. I’m grabbing Liz.” I can see her picking up the suitcase near the door and my backpack before she runs out.

I can hear Max. I can feel him pulling at me. And I’m trying to get up and get away because I need to go. I need to get away from him and everyone else. Jeff and Nancy are here to take me away and I need to go. But something is keeping me here and I don’t want it to.

Jeff. Jeff is here. Jeff will help. Look at him, frantic. “Help.”

He’s on the bed, looking down at me before his head turns to Max. “What did you do to her, you freak!?”

“I … I didn’t …” I can hear him. Confused. Worried. Scared. I can hear it in him. Part of me yearns to comfort him but I can’t … because I’m scared… because he’s not … “Liz …”

Jeff picks me up and I just let my haze take over as Jeff’s voice warns out. “Don’t come near us. Hank was right. This … this whole town is crazy.”

Blanking and weakness. Voices fading away …

“No … wait! Liz! Wait! Come back! Liz!”



--------------



I woke up a few minutes later. I sat up a couple of minutes after that. Nancy and Jeff start asking me questions, telling me things. I lie back down and close my eyes.


|| “Mommy, when did you and Daddy get married?” I remember asking her when she helped me change from my dress into pajamas after getting back from one of Daddy’s friend’s wedding.

“Well, Elizabeth,” she starts, while sitting perfectly on the edge of my bed, hanging my dress on a hanger and handing it to me to put away in my closet, “we’ve been married ever since before you were born.”

“Wow,” it amazes me because “I’m six years old! You’ve been married that long?”

She laughs. “Well, a little longer than that.”

I sit down next to her, my back straight, but I could never mimic her poise or her dainty, yet superior, aura, quite right. “When I grow up, will I get married too?”

“Honey,” she lays me down, pulling the covers from under me and tucking me in, “somewhere out there, there is your very own little prince charming, thinking of you right now, waiting to find you. And when he does, you will feel it, and you will be his world and he will do everything for you. He will love you eternally, beyond anything you’ve ever felt.”

“Really?” Excitement and hope sparkles in my eyes.

“I promise.” She stands up and starts out of my room.

She turns out the light and my nose scrunches. “But I thought Prince Charming was only in fairytales.”

She smiles that smile of hers, pulling the door behind her. “Darling, you’re living one.”
||


My eyes open and I’m staring at the carpety floor of a dingy little car. This isn’t a fairytale, Mommy. This is a nightmare. I’ll feel it, she said. Have I felt it already? Was that it? Tugs and pulls. And this physical and emotional want? To someone who isn’t … he’s not …

The car turns and my body is thrown up a bit. “We have to stop for gas. Everyone go to the bathroom now if you need to. Grab food if you’re hungry. We aren’t making any more stops until we’re far away from this Godforsaken alien town.”

The car stops and the engine cuts off. The doors open. Mine opens seconds later. “Liz, Jeff is filling up the gas. I’ll grab us all some food and drink. Why don’t you go wash up a bit? You look … tired.”

I look like shit. Get out of the car and walk into the dingy and dusty gas station. A chime goes off as I pull open the door. I look at the attendant and he points towards the back corner at a sign that says restrooms. I didn’t even have to ask. It’s probably because I look like shit.

Go inside and walk over towards the sink, almost slipping on a candy wrapper on the way there. My shoe sticks to the floor and I look down to see that I have stepped in gum and it is stuck to my shoe. Check for paper towels … and there aren’t any. Pick up the candy wrapper and scrape the gum off with it.

There’s a Wonder Woman on the outside of the wrapper. It makes me think that, either this gas station sells some really outdated candy, or they haven’t cleaned their bathroom in a really long time. And then it makes me smile and my mind haze.


|| "I’m going to tell you your fortune, okay? It says right here that diamonds are in your future. And seven is your lucky number. A big day is coming up for you in three days. Prom. And, um, your favorite superhero is Wonder Woman.”
d 7
3 W
||


Max E. hearts Liz P.

Shake my head and my smile slips right off. I throw the wrapper in the trash nearby before I head back towards the sink, bracing myself. Something big is going to happen right here, right now. I can feel it.

Shake my thoughts again and lean down, splashing water on my face. Reach for some paper towels, and I remember, they’re out. “Great … typical.” Pull my shirt up and wipe off my face with it.

Look in the mirror and see if my face still looks as disgusting as I feel and I freeze. My mouth comes open and I just stare at my reflection. Under my shirt, right on my stomach, on my skin, there is a handprint, his handprint, his handprint that’s silver … and glowing.

“Don’t worry. It’ll fade.”

Gasp, spin around, and in the corner, leaning casually against the wall is “… Max.” Am I imagining him? Is he real?

He’s shaking his head at me. “All the packing. And how they just happened to show up to grab your suitcase and go. You were planning this, on leaving … leaving me.”

He pushes off and starts towards me. Menacing doesn’t quite describe the vibe he’s giving me. “You weren’t even going to tell me, were you? You were just going to pick up and go. Forget the people you leave behind.”

I back up further and further until he notices and stops where he is, in the middle of the restroom, staring at me with intense eyes. “And what was last night about, huh? How could you put me through that if you were just going to leave me?”

Shake my head and stare at the dirty tiled floor, my voice coming out hushed, “You were the one who asked me to stay … just a night.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he sounds lost and tired and I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but I don’t want to feel it. “Liz …” His arm comes out and I jerk back.

My eyes still glued to the floor, my voice still barely a whisper, “What are you doing here, Max?”

There’s a pause and I think he’s waiting for something, but there’s nothing for him, especially not here and not from me. “I came to take you home.”

Shake my head. “That’s not my home, Max. It’s yours.”

“Let’s go, Liz.”

“Don’t you get it?” My eyes finally lift to look at him and he looks different. It’s crazy because, although it felt like forever, it couldn’t have actually been more than twenty minutes since I was in Roswell, with him. “I don’t belong there, Max. God, that whole town is … it’s filled with … with aliens. And … and you’re one of them.”

My revelations are shaking my whole world, but they don’t faze him. His expression doesn’t even change as he stares back at him. “But you knew that.”

“What? How could I have known?” He comes closer and I back away.

“Your scars, your weird memories, the blanking out, the healing, all of the weird, unexplainable things that happened,” he lists them all out, still staring at me intensely, not blinking. “I know you saw them all and it had to have registered in your head that something was screwy. You just didn’t let yourself believe it. But deep down … you knew.”

I try to breathe and I try to think and I try to not hear his words, but I can’t do everything at the same time. I have to get out of here. I need to … “You should leave. Je-Jeff is going to notice that I’ve been gone too long and he’s going to come looking for me.”

But Max doesn’t budge. He still stands, still stares, still pleads his case, “Come back with me, Liz.”

“No, Max. No.” He comes closer and I hit the wall. His hand comes out … I panic. “Don’t touch me.”

“Liz …”

His fingers grip my arm and I whimper and shake. Eyes squeeze shut. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He lets go but I can still feel where his hand was, its warmth burning my skin. “I would never hurt you.”

Open my eyes, but I’m still shaking. “But you did, Max. You do.” Just being around you hurts because it doesn’t make sense and it’s so confusing and dizzy and my head just spins and I can’t get away from you fast enough because one second more might just be enough to plant me here, and it will only get worse and worse.

“When? How? How did I hurt you?! All I’ve ever done was love you! And what do I get out of it? You leaving me?!” Look at him and he’s shaking too, shaking with intensity, shaking with emotions. “Does everything we had together mean nothing to you? Do I mean nothing? Because- God, Liz … you mean everything to me.”

Something clicks in my head but I can’t hear it because my heart is thumping too loudly and I’m trying to breathe. And I want to be able to think and be able to register these things in my mind but I can’t because “This … this whole alien thing is just … too much for me. I-”

“Then we’ll get away from it.”

“What?” What is he talking about?

“We can go somewhere else. Anywhere you want. Just as long as you’re with me, I don’t care about anything else.”

Am I hearing this? He wants us to go AWOL and missing? He wants to just drop everything? His responsibilities and duty? “What about Alex? Or Maria? Or Michael? Or the rest of your ali… people? You’re their king, Max. Nothing will change that. No matter how far we run-”

“How did you know that?” He’s staring at me and I blank.

Take a few breaths. “What?”

“That I’m their king. I’m not an-and I’m not in power, but … how did you know that?”

“I-I don’t …”

“It’s a part of you. You can feel it, can’t you?” He’s smiling now and it’s freaky and it’s scary.

And I … I can’t … “No.”

“I knew it,” there’s excitement in his words, in his voice. “I knew there was a reason why there’s such a pull towards you, why it felt so right being with you. Don’t you get it, Liz? We were meant to be together.”

Shake my head and scoot further away. “What are you talking about, Max?”

But he doesn’t even hear me. He just keeps spewing out words that don’t make sense to me. “You’re nothing like Pamela. He was right, Pam was the replacement. You are the girl. You were made for me.”

No. No. “That’s eerie, Max. That’s ‘Silence of the Lamb’ eerie.” And I can’t … I can’t deal with that right now.

“Don’t you feel it? This force, this attraction, this pull? To me?”

Tugs and pulls? I’d feel it, she said. I’d feel it and I’d know. “No …”

“Liz …”

He steps closer and there’s nowhere for me to go. “Please, don’t touch me. Please. Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

He’s silent until I open my eyes to look at him, making sure I actually hear his words, “Because I love you.”

No! You can’t and you don’t because you’re not real. You’re not real so “don’t say that!”

“It’s how I feel.” I can’t make out his expression with my eyes blurred over but I’m glad that I can’t because if I did, I know I’d crumble. I know, because I could hear it in his voice and I can feel it in me.

And I can’t take the feeling right now. Max may be able to think straight and welcome this feeling and like it, but I can’t. “You may, Max. But I don’t.”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve felt it, Liz. I know you love me.” And everything is quivering and shaking and just out of control. “It’s in your blood. And it’s in mine.” Don’t say it. Please, please don’t say it. “… I love you, Liz.”

My world quakes and trembles. “Then let me go.”

“But I need you. And-and you need me.”

Shake my head … because I don’t want to hear it. Because words like those shake me and I’ve already been shook enough.

Scour at my eyes. Look up and his are red too, an agonizing smirk on his face, his words jagged and hoarse, “You needed me last night though. Wanted me so badly you were begging me.”

And all I can do is deny it, because … because … because I don’t know anymore.

I can hear him laugh a painful laugh. “You wanted my body. It sounds ridiculous, but that’s just it. That’s all you wanted. But I want more than that, Liz. I want your everything.”

Well, you can’t have it, Max, because “I can’t give you that.”

“What can you give me?”

“Nothing.” Because I have nothing to give. Because “this isn’t where I belong. This isn’t even where I want to be.”

I stop and I can just hear him breathing out words. “You don’t want to be with me?”

Stare at him for a second, bite my lip and shake my head because I don’t know what else to do.

“I don’t believe you.”

Laugh and cry and shatter my world. “Would you listen to yourself? You’re only hearing what you want to hear. Open up your ears, Max, and listen to me! I don’t want you.”

“You don’t want to be with me?” he whispers and I weep.

My vision blurs, my eyes shut, my head shakes.

When my eyes open, he’s physically closer, but he’s emotionally drifting away. How do I know? I can feel it. I’d feel it, she said. “Tell me you love me.”

“What? No.” Don’t make me. I can’t because … because I …

“Tell me you love me and I’ll leave.”

“No,” it’s all I can say. It’s all I can push out.

“Please, just … y-you don’t even have to mean it, I just… I just want to hear you say it … just once.”

He’s tired and I’m tired but I can’t … because … because …

“Please? Just so I can know that I at least meant something to you?”

Tear at me and take it all. Don’t do this to me, Max.

“God, just so that I can pretend that I meant something to you?”

Trickle, tremble, shake and shatter.

“Please, Liz?”

Desperation and tears. Misery, fear, devotion. I can’t, Max. I can’t because “… I love you.”

His hand reaches out and all I can do is cling as close to the tiled walls as I can, eyes shutting, teeth clenched with tears running down my cheeks. But all I feel is a slight tug on my shirt and around my neck, not the bright light exploding from my forehead like I expected. Wait … was I expecting that?

Open my eyes slowly and he’s still right there, so close. He’s staring down at the necklace, the jewel in his hand. Take it. Take it back, Max. Take it. I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want anything that has to do with you.

His head lowers and maybe he’ll jerk it right off of me. But he doesn’t. His lips brush against it and it … it … glow doesn’t quite describe what it does but it gleams the purest crystal bright blue …

He lets go but I yank at the chain before the jewel touches me, before it can burn me. It breaks and the necklace falls to the ground. It clinks and I run. I had to.

I had to run out and throw myself into the backseat and slam the door beside me. I had to leave him there, right then, in the gas station and I couldn’t look back, because I didn’t belong there and I couldn’t take the devastation, his nor mine. The tears, the aching, inside and out. It was too much.

But he loved me. I believed it at that moment more than any other moment I’d ever had with him. He loved me. Not because he told me so, and not because he begged me to stay, but because he was willing to let me go, all for three little words.



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 8:57 pm, edited 9 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Six:
-------------------------------------------------



The world is my oyster. What that means, I’m not quite sure. The world is my oyster. Does that make me its pearl? The world is my oyster. My world looks rough and concrete on the outside, but on the inside, it’s gooey and messy and slimy. Things aren’t always as they seem?

My head is confused. Too many things are being thrown about that I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. But I do feel something.

I feel hot. I feel sticky. I feel a gut-wrenching pain beyond belief. And I feel as though my life isn’t really happening. I feel like it’s all been one freakish nightmare and I’ll be waking up from it soon and everyone would just have been a figment of my imagination. Alex, Maria, Edward Harding, Tess, Max … Max.

An hour has passed and my head is still thumping. An hour since I saw him last and his voice still echoes in my mind …


|| “Just so that I can pretend that I meant something to you?” ||


An hour and I still just want to cry because that statement couldn’t be more wrong. How could he think that? How could he not know what he meant to me? Means to me?

Because you told him otherwise. Damn the voice inside my head. I’m in love with an alien. Wait …

Jeffrey curses again from where he is, leaning in under the hood of his malfunctioned car, where he’s been for the past half hour ever since the engine stopped and we were stalled here, on the side of the road. And Jeffrey just going on about the car, checking this and that to try and fix it, with Nancy nearby him, like the good wife that she is.

And I just keep sitting there on the side of the road with my arms wrapped around my legs, my head laying on my knees, the kicked up dirt entering my lungs and the sun burning my skin, just thinking, and yet not really thinking. I don’t know. I’m even confusing myself.

Shake my head and just scoff because “I am in love with an alien.”

“What was that Liz?” Jeffy-boy calls over and I didn’t realize that I said that out loud.

My head stays down and I just … when did my life turn into the twighlight zone?

“Honey, go see what’s wrong with Liz,” he orders to Nancy. I’m being mean. It wasn’t an order. It was a command.

“How are you feeling, Liz?” She’s squatting down on the ground beside me, her arm around my shoulder. I hold back the urge to shrug her off of me.

“Are you okay?” Why she persists with her asking, I have no idea.

Of course I’m not okay. My life is a fucked up sci-fi movie. My dad’s in jail. I’m skipping out of the town where I’ve had more friends than anywhere else in my life. I’m hot. I’m sticky. And I’m in love with an alien … but is that really a problem?

Sigh and drop my arms to the ground. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

She smiles a sympathetic smile at me. “I know, dear. But pretty soon, this whole ordeal will be over and everything will be behind us. And you can start a new life. You can finish out school and make new friends. And college. Huh?”

But the thing is, I don’t want a new life. Wait … what am I saying? Ugghh …

Tuck my head back into my chest and my arms go back up to block everything out. After a second, Nancy goes back to her post next to Jeff.

Aliens, Liz. Aliens. They are all aliens. They tried to hurt you. They did their Jedi-mind tricks on you. You can’t trust them.

And I just want to collapse and scream. Everything is so … grr!

I can’t trust them? But I did. The Whitman’s took me in, fed and sheltered me. Alex watched out and took care of me. Max loved me.

BUT THEY’RE ALIENS, LIZ!

But what makes them alien? What makes them different? They don’t look different. They don’t talk different. They eat, they sleep, they cry. What makes them different?

They’re freaks. That’s what makes them different. They mess with your head and they screw with your life. They make you fall for them and they make it to where anyone else, anywhere else, just seems second best.

The tears start back again and I try to hold down the erratic breathing taking over my body. Why couldn’t they just be normal?


|| “What’s so great about normal?”||


Everything, Max. Everything is great about it because you don’t have freaky incidences. You don’t have the need to run away and hide from it all because it scares you. You don’t have illogical, irrational behavior ... you don’t have …

“Are you feeling any better?”

My head snaps up and I’m staring straight into the face of Nancy Parker. Lower my head again, “no. I’m not.”

“Well,” she starts up again in that sugary voice of hers, “why don’t you try busying yourself with something. Do you have a book or a CD player or something to pass the time?”

And although she’s talking to me like I’m a second grader, maybe getting my mind to stop thinking so much would be a good thing. “I think I packed my CD player in my backpack.”

“I’ll go get it.” She gives me a smile and goes off to the car. I think she’s glad to be doing something besides just standing next to Jeff while he’s being Mr. auto-mechanic.

“Here you go,” she hands me my bag.

I drop it on the ground and rummage through it. I unzip all of the pockets and search through each one. “Nope, not here.”

“Well, what’s this?” she points at something in my bag. “Oh, I remember you having this the first time we met. Remember?”

And I nod, pulling it out and placing it neatly in my lap, my hand running over the cover.

“Is it a book?” she asks and I shake my head, no. “Well, what is it then?”

Stare at it for a while, “it’s my mom’s journal.”

“Oh,” she sounds surprised. “Well, what does it say?”

Isn’t it pitiful how curiosity always gets the better of us? I shrug my shoulders, opening it to the first page, “I don’t know. I’ve never read it before.”

“You’ve had it all this time and you never once wondered what was inside?” she asks while already taking in what she could from the opened journal.

I shake my head no, because I already know what’s inside, my mom. Her thoughts, her writings.

“Oh, look. There’s a picture of you,” she says, pointing to a newspaper clip.

“Actually, no,” I say, staring down at the picture. “That’s a picture of Mom. See the blue eyes?”

Nancy picks it up and looks at it again closely. “Oh, yeah. I see now. Wow,” she puts the picture back in its spot in the journal and I flip over a few pages. “You look so much like her. I always thought you resembled your father. But looking at that picture of your mother … it’s uncanny.”

I just smile. Yup. I’m my mom’s kid alright. The hair, the shortness, I got it all.

We get to another picture of my mom as a child and Nancy picks it up to look at too. It’s my mom sitting on the doorsteps to a house in a pretty yellow dress. “This house looks familiar. Isn’t that the house we picked you up from?”

I nod my head. “Yeah. It’s the same house. It’s the one my mom grew up in.”

She hands me back the picture and I put it back in the journal. “Your mom grew up in … Roswell?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I flip through for some more pictures.

“Liz,” Nancy starts up slowly. “Since people in Roswell are… different. Do you think maybe … your mother …”

I look at her strangely for a second before a gust of wind blows and dust is kicked into our faces. My mouth was closed and my eyes blinked shut, but I still feel graininess about me. Open my eyes again and Nancy is brushing away some dust from her hair. Then she looks back down into my lap. The wind had blown the journal open to a new page.

Nancy’s eyebrows scrunch up and she points at a page in the journal. “Do you know what this says?” I look down at the scribbles on the page. “What language is that?”

I shake my head no as my fingers scan over the page.

“They look like hieroglyphics or something … but …” Nancy voice hushes.

And I stare at her because … I think I know what language it is. And the wheels are turning like crazy in my head at what this means.

She stares down at the page and then stares straight into my eyes, a terrified look on her face. “Liz …”

“Nancy, would you come over here?” Jeff interrupts and Nancy jumps up, rushing over to him.

“Yes, dear?” her voice is still shaky. I think she’s still processing. And it’s okay because I am too … processing.

It’s not hieroglyphics written in my mother’s journal. It’s not hieroglyphics at all. It’s symbols. It’s words. It’s significant. It’s alien. How do I know? I just do. I see the writings and I feel them inside me. But, what does that mean though? Why is there a … alien writing in my mother’s journal?

I know the answer. I know. But I can’t bring myself to accept it.

Mom was from Roswell, right? Roswell is an alien town, right? Put the pieces together Liz. Just connect the dots …

Is this the ‘special-ness’ Mom kept talking about? The ‘developing?’ Developing what? Bug eyes and green skin?

No. Bring my hands up and scour at my face, palms to my temples and nails digging into my skull. Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t he tell me? How could this be?


|| “She needs to know,” she yelled at him.

“No she doesn’t!” he yelled back.

“It’s a part of her, Hank.”
||


What part, Mom? What part?! It doesn’t make sense!

Aliens don’t exist! But they do, Liz. They do, a soft voice inside my head reminds me. You know this. Don’t deny it. And my mind starts playing for me the signs, the signs that I refused to see …

Alex lying helpless in a hospital bed … and then being perfectly fine not two days later …

Max healing my wounds and making my scars go away …

Edward Harding pinning me motionless to a bed …

Me dropping a hot pan on my thigh … the pain … and then nothing… no stinging … no burn mark …

… Whatever they are … Alex … Max … I’m like them.

Is that the part you’re talking about, Mom? The alien part? There. I said it. I’m … I …

“I found what’s wrong with the car. But I can’t fix it. There’s a crack which means we need to get a replacement part.” Jeff wipes his hands on his pants and straightens up. “I’ll walk to the nearest gas station and call a repair guy from there. How far away is the nearest gas station?” he asks Nancy but Nancy has other stuff on her mind right now.

“Jeff, I think we have something else to worry-” she talks too softly though.

“There was a sign back a few miles ago,” Jeff seems to be talking to himself, “but I don’t remember what it said.”

And I can just lift my head and smile. “Dusty’s Fill-n-Go. For all your convenient needs. Ten miles ahead.”

“You remember it, Liz?” he looks at me.

It’s funny because it wasn’t more than a glance as we zoomed by it illegally going way over the speed limit. But that’s how it works. Shrug. “Photographic memory.”

“Really?” he says kind of doubtfully.

But I just nod. “Yeah.” Damn my genetics.

“Jeff …” Nancy starts up again and he looks towards her.

“Nance? What’s wrong?” He’s staring into her face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Shove the journal back into my bag, zip it up and put it on while standing to my feet. I think that made up my decision. With how scared Nancy is, it just made it more clear for me that there is no other choice.

Walk towards the car, determined.

I don’t know exactly what I’m doing or even what I’m thinking for that matter. All I know is there are too many questions that need answering now. There’s too much going on that I just don’t understand. And there’s only one place where I’ll be able to find any answers.

Ignorance is bliss. I live by the saying. But, damnit! You can only stay blind for so long.

Open the back door and grab my suitcase. Close the door. Deep breath and I turn and walk away.

“Liz, what are you doing?” I can hear Jeff calling after me but I refuse to look back. I’ve made up my mind. And no matter how scared I am. No matter how terrified I am of what’s to come or what’s to become of me. I’ve made up my mind. And I am one stubborn mule that keeps walking.

“I think she’s going back.” I can hear Nancy. But their voices get fainter with every step I take.

“What is she, crazy?” he sounds a bit upset. “I’m not letting her-”

“Let her go, Jeff,” Nancy interrupts.

“No, Nancy, that town’s filled with aliens!”

I know, Jeffy-boy. I know. And I continue walking, backpack on my back and suitcase in hand, kicking up dust along the way.

I didn’t hear their voices anymore after that. I don’t think I’m going to see them anymore after that. But it’s okay.

Suitcase in hand, with miles to walk along a dingy, dirty, desolate road. And the hottest part of the day yet to come. But it’s okay.

Aliens have invaded my world. And I’m heading right back towards them.

Everything is peachy. And I’m scared shitless right now. Peachy.



--------------



Walking alone tired, hot, and sticky in the desert gives my mind more time to wander off in tangents than I have ever had during any empty workshifts at the Crashdown, or during the boringness of drone-like days in school.

But then again, when have I ever had this much to think about?

A big part of me is still in denial. A huge part of me still thinks I’m going to be waking from a freaky dream pretty soon. But almost all of me knows that it’s going to get a lot more complicated soon enough.

What with the alien-ness and all. I’ve been running the word through my head for hours. Saying it out loud even, until my throat got too parched to even try to talk anymore. Hours and hours of endless walking will do that to you.

Alien. I can say it. But have I really grasped the word? No.

Aliens aren’t green skinned and buggy-eyed. Look at Alex. Look at Max. Look at mom. Heck, look at me.

But am I alien because mom was? Is being part alien like being part Irish or part Indian or something? Can you be part alien?

What is this ‘special-ness’ that they possess?

Photographic memories run through Max and Alex. Max healed things. Tess … smelled stuff, I guess. But I never really saw anything out of anyone else, right? Sean … it was just weird with Sean.

So is it right to say that Roswell is an ‘alien-town’ when it just might be Alex and Max?

No. Shake my head. It isn’t just them. It is everyone there. I don’t know for sure, but … I can feel it. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Max was a king, or a ruler, or something. Max had power about him. You could practically picture a crown on his head. How do I know this? Again, I feel it.


|| “You just didn’t let yourself believe it. But deep down … you knew.” ||


His words just keep echoing in my head. And I’m just … frustrated. I want to see. I want to understand. I want to know what’s going to happen to me. What I might become. What I might not become. What exactly everything means. And what don’t I know that I should know.

Drag my feet a few more steps before I drop my bag and abandon the thing. I dropped the suitcase a while back. Back when the sun was beaming straight down on me and not a spot on my shirt wasn’t pretty much soaked in sweat.

The sun’s getting closer to the horizon behind me. There’s still plenty of light. It’s just orangey and fading instead of intense like earlier in the day. Way earlier. God knows how long I’ve been walking. But I have to keep on because something tells me, if I collapse out here, no one’s going to know to come find me.

My legs still drag along and I stumble over, I think, the tenth rock today? Stop, catch my breath a little.

My legs ache. My muscles ache. My brain hurts. And I look up to see a road sign with ROSWELL and a seven beside it. Seven more miles? I could have sworn the last sign said … like … two. Groan and fall to the ground. I think I’ve given up.

God, why are you doing this to me?

A car engine starts and I sit up in time to see it, at a distance in front of me, pulling into the road and driving off at high speed, in the direction I need to go. And I stare after the familiar car as Alex drives away, too far gone to notice if I had jumped up and down to try to get his attention, not that I had the energy to do so anyway.

Grumble and lean back on my arms, pouting. But the dust from Alex zipping off settles, and my mouth just hangs open, because I can’t be that lucky and it can’t be that easy. I have to be imagining his jeep there. The sun is setting and my mind is just playing tricks on me, right?

Get up and head over towards it slowly, waiting for it to disappear. But it doesn’t.

The closer I get, the bigger and clearer the jeep becomes as does the body lying motionless on the ground near it, clad in a t-shirt and jeans, dust all over him, like he collapsed there. And for a split second, I freak out. And it was in that split second that I run like the wind to him.

Oh my God. What happened? What happened? Was there an accident? Was there a murder? Am I too late? “Max. Oh my God, Max.” Scramble over his body and try to will life back in him. My hands run over his face … he’s warm.

His eyes open and a huge sigh of relief comes from me.

“Liz?”

Alien pops in my head. Fall off of him, backing away. And I just can’t help it. Alien.

“Liz?” He sits up and looks straight at me, right down into my being.

Alien. God, why am I so scared? This is Max. Max … Max. Alien. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

My eyes snap up to his, tears falling because all I can say is “alien.”

Max nods his head and more shivers run through me.

“You came back?” he asks and I nod my head too without looking at him directly.

“Why?” he wants to know. I want to know too. Why am I so afraid? It’s Max. He’s Max and Max doesn’t hurt me. He hasn’t hurt me, has he?

“Are you even real?” I think he wants to touch me. His balled up fists on the ground keep moving towards me but stopping. And good, because I don’t think I could let him touch me right now.

“What’s wrong?” he gets on his knees before me and I fall back, further away from him. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

He sounds pleading. And I just … this is Max. This is Max. Max. I lov… This is Max. It’s just Max.

“Are you scared of me?” he gives me a little more room as he falls back, sitting on his heels. “Do I scare you?”

My eyes don’t move from staring blankly at the ground. “Yes.” Alien. Alien. Alien.

After a long silence, “why? Why are you scared of me now when you weren’t yesterday? Or the day before that? Or the day before that?”

“Because …” because then you were just Max … just Max. Now … it’s just … you’re …

“Because I’m alien?” he’s making the word sound derogatory, like it’s a slap in the face. “I’m still the same as I was yesterday. Since you first met me. I’m still me.”

“But …” you’re not. You’re not just Max anymore.

“But what? But I’m suddenly different now and you’re scared of me? Because you found out one thing?”

More tears. He makes it seem like it’s not a big deal, but it is. It’s a huge deal because “one thing can mean the world.”

“But it’s not like I’m a rapist. Or a serial killer. It’s like me finding out that you’re not really a brunette. It’s insignificant.”

How can he compare the two? Hair color and alien status are nothing alike. “It is very significant.”

Quietness while I listen to his heavy breathing, my eyes still staring at the ground. “Then why are you here? Why did you come back if you’re scared because I’m alien?” he’s throwing the word back into my face. Why did I come back?

I look to the side and see my red backpack lying carelessly on the ground yards away. Jump up and make a mad dash for it.

But he pounces right on me, grabbing my arm, “Liz!”

My skin feels like it’s burning where his fingers grip. And for the first time, I look into his eyes. “Please?” Please let me go get this. So I can explain. It’ll help me explain. Please?

And he has to let go before I run off, grab the bag and run back.

He has a confused look on his face as I drop to the ground on my knees and rummage through my backpack, pulling my mother’s journal out and flipping through the pages like a madman until I find a page I’m looking for. Look up at him and he slowly lowers himself down to the desert floor as well.

I flip the book over so the pages face him. “Do you know what this is?”

He looks at me and then down at the pages. “Know what, what is?” he asks, taking the journal from me.

“The writings.” I sit back and try to breathe.

“Yeah,” he says it like it’s obvious, handing the journal back to me. “It’s Antarian.”

“It’s what?” I don’t think I hear him right.

Alien,” he spits the word at me.

And I bite back the hurt. “That’s why I came back,” my hands running over the symbols on the page before closing the book. “This is my mom’s journal.”

I look up at him and he still has this hard, uncaring look on his face.

“You don’t look surprised,” I breathe out. That’s an understatement. He looks annoyed.

“I’m not,” he just shakes his head.

He knew. It doesn’t shock him like it did me because he knew. But, “how?”

“I can feel it … right here,” he brings his closed fist up to his chest and then opens it. And we both stare down at the necklace in his palm. The one that stands for so much to him. And stood so much to me. The one that I left when I left him.

He looks up at me. I look at him. And his eyes are reaching out to me, instead of pushing me away.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can say, all I can offer him.

“It’s okay,” and he’s cold again. “You didn’t want it. After all, it’s alien.”

Shake my head slowly, near tears again. Screw this! Alien. Alien. Alien. I’m not in love with an alien. I’m in love with Max. At least … I thought I was.

Stare up at this being before me. It’s a short moment before he looks right back at me. And you can feel a struggle of power. His eyes bear into mine like stones, angry upset stones.

And how can I apologize to him? How can I tell him I’m sorry when I can’t accept him for who he is? When I fear him? When he’s still Max …

“Max?” my voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, pleading. And I see a second of softness. A flicker of affection.

This is Max. The person who is willing to comfort me when I’m sad, sit with me when I’m upset, be with me though I push him away, love me through it all …

My hand reaches up, slowly, shaking, touching his cheek. I can feel his jagged breath warming my wrist. My fingers glide down his jaw, feeling the start of a rough beard against my palm.

Stare up at him and his eyes close and his hand covers mine. Before he lets go and grabs me to him. I can feel his walls coming down. “Please don’t leave me.”

I stiffen and take deep breaths before I finally surrender, leaning in to him with a sense of deja vu. “I’m here, Max,” inhale a shaky breath, breathing him in and letting myself go. “I’m here.”



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 8:58 pm, edited 5 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Seven:
-------------------------------------------------



There are glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. And a new string of alien head lights hung up across the top of the window outside. Other than that, it’s the same as I left it. The sheets are still a pastel pink. And the lamp, close to the same shade of color as well. I wonder if Alex ever moved back into this room after I left.

If he had … again, things like these would make me question Alex’s sexuality.

I slept the evening away. Max drove me to the Crashdown. He helped me climb the ladder and into my former room through the open window. He watched me climb into bed. And he left me here before I fell asleep.

Alex was there. I saw him once we reached the balcony, but I couldn’t look at him. I mean, I saw him, but I just couldn’t look at him. He left with Max.

Isn’t it funny how an instant changes everything? How Alex used to be the sunshine of my rainy day, the hearts on my grumpy bear. And now …

If I could just pretend that everything was back to how it was yesterday, I would. But there are just some things that you just cannot deny. And non-human status is one of them.

There’s a soft knock on the door. I stay lying on the bed where I am, where I’ve been for hours now, watching the lights from outside slowly shift while the earth turned leisurely on its axis.

A quiet murmur of “Liz?” before the door slowly creeps open.

In comes the shadowy figure of a six foot tall alien.

“Are you awake?” another hushed whisper.

Nod my head and he starts walking slowly towards the bed.

“How did you sleep?” He stops about three feet away from me.

I sit up in the bed, cross my legs under me and tug the blanket around my lap. “Not so well.”

“You seemed really tired.” He just stays standing there, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He won’t sit unless I offer and I won’t offer until I’m ready.

Small smile. “Yeah, I had a long day.” I think I see him smile back. The room is still dark. The glow in the dark stars and the moon and the streetlights shining in from the window are the only light. But I like it this way.

“You still seem really tired,” he lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s a lot for you to take in. I just want you to know that … you’re not alone. Okay?”

I nod my head. “Thank you, Alex.”

“Max is in the living room. Do you want me to send him in?” he asks, taking a step away from me and gesturing towards the door.

Max is in the living room. Do I want him sent in? I nod my head.

“Okay.” He stops at the door. “Oh, and Liz? Feel free to stay if you’d like. My parents are still away on business so … you don’t have to worry about them.”

I nod my head again and he leaves, closing the door behind him.

And I take a deep breath. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Another soft knock and in waltzes his highness himself.

My heart constricts a little and I have to sway a small smile from my lips. He comes right in towards the bed, only stopping a little farther away than Alex did. “Alex said you wanted to see me?”

That makes me sound a bit needy, doesn’t it? That I asked for Max.

“Is something wrong?” Max takes a step closer.

No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just at a very confused place in my life right now. I don’t know where I’m coming from and I don’t know where I’m going to.

He lets out a deep breath and his eyes fall a bit. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Something about Max still comforts me. Something about him just makes me feel … a little more … sane.

A small smile is on his face. “How are you feeling?”

An “eh” sound comes out of me and I just shrug my shoulders.

“Are you still,” he pauses as though he’s searching for the right word, “freaked about the whole … alien … thing?”

And I … “honestly? Yes.” Yes, I am.

“I understand,” he says softly, nodding his head. “Do I still scare you then?”

My eyes drift back up to look at him, the streetlight playing on his features, the soft light illuminating one side of his face, the captured moon gleaming in his eyes.

And I shake my head, “no.”

He smiles. “I’m glad.”

I smile too. “So am I.” Deep breath and pull the blanket up around my waist before I motion for him to “come sit.”

He walks over slowly and sits at the foot of the bed. If he reached his hand out, he could grab my hand. If I reached my hand out, I could touch his knee. I think we’re making progress.

“Max,” I call out his name and wait for him to turn towards me, “there are a lot of questions running through my head right now.”

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“I’m kind of clueless about what all is going on right now. What all you … everyone’s been keeping from me.” Not just Alex or Max, but everyone. Mom, Dad … the Whitman’s.

And he just keeps nodding his head.

And I want answers, “but I’m really, really tired right now.”

“Are you spending the night here?”

Yes. At least, “I think I am. I don’t know where else I would go.” Where do I belong anymore?

“Okay,” he stands up from the bed. “I’ll leave.”

He takes two steps before I call him back. “Max?”

“Yeah?” he spins back around, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

“Could you stay?” Because I need you to keep me safe?

“Yeah,” he nods his head and walks slowly back over towards the bed.



--------------



When I woke up, he wasn’t on the floor like he was when I fell asleep. The extra pillow and blanket he got from Alex last night are still on the ground.

Look up at the clock on the nightstand and it says in red lights: 9:49am. Looks like I missed school.

I get up and make my bed. Bend down and pick up Max’s blanket, folding it and placing it, along with his pillow, on the bed as well before heading towards the door. Open and close the door behind me. Go into the living room and I can see Alex and Max sitting and eating breakfast at the kitchen table.

Walk into the kitchen and Max and Alex seem in their own worlds, Alex busy with a bowl of cereal and Max reading a newspaper. Lean up against the counter in the kitchen. “Morning.”

“Liz,” Alex gets up and points over at a chair, “Come have a seat. Have some breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” I go slowly and take the seat.

“Yup,” he comes back over and puts an empty bowl in front of me. “A big helping of fruit loops.”

“Or if you want,” Max speaks up with a small smile, “Alex can make you some pancakes or something.”

“No, thank you,” I stand up and walk over to the fridge. “I’ll just get some orange juice.” Grab the orange juice and a glass and sit back down in time to watch Alex pour some cayenne pepper into his cereal.

Blink and stare … “you’re eating pepper and fruit loops?”

Alex pulls the spoon out of his mouth and Max looks from behind his paper. “Yeah … it’s-um … it’s how I like it.”

“Huh …” strange … in all the time I’ve lived here … “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

He swallows another spoonful and smiles a bit. “I always hid it well before.”

“Hmm …” really, “so … it’s an alien thing?”

He nods, “yeah.”

“Huh.” Well then.

“Liz,” Alex puts down the spoon, “I know you have a lot of questions-”

“You know we’re missing school, right?” I interrupt. I’m postponing the inevitable, I know.

“Yeah,” Max finally folds away his paper and puts it in the empty seat beside him. “Well, Alex and I are going to be spending the next few days helping you … adjust.”

Blink a few times. “You think I’m going to be able to adjust in just a few days?” Do people do that? Just adjust in just a few days?

“I don’t know, Liz,” Max says with a sigh. “But we have to at least try.”

Look at Max, then Alex, then Max again. “Okay,” nod my head. “Are we having like a Q&A kind of thing?” God knows there are too many things I don’t understand.

And they both stare and wait for me. I look at Alex and he’s looking right back at me. I look at Max and he’s staring right back. It’s a little unnerving. Shake my head and let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just … I just feel a little overwhelmed.”

“I know,” Max reaches out and pats my hand. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“No,” I pull my hand back. “You haven’t given me anything to take in. It’s that …” look back up at Max and then to Alex. “I feel like I’m being ganged up on. You know?”

Max and Alex look at each other before Max stands up. “I’ll leave then. Alex here can explain a lot of things better than I can.”

I nod and he pushes his chair back to leave but pauses for a second. “Liz … just take your time and let it all sink in slowly. It’ll be better that way.”

I smile. “Thank you, Max.”

He nods, smiles back, and walks out of the kitchen.

And I’m left alone. Well, alone with Alex. “So …” he starts up, “what would you like to know?”

Deciding to start out easy and blunt, “This is an alien town?”

He nods his head easily enough, “yup.”

“And um …” deep breath, “you are … an … alien?”

“Yes,” he folds his arms on the kitchen table, looking at me intently.

And for the question I really want to know. Emphatic pause. “Am I an alien?”

“What?” the question seems to stumble him.

Another pause before I explain my logic, “if my mom is ‘from Roswell,’ does that make me an alien too?”

“I-um …” he licks his lips a few times. He’s trying to think up an answer. He knows something but he’s trying to think up something else that’s easier on the ears.

Clear my throat and sound out each syllable for him. “Am.. I.. an.. a-li-en?”

“My studies are showing that, yes you have cells that are-”

Wait … “studies?”

A deep sigh from him. “Don’t get upset?”

Something tells me I’m going to be anyway but just “tell me.”

“I’m,” he pauses and starts back up again, “doing a study about you-”

“What?” Study? “About me?” And I feel the anger boiling.

“Yeah,” he nods, “it’s just something-”

“I’m not a lab rat, you know.” A study? What does that mean?

“I knew you’d be upset,” he throws his hands up.

And “well, don’t you think I have every right to be-”

“Liz-”

“I mean, what could you possibly-”

“Liz!”

“What?!” deep breathing and I stare at him, mouth open, ready to start retaliating.

He smiles. “I’m glad you’re back.”

A bit of warmth pops up in my cheeks and a few more deep breaths go through me. The anger simmers down. And I look at him again with all his goofy charm. This is Alex. But “what exactly makes you alien?”

He laughs a little at my question. “I think the fact that our people didn’t originate from this planet, makes us alien.”

Swirl my cup of orange juice around a bit. “So where are you from?”

“Our home planet is in a neighboring galaxy,” he says while standing up and putting our dishes in the sink before sitting down again.

He talks about all of this so nonchalantly, as though it were normal to be uttering such words. I mean, really … “home planet?”

“Antar,” you can feel a bit of patriotic pride coming from the word as he says it.

“Antar?” I smile. “Antarian Avenue … not a coincidence, is it?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “it’s where our important people of this world are located. Top officials, etcetera”

Important people? I live there. Max lives there. Pam lived there. But “you don’t live there.”

“I’m not important,” he pouts a bit.

But I smile, shaking my head because “yes, you are.” Alex plays some bigger role in all of this. You can see it in the way he talks to Max, in how smart he is, in the way some other people talk about him. “But there’s a reason you live where you live.”

And I wait for his answer while he smiles and shrugs. “My parents run a restaurant.”

“Yeah, but you’re a super-mega-genius. And you’re something to Max. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m his advisor,” he nods, confessing.

“Advisor?” It fits. It clicks. It makes sense. Advisor. “Then why don’t you live on Antarian Avenue?”

He shrugs again, leaning back in his chair. “My parents love running this restaurant.”

And don’t I know it, how Mr. and Mrs. Whitman go crazy for the alien stuff. Ironic, isn’t it? I smile.

Alex is Max’s advisor. And it makes sense. But I ask the question anyway. “Why does Max need an advisor?”

“I thought you’d know that one,” he looks at me quizzically.

Nod my head. “I think I do. But just making sure.”

“Well, your boyfriend is heir to an entire realm. He’s the most important person here on earth … at least, he was.”

Nod my head again. It’s what I thought. Wait … my head shoots up … boyfriend? “Max isn’t …” shake my head and let it slide. Something else I don’t know the answer to.

Max was king to be and Pam was … “what is Pam’s role?”

“She was to be his queen,” he says it a little hush hush.

Was … so then, “what happened?”

“She wasn’t the first choice,” he says it down to the tabletop.

“Who was the first choice?” Who else is there?

He stares at me for a while, as though thinking of the right thing to say. “That’s where it gets complicated.”

That’s a laugh. “I thought things were already complicated as they were.”

He smiles with me. “Let’s stick with the simpler things.”

Okay. Back to the beginning. “So everyone here in Roswell is an alien?”

“Yeah,” he nods his head again.

“So what does everyone do?”

Small pause before, “what do you mean?”

Well, when I used to do … bad things to myself, “Max used to …” clear my throat, catching myself, “I fell and got these scratches and Max made them go away.”

“That, he can do.”

I figured. “What else can he do?”

He gives me this awkward kind of look. “How about I let Max tell you about that?”

“Okay. What can you do?”

He looks at me with his eyes a little squinted. “What do you know?”

“You’re very secretive, you know that?”

“I kind of have to be, in my line of work.” He talks like he’s a CIA agent. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t Alex at all.

Sadness suddenly comes over me. “I thought you were someone else.”

And I get the same emotional vibe from him. “That’s because I acted differently around you.”

“Differently how?”

He looks up and you can see his brain working. “I got to be more … carefree,” and he looks back down, straight at me. “Around you I wasn’t advisor to the future king. Or scientist or researcher. I was just … Alex.” Short pause. “I loved having you around.”

“So …” I smile, trying to lighten the mood, “photographic memory?”

“Yeah, it’s a little something I have.” And apparently he prides himself in it.

“Can I learn it?” Because, you know, it would just be nifty and all.

“The memory thing, it’s tricky. I’ve been working on it since I was a kid. And even now, it still comes and goes on me. But, Max though. Max has it down. So if you wanted to learn, I’d go to him.”

“What happened to Edward Harding?” I don’t want to know. But I need to know. I don’t want to remember. But I need to know. I don’t want to think about him. But I …

Alex stays silent.

And a helpless feeling comes over me again from before. My eyes squeeze shut and I try so hard to push it away. “I couldn’t move, Alex. He had me to where I couldn’t move.” Emotion is climbing up my throats to the back on my eyes. “And he was trying to …”

“Rape you,” he whispers the words that make my tears fall. “But he didn’t get to. Max stopped him. Don’t worry, Liz. He’s been taken care of.”

But that doesn’t erase the memory. And it doesn’t stop it from replaying before me. How could I not move? How could he do that to me? A warm thumb grazes my cheek. My eyes open and I’m looking straight at a worried Alex.

“I think that’s enough for the morning,” he brushes another tear away. “What do you think?”

Nod my head and get up walking out of the kitchen and through the living room, back into my old room to lie down. Aliens and photographic memory and experiments. They’re all getting jumbled in my head.

Open the door and walk in to find Max asleep on my bed.

Smile. He looks completely out of place with all of his masculinity on top of pastel pink sheets. And yet he looks oddly comfortable.

Tip toe over. He took off his jacket and it’s placed at the foot of the bed. I pick it up and drape it over my desk chair before walking softly back over to the side of the bed and stare at him for a while.

So there’s an alien lying in my bed. He looks harmless enough. He breathes like any other person. Air enters and air leaves. Does he have lungs? I don’t know. I’ll have to ask later.

Reach over slowly and gently pinch his nose. I can feel him try to breathe in a little before air starts coming in and out of his mouth instead.

Typical human response. So what makes him alien?

Eyes roam down to his body from his neck to his chest to his hands. He healed me with his hands. Is that the alien part?

Kneel down beside the bed and stare at his open palm beside him. Bring my fingers up and gently run them from his wrist to the tip of his middle finger. The texture feels human. There are some distinct calluses on his hand. Press slightly down on the skin and watch it go from white to pink again. Perfusion. Human-like. But, somehow, these hands healed me. How?

His fingers curl in a bit, closing in on mine. I look up and his eyes are wide open. And he’s staring at me with a small smile on his face. There’s somewhat of a glazed look in his eyes.

“Hi,” he says it softly.

Stand up and I sit on the bed before lying back and sliding my legs down along side him. The mattress shifts a little under my weight and my back is nestled warmly into Max’s chest. I can feel him breathing. He seems a bit tense before an arm slides around my waist and I’m pulled closer towards him, towards his warmth.

A tender breath near my ear, “sweet dreams, Liz.”



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 9:17 pm, edited 6 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Eight:
-------------------------------------------------



“Close your eyes and just try to blank out your mind.”

My eyes are closed, I hold my breath and try to not think, but panic engulfs me and I turn away again. “I just … I don’t think I can do it.”

“It’s just ice cream, Liz.”

“No it’s not just ice cream, Alex. It’s ice cream with Tabasco sauce in it.”

“It’s better this way.” He sticks another spoonful into his mouth, smacking his lips and smiling wide.

“God, Alex, how can you?” Shudder.

There’s a knock on the door. My eyes dart straight to Alex and he stares back at me. My heart pounds faster as he gets up out of his chair. “I guess that’s them.” He walks by me, heading toward the front door.

His hand goes on my shoulder on his way out to comfort me. But every bone in my body is stiff.

Hold my breath while I expect to hear the Whitmans come in with bags in their hands and more alien novelties from yet another convention.

“False alarm, Liz,” comes Alex’s voice from the living room and I finally start to breathe again. “It’s just Max.”

Visible sigh of relief and stand up to face the entrance into the kitchen as Alex walks by heading towards the bedrooms, followed by a very distraught looking Max.

“What’s wrong?” Walk out towards the living room and both Max and Alex stop to look at me.

“I need to discuss something with Alex.” He turns his back to me to start walking off again.

And don’t I just feel so special? Shake my head with a sigh. “More secrets then.”

They stop again and Max comes back towards me. “Something has been … brought to my attention and I need to speak with Alex to see what needs to be done.” He takes two steps away and looks back at me over his shoulder. “Go to your room and lock the door.”

“Just let her come to my room,” Alex chimes in and looks my way. Alex walks off and Max is three steps behind him. Sigh, lower my head and start after them. I wonder if this is what it’s going to be like from now on, my life.

Walk into the wall and lift my head to see that it isn’t a wall at all. It’s Max. He gives me a soft look before he slowly takes my hand in his and I walk beside him on our way to Alex’s room.

“Stay here,” Alex motions to the bed and I sit down obediently while Max and Alex disappear into the closet. I hear echoing steps from inside and I get the feeling that Alex’s closet isn’t just a closet.

Fall back onto his bed. More mysteries and more secrets and more questions to which I have no idea where or when I’m going to get the answers to.

Close my eyes and I can hear the hurried steps coming back down closer to me and I sit up in time to see the closet door slide open and Max’s head pop back in. He looks at me nervously. “Lock the door.”

Sigh and shake my head, getting up to do as he says before sitting back down on the bed. “Are you going to at least tell me what’s going on? Why are you so worried?”

His eyes just shift around and I just sigh again because I know I’m not going to get an answer from him. I don’t think I even expected one. But he walks up to me, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he falls on me. Not-not really falls, more like kisses me senseless before he pulls away.

“I …” and he turns and leaves back into the closet just like that.

Shake my head with another sigh and lie back on Alex’s bed.



--------------



I wake up to clicking noises and open my eyes to glow in the dark stars. Turn my head to the side to find Max sitting on the ground, typing away with a laptop in his lap. Stare at him for a few seconds. He seems very concentrated on what he’s doing. It seems important. So what do I do? I interrupt. “Did you carry me back in here?”

I don’t startle him. He doesn’t even look at me, just keeps on typing. “Yeah. You fell asleep in Alex’s room.”

Sit up, my legs dangling off the side of the bed, not quite touching the ground. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Not long,” he shakes his head, still not looking at me. “A couple hours.”

Pull my legs up and rest my head on my knees. “Are you going to tell me what all the excitement was about?”

“Not now, Liz. I have to finish this.” The tone he’s using with me is like one you’d use to ward off annoying pesky little sibling. Not someone who is … what am I to him?

Obviously, I’m someone who isn’t worth his time. Blink a few times. Lay back, roll over and stare at the other wall. Don’t you just love feeling like you’re on the bottom of someone’s priority list? Especially when he’s so high on mine?

I hear a click and I can hear him standing up, steps towards me before the bed shifts, before there’s a hand on my leg.

I don’t turn. “Did you finish?”

“No,” I can feel him lie down beside me, an arm going around my waist before he pulls me into his chest. “But it can wait.”

Push his hand away and I get off the bed, walking towards the window. “I thought you had to finish.”

“How are you holding up?” I see him sitting up from the reflection in the window.

Spin around and face him, just feeling agitated. “I’m ready to go.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know.” I start pacing. “I’m just … tired of being holed up here. It’s only been a day but …” stop and stare at him, “I hate being shielded away so I can adjust while you and Alex play babysitter. I’m tired of running away.”

He smiles and stands up from the bed. “I guess this is a bad time to ask you this then.”

My hands cross over my chest, my nerves acting up. “Ask what?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go away with me,” his hands go in his pockets like it was no big deal. “Like go on a vacation.”

Vacation? “Or more like hiding me from something? I’m not stupid, Max.” Ignorance is bliss. Sometimes it’s better not to know. But … “I’m tired of playing dumb.”

“I just need to keep you safe.” He tries to grab me, but I move away from him.

“Safe from what, Max?” And then it hits me and I pale. “Ed … Edward Harding?”

“No. Shh …” arms go around me and a hand smooths my hair back while I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning into his chest. “Liz. It’s okay. You never have to worry about him ever again.”

Lift my head up and look into his eyes. “I don’t?”

“No,” he shakes his head at me and rubs my back, soothing me some more. “He’s … in custody, awaiting trial.”

My eyes narrow. “What kind of trial? Alien … trial?”

He nods. “You have a lot to learn about our ways.”

I shake my head because I really don’t want to get into it right now. “What are you trying to save me from then?” He looks nervous and I try to lighten the mood. “Are there other people who want to impregnate me with their alien baby?” Nervous chuckle.

But he just looks at me dead on.

And I … no. No. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He just shakes his head.

I just … I … “Why me?”

Max sits me down on the bed and pulls up my desk chair in front of me. “You’re special. You have … special blood.”

Blank stare before I shake myself out of it. “I’m still just trying to get it all straight. There’s so much that doesn’t make sense.” How am I supposed to take all of this in? How am I supposed to ever understand it all?

Reach out and grab hold of Max’s hand. “Explain. Please. I’m so confused.”

Max just gives me one of his sympathetic smiles and reaches out to touch my cheek with the hand that I’m not holding on to. “How much did Alex explain to you while I was gone this afternoon?”

I let go of Max’s hand and he lets go of my cheek. “Umm …” I smile and my eyebrows raise a little. “Well, we started to but, then the TV just … happened to turn on and The Sound of Music just happened to be in the player. So we kind of just, watched a movie instead.” Shrug my shoulders and my cheeks redden a little. Why? I don’t know.

“So …” he just smiles that knowing smile of his. “Nothing …”

“No …” shake my head and try to cover for Alex, “we started eating ice cream and then he tried to get me to try his Tabasco ice cream thing.”

Max looks amused. I like him when he looks this way. Better than when he’s worried or stressed out. “Did you try it?”

And just the thought of it makes my tongue cringed. “No.”

He just laughs. “It’s okay. You’ll grow to like it.”

I highly doubt that. But I smile anyways. “Maybe.”

I look back up at Max and he’s starting to lean in, his head tilting a little but I pull back. Tuck my hair nervously behind my ear. “You were explaining.”

“Right.” He straightens up, licking his lips. “Antar is one of five planets. Antar, Vyntra, Bulan, Portar, and Xenith.” He points to imaginary points on my bed as a visual. “The five planets form a V with Antar at the point. Each of the five planets, although they each have their own government, are all under a united rule, which is that of Antar’s.”

“Okay.” Simple enough so far. “And you are …”

“Well,” he straightens back up again, just shrugging as nonchalantly as he can. “I was to take over the throne.”

“But …”And my eyes narrow and my curiosity is peaked because Alex didn’t really explain very well earlier.

“But one of the rulers of one of the other planets, Xenith,” he points to the imaginary point of Xenith on my bed, “rebelled, overthrowing our whole system of government and …”

“And now you’re not going to be king anymore?” I finish for him.

“No,” he sighs, his lips tightening. “I guess not.”

And I wonder … “Are you disappointed?”

He nods his head, “I admit, at first, I was, but I accept it now. Everything seems to happen for a reason.”

I have to stop myself from laughing. “You really think that?”

He looks at me and I think he’s serious. “Yeah. I do.” A sad chuckle comes from him. “You can’t always understand the reason. And it may not always make sense. But acceptance makes it easier,” he shrugs it off.

I don’t look at him when I ask him this next question. I kind of stare at some obscure point on my bed. “So … Pam was your queen to be?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, after a short pause.

And I just sigh, pulling my legs up and hugging them to me, leaning my head on my knees with a shrug. “Wonder why that didn’t work out.”

He says just simply, “she wasn’t the one.”

And I laugh. “The one?” That sounds so cliché. Tell me Neo, “who is the one then?”

He smiles at me wickedly. Like he’s got a secret that he isn’t going to share. And instead, shakes his head and says lightly, “I don’t know.”

“How do you know when you find this one?” Tell me that, Mr. Max.

“Oh,” again with the wicked look. “I’ll know.”

And I just smile more. “Yeah, but how?”

“I’ll feel it. She’s the other half of me. Believe me,” he looks me hard in the eye. “I’ll know.”


I’ll feel it, she said.


I sigh and sit back. “My mom was from Roswell.”

Max nods his head. “I know.”

“Alex thinks that because she was … she was like you,” I try to toss out there as matter-of-factly as I can. “He thinks that … that it makes me … like you too.”

And Max just nods his head again. “I know.”

And I knew that he’d know. I knew that “you think that too? That I’m … an alien?” The word doesn’t seem as rough anymore. It doesn’t carry with it its monstrous synonyms as before.

“You are very … special, Liz.”

“How special, Max?” Special to you? Special like …

He looks me right in the eye, “what I feel for you spans beyond the galaxies. It fills my entire being and …” this goofy smile enters his face, “and I know this is going to sound crazy but … you complete me.”

Shake me head and suppress the bubbles I feel inside back because someone like me just can’t fall for those types of words. Other girls, maybe. But not me. Romance and fairytales. That’s what words like those promise. And romance and fairytales aren’t real. But aliens weren’t real either, were they?

“You’re the girl.” He reaches to grip my hand again and I let him take it. “I know you are. I feel it.” And his other hand goes up to lie across his chest, his heart.

And I just … “What are you talking about?” What does he mean? What girl?

“I know. Alex and I, we figured it out.” He lets go of my hand and says it like I’m the one trying to keep the secret, like I’m the one trying to hide something from him.

But he’s wrong because “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Max.”

He sighs and he looks agitated. Did I make him this way? “Your mom was Anna Philips, right?”

Nod slowly because that she was, my mom, Anna Philips. But I don’t understand how that explains anything.

“Well her real name was Annabelle Ross. She married Edward Harding. And the child they were to produce would have been the future queen, my queen.”

Shake my head. I want to say something. Deny it. Anything. But he doesn’t let me. No. He stands up and starts pacing.

“Problem was,” he just keeps going in a hurry. “Annabelle went missing. And with her,” pauses while he looks straight at me, “she took the other half of my soul.”

And I scoff and I smile because if I didn’t, I don’t think my brain would be able to process this right. “And you think that’s me. That I’m the one?”

He rushes back over, kneeling on the ground, grabbing my hands with his and staring up at me and speaking softly. “I don’t think it, I feel it. I know it.”

Shrug him off, stand up and start pacing. And I just … no. No. No because “you’re mistaken.” Because if I’m registering what all he’s telling me correctly, then “your story is flawed because,” even if Mom was who I’m kind of, sort of, maybe starting to think who everyone else seems to think she was, even then “Edward Harding and Annabelle Ross were supposed to have a baby. And that baby is the one you’re looking for,” Annabelle and Edward’s baby. I’m Hank and Anna’s baby. Stop pacing and look at him dead-on, open and bare while he sits back in the chair. So it’s “not me.”

He just shakes his head and just shrugs at me like I’m just a kid denying the fact that Santa isn’t real. “A part of you knows I’m right.”

That, Mr. Max, “that is where you’re wrong.” Keep shaking my head and back away until I feel the cool window against my back. Things don’t add up to me. They don’t click and they don’t make sense. How can I be this person whose whole life was already mapped out for her when, since for the last few months, I haven’t even been able to sleep well because I don’t know what the next morning’s going throw at me to knock me off my feet some more.

“Liz-”

“No.” I know I’m right and you’re wrong because … “you’re Max. Great and powerful Max. A prince among men. And you think I’m supposed to be this chick who is … the other half of your soul? This queen to planets of people?” Shake my head and just …

“I don’t think it,” he comes to standing in front of me, “I know it.”

I’m sorry. No. “Think about it.” Hold one hand up high, “you’re Max.” And the other hand down low, “I’m Liz. They just don’t add up. You’re looking for someone else and I’m sorry but I’m not her. She’s probably out there. She’s probably out there waiting for you to find her. It’s not me.” You’re Max. And I’m Liz. Scarred, battered, torn Lizzie. With a soul that’s tattered and tainted. I can’t be who he’s looking for. I can’t.

Funny thing is, I left the Parkers to come back here. I turned my back on a normal life in order to be with Max. And with what he’s telling me, with who he’s looking for, I just don’t factor in. I could pretend. I could pretend that I’m the girl and steal her prince charming away from her. But I can’t. I can’t do that to Max. I can’t do that to myself. I can’t do that to her. Because I’m simple, plain, little Lizzie. And from what I know about myself, I just … I don’t deserve him.

“No.” One hand comes up to caress my cheek and another rubs my arm, comforting me. “You deserve so much more, Liz.”

Sad smile because you know that I’m so mixed up in my head right now. My soul is slowly dying and my heart is breaking because I’m just so distraught that “I didn’t even realize I said that out loud.”

“No. You didn’t have to.” He leans in to hold me but my hands come up to keep him away.

My breath catches in my throat, my eyes come out of their sockets and my brain runs away from me because “you can read minds?!”

“No. But I can read this,” his hand reaches out and points softly to the middle of my chest, my heart.

Shake my head and get away from him, pacing a hole into the carpet again. This is just too much. “I went from trying to accept this … not-of-this-world stuff, to now being told that I am something else, someone else.”

And Max just shakes his head. “You’re still Liz. My Liz.”

He tosses my words back in my face and I just roll my eyes and laugh with as much denial as I can. “I was never yours.”

I stop to hit myself because I’m lying. I’m lying to myself and I’m lying to Max because, the truth is, I’ve always been his. Since the first time I saw him in the Crashdown, a part of me leapt out at him and never came back. “I’m sorry. I-”

“No, no.” He doesn’t let me apologize, doesn’t accept my apology. “You’re right. I never had you.”

And I just … grr … why do we do this to ourselves, Max and I? Walk over to the window and unlock it, pulling it open.

“Where are you going?” Turn back to look at him and he has this distraught look on his face.

What? Does he think I’m going to run away again? Didn’t he get that I’m through doing that? “Out to the balcony. I just need some air. To … clear my mind.”

“I’ll come with you.” He practically jumps at me.

Shake my head. “No, I just want to be alone right now. Just for a little bit.”

“You can’t.” Max breathes hard. Max looks like he’s about to have a heart-attack. What is going on with Max? “He’ll take you away from me and I can’t …”

“What?” You can’t what?

“I can’t lose you, Liz.” His head is ducked and he looks defeated and lonely.

Turn back towards the window and slam it back down before spinning back towards him. “What is going on?!”

He walks towards me and pretty much pins me between him and the window. “You’re special.”

Push at him and I throw my hands up, walking towards the bed, wanting to practically rip my hair out. I’m just so … “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“The person who overthrew my father,” Max stays standing over at the window while he says this to me. “He wants you.”

And I … “What?”

His hand scrubs his face and he takes a deep breath before he starts up again. “Your mother was, I don’t want to say royalty, but, she was an elite, I guess.” And then he gets back into teacher mode. “It’s destiny. What separates her, and me, and my entire lineage from others is that we have a special genetic make-up, special blood running through us. People aren’t elected into sovereignty, they’re born into it.”

He looks at me expectantly and I sit down on the bed, nodding my head slowly, as though I grasp what all he’s telling me.

“You were born into it, just like I was.” He gestures towards himself. “That’s why Pam wasn’t right, didn’t feel right.”

And I don’t even want to think the thoughts that come with that last part of what he just said. Didn’t feel right. Did I feel right to him? Is that why she was sent away? Because she didn’t feel right? Shake my head, no. No, that wasn’t why. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Max nods his head, a dull look over his face. “With Khivar’s child. But she’s not royalty.”

But … but … “but … he has Pam. What does he want with me?”

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “She isn’t. She’s there for his …” he lets out a sigh, “entertainment. He wants you. Because he thinks that … having you will make the people accept him more.”

Is he serious? “Are you serious?”

Max starts looking frantic. Max starts sounding frantic. “I know he’s king now and … he has a lot to offer you … but … I really, really do love you. And I know that I’m nothing now, but … I mean, Khivar, he just wants you because … but he can …” he stops and just looks at me for a second, and you can just see the fight in his eyes die away before he turns from me. “Never mind.”

“Max?” I hate this look. I hate this defeated Max. Where’s the cocky son of a gun that we all know and love? Where’s the Max that can piss me off one minute and make me crave him the next?

This Max just shrugs. “I have no argument. I have no right to want you for myself. I mean, Khivar,” he shakes his head, “he can offer you the world, a world, five worlds, six if he plans on taking over earth. Me, I don’t have that kind of power. Not anymore.” He turns to stare out the window.

I walk up to him until I’m two steps away. Does this defeatist tone mean that he’s giving up on me? Is he just handing me over to this guy on a silver platter? And it’s funny because earlier he was so sure of himself, beyond positive that I was this girl, his girl. And now he’s not even looking at me. I laugh. “But I thought I was the other half of your soul?”

He looks at me through the reflection of the glass. One hand held low, “I’m Max.” The other hand held high, “you’re Liz.”

“Max …” shake my head and wait until his turns back around to me with a “yeah?”

One of my arms goes to caress the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there, and the other slips around his neck. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of lying. And I’m tired of doubting. I just want to be Liz. And I want him to be Max, the Max that means all the world to me because “I love you.”

His hands go around my waist. The defeated Max washing away to reveal the smirking lips and twinkling eyes of the Max I know and love.

When he’s my Max and I’m his Liz, screw everyone and everything else. Because I draw warmth and strength from him. And when everyone else is forgotten, he’s all I need. It’s scary.

“I hate to break up the party,” Alex’s voice comes from nowhere, “but something’s come up, Max.”

And I let go of Max, staying faced away from Alex and trying not to blush, but redness crawls up my cheeks anyway.

Max keeps his hold on me, pulling me forward and letting me bury myself into his chest. “What is it?”

“Another meeting with the Council.”

“Let’s go,” he pushes me away and I hate that they’re going and leaving me here … again. I’m like a puppy that they can just abandon whenever they want. Look up at Max and he’s looking down at me, reading my eyes before looking back towards Alex. “Liz will come with us this time.”

Nervousness wracks me. What is the Council like? What is this meeting like? What are they going to think of me? What am I going to do? Should I change?

But Alex dashes all my thoughts. “No, she can’t.”

Max grabs the jacket Alex hands him and he puts it on.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea, Max. People might pop up.” They talk in code. They talk in secrets. I think I’m starting to understand their cryptic messages now. “I think she should stay put.”

“Your parents aren’t back yet,” Max shakes his head. “I’m not leaving her here alone.”

They both look at each other and agree silently to something before turning to me. My eyebrows and one side of my mouth peaks up at them both, wondering what they’re thinking.



--------------



“So …”

“How have you been, Liz Parker?”

I lean forward on the leather sofa to put my drink down before I lean back again to answer. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Good,” he says while sitting across from me in an armchair, both of us forcing small talk.

“How’s umm …” stare at one of the many trophies he has displayed around the living room. “How’s … basketball?”

“Good.”

“Good. So …” clear my throat and just … “Kyle, I’ve been meaning to ask …”

“Yes, Liz Parker?” He picks his drink back up and it gives him something else to focus on.

“Why do you call people by their first and last names?”

He shrugs. “First names are for identification and last names are for respect.”

But … “you could just use last names for identification.” And I mean, after you’ve established identification, must you keep on establishing it?

He just looks at me and shakes his head with a grin, “no, Liz Parker.”

“Okay.” I grin back. I give up. I don’t understand his logic, but I give up.

“So …” he puts his drink back down and looks at me with a sparkle in his eyes, “you want to see something alien, Liz Parker?”

Wait … “huh?”

“Wanna see something alien?” He leans forward in his seat and just stares at me, waiting expectantly.

Wait, does everyone know that I know now? Were they all just hiding it and covering it up conspiratorially before?

“Liz Parker?” And he’s still just staring at me expectantly.

So I just … “do I want to see something alien … sure.”

“Okay. Watch.” He leans over the coffee table, shoving sports magazines aside and pulls a pencil from his pocket, putting it down on the table. I lean forward and wait while he straightens the pencil a few times, until it seemed like it was perpendicular to him before he puts his hand above it and it floats.

My eyes go wide. I look at the floating pencil, to his hand, to him, and back again while he’s just smiling wide and watching my reaction. “Cool, huh, Liz Parker?”

“Y-yeah.” I sneak my hand slowly out and I run it between the pencil and the coffee table, to make sure this isn’t some illusion. And the pencil seems to shift up a little. I slowly run my hand between the floating pencil and his hand and the pencil seems to shift down a little, but still suspended in the air. I sit back and just … “how … how are you doing that?”

He smiles and his other hand grabs the pencil from where it’s suspended in the air. “Well, my dad taught me. The trick is not to concentrate on getting the object to you, but to concentrate on the space in between the object and you. Focus on moving the air in between and pushing it under the object. It’s easier that way. The object’s heavier and harder to handle than the air around it.” He explains it all in one big paragraph, like I’d understand it while he makes the pencil float again. “See?”

“Yeah.” I see it alright. I see a floating pencil. “Can … can I try?”

He laughs. “Sure, but you’re not going to be able to do it, Liz Parker.”

He hands me the pencil and I put it down on the coffee table in front of me, perpendicular to how I’m sitting. My hand goes over it and we both wait with abated breaths. My fingers curl and my hand moves up and down a little as I try to force the pencil up into my hand without actually picking it up. Am I not using the force right, Master Obiwan? “Is something supposed to come out of my hand?” I look up at Kyle for some guidance.

“No, Liz Parker,” he shakes his head and laughs at me. “It’s using your hands to move the air. Your hand doesn’t really move because the particles are so small, it doesn’t need to. Just imagine pushing without actually doing that motion.”

So I do as he says, focusing on the air and not the pencil. Hand relaxed and flat about half a foot above the pencil and the coffee table and focus on the space separating my hand from the object. Tiny particles, atoms, parts of atoms. And focus on pushing them aside, like cutting through something physically solid. Close my eyes and take a deep breath and try to concentrate some more before I hear a gasp come from Kyle and I open my eyes to stare at him.

“How … how did you do that?” He’s staring at the coffee table and I look down to find, not a levitated pencil, but that the pencil on the coffee table wasn’t perpendicular to me anymore. It’s parallel.

“Did you move the table?” he asks, on the edge of his seat.

And I shake my head slowly, “no.”

“Do …” he sits back in his seat now, thinking. “Do all humans have special talents too?”

“No,” I say slowly while his mind starts to piece together and come to terms with what I, myself, am still trying to come to terms with. But this little feat makes me believe it a little more.

“Then … you’re Antarian?” he kind of breaths out.

And I just … “I-”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” He jumps up from his seat and starts pacing. “Wait until my dad hears about this.”

“Wait.” Hold the phone. This means that “you knew that I knew that you … aren’t from around here. But you didn’t know that I am … also … not from-

“No,” he says it matter-of-factly, shaking his head, “I didn’t know.”

And I’m wondering, “is it a big deal?”

“Yeah,” he stops his pacing to stare at me like I’m slow. “It’s a huge deal. I just don’t get how … I mean, if you’re Antarian, why did they tell us you were human? Where did you come from? Were you sent here or were you born here?” The questions pour out of him and quite frankly, I don’t even know how to answer them.

“Were you sent here, Kyle?”

He shakes his head and sits back down in the armchair, looking wigged out of his mind. “I was born here.”

”So you’ve never been to … Antar?” The word tasted funny, coming from my lips.

“I have,” he tosses the words out with a nod. “I go back for the summer every other year.”

“Well, my mom was from here.” Right? Mom was from Roswell? “I don’t know if she was born here or not.”

“What’s her name?” He leans forward in his seat and seems to have calmed down. “I know pretty much everyone.”

Anna Phillips? Annabelle Harding? “Annabelle Ross?”

And a nervous twitch goes back through his body. “Your mom was the Annabelle Ross? Oh my god.” He jumps out of his seat and it seems like he’s hyperventilating. “OH MY GOD!” And he turns back towards me with his mouth wide open, pointing his shaky finger at me like I’m some kind of … alien. “That makes you … queen.”

“No.” I stop him because, like everyone else, he’s getting the completely wrong idea. “You’re wrong there. I’m-”

His hands go on his hips and he’s very adamant about this. “No. I’m not.”

And I just … I … I throw my hands up. “How do you know all this? How does everyone know all this?”

And he smiles with a short laugh. “It’s practically written in the history books.” And then he gets into his thought-filled moment. “You’ve finally returned and you were right under our noses the whole time.”

And I just have to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all because “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your mom … Annabelle Ross … Annabelle Harding was supposed to give birth to Prince Maxwell’s bride.” And he sounds like a repeat of Max. “It was written in the stars. But Annabelle went missing. I mean, look I think I still have a …” he gets up and goes and opens up a cabinet on the other side of the living room and pulls out a binder, puts it back and pulls out another one, walking back towards me with it while flipping through its pages.

He sits down beside me on the sofa and puts the binder in my lap, open to a clip-out of a newspaper article. “Right here. See?” He points to it and my eyes read over the big, bold heading and the tiny words of information under it.

I flip the page and try to find the picture that goes with this article, but it’s not there. “Kyle, do you have the photo to this clipping?”

“There’s a photo to it?” He’s looking with me. “I wouldn’t know. These are some of my mom’s. She likes to collect these things.”

“That’s your mom,” he points to the big bold letters that read: Annabelle Ross. “My dad told me all the stories. Your mom went missing and everyone was freaking out, not knowing what to do. And then Max was born and it was just a mess. Without your mom to give birth to you, there was no bride for Max. And they tried to pull some princess from one of the other planets but … Max wouldn’t accept her and she was sent back. And that’s when they made Pam.”

Who knew Kyle would be packed full of so much uncensored knowledge. Wait … “Pam was made?”

“Yeah,” he nods his head.

“Like a robot?”

“No,” he laughs at me, pulls the binder away from me, and puts it down on the coffee table. “Nothing like that. She’s like … how do they do it here … a test tube baby, kind of. Only, more complex than that, I think. There’s more engineering involved. Or something like that.” Kyle sounds about as confused about it as I am.

“And she was supposed to be me? I mean, not me,” but her. What am I talking about? Not me, but her, the girl, the one, “Max’s bride?”

“Yeah. That was when I first met Max, actually,” he says while looking up and thinking, reminiscing. “And along came Pam. At first, he rejected her. Worse than he did that princess, they say,” he laughs at that while I try to take it all in. “But after a while, it seemed like he just … accepted it,” Kyle shrugs with tight lips.

Wow. Just … wow. “This is a lot of information,” I nod towards Kyle and he nods back. And “you realize that you haven’t called me Liz Parker for like ten whole minutes?”

He looks at me and blinks a few times while taking in my big smile, shaking his head with a sigh, “you’re a clever one, aren’t you, Liz Parker?”



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Sun Aug 26, 2007 10:26 pm, edited 4 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty Nine:
-------------------------------------------------



“Thanks for watching out for her Kyle,” Alex says to Kyle while we’re walking out the front door of the Valenti house.

“No problem,” Kyle nods, standing slightly inside and slightly out, “whatever you need.”

I wave at Kyle and he waves back before I start down the driveway. Kyle’s a nice guy when you get down to it.

“Did you have a fun time, Liz?” He talks to me like I’m five and getting picked up from my babysitter. We’re going to ignore the fact that that is exactly where he just picked me up from.

“Yes, I did.” Surprisingly. “I actually learned a lot.” Who’d have thunk that Kyle ‘the Mighty Comet’ Valenti would know so much?

“Yeah? Like what?” Alex puts the key in the ignition while I close my door and put my seatbelt on.

He starts the engine and starts backing out of the driveway.

“Well,” for starters, “I learned how to levitate a pencil.”

The car jolts to a stop. While I calm myself down from the possible whiplash, I turn to see Alex staring back at me, his hand still around the emergency break.

“Really?”

Blink a few times. “Yeah. Kyle taught me. Why?”

“Wow … that’s just …” he straightens back up in his seat and works on backing out of the driveway again. “Wow.” And I just sit and wonder what just happened while he keeps on. “That’s pretty rare. Not many people here can do that.”

“Well, Kyle and his dad can,” apparently.

“Yeah,” Alex nods while his eyes stay on the road. “Kyle’s dad is a member of the Council. And Kyle will end up taking his dad’s place.”

And it makes me wonder … “What is the Council?”

“They pretty much help rule. Every planet has Council members that help make the decisions. They’re pretty powerful.” He says it like it’s a neat fact. “So what else did you learn?”

Well, Alex, I learned that my mom wasn’t who I thought she was. And that I’m not who I thought I was either. But then, when did I ever know anything about Mom? But that doesn’t change that she was my mom, does it? So does it change me from being me? It seems I’ve asked myself that question a lot. When am I going to be able to answer it?

Come out of my head in time to see Alex grabbing my suitcase from the backseat, having parked the car and gotten out of it already. Look out the front window to see that we haven’t driven to the Crashdown. We haven’t driven there at all.

Open the door, grab my backpack, and follow Alex up the walkway. “Alex, why are we here?”

“Max’s orders.” He shrugs and we walk up to the front door.

“I’m not staying with you?”

“My parents are home,” he puts my suitcase down next to him while we stand at the front of Max’s house. “And I didn’t think you’d want them asking you all these questions. You know how they are.” They’re just like Alex, they just don’t know when to stop.

“Yeah,” nodding my head, “I know.”

So … “Kyle thinks I am Max’s lost bride.” And remembering that I once tried to get Alex to breach the subject as well, “you think so too, don’t you?”

He rings the doorbell and just shrugs his shoulders at me, giving me a sympathetic-like smile. “It makes sense. Max has never been so … infatuated with someone before.”

“So what?” Infatuation isn’t exactly earth-shattering. Infatuation means he’ll move on to someone else. Infatuation doesn’t make me special. And my head starts off on its rampant self-deprecating thoughts. Why couldn’t he have used another word instead of infatuated?

“You don’t understand how significant that is.” He startles me because I forgot that he was here. I tend to do that when my mind gets away from me. “Don’t you feel this strong connection to Max? I mean like you never felt for anyone like you felt for him?”

He makes it sound like what I feel for the guy is easily describable. But what I feel for Max can’t exactly be put into words. It’s … I don’t know. Is that how I feel for him? I… love him? I’m fond of him. I … care about him. The words just don’t fit.


|| What I feel for you spans beyond the galaxies. ||


That’s how Max described it, right? Cheesy pick-up lines that just make the feeling that I feel, feel less than what I feel. Does that make sense?

The door opens to a well composed Larek who grabs my backpack from me and heads inside the house. We enter and I follow Larek while Alex walks off somewhere.

“We’ve prepared a room for you down the hall from Maxwell’s.”

We go up the stairs and down a hall before he opens the door into a bedroom. I step inside and look around. It wasn’t as grand as my last room, but it’s still nice.

Larek puts my suitcase on the bed and unzips it. Seeing as how I feel weird about an old guy going through my clothes and personal affects, I should stop him. “That’s alright, Larek. I can do that.”

He nods at me and takes a step back from the bed and just stands there. And stands. Like he’s waiting for something.

My eyes shift back and forth. “You really, you don’t have to wait on me.”

“It’s alright.” He grins at me. “I quite enjoy it.”

“Why is that?” I push the suitcase aside and sit down on the bed to talk to Larek. I find solace in the fact that, if I’m going to have to stay in yet another house, I can at least have a friend in him like I did in Juanita. After all, they seem like the same breed, as though they know a hell of a lot more than they let on.

“Well, I have a daughter who would be about your age now.” He still stands straight with his feet together.

“Really?” I just never pictured Larek having any children. I mean, Alfred kind of cared for Bruce Wayne like he was his own kid. I just figured Max’s and Larek’s situation was the same. Well then, “what’s her name?”

“Vilandra.” There’s so much emotion behind it. I wonder if I ever meant so much to my daddy.

Sigh before I smile up at Larek again. “Vilandra. That’s a pretty name. I don’t think I know a Vilandra.” Rack my brain and I’m pretty sure that I don’t.

“You wouldn’t,” he says it matter-of-factly. “She died when she was a child.”

Oh. “Oh. I … I’m sorry.” What else could I say? I just …

“Don’t worry about it, poppet.” He winks at me and starts out of the room.

“Larek?”

“Yes, Miss Harding?” He does a little spin and faces me again.

“Call me Liz.” I smile at him. He’s nice.

“As you wish, Miss Liz.”

And I smile again. But what I really want to know is “do you know what happened to Juanita?”

“Ah. She was quite fond of you, she was. She left back home. She said she’s had enough of Earth. I don’t blame her after the death of Mr. Harding.”

Wait … wait … what? “E … E-Edward Harding … died?”

“Yes. Weren’t you informed?” he says this all slowly.

And I just … I … “I … No. I …. Max told me that Edward was ‘awaiting trial’.”

“No. Mr. Harding has, in every sense, passed away. Why would Maxwell tell you that?

That’s a very good question, Larek. “Where is Max?”

“He and Mr. Whitman are in Master Evans’s study.”

“Thank you, Larek.” Hop off the bed and walk past Larek, out the room.

“Down the stairs, make two rights and it’s the second door on the right.” I hear him call after me and I’m already halfway there.

Open the door and walk right in. “Why didn’t you tell me that Edward Harding passed away?”

Impulsive me talks before I think and before I even notice that Maxwell and Alex aren’t alone.

Max barely acknowledges me with a glance from behind his big desk before he turns his attention back towards Brad, handing him an envelope. “Tell your father I’ll consider it, but as it stands, I’m set in my answer.” And the way he’s talking now seems different from his usual demeanor. His being now holds more authority than I’ve ever noticed it to before. What’s going on?

“Yes, sir.” And Brad nods toward Max. Turns and nods towards Alex. And turns again, heading out the room, waving and winking at me on his way out.

“I think we’re done for today, Alex.” Max sits back down in his seat, which makes it look like he’s pretty much telling Alex to go away.

“I think so too,” Alex nods and starts walking towards my direction, stopping briefly in front of me. “Rest well, Liz.”

“Come in,” he says and I’m vaguely aware that I’m still holding onto the doorknob before I walk into the study, shutting the door behind me. Go in to the middle of the room with Max just watching me. I feel out of place. I feel out of my league. This ‘office Max’ makes me feel intimidated and lowly.

I watch him come out from behind his desk and lean on one of the chairs in front of me while I stand before him. “What’s wrong, Liz?”

Why was I here again?

He sighs. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you.”

Oh, that. But … “you didn’t want to upset me?”

“You’re going through a lot. I didn’t want to add more to your burden.”

“By lying to me?” You’re trying to make things easier for me by lying to me? How does he figure?

He stands up straight. I guess he can tell that he isn’t going to explain this away that easily. “You were already dealing with a lot as it was. I didn’t think it would make too much of a difference to you.”

Much of a difference? It’s not like it’s someone I didn’t know that passed away. It wasn’t like he was a hamster or a guinea pig. “He did have a part in my life. Not a good part, I’ll admit. But still.”

“I know.” One of his hands comes out and brushes my cheek and I turn away. This isn’t exactly the right place and time for romantic caresses, Max.

Shake my head and take a breath, staring down at the ground. “I won’t say that I’m happy he’s dead.”

“But you won’t say that you’re not relieved either.” I hear his statement but my mind refuses to acknowledge the validity of it.

“I just … I don’t know how I feel about it.” And really, I just don’t want to think about it anymore. “Don’t lie to me.” Ignorance is bliss but Max didn’t just omit this bit of fact. None of what he did tell me held any truth. Makes me question what else he hasn’t been truthful about for my benefit. Maybe his feelings really don’t span a galaxy.

“I’m sorry.” Arms pull me into him and his lips put a soft kiss on my forehead.

Sigh and lean into Max. He’s all I have left right now. “So what was Brad doing here?”

One of his hands pushes at my waist and I stand back from him while he turns the chair and sits down in it.

Arms cross over my chest. Do I stand here or do I take the seat next to him?

His arm reaches out and he pulls me into his lap, leaning against his chest, my head on his shoulder. Max smells nice. Masculine. Soothing. This feels nice. This is nice. I like this. And the best part about it, I’m letting myself like it.

Max feels like he’s relaxing too. He isn’t being ‘office Max’. I don’t feel so out of place. “His father had a message for me. A … suggestion.”

“His dad is a member of the Council, right?” Brad’s dad.

“Yup. Council.”

My fingers play along his jaw-line. I feel stubble. It’s rough. It seems that now is the time for romantic caresses. I’m touching him. Lovingly. Does that make us a couple?

I snuggle up closer to him, leaning closer to his ear. “So what is the Council, exactly?” My voice sounds deeper. More breathy. What am I doing? Am I trying to seduce Max? Is that what I’m doing?

“They are a group of wise old people who tell me what I should be doing.” He has a little of a stressed out look on his face. I obviously wasn’t seducing Max. Or, at least, he hadn’t noticed. I’m terrible.

Sigh. Surrender. And just enjoy being near him.

“At least,” he rolls his eyes, “they tell me what they think I should be doing.”

Narrow my eyes. “You need them even though you … aren’t in power?”

Max shrugs. “There will always be a Council. Just as there will always be royals.”

“But …” I mean … “Khivar took over?”

“No. Khivar thinks he took over.”

Sit up and there’s this weird look on Max’s face. “What?”

And the look is gone. “Nothing.” He’s smiling now and changing the subject, “hungry?”

Just nod my head and follow him out to the kitchen. He sits me down at a stool at the counter and goes through the fridge.

“What do you mean, ‘he thinks he took over’? I thought you said he did. Everyone said he did.”

Max closes the fridge door. “For now, but … who is to say what the future will bring.” He sets two Tupperware containers in front of me with a salt shaker and a bottle of lemon juice before he goes into a drawer for two forks, hands me one and sits down on the stool next to me.

“Are you going to try to take your power back? Like … fight him?” I ask the question and cringe while I watch him take the lid off and add a lot of salt and lemon juice to his cold macaroni and cheese. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this food thing.

“No,” he sticks a forkful in his mouth and I can’t watch him do it. “Antarians are a peace-loving people. We prepare for the worst, but, the mind set of my people aren’t as … cynical as those found here on Earth.”

“Then what are you going to do now?” I take the lid off of the container in front of me and eat some of my regular cold macaroni and cheese.

“What needs to be done, I guess.” He keeps eating but I put my fork down. My mac-n-cheese tastes bland. It tastes like mac-n-cheese should, but it’s just … bland. My deduction, aliens don’t know how to make good mac-n-cheese.

“What that is, exactly,” he laughs, “I’m not quite sure.”

“If you don’t have the burden of having to be ruler of planets of people, do you get to be normal? Well, as normal as you can get?” That’s the upside, isn’t it? You don’t have to deal with the responsibility that power entails?

“My life will never be that simple.” He’s staring down at the countertop. There’s too much distress in his eyes. Too many thoughts in his head. “Right now, I’m torn.”

“Torn?”

“Between my heart and my mind.” There’s a sad smile on his lips while he’s staring at me, in me.

“Well,” how I see it, or at least, how I’ve been seeing it lately, “if your mind is anything like mine, it talks way too much. Go with your heart, Max.”

“That’s just what I want to do.” His hand reaches out and fingers tuck my hair behind my ear. I think we’re having another romantic caressing moment.

“Master Evans, Mr. Valenti is on the line and wishes to speak with you.”

“I’ll take it in the study, Larek. Thank you.” He’s looking past me to talk to his butler. I guess the caressing moment will have to wait. Am I disappointed?

“As you wish, sir.” And Larek disappears again.

“It’s late.” Max is standing from his stool. “Why don’t you go on to bed after you finish eating?”

Shake my head. “I’m not hungry. My mac-n-cheese tastes bland.”

He gives me a look and pushes his container in front of me. “Try mine.” And he walks out of the kitchen.

Give the gooey contents of the container a look before I stand from my stool and head up the stairs. I’ll leave the food experimenting for some other day. The thought of it makes me cringe. And the possibility that I might like it is just something I’m not ready for.



--------------



It was two hours of sitting in my pajamas, sitting on the bed before I finally hear Max’s footsteps coming down the hall.

“It’s late, Liz. What are you still doing up?”

I can hear him walking into the room but I keep my eyes staring out the window. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“I understand.”

My gaze turns towards him. Do you, Mr. Max? “Really?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But I’ll accept it.”

I shake my head too. “I don’t understand why I feel like I shouldn’t stay here either. But I think it has something to do with that,” point my finger out the window at the house a little ways down across the street. A house that looked grand to me before, but now it just seems scary.

Max walks over and closes the curtains. “How about now?”

“Better.” He walks over and sits on the bed with me. “But I still feel … ill-at-ease. Is that the right term?”

“Sure, why not?”

Stare at him and his chest looks inviting. I want to lean on him. I want to be near him. I want to be held and comforted and warm. But I don’t know if I get to take such liberties with him. I mean I couldn’t just launch myself into his lap … could I?

No. Sigh. That would be too desperate like. But then, haven’t I already shared the most extreme form of intimacy with him? Twice? Whoa … we’re lovers. Lovers. That word just implies so much. It’s deep. Max is my lover. He’s my alien lover. Lover.

“Sorry I’ve been so busy lately.” He pulls me out of my thoughts and I think I’m actually blushing.

“It’s okay. Um … do you always have so many meetings and phone calls?”

“No. It’s just that so much has been happening lately.” He rubs his face with his hands and Max looks … tired.

And I think I know what’s the cause. Or rather who. “What does Khivar want?”

“You,” he says, straightforward.

Nod my head because he’s explained this to me already. Alien babies because I have weird blood. Is this to be my fate? Sigh. “Where is he?”

“He left Earth this afternoon.”

I have to crack a smile because it all still sounds just so crazy. I mean, come on, planets and spaceships and aliens are still things I’m trying to get used to. “He went back to… Zenic?” Is that what it was called?

“Xenith,” Max corrects me. “And no. Um … the capital is located on Antar.”

“So he left?” So I don’t have to worry about people lurking outside my window at night?

“Yes. But … he’ll be back.” I don’t think Max likes the thought any more than I do. Max sighs. “He’ll leave Earth alone if we’re willing to hand you over.”

… “What?” He’ll leave Earth alone if I’m handed over? What does he plan on doing, destroying a planet to get to me? Can he do that?

“Don’t worry. I won’t let him have you.” And he pulls me to him, in his arms, like I wanted. Only, this isn’t the right moment anymore.

No, Max won’t let me go. But he’s throwing away a planet? For me? The wheels in my head are turning and I … “I want to meet him.”

“What?” Max holds me a bit away from him to look at me.

And I’m as shocked as he looks from what I said too, but … “I want-”

“I heard what you said …” his arms drop away from me and I don’t think he’s even thinking about pulling me into his arms again. “But … why?”

I just shrug and bite my lip. “I just have this feeling.”

He stands up and starts pacing. I don’t think he likes the idea. I don’t like it either. But it’s there. He stops his pacing and looks at me. “Don’t you think you should think out something like that?”

“I think I’ve learned that … life is short. Sometimes, over-thinking something is just a waste of time … and to just trust your gut instinct. And mine is telling me that I need to meet him.” Why it’s saying that? I don’t know. But I shouldn’t ignore that it’s there. Because my thoughts and urges are a part of me whether I want them to be or not. I guess it’s whether I choose to indulge them.

“I won’t lose you to him. No matter what cost.”

The emotion and the seriousness behind his words and in his eyes scare me. And I believe Max’s every word. After all, he’s willing to risk a planet for me. Am I really worth that much?

Look into his eyes and he still looks distressed. And I made him that way. Smile and try to lighten the mood. “Did you know that I can levitate a pencil?”

“Really?” He seems like he’s welcoming the change of subject.

He doesn’t come back to the bed. Instead, he leans up against the dresser, all cool-like. Does he think I’m joking? Or does he just, “you don’t look surprised.”

“I’m not.” He shakes his head. “You don’t realize it yet, but I’m sure you can do a lot more than just levitate a pencil.”

Really? Well, “what else do you think I can do?”

“The sky’s the limit.” And he smiles at me and I feel better.

“Teach me something.” I lean forward, sitting on my heels. I seem eager, don’t I? I guess it’s because this is the part I like about the whole alien thing. I don’t like the food part of the alien thing. And I don’t like the alien part of the alien thing. But the special abilities part intrigues me.

And I think Max can tell. “It’s late. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

And honestly, eyes lowered to the floor, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Hold my breath for his response. “You’re not.” My eyes slowly rise to meet his. He comforts me. He soothes me. He keeps me warm. “Come on.” He takes a few steps towards me and stretches his hand out. I place my hand into his before he leads me off to his room.

No, I won’t have to be alone again. Max will make sure of it. At least, for tonight he will.



-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Evelynn on Mon Aug 27, 2007 12:06 am, edited 2 times in total.
Locked