Jim Valenti noted the look on the faces of both sets of parents as they read the letters. Diane Evans seemed to be sobbing quietly, and all four parents seemdd shaken by what they had read.
“Mr. and Mrs. Parker, Mr. and Mrs. Evans,….I’d appreciate it if I could read those, or better yet get a copy of those e-mails.”
Both sets of parents nodded their agreement and Alex made two clicks of the mouse and the printer spat out the two copies. Both fathers were trying to console their spouses, although they themselves had tears trickling down as the Sheriff read and reread the messages. He stood up then, and moved to a vacant corner of the room, just staring at the intersection of the walls, his eyes really not focusing on anything, as if he were lost in thought. Finally he returned to the table.
“Roberto, thanks for your help. You can leave now. Would you please tell Ms. Robertson that I’d like to see her here in about ten minutes?”
“Sure thing, Sheriff.”
The deputy excused himself and left the room. Jim Valenti walked over to Isabel, who was sitting by Alex Whitman.
“Ms. Evans, I’d like you to go wait in my office. I have some things to say to your parents. Mr. Whitman, please wait in there too.”
The two stood up and left through the side door, as the Sheriff turned to face the parents.
“Mr. and Mrs. Parker…..do you believe that message is from your daughter, her own words..not coerced in any way?”
The Parkers looked at each other, had a short private conversation. Finally Jeff Parker said, “Yes Sheriff. We’re sure that was Lizzy….sure that’s how she must have felt.”
“Good. Mr. and Mrs. Evans……..do you believe that message is from your son, his own words..not coerced in any way?”
Both nodded. “Yeah,” said Philip. “That sounds like Max alright.”
“Well that’s good too. I suppose the Jeep,..I suppose the title is in your names, since Max isn’t old enough. Were you planning on having your son charged with auto theft?”
Even as Philip was shaking his head, a tearful Diane said, “Sheriff, of course not. We don’t want Max to be in trouble…we just want him back.”
The Sheriff sat down at the head of the table and looked at the two parents, his expression stern.
“Let me tell you a little story. Last year my son was the only freshman to make the Varsity football team. He was so happy. He had all these new friends, all of them older than he was. At the end of the season they had a party, because they had won the conference championship. There was drinking at the party, and Kyle came home drunk.
Now Kyle is a good kid, but even good kids make mistakes, and that was a bad one. He had just gotten a car, an old Mustang that he had fixed up. For the next 4 months, the only time he drove that car was Friday nights, to the Roswell Hospital Emergency Room, to work as a volunteer. He saw the results of underage drinking, of drinking and driving, of drinking leading to domestic abuse.
Now I’m a realist. I’m not foolish enough to believe that I’ve somehow stopped all drinking on the West Roswell football team, or that I could get Kyle to turn in his friends for doing it. Three times he was late getting home from parties this year…three times because he made himself the designated driver for kids who had been drinking. Three times he took their keys away from them and drove them home himself. Three times he had some guy who might have got himself killed, get home safely….each time barfing in his pet Mustang.
I really wonder if you people realize just how good you had it. Your kids are honor students, they’ve never been in any trouble. Now you’ve told me that you think these messages are genuine, well what does that mean? There hasn’t been an abduction here. Sure, they are underage. I suppose we have a curfew violation already, probably truancy if we don’t get them back by Monday, ….but in the grand scheme of things, compared to the crimes we have to deal with here on a daily basis, this just isn’t worth wasting police resources to pursue it any further.”
“But Sheriff…” started four parents simultaneously, stopping when the Sheriff put his hand up like a policeman stopping traffic, as he continued, “…but even so, under one condition, I’m going to keep this case active, and you either agree to that condition or accept the fact that this department has done all it’s going to do…”
“What’s that, Sheriff,” asked Jeff Parker.
“The deal is this, IF we can get those two back, if we can find them, there isn’t going to be any boarding school talk, at least until all six of you have gone to family counseling for ten sessions. I don’t expect Liz and Max to not be punished, they’ve certainly screwed up, but it’s going to do no good to get them back if you do something that’s just going to send them running again.
These are good kids, and I think more capable than any of you realize, and I think you are finding out they are pretty committed as well. Those are all good qualities, we just need to channel them into doing things a little less disruptive to everyone’s lives than they have been the last few days.
So those are the terms, take them or leave them. I’ve got criminals to go after, and,” and at that time, had they not been quite so upset, the parents might have detected a thin smile on Jim Valenti’s face, “Max may be a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s a criminal. Liz either, for that matter.”
It wasn’t really like they’d been given much of a choice, but the parents all gave their word. A young lady in her mid-twenties knocked and entered.
“Ah, just who we needed,” said the Sheriff. “This is Ms, Robertson, Angela I would like you to meet Jeff and Nancy Parker, and Philip and Diane Evans. Ms. Robertson is a grad student at UNM, doing a Master’s in forensic psychology to become a profiler. She's interning here for the next two months. Angela, these people have some runaway children. I’d like you to work with them…we are going to try to find those children, which may not be that easy. Then we’ll have to get them back here. Then convince them to stay. That may be the hardest of all, unless we handle it properly. Now if you five will excuse me, I need to go to my office.”
When they had been ushered in to his office, Isabel had tears in her eyes, but she was holding it together, until Alex spoke to her.
“Isabel, it’ll be OK…”
“No it won’t, Alex….and it’s all my fault.”
“Isabel, it was Max and Liz that made the choices.”
“No Alex, it was me…me and Michael that pushed them…pushed them into experimenting that night….that’s what lead to this.”
“You couldn’t have known this would happen, Isabel. And we’ll get them back somehow, I promise we will.”
She buried her head in his shoulder, the tears coming down, driven by quiet little sobs. And that’s how the Sheriff found them.
He sat down at his desk, and looked at the two teenagers, the copies of the messages in his hand.
“Mr. Whitman, is there anything more you can tell me about Max and Liz….anything at all?”
He watched as both teenagers briefly stiffened, a quick glance exchanged between them before Alex replied, “N-no Sheriff, nothing at all.”
“Well Alex, I’m the Sheriff of Chavez country. I suppose I ought to be concerned that nobody breaks any computer security laws in places like Barcelona, and Portugal, and Bolivia, but to tell you the truth…that’s a little out of my jurisdiction but SHOULD you learn any more about the location of those two, I think I would be personally offended if you chose to not share that information with me. Do we understand one another?”
“Uh….yeah Sheriff, I’ll get right on it…”
“Sheriff, what did you say to my parents?”
“I told them that we didn’t have the resources to go after every runaway teenager, that we have REAL crimes to contend with.”
“But Sheriff….”
”Real crimes, Ms. Evans. Like..I’ve still got an open case from just five months back…two men with no impulse control whatever, wrestling with a gun in a public restaurant…the gun went off, might have killed someone, Ms. Evans. That’s certainly more important than a couple of teen runaways…”
Suddenly both teenagers became deadly quiet, staring at the Sheriff. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and smiled. He read out loud, “Tell her she doesn’t have to be an Ice Princess. Tell her it’s OK to be human. Better than that, it’s wonderful. “
He looked at the two teenagers and smiled. “That’s good advice, coming from a teen runaway. You know, Ms. Evans, it isn’t where we come from that makes us human, or even what we are. Sometimes it’s the decisions we make. It looks like your brother has decided to embrace his own human side, and despite the trouble it has caused, it would be hard to say that embracing your human side is ever a bad idea.”
“So you aren’t going to be searching for my brother..”
“Actually, we are. I told your parents we’d keep the case going, conditional on all the parents and Max and Liz getting some counseling once we find them. Liz and Max have handled this real clumsily, but so has everyone else. Granted, they’ve made a few mistakes, but then….they’re both only human, right?
You two can go now…”
Discipline Malfunction (M/L Mature) [COMPLETE]
Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators
9:40 The Crashdown Café, Roswell NM
Michael saw Isabel and Alex as they approached the door of the Crashdown, and went inside with them. There wasn’t much business, the breakfast rush being nearly over and the lunch rush not yet started. The three sat in the booth farthest back from the door, away from the few other customers. Maria came up to them and quickly took their orders, giving them to Jose, then crowded back into the booth next to Alex.
“Input,” said Maria to Alex, “I need input.”
“Well, I’m sure you heard from Jose, I got messages from Liz and Max to forward on to their parents.”
“Well where are they?” asked Maria and Michael so near simultaneously it seemed like it came to him in stereo.
“There’s no way of telling. It was sent through anonymous remailers, so we wouldn’t be able to track it easily.”
”Well did you read the messages? What did they say?” asked Maria.
“Not much,” replied Alex. Certainly nothing that would give away where they are. They just wanted everybody to know they were alright.”
“Alright? Alright?!” Being gone isn’t alright, Alex. Being with your family and friends is alright. Being home where it’s safe is alright. Not being on the road, with your parents royally pissed at you.”
“Well they aren’t hurt anyway, Maria. Is that better?” inquired Alex.
“It’s all our fault,” Isabel said, looking at Michael. “We put him up to that, and it all blew up. It’s all our fault.”
“Put him up to what?” asked Maria, alternating between glaring at Isabel and glaring at Michael.
“Well, when they were making out they were getting…..,” started Michael.
“Silver hickeys…I know, I helped Liz cover one up.”
“Not that. They were getting…well, Liz was getting…flashes.”
“Flashes?”
“Yeah. Somehow she was getting these visions about our home world.”
Maria already didn’t like where this was heading, starting to glare sternly, alternating it between Isabel and Michael.
“And so you did what?”
“Well, we wanted to get more information,..” said Michael
“And…..??” asked Maria in a demanding tone.
Isabel shook her head sadly. “So we encouraged Max to take it…farther.”
“FARTHER…?”
“Well, the more passionate they got, it seemed like the more information they got,” said Isabel.
“So they wound up staying out all night? Because you told Max to USE Liz, to help you find your home world? And now, now when their parents came down on them, my best friend is out there somewhere…run off…gone forever? HOW COULD YOU!”
“Relax, Maria,” said Michael. “She knew what she was getting in to. She sort of..volunteered.”
“Of course she volunteered. She’d do anything for Max. You both knew that. All you had to do was ask. What did you tell Max, Michael? Something like, tell her ‘Come on baby. Help me find my home planet’!”
The sheepish, deer-in-the-headlights look on Michaels face was all she required to start pushing on him, slapping at his hands.
He moved off the bench and backed steadily away from her, giving ground. “I don’t believe you Michael, how could you do that? Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just use people, like they are expendable, like a damn Kleenex or something.”
Despite his best efforts to escape, she soon had him cornered in the utility closet, slamming the door behind them and continuing to shout at him. Gradually she quieted down, apparently running out of breath, while Alex and Isabel stared at the closet with wide eyes.
“Order up,” said Jose, as he rang the bell two minutes later.
When Maria didn’t emerge, Alex went to the window and picked up the three meals, bringing them back to the table. Then he went to the utility closet, knocked gently, and said, “Michael, your Will Smith is ready.” Hearing no sound he opened the door and stuck his head in, yanking it out immediately and returning to the table across from Isabel, an expression of complete shock on his face.
“Michael change his mind?” she asked.
“I think he’s busy now.”
“Think he’ll mind if I have some of his fries?”
“I dunno. I think he’s going to need his strength…”
Five minutes later, Isabel was almost done. Alex hadn’t touched his food. Suddenly he asked, “Do Czechoslovakians have longer tongues than regular people?”
“Why do you ask, Alex?”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at the closet.
Isabel looked at Alex, remembering the Sheriff’s words, ‘it would be hard to say that embracing your human side is ever a bad idea.’
She smiled at him before she spoke.
“I don’t know, Alex. Maybe you’ll have to tell me…..”
Michael saw Isabel and Alex as they approached the door of the Crashdown, and went inside with them. There wasn’t much business, the breakfast rush being nearly over and the lunch rush not yet started. The three sat in the booth farthest back from the door, away from the few other customers. Maria came up to them and quickly took their orders, giving them to Jose, then crowded back into the booth next to Alex.
“Input,” said Maria to Alex, “I need input.”
“Well, I’m sure you heard from Jose, I got messages from Liz and Max to forward on to their parents.”
“Well where are they?” asked Maria and Michael so near simultaneously it seemed like it came to him in stereo.
“There’s no way of telling. It was sent through anonymous remailers, so we wouldn’t be able to track it easily.”
”Well did you read the messages? What did they say?” asked Maria.
“Not much,” replied Alex. Certainly nothing that would give away where they are. They just wanted everybody to know they were alright.”
“Alright? Alright?!” Being gone isn’t alright, Alex. Being with your family and friends is alright. Being home where it’s safe is alright. Not being on the road, with your parents royally pissed at you.”
“Well they aren’t hurt anyway, Maria. Is that better?” inquired Alex.
“It’s all our fault,” Isabel said, looking at Michael. “We put him up to that, and it all blew up. It’s all our fault.”
“Put him up to what?” asked Maria, alternating between glaring at Isabel and glaring at Michael.
“Well, when they were making out they were getting…..,” started Michael.
“Silver hickeys…I know, I helped Liz cover one up.”
“Not that. They were getting…well, Liz was getting…flashes.”
“Flashes?”
“Yeah. Somehow she was getting these visions about our home world.”
Maria already didn’t like where this was heading, starting to glare sternly, alternating it between Isabel and Michael.
“And so you did what?”
“Well, we wanted to get more information,..” said Michael
“And…..??” asked Maria in a demanding tone.
Isabel shook her head sadly. “So we encouraged Max to take it…farther.”
“FARTHER…?”
“Well, the more passionate they got, it seemed like the more information they got,” said Isabel.
“So they wound up staying out all night? Because you told Max to USE Liz, to help you find your home world? And now, now when their parents came down on them, my best friend is out there somewhere…run off…gone forever? HOW COULD YOU!”
“Relax, Maria,” said Michael. “She knew what she was getting in to. She sort of..volunteered.”
“Of course she volunteered. She’d do anything for Max. You both knew that. All you had to do was ask. What did you tell Max, Michael? Something like, tell her ‘Come on baby. Help me find my home planet’!”
The sheepish, deer-in-the-headlights look on Michaels face was all she required to start pushing on him, slapping at his hands.
He moved off the bench and backed steadily away from her, giving ground. “I don’t believe you Michael, how could you do that? Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just use people, like they are expendable, like a damn Kleenex or something.”
Despite his best efforts to escape, she soon had him cornered in the utility closet, slamming the door behind them and continuing to shout at him. Gradually she quieted down, apparently running out of breath, while Alex and Isabel stared at the closet with wide eyes.
“Order up,” said Jose, as he rang the bell two minutes later.
When Maria didn’t emerge, Alex went to the window and picked up the three meals, bringing them back to the table. Then he went to the utility closet, knocked gently, and said, “Michael, your Will Smith is ready.” Hearing no sound he opened the door and stuck his head in, yanking it out immediately and returning to the table across from Isabel, an expression of complete shock on his face.
“Michael change his mind?” she asked.
“I think he’s busy now.”
“Think he’ll mind if I have some of his fries?”
“I dunno. I think he’s going to need his strength…”
Five minutes later, Isabel was almost done. Alex hadn’t touched his food. Suddenly he asked, “Do Czechoslovakians have longer tongues than regular people?”
“Why do you ask, Alex?”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at the closet.
Isabel looked at Alex, remembering the Sheriff’s words, ‘it would be hard to say that embracing your human side is ever a bad idea.’
She smiled at him before she spoke.
“I don’t know, Alex. Maybe you’ll have to tell me…..”
12:40 The Birthday Room, Crashdown Café, Roswell NM
Liz and Max had been classmates for seven years, and the Parkers and Evans probably hadn’t exchanged 200 words prior to Liz and Max starting dating. Even then, prior to the 5AM phone call, they probably hadn’t talked with each other for a half hour in their entire lives. But misery, as they say, loves company, and for the last 32 hours all four parents had been pretty miserable, and they had been seeing an awful lot of each other.
And that might have caused friction and even animosity between the two groups, had they gotten to pointing fingers at one another, or one another’s child. But they’d both made some startling discoveries, particularly concerning the apparent length and breadth of their kids friendship, and they were both feeling a little sheepish that they didn’t know their own kids any better than they apparently had, considering the diaries, the yearbooks, and Isabel’s rather startling revelations.
How the hell does a third grader fall in love, anyway? And besides all that, all four parents knew that the Sheriff had just gotten through sort of reaming them for what he obviously thought was going overboard on their first discipline plan….first and last, as it turned out, since the disciplinees had flown the coop.
So here they were, meeting together for Sunday lunch, and a chance to discuss things as a sort of mutual support group. Yeah, they were miserable, but at least they had company.
“Well,” said Jeff. “I am at least glad that the kids communicated with us. Whatever else they have done, they at least had that much consideration.”
“Yeah. It’s at least good to know that they are still alive, not in an auto accident or something. But that’s about all the information we got out of it…nothing about where they were or what their plans are,” said Philip.
“That’s not altogether fair, Philip,” said his wife, remembering Max’s apology to her for being distant. It had warmed his mother’s heart.
“There were a lot of things they said that I think we should do some thinking about.”
“I don’t know, Diane. I guess I just can’t understand how they could do this. I guess I’m just a different generation. But I really thought that we raised Max differently. I wouldn’t have believed he would ever do something like this.”
“In all fairness,” said Nancy, “We had been assuming that they had really only cared about each other for two months, not seven years.”
“I’m not too sure we can give any credence to that third grade stuff that Isabel talked about, Nancy. I’ve never heard of a third grader ever falling in love…, even puppy love….unless maybe with a real puppy,” replied Philip.
“Well Philip,” said Diane, “ suppose it were only for three years....We know they cared about each other that long, because of his yearbooks and her diaries. If we’d really thought they had been going together for three years, would we have acted the way we did when they came in yesterday…knowing they cared that much?”
“Maybe not. Three years is a long time to go steady. Of course, we’d have never let them go steady.”
“How would we have stopped it? Force them to date someone else. It isn’t like Max hasn’t had opportunities, he just wasn’t interested. Until he started dating Liz, I actually was beginning to wonder if he even liked girls.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t leave any room for doubt in his letter how he feels about Liz,” replied Phillip. “But even if maybe we should have been a little more tolerant about yesterday night…how can we excuse what they are doing now?”
“I agree,” said Jeff. “Let’s pretend that they just started liking each other 8 weeks ago, and they really had dated for three years. Now at that point I’d concede they would have probably moved past the googly eyes and hand-holding stage, but they are off on their own, driving across the country in that Jeep somewhere. You know what will inevitably happen, if it hasn’t happened already. I have to admit, Max had me fooled. Usually when I give the talk to someone dating Liz about standards and values, I can tell it’s going in one ear and out the other. But Max…Max actually had me convinced that he bought in to the same standards.”
“I really thought he had, Jeff,” said Philip. “I would have never believed he would do something like this. I’m really afraid you are right, teenage hormones being what they are, if they haven’t engaged in premarital sex by now, it’s likely only a matter of time. Those aren’t the values I taught my son…I don’t know where he got them…MTV, maybe.”
“Yeah. Liz says Max and I are so much alike…I don’t see it. I would have never, at that age or any other, had sex without being married. Those just aren’t my values, never were.”
“Well Jeff, let’s hope that we get lucky and the Sheriff’s office or someone finds them, before they get around to premarital sex,” said Philip Evans.
Around the table, three heads nodded silently in agreement.
Liz and Max had been classmates for seven years, and the Parkers and Evans probably hadn’t exchanged 200 words prior to Liz and Max starting dating. Even then, prior to the 5AM phone call, they probably hadn’t talked with each other for a half hour in their entire lives. But misery, as they say, loves company, and for the last 32 hours all four parents had been pretty miserable, and they had been seeing an awful lot of each other.
And that might have caused friction and even animosity between the two groups, had they gotten to pointing fingers at one another, or one another’s child. But they’d both made some startling discoveries, particularly concerning the apparent length and breadth of their kids friendship, and they were both feeling a little sheepish that they didn’t know their own kids any better than they apparently had, considering the diaries, the yearbooks, and Isabel’s rather startling revelations.
How the hell does a third grader fall in love, anyway? And besides all that, all four parents knew that the Sheriff had just gotten through sort of reaming them for what he obviously thought was going overboard on their first discipline plan….first and last, as it turned out, since the disciplinees had flown the coop.
So here they were, meeting together for Sunday lunch, and a chance to discuss things as a sort of mutual support group. Yeah, they were miserable, but at least they had company.
“Well,” said Jeff. “I am at least glad that the kids communicated with us. Whatever else they have done, they at least had that much consideration.”
“Yeah. It’s at least good to know that they are still alive, not in an auto accident or something. But that’s about all the information we got out of it…nothing about where they were or what their plans are,” said Philip.
“That’s not altogether fair, Philip,” said his wife, remembering Max’s apology to her for being distant. It had warmed his mother’s heart.
“There were a lot of things they said that I think we should do some thinking about.”
“I don’t know, Diane. I guess I just can’t understand how they could do this. I guess I’m just a different generation. But I really thought that we raised Max differently. I wouldn’t have believed he would ever do something like this.”
“In all fairness,” said Nancy, “We had been assuming that they had really only cared about each other for two months, not seven years.”
“I’m not too sure we can give any credence to that third grade stuff that Isabel talked about, Nancy. I’ve never heard of a third grader ever falling in love…, even puppy love….unless maybe with a real puppy,” replied Philip.
“Well Philip,” said Diane, “ suppose it were only for three years....We know they cared about each other that long, because of his yearbooks and her diaries. If we’d really thought they had been going together for three years, would we have acted the way we did when they came in yesterday…knowing they cared that much?”
“Maybe not. Three years is a long time to go steady. Of course, we’d have never let them go steady.”
“How would we have stopped it? Force them to date someone else. It isn’t like Max hasn’t had opportunities, he just wasn’t interested. Until he started dating Liz, I actually was beginning to wonder if he even liked girls.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t leave any room for doubt in his letter how he feels about Liz,” replied Phillip. “But even if maybe we should have been a little more tolerant about yesterday night…how can we excuse what they are doing now?”
“I agree,” said Jeff. “Let’s pretend that they just started liking each other 8 weeks ago, and they really had dated for three years. Now at that point I’d concede they would have probably moved past the googly eyes and hand-holding stage, but they are off on their own, driving across the country in that Jeep somewhere. You know what will inevitably happen, if it hasn’t happened already. I have to admit, Max had me fooled. Usually when I give the talk to someone dating Liz about standards and values, I can tell it’s going in one ear and out the other. But Max…Max actually had me convinced that he bought in to the same standards.”
“I really thought he had, Jeff,” said Philip. “I would have never believed he would do something like this. I’m really afraid you are right, teenage hormones being what they are, if they haven’t engaged in premarital sex by now, it’s likely only a matter of time. Those aren’t the values I taught my son…I don’t know where he got them…MTV, maybe.”
“Yeah. Liz says Max and I are so much alike…I don’t see it. I would have never, at that age or any other, had sex without being married. Those just aren’t my values, never were.”
“Well Jeff, let’s hope that we get lucky and the Sheriff’s office or someone finds them, before they get around to premarital sex,” said Philip Evans.
Around the table, three heads nodded silently in agreement.
11PM Room 328 Circus-Circus Casino, On the Strip, Las Vegas NV
It had been a long and interesting day. Liz’s cramps had bothered her for most of it, despite the Midol. But she was comfortable again now, laying on her left side on the bed spooned up with Max, his right hand pulsing gentle warmth into her lower abdomen.
‘Funny,’ she thought. ‘This is almost like the day started. But so much has happened since then..’
She had bought a new journal, the old one still presumably safe in its niche in her bedroom wall. She lay on her side feeling the best she had felt all day and started to write…
“Liz,… you can carry the Journal stuff too far sometimes.”
“Just a minute, let me finish two or three more paragraphs, Max.”
‘He’s been tickling my right nipple with his left index finger on and off for the last 45 minutes, taking a childish delight out of seeing it harden. He’s about to find out that two can play that game, if he keeps doing it,’ Liz thought, before returning to her writing.
He didn’t say anything at first, just held her close, feeling her back against his chest. Finally he kissed the back of her neck, and worked his way around to her mouth. “No, we’ll just keep you warm, keep you comfortable. We have each other …and all the time in the world.”
They spooned together, his right hand giving off a warm glow above her panties even after both were asleep, while his left hand cupped her breast softly. Their hearts seemed to beat as one…..
It had been a long and interesting day. Liz’s cramps had bothered her for most of it, despite the Midol. But she was comfortable again now, laying on her left side on the bed spooned up with Max, his right hand pulsing gentle warmth into her lower abdomen.
‘Funny,’ she thought. ‘This is almost like the day started. But so much has happened since then..’
She had bought a new journal, the old one still presumably safe in its niche in her bedroom wall. She lay on her side feeling the best she had felt all day and started to write…
- It’s February 25th and it has been a busy and eventful day. Max and I awoke at 6AM. I think both of us were stiff and sore, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad night. We talked a lot on the trip north to Flagstaff before we stopped for breakfast. I’m the one who always liked to have a plan, but on this occasion I think Max’s plan topped any that I could possibly have thought of.
We had a great breakfast in Flagstaff, but other than that it was sort of a gas and go. We took I-90 to Bullhead City before turning north, and pretty much all of the serious weather was behind us by the time we passed Kingman, AZ. We had an early lunch there, in a great Mexican restaurant along the old Route 66. Someday I hope we can go back and explore the town even further, but we wanted to get here and get this room as soon as we could, so we didn’t tarry. We got in about 1PM. It’s hard to believe how much has happened since then.
The room is only about $45 a night, because they make up for it from all the money people lose gambling. We checked in at 1PM. In the lobby was an arcade area for children to use while their parents are gambling. We used the photo machine prior to even getting to the room. As soon as we got here, Max left again to go to Kinko’s for materials. I hit the shower as soon as he was out the door. It was heaven to be clean again. Max got back just as I was starting to dry my hair. He smiled and waved his hand and…just like that it was dry and combed out. Where has he been all my life?
We spent about thirty minutes making fake ID, several sets, in several different names. Then he made fake supporting documents as well. The newer stuff all has holograms since anyone with a color printer and Photoshop can do just about anything they want when it comes to making fake ID. And as he demonstrated, holograms aren’t much of a problem if you can do molecular manipulation. The small laminator he got at Office Depot was the biggest expense, about $40.
Next we went down to the shops and went on a clothes buying spree. We each needed one good looking and upscale outfit. I was worried about that, it cost over half of the money we had left. I should have known to have confidence in Max. He’s always been there when I needed him.
Next was back up to the room and dress up. He’s always looked great, even in Levis and a T-shirt, but…damn…he sure cleans up well. After that, back downstairs to the casino.
Max believed that it would be risky for us to win a lot of money….they verify your ID to send a form to the IRS if you win too much at one time….check your age pretty thoroughly too. Sure, we had fake ID that said that we were twenty-one, and maybe dressed up like that we ALMOST looked the part, but it was safer to be part of the background rather than the subject of the story.
We went to the high-roller area, where the big money gets bet. The game he chose was Roulette. It’s kind of a dumb game, really. Statistically, the house always wins, like in most of Las Vegas. But we had a system. In Roulette you can bet on colors. We pretended not to know each other, got to different parts of the table, and started betting. The minimum bet was $50. He’d bet on red, I’d bet on black. One would win, one would lose. Overall, we’d break even, unless zero or double zero came up. If it did…well, we both lost. Not much of a system, huh?
But every third or fourth bet, one of us would bet twice the minimum. If I bet $100 on red, he still bet $50 on black. But if the ball was about to land on a black slot, he’d give it a tiny nudge with his powers, just enough to let it land somewhere else. Sometimes it’d still land on black…it was only a fifty-fifty chance. But overall, it changed the odds from about a 94% return to about a 107% return by doing it this way. One of us lost every time one of us won, but the one winning usually had the bigger bet.
But nobody paid any attention to us, because at that table, we were betting chump-change. You wouldn’t believe the fortunes that were won and lost there, probably better than $100,000 an hour. The $200 an hour we each made…wasn’t even noticed.
We kept that up for 6 hours, and wound up with almost $2500, before we had to get to the County Clerk’s office with our other ID, and then to our appointment. After that, it was back here. We had a room service dinner to celebrate…and…
- ..sorry for the interruption and the sloppy writing. Max just tickled me. Anyway, we had a great dinner and…
“Liz,… you can carry the Journal stuff too far sometimes.”
“Just a minute, let me finish two or three more paragraphs, Max.”
‘He’s been tickling my right nipple with his left index finger on and off for the last 45 minutes, taking a childish delight out of seeing it harden. He’s about to find out that two can play that game, if he keeps doing it,’ Liz thought, before returning to her writing.
- No, the Elvis chapel wasn’t exactly the kind of wedding I’d envisioned; it would have been nice to have Maria there for Maid of Honor and Michael rather than an ersatz Elvis for best man. And my period just starting and a small room at Circus-Circus,….well, none of those were exactly how I’d envisioned a honeymoon when I was a little girl.
I told Max that we could…you know, consummate it anyway if he wanted to, but I think that he felt how uneasy I was...wanting our first time to be …really nice. I almost cried when he said, ‘I can wait a few days…or a lifetime, I just want to be with you.’
So here I am, lying in bed with him, feeling him against me, knowing that this is the start of forever.
We’ll probably stay here a few days, make a small nest egg at the Roulette wheel, and then move on. No, it’s not really what I dreamed about when I was a little girl, but even so, it’s been the best day of my entire life.
I’m Elizabeth Evans, and I’m very happy.
He didn’t say anything at first, just held her close, feeling her back against his chest. Finally he kissed the back of her neck, and worked his way around to her mouth. “No, we’ll just keep you warm, keep you comfortable. We have each other …and all the time in the world.”
They spooned together, his right hand giving off a warm glow above her panties even after both were asleep, while his left hand cupped her breast softly. Their hearts seemed to beat as one…..
- It's February 25th and I'm Liz Evans....I still get goosebumps thinking about that.
Why didn't anybody ever tell me about this? Mom and I had "the talk" when I was about nine. It seemed to be mostly about...plumbing. Then 5th grade Health class. More plumbing. Sixth grade Sex Ed. Plumbing...plus how to cover a banana with latex. And when we all started dating we'd talk at slumber parties about ...first base...second base... how to keep him interested without letting things get too far. And even...thirty-six hours ago, when Max just reached out to help me with my cramps...I was ready to take his head off, worried that he was trying to steal a base.
Every time I've ever accidently bumped in to a boy or one has accidently bumped in to me since sixth grade I've been told to worry...was this a sexual advance. You seem to spend your entire teen years worrying about what the other one's doing, what the other one's thinking...is the other one trying to get you to go someplace that you're not ready to go...
Why don't they tell you about this? Last night I fell asleep with Max's hand on my breast. Today I woke up...and it was still there. I don't have to worry that he's starting out the day on second base. Today, we are on the same team.
We woke up in each others arms. Not like two days ago, when we both kind of knew we didn't really belong there. This morning I woke up in his arms...and I was home.
Max is in the shower this morning so I'm going to write a little more in my journal until it's my turn.
I was thinking about showering with him, but he discouraged me. 'Liz,' he said....'I don't think you are going to want a shower that cold...' Poor dear. But I warned him if he kept playing with my....well, never mind. Where were we?
I knew Max was brilliant, but when he told me the plan yesterday..at first I was just too overcome by what he was asking me to do to really appreciate it. His wife.....forever. Wow!
But then I could tell he was a little tentative...I finally coaxed it out of him. He was worried that maybe our chemistry wasn't compatible..that we wouldn't be able to...you know, make babies. He looked so embarrassed talking about it....he was so sweet.
I told him 10% of couples aren't fertile...like his folks. I told him we could adopt if need be, they had...and they'd gotten a couple of pretty good kids. I think he was embarrassed to bring the subject up..so I told him, in four or five years we'll study the issue of whether or not Max and Liz Evans are capable of having kids scientifically....do exhaustive experiments, if necessary. I've never seen him blush so much.
Anyway, getting back to the story, Max got on the internet yesterday morning and did some research. Marriage is a big industry in Las Vegas. Actually, they'd have given us a license with notarized approval from our folks, even at 16. But they'd have kept those permission letters. The folks are none too pleased with us right now, and leaving that kind of a paper trail would have only irritated them worse..plus made it easier to get it annulled, because they'd have evidence of forgery. By just adding two years to our ages on our own driver's licenses, we got the marriage license and got the altered licenses back. It's neat that Max is a lawyer's kid, he found the loophole real quick.
Nobody in Las Vegas wants to get sued, so they made the laws so it's never the state's fault. Thousands of people get married here, from all over the world. There isn't any waiting period and the chapels in the casino go 24 hours a day. Even the Clark County Clerk's office goes 18 hours a day...just for marriage licenses. They have to deal with driver's licenses from 50 states, passports from the whole world, military identification cards, everything. Of course they make mistakes. But it doesn't matter, under state law. If they issue a license, it's valid, as long as we aren't already married. If we take it to someone authorized to perform weddings and get married, it's valid. Even if we used altered ID...like we did...I really am legally Mrs.Max Evans.
Now comes the problem. It can be annulled. It's legal until it is...but it can be annulled. But they have to catch us first. By already being legally married we create something called a "rebuttable presumption" that the marriage is valid. Oh, the folks can get it annulled....by demonstrating that we were underage when given the license, that the clerk's office somehow misread our ages, but they've got to do that in court, and the judge has to approve it. The key thing is, we have to be there. They can't do that, 'in absentia', because the presumption is that we are legally married and until the court has heard our side....it can't act. And if it can't act....we stay married.
So the trick, obviously, is going to be to avoid anyone catching us until we are legal age...about 18 months from now. Even if we can't....well, the longer the better. I really don't think...maybe I'm wrong, but I really don't think my parents would get an annulment if they caught us...say...a year from now. I really think I could look my folks in the eye and say, "I love him. I've shared his name and I've shared his bed, and you just can't make that go away. And I'll marry him again in 6 months anyway." I can't believe, even if they were real mad at us...that they'd keep us apart then. Or his folks either.
So that's how we are going to get our lives back. In 18 months I'll be 18 and Max...good Lord, who knows how old Max is, but he'll legally be 18 too by then. We can go back to Roswell, be with friends and family. Sure, maybe they'll be mad for awhile, we were both real mad at them day before yesterday too. They'll get over it. The only problem is we'll have to stay in Nevada, because if we get caught in another state...well, the laws aren't necessarily the same. We wouldn't HAVE to be heard at the annullment, if we weren't of legal age. But it's a big state, and we are both used to the desert. Whoops, the showers off. My turn I guess, so I'll have to go.
I'm Liz Evans (sigh)
and it's a wonderful world...........
It was a busy day for Max and Liz Evans. They spread the business around the Las Vegas Strip. Three hours at the Stardust Casino, then two at the New Frontier. Lunch at Treasure Island, then an hour's work at the Roulette wheel there.
It got more interesting after lunch, going to the Mirage. Security looked at them long and hard, really scrutinizing their IDs, and only reluctantly allowing them to enter the high-roller area. Once they got to the table...well, they could understand why. This was REALLY high rolling, with minimums of $250 a bet. They only stayed two hours, but that was enough. As they returned to their modest room at Circus-Circus they stopped at the front desk and put $8000 in the safe, holding on to another $400. Max said they'd worked hard enough for the day, it was time for a night on the town.
They'd bought some additional clothes for their one last day at the tables tomorrow. They changed quickly and took a cab to Caesar's Palace, to see the Colosseum, for a dinner show.
They ended up dancing for two hours at The Beach. Liz couldn't remember when she'd had so much fun.
"Well Liz, what did you like best?" Max asked, as he helped her out of the cab in front of Circus-Circus.
"Easy," said Liz. "Coming home......with you."
11:00 PM Mountain Time (10PM Pacific time) The Evans Residence, Roswell New Mexico.
She’d tried them both. Could it be they were too far away? Or were they just not yet asleep. Sadly, she put the yearbook down and took the alarm clock from the side table, setting it for 2:00 AM. Perhaps she’d have better luck then……
11:50 PM Room 328 Circus-Circus Casino, On the Strip, Las Vegas NV
It had been a long day, much of it spent at the high-roller tables of the casinos. Enforcement of indoor clean air rules was spotty in any of the casinos, near high stakes roulette wheels it appeared to be non-existent. The problem, really, was her hair. Normally she wouldn’t wash it at this hour, but recently it had gotten a lot easier to dry it and comb it out. So while Max was getting the laundry turned in, Liz took a shower, shampooing her hair lavishly.
It was kind of ironic, really, thought Liz. During her periods she really had never felt very…feminine, although if you thought about it, it was the very essence of being feminine. Even so, she’d never wanted one to be over quite as badly as she did this one. But the flow had slowed to where a tampon ought to be more than adequate.
When she emerged from the shower, Max noted with amusement she was wearing a pair of his boxers and his T-shirt. He chuckled briefly as he was drying her hair.
“Well I’m sorry. Had I known we were getting married when I saw you knocking on the window of my room, I’d have brought my whole trousseau.”
“Actually, I sort of liked the outfit you had on last night,” Max replied as he turned out the light and they got in to bed. He could see her smile, her face illuminated by the lights of the Las Vegas strip coming around the edges of the blinds of the third story window. She had that little crooked smile she always got, whenever she was about to tease him.
“Well that’s easy to fix,” Liz replied, pulling the T-shirt over her head and tossing it at him playfully.
The next two hours were largely consumed by kisses and caresses, both of their lips and hands ranging rather widely. He knew the question was coming, even before she asked. The response was the same…although he appeared to be weakening.
‘Poor darling,’ she thought. ‘The timing was terrible….probably the night after next.’
As his hands continued to range he stopped abruptly, feeling an imperfection on her hip under the boxers.
“A band-aid? Liz, I can fix it,” he said, his hand starting to glow as he approached it.
She slapped it away. “A birth control patch, actually Max. They have a small clinic at Caesar's Palace. After all, you gotta have a plan…”
Max allowed as how he had several, but they probably wouldn’t happen for another 48 hours.
In the end, they wound up in the same position. As they were getting tired he again placed his hand on her lower abdomen, and the gentle glow warmed her. “Is that better?”
“Much.”
“Is that the right spot?”
“A little lower would be good.”
“OK?”
“Just a bit further…Mmmmmmm…just right.”
“Sweet dreams…”
“Sweet dreams to you, too Max.”
As Max and Liz drifted off she realized she’d never known such contentment. It had been another great day. It would have been perfect, she was sure, if it weren’t for her period. But even that was getting better. She hadn’t had a single cramp since noon…..
2:08 AM Evans Residence, Roswell NM.
As Isabel suddenly sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes went wide, the yearbook dropping unnoticed to the floor. “OH MY GOD…….!”
She’d tried them both. Could it be they were too far away? Or were they just not yet asleep. Sadly, she put the yearbook down and took the alarm clock from the side table, setting it for 2:00 AM. Perhaps she’d have better luck then……
11:50 PM Room 328 Circus-Circus Casino, On the Strip, Las Vegas NV
It had been a long day, much of it spent at the high-roller tables of the casinos. Enforcement of indoor clean air rules was spotty in any of the casinos, near high stakes roulette wheels it appeared to be non-existent. The problem, really, was her hair. Normally she wouldn’t wash it at this hour, but recently it had gotten a lot easier to dry it and comb it out. So while Max was getting the laundry turned in, Liz took a shower, shampooing her hair lavishly.
It was kind of ironic, really, thought Liz. During her periods she really had never felt very…feminine, although if you thought about it, it was the very essence of being feminine. Even so, she’d never wanted one to be over quite as badly as she did this one. But the flow had slowed to where a tampon ought to be more than adequate.
When she emerged from the shower, Max noted with amusement she was wearing a pair of his boxers and his T-shirt. He chuckled briefly as he was drying her hair.
“Well I’m sorry. Had I known we were getting married when I saw you knocking on the window of my room, I’d have brought my whole trousseau.”
“Actually, I sort of liked the outfit you had on last night,” Max replied as he turned out the light and they got in to bed. He could see her smile, her face illuminated by the lights of the Las Vegas strip coming around the edges of the blinds of the third story window. She had that little crooked smile she always got, whenever she was about to tease him.
“Well that’s easy to fix,” Liz replied, pulling the T-shirt over her head and tossing it at him playfully.
The next two hours were largely consumed by kisses and caresses, both of their lips and hands ranging rather widely. He knew the question was coming, even before she asked. The response was the same…although he appeared to be weakening.
‘Poor darling,’ she thought. ‘The timing was terrible….probably the night after next.’
As his hands continued to range he stopped abruptly, feeling an imperfection on her hip under the boxers.
“A band-aid? Liz, I can fix it,” he said, his hand starting to glow as he approached it.
She slapped it away. “A birth control patch, actually Max. They have a small clinic at Caesar's Palace. After all, you gotta have a plan…”
Max allowed as how he had several, but they probably wouldn’t happen for another 48 hours.
In the end, they wound up in the same position. As they were getting tired he again placed his hand on her lower abdomen, and the gentle glow warmed her. “Is that better?”
“Much.”
“Is that the right spot?”
“A little lower would be good.”
“OK?”
“Just a bit further…Mmmmmmm…just right.”
“Sweet dreams…”
“Sweet dreams to you, too Max.”
As Max and Liz drifted off she realized she’d never known such contentment. It had been another great day. It would have been perfect, she was sure, if it weren’t for her period. But even that was getting better. She hadn’t had a single cramp since noon…..
2:08 AM Evans Residence, Roswell NM.
As Isabel suddenly sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes went wide, the yearbook dropping unnoticed to the floor. “OH MY GOD…….!”
5:00 AM The Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico
"Thanks for meeting me, Alex," she said as she opened the window. "I needed to talk to someone. I've just lain awake looking at the ceiling for the last three hours."
"That's OK Isabel. You can call me anytime you need to talk to someone. That's what friends are for,"said Alex, somewhat distracted by the sight of her red velveteen pajamas.
"My God, Alex...You are freezing."
"Well, I parked a couple blocks away. I didn't want to wake your folks."
"Well lay down, let me put the comforter over you....at least until you stop shivering."
Five minutes later she was crying on his shoulder.
"Isabel, how do you know it was anything more than just a dream? People have erotic dreams sometimes," no doubt thinking that it was a good possibility he'd have one himself tomorrow night...likely having to do with red velveteen pajamas.
"Alex, guys have erotic dreams a lot, I know that. But Max and Liz...well they were BOTH having the same erotic dream....it was virtually identical, except of course from their own perspectives. I dreamwalked her in the past...back when she first found out. Miss prissy never had THAT sort of dream, and my straight arrow brother never ever did. "
"But if it was only a dream....so what?"
"But I don't think it was, Alex. I think that whatever force was unleashed when Michael and I pushed them to go....farther...to get information about our home world...I think it may have taken them over altogether."
"Couldn't this just be a coincidence? Isn't that possible?"
"I don't see how. In both dreams, Liz was wearing a pair of boxers that I gave Max as a Christmas present last year.....at least she was at first..."
"Too much information, Isabel. Liz has always been like a sister to me"
"You've got that right. I'm never dreamwalking either of those two again..."
She sobbed quietly on his shoulder, and finaly fell into a troubled sleep. He quickly followed.
7:15 The Evans Residence, Roswell New Mexico
"Good-bye, dear. I'm off for the office."
"Good-bye. Maybe we'll hear something today."
"I hope so. You better wake Izzy up. She's already missed breakfast, and she'll be late to school if she doesn't get going."
"I will. I don't suppose she's been sleeping any better than the rest of us. I was just letting her sleep in a bit."
They kissed good-bye and he drove off.
Diane went back inside and went to Isabel's room. She knocked gently on the door and put her head in. "Wake up, sleepyhea.........."
Three seconds later she was walking back to the kitchen, her eyes wide. 'Uh-uh, I can handle only one family crisis at a time. I DID NOT just see that...'
"Thanks for meeting me, Alex," she said as she opened the window. "I needed to talk to someone. I've just lain awake looking at the ceiling for the last three hours."
"That's OK Isabel. You can call me anytime you need to talk to someone. That's what friends are for,"said Alex, somewhat distracted by the sight of her red velveteen pajamas.
"My God, Alex...You are freezing."
"Well, I parked a couple blocks away. I didn't want to wake your folks."
"Well lay down, let me put the comforter over you....at least until you stop shivering."
Five minutes later she was crying on his shoulder.
"Isabel, how do you know it was anything more than just a dream? People have erotic dreams sometimes," no doubt thinking that it was a good possibility he'd have one himself tomorrow night...likely having to do with red velveteen pajamas.
"Alex, guys have erotic dreams a lot, I know that. But Max and Liz...well they were BOTH having the same erotic dream....it was virtually identical, except of course from their own perspectives. I dreamwalked her in the past...back when she first found out. Miss prissy never had THAT sort of dream, and my straight arrow brother never ever did. "
"But if it was only a dream....so what?"
"But I don't think it was, Alex. I think that whatever force was unleashed when Michael and I pushed them to go....farther...to get information about our home world...I think it may have taken them over altogether."
"Couldn't this just be a coincidence? Isn't that possible?"
"I don't see how. In both dreams, Liz was wearing a pair of boxers that I gave Max as a Christmas present last year.....at least she was at first..."
"Too much information, Isabel. Liz has always been like a sister to me"
"You've got that right. I'm never dreamwalking either of those two again..."
She sobbed quietly on his shoulder, and finaly fell into a troubled sleep. He quickly followed.
7:15 The Evans Residence, Roswell New Mexico
"Good-bye, dear. I'm off for the office."
"Good-bye. Maybe we'll hear something today."
"I hope so. You better wake Izzy up. She's already missed breakfast, and she'll be late to school if she doesn't get going."
"I will. I don't suppose she's been sleeping any better than the rest of us. I was just letting her sleep in a bit."
They kissed good-bye and he drove off.
Diane went back inside and went to Isabel's room. She knocked gently on the door and put her head in. "Wake up, sleepyhea.........."
Three seconds later she was walking back to the kitchen, her eyes wide. 'Uh-uh, I can handle only one family crisis at a time. I DID NOT just see that...'
Last edited by greywolf on Fri Jan 05, 2007 10:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
10:00 AM Bolling AFB, Washington DC
“Xeno-technology?” he asked, barely managing to keep the derision out of his voice.
“That’s correct, Colonel Randolph, Xeno-technology,” replied Major General Edwards.
It was a strange situation, he thought. It was the most secure conference room in Washington DC, and there were only four of them in it. He had had taken a number of briefings in this room. But this briefing wasn’t for him, he was a simple spectator.
The one taking the briefing was a brand new Colonel, a man who’d put on his eagles less than two weeks previously. And the briefers were his vice, a Lieutenant General, and the commander of the Materiel Command, a full General like himself. Another four star General, the head of the Air Force Military Personnel Center, had already talked to the briefers, assuring them that this was going to be easy.
The Air Force Chief of Staff shook his head. You didn’t get to be Chief of Staff without learning how to read people, and Colonel Steve “Slammer” Randolph wasn’t buying. And he understood why.
Oh, Colonel Randolph knew what was at stake. If he didn’t take his next assignment, he would need to put in retirement paperwork. And since he hadn’t served two years in his present rank, he’d retire as a Lieutenant Colonel, at substantial loss of retirement pay. But that wasn’t going to be enough to get him to accept the job. That’s because Slammer Randolph was a fighter pilot.
The Chief of Staff was a fighter pilot too, and always would be….even though he hadn’t flown one as pilot-in-command for almost four years. So he knew what was going through the mind of Colonel Randolph, because he’d felt the same way the first time he’d been given an assignment as something other than a fighter pilot. Sure, it was “for the good of the Air Force,” but how many times in an officer’s career did he get to hear that? Right now Slammer Randolph was thinking that the world was pretty damn unfair.
The man had certainly served the Air Force in a manner that should have earned him command of a fighter wing. He’d been an excellent and aggressive squadron commander, and the Colonel’s Board had given him their highest recommendation to command a wing. So it must have been frustrating as hell, over the last two weeks, as announcements were made of the appointment of new Wing Commanders…to see all of his contemporaries be named….all the wings go to other people, some clearly less qualified than Slammer.
Most of the people, hearing his nickname, would have assumed that Slammer was a hard charging assertive guy,…and he was. But the Chief of Staff knew that’s not how he got the nickname. Tactical call-signs are given by your squadron mates, sometimes as a joke, sometimes because of a foulup you made, sometimes because of something exceptional you did. Fighter pilots played a lot of games like that.
Slammer had gotten his nickname as a young Lieutenant, barely out of his training, when his unit had deployed to Desert Storm. He’d been flying the Viper….the F-16, and was the junior man in his squadron. It’d been the first night of the war, and his mission had been to drop bombs on anti-aircraft sites. He’d been paired with his squadron commander who had been hit and bailed out. He’d marked the mans position and at that point should have taken off for his base. But he hadn’t because someone else had fouled up bad.
It was another fighter pilot, a brand new general who had been given his first job out of the fighter cockpit, and he’d been bitter about it too. As a mission commander for an AWACS aircraft, Airborne Warning and Control System, he should have been directing the battle from 200 miles away. But the guy was inexperienced, arrogant, and senior in rank….not good qualities to have in a war. He’d ordered the unarmed AWACS way too close to the battle and ordered the combat air patrol protecting it even closer. It had seemed to the senior officer, somewhat of a turkey shoot, and he resented watching it rather than being part of it.
Clausewitz called it ‘the fog of war,’ the unpredictability that goes with any large operation. The airbase wasn’t supposed to have any fighters, but apparently a MiG-25 Foxbat had been placed there after the last reconnaissance satellite had passed over, and up it came….between the AWACS and its escort. Oh sure, the CAP guys turned, but they were way behind, and a Foxbat goes Mach 2.2. The AWACS had turned too, but it’s top speed was Mach 0.95. No way was it getting away. It would take a miracle. But that miracle had happened.
The young Lieutenant had come off his last target and heard the distress call. He shouldn’t have had the AIM-120 air-to-air missile on his aircraft at all, but he did because of a late change in the mission. So even though out of position and not really having been checked out in that mission at all, he’d dropped his external fuel tanks so he could go supersonic and lit the burner. The AIM-120, known to the fighter jocks as’ the slammer, was a radar missile and the large AWACS had 20 times the radar signature of the Foxbat. Lt. Randolph had fired from extreme range, while supersonic and the Chief of Staff knew that many people wouldn’t have done that. Because the smart money was that the AIM 120 would go for the big old AWACS. And while no one would have given the kid a bad time about not taking an impossible shot, they would have crucified him if the missile had hit the friendly aircraft. And that was the likeliest possibility by far.
But it hadn’t. The young Lieutenant had done the only thing possible that would have given the crew of the AWACS a chance, putting his own career on the line to save those men from a foul-up he had nothing to do with. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, but he got the MiG.
And that’s why the Chief of Staff had wanted the newly minted Colonel for this job, because he had done the right thing…not necessarily the smart thing, if he was looking to further his career. He’d been put in for a Silver Star, and deserved it…but someone had decided junior officers could only be awarded Silver Stars posthumously, so it was a bronze star ribbon he wore on his chest today. But it was obvious to the Chief of Staff, just reading the body language, that the man was going to turn down the job.
“Do you have any other questions, Colonel Randolph?” General Edwards asked.
“No sir.”
Edwards looked at the Chief of Staff. He was no dummy either. He knew the man hadn’t bought it.
“Gentlemen..” said the Chief of Staff, “I’d appreciate it if you’d go have a cup of coffee. I’d like to have a word with the Colonel in private.”
Slammer Randolph looked up at the Chief of Staff. ‘Here comes the hard-sell,’ he thought.
“Slammer, I’d like to have a little talk with you…not General to Colonel, but just fighter pilot to fighter pilot.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I know you are pissed…I was too when I got my first assignment out of the cockpit. You paid your dues, you did well, you should have had a fighter wing. I’m the one who stopped that from happening, and you deserve to know why.
We’ve got a problem and it’s a problem that’s been festering for quite awhile. But we’ve had some close calls recently, and we can’t let it go on any longer. The President tasked the SecDef and the SecDef tasked the Joint Chiefs and they tasked me and now I’m tasking you. This is an important assignment…even though I know you don’t believe that. Some of our real technological edges come out of our research laboratories…stealth…engines capable of supersonic cruise….the Airborne Laser…just to name a few. And this laboratory in particular has important work.”
“Sir, I don’t know anything about laboratories…or research. I’m a fighter pilot.”
“I picked you because I think you use common sense…and can make good decisions. Ever work with scientists, son? A lot of time they can’t do either.
They may be bright as can be, but they lack common sense…and sometimes make completely off the wall decisions. Commanding a laboratory…well, it’s a lot like herding cats. But it needs to be done, and it hasn’t been done well there for a long, long time.
Maybe you are familiar with the Department of Energy lab at Sandia….where they make the nukes. The problems they are having with people ignoring security regulations, losing computers full of nuclear secrets, well….. ,they’ve been in all the newspapers.
The Air Force has its own problem…a worse one, out at Groom Lake. It’s our biggest ‘black’ facility….we don’t even officially admit that it exists and we have two huge problems there.
The scientists there aren’t bad, most of them….but they are undisciplined, and some of them are frankly very questionable in their judgment. They’ve been tolerated, some for decades, because they are irreplaceable…or think they are. We’ve had some serious breaches of safety rules…..almost killed a few people…that has to stop. But even worse are the few who, …at least in my opinion, ARE bad.
The remains of that saucer got moved there in 1947, along with the bodies of the aliens that were recovered. Also the one alien who survived for a time. Do you know who was doing our space work in 1947, son?”
It had been awhile since anyone had called Rammer son, but in the military you always have only the two choices when talking to a General. On this occasion it was, “No sir.”
I want you to read up on Operation Paperclip, son. We were trying to beat the Russians, that was the priority. In a just world, some of those scientists would have been tried as war criminals. As for the alien, I’ve got no clue if he was a threat to us or not, but what they did to him….well, most of them had gotten used to human guinea pigs back in Germany. If they could do that to those people, why would they care about an alien? Now most of those people are long gone, but many of the senior people working today…well, they trained under them. They are somewhat ruthless, bitter that the alien took his secrets with him to the grave…or at least to the tank of formaldehyde he’s floating in. And they are doing stupid things….taking stupid risks, trying to make that technology work.
No I know, you can put in your retirement papers today and even if you retire as a Lieutenant Colonel, be making twice what the Air Force pays you in a couple of months, flying a passenger plane for one of the airlines, but I’ll tell you what, son. Take this job, and do it well, just for this one year, and I’ll get you the fighter wing of your choice. Do it well for three years, and I’ll do my best to see that you make a star, and that you get an air division command in fighters. Try it for a year and want out…well, I’ll see that you retire at your full rank. That’s my offer. Think it over, and give me your answer tomorrow morning.
You can go, son.”
“Yes sir.”
He watched Slammer leave. The fighter community wasn’t all that large, but it was spread around the world. He’d only crossed paths with him once before,and then only heard him over the radio. He would always remember that night, knowing he’d made a mistake, watching on the screen as the Foxbat closed on them, looking at the radar operators and controllers in the cabin of the AWACS trying to do their jobs, knowing his stupidity had killed them all. Slammer had been been Viper 23 that night, and the call had been, “Viper-23, slammer on the MiG going South at 22,000 feet….Splash one Foxbat.”
He hoped Slammer would take the job. He was just what Area 51 needed.
12:10 The bleachers behind West Roswell High School, Roswell New Mexico
The area was empty, except for the four teenagers sitting up in the stands.
“You think they were doing WHAT?”
“I think that Max and Liz might have been having sex…..”
“I can’t believe this…You two got her mixed up in this ‘find your world crap’ and she got raped?”
“I didn’t say that, Maria. I said that I thought her and Max might have been sort of overcome by whatever was causing the flashes…and that they might have had sex,” said Isabel.
“And how is that different from rape…or at least, date-rape…only instead of using a drug or something you use your alien hocus-pocus.”
“Maria, we don’t know it’s anything like that. For all we know, it might have nothing to do with our powers at all…she might have just decided…well, it was time for them.”
“Don’t give me that crap, Michael. I have known Liz since second grade. Now me, maybe. But she has always planned for the white dress, big ceremony surrounded by friends and family…..no way is she going to go off and hop in bed with a boyfriend…even Max. Not without some hocus-pocus or something going on.”
“Now Maria..”
“Don’t you ‘Now Maria,’ me, Michael. Don’t you EVER ‘Now Maria’ me…! What you and Isabel did was despicable. I don’t believe you even have the nerve to show up around Alex and me, her best friends. I ought to slap you from here to next week…”
“Now Blondie…”
“Don’t start with the hair, Michael. Especially not with that hair of yours. What in hell do you do to get it to look like that? Stick your tongue in a light bulb socket and turn on the switch?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair, Blondie.”
“Nothing wrong if you are going to hide antennae or something in it I guess.”
“Now quit with the alien cracks already…and calm down,” he said, trying to calm her down by putting his hand softly on her forearm, it did not have the desired effect. She commenced to slap and push on him, and he retreated seeking the relative safety of the announcer’s booth at the top of the grandstand. She was still screaming at him as she followed him in, slamming the door to trap him inside. The sounds of fighting grew steadily louder, than subsided.
“I think we better go break them up,” said Isabel.
“Uh-uh…not me.” Said Alex.
“Well I’M going to, if you won’t.”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
“I can’t let her beat on Michael, and you know he won’t fight back…she’s a girl,” said Isabel.
Alex appeared unconvinced. Finally in frustration, she went to the door, opened it and stepped inside.
Five seconds later, Isabel was sitting next to Alex on the bleachers, her eyes wide, staring off into the distance.
“I don’t think I was old enough to see that..,” she said.
“They do appear to have a strange relationship,” said Alex. “Are you like that with the guys you date?”
“Of course not. I don’t even LIKE the guys I date.”
“Well why do you date them then?”
“Oh, part of the cover for the secret, I guess. And because that’s what you do when you re an Ice Princess. Heck, they aren’t even really my type.”
“What is your type?”
“Well,” she replied, suddenly thinking about waking up this morning with her head on his shoulder, “..a lot like you I guess. Alex..would you like to come to dinner tonight….we’re having meatloaf.”
“Why sure Isabel. Are you sure your parents won’t mind.”
“My mom suggested it, actually. She says she’d like to get to know you better.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you made a good impression with the e-mails or something.”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Ok,” she said, “It’s a date. But we better get to class now.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried off.
1:05 PM Fourth Period English Class, West Roswell High School, Roswell NM
‘Gee, I wonder if I should have asked him before I kissed him. The school policy says that if I didn’t, it’s sexual harassment. I sure hope he didn’t mind.’
1:05 PM Fourth Period Band Class, West Roswell High School, Roswell NM
“Taylor?”
“Here”
“Travis?”
“Present”
“Vincent?”
“Yo!”
“Whitman?”
“Whitman…..?”
“Whitman…….???”
1:55 PM Announcer’s Booth, West Roswell High Stadium.
“I’m telling you, Michael, we’ve got to get to class. We’ve already missed fourth period.”
“OK, but this fight isn’t over yet.”
“Alright, I’ll take you on….out behind the baseball backstop…right after school.”
“You’re on…”
“Say Michael…what’s Alex doing just sitting there, staring off into space. “
“Nothing…just rubbing his cheek.”
“There’s got to be more to it than that.”
“Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Does not!”
“You’re real brave saying that out here, Michael. I’ll bet you don’t have the nerve to say it back in the announcers booth.”
“Do too…”
“Do not…”
“Xeno-technology?” he asked, barely managing to keep the derision out of his voice.
“That’s correct, Colonel Randolph, Xeno-technology,” replied Major General Edwards.
It was a strange situation, he thought. It was the most secure conference room in Washington DC, and there were only four of them in it. He had had taken a number of briefings in this room. But this briefing wasn’t for him, he was a simple spectator.
The one taking the briefing was a brand new Colonel, a man who’d put on his eagles less than two weeks previously. And the briefers were his vice, a Lieutenant General, and the commander of the Materiel Command, a full General like himself. Another four star General, the head of the Air Force Military Personnel Center, had already talked to the briefers, assuring them that this was going to be easy.
The Air Force Chief of Staff shook his head. You didn’t get to be Chief of Staff without learning how to read people, and Colonel Steve “Slammer” Randolph wasn’t buying. And he understood why.
Oh, Colonel Randolph knew what was at stake. If he didn’t take his next assignment, he would need to put in retirement paperwork. And since he hadn’t served two years in his present rank, he’d retire as a Lieutenant Colonel, at substantial loss of retirement pay. But that wasn’t going to be enough to get him to accept the job. That’s because Slammer Randolph was a fighter pilot.
The Chief of Staff was a fighter pilot too, and always would be….even though he hadn’t flown one as pilot-in-command for almost four years. So he knew what was going through the mind of Colonel Randolph, because he’d felt the same way the first time he’d been given an assignment as something other than a fighter pilot. Sure, it was “for the good of the Air Force,” but how many times in an officer’s career did he get to hear that? Right now Slammer Randolph was thinking that the world was pretty damn unfair.
The man had certainly served the Air Force in a manner that should have earned him command of a fighter wing. He’d been an excellent and aggressive squadron commander, and the Colonel’s Board had given him their highest recommendation to command a wing. So it must have been frustrating as hell, over the last two weeks, as announcements were made of the appointment of new Wing Commanders…to see all of his contemporaries be named….all the wings go to other people, some clearly less qualified than Slammer.
Most of the people, hearing his nickname, would have assumed that Slammer was a hard charging assertive guy,…and he was. But the Chief of Staff knew that’s not how he got the nickname. Tactical call-signs are given by your squadron mates, sometimes as a joke, sometimes because of a foulup you made, sometimes because of something exceptional you did. Fighter pilots played a lot of games like that.
Slammer had gotten his nickname as a young Lieutenant, barely out of his training, when his unit had deployed to Desert Storm. He’d been flying the Viper….the F-16, and was the junior man in his squadron. It’d been the first night of the war, and his mission had been to drop bombs on anti-aircraft sites. He’d been paired with his squadron commander who had been hit and bailed out. He’d marked the mans position and at that point should have taken off for his base. But he hadn’t because someone else had fouled up bad.
It was another fighter pilot, a brand new general who had been given his first job out of the fighter cockpit, and he’d been bitter about it too. As a mission commander for an AWACS aircraft, Airborne Warning and Control System, he should have been directing the battle from 200 miles away. But the guy was inexperienced, arrogant, and senior in rank….not good qualities to have in a war. He’d ordered the unarmed AWACS way too close to the battle and ordered the combat air patrol protecting it even closer. It had seemed to the senior officer, somewhat of a turkey shoot, and he resented watching it rather than being part of it.
Clausewitz called it ‘the fog of war,’ the unpredictability that goes with any large operation. The airbase wasn’t supposed to have any fighters, but apparently a MiG-25 Foxbat had been placed there after the last reconnaissance satellite had passed over, and up it came….between the AWACS and its escort. Oh sure, the CAP guys turned, but they were way behind, and a Foxbat goes Mach 2.2. The AWACS had turned too, but it’s top speed was Mach 0.95. No way was it getting away. It would take a miracle. But that miracle had happened.
The young Lieutenant had come off his last target and heard the distress call. He shouldn’t have had the AIM-120 air-to-air missile on his aircraft at all, but he did because of a late change in the mission. So even though out of position and not really having been checked out in that mission at all, he’d dropped his external fuel tanks so he could go supersonic and lit the burner. The AIM-120, known to the fighter jocks as’ the slammer, was a radar missile and the large AWACS had 20 times the radar signature of the Foxbat. Lt. Randolph had fired from extreme range, while supersonic and the Chief of Staff knew that many people wouldn’t have done that. Because the smart money was that the AIM 120 would go for the big old AWACS. And while no one would have given the kid a bad time about not taking an impossible shot, they would have crucified him if the missile had hit the friendly aircraft. And that was the likeliest possibility by far.
But it hadn’t. The young Lieutenant had done the only thing possible that would have given the crew of the AWACS a chance, putting his own career on the line to save those men from a foul-up he had nothing to do with. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, but he got the MiG.
And that’s why the Chief of Staff had wanted the newly minted Colonel for this job, because he had done the right thing…not necessarily the smart thing, if he was looking to further his career. He’d been put in for a Silver Star, and deserved it…but someone had decided junior officers could only be awarded Silver Stars posthumously, so it was a bronze star ribbon he wore on his chest today. But it was obvious to the Chief of Staff, just reading the body language, that the man was going to turn down the job.
“Do you have any other questions, Colonel Randolph?” General Edwards asked.
“No sir.”
Edwards looked at the Chief of Staff. He was no dummy either. He knew the man hadn’t bought it.
“Gentlemen..” said the Chief of Staff, “I’d appreciate it if you’d go have a cup of coffee. I’d like to have a word with the Colonel in private.”
Slammer Randolph looked up at the Chief of Staff. ‘Here comes the hard-sell,’ he thought.
“Slammer, I’d like to have a little talk with you…not General to Colonel, but just fighter pilot to fighter pilot.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I know you are pissed…I was too when I got my first assignment out of the cockpit. You paid your dues, you did well, you should have had a fighter wing. I’m the one who stopped that from happening, and you deserve to know why.
We’ve got a problem and it’s a problem that’s been festering for quite awhile. But we’ve had some close calls recently, and we can’t let it go on any longer. The President tasked the SecDef and the SecDef tasked the Joint Chiefs and they tasked me and now I’m tasking you. This is an important assignment…even though I know you don’t believe that. Some of our real technological edges come out of our research laboratories…stealth…engines capable of supersonic cruise….the Airborne Laser…just to name a few. And this laboratory in particular has important work.”
“Sir, I don’t know anything about laboratories…or research. I’m a fighter pilot.”
“I picked you because I think you use common sense…and can make good decisions. Ever work with scientists, son? A lot of time they can’t do either.
They may be bright as can be, but they lack common sense…and sometimes make completely off the wall decisions. Commanding a laboratory…well, it’s a lot like herding cats. But it needs to be done, and it hasn’t been done well there for a long, long time.
Maybe you are familiar with the Department of Energy lab at Sandia….where they make the nukes. The problems they are having with people ignoring security regulations, losing computers full of nuclear secrets, well….. ,they’ve been in all the newspapers.
The Air Force has its own problem…a worse one, out at Groom Lake. It’s our biggest ‘black’ facility….we don’t even officially admit that it exists and we have two huge problems there.
The scientists there aren’t bad, most of them….but they are undisciplined, and some of them are frankly very questionable in their judgment. They’ve been tolerated, some for decades, because they are irreplaceable…or think they are. We’ve had some serious breaches of safety rules…..almost killed a few people…that has to stop. But even worse are the few who, …at least in my opinion, ARE bad.
The remains of that saucer got moved there in 1947, along with the bodies of the aliens that were recovered. Also the one alien who survived for a time. Do you know who was doing our space work in 1947, son?”
It had been awhile since anyone had called Rammer son, but in the military you always have only the two choices when talking to a General. On this occasion it was, “No sir.”
I want you to read up on Operation Paperclip, son. We were trying to beat the Russians, that was the priority. In a just world, some of those scientists would have been tried as war criminals. As for the alien, I’ve got no clue if he was a threat to us or not, but what they did to him….well, most of them had gotten used to human guinea pigs back in Germany. If they could do that to those people, why would they care about an alien? Now most of those people are long gone, but many of the senior people working today…well, they trained under them. They are somewhat ruthless, bitter that the alien took his secrets with him to the grave…or at least to the tank of formaldehyde he’s floating in. And they are doing stupid things….taking stupid risks, trying to make that technology work.
No I know, you can put in your retirement papers today and even if you retire as a Lieutenant Colonel, be making twice what the Air Force pays you in a couple of months, flying a passenger plane for one of the airlines, but I’ll tell you what, son. Take this job, and do it well, just for this one year, and I’ll get you the fighter wing of your choice. Do it well for three years, and I’ll do my best to see that you make a star, and that you get an air division command in fighters. Try it for a year and want out…well, I’ll see that you retire at your full rank. That’s my offer. Think it over, and give me your answer tomorrow morning.
You can go, son.”
“Yes sir.”
He watched Slammer leave. The fighter community wasn’t all that large, but it was spread around the world. He’d only crossed paths with him once before,and then only heard him over the radio. He would always remember that night, knowing he’d made a mistake, watching on the screen as the Foxbat closed on them, looking at the radar operators and controllers in the cabin of the AWACS trying to do their jobs, knowing his stupidity had killed them all. Slammer had been been Viper 23 that night, and the call had been, “Viper-23, slammer on the MiG going South at 22,000 feet….Splash one Foxbat.”
He hoped Slammer would take the job. He was just what Area 51 needed.
12:10 The bleachers behind West Roswell High School, Roswell New Mexico
The area was empty, except for the four teenagers sitting up in the stands.
“You think they were doing WHAT?”
“I think that Max and Liz might have been having sex…..”
“I can’t believe this…You two got her mixed up in this ‘find your world crap’ and she got raped?”
“I didn’t say that, Maria. I said that I thought her and Max might have been sort of overcome by whatever was causing the flashes…and that they might have had sex,” said Isabel.
“And how is that different from rape…or at least, date-rape…only instead of using a drug or something you use your alien hocus-pocus.”
“Maria, we don’t know it’s anything like that. For all we know, it might have nothing to do with our powers at all…she might have just decided…well, it was time for them.”
“Don’t give me that crap, Michael. I have known Liz since second grade. Now me, maybe. But she has always planned for the white dress, big ceremony surrounded by friends and family…..no way is she going to go off and hop in bed with a boyfriend…even Max. Not without some hocus-pocus or something going on.”
“Now Maria..”
“Don’t you ‘Now Maria,’ me, Michael. Don’t you EVER ‘Now Maria’ me…! What you and Isabel did was despicable. I don’t believe you even have the nerve to show up around Alex and me, her best friends. I ought to slap you from here to next week…”
“Now Blondie…”
“Don’t start with the hair, Michael. Especially not with that hair of yours. What in hell do you do to get it to look like that? Stick your tongue in a light bulb socket and turn on the switch?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hair, Blondie.”
“Nothing wrong if you are going to hide antennae or something in it I guess.”
“Now quit with the alien cracks already…and calm down,” he said, trying to calm her down by putting his hand softly on her forearm, it did not have the desired effect. She commenced to slap and push on him, and he retreated seeking the relative safety of the announcer’s booth at the top of the grandstand. She was still screaming at him as she followed him in, slamming the door to trap him inside. The sounds of fighting grew steadily louder, than subsided.
“I think we better go break them up,” said Isabel.
“Uh-uh…not me.” Said Alex.
“Well I’M going to, if you won’t.”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
“I can’t let her beat on Michael, and you know he won’t fight back…she’s a girl,” said Isabel.
Alex appeared unconvinced. Finally in frustration, she went to the door, opened it and stepped inside.
Five seconds later, Isabel was sitting next to Alex on the bleachers, her eyes wide, staring off into the distance.
“I don’t think I was old enough to see that..,” she said.
“They do appear to have a strange relationship,” said Alex. “Are you like that with the guys you date?”
“Of course not. I don’t even LIKE the guys I date.”
“Well why do you date them then?”
“Oh, part of the cover for the secret, I guess. And because that’s what you do when you re an Ice Princess. Heck, they aren’t even really my type.”
“What is your type?”
“Well,” she replied, suddenly thinking about waking up this morning with her head on his shoulder, “..a lot like you I guess. Alex..would you like to come to dinner tonight….we’re having meatloaf.”
“Why sure Isabel. Are you sure your parents won’t mind.”
“My mom suggested it, actually. She says she’d like to get to know you better.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe you made a good impression with the e-mails or something.”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Ok,” she said, “It’s a date. But we better get to class now.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried off.
1:05 PM Fourth Period English Class, West Roswell High School, Roswell NM
‘Gee, I wonder if I should have asked him before I kissed him. The school policy says that if I didn’t, it’s sexual harassment. I sure hope he didn’t mind.’
1:05 PM Fourth Period Band Class, West Roswell High School, Roswell NM
“Taylor?”
“Here”
“Travis?”
“Present”
“Vincent?”
“Yo!”
“Whitman?”
“Whitman…..?”
“Whitman…….???”
1:55 PM Announcer’s Booth, West Roswell High Stadium.
“I’m telling you, Michael, we’ve got to get to class. We’ve already missed fourth period.”
“OK, but this fight isn’t over yet.”
“Alright, I’ll take you on….out behind the baseball backstop…right after school.”
“You’re on…”
“Say Michael…what’s Alex doing just sitting there, staring off into space. “
“Nothing…just rubbing his cheek.”
“There’s got to be more to it than that.”
“Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Does not!”
“You’re real brave saying that out here, Michael. I’ll bet you don’t have the nerve to say it back in the announcers booth.”
“Do too…”
“Do not…”
6:30 PM The Evans Residence Roswell, New Mexico
“Would you care for some more meatloaf, Alex?” asked Philip Evans.
“Thank you Mr. Evans. Mrs. Evans, this is delicious….it’s really the best meat loaf I’ve ever had.”
Philip looked at his wife of many years and wondered what was going on with her, but automatically he covered for her apparent forgetting about manners and hospitality that was leading her to stare at the boy in silence. “Well we are glad you like it, Alex. I’ve always thought that Diane’s meatloaf was excellent, …as opposed to our children who seem to insist upon drowning it in Tabasco sauce..” and as quick as that he knew…THAT was the problem. Max not being at the table. It was like the four of them were there, the same as always, but not really, because Alex wasn’t Max. He knew that his wife was still sobbing herself to sleep, and now it was almost like Alex being there was bringing Max’s absence home to her all the more.
He looked at his daughter…she’d been blushing a lot tonight. No doubt embarrassed by the interrogation Diane had been giving her friend. This whole thing with Max and that Liz-girl had hit Diane so hard, she apparently was worried about this innocuous young man sitting at their table.
Philip had worried a lot about Isabel and her dating, more so at first then recently though. She seemed to date an endless array of the pretty people of West Roswell High, many of them obviously testosterone charged athletes who probably had their pick of girls, and it had terrified him at first that his poor defenseless daughter was dating them. But she seemed to be able to handle them, and fortunately never got the least serious with any of them. As a matter of fact, this gentle young man seemed to be about the least threatening and most ….well…genuine young man Isabel had ever interacted with, excepting Michael who might as well be her brother.
“So Isabel, are you two dating?”
“Father….!” Said Isabel, blushing. “You don’t date until…the guy asks you out…”
Suddenly it was Alex’s turn to blush. “Well, would you like to go to the Crashdown after dinner for a Sundae?”
“Gee Alex, that’ll be great.”
Diane Evans eyes got wide and she shook her head in amazement.
Philip was already freaked out about Max and Liz, she couldn’t add to his worries. She’d have to watch them herself..monitor it so it didn’t get out of hand…like it had with Max and Liz.
‘But what’s this generation coming to?’ she asked herself. ‘Not dating, but, but ……but just napping???’
“Would you care for some more meatloaf, Alex?” asked Philip Evans.
“Thank you Mr. Evans. Mrs. Evans, this is delicious….it’s really the best meat loaf I’ve ever had.”
Philip looked at his wife of many years and wondered what was going on with her, but automatically he covered for her apparent forgetting about manners and hospitality that was leading her to stare at the boy in silence. “Well we are glad you like it, Alex. I’ve always thought that Diane’s meatloaf was excellent, …as opposed to our children who seem to insist upon drowning it in Tabasco sauce..” and as quick as that he knew…THAT was the problem. Max not being at the table. It was like the four of them were there, the same as always, but not really, because Alex wasn’t Max. He knew that his wife was still sobbing herself to sleep, and now it was almost like Alex being there was bringing Max’s absence home to her all the more.
He looked at his daughter…she’d been blushing a lot tonight. No doubt embarrassed by the interrogation Diane had been giving her friend. This whole thing with Max and that Liz-girl had hit Diane so hard, she apparently was worried about this innocuous young man sitting at their table.
Philip had worried a lot about Isabel and her dating, more so at first then recently though. She seemed to date an endless array of the pretty people of West Roswell High, many of them obviously testosterone charged athletes who probably had their pick of girls, and it had terrified him at first that his poor defenseless daughter was dating them. But she seemed to be able to handle them, and fortunately never got the least serious with any of them. As a matter of fact, this gentle young man seemed to be about the least threatening and most ….well…genuine young man Isabel had ever interacted with, excepting Michael who might as well be her brother.
“So Isabel, are you two dating?”
“Father….!” Said Isabel, blushing. “You don’t date until…the guy asks you out…”
Suddenly it was Alex’s turn to blush. “Well, would you like to go to the Crashdown after dinner for a Sundae?”
“Gee Alex, that’ll be great.”
Diane Evans eyes got wide and she shook her head in amazement.
Philip was already freaked out about Max and Liz, she couldn’t add to his worries. She’d have to watch them herself..monitor it so it didn’t get out of hand…like it had with Max and Liz.
‘But what’s this generation coming to?’ she asked herself. ‘Not dating, but, but ……but just napping???’