jEsSaH*-Max is having some very conflicted feelings here. Give him a little time.
Kristin-Thanks so much. I hope you enjoy the new part!
Sara-That smell does sort of hit you in the face when you walk in, doesn't it?
I'm glad you're enjoying it!
keepsmiling-I'm glad you like it. I couldn't resist--had to throw in our little inside joke.
Carrie-Thanks-I hope you enjoy today's chapter.
abbs007-Hope you like it!
Jan-Max is definitely going to have a little inner struggle with all this.
Kris-Glad you're enjoying it!
Eve-No, he's not wanting her to leave--just wondering what her intentions are.
Natalie-Oh, they will--just give it time.
After starting the charcoal for the fire downstairs, Max retrieved the rest of the groceries from the jeep and set them on the kitchen counter, smiling at Liz’s two large boxes of cereal that he put away in the cabinet. He laid out her trashy magazines on the table so she could find them later. Plucking a fork from the drawer, he punched a few holes in the two baking potatoes and popped them in the microwave to make sure they were cooked through before wrapping them in foil and putting them on the grill. He dug through his drawer to find his corkscrew and opened the bottle of red he had just purchased. “So do you want a glass of wine while we wait for the charcoal?” Max called out.
“Sure,” Liz shouted from the hallway as she went to put away the clothes she had bought in her brother’s room. As she came back into the kitchen, Max handed her a glass of wine while he marinated the steaks in a shallow pan.
Picking up his glass, he met hers with a soft clink, “To the graduate,” he smiled as Liz blushed and raised her eyebrows.
“Thanks,” she replied before turning back to the living room and curling up on the couch with her feet tucked under her.
Max sat down on the cushion next to her, his wine glass in hand.
“Liz, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your graduation. I really wanted to, you know. Or I could’ve run The Crash for your dad and Michael so they could’ve gone,” Max felt so sorry that Liz had no one there for her.
Liz scoffed lightly, “You know I would’ve rather had you there, than Dad or Michael,” Liz sighed. “It’s fine—don’t worry about it, Max. After three years, you get kinda’ used to people not being around, you know? Dad’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, and Michael’s not much better. They should’ve named him Jeff Junior—far less complicated that way,” Liz laughed lightly.
Flashback-Twelve years ago
“Michael! Michael!” Liz had shouted herself hoarse from the top of the tall oak in the park, hoping to draw her brother’s attention away from his football game with his friends. She had climbed the tree, wanting to get a better view of her brother’s game and also as a means to ‘stay out of his way’ as she had been instructed. Liz, however, had climbed just a little too high this afternoon. When the strong summer winds picked up, the branches of the oak began to sway and toss.
As they lined up for the next play, Max, Michael and their friends assumed their usual positions when Max’s attention was drawn to the tall oak and the drifting sounds that were emanating from that direction.
“Michael,” Max nudged his best friend and jerked his thumb away from the field. “Liz is calling for you. I think she’s stuck,” He put his hand to his forehead to get a better look at the 6-year-old at the top of the oak.
“She climbed up—she can figure out a way down,” Michael scoffed as he bent to hike the ball, though, as he looked through his legs, Max was nowhere to be found.
Nine-year-old Max made quick work of climbing the tree at the edge of the park. As he neared the top fork, he called to a very frightened Lizzie Parker.
“Liz—Liz, “Max’s insistent voice caused Liz to jerk around in surprise, gripping the surrounding limbs with white knuckles. “Lizzie, I’m going to help you down, ok?” Max looked into her tear-stained face, knowing that she was truly frightened. “Liz, you’re going to need to let go with your right hand and take mine,” A young Max held out his left hand, waiting patiently.
“Max , I can’t let go. I’m too far up,” Liz sobbed and shook her head vehemently.
“Ok, hang on, Liz, let me see what I can do,” Max tried to work further up the tottering branch, a little afraid of its ability to hold them both. As he climbed further toward the top, the wind blew strongly again, causing the branches to sway fiercely. Max was a little unsure of his own safety at the moment, much less Liz’s. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Max pushed himself up, just inches from Liz. Though the braches began to wave crazily in the wind from the incoming storm, Max reached out to grab Liz around the waist, holding her tightly to his body.
She was panting heavily against the snugness of Max’s arm, Max knowing that he needed to keep Liz calm if they were to make the descent safely.
“Ok, Liz, I’m going to get us down, ok? But you need to trust me,” Max looked into Liz’s red-rimmed eyes. She could only nod her head in response.
Keeping her body sandwiched between himself and the trunk, Max eased them down. When she finally landed on solid ground, she sobbed into Max’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her—all the pent-up fear of falling from the tree, of her brother ignoring her cries for help—all coming out in heaving sobs.
Max walked Liz back home to her thankful mother, though it would be two days before he would speak to Michael again.
Present-
The microwave bell startled the pair out of the shared memory. Max downed the last of his wine with Liz doing the same as they rose to head into the kitchen.
“If you’ll grab the potatoes, I’ll get the steaks and head downstairs,” Max pointed to the drawer where Liz could find the foil for the potatoes. After tearing off two pieces, Liz quickly rolled the potatoes into their shiny coverings, put them in a dish and held the door open for Max who was trying to avoid sloshing the marinade onto the floor.
Heading down the cement stairs, they circled round to the complex courtyard where their charcoal was glowing red and gray.
Max speared the meat with the bar-b-que fork and laid it down on the sizzling grill. He waved Liz toward him with her bowl and popped the two potatoes in the coals to keep cooking. Sitting the empty plate and large fork on a picnic table, Max motioned for Liz to sit next to him on the wooden swing near the grill.
“So, back to your graduation,” Max reminded, “At least your friends were there, right?” Max wasn’t sure whom he trying to make feel better, Liz or himself.
“Well, my roommate, Eileen and I were friends, and some of the girls on my hall were ok. Eileen’s going to Brown, and she wanted me to room with her again, but I told her that I would love to see her if she ever came to New Mexico, but I had no desire to live through another New England winter. Gray skies and slushy sidewalks were not for me,” Liz lightly joked. “You know, I had a few friends, but so many of those girls came from old money, I mean
really old money, so yeah, my dad owning an alien-themed restaurant in Roswell was not quite as impressive as one would hope,” Liz gave a little, self-deprecating laugh.
Max rose from the swing to turn the steaks on the grill, Liz steadying the wobbly chains with her hands. Turning his head to look at Liz, the smoke from the dropped grease smoking into his face, Max continued his inquiry about Liz’s time at Winnaman.
“So were there any guys on hand to kiss you goodbye? A broken heart left behind?”
“No, nothing like that. Winnaman was hell and gone from any place remotely interesting. We only left campus on an organized trip or with an approved guardian, so yeah, no dates to speak of.”
“God, not even a prom or anything?” Max shook his head in disbelief at the restrictions.
“Well, we had this social following the completion of our deportment classes--,”
“Deportment classes?” Max said with a look of confused disgust.
“Yeah, I know how to greet an ambassador and which fork to eat fish with,” Liz wryly joked. “But um, we danced in this very well-lit ballroom—the waltz, the foxtrot--,”
“The tango?” Max asked with a flourish.
“Oh, hell no!” Liz laughed. “We had to dance about six inches apart from each other and our partners were chosen for us according to height. So, of course,” Liz was laughing at the memory, “I was paired with this little shrimp of a guy, naturally, who could only discuss his hopes of inheriting his 80-year-old grandfather’s yacht. So, um,” Liz was shaking with laughter as she retold the tale, “That was my single date throughout my entire high school career. The most I learned about guys during high school was from the anatomical drawings in my biology book.”
Max groaned and shook his head at the obvious injustice. “I’m sorry, Liz, I hated that your dad sent you off like that,” he sighed as he lifted the meat from the grill and retrieved the potatoes from the coals. He nodded back toward the apartment as Liz grabbed the bowl of roasted potatoes while Max carried the juicy steaks. He continued their discussion as they walked back upstairs.
“I know it’s none of my business, and really, it’s a moot point now, but I thought your dad was such a bastard for sending you away to school, especially so soon after—,” Max looked away for a moment, not really intending to bring up Nancy’s death when they were having such a nice evening.
“It’s ok, Max,” Liz gently touched Max’s shoulder, indicating that she wasn’t upset that he had mentioned her mother. The warmth from her touch spread throughout Max, and he smiled back at her as he let her into the apartment.
Liz scavenged for some matches and lit the stubs of candles she found in the dining area and over the mantelpiece. Returning to the kitchen and disposing of the burnt match, she then poured them each another glass of the red Max had bought while Max plated the grilled food and pulled a couple of salad bowls from the cabinet. Liz handed Max his wine glass from which he took a sip as he gathered their silverware.
“Grab whatever dressing you want from the fridge,” Max indicated.
Liz opened the questionable-smelling refrigerator, recoiling a little from the odor.
“Ooh, sorry, I think your brother left some garlic chicken in there from last week. Just toss it out if you find it.”
“No problem,” Liz laughed as she found the offending take out container and threw it in the trash. Returning to the task at hand, Liz called out, “What kind of dressing do you want, Max?”
“Any of it’s fine—I’m easy,” Max responded. Liz had to bite her tongue to stifle a laugh.
“Ranch is ok, then?” Liz inquired as she sat the bottle on the countertop.
“Sure—oh and grab the toppings for the potatoes while you’re in there.”
Liz gathered up the butter, sour cream and shredded cheese, opening the packages after she moved them to the counter.
Max and Liz dressed their salads and potatoes, retrieved their wine glasses from the counter, grabbed silverware and napkins and took their plates to the cozy dining nook and started in on their steaks.
“Mmmm,” Liz groaned, startling Max as he looked up from cutting his steak. Though the moan sounded oddly sensual, it was obvious that Liz was enjoying her steak thoroughly, though Max was still a little flustered by the thoughts that came to mind.
“You grill an excellent steak, Max Evans,” Liz smiled as she popped her next bite into her mouth.
“Well, thank you—I’m glad you enjoy it,” Max smiled in return.
Putting her knife and fork against her plate, Liz picked up her wine glass, swirling the ruby-colored liquid in the bowl, “I never would have imagined that you and my brother had proper wine glasses,” Liz lightly teased as she took a sip.
“I think Michael bought those a couple of months ago at some yard sale—thought they might be useful in charming young women,” Max chuckled.
“So
has my brother been charming young women?” Liz asked incredulously.
“Well, not
here, but I think he’s seeing someone back in Roswell,” Max mixed his potato around and scooped up a bite onto his fork.
“Oh,
really!” Liz was slightly taken aback that any girl would put up with Michael’s surliness.
“That blonde waitress at the Crash—she started the end of last summer, I think?” Max scowled as he tried to remember.
“Maria?” Liz responded as she took another sip.
“Yeah, Maria—that’s it,” Max nodded as he took another bite of steak.
“She’s my age, isn’t she?” Liz asked, remembering that Maria had moved to Roswell toward the end of freshman year.
“Mmm-I think so,” Max took another drink from his glass, “Michael said something about her possibly moving here in August. She’s waiting to hear about a music scholarship or something.”
Liz nodded thoughtfully, but what she was really doing was stowing this useful tidbit away if she needed it later for ammunition against her meddling brother.
“So what about you, Max? Any hot, young girls drinking from your wine glasses?” Liz teased playfully.
“Liz, I think
you are the only hot, young girl to drink from that wine glass,” Max laughed, then blushed at his comment.
“Good to know,” Liz tried to play-off Max’s words, but was secretly pleased at the revelation.
“So, no nubile co-eds lurking about, huh?”
“Oh, six months ago I was dating this girl, Julie—marketing major or something. Anyway, she liked to party—a lot. And I need to work and study—a lot. So, one night she goes to a Sigma Chi party with her girlfriends, and before the party’s even over, I get a dozen photos sent to me of her making out with some random guy.”
“God, that sucks,” Liz gave Max a sympathetic smile.
“Yeah, you know, next day, she come over as says she’s sorry, but I don’t need that kind of crap. I had always been very *ahem* careful,” Max blushed at the admission, “But even so, after that I went to the campus clinic and had everything checked out, so to speak,” Max’s face was starting to burn, not only from the wine but also from the fact that he was discussing his sex life with Liz Parker.
“Well, that’s good—better safe than sorry,” Liz chuckled as she finished off her glass and looked down at her nearly empty plate and sighed, “I’m sorry she hurt you, Max.”
“Eh, I’m alright. I just wasn’t too keen on jumping into anything new right after that,” Max also finished his glass and sat it down. “Anyhow, old news,” he blew off the unpleasant memory and tossed his napkin onto his plate, “Ready for dessert?”
“Sure—strawberries, chocolate and champagne—can’t wait,” Liz gave a little wiggle as she rose to help clear the table.
“Why don’t you find us some small plates and I’ll open the champagne,” Max asked as he pulled down two glasses from the cabinet.
“Champagne glasses, too, huh?” Liz cooed.
“Same garage sale,” Max laughed. He reached into the refrigerator where the champagne had been chilling, tore off the foil and began to twist the bulbous end of the cork.
Turning around after retrieving the dessert plates, Liz saw Max struggling with the bottle, “Do you need any help?” she asked as she faced him.
“No,” Max grunted as he gripped the bottle and continued to turn the cork, “I think I’ve got it,” red-faced, Max gave the bottle one last turn as the cork finally popped, sending a foamy spray onto Liz’s neck and chest.
“Oh,” Liz was taken by surprise as the cold liquid hit her skin. Max grabbed a clean dish towel and rushed to her aid.
“Liz, I am so sorry,” Max began to pat dry her skin but was mesmerized by the little golden trickles that began to run down her neck and chest, thinking to himself that he would like nothing better than to lick her clean. Noting that his shorts were getting a bit too tight for comfort, he shook away the thought as inappropriate, “Here,” he gave a couple more stilted pats, “here’s a towel.”
Liz reached up and gently took the towel from his hand, “I’m fine—no need to worry. I shouldn’t have been standing right in front of you when you were opening the bottle,” she pulled the towel away, sufficiently dry. “See, all better. Now let’s have some champagne and our wonderfully, decadent pastries,” she waggled her eyebrows as she picked up two forks and the small plates, making her way into the living room. “Couch, ok?”
“I was going to suggest it,” Max bowed her forward as he followed with the filled glasses. Liz placed Max’s plate on the coffee table and then took her champagne from Max.
“Now for a proper toast with champagne,” Max cleared his throat dramatically, “Congratulations,” he smiled and touched his glass to Liz’s, her eyes glittering with the wine and the candles glowing in the darkening room.
“Thank you,” she smiled and took a long sip before taking a bite of her flaky pastry. Her eyes closed again in pleasure as the tastes of champagne, dark chocolate and strawberry swirled in her mouth. “We chose well,” she smiled, fully approving of the dessert they had chosen from the case.
“Yes, we did,” Max grinned, enjoying watching Liz in this blissful moment. The question of what she would look like in other sorts of blissful moments crossed his mind though he censored himself shortly after.
“I haven’t asked,” Liz swallowed, “How is your sister doing?”
“She and Alex are doing well. He’s in R and D for some company in Silicon Valley. Izzy’s doing some part-time consulting work for an advertising agency. They had their second child a couple of months ago—a baby boy—Jacob Ryan—‘Jake’,” Max nodded. He has Alex’s blue eyes and my ears,” Max laughed and groaned, “Izzy blames me personally,” Max smiled.
“Awww, I think your ears are cute,” Liz reached over to tickle Max behind the ear, though his hair, longer now than when he was in high school, covered them up. Max writhed and laughed in response before Liz stopped her little torture. “That is so cool, though, you’re ‘Uncle Max’ now, huh?”
“Yeah,” Max grinned, “The two-year-old, Jordan, is hell with a whiffle ball and plastic bat—brown eyes and blonde hair like Iz, but you can already tell he’ll be lanky like his dad,” Max paused to take another bite. “But Izzy keeps saying she wants to try for a girl, and I guess Alex is willing to oblige,” Max raised his eyebrows and laughed.
“What about you, Liz, any big plans for the future?” Max finished up his last bite of dessert and sat the plate back onto the coffee table.
“Well apart from the ceremonial burning of the wool skirt and sensible shoes—don’t think I’ve forgotten about that--,”
“I promise—we’ll take them out to the desert, make a campfire—fewer complaints to the landlord that way,” Max teased. “You never know, though, you might want them someday—costume party, wild fantasy weekend…”
Liz laughed at Max’s joke, then took a breath, “Um, big plans--molecular biology, most likely,” Liz nodded, swallowing the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I haven’t decided for certain where yet. I’ve got several options—UNM’s a distinct possibility,” Liz smiled.
“Well, if you decide on UNM, I could help you pick your freshman schedule. Your entry-level classes would probably be pretty similar to mine,” Max offered, considering that with his pre-med major, the classes he had as a freshman would coincide with what Liz might be taking.
“That would be great,” Liz beamed, satisfied that she was making excellent progress in convincing Max Evans that she was no longer the little girl he remembered, but a confident young woman ready to explore the pleasures of the adult world.
At that very moment, Max’s phone began vibrating against the coffee table where he had laid it down earlier.
“Hang on to that thought,” Max held up his finger as he flipped open his cell.
“Hey man, how’s life in Roswell?...Yeah?...Maria still hasn’t kicked your sorry ass to the curb, huh?”
Liz’s heart started to race. She started glancing around the room—nervously looking away from Max—trying to act calm and collected when she was anything but.
“No, your Metallica tickets haven’t come in the mail yet…I promise, as soon as they arrive I will forward them to you…I won’t forget, Michael.
“Oh, you’ll never guess who dropped by today--,” Max smiled up at Liz and was surprised to see a look of fear in her eyes.
“No—don’t tell him—please,” Liz mouthed the words, the desperation evident in her words and in her face.
“Um…” Max stalled trying to come up with a believable story, “The crazy redhead from 42C—she was looking for you. Told her you’d left for the summer, but I don’t know if she believed me.” Max rapped softly on the coffee table in front of him, still looking into Liz’s unnerved eyes, “Dude, I’d better go, I think she’s at the door again…I’ll talk to you later…K..bye,” Max flipped the phone shut, never taking his eyes off Liz’s face that went from panicked to relieved when she was sure her brother had accepted the lie Max had fed him, to anxious when she realized she would now have to explain the real reason for her sudden appearance to Max.
A thousand thoughts raced through Max’s mind, hundreds of possible scenarios that all tended to end with Michael beating the shit out of him for not telling him that his kid sister had shown up on their doorstep. As a teary-eyed Liz tried to look away, tried to conceal her embarrassment and apprehension, Max brought his finger to her chin and slowly turned it to face him.
“Tell me why you’re really here, Liz.”
