Little Cloud/Apples Eye (M/L M/M,Mature,AU) Complete 21/7/06

[Oz]

Title: Little Cloud / The Apple's Eye

Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. The Whitlams songs belong to Tim Freedman, The Whitlams, Black Yak Records and Warner Music Australia. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.

Couples/Category: M/L M/M, AU

Rating: Mature (substance abuse and suicide themes)

Summary: Max and Michael are both dealing with the death of Isabel. Will they find life is still worth living for?

Author's Note: This is a little challenge I set for myself. I have been listening to the new CD from 'The Whitlams' (great Australian Band), non-stop since it was released a couple of weeks ago. So with that kind of obsessive compulsive behaviour it follows that I would come an idea for a fic!

So here's the deal - as the CD is a two-disc set, the first disc will be about Max and Liz, and the second disc will be about Michael and Maria. I'll post alternate chapters from each disc so there's something for everyone. Oh, and I've replaced Roswell with Sydney, just so if fits the lyrics better.

The first couple of chapters are just setting the scene, so they are a little shorter, but hopefully it will build up towards the end (and we might even get some dialogue!)

And if anyone wants to read ahead, you can check out the lyrics on http://www.thewhitlams.com (or better yet buy the entire back catalogue of their CD's There - that's my bit done for the Australian music industry!)


DISC ONE - LITTLE CLOUD


Been Away Too Long

Everything looks strange to me like a recurring dream
I think I know what’s coming ‘til it turns out wrong
I’ve been away, away too long

I can’t change where I’ve been the bad I’ve done and seen
But my heart has a home and it got here on it’s own
I’ve been away, away too long

I’ve been away too long
Through a doorway in the night towards the sound of cheering
I’ll be gone at a minute to 12
You don’t want to have to see me turn into myself
I’ve been away too long

There’s a warmth that I miss familiar like a kiss
But the girls had no name and the singer no song
I’ve been away, away too long

I’ve been away too long
Through a doorway in the night towards the sound of cheering
I’ll be gone at a minute to 12
You don’t want to have to see me turn into myself
I’ve been away

When we burn the cane the mice all run
When the cane is burnt the mice all run
When the fire burnt out I came back home
When the cane was burnt I came back home

There’s no gate and no wall in my way at all
And if Janis died for my sins even I can start again
I’ve been away too long

I’ve been away too long
Through a doorway in the night towards the sound of cheering
I’ll be gone at a minute to 12
You don’t want to have to see me turn into myself

I’ve been away too long



He thought he knew what he was doing by leaving Sydney. The city had been suffocating him since the death of his sister. Every landmark, every street, every corner reminded him of Isabel. They were twins, and without her he felt as if his soul had been cut in half. He was no longer whole. No matter what he did, he could fill the emptiness he felt inside. The only time he came close was when he was drunk – at least then he could forget, for the briefest of moments, that he had a sister once.

In a moment of clarity, somewhere in between his last hangover and his next drink, he decided that he needed to leave. He needed to go to a place where he wasn’t reminded of her every single second of every single day. He didn’t want to picture her swimming in the beach pool at Bondi, behind the counter at the local fish and chip shop, jogging along the cliffs to Coogee. And he definitely didn’t want to picture her lying next to him on the sand, looking up at the night sky, pointing out the constellations – one of her favourite pastimes.

Now that she was gone, the streets where they spent their childhood seemed bare, as though they were missing the only thing that had ever made them special in the first place. He had left Bondi years ago when he started university, but somehow, every weekend since her death, he found himself walking up and down the beach, expecting any moment to see her walking out of the sea. When he realised, once again, that she wasn’t coming back, he made his way back into town to the local bar, to drown his sorrows, and try to forget - again.

He knew he needed to clean himself up and try and survive here without her. It’s what she would have wanted. And he could see, if he didn’t do something soon, he would be joining her far too soon.

So he deferred his university degree for a year and took a 24 hour flight to New York. Probably not the best place to go if you are trying to find the quiet life, but it was where Isabel’s husband had fled after her death. Maybe, together, they could see their way through to the other side of their grief.

Max, Michael and Isabel had all been best friends ever since they could remember. It was only natural that Michael and Isabel would eventually pair up. They were married when they had barely graduated high school. Two years later she was diagnosed with cancer. She was told she had a year to live if she was lucky. She wasn’t. They had six months to say goodbye.

That was a year ago. Since then, Max had spent more time drunk than he had sober. And apparently the memory of his sister did not fade with the change of location.

Being with Michael wasn’t the best influence on Max, as they would usually end each day with a bottle of scotch, or two, between them, verbalising their grief until there wasn’t anything else they could say. Max knew that Michael was taking it hard, and was withdrawing into himself, but Max really didn’t know what he could say to bring him back, when Max felt like he was dying too.

Max began to spend more and more time in bars, and less time with Michael. Michael was a miserable drunk and had started the habit of locking himself away in his room for days at a time. So Max preferred to spend his nights in bars with strangers, than with his best friend. Strangers didn’t talk about the past, and didn’t need him to make them feel better when he was feeling depressed himself. They cheered when he walked through the door, happy to see him each night, content to share the midnight hours with him, no matter what mood he was in. All he had to do was shout a round every once in a while, and they were his friends for life.

So every night, from 12 until dawn, he was in a bar somewhere downtown, only really feeling like himself when he had a drink in his hand. Every other minute of the day he felt like an impostor, just going through the motions until the clock struck midnight again.

Max was a loud drunk, and a flirtatious one. After a couple of beers he was anyone’s. And there had been quite a few of those ‘anyone’s’. He had never had a problem picking up women in the many bars he frequented. And he definitely didn’t have any problem leaving them the next morning before they could wake and ask for his number. Or before they could tell him their name.

But one night, when he was staring at the bottom of another empty glass, contemplating asking the barman for another, he thought for the first time of the home he had been trying to forget. He knew he was only biding his time before he would return. The need to run from his past was replaced with the desire to live to see his future. He had to live the life that his sister had been denied, otherwise what was the point of being here at all? Isabel wouldn’t want to see him wasting his life like this.

It had been a year since he had last seen the beach. Only in the dreams that plagued him in his restless sleeps, night after night, reminding him that he had a home once, and he had been happy. His hometown was calling him back, saying she hadn’t finished with him yet.

He packed his bags, and took a flight, feeling a gentle warmth in the depths of his heart, that he hadn’t felt since his sister’s death. He had a hope for the future, that perhaps he wasn’t cursed to be miserable for the rest of his life. There was nothing stopping him from living the life he was destined for, without the drink to numb the pain.

He had done a lot of things that he was ashamed of, but it was not too late. The past year he had spent shedding the grief and his anger at the world. But now, now he could start his life over, and find the happiness that his sister and best friend had been denied.

[Oz]

Thanks for the feedback everyone

Emz80m - I hope you don't live in Sydney because you'll soon realise that I know about as much as Sydney as I do about New York! (Ok, that's not quite true, at least I have been to Sydney a couple of times...)

tequathisy - glad to hear I have inspired at least one person to listen to The Whitlams...



DISC 2 - THE APPLE'S EYE

Beauty in Me

Cross-legged on the front lawn she’s had a bad pill
The lights of the city they can all go to hell
It’ll all come good if she can put in the hours

She wants to get into film but it’s gonna take years
She wishes she wrote songs like the ones that you hear
The boys are all 20 and they leave her on the edge

And she’s telling herself “They’ll see,
They’ll see the beauty in me
They’ll see the beauty it’s in my soul!”

“They’ll see the beauty in me
They’ll see the beauty in me
They’ll see the beauty it’s in my soul!”

Her lift is waiting she’ll be there soon
Rocking forwards and backwards eyeballing the moon
Unwired like a child of the rich

She’s pretty and long and part of the scene
Playing with her phone like it’s a rosary
Should get up and take them all on now

And she’s telling herself “They’ll see,
They’ll see the beauty in me
They’ll see the beauty it’s in my soul!”

“They’ll see the beauty in me
They’ll see the beauty in me
They’ll see the beauty it’s in my soul!”

First she can tell them why she’s so sad
Why this girl is crying
Of all the excuses that she’s ever had
Well she’s nearly 20 and so very old

Cross-legged on the front lawn she’s had a bad pill
The lights of the city they can all go to hell
It’ll all come good if she can put in the hours



Maria Deluca. The name was destined for greatness. At least, that’s what her mother had always told her.

‘Babe, with a name like that, you can do anything.’ Her mum would say. And Maria believed her. So at sixteen years of age, with her mother’s blessing, she packed a few of her possessions and caught a plane to Los Angeles to get her big break.

That was almost four years ago, and she was still waiting.

For her whole life she had dreamed of being a star. She wanted to be famous, see her name in lights, her photo splashed across magazines, and have the world adore her. Maybe then, he father would adore her too.

Her father had left when she was five years old and she hadn’t heard from him since. She used to try and convince herself that he was working as a spy; had taken the stand against the mafia and was in the witness protection program; that he was on a research station in Antarctica. But after fourteen years of waiting for him to ride up on his white horse and take her away, she now believed what her mother had tried to tell her so many years ago. In a drunken slur her mother had declared that he left because he never wanted children, that he didn’t want her.

Now, she didn’t care what her father thought. That dream had died, but her desire to be a star remained. She was nearly twenty years old and wondered why it hadn’t happened yet. By twenty she should have been a multi-million dollar actress. Instead she was a broke college student, still waiting for the call.

Since arriving in LA she had attended audition after audition. She had received a few small parts in television commercials, or as an extra on a movie set, but she had yet to get that big break that she longed for.

After yet another rejection, she had gone out to get drunk, attempting to forget her disappointment. Her friends had dragged her to yet another college party, and she had gone, wanting something to do to pass the time, and block out the fact that her dream was slipping through her fingers. Someone at the party had handed her a pill, and in her misery she had taken it. Now she found herself on the front lawn of the university, staring in a trance at the city lights in the distance. The city lights that should have been shinning just for her.

So many times she had thought about packing it all in, moving on with her life, back home to Sydney, and trying to be content to be ‘normal’. But she couldn’t do that. Being normal was as good as being dead to her, and she wouldn’t accept that. She was Maria Deluca, and she would show them all. She would pay her dues, do her time, and she would make it.

Her best friend back home had always encouraged her to keep going, and pursue her dreams, and she would stop at nothing until they all came true.

She wanted to be a movie star. She wanted to be a Broadway star. She wanted to be a singer. Not one of these teen-actresses-turn-pop-princesses who could barely hold a tune. She wrote songs from the heart, and dreamt for the day that one of her songs would be played on the radio. And she wanted to fall in love.

She was beautiful, she was talented, she had things to offer that others didn’t. If only she could get everyone else to see that too.

One of her friends was getting the car and coming to get her to take her home. Rocking forwards and backwards staring at the moon, she waited, itching to run, wanting to scream, wondering whether her dreams were just as far away.

She was beautiful, stunning, with a long, blonde head of curls, and a vivacious smile. She was the life of the party, the popular one with her friends. So why was it so hard to have just one director, one producer to believe that she was perfect enough to take a chance on?

She held her phone like a life line, like a saviour, waiting for it to ring to tell her she had the part, she had the record deal, she would be the star of the show. But her agent never returned her calls, and she wondered if he was working for her at all.

As if on queue the phone began buzzing in her hand. She jumped at first, dropping the phone in the process, scrambling to pick it up before it diverted to her message bank.

“He-hello?” She stuttered, still trying to organise her thoughts.

“Maria? It’s Liz. Just returning your call.” Liz said hesitantly, sensing Maria was not herself.

“Lizzy … I don’t feel too good …” Maria drawled.

“What’s wrong Chica?”

“I took something, and now … now the world won’t stop spinning.” Maria said, laying her head back on the grass.

“Are you home? Have you got someone looking after you?” Liz asked, wishing she wasn’t half a world away.

“No, I’m looking at the stars. They’re dancing.”

“You need to call someone and have them take you home.”

“They’re coming, they told me to wait here for them.” Maria replied, as she traced the constellations with the tips of her fingers. She never realised there was a constellation of a Big Mac.

“I didn’t get the part.” She continued, changing the subject.

“I know. I got your message. I’m so sorry Maria.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Maria questioned, voicing aloud her doubts.

“Nothing’s wrong with you Maria. You’ve just gotta keep at it. It’ll be your day soon. You’re still so young.”

“I’m almost 20. That’s like … 140 in dog years.”

“But you’re not a dog…”

“Okay, so it’s like 50 in movie-star years.”

“So then why don’t you go to New York and try out for Broadway? That was always your dream anyway.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe’s Maria. No more excuses. You have more talent in your little finger than most people have in their whole bodies. Go over there and show them what you can do.” Liz coached.

“You know what, I will.” Maria said, attempting to stand but her head was still spinning. “I will, after I sleep for a century.”

“Okay, so you’ll call me in the morning to let me know you’re okay?” Liz asked.

“Of course. Thanks Chica, you’re the best.”

“No problem. That’s what best friends are for. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Maria hung up the phone, and thought about what she had promised. She could go to New York, leave the lights of LA and follow her Broadway dream. She had only a term left of college, and then there was nothing stopping her.

She would get up right now and show them all what she could do. She would tell them why her tortured soul made her perfect for the part, why her years of rejection made her stronger, why she had so much life experience to bring to the table, and that she had so many good years left in her.

But as she sat on the lawn, staring at the lights of the city, she wondered when the world would stop spinning enough that she could get to her feet and start walking.

[Oz]

Two parts in two days - but this one's only short so I decided to post it anyway.

I struggled a bit with the lyrics of this one as it is partly about political opposition. In a couple of songs there is mention of rats and rodents, which is a reference to our current Prime Minister. Try fitting that into a story about Roswell!

DISC 1 - LITTLE CLOUD


White Horses

All the white horses are dragged below the sea
What goes on in there?
Some of them we’ll see rise again

All the white horses are dragged below the sea
Some of them will be born again

All winners are losers baby
Any loser will tell you that
Sleep right here and I’ll watch you bounce right back
At the bottom of their arc
They don’t feel like they’re moving up
All winners are losers baby that’s just that

All the white horses are dragged below the sea
Fighting for life in there
Some of them we’ll see rise again

All the white horses are dragged below the sea
That’s all we are my friend
Some of us will feel the air again

All winners are losers baby
Any loser will tell you that
Sleep right here and I’ll watch you bounce right back
At the bottom of their arc
They don’t feel like they’re moving up
All winners are losers baby that’s just that

I don’t feel good in a big crowd
Since the Rodent got back in
They used to move amongst us
And now we move amongst them

All the white horses are dragged below the sea
Some of them we’ll see rise again

All winners are losers baby
Any loser will tell you that
Sleep right here and I’ll watch you bounce right back


As Max waited in the departure lounge, he watched people coming and going. He saw travellers being greeted by their loved ones, as though they couldn’t breathe another minute if they didn’t wrap their arms around each other.

There wouldn’t be anyone waiting for him when he landed.

During the flight home he thought about the past year of his life. He had reached rock-bottom, and become a person he no longer recognised. Could he rise above his past? Could he go home and live a normal life without alcohol? Without one-night-stands? Without his sister?

He may have hit the bottom, but he could move forward and swim to the surface. He may be tired, gasping for air, wanting to feel the sun’s rays on his skin again, but he knew he could feel alive again. He had to.

He had had such high hopes for his life. He would graduate, meet a girl, fall in love, settle down, have 3 kids and a pet dog. He would be happy.

Instead he had no friends, no family, couldn’t remember what it felt like to wake up without a hangover, or make love when he wasn’t too numb to feel it. If only his old friends could see him now.

But they may have the wife, the house, the kids, and the steady job. They may be living the life he had always wanted, but he would show them that they didn’t have everything.

When he returned to Roswell, he would let every body see that he had more to offer. He had the desire of a man hanging on to the last thread. And he had hope. Hope that there is more to life than another empty glass, and a drunken stumble home.

But as he sat there, looking out the window at the lights below, making resolutions for the future, he considered telling the stewardess that he really hadn’t meant it when he asked her to promise not to bring him any alcohol during the flight, no matter how much he begged. He even considered ‘accidentally’ knocking over the glass of beer the persons beside him was drinking, just so he could lick the dregs off the floor.

With that thought in mind, he pulled the headphones on and closed his eyes, trying to drown out the voices in his head telling him that he was worthless, a loser, and would never be sober again.

[Oz]

Love the lyrics to this one. Depressing, but a little ray of sunshine at the end. Made for easy writing ...


DISC 2 - THE APPLE'S EYE


Fondness Makes the Heart Grow Absent

I woke twice last night, walked to the window
Looked down at the gravestones guarding St Patricks in the snow
And I thought if that’s where it all ends
I should get home again with you

When fondness makes the heart grow absent
I gotta find an orbit a little closer to the ground
And when fondness in my heart is absent
I’m in awe of the sabotage within

In the morning the cliffs of fear still rising from my sleep
A note from the demons is lying accusing at my feet
The parks are empty and the tea’s gone cold
I could slip so easily from the earth’s hold
The life has been lived and the story sold

When fondness makes the heart grow absent
I gotta find an orbit a little closer to the ground
And when fondness in my heart is absent
I’m in awe of the sabotage within

Black ice is creeping over the pavement
An overcoat slips to the ground like the Angel of Death
is playing on Prince Street
They’re falling and not making a sound

When fondness makes the heart grow absent
I gotta find an orbit a little closer to the ground
And when fondness in my heart is absent
I’m in awe of the sabotage within

When fondness makes the heart grow absent
I gotta find an orbit a little closer to the ground
And when fondness in my heart is absent
I’m in awe of the sabotage within

To this evening and what a pleasure
Here in Balthazar’s red leather
A little private toast and a vow to die
A natural death in my own good time


Michael couldn’t sleep. He had made the mistake of letting himself think of her again. His wife. Now he couldn’t close his eyes without picturing her face.

Isabel had died over a year ago, but he still felt as though it was yesterday that he had held her hand while she had slipped from this life to the next. She had whispered goodbye, told him that she loved him, that she wanted him to go on without her, but he couldn’t. If she was gone, life just wasn’t worth living.

Michael had moved from Sydney to New York, hoping the big city would devour him. It didn’t. He was still here, one year on, unable to sleep from the memory of her.

For the second time that night he got out of bed and walked to the window, the one in his bedroom that looked down on old St Patrick’s Cemetery. Fitting, he thought, that while every day, as he tried to remind himself to breath in and out, and keep on living, he had a constant reminder of the other way out. It would be so easy to end it all, and go and join his wife in their eternal home.

He was still so deeply in love with her, that he got lost in wishing he was still with her, even if it meant that he had to go to where she was now. He knew that he should want to live out his life, make the most of the time he had, move on, keep his feet out the ground, anything rather than continue having his head up in the heavens. As he thought of the love of his life, the less he loved his own, and the more he considered sabotaging the time he had left to enable him to join her sooner.

Seconds, minutes, hours later after pacing the room and staring at blank walls, he managed to drag himself back to bed to sleep out what was left of the night. When he woke in the morning, after a few hours of tossing and turning, he wasn’t any happier, and still remembered those midnight thoughts of death. As his legs dropped over the side of the bed, he noticed the note on the ground. The suicide note he had written during his despair. He crumpled up the note, not wanting to remember what he had written, how he had summed up his life - and his death.

He got dressed, pulled on his overcoat and went for an early morning walk, which was becoming his everyday ritual. The streets and parks were empty, as usual this time of morning, this time of year. That’s why he liked it. It was peaceful - as peaceful as New York City could be.

He had grabbed his morning coffee from the Starbucks on the corner, but by the time he had crossed the street to the park and brought the drink to his lips, the coffee had gone cold from the icy chill in the air. He didn’t feel the coldness on his face or his bare hands, immune to the shivers that were coursing down his spine. He liked the cold, because he felt closer to death. Because that was exactly how his wife’s body had felt to his touch after she had passed away.

It would be so easy to leave everything behind. There was nothing keeping him here any more. Max was on his way back to Sydney. Even when he was here he had been struggling with Isabel’s death too, and it wasn’t often that he was awake or sober enough for Michael to talk to him. Michael had had his share of drunken nights too, but during the day, he was sober as a priest. And that was when he thought about Isabel the most.

So he walked the streets, enjoying this grey frozen world. He threw his empty styrofoam cup into the bin, not feeling warmed by its contents. Standing in the snow he let his overcoat drop to the ground, wanting the frozen chill to completely fill his veins. Begging, supplicating, imploring the Angel of Death to come and take him now. He felt the snow falling softly around him, and knowing it wasn’t his time yet, picked up his coat and begrudgingly turned towards the direction of his apartment.

He didn’t feel like he was a part of this world, but he didn’t belong anywhere else either. He needed to find something, anything to care about; otherwise he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. This empty life. This hollow existence.

Early hours of the next morning, in his bedroom, still unable to sleep, and with thoughts of death on his mind, he emptied what remained of last night’s bottle of scotch into his glass. Lifting the glass upwards, he begged for the devil to come and take him from this hell to the next, where at least he may feel some warmth again. Standing by the window he waited, looking over the snow covered tombs in St Patrick’s, watching the beauty of the dawn rising over the gravestones. The sun’s rays touched the tips of the clouds, and spread over every corner of the city. The beauty of this awesome sight, even managed to touch the frozen corners of his heart.

At that moment he felt peace, clarity and almost, dare he say, joy. Lifting his glass again, this time he made a vow that he would not give up on this life before his time. He would live a full life, just as his wife had asked him to do. She would have to wait for him a little longer, because he had the rest of his life to live before he would be seeing her again.

[Oz]

Thanks for the feedback guys. Things are looking up for Michael, but Max is still dealing with some issues ...


DISC 1 - LITTLE CLOUD


I Was Alive

The night I met you were a fucking disgrace
Tripping over people falling flat on your face
I thought I’d dance with you ‘cause you wouldn’t remember
A year ago now that was the end of December

There’s been blood, and there’s been biting
There’s been Lizzie Taylor Richard Burton fighting
It’s all gone bad, that’s alright
‘Cause god I was alive
God I was alive

You found your schoolgirl French somewhere in the haze
And I was gone by the middle of the very first phrase
All’s fair in love and war in the Eastern suburbs I suppose
So I emptied the contents of my pocket in your nose

Well there’s been blood, and there’s been biting
There’s been drunk and disorderly fighting
All down the street and through the night
God I was alive
God I was alive

She don’t know which one to buy
Australian Shooter or Australian Bride

I throw my head up into the sky
Thank Dionysius for a little while I was alive
God I was alive

Using up fast the last days of my youth
Trying to see if you were coming from my hot tin roof
And rolling down the highway looking like an evil child
40 hours later you’d be back in the wild

There’s been blood, biting, Lizzie and Richard fighting
It’s all gone bad, but that’s alright
All down the street, all through the night
And god I was alive
God I was alive

She don’t know which one to buy
Australian Shooter or Australian Bride



Unable to fall asleep on the plane from all of the noises around him, the uncomfortable chair, and the lack of fresh air in the cabin, Max occupied his mind with thoughts of when it had all started. He hadn’t always been a drunk, and he used to be able to go out to the pub with friends and have a good time without getting completely hammered.

Back when Isabel had first been diagnosed, he had gone off the rails a little. Maybe that was when the drinking actually started, although at that stage he knew when to stop. The heavy drinking didn’t start until after Isabel’s death.


At Isabel and Michael’s house after the funeral, he stood in the front room, looking over the garden, trying to ignore all the long lost relatives that were trying to give him their condolences. Didn’t they understand that there was nothing they could say that would bring his sister back to him? After the hundredth person approached him, he flipped out and stormed out of the house. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

Without even thinking about where he was headed, he just walked around the streets of Bondi. Eventually he found himself standing on the beach in the place they had scattered Isabel’s ashes earlier that day. He said a prayer for her, hoping that she was now happy, finally free from pain. He just wished he felt the same way.

After the sun had gone down and the stars had come out, he walked back up the beach and headed in the direction of the Sandringham Hotel. It was Friday night so the place was packed. He ordered a beer from the bar and pushed himself through the crowd to an empty booth in the back. Taking a seat in the corner, he tried to hide himself from the rest of the world, drowning himself in his beer and his memories of Isabel.

“Heeey gorgeeeous.” Someone slurred next to him. Looking up from his drink, he saw a blonde haired girl leaning up against his booth. “Care to dance, sexxxxy?”

“No thanks.” Max replied, but then reconsidered. It was either the effects of the alcohol already liberating his decision making capabilities, or it was his resolution that he deserved a bit of fun, a desperate attempt to forget everything that had happened during the week. Besides, she was too drunk to remember anyway. He could make a quick exit and never see her again.

She grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor, stumbling over her own feet and falling over people who were too slow to get out of her way. Eventually he had to pick her up off the floor and help her across the room. There was a fast song playing, and Max watched this girl struggle to keep up. He spun her around the dance floor, adding more dizziness to her already off-balance manoeuvres. After a couple of songs she grabbed them both a few more drinks from the bar, and they continued to dance up a storm on the dance floor, getting more and more inebriated as they went. Finally the song clicked over to something a little slower, and Max wasn’t fast enough to make his excuses before she put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer for a slow dance.

“Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” She breathed heavily in his ear.

Max was taken aback. He had studied enough French in school to know a proposition when he heard one. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he should go and check on Michael, but he was unable to resist what she was offering. A one night stand, of which she, and possibly he, would have no memories of in the morning. He needed something to make him feel alive again, so he nodded ‘yes’, and they quickly headed out of the pub and stumbled in the direction of her apartment.

The night was spent having sex, a few more drinks, and more sex. Max had never met anyone like her. She was wild, crazed, and untameable. She showed him positions he had not believed possible, many times over, until they were both drowning in sweat and completely spent.

In the morning, when it was time for him to make his usual exit, he unfortunately found that she was already awake, walking around the kitchen wearing his shirt, making breakfast. From the amount she had drunk the night before, he couldn’t understand why she was already up and about and … humming?

“Morning.” She said, hitting him playfully on the backside with the spatula. “My name’s Tess by the way.”

“I’m Max.” He replied, fearing he had already begun to stumble into unfamiliar territory.

“I know.” She replied, and on seeing Max’s panicked face, as though she was a stalker or had been rifling through his wallet, she clarified, “You have your clothes labelled.”

It was true, his mother had always labelled his and Isabel’s clothes when they were younger, and after his mother had died, he had kept up the practice in her memory. Now he felt just a little stupid.

“How do you like your eggs?” Tess asked, returning to the stove, and ignoring the look of embarrassment on his face.

“Sunny side up. Thanks.” He replied, taking a seat at the table as he watched her moving around the kitchen. He started thinking to himself, maybe this was just what he needed to get his mind off of Isabel’s death? Someone to look after him, cook for him, talk to him and of course, how could he forget? Also give him the best sex he has ever had.


Looking back on it now, the benefit of hindsight is a wonderful thing. He knew that he had made the wrong decision at that moment, although he had been right about one thing - she could help take his mind off of his problems. How? Because they all seemed small in comparison to what she could do to someone’s life.


She was vivacious, full of life, and completely wild. He had never felt so alive. And he loved every minute of it. She taught him how to let go, be crazy and enjoy his youth. They would go out drinking every night until they could only just manage to stagger back to her apartment. There they would have sex until either one of them passed out.

The days, however, were a different story. They were spent yelling and fighting while she came down from whatever high she was on the night before. It seems the first morning was an exception to the rule of what she was normally like the day after a drinking binge. That sweet and bubbly girl was replaced with a depressed and angry woman. At times Max had to physically restrain her so she would stop hitting and slapping him, or from hurting herself in her depression.

During the days he swore that he would leave if she did it one more time, but in the nights of endless passion he would quickly forget how bad it could be. One day he would see her reading a bridal magazine, like she was planning a wedding, but on the next she would be shopping for guns looking for a fight. Two sides to her personality sitting open on the coffee table.

It didn’t last long. One night, during another high, Tess convinced Max to help her steel a motorbike. To his regret he did, and they went joy riding up the highway towards Newcastle. 50 kilometres out of the city they were pulled over by the police and arrested for theft, drunk driving and reckless endangerment. The charges against Max were dropped because it was his first offence and he was out almost immediately, but Tess was kept in custody for 40 hours. Apparently she was wanted in Melbourne on charges of assault, and had her licence suspended twelve months ago for drunk driving in Adelaide. The moment she was released on bail she skipped town, and he never saw her again. Max was relieved. She’d been fun for a while, but he couldn’t keep up that kind of pace, and he didn’t want to.

But the damage had already been done. Michael had left for New York, and Max was left alone, finally having the time to grieve properly for his sister. Unfortunately he found the best way to cope was through alcohol, and he became a regular of the Sandringham Hotel.


As the pilot announced their decent, Max wondered what would happen now that he was finally home. Would he slip so easily back into his old habits, or would he be able to start his life over, without alcohol? As the wheels of the plane touched the ground, he prayed it was the latter.

[Oz]

Thanks for the feedback RhondaAnn.

Now it's time for a little bit of happiness for Michael ... Enjoy!


DISC 2 - THE APPLE'S EYE


Beautiful as You

Travelling the world from side to side
From Pocket Mountain to the Apple’s eye
Like a misanthrope on Halloween I’m hiding
Under a tapestry of stone hung from the sky

But in all the ocean’s blur, the planes and taxis
And the places I have been and left behind

Nothing’s to me as beautiful as you
And how we’d be, if I could say it too
Nothing’s to me as beautiful as you, as beautiful, as beautiful as you

From a one horse town where we played over 50 songs
To an English rose and a Nova Scotian girl
An when the sun came up we all found the meaning
If I could read my writing I could tell you now

I’m looking down Manhattan to the lady
And casting streetlight shadows in a cloud of rising steam

Nothing’s to me as beautiful as you
And how we’d be, if I could say it too
Nothing’s to me as beautiful as you, as beautiful, as beautiful as you

I miss you girl like I miss the skyline of my own hometown
And I love you like I love the familiar feeling of being homeward bound

As beautiful as you, as beautiful as you

There’s an eagle hitching ice on down the Hudson
Through an early morning mist out on the bay

Nothing’s to me as beautiful as you
Nothing’s for free, I know they say that too
Nothing’s to me as beautiful, as beautiful, as beautiful as you


In the morning Michael jumped out of bed and actually felt excited about what the day had to offer. He picked up the picture of Isabel that was next to his bed, planted a kiss on her cheek, and laid it back down before he got ready to go out. Isabel had always wanted to visit New York, but like many of her other dreams, she had never had the chance to fulfil it. Now Michael was going to see it for her.

Even though he had been living in New York for a year, he had never seen the sights. Hiding from the world, he had preferred to stare at the cracks in the pavement, rather than stare up at the beautiful tall buildings that seemed to hang from the sky.

Walking around the city he saw so many things – the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, the Empire State Building, the Hudson River. But out of everything he saw, none of it compared to the beauty of his wife. If she had been there, he imagined how beautiful her face would be, all lit up in the excitement of seeing so many wonderful things. The thought of her happiness made him smile, knowing somehow, some way, she was here with him now.

He thought of Sydney, their home that he had left behind, and where they had been happy for those few years they had together. It was oceans away now. He thought about how hot and sunny it would be this time of year, while New York was blanketed in snow. If Isabel had been alive she would have dragged him down to the beach, and they would have spent the day lying on the sand and swimming in the waves. If she was here now, with him in New York, he knew she would have been just as happy, snuggling up to him with blankets and hot chocolate to keep warm from the cold.

More than anything else in the world Michael wished he could tell Isabel one more time just how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, and how she had made him a better person. If only he could tell her how much he missed her. Everything about her. Her eyes that sparkled when she smiled, her lips that were so soft against his own and her laugh that would light up the darkest room.

Rubbing his hands together, for once feeling the icy cold on his skin, Michael ducked into Starbucks. He wanted to warm his hands on a cup of coffee while watching the city pass his window. As he sat and watched, he pondered on what he was going to do with his life. He knew it was time to let Isabel go, but he had no idea what he should do. He thought of going back to Sydney, feeling homesick and wanting to surround himself things that reminded him of Isabel, but he knew it was still too much for him at the moment. If he was going to do this, if he was going to get over her and live his own life, he needed to start from scratch, and he couldn’t do that at home. He needed space to find the new Michael Guerin.

Taking the last sip of his coffee, he rose to leave, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of the reflection of someone in the window. Turning around he saw a girl, sitting alone in one of the back booths, drinking a coffee and staring at the mobile phone that lay on the table in front of her. He was intrigued by her. She was wearing a beanie on her head, but underneath long curls cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, but looked sad, lost, and nervous.

Not knowing what possessed him, he went to the counter and ordered another two coffees. Taking them, he walked over to her booth.

“You look like you need a refill.” He said, holding out the coffee like an olive branch.

She looked up at him startled, and he suddenly wondered what on earth he was doing. He would never have walked up to a stranger like this in the past. But then again, maybe this was the new him.

“No, that’s okay.” She declined, eyeing him curiously.

“Well then, if I have to drink both of these, the caffeine will be enough to keep me awake all night. You wouldn’t want that would you?” He said, trying not to sound too much like a stalker.

“Of course not.” She replied, taking the cup from him, but placing it in front of her without drinking it. “Did you want to sit down?”

She didn’t know why she offered. There must have been some cosmic force working that day.

“Thanks.” Michael said, thankful that she hadn’t kept him standing there looking stupid.

“So, my name’s Michael.” He said, offering his hand.

“Maria.” She replied, taking his hand in hers.

“So, you’re an Australian too huh?” Michael began, recognising the Australian twang. “You don’t know how good it is to here that accent again. It’s enough to make you homesick.”

“How long have you been here?” Maria asked, tentatively reaching for her coffee and taking a sip.

“About a year. You?”

“In New York, a couple of weeks. In LA, four years.” Maria replied.

“What do you do for a living?” Michael asked curiously.

“This.” She replied, indicating to her phone.

“You sell mobile phones?” Michael asked dubiously.

“No, I sit and wait for calls. I go to auditions and then wait for the phone to ring.”

“How often does it ring?” Michael asked.

“It hasn’t yet. I’m still waiting.”

“Maybe it’s broken?” Michael offered.

“No, I don’t think that’s it.” Maria replied, glad that he was making light of her disappointment. That way, she didn’t have to get upset that she had gone for yet another audition and hadn’t gotten the part.

“What do you audition for? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I spent the last four years in LA, at drama school, and applied for parts in film and TV. That didn’t work out so I’ve moved to New York to get into theatre. It’s what I always wanted to do anyway.” Maria replied, wondering whey she was opening up to a complete stranger. There was something about his face that made her feel less alone in this big city.

“Wow. So does that mean you can sing? You must, if you’re trying to get into Broadway.” Michael asked.

“Yeah. I actually write my own songs.”

“Really? Wow, that’s cool.”

“Thanks.”

At that moment, Maria’s phone began to ring.

“Are you going to answer that?” Michael asked, as he watched her phone vibrate across the table. Maria was just staring at it dumbstruck.

“Uh … uh, yeah.” She grabbed the phone and after taking a deep breath she flipped it open. “Hello …Yes it is … okay … no problem … okay … thanks … bye.”

As Maria flipped the phone shut, Michael raised his eyebrow in question.

“I got it …” Maria said, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe it.”

“Congratulations. So what’s the part?” Michael asked.

“It’s the lead in a play about a girl embarking on a journey in an attempt to discover the meaning of life. That’s about as much as I know.”

“I found the meaning of life once.” Michael offered.

“Really? What is it?” Maria asked interested.

“Can’t remember. It was prom night, and my best friend and I took our dates down to the beach afterwards. It was the end of year 12, so we were all debating about what we were going to do with our lives – while drinking a bit too much I might add. Very early in the morning we thought we’d hit upon what our lives meant, and I wrote it down on the back of my hand. When we woke in the morning, I must have been drooling or something, because the writing was all smudged.”

“So it could have been something as poetic as ‘beer is good’.”

“Actually, now that I think about it, that could’ve been it.” Michael smiled.

“I’ll see if I can work that into the production.” Maria smiled back.

“Cool… So I guess you’ll be going out celebrating big tonight.”

“Oh, probably not.” Maria replied, eyes downcast.

“Why not? It’s a big deal.” Michael pushed.

“Well, because … I don’t know that many people in New York. Actually, you’re the first person I have met, besides my landlord.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.” Michael replied.

“You’ve met my landlord?” Maria joked.

“Very funny. No, you’re the first person I have met too.”

“Hang on. Didn’t you say you have been here for a year?” Maria asked, confused.

“Yeah, I just … don’t get out much.” Michael said vaguely.

Maria didn’t buy it, but she didn’t want to push.

“So if I was to agree to go out with you, where would we go?” Maria asked.

“There’s this great little Italian restaurant I know in Little Italy. After dinner, I don’t know, maybe see a show, or an open mike night somewhere so you can sing me a few of your songs.”

“Maybe not the last part, but dinner sounds good.” Maria said, ecstatic that at the moment she had something to celebrate, someone had magically turned up to share it with. Maybe it was finally her time to be happy.

As they exchanged numbers, and arranged where to meet later that night, Michael watched as Maria pulled on her overcoat and wrapped her scarf around her neck, ready to step out into the cold air again. He smiled to himself that despite the layers of clothes covering her body, and framing her face, at that moment, there was nothing in the city as beautiful as her.

[Oz]

Thanks for the feedback everyone. You guys rock!

Ladylou, I'm from Adelaide - city of churches, retirement villages (and if you're a fan of Ben Folds - home of bogans, silver balls, clear air and better beer!). Southwest of Melbourne - I love the area down by the Great Ocean Road...

Just have to say that I went to see the Whitlams perform on the weekend and they were fantastic as always. I'm keen to get the next few parts of this fic out, unfortunately I have a couple of assignments slowing me down. In the meantime I'll just listen to my CD stacker filled with their CDs and pretend I'm back at the concert ...

So, enough about me, on with the story. Michael has found a little bit of happiness, but Max is still working things out. Hopefully we can see a hint of happiness for him in the future too ...


DISC ONE - LITTLE CLOUD


Year of the Rat

Creeping into town with all these changes in my head
Funny how my old haunts all look new
A taxi from the airport to the Paris end of King
I’ll drop my bags I’ll see who’s in

My dirty streets
My fabulous friends
Here I am
In your arms again

It’s easy being famous in Sydney
‘Cause everyone’s a star
But it’s got to be deepest darkest night
For you to see them all

There’s beer and women even for the thinking man
Join the circus come on down
I’ve heard they’ll even stop kicking you
Just before you hit the ground

My dirty streets
My fabulous friends
Yeah here I am
In your arms again
I’ll get a shine-on
All night and day
You rough me up
‘Til I gotta get away

You know I love you but you try and kill me
Gotta hold your head up in the Year of the Rat
Newtown I love you but you try and kill me
Gotta hold your head up in the Year of the Rat
Tat a tat tat tat

Second rower with the earpiece and the rumble in his eye
Making sure that I don’t stumble, wishes all the freaks’d die
Over there a plain-clothes cop looking at his watch a lot
Wondering is it time to call in the dogs

My dirty streets
My fabulous friends
Here I am
In your arms again
I’ll get a shine-on
All night and day
You rough me up
‘Til I gotta get away

You know I love you but you try and kill me
Gotta hold your head up in the Year of the Rat
Newtown I love you but you try and kill me
Gotta hold your head up in the Year of the Rat
Tat a tat tat tat

You know I love you but you try and kill me


There wasn’t anyone waiting for Max at the airport, but that wasn’t surprising since he didn’t have anyone to tell that he was coming home. It was ten o’clock at night, and the airport was still busy, but then again, this was Sydney after all. It wouldn’t get quiet until the curfew, and even then the airport never closed.

After waiting for ten minutes in the taxi stand, Max jumped in the next available cab, and sat in the back seat, wanting to just take in the city as they sped past. The taxi driver soon realised he wasn’t going to get a conversation out of his passenger about the Rugby, the Footy, or the federal election, so he drove in silence.

As they neared his own suburb, Newtown, Max began to recognise the familiar streets and landmarks. Although nothing had changed, it all looked strangely different to what he remembered. Maybe it was because it had been over a year since he had last been there, or maybe it was because it had been even longer since he had seen it while sober.

Dropping his bags in his apartment, he walked around the dirty streets, wondering if everything had changed, or if it was just him that had changed. With all of his talk of being a changed man, the moment he saw his old haunts, the pubs in which he had spent many late drunken nights, he knew that coming clean wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

As the sun began to set, Max found himself standing outside the Sandringham Hotel, the same place he had met Tess over a year ago. He didn’t know how long he stood there, just looking at the doors, having an inner debate with himself as to whether he should step inside or not. The angel on his right shoulder told him to walk away from the door, head back to his apartment and get some sleep before the jet lag set in. The devil on his left shoulder told him that there was no harm in just going inside, just to have a look.

The angel won, and Max put his hands in his pockets and took two steps away from the doors of the pub. Unfortunately those two steps had him to colliding into someone walking from the other direction.

“Sorry.” Max said, barely looking up before continuing down the street.

“Max? Is that you?”

Max turned to identify the face that went with the voice, and saw that it was Tommy, one of his friends from Uni.

“Man, I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been a long time.” Tommy continued, slapping Max on the back.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Max agreed, knowing the inevitable question was coming.

“Where’ve you been man?”

“Ah, New York actually, just got back.”

“Well, you’ve gotta come in and have a couple of beers with us and tell us all about it. All the guys will be there.” Tommy offered, steering Max towards the front doors.

Max knew he should say no; come up with an excuse; say anything just to get out of having to walk through those doors. He wasn’t strong enough to face the temptation, not yet. But then again, he did want to see his old friends again. He didn’t like the prospect of being alone in this big city. As he took the last step through the door he knew this was it – there would be no going back.

Inside, he was immediately blasted by the smell that used to make him feel like he had come home. The smell of cigarette smoke combined with alcohol. As he breathed it in, he thought about how comfortable he felt, back in the arms of his home town, his friends, and his favourite pub. How did he ever think that he would all of this up?

Siting down in the booth, he saw that his friends were already through their second round of drinks.

“Maxie! How ya goin mate? Good to see you back. What’ll you have?” Pauly said, slapping Max on the back and standing up to order him a drink from the bar.

Max debated for a moment, and eventually told Pauly just to grab him a lemon squash.

“Sorry? What was that? For a moment I thought you said you were drinking a softie? Not our old Max.” Pauly said, unable to believe his ears that ‘Drink-them-under-the-table-Max’ was asking for a soft drink.

“Yeah. Jet lag’s a killer.” Max replied, hoping that would keep his friends quiet for a few days.

“So. What’s New York like?” Tommy asked, as Pauly walked to the bar shaking his head in disbelief.

“There’s no other place in the world like it…” Max began, before describing the city in great detail to his captive audience. He actually surprised himself with the amount of details he was able to give them considering he was generally too drunk to remember much of his time there.

Pauly came back with Max’s drink, and in the first sip Max could tell that the drink wasn’t just lemon squash. There was vodka or gin in there too. Max knew he shouldn’t drink any more, but that first sip slipped so sweetly down the back of his throat, that his thirst was craving more. He told himself that just one drink wouldn’t hurt. He could stop at one, and then make his excuses to go home. But deep down he knew that was not going to happen.

By the time he had finished the first drink, a beer was placed in front of him by whoever’s turn it was to buy the round. Max stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, watching the beads of water running down the side of the glass. The sight of the full glass of beer in front of his made him feel so thirsty that he was willing to suck the beer right out of the carpet.

Picking up the beer, he skulled half the glass in one go, savouring the taste of the amber liquid on the back of his throat.

“And he’s back my friends!” Pauly yelled with his hands up in triumph.

“Welcome home Max.” Tommy said, raising his glass in a toast.

“It’s good to be home.” Max said with a smile. If it felt so good to be home, but he knew that it shouldn’t. This town was going to kill him if he wasn’t careful.

Later in the night, after quite a few more beers, Max and his friends had moved locations from their booth in the corner, to the crowd that had formed around the stage to watch the band that had begun playing. Max’s head was spinning for the alcohol, and from the sound of the bass reverberating around the room. He looked around the crowd, wondering how many familiar faces there were, and how many of the old regulars had moved on with their lives. If only he had been stronger, he could have been one of those people.

As his eyes scanned the crowd they lay to rest on a petite brunette standing with a group of friends to his right. She was beautiful, in an understated way. Long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, and tight sweater rising slightly giving him a glimpse of her hips. But the thing that had him drawn in, the thing that kept him captivated, was the sight of her smile and the life in her eyes. It had been a very long time since he had seen someone so truly happy without the alcohol-induced glaze over their eyes.

She was laughing with her friends, cheering the band, and singing along as though she was the one up there on stage. As he stood captivated by her, she looked over in his direction and caught him watching her. He quickly turned his head away, although knowing it was too late to pretend he hadn’t been staring at her for the past ten minutes. When he as game enough to steal another look in her direction, he knew that she had indeed seen him, and that she was now blushing. She stole a look in his direction, and this time, he didn’t look away, but gave her a quick smile. She smiled back before returning her attention back to the band.

For the rest of the night they kept stealing glances, but he couldn’t get the guts up to go over and talk to her. Not only was he sure that he was fairly well intoxicated, but she was with a group of giggling girls and he wasn’t so good in front of an audience.

The show finally ended, and as he went to steal one more look in her direction, he saw that she had gone. Kicking himself he knew he had lost his chance to ever meet her. He hoped that she was a local that came here regularly, but he knew there was just as much chance that she could’ve just been here to see the band.

Feeling suddenly hollow inside, he decided it was time to get home. The jet lag was beginning to set in, so he said his goodbyes to his friends before stumbling home.

If only he had the guts to talk to her, to ask her name and get her number. If only he wasn’t so intoxicated. If only he believed in his own self worth.

He had been in Sydney for less than 24 hours and he had already gone back to his old ways. He had reverted to the person that he hated, and he had broken the pact he had made to live the life his sister was denied. But what he hated the most was the fact that he had never craved a drop of alcohol as he did at this very moment.

This town was going to kill him.

[Oz]

Thanks everyone. If you've read ahead in the lyrics you'll know that Max has some troubled times ahead of him (and Michael has some interesting times??)

Ladylou - glad to know I've got you thinking about this fic when you hear their music. Maybe I'll even get you buying the album too! (Also glad to see the Crows at the top of the ladder!)

Xmag - would love to know who the recommendation was from - that's the best compliment ever! Glad to have you onboard.

Double-whammy this time. Couldn't resist throwing in another Whitlams song in the middle. It's an older song called 'Buy Now Pay Later (Charlie No. 2)' and I highly recommend listening to it while you read to get a full appreciation for the mood of the song (okay - maybe that's just me trying to plug their music again ...)

I also have to admit to borrowing ideas from the Viva Las Vegas episode. I will return them when I have finished with them...


DISC TWO - THE APPLE'S EYE


Second Best

Movie stars and fancy cars delight you
Gala balls and opening nights excite you
I don’t have my name in lights, I’m just a simple boy
Don’t you hesitate to call me
When only second best will do

Cover girls wearing pearls inspire you
French champagne and designer clothes incite you
You’re not in the magazines, you’re just a simple girl
Don’t you hesitate to call me
When only second best will do

Why do we want to live in a fantasy?
There’s a better place for you and me right here in reality
‘Cause this love is what dreams are made of
I hope you never have to settle for even less

I’ll work in a factory to support you
Give you 3 screaming kids to annoy you
Expect the worst and we won’t be disappointed
So don’t you hesitate to call me
When only second best will do


Michael looked himself up and down in the full length mirror, trying to work out whether he looked okay for his date with Maria. They had been out a couple of times now, and he was really beginning to like her. So much so, that for the first time he could remember, he actually cared about his appearance. He cared whether he was good enough.

With Isabel it had been different. They had known each other forever, so they were long past needing to impress each other. They knew every inch of each other, good and bad. They had even bathed naked together at the age of five, so there was nothing much left to hide. That doesn’t mean they didn’t dress up for each other, treat each other like royalty, but they just didn’t need to worry about whether they were good enough for the other. They knew where they stood.

Michael wondered about it now. Was he good enough for Maria? Admittedly they came from a similar background in Australia, and seemed to enjoy the same things in life. But Maria – her whole life was starting to map out in front of her. Michael knew she was going to be a big star. This first production was just the beginning. And what was he doing? He was working as a security guard in a factory downtown, earning a minimum wage. What could he possibly offer her?

But, as he took one final look at himself in the mirror, he made a decision. He would take what he could get. He loved spending time with this girl, and he could tell she felt the same. If their lives took them in different directions, at least they would have the memories of now. And when her name was up in lights, her face splashed on a billboard, he could point to it and tell his friends that he had dated her once. Before she was famous, she slummed it with him.

Maria was already waiting when he got to the piano bar. She was sitting in a booth, sipping on a cocktail, drumming her fingers on the table. He watched her for a moment, breathing in the sight of her. She wore a long black gown with her hair pulled away from her face, her long curls cascading down her neck, where a string of pearls hung delicately. When she looked up and saw him, she gave him a smile that made his knees weak. For an instant he glimpsed the future, Maria Deluca on stage, accepting a Tony Award, looking just as stunning as she did at this moment, and giving the crowd the same signature smile.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late.” Michael said as he sat down in the booth opposite her, and ordered a drink from the waiter who had appeared at his side.

“No problem. It gave me time to do a little people watching while I waited. Guess who was in here earlier? Sarah-Jessica Parker and her husband. Isn’t that exciting!” Maria squealed.

Michael tried to appear excited, but he really wasn’t sure who Sarah-Jessica whatever was. Apparently someone famous.

“… and apparently Tom Hanks comes in here all the time …” Maria continued. “Did you know he gave Nia Vardalos her big break after seeing her show?”

Michael was still scratching his head, but muttered something to suggest that he wasn’t aware of that.

“… wouldn’t it be great if something like that happened to me? I mean, if someone famous came and saw my show and offered me a movie deal, or even better, a recording contract …” Maria babbled, as Michael’s earlier dread began to surface. It was already starting, and she hadn’t even had her opening night yet.

“Of course that’s going to happen to you. You’re going to be amazing. And one day I’ll be bragging to all my friends that I knew you once.” Michael joked.

“Well, maybe you wont…Maybe you’ll be introducing me to your friends?” Maria hinted. She really like Michael, and sometimes had glimpses of a future with him. He was a really great guy. So down to earth and easy-going.

“Yeah right. Once you become a multi-millionaire and have your name up in lights, you’ll forget about little-old-me.” Michael smiled, only half joking.

“I could never do that – that hair of yours is unforgettable.” Maria smiled. Michael laughed as well, but a moment later, discreetly ran his fingers through his hair, feeling self-conscious.

“Gotcha!” Maria said, catching him in the act.

“Very funny.” Michael smiled, realising she had been playing with him.

“So … the pianist is good.” Michael said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, he is. You know, when I was younger, my life’s goal was to be the pianist who played in the foyer of the David Jones department store.”

“That was your goal?” Michael replied incredulously. “At least in a piano bar you have people sitting around listening to you, rather than just a few bars before the customers got on the escalators.”

“I never said it was a big goal. I was just a simple ten year old from Manly after all.”

“So then your goal changed to Broadway?” Michael asked.

“Well, first I was determined to start a rock band, but that didn’t work out so well.”

“What happened?” Michael asked.

“Well, it turned out that the other members of the band only agreed to join because I had a swimming pool. Once summer came around, they were more interested in swimming than playing. You know how twelve year olds can be...”

“I was more of a beach person myself really.” Michael interjected.

“So anyway, I gave up on the band and started to write my own music. In high school, my music teacher suggested I try out for that year’s school production of the Wizard of Oz, and I got the part of Dorothy. So, I got the acting bug, and have wanted to do some sort of acting or musicals ever since.”

“So, when you receive your first Oscar, are you going thank your music teacher in your acceptance speech?”

“You know, I just might.” Maria smiled.

They sat in silence for a moment, applauding the pianist who was leaving the piano to take a ten minute break.

“Why don’t I get us some more drinks.” Michael said, getting up from the booth.

As she watched Michael walk towards the bar, Maria looked at their drinks and saw they were still half full. Seconds later her confusion was cleared up, by the sound of Michael’s voice on the piano microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, there’s a very special young lady here tonight who would love to sing for you this evening. Please give a round of applause for Ms Maria Deluca.” Michael said, and a few people around the room clapped politely.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maria said as Michael pulled her over to the piano.

“I’m making you’re dream come true. Just picture this is the foyer of a department store. I can walk around pretending to be a browsing customer if you like.” Michael said, as he seated her at the piano, and put her handbag over his shoulder.

“No that’s okay.” Maria replied embarrassed. “Just sit down.”

Michael complied, and Maria’s fingers began running up and down the piano. Soon her sultry voice was filling the room.


Charlie you're not my Charlie anymore
You're screwing it up
You're killing your soul with an audience looking on

If I hadn't left early last night
I would have made a speech to you
How you're not the only one you're going to hurt

If you don't believe me I don't believe in you
If you don't believe me I don't believe in you

Makes it all feel better does it?
Makes you feel like heaven does it?
You loved it and you spent accordingly

You can't afford it now
You can't afford it now
You can't afford it now
You'll try and you'll fail
And love it like a little dog
And feed it on the scraps you find
And kiss it while you're still asleep
You buy now and pay later


Michael couldn’t help but feel the emotions that this song brought up in him. If he hadn’t turned his life around, she could’ve been singing about him. It wasn’t until this moment that he realised how his actions must have been hurting those around him. His thoughts automatically went out to Max. This song could be about him too.


So where's the problem you can ask if you keep your head up
But the road is long and you're falling asleep at the wheel
There's a girl going crazy about you and I'm not far behind
Can you care about your friends anymore?

If you don't believe me I don't believe in you
If you don't believe me I don't believe in you

Makes it all feel better does it?
Makes you feel like heaven does it?
You loved it and you spent accordingly

You can't afford it now
You can't afford it now
You can't afford it now
You'll try and you'll fail
And love it like a little dog
And feed it on the scraps you find
And kiss it while you're still asleep
You buy now and pay later

You buy now and pay later

There's a girl going crazy about you and I'm not far behind


There was a large round of applause for the audience, more than the hired pianist had received himself earlier that night.

“Maria Deluca. Remember that name Ladies and Gentlemen.” Michael said into the microphone before leading Maria back to their booth.

“I can’t believe I just did that!” Maria said, embarrassed but excited at the same time.

“That song was beautiful. Was it one of yours?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, it was one of the last songs I wrote in Australia before coming out to LA.”

Michael couldn’t help but here the despondency in her voice.

“Is it about someone in particular?” Michael prodded.

“My brother. He’s a couple of years older than me. He was in a band, and used to spend a lot of time in pubs and clubs doing small shows here and there. Six months before I left he started getting heavily involved in drugs and alcohol. He went off the rails, and no matter what my mother, or me, or Liz said or did, he just couldn’t see what he was doing to himself.”

“Liz?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, my best friend back home. She and my brother were sort of dating there for a while. Anyway, one night he was driving home from a gig, and he had an accident. We didn’t think he was going to pull through, but by some miracle he did. He has to walk with a cane now, but at least he’s alive.” Maria said, willing herself not to cry about the past. It was one of the reasons she needed to leave Sydney. Her brother didn’t cope well with detoxing, or his lame leg, and would often take it out on her or her mother. Liz persevered and tried to help him, but he eventually pushed her away too. He had since left home, and she occasionally caught up on news of what he was up to now. He was trying to start another band, but finding it hard to find other members who were willing to put up with his temper.

While Maria was inwardly thinking about her brother, playing with the napkin on the table in front of her, Michael was thinking about his own life, and about Max. He should have tried harder to get through to him, but then again, he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to be able to help him at the time. He wondered what Max was doing now that he was back home in Sydney. Would he be okay? Would he sober up? He really should call him to see if he was alright.

“So what are you going to do now that you have fulfilled your dream to play the piano in front of a crowd?” Michael said, feeling it was necessary to change the subject back to happier topics.

“Well, naturally, my life is now complete. I can move back to Sydney, and leave Broadway behind me. Get a job as a check-out-chick.”

“Well, if you ever want to settle down, give me a call. I’ll find a factory job to support us, give you three screaming kids to annoy - I mean adore you, a house in the suburbs and a pet dog named Boxer.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Maria replied smiling, and for the briefest of moments, she could imagine that life together, and in it, she was happy.

[Oz]

Thanks everyone.

Ok, so this is one of my favourite songs on the album, so if you listen to one song, this should be it. Actually, don't hold me to that because I have a few more favourites that I'm going to insist that you listen to! I hope you enjoy, and keep the feedback coming (because I'm lonely and bored and need contact with the outside world to keep me sane!)


DISC ONE - LITTLE CLOUD


Keep the Light On

We stumble into each other’s lives and we knock some things over
Try not to make a sound

Each time you reach out, a new shout or shine-on
We run in and fall out, fumble around for the key

I’ll always keep the light on for you
You try so hard to be alive
What else can you do, but close your eyes
You can’t see the beautiful way when you’re burning so bright

Your halfpenny eyes smile like a fire-sale
Everyone’s a suspect, the horses won’t move up the rail

I’ll always keep the light on for you
You try so hard to be alive
What else can you do, but close your eyes
You can’t see the beautiful way when you’re burning so bright

Your sadness, a thief, waits in the hallway
With mail on the floor and 2 birds in the chimney

I’ll always keep the light on for you
You try so hard to be alive
What else can you do, but close your eyes
You can’t see the beautiful way when you’re burning so bright

I’ll always keep the light on for you
You try so hard to be alive
What else can you do, but close your eyes
You can’t see the beautiful way when you’re burning so bright
So bright, burning so bright


Max managed to find his way back to his apartment, which wasn’t a bad effort considering he hadn’t lived there for a year and he had definitely had a bit too much to drink at the pub. Fumbling around with his keys, try as he might he couldn’t get the damn key to go in the lock. It was a simple concept he knew, but since when had the landlord installed five key holes in his door? Holding his head in an effort to keep the room from spinning, he gave up on the door and let himself slide down to the floor, thinking that gravity wouldn’t be as much of a problem down there.

He sat there for a minute, knocking his head on the wooden door behind him rhythmically, trying to shake himself out of his drunken state. As he sat there the door of the apartment opposite him opened, revealing an angel. Her eyes immediately went down to where he was sitting on the floor, and Max immediately recognised her from the pub as the brunette he had been eyeing off on the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” She asked, walking over and crouching down to his level.

“You followed me home.” Max said smiling.

“No, I live here. What are you doing here?” She asked in return.

“I live here too.” Max said, still smiling.

“Well then, what are you doing in the hallway?” She asked, returning his smile.

“I can’t unlock the door.” Max replied, holding up his keys.

“Here, let me help you with that.” She said, taking the keys from him, eventually finding the right one, and unlocking the door.

Unfortunately gravity was still causing problems for Max and he fell backwards onto the floor of his apartment as the door opened behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” She said apologetically, helping him to his feet. She steadied him as he tried to regain his balance, and while he leant down to rest his forehead on hers.

“I’m Max.” He introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you Max, I’m Liz.” Liz replied, beginning to struggle to hold him upright.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, not breaking their proximity.

“And you’re getting very heavy my friend.” She replied, pulling away and leading him into his apartment.

She helped him into the living room, and as he fell onto the couch, he pulled her down with him so she landed on top of him.

“Hi.” He said, pulling a piece of hair that had been dislodged away from her face.

“Hey yourself.” Liz replied, pulling herself off of him and taking a seat at the other end of the couch.

“So, nice place.” Liz said, taking a look around at the sheets covering the furniture and the unpacked suitcases. There was a pile of mail resting unopened on the kitchen bench, and it looked as though a couple of pigeons had taken up residence in the chimney. There were no photos lining the mantelpiece, nothing to suggest that someone actually lived here. The apartment had been neglected, and she wondered whether Max had been too. He seemed to have a sadness hanging over him. “How long have you lived here?”

“A few years.”

“How come I haven’t seen you around?” Liz asked.

“I’ve been in New York for the past year. Just got back today. How long have you lived here?”

“About nine months. What were you doing in New York?”

“Forgetting …” Max replied ambiguously, his eyes glazing over.

“Forgetting what?” Liz asked curiously.

“I don’t remember …” Max slurred, beginning to fall asleep on the couch.

Liz rummaged through Max’s cupboards until she found a blanket, and when she came back to the couch she found Max already asleep.

“Sweet dreams.” Liz said, placing the blanket over him, before taking one last look at his face, and letting herself out of his apartment

* * * * *

The following night, Max again found himself in the hallway, unable to get into his apartment. He vaguely remembered the same thing happening the night before, and an angel from heaven came down to help him inside. He had woken up to find himself on his couch with a blanket pulled over him.

“Helloooo.” He called, looking up to the ceiling, trying to remember where the angel had come from the previous night, and exactly how he had managed to summon her. Instead of descending from heaven, the door in front of him clicked open, and the angel came walking out.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Liz joked, holding out her hand for Max’s keys.

“But then I wouldn’t get to see your beautiful face.” Max replied, as Liz helped him to his feet.

“Steady.” Liz replied, as Max stumbled over his own feet.

As they walked into the living room, Max stumbled again and they went barrelling towards the lamp in the corner, knocking it over in the process.

“Easy, easy.” Liz said, lowering Max gently to the couch. This time he grabbed her hand and deliberately pulled her down with him.

“Very funny.” Liz said, but for some reason, she didn’t make a move to get up.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Max said, again pulling the hair back from her face.

“Oh please.” Liz said, lifting herself off. “Don’t start on the pick up lines. You’re too drunk.”

“It’s not a pick up line, I do know you from somewhere, I just can’t think where.”

“You’re just having déjà vu. We met in the hallway last night.” Liz replied.

“No, that’s not it.”

“The pub last night? You were on the dance floor.” Liz replied.

Max couldn’t hide his grin that she had admitted that she had been checking him out too.

“No, before that.”

“You just got back into town, so we couldn’t have met before yesterday.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was in a past life.” Max grinned.

“Maybe.” Liz conceded, rising to leave. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

“Have a drink with me.” Max said, stumbling his way to the kitchen.

“I don’t think you need any more to drink tonight.” Liz said, closing the fridge door, just after noticing that the only thing the fridge contained was a six pack of beer. She didn’t remember that being one of the five food groups.

“Sit down and I’ll make you a coffee.” She offered.

Max didn’t move, but watched her move around the kitchen.

“Do you have an Espresso machine?” Liz asked.

“Nope.” Max replied.

“Okay, instant coffee it is.” Liz said, grimacing at the sight of the year-old coffee that had gone hard in the container.

“It’s a good thing I’m used to drinking this stuff at work. It’s toughened up my stomach.” Liz said casually, pouring the hot water into the mugs.

“Where do you work?” Max asked.

“The Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. I’m a nurse.”

“That’s it.” Max replied, as though he had just solved a great mystery. “That’s where I know you from. You’re in the cancer ward right?”

“Yeah.” Liz replied, obviously trying to remember seeing him there. “You weren’t …”

“No, my sister…”

“…Isabel.” Liz finished for him.

“Yeah.”

Liz distractedly put down the teaspoon she had been stirring the coffee with.

“I’m so sorry.” She said.

Liz remembered Isabel. She had been such a lovely patient. Never complained about the months of Kemo or threw tantrums about how unfair life was. Liz had tried everything she could to make her last days more comfortable, but all Isabel needed was for her husband and brother to be by her side. They all seemed so close.

Max didn’t reply, but walked back to the couch. Liz followed him, and placed the drinks on the coffee table in front of them.

“You’re sister was a beautiful woman.” Liz said, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She was.” Max replied, now unable to stop the tears from flowing. He knew he shouldn’t be crying in front of Liz, practically a stranger, but he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t grieved properly, and it seems it was all catching up to him.

Liz put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. She knew there was nothing she could say besides murmuring words of comfort. She was used to family members of patients breaking down on her like this, but Max was different. She honestly wished she could away his pain and bear the load for him for a while.

“Is that why you drink so much?” Liz asked, knowing it was possibly not the best subject to raise, but she felt it needed to be said.

Max nodded in reply. “It’s just so hard.”

“I know, I know.” Liz replied, stroking his back. She did know. She had seen someone she loved become an alcoholic. She only wished Max would make it through without causing injury to himself, or someone else.

“I wish you could see the potential you have, and how beautiful the world can be. If you live your life from one drink to the next you miss out on so many wonderful things.” Liz offered.

“But why should I get to experience these beautiful things when Isabel can’t? ... It should have been me.”

“But it wasn’t, so now you have to spend the rest of you life making Isabel proud of you, and doing all of the things she didn’t get the chance to.” Liz encouraged.

“Do you believe in heaven?” Max asked.

“I do. And I believe Isabel is there, and she’s happy.”

“I hope so.” Max replied with a weak smile.

“Now, let’s get you into bed.” Liz replied, giving Max her hand. She led him into his bedroom, laid him down on the bed, and took off his shoes. As she was pulling the blanket over him, he grabbed her hand.

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” He pleaded, and she could see the urgency in his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Of course. I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Liz replied, taking off her shoes, and lying on the bed next to him.

Max took her hand again, and held it until he eventually drifted off to sleep. When she could hear him softly breathing, she planted a light kiss on his forehead before getting up to leave.

“I’ll always be here for you.” She repeated, remembering the same promise she had made to someone else all those years ago, and hoping, this time, she could keep it.

She was about to close the door to his apartment behind her but, as an afterthought, she went back into the kitchen and took the beer from his fridge. She hoped he wouldn’t even notice it had gone.

[Oz]

Okay M&M fans - forgive me for what I'm about to do, but the lyrics demand it!

Also, if you get to the end of the fic and just need some really angsty music to mull things over, try this link (broadband only otherwise your computer might choke!):

http://www.thewhitlams.com/VIDEOS/defau ... hro-hi.flv

I know I'm always plugging their music (and they should have put me on their payroll by now) but this is the most popular song of the Whitlams (and for good reason). Starts of slow but they belt it out at the end. Enjoy!


DISC TWO - THE APPLE'S EYE


Fancy Lover

Have you ever had a fancy lover?
Gone crazy trying to keep up with her
It’s like you’re standing in the darkness
In the theatre up the back
Joining her ovation
When you wish you could distract her take her home

You had to try
Don’t some great loves start with someone aiming too high?

Have you ever had a fancy lover?
Thrown everything that you’ve got at her
She’s the winter that’s so bitter you’ll cut wood all summer long
She’s two long years of thinking going into
one old song and that aint good

You were doing fine
You knew your chances and your place in the line

Fancy lovers they need fancy lovers of their own
You’ll camouflage your soul for them
Where do they get to meet their own kind of people?
Is there a light on the steeple that only fancy people see?

When you try and keep a fancy lover
You force her hand and then discover
She wouldn’t look so perfect if it was just for you
Is there a guy behind your shoulder that she may have noticed too?
You’ll never know

You had to be in
You bet on hearts boy even when you won’t win

And then she’ll take the field against you
Fighting above your weight and your height
One hundred ways to hit the canvas
A thousand days to beat the count

Fancy lovers they need fancy lovers of their own
You’ll camouflage your soul for them
Where do they get to meet their own kind of people?
Is there a light on the steeple that only fancy people see?
That only fancy people see
Fancy


It was Maria’s opening night.

Michael had seats up near the back. Close enough to see her, but not close enough to distract her should her eyes fall on him in the crowd. That was her request. He hadn’t seen her since the day before; she had been too busy all day with last minute rehearsals. He wasn’t sure if that was at the insistence of the director, or if it was Maria’s desire to be perfect. He knew she would be perfect, no matter what.

The lights dimmed and Michael was immediately enthralled in the show. He had come to watch her at rehearsals many times, but tonight was different. The lighting, the costumes, the audience. Suddenly now it all seemed so real and so … amazing. Maria was a natural. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Looking around the audience he noticed that the majority of the audience seemed to feel the same. She was so captivating that when the curtain dropped for the interval, people took a moment to register before the applause began.

Michael wondered how Maria was feeling. He could just picture her, asking the director and cast members over and over whether they thought it was going okay, not confident enough in herself to realise just how good she really was. He fought the urge to run backstage and see her, and instead grabbed a drink from the bar.

He was feeling uneasy, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. He should be happy for Maria, happy that she was doing so well, and happy that he had been able to know her before she became a big star. But now, now he felt inadequate. He had known all along that it would come to this, and he had been willing to just take what he could get. But now that they had spent so much time together, he wasn’t ready to let go so easily.

They had only known each other for a few months, but he felt as though he had known her forever. They had spent so much time just talking together that he could practically recite her entire life history. They connected, and he hadn’t believed that would happen to him again after Isabel.

After the final standing ovation, Michael made his way backstage, wanting to congratulate Maria on her performance. He eventually found her, after almost getting turned away by security before one of the chorus girls recognised him from rehearsals and helped him through.

“Michael! I’m so glad you’re here!” Maria said, giving him a hug, and for a moment he forgot all of his previous thoughts of not being good enough for her. She always had a habit of removing his doubts when they started getting the better of him, and making him feel like the most important person in the world to her.

“These are for you.” He said, presenting her with a bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Maria replied taking a deep smell of their perfume, before placing them on her dressing table, where Michael now noticed the multitude of other bunches she had received. He knew he should have gotten her something else.

“You were really great out there.” He said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Really?” Maria replied, and Michael could tell she was genuinely pleased that he had enjoyed her performance.

“Really.” Michael smiled, wanting to be more eloquent, but having words fail him.

“Maria, the New York Times are here for their interview.” Maria’s assistant interrupted.

“Oh, okay. Um, will you wait here for me? I won’t be long.” Maria turned to Michael.

“Of course.” He replied, watching her follow her assistant out the door.

An hour later, when Michael had sufficiently worn a hole in the carpet from pacing, he left a note for Maria to let her know he had gone home. He knew she would be caught up with interviews and celebrations late into the night, and he just wasn’t up to celebrating. Somehow he knew he had already lost her to this world. She would be successful and famous, and there wouldn’t be much time left for him. He wished that he could scoop her up and take her home with him, just so he could have her all to himself, but he knew that couldn’t be. This was what she had always wanted, and he would be happy for her.

* * * * *

Maria wasn’t around much for the next few weeks, spending her nights performing, and spending her days sleeping or doing interviews. To keep himself distracted, Michael took on extra shifts at the factory, doing the night rounds. He liked the nights, as there was nothing to do but occasionally walk a lap of the factory or watching the monitors. He would turn one of the monitors over to the tv, flipping through stations, and occasionally caught one of Maria’s interviews. The other guys at the factory wouldn’t believe him when he said that she was his girl. He found it hard to believe too, and wondered if it was still true.

When Maria would get a night off, she would bring over a DVD and takeaway food and they would veg out on the couch for the night. Michael liked these nights, as they reminded him of those few months he had known Maria before she was famous. She wore track-suit pants and her hair was a mess, but that was the way he liked her. That way, he didn’t feel so inadequate around her. Unfortunately those nights were few and far between, and Michael could feel them slowly drifting apart.

On one such night, they were sitting in front of the tv, Michael had the sudden urge to go out.

“Not tonight.” Maria replied when Michael suggested leaving the takeaway and going out for dinner.

“Why not?” Michael asked, getting uptight, but not able to stop himself.

“Because I’m tired, and I just want to stay in with you.” Maria replied, trying to ignore Michael’s tone.

“You never want to go out anymore. Are you embarrassed to be seen with me now you’re so famous?” Michael accused.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you even think that?” Maria questioned. She had no idea where this attitude was coming from.

“Because I rarely get to see you anymore, and when I do, all you want to do is crash here. You dress up for all of your parties, your audience, but not for me.” Michael didn’t know why he was saying these things to her. He loved the fact that she was so relaxed around him, but part of him was feeling jealous that she would dress up for the cameras, but didn’t try to impress him anymore.

“I didn’t think you liked dressing up and going out. Whenever I ask you to a premier or a party, I always have to drag you there, or you find some excuse why you can’t come with me.”

“Maybe it’s because I want to have you to myself. I hate watching guys leering all over you, like you’re some sort of commodity.”

“It’s the business. If I want to be successful I have to play along with their games. I don’t enjoy it either.” Maria retorted.

“C’mon. I’ve seen you. You love the dresses, the jewellery, partying with A-grade celebrities who all know your name. I know. I stand in the corner and watch you work the room. You forget I’m even there half the time. You never introduce me to anyone, and you think it’s amusing when someone confuses me for a waiter!”

“That only happened once …” Maria smiled, but then quickly stopped when she saw that Michael was being serious.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make a name for myself. I thought you would support me.”

“I’ve been trying, but I feel like I’m losing you to this new life of yours, where there is no part for me.”

“Don’t say that. There’s always a place for you in my life... But can you say there is a place for me in yours?” Maria retorted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael demanded.

“It means that you know everything about my life, my childhood, my brother, my doubts and my aspirations, but I know hardly anything about you.”

“That’s not true.” Michael replied.

“Really. So why did you move to New York? Why was I the first person you had met in New York even though you had been here for a year? Why are there no photos up in your apartment? Why do I always feel like you’re leaving out a really important part of your life when you tell me about your life before you met me?”

Michael was silent. He knew he hadn’t been forthcoming with information, but he wasn’t ready to talk to Maria about Isabel yet.

“My point taken.” Maria replied to his silence. “Why are you trying to sabotage our relationship?”

“Look, I know that I haven’t told you everything about my life, but I’m scared to let someone else in.” Michael admitted.

“Why?” Maria asked, stroking his face and trying to meet his eye. “What happened to you?”

Michael didn’t say anything, but tried to force himself not to let Maria see the tear in his eye.

“Come to Sydney with me.” Maria blurted.

“What?” Michael said, whipping his head back to meet her eyes.

“The show is finishing up on Broadway next week, and we’re moving it to the Sydney Opera House.”

“When did this happen?” Michael asked, wondering how long she had known that she would be moving away and hadn't told him.

“It was only announced today. I came over here to tell you as soon as I heard.” Maria admitted. “So what do you say?”

Michael thought for a moment. Was he ready to face his past? Was he ready for the constant reminders of Isabel in their home town?

“I … I can’t.” Michael replied.

“Why not?” Maria asked, choking back the disappointment.

“I just can’t. I’d go with you anywhere in the world if you asked me to, but not there.”

“What happened in Sydney?”

Michael didn’t reply, but walked towards the window.

After a few minutes when Maria knew she wasn’t getting an explanation, she grabbed her coat and headed for the door.

“I’ll be on a plane Sunday-week. I hope you’ll at least come and see me off.” Maria said, opening the door.

“I love you.” She said, before closing it after her.

Michael whipped his head around at the sound of the door closing to see her gone. He knew he should run after her and tell her that he loved her too, but how could he say that to any one besides his wife? How could he be in Sydney with another woman? How could he be good enough for Maria anyway? Maybe it would work out for the best having some space. Maybe then Maria would realise that she didn’t love him; she was just biding her time until someone better came along. She would see that she was only with him because he had met her first, not because he was her first choice.

And in the silence that her departure had left behind, he could have sworn he could hear his own heart breaking ... that's if he could believe he had a heart left to break.