VARIABLE

 

By Chicky

 

Title: 'Variable'
Rating: NC-17 (someday)
Spoilers: Well, I'm pretty thoroughly spoiled, and there might wind up being vague references even into Season 3, but consider all of Season 2 in here. I'll try to warn if I put in something that hasn't aired in the US yet.
Category – FutureFic, M/M, CC/UC
Disclaimer – In case you're confused, None of this belongs to me.
Author’s Note – Ok, this fic is my red-headed step child. It was actually begun a few months ago, before my last fic, and has been abandoned more times than I can count. I'm not proud of it, it's first person, and it's honestly not at all my best (my Michael narration comes off as being a little feminine, ok, not a little a lot) - you probably think I'm joking, but when you start it you'll understand. Anyway, I'd consider this more of a warning than anything, this fic is gonna' be in minor circulation, it's not very good, it's certainly not gripping, probably the only good thing about it is that a good chunk of it is already written so updates will actually be regular *gasp*.

Oh - by the way, this could be considered heavily angsty, and may or may not involve character death, I'll let you find out for yourself.

Note: The slashes // // indicate flashes or memories.

  

PART 1

 

 

Damn.

It’s nearly 11:00 and I haven’t showered yet. I reluctantly drop the brush in my hand and take a step away from the wall where my new canvas is mounted.

Not again.

There they are, luminous green eyes. Staring at me. Haunting me. I know there is paint on my hand, but I run it through my hair anyway. When will I stop doing this?

The digital clock on the corner bookshelf blinks from 10:56 to 10:57. Gotta’ go shower. Can’t be late.

I hate schedules. For years I’d been without one, and I liked it that way. Now, I have to be up by a certain time every morning, have drop-off and pick-up times. Living by the clock sucks.

The bathroom is completely filled with steam when I step out of the shower. I know I switched the fan on before I got in, but I can’t hear it now. Must be on the fritz again, I’ve done the ‘hand-wave’ over it a dozen times, but it always breaks after a day or two. Maybe I need to actually call a repairman. This reminds me that the two sprinklers in the back corner of the lawn also aren’t working, and there are two brown circles in the otherwise green grass to prove it. There’s always something. No one ever tells you that the ‘dream’ of owning your own home is actually a ‘nightmare’ of endless hassles. Of course, no one forced me to buy an eighty-year old house.

Sliding the closet open, I’m about to reach for a favorite pair of jeans when I remember they probably wouldn’t be appropriate. I slide the other side of the closet open. The Gap side, and take out a pair of khaki pants that fit too tightly for my taste, and a black short sleeved shirt. This is all Isabel. About every four months she hauls me to the mall and insists I buy some ‘grown-up’ clothes. I nearly make the mistake of putting on my work boots but think better of it and opt for a nice looking pair of black leather boots (also from the Gap side of the closet). Isabel hates it when I call it the ‘Gap’ side, she informs me that many of the clothes are from Banana Republic and AX – I don’t really care where they’re from, I hate them.

The mid-day sun beats down on my head when I walk out the back door, and I glance at my watch to see how I’m doing for time. Yeah, should be able to make it by 12:15. It’s strange, the California sun. Somehow it’s a little more yellow here than it is in New Mexico. The Roswell sun is white, piercing. This sun is a little softer.

Inside the SUV the heat is stifling, and I roll down the windows waiting for the air conditioner to start making a difference. It’s not a long drive, but the traffic is a pain. By the time I pull into the parking lot I’m not a happy camper. Not that I’m ever a happy camper. I try to wipe the scowl off my face as I pull open the door to the building, but it’s taking more effort than I’m willing to put out, so the expression remains. She won’t like it. She’ll make a face and roll her eyes. Oh well.

These stupid shoes make squeaking sounds as I walk down the hall, and I’m kicking myself for not wearing my work boots. I round the corner of the hall and walk the last few steps to the room, and taking a deep breath I throw the door open. Every head turns to see who has entered, and for a moment I feel overwhelmed. Twenty-five pairs of curious little eyes watch me as I join the small cluster of adults at the front of the classroom. Of course, there is one pair of not-so-curious eyes glued to me, begging me to try not to embarrass her.

“Mr. Guerin,” the teacher, Mrs. Smith-Johnson or John-Smithson or something, looks at me with a smile, “we’re still waiting for two more of our parents.”

I give her a polite nod, and something close to a smile, and she turns back to the class to whom she’d been giving instructions before I walked in and interrupted them. The woman to my right turns to me and introduces herself, and I shake her hand and tell her my name. She smiles knowingly and turns back to the other two women and introduces them as well. One of the women gives me the knowing smile like the first, and the other actually bats her eyes.

God, this is ridiculous.

I’m trying hard to remember why I wanted to do this. She certainly didn’t want me here. When she brought the permission slip home last week she’d tried to hide the part of the note asking for parent volunteers. I’d had this feeling, like it was what a good ‘involved’ parent would do, so I’d filled it in and sent it back with her. Well, maybe I shouldn’t have. Now it was clear why she hadn’t wanted me here, I didn’t fit in. And, by not fitting in, I was making her not fit in. She was glancing nervously between the speaking teacher and me. I don’t know what she thought I was going to do. It’s not as if I’d suddenly burst into song or start break dancing or something.

The other two ‘parents’, who also turned out to be ‘mothers’ walked in and stood with us at the front of the classroom. Thankfully, the last one looked like she was at least under thirty, which made me feel a little better.

“Ok,” the teacher said, “let’s assign everyone to their cars. First off, if your moth- or rather parent is here please go stand in front of them so that your friends will know who they’re riding with.”

She rises out of her seat, reluctantly, and furrows her brow painfully, as if she doesn’t want to claim me. I don’t know why. They all already know who I am. I’ve come to this classroom to pick her up after school everyday for the last three weeks.

Standing in front of me and facing the classroom she crosses her arms, and even though I’m behind her, I know she’s got the ‘defensive face’ on. As I’m looking down at her, I notice that my arms are crossed as well, and I realize I’m probably wearing the ‘defensive face’ too.

The teacher pulls out a sheet of paper, “Ok, with Ashford’s mom are…”

She doles out the assignments, and the kids hop out of their seats to go stand with the people they’re riding with.

“And, with Allie’s dad we have…” she calls out the names of three kids, I’m not sure if they’re boys or girls until I finally see three girls standing in front of me, staring up.

I must have tuned out, because I was a little lost when everyone started filing out of the room. The teacher handed me the directions, and called something about ‘caravaning’ over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

“Ok, I guess you’re all with me,” I said looking at them. My voice must have frightened them because they all jumped a little and Allie tensed. I tried a softer tone, “Uhhh, I’m parked out front.”

I turned and walked out and I heard them following behind me. As my shoes squeak down the hallway, I try to remember my first fieldtrip when I was in school. Nothing really pops into my head, but I know there must have been one. Of course, I certainly didn’t have a parent with me, I probably rode with Max and Iz. Don’t really remember.

We reach the parking lot, and without even thinking I hold my hand out to Allie. Rule: she doesn’t set foot on pavement without holding an adult’s hand. I look down when she doesn’t grab it and I see the horror on her face. Oh, not cool to hold father’s hand in presence of classmates. For a moment I’m stunned, and I can’t believe how old she looks. First grader going on Senior in high school. Great. This is not the time to get sentimental.

I don’t want her to think it’s suddenly ok for her to cross the street by herself, so I put my hand on the back of her shoulder instead, steering her toward the vehicle. I’m herding the other three in front of me to keep an eye on them. Parking lots make me nervous, people are stupid in parking lots.

Opening the back door of the SUV, I drop down the second seat and two of the girls climb into the third seat, then I pop the seat back into place and the last girl climbs in beside Allie. They don’t really say anything as we start on our way to the bakery they’re touring, and I suppose they’re waiting for me to say something. I don’t know what, though, and I’d rather be quiet than say the wrong thing.

For a moment I look at her in the rear view mirror. She’s wearing her customary t-shirt and jeans. Her blonde streaked brown hair was, as usual, springing out of the ponytail I’d pulled it into that morning. My hair. I know she doesn’t quite realize it yet, but some day she’ll curse me for it. Glancing again, I catch her profile and marvel at how like me she is. My cheekbones, my chin, my forehead, my mouth, even a feminine version of my nose. Then, she turns to me, and I see her eyes… her eyes. I’ve had an affect on them as well, because they’re brown like mine - but despite the color, those eyes are all her…

The girl in the seat behind mine finally broke the silence, “So, why didn’t your mom drive, Allie?”

Hasn’t she told them? I stare at her in the rear view mirror and I see that she’s staring out the window, working her little fingers back and forth across her eyebrow. The silence stretched, and I was about to answer the girl when Allie sighed and did it for me.

“Don’t have a mom,” she sounds disinterested, as if the girl had asked if she had a dog.

“Why not? Everybody has a mom,” the girl said. I know she’s not being malicious, kids are just like this. They say whatever they’re thinking. I’m watching this conversation closely in the rear view, and I have a feeling that the girl thinks I can’t hear her.

Allie looks sharply at the girl and shrugs, “She’s dead.”

“Oh,” the girls raises her eyebrows.

“I don’t have a dad,” one of the girls in the third seat chimes in. “Well, I mean, I do, but I never see him.”

“I have a dad,” the girl next to Allie says, “he’s lots older than Allie’s dad, though.” She raises her voice to make sure I can hear her, “How old are you, anyway?”

Great.

“Twenty-five,” I say, pretending to see something interesting on the street.

“Wow,” the girl in the third seat said, “my brother is twenty-five.”

I dare a look at Allie, hoping she won’t notice because I’m wearing sunglasses. She doesn’t like this, her jaw is clenched.

“My mom says you’re like a rock star,” this time it’s the other girl in the back, she’s been silent until now.

“No,” I run a hand through my hair as I pull to a stop at a stoplight.

“You look like a rock star,” the girl next to Allie says.

“He’s not a rock star. He’s a painter,” Allie says tersely.

For a moment I notice how bubbly the other girls’ voices are compared to hers.

“What do you paint? Houses?” I couldn’t make out which one of them asked.

“No, pictures,” I reply, thanking my lucky stars that I’m pulling into the parking lot of the bakery.

While the kids all take a tour of the facility, I sit in the little coffee shop with the ‘mothers’. If the teacher hadn’t suggested that we ‘all wait here’ I think I would have hidden in the car. They’re talking and laughing around me, occasionally sending a question my way. ‘Do you have any other kids?’ No. ‘You’re a widower?’ Yeah. I don’t want the hassle of explaining that we were never married.

I’m starting to re-think my decision to enroll her in school. Isabel nearly killed me last year when I didn’t send Allie to kindergarten. I told her it would be an insult to Allie’s intelligence, and had promptly received a lecture about school being an important social experience. Max understood, he even backed me up. I think he knew the real reason. I didn’t want to let her go.

I knew I couldn’t avoid the first grade, so I’d looked for a good school to send her to. It was tough. I’d finally opted for a small private school, they had all of these ‘hands on’ teaching methods to nurture creativity, and I thought it would be best for her. Not that she wasn’t smart, in fact she was brilliant, I just wanted her to be somewhere interesting. The school had a six-year waiting list, which basically meant you had to enroll your kids the minute they were conceived. My business manager set it up so that Allie could skip the waiting list, in exchange for me giving them a quote they could put in their brochure.

She’d only been in school for three weeks, though, and it was killing me. I missed her presence in the house during the day. Not that we were constantly in the same room or anything, I just liked the security of knowing exactly where she was. Maybe that was the real reason I’d jumped at the chance to go on the field trip, to have a chance to see if she was really happy there. Now that I’d seen her with the other kids, I wasn’t so sure, she seemed to hang back from the rest of them. Then again, she would probably do that no matter what school she went to. Life with me seems to have affected her. Somehow I’d hoped that spark of perkiness that had to be hidden somewhere in her genetic code would manifest itself in a social setting…

“Look, they’re handing out cookies, they must be almost done,” one of the mothers said as she pointed across the room to the kitchen where the kids were huddled around a man in a chef’s hat holding a box of cookies.

When the tour was over, everyone slowly wandered out to their respective vehicles and we all headed back to the school. On impulse, I pulled over at an ice cream stand and got the girls each a cone. It earned me a disapproving, but amused look from the teacher when we walked back into the classroom. I didn’t care, it was worth it. Before we left to go home, I heard at least ten kids say that ‘Allie’s dad was the coolest’, and I caught her smiling as we crossed the parking lot hand in hand.
 

 

 

 

PART 2

 

 

We were just finishing supper when I felt it. It was like something ruptured inside my head. Allie looked at me strangely when I suddenly pressed my palms against my temples.

“Dad?”

“Ah, headache,” I said, not wanting to alarm her.

“Oh…” she replied, pursing her lips.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. Replaced by an extremely vague feeling in the back of my mind. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if it weren’t for the fact that it had been so long since it had been there. A presence that I could feel, and measure in miles instead of light years.

A couple of hours later, Allie was in bed, and I was doing the dishes in the kitchen when Iz walked in the back door a few feet from me. Not surprising, I knew she would come.

She threw her purse on the counter and sat down, glancing around, trying to locate Allie. I pointed at the ceiling and she nodded in understanding.

“He’s back,” she whispered urgently.

“Yeah, I know, I’m glad I wasn’t driving when that happened. It was much worse than the last time.”

“I didn’t notice. So, he hasn’t called you?”

“Don’t you think I’d have said something if he did?”

She ignores me, she always does.

Almost on cue, the phone rings, and I rinse my hands in the sink before walking across the kitchen to grab it. Too late, I can hear Allie’s voice in the hall as she walks down the stairs.

“Uncle Kyle!”

Silence, followed by giggling. I look at Iz and she shrugs and turns her chair toward the hall. We can hear her footsteps coming closer. Allie loves Kyle, he’s the only one who can still coax that unabashed laughter out of her.

“I know, and remember last week I told you that they have a basketball team? Yeah, they do, but it’s boys and girls. Ick! No, I don’t wanna’ play with boys.”

She’s laughing as she walks into the kitchen, and she gives Isabel a little wave before walking to me, “Yeah, he’s here, just a sec.”

The phone is suddenly thrust in my direction and I raise my eyebrows at her. She’s supposed to be in bed and she knows it, so she nods and runs over to give Iz a hug before going back upstairs.

I hadn’t been expecting a call from Kyle, so I put the phone hesitantly to my ear, “Kyle?”

“Yeah, hey,” he sounds rushed and extremely excited, almost giddy, “Max is back.”

“Believe me, I know. Uh, how do you?”

“He’s here, with me.”

“What?” I can’t imagine whey Max would go to Kyle first.

“I’m visiting my dad, remember? I called Allie last week and told her to tell you in case you needed anything.”

“So, does he need us there?”

“No, he’s hopping on a plane to Albuquerque tonight, and he’ll be at LAX in the morning.”

“Kyle, did he…?” I almost don’t want to ask.

“He’s got him.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and turn to Isabel and nod, almost instantly tears pool in her eyes.

“Thank God.”

“Yeah. Uh, look, I tried to call Iz, but she wasn’t at home.”

“She’s here.”

Awkward pause, I know he doesn’t know what to say, and I don’t either.

“Oh, ok,” he says finally, “so you can fill her in.”

“I don’t really know anything yet.”

“Look, I really don’t either. He’s being sorta’ tightlipped. Uh, Michael...?”

"Yeah?"

He sighs, and I wonder if he wanted to ask me something or tell me something when he whispers, "Nevermind."

“Ok, well give me their flight information.”

I scribble everything on the little chalkboard I keep next to the phone, and hang up.

“Tomorrow morning, 9 o’clock,” Isabel reads my writing softly to herself.

Turning around, I look at her and nod slowly. She stands and walks over to the fridge to pull out a soda, then without another word she walks upstairs.

I finish the kitchen clean-up and turn off the lights, then I head down the main hall to my studio and walk inside to straighten up for the night. I try not to look at the eyes on the canvas, but I can feel them following me as I walk around the room cleaning brushes and folding the drop cloth. Just as I’m about to turn off the light and head upstairs I catch sight of them.

Is it stupid to hate yourself for being able to capture something so well? The canvas is calling to me, so I walk back across the room and stand in front of it. I know the look in those eyes, it’s the ‘amused but on the verge of whining’ look, one of the last I ever saw…

//It was August, and it was sweltering. I hated it that our stupid apartment didn’t have an air conditioner.

I was hot, I was just home to change clothes on my way from one job to another, and I was late.

“Michael!” she called insistently from the bedroom.

“God! What? I’m late!”

“ Come here,” she whined.

I huffed into the bedroom. She was laying on the bed in a white tank top that was too small to slide all of the way over her swollen stomach, and a tiny pair of pink underwear.

“What?”

“Weren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?” she asks sweetly.

“ God,” I leaned down and gave her a loud kiss on the forehead, “Goodbye!”

“Wait!” her smile was too big. She wanted something, I knew it, and it irritated me.

I didn’t have time for her to be coy. Being late was something that I couldn’t afford. She’d been on bed-rest for the last two months, I’d been working two jobs and taking all of the overtime I could get – I wasn’t in the mood for her silly antics.

“What?!?”

“Can you stop and get me some Chunky Monkey on your way home? Oh, better make it three pints.”

“Those things are like four bucks apiece!”

She furrowed her brow into a pout, and the ‘amused but on the verge of whining’ look came into her eyes…“ Please?”

I stopped for a moment, and realized how ridiculous she looked, and remembered that it was 110 degrees and that she was ready to pop and she was miserable, and gave in.

“All right, all right,” I muttered on my way out the door.

She laughed and called out a “Thank you!”//

Those are the things that can haunt you. Things like that, stupid mistakes. Once, in a movie I heard someone say never to part from anyone without telling them that you love them. That’s something I can understand now.

Nobody knows how I treated her the last time I saw her. Well, it wasn’t the last time, but it was the time that counted. I didn’t get a pillow to put under her knees, or offer her some iced tea – no, I bitched at her for asking for ice cream. I wonder what they’d think? I mean, they must blame me already. I blame myself. But, what would they think if they knew how I’d treated her? The thought made me feel sick, and I turned and practically ran out of the room.

The light was off in my bedroom, but there was light under the door to the bathroom.

“Your fan is broken,” Iz said, hearing me come in.

“Yeah, I know.”

She walked out wrapped in a towel, with her hair piled on top of her head. I know she’s beautiful, but all I can think is how tired she looks. Sitting on the end of the bed, I kick off my shoes. She stands in front of me and leans down into my arms.

It’s a platonic hug. We have the platonic affection, and then we have the other affection. The affection we never discuss, the one that only exists in this room, only when she comes to me, which is about once a week.

She releases me and walks back into the bathroom, and I stand to finish undressing. As I close my closet, she comes out again, and this time when her arms wrap around me from behind I know what she wants.

This is how it’s been for a while. She dates random guys who have pretty faces and say the right things and then dumps them before their bodies are even cold. I don’t understand it, but I understand her. And she knows that, and she understands me. I don’t say anything when she forgets and sighs that other name, and she pretends not to notice when I keep my eyes closed too long. It’s not what you’d call healthy, but somehow it’s helped to make the last few years bearable.

When it’s over, she lays beside me, and I know she’s crying. I look at her and she looks back at me.

“I wonder what happened,” she says softly, “I wonder what he’s like.”

“So do I.”

“Do you think Max will call Liz?” she asks as she takes a swipe at the tears on her cheeks.

“I dunno.”

I won’t touch the Max and Liz topic with a ten foot pole. Too much there.

“Did Kyle say when he’d be back?”

“No.”

Kyle. Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Kyle is the only one who knows about what happens in my bedroom. I’m not sure how he knows, I just know that he does. Actually, I’m beginning to think that she’s sleeping with him too. It disturbs me. Not because I’m jealous, but because I’m worried about her. She’s never had a real relationship since Alex, she either loves ‘em and leaves ‘em or she turns to a fuck buddy. When I think about it, I find myself mimicking Diane Evans, ‘I wish she could find a nice boy to settle down with…’ Nice, not like me. I hate to say it, but not like Kyle either. Nice like Alex, but there is no Alex.

Her breathing is even, and I know she’s asleep. I turn over and punch my pillow and wish that morning would come.

There are no happy endings. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that.

Look at Max and Liz – I thought those two had happy ending written all over them. Wrong. Every time they start to get it together it unravels again. I don’t really think either of them are to blame, the universe is conspiring against them.

Alex and Isabel? Over before it even got started. I suppose it’s stupid to think that a relationship from high school would ever last, but I think there was something there. Something that probably would have taken years to come to maturity, but something. She’s never even come close to giving her heart to anyone else.

Kyle? Loyal, stubborn, Kyle. Who’d have thought he’d be the one to stand by us through thick and thin? And what’s he gotten for it? He was deceived and betrayed by a woman it turns out he did love. And he’s lost two of his best friends in the world. Now, I think he’s sleeping with Isabel, and judging by the way he’s acting, I think he’s getting attached – but I know it’s not going anywhere. He’ll get his heart broken in the end, and although I’d like to warn him, I think he’d rather punch me than hear me out.

And me? Well, at least I have Allie.

Allie.

// I came home at midnight, with three pints of Chunky Monkey and a 12-pack of strawberry soda (one of her pregnancy staples). I’d thrown the ice cream in the freezer, and the soda in the fridge and started discarding my clothes in the hallway before taking a quick shower. It was only after I was dry, and actually climbing into bed that I noticed she was gone. In a flash, I’d flipped on the light, and what I saw scared the shit out of me. The window had been broken, and the room was in shambles.

No. That was my first conscious thought. No.

I called Max first, and then Jim while I dressed. Panicked, I carefully went over the apartment as I waited for them to arrive. None of her things were missing, none of my things were missing. The TV was still in the living room, her jewelry box had been thrown into the corner unopened.

They hadn’t been after anything. Dread swept over me as I realized what it was that they wanted, no whom it was that they wanted – me, they’d been after me, but they’d taken her instead.

Fear ruled as I began to shake and ran over all of the possibilities in my mind. Who was it? Why did they want me? What were they going to do to her?

Some small corner of my mind brought up the hope that maybe she’d just been pissed at me. Maybe she’d torn the place up and gone to Amy’s. I almost called her mother, but didn’t want to alert her, I decided to wait for Max and Jim to arrive, then I’d run over to her house and see if Maria was just hiding there.

Max came first, “You’re sure she didn’t just go home?”

“I don’t think so,” but I was praying she did. “Look, the window is broken. She wouldn’t do that, we can’t afford it.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“Not really. I don’t know. She seemed all right when I left.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t the baby? That she didn’t go somewhere for help? Maybe she went into labor.”

“I don’t know…”

I punched the wall and then sat down on the couch, holding my head in my hands. As if I hadn’t done enough, as if her life wasn’t screwed up enough because of me… Pregnant through her high school graduation, then confined to bed after she started bleeding when she was on her feet too long. Stuck worrying about money and parenthood, and life, not to mention aliens and the FBI…The fights with Amy, moving out, not being able to start school in the fall…God, her life was a living hell thanks to me, and I’d shouted at her when she asked for ice cream. Such a simple thing. Couldn’t I have smiled and said ‘Sure!’?

Jim arrived a few minutes later, “She’s not at Amy’s, I stopped there on my way over.”

The two left me on the couch while they surveyed the damage, and that was when Max saw the blood on the windowsill.//

 

 

 

PART 3

 

 

“Dad, please?

I glanced at Allie in the rear view mirror and gave her the ‘that’s enough’ look. She doesn’t want to be early for school.

“Daaaaad…” she whined.

I turned and looked at her, “ Alexandra, it’s only ten minutes.”

Isabel sighed and looked out the window, and Allie pouted but didn’t argue anymore. She’s a good kid, all I ever have to do is say her real name and she stops arguing – I wonder what I’ll do when that stops working?

I pull up next to the sidewalk in front of the school and she opens the door to get out.

“Allie…” I say softly.

She turns around and gives me a kiss on the cheek, and then she gives Isabel a kiss and hug.

“I love you,” I say as she’s putting her feet on the ground.

She doesn’t look up, but she knows I’m waiting, so she mumbles, “Luvyoutoo,” before closing the door

We watch her until she’s inside the school and then we’re on our way to the airport. Isabel and I are comfortable with silence, neither of us is big on ‘chit chat’.

As we make our way down the concourse, I realize just how long it’s been since I’ve seen him. Nearly ten months. A long time. At least he contacted us right away this time. When he left a few years ago, he was gone for six months and then didn’t get in touch with us for two weeks after he got back.

It’s strange to be picking him up at the airport, I could almost pretend that he’s just been out of the country. Isabel sits in a chair near the door of the appropriate gate and I sit beside her. No need for words, I know what she’s feeling. She’s happy, but she’s nervous because she’s not exactly sure what has happened or what will happen.

The plane arrives and the passengers begin shuffling off. We both stand and look down the hallway, waiting for a glimpse of them.

I see them first, and I nudge her arm. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in months, but he has a small smile on his face when he catches my eyes. Next to him, I can see the top of a blonde head, but there are people in the way and I can’t make out anymore. When they finally walk out the door and over to us, Isabel launches herself at him. She’s crying, and so is he.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I look down at the blonde boy in front of me. His eyes are blue and piercing, and he doesn’t smile – I get the feeling that he’s examining me. I raise my eyebrows at him and try to smile, but this just makes him furrow his brow more, so I give up and turn back to Max.

Isabel is turning to the boy and smiling at him.

Max looks at me, and his eyes are sad for a moment almost as if he pities me or something. I hug him briefly, making certain to do the manly back slap and end it in under 3 seconds.

“Do you know who I am?” Isabel asks the boy.

He nods at her coolly, as if her question was irritating or insulting, I’m not really sure which.

“Well, how is everyone?” Max asked.

“Fine,” I say, staring at the boy.

“Allie?”

I turn back to look at Max, “Oh, she’s great. She’s in school.”

Max laughs softly and looks at the boy, who is not responding to the hug Isabel is giving him. I don’t know what to say. Obviously the kid is a little weird - well, who wouldn’t be under the circumstances – but still…

“Jak?” Max speaks softly to the boy.

“Yes?” his voice is childlike, but his tone is mature.

“I’d like you to meet Michael.”

“Rath,” the boy says.

“No,” Max smiles and shakes his head slowly, “ Michael.”

He looks at me and scowls, and I’m trying to keep in mind that this is my best friend’s son.

“How’s it goin’?” I say trying to be friendly, well, as friendly as I get.

Jak stares at me for a moment and then looks up at Max, “I want to leave this place.”

“Ok,” Max says, and I’m wondering how he can be so patient. Then again, if someone had taken Allie away from me, and I’d been looking for her for 8 years and had just gotten her back I might be a little lenient too.

It was a frightening thought, and naturally it occurs to me that it nearly happened.

//A week after she disappeared, I was on the verge of losing my mind when Max found a message from Nicholas on the dashboard of the jeep.

The little prick was back, and his note sent chills down my spine, it read: “I’ll make an exchange. Meet me at the rock quarry, tonight 10 pm – Nicholas”.

We went, and he confirmed that he had Maria, but the deal was the three of us in exchange for her. Max did the talking, he told me if I valued her life I’d let him handle it, and I did. He told us we had a week to think it over, that Kivar would get us one way or another, and told us how to contact him. That was when absolute pandemonium set in, and we had to send everyone into hiding for fear they’d be used as pawns.

The Evans, they had to be told. Amy had to be told. The Parkers had to be told. It was terrifying. I was scared to death for Maria, and I was worried about everyone else, and I had no idea what we were going to do to get her back. I couldn’t ask Max and Iz to give themselves up to Nicholas, I just couldn’t. We tried everything to find out where he was keeping her, Isabel tried dream walking, none of it worked.

After a couple of days, I contacted Nicholas on my own. I tried every argument I knew, as I pleaded with him, “Isn’t one better than none? Isn’t killing me enough to boost your people’s morale for a while?” Amazingly, Nicholas had agreed, and I said my good-byes to everyone.

Max and Isabel insisted on coming with me to meet Nicholas. At first, I resisted, but Jim had explained hostage exchanges to us, and told me I needed someone there to make sure Nicholas lived up to his end of the bargain.

The day of the exchange, I told him to let us see her, as Jim had instructed. He gave us some crap about taking me with him and then sending her later. I’d have gone, I’d have done anything, but Max stopped me, told me it would be a waste – the look on his face told me he thought she was already dead.

I was frantic, so we followed Nicholas after he left, followed him to his underground compound in the desert.

I couldn’t wait, I was afraid Nicholas would kill her now that the deal was off, so I went in, they followed me for a while, but then someone finally spotted us and Max and Iz got stuck holding them off.

It felt like I searched for hours through dimly lit concrete tunnels, but I knew it was only a few minutes. Amazingly, I found her, in a room with two large swinging doors. She was inside a glass cell, lying naked on a hospital bed, and her feet were tied up in stirrups. It was obvious that she wasn’t pregnant anymore. There was blood everywhere, between her legs and on her stomach, and there was a large red pool of it beneath her on the floor.

At first I thought she was dead, but then when I started trying to open the door, she looked up at me. I could hear her weak voice over a speaker above my head. The room was sound proof, but someone had left the speaker on.

“Over there,” she said, and pointed into the room I was in. I turned and for the first time saw the sleeping baby lying in an incubator in the corner.

“I need to get you out first!” I said and stood back, holding my hand up to open the door. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. I couldn’t feel anything, no energy, no surge, nothing. Now I was terrified. This had happened once before. “Did they use one of those devices? Like Brody had?”

She was staring at me oddly, and she motioned at her ear, “I can’t hear you.”

Frantically I searched the room, for either the device or a two-way speaker switch but never found one. In fact, nothing in the room was written in English. Finally, I’d taken a chair and started beating on the glass with it, but didn’t make a so much as a scratch.

It was like those nightmares, when the bad guys are on your tail, and you just can’t run fast enough. I couldn’t get her out, I couldn’t figure out what to do, and I knew the bad guys were probably on my heels.

The baby had started to cry, and suddenly alarms started going off everywhere and the building started to shake.

“Go,” she said, “get out of here.”

“No! I won’t leave you!”

She didn’t have to hear me to know what I was saying, weakly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and pointed at the baby, “Go! Now! Before it’s too late!”

I was shaking my head and beating on the glass again, I couldn’t leave her. Then, a piece of the ceiling fell to the floor a few feet from the baby. Suddenly, I was paying attention to the now screaming infant who was vulnerable to a falling ceiling, and ran to the corner to pick it up. I didn’t even know how to hold a baby. Careful to keep the blanket tight, I picked it up and went back to the glass wall, cradling the bundle the best I could in my left arm.

“Dammit, Michael, if anything happens to that baby I will never forgive you. Now GO!”

The shaking was getting worse, and the lights blinked off for a few seconds. I couldn’t leave her.

I couldn’t.

“Michael!” she screamed when the lights came back on. “Go! The baby, go!”

She threw herself back onto the bed and stared at me, enraged, as the rumbling continued and another piece of the ceiling fell.

I was paralyzed, my free hand pressed against the glass, staring at her, trying to come up with a way to get her out.

"Go, go, go," she was moaning. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and her face was full of agony. Turning her head to the side, she spotted the instrument tray on her right, and reached for a scalpel.

Holding it to her own throat she screamed at me, her eyes crazy and terrified and desperate, “If you don’t take my baby out of here right now, I’ll do it! I swear to GOD! GO!”

I was shaking my head. This couldn’t be happening, I couldn’t be this helpless, the baby was crying louder, things were falling apart…

Another violent quake, and she pushed the blade into her neck slightly, drawing blood. There was something wild in her eyes, and I knew she would do it.

It was something primal, she’d actually kill herself to save the baby.

So, after giving her one last glance, I ran. I thought I could give the baby to Iz and Max and then come back for her.

Running down the corridors, I re-traced my steps to where I’d left them, but they weren’t there. So I continued on the way that we’d come in, hoping to run into them somewhere around the next corner, but I never did. It was as I was running up the steps to the outside that I heard it. The whirring. I’d heard it before. With everything that was in me, I sprinted up the steps and emerged just in time to see the craft launch.

Iz and Max pulled up in the jeep and told me to get in. I was about to hand the baby to Isabel and go back for her, but then I felt it, a sudden ripping pain inside my head. I knew what it meant, and so instinctively I jumped in the passenger side, cradling the baby. Max had barely started to drive again when it blew. There was an enormous fireball above the compound, and then the ground above it started to cave in.

We drove for ten miles before we stopped on a ridge overlooking the valley. There was a gaping, rubble filled hole where the compound had been. I handed the squalling infant to Max and said, “Make sure it’s all right,” then I’d stumbled out of the jeep and fallen to the ground, puking.

She was gone, I knew it. I’d felt it right before I got in the jeep. A horrible pain in my head. I’d never realized that I felt her there, didn’t know until she was gone. Her presence wasn’t as strong as those of Max and Isabel, but it had been there.

Wretching, I ground my face in the dust, and screamed her name over and over…//

“Michael? Michael.”

Isabel’s voice startles me and I look at her. She’s staring at me, and I realize I’m sitting behind the wheel of the car in the airport parking lot.

“Oh, sorry,” I mumble as I shove the key in the ignition.

Max is in the back pointing out the sights to a less than impressed Jak.

“So, Jak,” Isabel turns around, “I was thinking that you could sleep on the couch and your dad could have my spare bedroom.”

Jak just stares at her and Max clears his throat, “Actually, Iz, I was kind of hoping we could stay with Michael.”

I’m a little surprised, so it takes me a moment to respond, “Uh, sure. I don’t know what I’ve got those extra bedrooms for anyway.”

Isabel leans back into her seat with a quiet, “Oh.”

She’s upset, I know, but Max must have his reasons. Not that we’re privy to those very often anymore.

 

 

 

PART 4

 

 

“Dad,” Allie whispers as she crawls up on the couch beside me.

I look down at her, and she takes a quick glance around the room. If I didn’t know it would hurt her feelings, I’d laugh. This is some sort of covert operation, I can tell.

When she’s satisfied that no one is around she looks at me and scrunches up her nose, “Jak is really weird.”

I’m trying not to smile, and I know I should probably say something stupid like ‘no he’s not’, but I make it a habit to be straight with her, “Yeah, I noticed.”

“He told me to tie his shoes for him.”

“Tie his shoes? Maybe he doesn’t know how.”

“No, he knows how, because he did it when I wouldn’t. He told me to do it for no reason, he said, ‘You there! Re-connect the laces of my footwear’. I didn’t even know what he was talking about, but he was pointing at his shoes.”

I should probably be amused, but I’m a little irritated. Nobody, including the prince royal, orders my daughter around like she’s their servant. They've only been here for a few hours, and already we're both sick of him.

“Just ignore him,” I say turning back to the book in my hands.

“Well, how long are they gonna’ be here? ‘Cause he’s gettin’ on my nerves.”

That’s a question I don’t know the answer to, “I don’t know.”

“Do I still have to be nice to him?”

“What do you think?”

“Um, no?” she smiles sweetly, and my heart almost breaks. Different face, same expression.

“Allie…”

“Ok, ok. Why does Max look so weird?”

“You noticed that?” I look down at her, and she nods. “I don’t know to tell you the truth. Maybe he’s just sad that he hasn’t had Jak with him all these years.”

“Where was Jak?”

“With his mom,” I can’t exactly tell her the truth, “sort of.”

“He said his mom is dead.”

Now I’m curious. I haven’t gotten any of the details out of Max yet. I suppose it’s possible that she’s dead.

“Well, I don’t really know if she’s dead or not.”

“He said he never knew her, just like me.”

“Oh,” I said softly. That’s news. I’d always assumed Tess had him with her. I’m really going to have talk to Max.

“Are you sure that Max knows how to be a dad?”

Now I am smiling, “He’ll probably figure it out.”

“I don’t think so,” she glances around again to make sure we’re still alone, “I told him what Jak said, and he told me to just do whatever he told me. That he’s used to being obeyed.”

I don’t really like the sound of that, “Max meant that you should ignore him.”

“I don’t think so,” she sing-songed. “Dad, if I told someone to tie my shoes you’d give me ‘the look’ and tell me to do it myself, you wouldn’t tell the other person to do it for me.”

She’s right, and I don’t want to contradict her, “Yeah, that’s probably what I’d do.”

“So, see…Max doesn’t know how to be a dad.”

Actually, she’s got a point if that’s what really happened, but I can’t very well say that, “Allie, all dads are different.”

Hopefully that will get me out of it. She’s eyeing me, she knows evasive answers mean ‘subject closed’.

“Uh huh. What’s for supper?” she asks, hopping to her feet.

“Haven’t thought about it yet. What do you want?”

“Hamburgers.”

“Don’t have hamburger buns.”

“Spaghetti then.”

“Don’t think we have any spaghetti either.”

“Pizza?” she smiles.

“Yeah, ok, go get me the phone.”

***

Allie and I aren’t much for dinner conversation, so when Max moves on to his fourth topic I start to get a little annoyed. I can see what he’s doing, he’s trying to make this seem like a normal family meal. If he wanted normal, he probably should have stayed with Isabel.

“So, Allie, how do you like school?” Max asked, his smile a little too broad.

“Fine,” she says over a bite of pineapple and jalapeno pizza.

“Made a lot of friends?”

“Not really.”

“What do you think of your teacher?” Max’s happy grin is starting to look a little tight.

She shrugs and dips her pizza in the pool of Tabasco she has on her plate. You’d think that being half human she’d like it less than I do, instead she likes it more.

“Michael, how was that show last year?”

“Fine,” I say, taking a gulp of grape soda, wishing he’d shut up and let me eat.

“Got plans for another one soon?”

“Not really.”

“Have you been getting much work done lately?”

I shrug. Please God, let him shut up for five minutes.

Jak decides to speak up, pointing across the table at Allie, “I dislike that one. She has a facial abnormality.”

I let my soda can hit the table with a resounding thud and look over at Max. He’s staring at the kid, with a worried look on his face, “Jak…”

“There it is again,” Jak pointed at her, and I looked over just in time to catch her sticking her tongue out at him.

“ Alexandra.”

“Yeah?” she’s suddenly extremely interested in her food, and her tone is sheepish.

“Apologize.”

“Sooooorrrrrrry, Jaaaaak,” she draws out the words as she rolls her eyes.

Trying not to laugh, I stuff a bite of pizza into my mouth and nearly choke. Thankfully, Allie didn’t see it. Max did though, and he looks a little amused.

After both of the kids are in bed, I push Max into the living room.

“All right, tell me everything. I’m not gonna’ wait around for months while the information slowly dribbles out.”

He looks at me, and I know he’s a little surprised. I think he almost looks a little frightened.

“Well, Michael, it’s over. Everything. The war – over.”

“When did you finally get him back?”

“About a month ago.”

“He wasn’t with Tess?”

“No, not exactly,” he seems lost in thought for a moment, then starts to speak again, “they were raising him on a base. That’s why we had such a hard time locating him.”

“Is Tess dead?”

“No.”

“Why does he think she is?”

“Because that’s what they told him.”

“Where is she?”

“Here.”

“ What?!?” I’m nearly on my feet before I stop myself.

“Calm down. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what she’d tell you. She doesn’t know where I live, does she? Or Iz or Kyle?”

“Michael, you’re going to have to trust me, she’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“Why did you bring her back with you?”

“It was the only thing to do,” he states simply.

“So, just like that – hey, past forgotten.”

“No. It’s not as bad as we thought it was, Michael.”

Either he’s gone looney tunes or my hearing is going.

“Maxwell, she killed Alex. Alex. Remember? Your friend and mine. The incident that turned Isabel into a walking, talking iceberg. Not to mention what she did to you and Liz. How is it not bad?”

“Michael, it just isn’t. There was some mind control involved, and she’s changed. Just trust me, please,” he looks off to the side, and he looks almost forlorn when he turns his eyes back in my direction. “I’ll make sure you never have to see her. She’ll never be an issue.”

He’s not telling me anything specific. I wish I had the right to force him, but I don’t. It’s sort of an unspoken truth that I lost a lot of my say-so in all things alien when I didn’t go back with him three years ago. I don’t think that it’s because he resents me for it, I think it’s just because he has a much better understanding of the situation than I do. Doesn’t make it any easier though, I hate being kept in the dark.

“Kivar?”

“Dead.”

“Nicholas?” I don’t even attempt to disguise the venom in my voice.

“Presumed dead.”

Not good. I want proof that the slippery little bastard has breathed his last.

“How 'presumed'? Have you got somebody looking into it?”

Max rolls his eyes just slightly, ok so maybe he does resent me a little.

“Michael, of course I’ve got somebody looking into it,” he’s barely keeping a civil tone. His eyes narrow, and he mutters, “Maybe you should go handle it yourself.”

“Yeah, maybe I should,” I retort, knowing I should just let it go.

If he wants to resent me, that’s fine, but I’ve got my own responsibilities. I did everything I could to help here. Jim, Kyle, Isabel and I eliminated the last fragments of Kivar’s force on earth while he was off looking for Jak. Not like I didn’t do my part, and not like Jak wasn't his first priority.

“All right,” he sighs, “that was out of line. I’m sorry, I’ve just been a little tense.”

Uh huh. I’ll let it go, but I don’t know if I’ll forget it. Next subject.

“So, what about Jak? He was raised with the silver spoon I take it.”

“Yeah,” Max sighs.

“He seems to have adapted to earth pretty easily.”

“Well, he’s been around humans most of his life.”

“What do you mean? They had him here on earth?”

“No. Kivar kind of quit returning his abductees a couple of decades ago.”

“What, you mean he took humans back with him and kept them there?”

“Yeah.”

“And, Jak was raised with them?”

“Yeah,” he sighs again, and I can see there’s more to this story.

“What?”

“They were his slaves, Jak’s. Even Tess. He didn’t know who she was, but he saw her all of the time.”

“Geez, well, can you bring them back?”

“I did.”

“Oh. Where are they?”

“Well, depends on where they were from and what they wanted to do.”

“What do you mean ‘where they were from’?”

“Most were Eastern Europeans, there were a few South Americans, the rest were from the US.”

“So, you’ve sent them home.”

“Mostly.”

“How many were there?”

“About seventy.”

“ God.”

“I know,” he nods wearily.

“But some of them were there for twenty years?”

He nods his head, and his eyes seem old, like they’ve seen enough for ten lifetimes, “Some of them don’t want to go home again. They’re changed.”

“So, if Tess is here, are you going to share Jak with her?”

“No. I don’t think she’s interested in that. It’s obvious that she cares about him, but she’s changed too. They’re all changed. They were enslaved. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“So, there are others with her? Others that didn’t want to go back to their homes?”

“A couple.”

“Where are they?”

“I left them in Roswell.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“They’ll be fine,” he says sharply, apparently his majesty isn’t in the mood to be questioned.

“If you say so,” I take a deep breath, this one I really am going to let go.

He sighs and puts his head into his hands for a moment, “I don’t know what to do with Jak. I don’t know if he’ll ever be happy here.”

“I’ve noticed he has some, uh, problems.”

Max looks at me angrily for a moment, but he knows I’m just telling the truth, “I’m going to get a place here I think. I don’t want him in Roswell, I know he’ll stick out much more there.”

“Yeah. You know, he wouldn’t exactly stick out in New York either.”

He looks at me, knowing what I mean, and he shakes his head wearily. Well, I’ll leave that up to Isabel then. That’s as close as I’ll come to mentioning Liz.

“How do you do it?”

I’m not sure what he’s talking about, “Do what?”

“Be a father.”

“I don’t know. You just do it.”

“I feel like everything I do is a mistake.”

“Well, you kinda’ got thrown into a sink or swim situation. So, I guess that’s a normal feeling. You know, when you’re there from the beginning the tough stuff comes on slowly so you learn how to handle it."

He nods, and looks down at his hands. Something about his manner seems hopeless.

Now I feel sorry for him, so stupidly I open my mouth again, "Not that I’m holding myself up as a model father or anything. Look at Allie, I mean, here she is only – well as of next week – seven, and she doesn’t really even laugh anymore.”

He gives me a confused look. I’m a little surprised by what I just told him, so I’m glad when he glosses over it. Not really in the mood to go into my multiple failures as a parent.

We both wander off to bed without much more being said, and I wonder how it must feel to be in his position. I remember how I got my act together with the whole fatherhood thing, it wasn’t exactly textbook.

//For the first few days of her life, Allie stayed with Amy.

I didn’t even know she was a girl until a day after we’d found her. The families had all stayed in hiding for a few more days while Max contacted Larek and tried to find out if Nicholas was back on the home planet. When the message came that he was, everyone came out of hiding.

I didn’t speak to anyone for nearly a week after that, somehow managing to avoid them, until Amy caught me outside her house one night.

“Michael,” Amy said as she opened the window of Maria’s old room.

“Yeah?” I whispered, taking a step backwards, wishing I hadn’t been staring up at the stars so she wouldn’t have caught me off guard. I’d been there every night for a week, but I must have gotten careless.

“You could come inside you know.”

I looked pointedly at the baby asleep in the bassinet in the corner, “I don’t want to wake her.”

“She’s already awake.”

“Oh.”

“Come inside.”

The look on her face told me it was more of a command than a request, so reluctantly I climbed through the window. Silently, I watched as Amy picked up the baby and held her out to me.

Slowly, I began backing away, shaking my head, “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You won’t hurt her. Isabel told me you were the one who carried her out, so you know you can do it.”

I put my hand on the window, “I’ll just keep an eye on things from outside.”

“Michael.”

The stern tone of her voice was enough to make me pause.

“You are this baby’s father. You are the only parent she has. You cannot watch her from outside a window for the rest of her life.”

“Yeah, I can. That way she’s safe,” I say, trying to keep my eyes on Amy, and not on the baby who was stretching her arms with her tiny fingers curled in a fist.

Amy looked like she was ready to give me a thrashing, but I stopped her before she could speak.

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but there isn’t anybody else. I’ll give you all of the money you need, and I’ll always be right here. I won’t let anybody hurt her, I promise.”

“ You’ll hurt her. If you do that, you will hurt her,” she looked at me, her conviction unwavering.

For a moment, I pondered her words. Nobody knew better than I did what it was like to grow up without parents, but then I looked down at the helpless baby in her arms, and my resolve returned, “I ruined Maria’s life. I killed her. It’s all my fault. I don’t want that to happen again,” I pointed at the baby, “I can’t undo the fact that she’s related to me, or the fact that someone may try to hurt her to get to me, but I can promise to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

With that, I’d gone back outside through the window and stared back inside. I knew I wasn’t expressing myself well, and from the look on Amy’s face, I knew she thought I was immature. She didn’t understand, she didn’t know what it was like to be the reason that someone you loved was dead. So, I stood outside the window for the rest of the night just like I had for the previous seven nights and then went home and slept in the morning.

When I woke, it was to a baby crying. I rolled over on the bed and looked down at the floor to see the baby, my daughter, lying in a baby carrier.

“Hey!” I said sharply, putting my feet down next to the carrier and quickly walking into the living room. I saw a shadow outside, and knew it was Amy. She ran off, and I was left with the baby. It took me a while, but I finally figured out that she was hungry after I’d tried changing her diaper and talking to her. At least Amy had the foresight to write down detailed directions on how to do everything.

I didn’t have a car, just my bike, so I couldn’t take her back. No one I called would answer the phone or return my messages. I knew what they were trying to do, and it pissed me off, it was a group effort to force me to do something I didn’t want to.

But it worked. Two days later, they couldn’t have gotten her away from me if they’d tried. I finally decided that the best way to protect her was to be with her 24/7, and so that’s what I did.//

 

 

 

PART 5

 

 

It’s Saturday morning, and Allie and I are sitting on the couch with a box of cereal between us watching cartoons, like we always do.

Max has been up for a while, and he’s pacing around the kitchen, occasionally wandering upstairs to see if Jak is awake yet.

Hearing him sigh for what seems like the hundredth time, I look over the back of the couch and into the kitchen at him, “Just go wake him up.”

“What if he’s tired?” Max asks.

“You can’t let him sleep all day, he went to bed twelve hours ago. Just go wake him up, if he’s tired, you can have him take a nap later.”

For a minute, he seems to ponder what I’ve said, and then wordlessly he walks out into the hall and climbs the stairs, and returns with the boy a few minutes later. He listened to me, and I can hardly believe it, so I decide to pay careful attention to the TV when he walks back into the kitchen.

“Michael, uh, what have we got for breakfast?” Max calls at me.

“I dunno,” I reply, glancing into the kitchen briefly to see a very unhappy looking Jak, staring at a nervously smiling Max. “There’s cereal in the pantry, and I’ve got eggs and bread and stuff.”

“Thanks,” Max calls back less than sincerely.

“He better not eat my Frosted Flakes,” Allie says under her breath as she hears Max announce to Jak that they’re having cereal for breakfast. She looks a little more tired than usual, that must be why she's in a bad mood.

“I heard that,” I say looking down at her.

“Sorry,” she mutters as she makes a face and turns back to the TV.

A few minutes later, Isabel walks in the back door. Allie and I call a greeting from the couch and she calls back, but stays in the kitchen with Max and Jak.

Allie gets up on her knees and turns to look back at them, so I look too. Max and Iz are sitting at the table with Jak, and they’re carrying on a conversation and trying to include him. It’s something about parks, and playing, and fun, but I’m missing most of it. Jak looks like he could care less what they’re saying and only looks up from picking at his cereal to give them condescending looks occasionally.

Resting her chin on the back of the sofa, Allie looks at me out of the corner of her eye, “Maybe he’d like to go to the beach?”

I know who’d like to go to the beach, and I give her a look that says so. She sighs disappointedly, and we turn back to watch the mini-drama in the kitchen.

***

“I think you should call her.”

“It’s not that simple, Isabel.”

“It is that simple, Max.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

I’ve heard enough, they’re going around and around and getting nowhere. I jump to my feet, “Anybody want something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Isabel gives me a look that’s probably supposed to mean something, but I have no idea what.

“I’ll take a soda,” Max says as he leans back into the sofa and runs his hand through his hair.

Did I just see gray? Dammit, Max has gray hair.

As I get the sodas, I keep my eye on the two of them - Isabel with her plastic exterior, and Max with his broken look. For the first time in years, I wonder what I look like. Am I as changed as they are?

Here we are again, just the three of us, well, with a few offspring thrown in. Of all of the places I expected us to end up, in my living room arguing about why Max still isn’t with Liz while his son is asleep upstairs and my daughter is in her room playing with clay just wasn’t ever one of my scenarios.

I’m just about to sit down in my easy chair when Max stands and announces he has to go check on Jak who went to sleep right after supper.

After he was out of the room, Isabel turned to me, “He needs some sort of normal life.”

“Max?”

“Jak.”

“Oh.”

“Well,” she raised her eyebrows, “Max too. I just thought maybe if he got Liz involved...”

“Yeah…I don’t really know, Iz…”

“He’ll never be happy without her,” she stated simply.

I can’t really disagree, but I don’t want to encourage her to get wrapped up in what I suspect is a lost cause, “I don’t know why you let it bother you so-.”

“Because,” tears fill her eyes, and she looks at me with more true emotion than I’ve seen in years, “Liz is still alive. Does it matter what their problems are? God, at least she’s still alive.”

My jaw tightens and I have to look away from her. I’d never thought about it that way, but for a few minutes her logic made sense to me. How dare they throw away their chance at happiness? At least they had a chance, which was more than we had…it almost seemed like some bizarre betrayal. Those weren’t really rational thoughts, though. It was their life to live and fuck up as they chose.

“I’m not getting involved,” I tell her, hoping she’ll drop it, or at least wait until I’m not around to approach Max again.

Surprisingly, she answers me by bursting into tears. It isn’t long before huge sobs are wracking her body, and I’m doing my best to comfort her. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her break down like this.

No matter how well she conceals it, she still aches for him. I can relate.

***

I close the book I’ve been reading to her and toss it onto the bookshelf.

“Goodnight,” I whisper, as I start to turn toward the door.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” Allie says, looking up at me with big brown eyes from underneath the sheet I’ve just tucked up under her chin.

“You have to sleep,” I say frowning down at her.

Slowly she shakes her head. Occasionally she protests bedtime, but it’s been a while, and it’s normally because she wants to play or eat or watch cartoons.

“I can’t, Dad.”

“Yeah, you can,” I reply, moving again to leave.

“Please?” her voice is soft, and sounds very young again. She’s been sounding so much older lately.

Turning to look at her, I see tears in her eyes. Those eyes…hers, but not hers.

“Allie,” I try to sound firm, “you have to go to sleep.”

“Daddy…?” her little chin starts to quiver, and she’s pulled out ‘Daddy’ something I only hear rarely now. She’s getting to me, she never cries.

“What is it?” I sit back down on the bed beside her, reminding myself that she really does need to go to bed.

She stares at me for a while, and then she puts on a fake smile. The brave smile. What’s she got to be brave about?

“What is it? Are you sick?” my hand reaches out instinctively for her forehead. She’s never been sick a day in her life, like me when I was a kid. In the back of my mind, there’s always been a fear about her strangely mixed DNA, and I’m beginning to get worried. This isn’t like her.

“I had a bad dream last night,” she says, somehow holding back the tears that were threatening to spill. I wish she’d let them spill, I know little kids are supposed to cry.

“A nightmare, huh?” I’m trying to keep my voice even, I don’t want her to know I’m worried, I don’t want to scare her.

“Yeah,” she nods, and puts on the brave smile again.

“Ok, stay here, I’ll be right back,” I pat her hand awkwardly, and quickly leave the room.

This isn’t a ploy, and I know it. Something scared her, and I’m wondering why she didn’t wake me up when she had the nightmare last night.

Popping my head in the living room, I say goodnight to Max and Isabel who are arguing over what channel to watch. Something about it is strangely comforting, and I stop for a moment to listen to them before running upstairs, grabbing the book off my nightstand and returning to Allie’s room.

She watches me as I come in, and I hold the book up, “I was planning to do some reading anyway, so I’ll just read in here until you go to sleep tonight.”

Her little head nods, as I sit in the worn old rocking chair, and I can feel her eyes on me as I open my book. The chair creaks as I begin to rock, and it reminds me of the early days, back in my apartment in Roswell.

//I came home from Amy’s after my shift at the Crashdown and threw the diaper bag on the rocking chair.

Allie had been crying the whole way home, and I’d been helpless from the front seat, only able to watch in the mirror as she screamed in the back, her tiny hands clenched into fists.

Plopping the carrier down on the bed, I quickly unsnapped her, and lifted her into my arms, trying to make her calm down.

“Shhh…” I made the sound over and over. Amy always murmured things to the baby when she cried, like ‘Grandma’s here, Grandma loves you, Grandma knows’. Eventually, Amy would just give up and hand her to me.

All I could ever say to her when she cried was ‘Shh…’ with the occasional ‘don’t cry’ thrown in. I figured it was more the tone than the words anyway.

Normally, she stopped crying not long after I picked her up. What I’d heard on the car ride home was the ‘upset’ cry, I knew it well, so I simply paced with her, holding her up against my shoulder and patting her back softly to re-assure her. It’s amazing what you can learn in the space of a month. She wasn’t quite six weeks old, and I already knew everything about her. Everything. I knew what every face she made meant, I could hear her starting to cry before she even knew she was starting herself, I even knew exactly where to touch her nose to make her ‘coo’. She fascinated me.

In all of the time Maria had been pregnant, I’d never really stopped to consider what it was to be a parent. I knew how much money it would take, and I read about which car seat to buy, and what stroller was the best, and all of that, but the actual everyday reality of it had never occurred to me. Maybe it’s because I wouldn’t have been doing most of the things I did if Maria had been there. Or, maybe that’s because I was never excited that the baby was coming. At first, when we found out, I was just scared, then I got really obsessed with logistics, after that when Maria started bleeding and could hardly leave the apartment I stopped really thinking of the baby at all.

Maria had been excited, though. Not at first, but after a few months, right before graduation, she really started to get into it. I just wrote off everything she did and said to hormones, emotions, and just the general fact that she was Maria.

One day in late May, she’d shown up on my doorstep and dragged me out to help her with something. She had an old second hand rocking chair strapped to the roof of the Jetta, and she was babbling about how important it was to have a rocking chair when you had a baby. I’d made some comment about rocking chairs being much better for babies when they weren’t covered in lead paint, and she’d just laughed and told me to ‘wave’ it away.

The rocking chair sat in my bedroom. I’d ‘waved’ the old layers of paint and varnish away, but she’d insisted that I put the varnish on myself.

As I stood there, trying to calm my crying baby, I stared down at the chair her mother had bought for her. I hadn’t sat in it since I’d finished fixing it up in the summer. Taking a deep breath, I cleared away the diaper bag, and my basketball and sat down in it and started rocking.

Before I even knew what was happening, Allie had stopped crying, and was laying against my shoulder, her breathing still uneven from her tiny sobs, but seemingly content. I was all she had. Well, maybe not all she had, but I was the one she wanted to hold her when she cried. It was sort of a revelation. She needed me. Not just for things like food, and clean diapers and clothes. Allie actually needed me.

That was the moment I decided what I was going to do. Sitting there in Maria’s rocking chair, holding our tiny daughter in my arms, I knew that I always wanted to be able to sit down and rock her when she cried. I wanted to be there for her anytime she needed anything.

The next day was Saturday, and I showed up on Amy’s doorstep at 6 a.m. to drop Allie off one last time, and took off for a day trip to Nevada.//

***

I don’t know what woke me in the middle of the night. It wasn’t a noise, and it wasn’t a dream. Just a feeling or something. I opened my eyes to see Allie hovering under the covers, only her eyes peeping out at me, the night light leaving a soft glow on her face and hair.

Glancing at my watch, I realized it was three a.m.

“Allie,” I sat forward and looked at her groggily, “why are you still awake?”

Her eyes dart my way, but she doesn’t say anything. I notice that her hands are gripping the edges of the sheets where she’s pulled them up over most of her face, and her knuckles are white. In an instant, I’m on my feet, and I’m sitting next to her on the bed.

“ Allie,” my hands immediately go to her cheeks and forehead, “are you all right, are you sick?

She’s shivering, but she looks at me and shakes her head. I pull back her covers and reach down for her, pulling her up into my arms. It’s been a long time since she’s let me hold her, but she clings to me now as I cradle her. My chin is resting on the top of her head.

“You need to tell me what’s wrong,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. She’s acting strange, bizarre even, and while she’s not a talker, I’ve never had trouble getting her to answer me before.

Her shivering gets worse, and suddenly I feel a breeze on my arms. Looking up, I notice that the window is open. That’s not right. It was closed when I fell asleep. In fact it’s always closed.

“Allie did you open the window?”

Against my chest, she shakes her head, and curls herself into a tight little ball in my arms.

Sometimes she does things without realizing she does them. Not like she’s forgetful. Her powers are just now beginning to fully develop, and before this point she never realized what she was doing, she just did things. When she was a baby, she was able to keep the mobile above her bed spinning even when it was completely unwound, as a toddler she’d turn the TV channel when I was watching a game to cartoons or Sesame Street, when she was four, I found the bag of M&M’s I hid on the top of the refrigerator on the floor three times before I caught on to what was going on

“Did Max come in and open it?” I ask, grasping at straws, knowing that was unlikely.

“Maybe she opened it,” she whispers.

I’m not sure if I heard her right, “Isabel?”

“No,” she shakes her head, and buries her face in my chest.

Something suddenly seems very wrong, and I’m starting to get pissed at myself. Where are my instincts? Without a second thought, I wave the window down and lock it shut, then quickly stand with her in my arms, running for the room Max is in.

“Max!” I bark as I burst into his room.

He sits up in bed, and is on his feet faster than I can blink, “ What?”

“Get Jak, someone’s been in the house.”

Without another word, he blows past me, and I make a beeline for my bedroom, intending to grab my wallet and keys so that we can get out of there. I find Isabel stretched out, fully clothed on my bed.

“ Isabel! Get up!”

I shift Allie so that her arms are around my neck, and her chin is resting on my shoulder.

“What is it, Michael?” Isabel asks from the bed, obviously disoriented.

“Get up, now,” I say, motioning her toward the door, “someone broke in.”

“Wait, stop, what?” she says, groggily getting to her feet.

“Someone broke in,” I say, trying not to upset Allie, but wanting to hurry Isabel.

“How do you know?”

“The window was open.”

“The window was open,” she repeats acting as though I was crazy.

Max appears in the hall, literally packing Jak over his shoulder. That’s when his cell phone rings. He’s looking at me, and I’m looking at him, and Isabel has laid back down on the bed.

Reaching into his pocket, Max clicks his phone on and as he begins to talk, he walks down the hallway away from me, still packing a now squirming Jak over his shoulder.

I’m wondering when I lost control of this situation. One minute, I’m evacuating my family from a threat of danger, the next everyone is pretty much ignoring me. Isabel is snoring again, and Max is chit-chatting at three in the morning.

For a moment, I stand there planning my next move, kicking myself for not realizing what an easy target we all made. The entire royal family in one house, ripe to be knocked out in one sweep…stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It’s ok, it wasn’t anything,” Max says walking back down the hall.

“Huh?” I ask, turning to stare at him. Who possibly could have called him to say that everything was ok?

Max doesn’t answer me, he seems to have realized the significance of Isabel’s presence on my bed. She seems to feel his gaze, because she opens her eyes and stares back at her brother, not saying a word.

“Wait, hey,” I’m worried, and I’m not going to watch their staring contest, “what’s going on? Max, how do you know it was nothing?”

He convinces me to leave the kids with Isabel, and after taking a sweep of the room to make sure it’s safe, I accompany him outside and we quickly search the perimeter of the house. We spent a lot of years living with real and imagined threats like this, and I can’t believe I’ve let myself get this complacent.

Max is silent, and I know he’s wondering how long Isabel’s been sleeping with me, but he doesn’t ask. Another thing he doesn’t do is tell me how he knows that everything is ok. I’m pissed at him, and I don’t hide that fact – there’s no reason I can think of that I shouldn’t be able know what was or wasn’t a threat to my daughter.

 

 

 

PART 6

 

 

Max drives carefully up to the airport terminal, and pulls over so that we can pile out and grab our gear. It’s Friday night, and Allie’s birthday is tomorrow. I’m taking her to see Amy for the weekend. It’s sort of a thing, we always spend her birthday with Amy. Traveling is a good thing to be doing, it distracts me from dwelling on the fact that the birthday is also the anniversary of the worst day of my life.

The four of us, Max, Jak, Allie and I are standing awkwardly on the sidewalk next to my SUV.

“So, I’ll be here to pick you up on Sunday evening?” Max asks us with a smile.

Allie pulls on her backpack and nods, as if she’s the one with the travel itinerary.

“Yeah, our plane gets in at 6:25,” I tell him.

“Right, and I’ve got the flight details,” Max smiles and holds up the paper he made me write down all of our travel plans and phone numbers on. He’s still totally anal, maybe more so than ever.

“Well, have fun, Allie, tell your Grandma ‘hi’ for me,” Max picks her up and gives her a hug.

“Ok, Max,” She pats him on the back and makes a face at me over his shoulder.

I give her a warning look, and she puts on a fake smile. My being pissed at Max isn’t a reason for her to be rude.

“Yeah, later, Jak,” I say to the boy who is looking around at the crowds with distaste, we’ve learned he doesn’t think much of humans.

I know that he heard me, but he doesn’t acknowledge my presence, let alone my farewell. Shaking my head, I grab the handle of my carry-on and catch Max’s gaze for a second. He knows what I think about Jak’s behavior, and probably thinks the same thing but doesn’t like it that I let my distaste show on my face.

I look at Allie, “Tell Jak good-bye, Allie.”

Her face breaks into a grin, and she drawls out a thrilled, “ Good-bye!”

Quickly, I tap her on the shoulder, and she looks up at me. I narrow my eyes, and she huffs a little and looks down at her feet while she scuffs her shoe on the sidewalk, giving a lackluster, “Good-bye, Jak.”

“Uh, see ya’,” I say as I grab Allie’s hand and make for the doors.

“Have a nice birthday, Allie!” Max calls out to us as we escape into the building.

We’ve got a good five hours of flying ahead of us, LA to Albuquerque, Albuquerque to Roswell, so I try to read while Allie colors. We don’t make this trip everyday, but we do it often enough to have a routine. I think we’re both in a pretty good mood, because the last week with Jak has been one of the longest in both of our lives. ‘Difficult’ barely even touches this kid. Sure, he was raised without parents or friends or anything, and yeah he’s had it rough in a lot of ways, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier to live with him.

When we finally step off the tiny plane onto the runway in Roswell, we’re in surprisingly good moods, considering the annoying trek we’ve just made.

“Allie!”

Looking up, we can both see Amy waiting for us when we walk into the small airport. Immediately she runs over and scoops her granddaughter into her arms.

‘Grandma’ is really an interesting title for someone like Amy. Sure, she’s a little over forty now, but she looks like she’s still in her early thirties. She leans up and gives me a strange smile before planting a kiss on my cheek, then she gets absorbed in Allie.

The drive to her house is made considerably shorter by the barrage of questions Amy throws at us, well mostly at Allie. ‘How is school? Like your teacher? Made any friends? Is recess fun?’ she goes on and on, as Allie pipes up with answers from the backseat.

An hour later, we’re all in the living room talking. Well, Amy’s talking and we’re along for the ride. She’s already pulled Allie’s hair into two perfect french braids finished off with ribbon on the ends, I’ve always marveled at the way Amy manages to tame her hair.

“Allie, time for bed,” I say after I take a look at my watch.

Amy and Allie both give me a disappointed look, but I simply raise my eyebrows, it’s already way past her normal bedtime.

“Ok, sweetie, do you want to sleep in my room?” Amy asks her.

“Yeah!” Allie smiles and jumps up. She adores Amy, and it’s noticeable from the expression on her face that she’s happy here, in this house. That realization gives me a painful feeling in my chest. I know she doesn’t look like that very often when it’s just the two of us.

After she’s tucked Allie in for the night, Amy comes back out to the living room.

“So, how are you?” she asks me as she sits down in her easy chair again, leaning back and giving me a worried look.

I look up from studying my hands and shrug, “Max is back, that’s a relief.”

“Oh, yes, I know,” she smiles at me. “His little boy is adorable.”

I nod. Apparently Amy saw him during his brief stop in Roswell. This reminds me of the conversation Max and I had about the fact that Tess was now somewhere around here. No amount of reassurance about her ‘transformation’ (which I wasn’t allowed to know the details of) could put me at ease.

We sit in silence together for a while, and then I stand, “I think I’m gonna’ get some sleep.”

She nods, but her face holds concern. I know she’d like to say something motherly to me, but she doesn’t, instead opting to give me an understanding smile.

Running a hand through my hair, I turn to walk down the hall toward the shrine.

Maria’s room, untouched by the time. Still the same as the day she packed up and left it in frustration. Everything is just where she kept it. She had to leave a lot of her things behind when she moved in with me. Her stuffed animals, her posters, her bedding. There’s even an old half empty bottle of her perfume on the dresser. Movie stubs stick out of the frame of her mirror from where she stuffed them as keepsakes, and I know that if I open the closet, I’ll still find every piece of her non-maternity clothing hanging just where it was the day she moved out.

As I undress and get ready for bed, I notice subtle differences in the room. Some of the stuffed animals are missing. The necklace that hung from one of the drawer pulls on her desk is gone too. I can’t imagine that Amy has moved to this point. It’s not that she hasn’t dealt with her daughter’s death, she has, but I never thought I’d see the day when she’d want to pack up this room. It seems wrong somehow, and as I lay down in the bed that was hers, I close my eyes and try to sleep, doing my best not to dwell on the desecration of the last place in the world that was still almost purely Maria.

//For a few months after I quit working, nobody said anything. They were curious, I knew, but I wasn’t about to volunteer any information.

Isabel showed up at my door one night with a suspicious look on her face, and her hand on her hip.

“All right, six months with no job, Michael. What gives?”

“Nice to see you too,” I step back so that she can walk inside.

“Well, what is it, then? What are you doing?”

“Think you could maybe keep your voice down? I just got the baby to sleep,” I stall as I walk into the kitchen and resume fixing my sandwich. I don’t know what I’m going to tell her. I can’t say ‘I’ve taken a couple of day trips to Nevada and beaten the house using my voodoo alien powers’.

“ Michael!”

She’s standing in the middle of the living room growing more livid by the second. I open the fridge to pull out some mustard and notice that my sketchbook is laying on top of it. It’s been my only way to deal lately, sketching.

Suddenly, Isabel’s in the kitchen with me, and I can feel her anger. It’s important for her to know that everyone is safe, and I have a feeling that she thinks I’ve been up to something illegal.

“Michael, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me right now, I’ll-.”

“Paintings,” I murmur, as I turn back to making my sandwich.

“What? Paintings?”

“Yeah, I sold some,” I lie as I slap the mustard on the bread.

“Are you serious?” she sounds surprised, but not suspicious.

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she sounds stunned, and is surprisingly speechless.

I simply pick up my sandwich and go plop down on the couch. She watches me closely, and I know she’s expecting me to say something further.

“Anything else you wanted to know?” I ask her over my first bite.

Shaking her head, she joins me on the couch, and picks at a piece of lint on the cushion for a few minutes before speaking, “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Let me have it.”

“How do you do it? Why aren’t you consumed by it?” her voice is soft as she watches me.

Isabel and I don’t discuss our grief, it just isn’t something we do.

“Why aren’t you consumed by it?” I answer her with a question, hoping she’ll drop it.

“I am,” she whispers.

“Me too,” is all I can say as I turn away from her and look at the the last bite of food in my hand.

I know that they think I’m doing well. Everybody always says, ‘you seem to be doing well’. I give them a nod, and a half smile, and I hold Allie a little tighter and let them think what they’d like. Of course I’m not all right, I’ll never be all right again. Isabel understands, she’s the same.

“Alex’s mom called me. She’s going through his things, sending stuff to charity,” her voice breaks a little at this point, but she swallows her emotion. “They want me to go through everything first, see if there’s anything I’d like to have.”

“Oh,” I don’t know what to say. I know she’s had a year longer to heal than I have, but I can’t imagine dealing with something like that.

“What would you do?” she asked me softly.

My mouth is dry as I look at her. She really wants my opinion, because she’s torn and she knows I understand.

“I’d go, and take everything that they want to give away and take it home with me.”

Her eyes are steady on mine. I know what people say about grief, and believe me, I know I’m not healing. I don’t want to. She doesn’t either.

Nodding slightly, she leans forward, and I think she’s going to stand up, but she doesn’t. Her lips brush lightly against mine, and then she leans into me a little more.

When she finally pulls away, all I can do is stare at her. Chaste as it was, there wasn’t anything ‘friendly’ about that kiss, and we both know it.

We stare at each other, literally for minutes. For those few minutes, though, there wasn’t any pain, only confusion. After a while, I reach out for her, and pull her to me. If this is what it takes to get some relief, then so be it.//

I roll over in the bed, Maria’s bed, and fight off sleep. It’s after midnight now, and the anniversary has begun. This is a day when I don’t seek respite. Looking around the room I let her presence overwhelm me, I need the pain.

***

“Happy Birthday,” I say with a smile as I sit down to the breakfast table.

“Thanks,” Allie says, pushing her hair out of her face as she takes a bit of cereal.

Amy insists on doing her hair when she’s here. Allie hates to wear it down, hates to have it in her face, but Amy loves to curl it and let it hang.

“Did you sleep all right?” I ask the question hoping it won’t upset her. She’s been having trouble sleeping since the open window incident.

“Uh, yeah,” she nods without looking up from her bowl of cereal.

The back door opens suddenly, and I’m practically on my feet with my hand raised before I notice that it’s Kyle.

“Hey, Birthday Girl!” he cries, effectively ignoring me as he steps in and grabs Allie out of her chair.

The frilly dress that’s she’s wearing flies around her as Kyle picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, while she giggles. I know without asking that the dress is because of Amy, Allie hates them.

“Uncle Kyle!” she squeals, thrashing to be let down as she tries to control her laughter.

“Hey,” I say to him as he sets her on her feet and ruffles her hair.

“Uh, hey,” he doesn’t meet my eyes, instead watching Allie as she climbs back into her chair and continues eating.

Kyle was visiting Jim when Max got back, and he hasn’t been home since. I’m not sure if he’s staying because of Tess, or the other people that Max left here, but I intend to find out this weekend.

“Kyle, Amy asked me to pick up some stuff for the party, you think you could go with me?” I ask him.

He nods as he starts throwing cheerios into Allie’s hair. She scratches her head a few times before she catches on and starts pulling them out of her now tangled hair to throw them back at him.

“Good morning, Kyle,” Amy breezes in and gives him a kiss on the cheek, there's a much larger grin than I’m used to seeing on her face.

“Uh, ‘morning, Amy,” Kyle returns the mysteriously large smile as they both turn to look at Allie. Things are getting weird, and I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.

***

“Where’s Tess?” is the first question out of my mouth when Kyle and I hop into his dad’s old pick-up truck.

“Uh, she’s at my dad’s,” he says in that jerky, defiant way of his, like it’s none of my business.

“If I catch her near my family, I’ll kill her.”

It’s not an empty threat, I mean every word of it. I’ve got a ‘zero tolerance’ policy when it comes to evil aliens.

Kyle exhales sharply, “She’s changed, Michael-.”

“Don’t care. You guys can take her back and make ‘nice-nice’ with her murderous ass all you want – I catch her near Allie, Amy, or Iz, and she gets it.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and I realize this is probably in reaction to me including Isabel in the threat. Oh well.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then thinks better of it. I’m guessing that she’s not going to try anything, but I thought I’d better send the warning out just in case. With Max refusing to divulge any information, Kyle’s probably my best bet for relaying the message.

I decide to push for more, “So, what’s the little secret that you and Amy have?”

“What?” he turns to me a little too quickly.

“You. Amy. Making funny faces at each other like you’ve got the 4-1-1 on something.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kyle mutters as he pulls into a parking space at the supermarket.

“You don’t, huh?”

“Michael. I love Allie, I wouldn’t keep anything from you that could put her in danger,” Kyle’s tone is angry, but I know that what he says is true, and so I decide to let it go for now.

***

I don’t know why I bring her to this playground every time we come to Roswell. It’s not that I have any particularly vivid memories here, or anything.

“Dad, watch, I’m gonna’ jump,” Allie calls from the swing.

“Uh, ok,” instinctively, I move closer to where she is, just in case.

She jumps off at the full height of the swing and runs a few feet to keep from falling. When she turns around to look for my approval, all I can do is give her a ‘thumbs up’ and hope she never breaks her neck doing it. I forgot about the daredevil games kids learn on school playgrounds, it probably doesn't help that Allie is completely fearless.

Next she’s off to the jungle gym, and I follow at a distance, watching as she pulls herself up and across the bars hand over hand. She’s the only kid out today, so the woman sitting on the bench on the far side of the play area sticks out to me. Her head moves to follow Allie as she drops from the bars to run for the merry-go-round. The woman is a brunette, and she’s wearing big dark sunglasses.

I glance down at my watch, we’ve got about twenty more minutes before we can go back to Amy’s. The party isn’t a surprise, but Amy insisted I get Allie out of the house so she could decorate. At this point, I’d like to go, there’s something about the woman that I find unsettling. I can’t quite make out her face, partially from the distance, and partially because her hair is hanging close into her face just revealing a thin strip of glasses, nose, and mouth.

“Dad!”

I look at Allie, she’s back on the swing and ready to jump again. I walk toward her, then turn again to watch the woman on the bench, but she’s gone.

 

 

 

PART 7

 

 

“…And, then we went to Disneyland-.”

“I want to go to Disneyland.”

“You’ve been twice this year,” I look back at Allie, “and don’t interrupt.”

Max continues on about all of the things he and Jak did over the weekend as we drive away from the airport. I couldn’t care less, really, I don’t know why he feels the need to share. It’s just the silence that he doesn’t like, he seems to feel a need to fill it. Silence is perfectly fine with me.

“…Right, Michael?”

“Huh?” shit, he caught me not paying attention.

“I said,” Max’s voice is strained as he struggles to maintain his smile, “Isabel won’t be happy if we’re late for dinner.”

“Are we going to Isabel’s?” I really should have been paying attention.

“ Yes,” his control is slipping as he glances away from the road to look at me.

“Right…” I nod.

We walk in the door twenty minutes late, and Isabel does look pissed. For some reason the anger is directed toward me, in the form of glares and sneers.

“So, what did you get for your birthday, Allie?” Iz asks as we sit at the table.

“Stuff,” she answers stuffing a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

“Stuff?” Max prompts her.

Allie nods and speaks with her mouth full, “Shtupff.”

“Well, I’ve got your present in the living room, do you want to open it after we’re done eating?” Isabel smiles at her.

More nodding from Allie, this time with a grin as she continues to chew.

“What is a birthday?”

I almost said, ‘It speaks’, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well with Max and Isabel so I just look in Jak’s direction.

Max has a smile plastered on his face, like hearing the boy ask a question is the best thing that’s happened all day, “Well, son, a ‘birthday’ is the anniversary of the day of your birth.”

“When is my birthday?” Jak asks in a monotone. Well, it’s an improvement over his usual tone of condescension.

Isabel looks like she’s on the verge of tears as her fork clatters to her plate. Max is turning a sickly green color. Allie is just watching everybody with eyes as big as saucers, she has no idea of the significance of the moment, but she’s really perceptive about changes in the emotional atmosphere.

“Pick one,” I say.

Everyone turns to look at me, so I take a quick drink of water and shrug, “What? I picked mine. Just let him pick one.”

“Yesterday was my birthday, then,” Jak says firmly.

Isabel and Max let out a sigh of relief.

I look at the kid, “Ok, sounds good.”

“Yesterday was my birthday.”

I look in Allie’s direction, her eyes are narrowed, and she’s glaring at Jak who’s looking back at her with a slight smirk on his face.

“Alexandra.”

She looks in my direction when I say her name. I’m about to tell her it’s not a big deal if Jak wants his birthday to be the same day hers is, when I notice that her chin is quivering. Within about five seconds, huge crocodile tears are slipping down her cheeks from those big brown eyes.

I’m stunned, she doesn’t really get upset like this, she doesn’t cry - well, I mean, sure, she cries, when she’s hurt or something, but never just out of the blue.

“But, Dad,” she’s choking over her silent sobs, “it’s my birthday.”

This is so weird, I don’t know what to say, I’m just sitting here staring at her. Isabel starts patting her back after a few seconds, and whispering things to her.

“Allie…” I know I should say or do something, but I have no idea what.

At the sound of my voice, she takes a deep breath, and her little hands make quick swipes at her cheeks, and she sniffs a few times, then forces herself to eat again. Her shoulders are still shaking slightly from the sobs, but she won’t let herself cry.

Isabel and Max exchange glances, then both look at me, obviously horrified.

Allie hiccups, then speaks, her red-rimmed eyes plastered to her plate, “This rice is really good, hiccup, Isabel.”

***

“ God, Michael, she’s seven,” Isabel hiss-whispers at me.

What, like I don’t know that? Max and Iz coaxed the kids into the living room to watch some crap prime time cartoon I normally wouldn’t let Allie near, and we’re in the kitchen for my whisper lecture.

“I know that, Iz.”

“She shouldn’t be ashamed to cry, Michael,” Max says softly without looking me in the eye.

Guess who I don’t want parenting advice from?

“ Fuck,” I slap the refrigerator, “I know that, and I never told her to be. I’ve never said a word about her crying.”

“She doesn’t laugh anymore, Michael,” Isabel has her hand on her hip, “ everyone has noticed it.”

“When you’ve got kids, Iz, you can criticize.”

That was probably uncalled for. After me, no one knows Allie better than Isabel. If anyone is the surrogate mother-figure, it’s her. It’s even come up a couple of times, making something like that official, and that alone is enough reason for me not to tell her to butt out. Iz deserves a lot better than this, she deserves a lot better than me, but even knowing this doesn’t make me apologize.

“We’re not trying to criticize,” Max says, trying to somehow placate both Isabel and I as we glare at one another, “we’re just worried about her. She’s so much more withdrawn than she was even before I left…”

I know this. I know it’s true, I know it better than anyone, but I don’t know what to do about it.

Isabel is fuming from my ‘butt-out’ remark, “You know what the problem is? You are her role model. She’s turning into you, Michael, and it’s sad.”

She draws in a deep breath and narrows her eyes. Here it comes, I can feel it, someone was bound to say it at some point…

“If Maria were here-.”

“You think I wouldn’t give anything for it to be Maria here instead of me?!?!” I’m practically screeching as I glare at Isabel. “I know she’d be better off with Maria, ok? Believe me, I’d rather be dead.”

“Maybe you should think about letting her spend some time with Amy-,” Max begins.

That’s it.

I’ll be damned if I’ll sit here and listen to this.

Practically running into the living room, I call out, “Allie, we’re leaving.”

***

Allie isn’t really listening to me as I’m reading her bedtime story, but I keep going anyway.

Jak is standing in the doorway listening to me. He and Max walked in about ten minutes ago, I’m guessing that Isabel gave them a ride.

“You already read that.”

I look up suddenly at Jak, then glance at Allie. She’s a little surprised too.

“What?” I ask him.

“You are repeating a portion of the story,” he says staring at me with that disinterested look.

“Uh, sorry,” I look down at Allie, she hadn’t noticed either. I turn back to Jak, “You want to come over here and sit on the bed so you can hear better?”

'Shocked' doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel when he walks over to the bed. Allie sits up and pulls her knees to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs to make room for him. He sits with us, and I continue to read, making sure to pay more attention this time.

When I’m finished with the chapter, I tuck Allie in, and Jak leaves the room without a word. I tell her to go to sleep, then leave her nightlight on, and her door wide open. This is the first time I’ve left her to sleep alone since the window incident. She doesn’t protest, so I feel a little better. Of course, I’m still planning to sleep in the rocking chair, but I won’t tell her that.

Max is putting Jak to bed, so I go downstairs to watch some TV. I suppose I’ll have to speak to him eventually, but I’m not exactly looking forward to it. We’ve also got things to discuss that I learned while I was in Roswell. Somehow all of it is secondary to him telling me I should let Amy have Allie for a while.

//Amy watches me from the other side of her kitchen table.

“You need to get away from here.”

I look down at Allie who’s fallen asleep propped up against my shoulder, she’s nearly a year old.

“Why don’t you take a few months and go somewhere else, I can keep Allie-.”

I silence her with a look. If I go, Allie goes with me. She seems to see that, and she nods.

The memories are stifling me here, and if it were just me, I think I’d be content to just wallow in them, but it isn’t just me. I look down at the baby again.

“Michael, I know you’re doing well with your painting. There’s no reason you can’t do that anywhere you want,” Amy starts up again.

I really dug myself into a hole with the painting story. I’d had to buy art supplies, and even leave unfinished things laying around for show. It wasn’t that bad, now that Allie had a regular sleeping schedule it did give me something to do, but it was a lie just the same.

“If Max leaves, I’ll go somewhere else, there won’t be a reason to stay here,” I whisper finally.

Amy nods. She’s worried about me, I know. I’m all right, though.

“When will he find out if he can go?” she asks me.

“Next week.”

“Are you sorry that you can’t go with him?” her tone is understanding, motherly.

All I can do is shake my head. Of course, I’d like to help Max, and hunt down every one of the bastards who is responsible for leaving my daughter motherless, but what can I do? Allie needs me more, there’s no question of me leaving her. Not for the home planet, and not for anywhere or anything else.//

The sound of the phone ringing pulls me out of my thoughts, but I’m a little too out of it to get to it before someone else does.

I hear Max pick up the phone in the kitchen, “Hello, Guerin residence.”

His formality almost makes me laugh, and I turn from the couch to look at him in the kitchen, when I see his face distort as he whispers, “ Liz?”

Oh crap, I should’ve known she’d be calling. Max doesn’t talk to her long, he mumbles something about giving the phone to me, and practically runs in my direction to do just that.

“Liz?”

“Michael.”

“Uh, hey,” I scratch my eyebrow, and look over at Max who’s watching me carefully from the loveseat.

“Max is back?” her voice sounds tired.

“Yeah…”

“Look, I just called to talk to Alexandra. I knew you’d be out of town for the weekend, and I called earlier, but no one was home,” she’s rushing, obviously not in the mood to talk to me.

“She’s already in bed.”

“Oh. Will you have her call me after school tomorrow? I wanted to wish her a happy birthday.”

“Sure, ok.”

“Thanks,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, and I know she’d like to ask me something, but doesn’t. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ok, bye,” I pull the phone away from my ear and click it off.

Max is still watching me, looking eager, and pitiful all at once. If he weren’t such an idiot, I’d feel sorry for him.

***

Allie’s pretending she doesn’t see me as I stand in the doorway of her classroom. The teacher sees me and waves, so I walk over to her desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Guerin,” the woman smiles up at me.

“Uh, good afternoon.”

The woman nods in my daughter’s direction, “Allie asked me if she could stay to finish her art assignment.”

“She’s the only one?” I ask looking around at the practically empty classroom.

“You see, she finished one drawing, but wasn’t happy with it, and decided to do another. If she feels like she wants to, I usually encourage that,” the teacher says.

I nod, and stand there, waiting for her to finish. She’s been really quiet over the last couple of weeks since we’ve been back from Roswell, and I’m halfway tempted to ask the teacher if she’s noticed anything different about her, but I decide against it. After few more minutes, Allie stands up and walks up to the teacher carrying the paper she’s been drawing on in her hand.

She hands it to the teacher, and the woman smiles and puts a sticker with a blue fish on it on the paper and hands it back to her.

“Here, Allie why don’t you take your first attempt as well?” the woman calls as we’re walking toward the door.

I turn around and take the paper from the teacher's hand without really thinking, and as we’re walking down the hallway toward the door to the parking lot, I look at it.

“Allie?”

“Yeah?” she looks up at me as I stop in the middle of the hallway.

I’ve seen Allie draw before, hundreds of times, thousands of times, but I’ve never seen her do anything as well as she’s done this. That’s not what has me stopped in my tracks, though.

“Who is this, Allie?”

She swallows and glances around the hallway, “Nobody.”

“It looks a lot like somebody.”

“Who?” she looks up at me, like she’s genuinely curious to see who I think it resembles.

“You’re drawing somebody here, Allie, who is it?” I don’t know why she won’t tell me, it’s strange.

“No, I just made her up, Dad.”

I don’t want to accuse her of lying, I might be wrong, she might not know who it is. All I know is that I’m holding a likeness of Maria in my hand. It’s rough, there’s a big scribbled patch on the cheek, and not all of the details are correct, but I know who it is.

***

I’m scouring my picture albums when Isabel walks in the back door. This is only the second time I’ve seen her since the incident at her house, and we haven’t spoken at all.

She makes eye contact with me briefly, then walks out into the hall and climbs the stairs. Kyle’s been back for about a week, and I’m guessing she’s been spending some time with him.

“Dad?”

I look up to see Allie staring at me curiously.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

Trying to figure out what picture she saw of her mother that inspired her drawing.

“Looking at the photo album.”

She gives me an odd look, she’s never seen me do anything like this. Isabel's the one who arranges these things. I'd just let the developed photos sit in boxes.

“Well, what’s for dinner?”

“Hamburgers?”

“Ok, good,” she smiles slightly and turns to leave, but then looks back at me for a moment. “Are you looking at pictures of her?”

Allie doesn’t call her ‘Mom’, in fact, Allie doesn’t call her anything, just her or she.

All I do is nod. She watches me for a moment, then turns and walks away.

“Liz is coming.”

“What?” I look up to see Isabel sitting down next to me. She’s not looking me in the eye, and her tone is terse.

“I said…Liz. is. coming.”

“Why?” I ask her, narrowing my eyes.

“She’s been talking to Kyle, about Jak and everything, and she’s coming. I’m not sure exactly why, but she is,” Isabel looks down at her hands and begins to push back the cuticles of her nails.

“Is she staying with you?”

“No,” Isabel looks off to the left, “she’s staying with Kyle.”

She’s angry with me, and I know that, but I could swear she just got more agitated about what she’d just told me.

“Allie drew this today,” I pulled the picture off of the coffee table and turned it over to show it to her. For some reason I want someone else’s opinion, and if Iz is speaking to me again it should be her.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, narrowing her eyes at the picture, “I-I…this is so strange. Yesterday morning…”

Her voice trails off as she touches the picture with her fingers, and I’m starting to freak out.

“ What, Iz?”

She swallows, then turns to look at me, “Kyle’s. I was leaving Kyle’s place yesterday morning, and I saw a woman across the street, and I had the strangest feeling I knew her, but by the time I’d walked to my car, she was gone.”

“What does that have to do with this?” I gestured at the picture.

“She looked like this. Dark glasses, dark hair at her shoulders, she looked like this,” she turned the drawing back toward me.

“ Fuck!” I quickly jump to my feet and run a hand through my hair.

“What?” she asks me.

“Don’t you see, it’s Tess! She’s mindwarping. First Allie, now you. Fuck!”

“Keep your voice down,” Isabel hisses pulling on my leg, urging me to sit back down, “the kids are going to hear you.”

“Where's Max?” I ask her, brining my voice down to a whisper. Max hasn’t exactly been keeping me apprised of his movements lately.

“At Kyle’s, he left me a message, that’s why I came over to keep Jak company.”

“Take Allie and Jak, go to a restaurant somewhere, and stay there until I call you.”

“Michael. You’re not thinking of going after her,” Isabel shakes her head. “It was probably a coincidence.”

“You know it wasn’t.”

She still looks uncertain, but I’m not. I know something is up, so I grab her arm and pull her to her feet, then call for Allie and Jak. They come running. I tell them Iz is taking them out for dinner, and literally push the three of them out the door. If Isabel was mad before, she’s fuming now, but she’ll just have to deal.

“Be good, and do whatever Isabel tells you,” I tell Allie as she fastens her seatbelt in the back of Isabel’s car.

“Ok,” she nods, looking up for a second with suspicion in her eyes, she knows something is wrong.

“I love you,” I say, smoothing her hair away from her face.

Her head bobs, and she looks up at me with those eyes. Dammit, I couldn’t take it if anything happened to her, whatever I have to do is worth it if it keeps her safe.

“Love you too, Dad,” she says softly, giving me a small smile that looks more like a grimace.

I can’t look at her anymore, I can’t take it, so I glance across the seat to Jak. He looks frightened. I’d sort of forgotten that he’d seen some action during the little altercation on the home world. Suddenly, I’m sorry for not being kinder to him, he’s barely older than Allie.

“Jak, be good for Isabel,” I say.

He nods slowly.

Without looking at Allie, I lean back out of the car and close the door, then turn to Isabel.

“Be careful,” I whisper as she opens the driver side door.

All she does is glare at me as she climbs in. At least she’s going.

 

 

 

PART 8

 

 

“Where is she?” I ask Max as he opens Kyle’s door.

“Wha—?”

I cut him off by pushing past him into the apartment. Kyle is standing in front of his bookcase in the living room looking at me over his shoulder.

Tess is on the sofa, this should be easy enough.

“Michael, what are you—,” Kyle begins to speak as I raise my hand in Tess’s direction.

Better to just get this over with, right? I mean, I can’t let her mess with my family, can I?

Just as I begin to pool some power, Tess looks up in my direction. For the first time, I realize that she didn’t even react to my entrance.

She’s looking at me with hollow eyes, her face shows no comprehension of what’s happening.

Her vacant stare makes me pause for a moment, just enough time for Kyle to come flying through the air and tackle me.

***

“Why didn’t Isabel just tell me Tess had lost it?” I say, feeling irritated as I drive Max home from Kyle’s.

“She doesn’t know,” Max says with a sigh, “we haven’t let her near Tess.”

“Well, I know Isabel’s been to Kyle’s recently, so what did you do, lock Tess in the closet while she was there? And what about Liz? I thought she was staying with Kyle while she’s here, there’s no way she’s gonna’ want to be in the same house as—”

“What?” Max interrupts me. “Liz? What do you mean Liz?”

“Liz is coming,” I’m just repeating what Isabel told me, I thought Max would already know this.

“She’s coming here?”

“Yes, she’s coming here.”

“Oh,” he whispers, leaning back hard in the passenger seat.

Let him worry about Liz on his own time, I’m still trying to figure this out, “So, why didn’t you just leave Tess in Roswell? You can’t tell me that Kyle wants to take care of her indefinitely.”

“After Kyle came home there was no one to leave her with, we had to bring her here,” Max explains, “and, she’s not staying at Kyle’s. We got her a hotel room.”

“You’re leaving her alone in a hotel room?” I shudder, remembering the way she’d stared down at me after Kyle tackled me. Without saying a word, she’d gotten to her feet and started to strip her clothes off. It was weird, bizarre, and insane. Definitely insane.

“She’s not alone,” Max says.

“Who’s with her?”

“We’ve got someone watching her,” his voice raises slightly. I’m guessing that’s his ‘subject closed’ tone. Too bad I don’t buy into his leadership anymore.

“Who is watching her? One of your ‘people’? How many do you have on earth? How many do you have in LA? Can they ensure that she’ll never be a problem? And, what about the mindwarping she’s doing—?”

“Michael, stop, I’ve never heard you talk so much.”

“I wouldn’t have to talk so damned much if you would volunteer some information for once, dammit,” I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand, and realize I probably look ridiculous.

“For the last time, she’s not doing any mindwarping,” he takes a deep breath, “someone is watching her. I have a handful of people on the planet, and two in LA.”

“How do you know she’s not doing any mindwarping?”

“She lost her powers.”

“Lost them? What, like you lose your wallet?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Michael. She lost them, they took them from her, however you want to put it. The powers are gone: no mindwarping, no illusions, she can’t even light a match. Tess is harmless,” he lets out a long sigh.

***

Isabel is pissed. No, scratch that, she’s beyond pissed. So mad that she’s not even ignoring me like she usually does when I screw up.

Max is making her explain everything she knows about Liz’s visit as the three of us stand here in the kitchen. I’d really like to go into my studio, but somehow I know that would make her even angrier, so I’ll just sit here and listen until she’s ready to start whisper-yelling at me.

We’ve agreed not to tell Isabel anything. I’m just supposed to pretend I didn’t find out that Tess was warped in a serious way on the home planet. It would be nice to tell Iz what Max learned about the mind control that lead Tess to do something as stupid as to keep Nacedo’s end of the bargain with the skins, but I suppose it can wait.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Allie enter the room from the hallway. She’s practically running and her eyes light up when she sees me. I guess she heard us come in.

“She could stay here, couldn’t she Michael?” Max asks me, looking at me hopefully. He doesn’t have to ask, of course Liz could stay here, but with him in the house, I know she won’t want to.

“Yeah, Liz knows she’s welcome any time,” I say, looking down to see that Allie is standing in front of me looking up. She doesn’t say anything, just stares.

“Will you call her tomorrow so that she knows she’s invited?”

I tear my eyes away from Allie to look over at Max. He’s still wrapped up in the Liz discussion.

“Uh, yeah,” I nod.

Allie tugs on the bottom of my shirt, and I look down at her. She does the staring thing for a few more seconds. I reach down and put my hands under her arms, lifting her onto my hip. Immediately, her hands wind around my neck, squeezing it in a death grip. Her chin is resting on my shoulder, and I can feel that she is shivering slightly.

Max is still talking, but I look over at Isabel and meet her eyes. She looks livid. I just wish Max would shut up—can’t he see there’s something wrong with Allie?

I’m rubbing Allie’s back and trying to reassure her, hoping that the shivers will stop. Obviously I scared her. Before I know it, there’s another presence at my side, and I look down to see Jak standing right next to my leg, glancing up at me occasionally.

Call it a fatherly instinct, I reach down and ruffle his hair, then let my hand rest on his shoulder. He looks up at me with blue eyes so much like and unlike Tess’s, and suddenly I feel guilty for the whole night all over again. Guilty for wanting to kill her without so much as a second thought, guilty for scaring the kids to death.

I’m more than a little surprised when Jak leans into my leg, wrapping his arm around it in a halfway hug.

Max stops mid-sentence to stare at the three of us. Isabel is watching us as well, still pissed, but now a little baffled too.

***

I’m staring up at the ceiling, wishing I was asleep. This isn’t unusual, some nights, sleep just doesn’t come.

Tonight is the first time since the window incident that I haven’t slept in the rocking chair in Allie’s room, and my back is thanking me for it.

Isabel’s pissed at me. Really pissed, super pissed. I sent her off to some pizza place with two really frightened little kids, and I suppose if our positions were reversed I’d feel the same way.

I think if she hadn’t given me a whisper lecture after we put the kids to bed I wouldn’t have noticed how long it’s been since she stayed here. After giving me a tongue lashing, she’d simply slipped out the back door, and I’d watched her go, finally realizing how strange it was that she wasn’t storming up the stairs into my bedroom.

Really, I don’t want to spend the night pondering why Allie drew the picture that she did. A Tess mindwarp would have been such a simple answer, now I have to figure out what’s going on in Allie’s head. Does she have some sort of strange genetic memory of her mother that’s somehow been distorted? Is the drawing her fantasy of what Maria would be like? It’s confusing, disturbing—maybe this is her way of trying to connect with her dead mother, or maybe this was her way of saying she needs someone like Maria.

This question, about whether or not she needs a mother figure has been plaguing me for years. They all encourage me to date. All of them, Amy included, think that it’s strange that I don’t, of course they don’t know about the arrangement with Isabel. But, Isabel and I aren’t dating, we’re just screwing the pain away—not that there isn’t more to it than that, there is.

I don’t know, at this point, my relationship with Isabel defies definition. I’m not sure that I want it defined, because I don’t want to get over Maria.

Maybe it is time for me to move on. Seven years. It’s a long time, a long time to be alone. Ok, so I’m not ‘ alone’, but I’m not truly with anyone else. It’s not that I want to be alone, it’s just that I don’t want to be with anyone who isn’t Maria.

At times like this, I wish I could drink. I hate it when I’m forced to reflect on my life.

//“Maybe we should go to New York?” Isabel raises her eyebrows at me.

I’m not sure how ‘me leaving’ turned into ‘us leaving’, but it has. New York might be a good idea—Liz is there, and Max might settle there, if Larek really can get him to Antar and back in one piece—but the thought of hauling my two year old around that city is daunting to say the least.

“Or,” Isabel purses her lips, “we could go to LA. Kyle’s there, and it’s not that far from home…”

L.A. Sounds big, and not kid friendly. Of course, the same is true of NYC. I glance over at the potted plant that Allie has tipped over for the fourth time this week. Maria planted it, and kept it alive. Now it’s hanging by a thread.

“We don’t have to decide tonight,” she sighs as she stands up and goes into the kitchen to get a soda before coming back out into the living room and flicking the light off. There was the ‘we’ again. I never intended to wrap her up in my responsibilities. She wasn’t stupid, she didn’t have a kid at eighteen, there’s no reason for her to feel tied to me. Even if we are doing, well, whatever it is we’re doing.

“You don’t have to follow me around, Iz,” I say as she leans toward me.

“What else am I gonna’ do?” she asks me simply before pressing her lips to mine.

Just as our bodies begin to heat up, and the ache begins to dull slightly, I decide. L.A., that sucker who actually bought those desertscapes from me was from L.A.

“L.A.?” I whisper into her ear.

“Sounds good.”//

***

I reach down and grab Allie’s hand as we cross the school parking lot.

We’re only a few feet from the car when she stops suddenly.

“Allie, come on,” I tug on her hand, but she doesn’t move, so I look down at her. Her eyes are fixed on something across the street, and as I let my gaze follow hers I feel a chill.

Nothing unusual. Just a dark haired woman walking down the street with her back to us. Nothing to take notice of.

“Allie?” I know I’m whispering, but I’m not sure why. She looks up at me with her big brown eyes, and nods slightly. She got a good look at the woman, and I’m tempted to ask her if the woman was wearing sunglasses, but I don’t. There’s nothing out of the ordinary here.

The ride to the airport is a silent one. I can’t help glancing at Allie in the rearview. She’s staring out the window with a look of concentration on her face, and her little fingers are worrying her eyebrow.

We hurry through the terminal, because we’re late. Liz is waiting for us when we finally reach her gate.

“Hey,” I greet her as walk the last few steps in her direction.

Liz gives me a “hi” in return, but doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are trained on Allie who is glancing at her.

I nudge my daughter, and she takes a step forward as Liz leans down to give her a hug. After a beat, Liz pulls back and crouches down.

“Hello Alexandra,” Liz says with a small smile.

“Hi…” Allie replies as she shuffles her feet slightly.

Liz brushes a wisp of hair off Allie’s forehead, and sighs before she speaks again, “You look so much like your mother.”

I swallow hard and look up, away from the pair in front of me. She really doesn’t look that much like her, so I don’t know why Liz’s words are getting to me.

“Michael?” Liz stands again and turns to me.

“Yeah?”

“Shall we go?”

I nod and grab Allie’s hand again as we turn toward the baggage claim.

***

“Do you think she’ll come over here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she mention coming to see Allie?”

“I took Allie with me to pick her up.”

“Do you think she wants to meet Jak?”

“Uh, Max, you know who would be able to answer these questions?”

“Who?”

“ Liz.”

“Right,” Max nods and takes a deep breath, and I know he’s going to fire off another question. I turn away from the dinner dishes in the sink, grab the phone and toss it at him. He looks up just in time to catch it.

“Ask her yourself,” I know the veins in my neck are throbbing in time to each syllable I enunciate.

I think he got the message, because he’s nodding again. The truth is, I don’t know if Liz wants to see Max or not. She didn’t say anything about it. I sort of thought that was why she was here, but maybe she lost her nerve.

Not surprisingly, Max drops the phone when it rings. I give him a look of disgust, then pick the receiver up off of the countertop.

“Yeah?”

“Michael.”

“Yeah.”

“This is Liz.”

“I know.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

I glance at Max, and I know he knows who it is.

“Michael?”

“Yeah, still here,” I say into the phone as I turn back to the sink.

“I’d like to come over.”

“Ok.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Isn’t Kyle there?”

“Um, I’m not at Kyle’s.”

“I left you at Kyle’s.”

“I’m not there anymore.”

“Where are you?”

***

Liz isn’t in the lobby of the hotel when I arrive, so I immediately head in the direction of the lobby phone and try her room number.

No answer.

Right. Convenient. I spend about two seconds thinking, then I immediately hop on an elevator and head up to the fifth floor.

Room 515, I knock. No answer. I knock again. No answer.

Well, I’m basically out of ideas, so I lean against the wall and literally scratch my head. I have no clue why Liz checked into a hotel when she was supposed to be staying with Kyle, and I have no idea why she isn’t here when she just called me to come pick her up.

I’m trying to decide what I should do next when suddenly the door to Room 515 cracks open.

What the hell?

My foot somehow manages to lodge itself in the path of the door which is quickly being closed in my face, and my hand moves to shove said door open with a force that sends it banging into an unseen wall within.

Something has happened that I can’t quite comprehend and my body seems to have gone into auto-pilot to deal with the situation. I’m forcing my way into the room, staring down at the dark haired woman who is backing away from me with a terrified look on her face.

Her back is pressed flush against the window on the opposite wall, and my body is barely an inch away from hers when I finally stop moving. My hand moves up and grasps a trembling chin, forcing it upward into light that I don’t need to recognize a face I can’t forget.

My voice finally kicks in, and does what I suppose is instinctual, rasping out a desperate, “ Maria?”

 

 

 

PART 9

 

 

She’s standing in front of me, in the flesh, the real thing.

I don’t know what to do.

Her hair is dark, and shoulder length, and her skin is pale, whiter than I remember. On her right cheek is a criss-crossed mesh of raised scars that feather down over her jaw.

“ Maria.”

I barely recognize the sound as coming from me.

She’s shaking, and only when her voice whispers a desperate “ please” do I realize that I’m probably hurting her. I release her chin, and immediately, she tucks it against her chest, her hair falling forward into her face, eyes trained on the floor.

“Maria?”

I wish I could say something other than her name. There are a thousand things I need to know. Maybe I could speak if my lungs weren't collapsing.

She slides away from me, and moves to sit on one of the two double beds in the room. I turn and watch her.

I'm not stupid. Weird things have been going on, I know that, and seeing her here sort of makes a lot of pieces fall into place. When you lose someone, you're tortured enough—you try not to torture yourself further with false hopes that the impossible might actually be true.

"You were with Tess."

She nods.

"They took you...back with them..."

More nodding. She won't look at me, her eyes are trained on the bedspread.

Things I know: I know she's alive, I know she's not crazy like Tess. Another thing I know is that she didn't want me to know she was back.

"Come on, let's go."

"Go? Go where?" she glances up at me for a minute.

"Home. Come on," I walk over to her closet to look for the bag or suitcase she must have somewhere. I find an old nike gym bag, and something catches in my throat for a moment. This is her old bag, she used to take it to school for gym class. So, it's not just Max and Kyle, Amy knows, and I suppose Jim knows—obviously Liz knows, she sent me here. Bless Liz Parker, I'm sorry for every snide comment I've ever made.

"Th-those are Tess's," Maria stands from the bed and interrupts my train of thought as I'm pulling clothing off hangers and stuffing it into the bag.

"Come and get your things then," I say gesturing at the closet.

Who cares whose clothes they are? I don't care whose clothes—.

She doesn't need clothes, I should just take her home right now.

No, can't do that, that's stupid. I'll just calmly put her things into the bag.

I'm having a lot of trouble thinking, so I just resume shoving clothes that may or may not be Maria's into the duffle.

"I can't go with you," she says.

I turn away from the closet and walk into the bathroom. There are three hairbrushes, two toothbrushes, some sort of ph balanced deodorant—I sweep my arm across the counter and knock it all in on top of the clothes.

"Come on, let's go," I say as I walk out of the bathroom trying to zip up the over-stuffed bag.

“I can’t.”

She’s sitting on the bed, shaking her head slowly.

“Whatever. Come on.”

“No. I can’t.”

“If you’re alive—and it looks like you are—you’re coming with me.”

She’s not complying. There’s more head shaking, and I’m starting to get pissed. I really don’t want to get angry right now, I’m barely holding on to my sanity as it is, at this point a new emotion could potentially overload me.

I gesture at her, and raise my eyebrows. Maria glances my way, then looks back at the comforter on the bed, still shaking her head. I start to walk over to her, and after I’ve taken about two steps, she flinches and leans back—almost as though she’s cowering away from me. That stops me cold. I wasn’t going to hurt her, I was just going to take her hand and make her leave with me.

“Maria…”

That’s all I say, that’s all it takes. A quiet Maria after all of that arguing, and she’s on her feet on her way to the door. This feels off, and a little wrong, because I know that somehow I scared her into compliance, but at the moment I really don’t care.

I take her elbow in the hallway as we’re on our way to the elevators, and am almost knocked over by the flash.

// Maria in the cell in Nicholas’s compound, someone opens the door, and drags her on the floor out of the room and down a long hallway. They throw her onto the ship, Nicholas laughing as he tells her that her child and its father are dead.//

***

“Ah, wait here—no, over there. Sit. On the couch.”

I’m scratching my head and pointing into the living room, and I know that I probably look like an idiot.

Maria glances at me quickly, then nods and does as I’ve asked. She looks ill, and she’s not fighting me anymore.

I slam the back door and run through the kitchen, into the hall, up the stairs, throw her bag into my room as I pass it and then come to a stop in Allie’s doorway.

Jak is in the room, and his back is to me as he stares out the window, both of his palms flat on the glass. Allie is sitting on the bed, her hair is wet, and she’s wearing her pajamas.

She looks at me and makes a face, “Dad! Where have you been? He,” she takes a moment to gesture exasperatedly at Jak, “won’t leave my room until you read us our bedtime story.”

“Allie, downstairs.”

“It’s past my bedtime,” she says narrowing her eyes suspiciously at me.

Jak has turned away from the window and is staring at me.

“ Now,” I bark at Allie.

She raises her eyebrows and hops off the bed, slipping her feet into her slippers before walking toward the door. Jak moves to follow.

“Jak, no. You can, uh, read the next chapter yourself,” I say pointing at the old hardback version of “The Borrowers” on Allie’s bookshelf.

He’s just staring at me, and I don’t even know if can read. Maybe I should—.

Wait, what the hell? Maria is alive and downstairs—who cares if Jak can read?

“Come on,” I say to Allie as I turn back toward the stairs.

She mutters what sounds like a really sarcastic “ok” as she follows me.

In the living room, I come to a stop at the arm of the couch opposite Maria. She doesn’t look up at me, and I can see her carefully arranging her hair so that it covers all of her face but her eyes, nose, and mouth.

“Allie,” I turn around to hurry her. She’s standing in the hallway, frozen. I beckon her toward me, and she looks away from Maria just long enough to run over to me. Now, she’s hiding behind my leg, holding onto me for dear life, as she peaks around at Maria.

I look down and catch her eye, and point toward Maria, “This is…this is…”

What am I supposed to say, ‘This is your dead mother’?

Maria will hardly look at either of us. Her eyes are trained on the carpet, and the only sign that she’s feeling any emotion at all is the occasional quiver that plays on her chin.

Suddenly, I can hardly stand. I put my hand out toward the couch cushion and manage to sit. Allie watches me for a second with her big, frightened little eyes, then somehow squishes herself into the four inches of space between me and the arm of the sofa.

This feels really wrong. Aren’t there supposed to be smiles, and balloons, and happy tears?

I look over at Maria on the other end of the seat. She’s not three feet away, but she might as well be on the other side of the universe.

Allie is leaning around me to look at her.

“This is your mother, Allie.”

There, I said it, in a very ‘in-control’, Ward Cleaver-ish, kind of way that would never reveal that I’m about to lose the contents of my stomach all over the rug.

“She’s dead,” Allie whispers.

I look down at her, “We thought so, but she’s not.”

“I’m gonna’ go read with Jak,” she says, jumping to her feet and scurrying out of the room before I have time to react.

I look at Maria. Eyes still on the floor. Right.

I’m on my way into the hallway to find Allie when the back door bursts open.

Kyle.

“Hey,” he says as he sees me, “do you know where Max is?”

I shake my head, debating whether I should strangle him now, or later.

Liz walks in the door after Kyle, and I meet her eyes, then look in Maria’s direction to signal her.

At this moment, Kyle sees her as well.

“Oh shit,” he slams the door and walks over to the sofa.

“Yeah, ‘oh shit’,” I say.

He glares at me before he sits down next to Maria.

Excuse me? He’s glaring at me?

“How the hell did she get here?” he snaps in my direction as he puts his arm around her.

I can’t believe my eyes as I watch her curl into him, settling her head on his shoulder, clinging to him. She freaked out when I tried to touch her.

I’m gonna’ kill him.

Liz seems to have figured out my intent as I start barreling toward the couch because suddenly she’s in front of me, hands on my chest.

“No, Michael. Don’t. You’ll frighten her.”

“Liz, outta’ my way,” I growl, keeping my eyes on Kyle. Maria is hiding her face in his chest.

“Don’t make me regret letting you know, Michael,” she says in a tone that I’m assuming is supposed to calm me down.

“ Letting him know?” Kyle cries, moving Maria and getting to his feet to stand behind Liz. “You told him? How could you do that?”

“How could I not do it, Kyle?” Liz said, turning to look at him.

“Dammit, Liz, you had no right—.”

Liz cuts Kyle off by giving him the finger, and a sneer.

I turn away from their little argument, I need to get to Allie.

“What is going on?”

We all look up to see Max enter the room. It’s sort of funny, really. His face lighting up when he sees Liz, the confused expression when he sees Kyle, then the grimace at the sight of Maria, and finally the fear (the bastard should be scared) when he looks into my face.

“Oh shit.”

I react the same way to that line from Max as I did when Kyle delivered it, and turn toward him, my hand already clenching into a fist.

***

“Are you telling me you just dropped Allie in here, ‘Ok, kiddo, here’s your mom, sorry we thought she was dead—now deal’?”

I’m staring at Kyle. When he puts it like that, he’s sort of got a point.

“I just…”

“You idiot.”

“Oh, fuck off, Kyle.”

“Mature, Michael, real grown-up. It’s that maturity that’s got Allie upstairs in serious need of therapy, Maria in the kitchen on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and Max with a broken jaw.”

I don’t have time for this right now. Allie’s been upstairs alone for ten minutes.

“Get out.”

“ What?”

“I said, get out. Out. Now. All of you, just go.”

“Yeah,” Kyle looks at Max who’s still sitting on the floor rubbing his jaw—it’s not broken.

“Liz, will you take Maria to the car?” Kyle asks turning to her, then smirking as he lays on the sarcasm, “But, don’t promise me that you’ll do it – I’d hate to see you break your word twice in one day.”

Liz flips him off again. There’s an ivy league education put to its best use.

“Maria’s not going anywhere.”

Kyle and Liz look at me.

Liz speaks as she takes her arm from around Maria’s shoulders, “Michael, I don’t think-.”

“Right. I’ll do the thinking. She stays here.”

“It’s all right, I’m here, she’ll be fine,” Max says walking into the kitchen, still rubbing his jaw.

What, like I’m gonna’ hurt her or something? Screw this, I need to find Allie.

I start to walk out of the room, but stop and turn back before I enter the hall, taking a moment to point at Maria whose eyes are trained on the floor, “She better be here when I get back, and,” I point at Kyle, “ you had better be gone.”

***

I pause in the hallway outside Allie’s door to listen for a moment before walking in. Jak is reading, and when I walk in, he’s sitting at the foot of the bed. Allie is curled up on her pillow listening.

“Uh, hey,” I say quietly from the doorway. They both turn to look at me.

Allie looks sad. God, what have I done to her?

Jak stands and walks out of the room without a word. I walk over to the bed and sit down next to her.

“Allie…”

I don’t know why I’m talking, I have no clue what to say. She’s traumatized, it’s obvious. Did anyone need more proof that I suck at the parenting thing?

“I don’t get it, Dad,” she looks up at me with her eyes narrowed.

Yeah, I don’t get it either.

“I know,” I can’t look at her, so I look down at my hands. “I’m not sure what happened yet.”

“I don’t need a mom.”

She’s looking up at me with more sincerity than I can imagine. I thought she wanted a mother, I always wanted a mother.

“Well, you’ve got one.”

“Are you sure she’s the right one? You sure she’s not really dead?”

“Yeah,” my voice just broke, God, this sucks, “she’s the right one.”

She’s trying to play nonchalant, like it doesn’t matter. Laying there in a ball like that on her pillow, she looks tiny, there’s no way she should be coping with this as well as she is. What did I do to make her grow up so fast?

Now she’s looking away from me, and I can see that she’s preparing to say something. If I had this night to do over…

It doesn’t really matter, though, I’ve already completely messed her up. She’s not a happy kid, she’s miserable. What kind of person am I? I might as well be knocking her around and calling her worthless. I might as well be Ha—.

“Why didn’t she say who she was when she came before?” the question is whispered, and her eyebrows are raised as she looks down at her hands.

It’s been in the back of my mind since the hotel room. Where, when, and how many times Allie had seen her. What was Maria thinking—coming here in the middle of the night—scaring Allie to death?

“Who did she say she was?”

Allie shakes her head, “She didn’t say anything. I just pretended to be asleep, because I thought it was a nightmare. Then, she came again, and I was gonna’ wake you up, but she left…”

Now I’m pissed off all over again, but I can’t let Allie know that.

“She just wanted to make sure you were ok, Allie, she loves you.”

Now, she looks up at me, and narrows her eyes again, as if that would make absolutely no sense. The really pathetic thing is that I don’t even know if it’s true, I’m wondering just how much her mother does care about her. She deserves so much better than this.

Allie takes a deep breath and sits up, running her hands through her hair. It’s still wet from the bath she must have taken while I was gone. I reach over and run my hand over her head, drying it.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

All I can do is nod.

She looks at me for a second and purses her lips, then hops off her bed and begins pulling back her covers. I stand, and she climbs into her bed. Sitting again, I tuck the sheets up under her chin and lean down to give her a quick peck on the forehead.

“It’s gonna’ be ok,” I say, hoping that she’ll believe me.

Her eyes stare into mine, and I almost think she believes me. I walk to the door and flick off her light, turning for one last look. She’s closed her eyes, she’s not crying, she’s being brave.

I hate myself.

***

Kyle and Liz are gone, and Maria is still sitting on the sofa. Max and I are in the kitchen, and he’s giving me what I suppose passes for a run down on what’s happened.

He keeps rubbing his jaw, and I wonder why he hasn’t healed it, but I don’t really care enough to ask.

“So, why is she fine with seeing everyone else but me?” I ask glancing her way.

I can see her head moving every time one of us speaks, and I can see that it bothers her that we’re speaking about her as if she isn’t here.

“Michael, you need to talk to her,” Max says glancing her direction and seeing that she’s pretending not to be listening to us, then he turns back to me and shakes his head slowly.

I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me, and I don’t care. He’s right, I need to talk to her.

“Come on,” I say walking toward the couch.

She glances my way over the back of the sofa—well, she glances at my feet.

“Uhh…” her voice is shaking and her lips barely move. She’s questioning something.

“Where are you taking her?” Max’s voice sounds from the kitchen.

None of his damn—.

“None of your damn business.”

I reach down and tap her arm. She glances up briefly, and I make a gesture with my hand beckoning her to her feet. Her head starts to shake, while her eyes are glued to my shoes again.

Taking a sharp breath, I open my mouth to speak to her, but suddenly she’s up and walking around the couch.

What the hell?

“Michael—.”

“Stay out of it Max,” I give him a warning glance as I start to walk toward the hall. She’s following, I can hear her footsteps behind me.

“Maria…”

Didn’t I just tell him to stay out of it? I stop at the foot of the stairs and let her walk ahead of me. Max walks into the hallway. There’s venom in his eyes. I never thought I’d hate him. Ever. But, at this moment, I do.

“Michael. You can’t do this, she obviously doesn’t want to have this out with you yet. Can’t we wait ‘til morning? You have no right to order her around.”

“I’m not ordering anyone to do anything, but I have every right to know everything, she’s my—.”

Ok, now I feel dumb. She’s my what? Not my wife, not even my girlfriend. Mother of my child?

“She’s not ready for this yet,” Max says softly.

I look up at her retreating back. She doesn’t look at Max, doesn’t even pause at his words.

“Looks to me like she’s willing to talk,” I say gesturing at her.

“Well, yeah, because she’s scared to dea—.”

I know, ok, I know. Somehow, I know I did something to scare her into doing what I want, but I don’t want to think about it.

“Goodnight, Max.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stands there staring after us as I point her toward my bedroom. The last time I glance at his face, I get the distinct impression that he hates me too.

Don’t know why, I’d never do something like this to him.

***

“Um…”

My bedroom, somehow very awkward.

She moves into the corner, and sits down in one of the chairs facing the window. I never use them, but Isabel said I needed more furniture to fill that space.

“You can, uh, get dressed in there if you want,” I point at the bathroom.

For a second, she almost looks amused. I walk over to the bed where I’d thrown her bag and hand it to her.

“These are just clothes from my closet,” she says, taking the bag from me.

“Yeah…”

“They aren’t night clothes,” she shrugs.

“Oh.”

I walk over to the dresser, and open two of Isabel’s drawers before I find what I’m looking for. The sweats and t-shirt will be big on her, I know, but better than nothing. I take them to her, and she stares down at them. The shirt is pink and her hands are tracing the faded writing on it, it says ‘wicked girl’. Obviously it’s not mine.

Suddenly, I feel a very sharp and very real pang of guilt. Never in all of the time that Isabel and I have been doing what we do have I felt like I was betraying Maria. I do now.

My legs will hardly hold me, and I manage to half stumble over to sit on the bed. If Maria noticed, she isn’t saying anything. After a few seconds, she stands and enters the bathroom, and I’m left to sit here with my thoughts.

Should I be surprised that she didn’t want to see me when she got back? I mean, she spent seven years as a slave, in God only knows what sort of conditions, on a planet billions of miles from her own. Naturally, she must wish she’d never met me, that she’d never even heard of me.

Maria exits the bathroom, and stands in the doorway, with only the lamp on my nightstand illuminating the room. The clothes she’s wearing are far too big, she’s swimming in them. She looks tiny and young, almost as if she hasn’t aged a day since I saw her last—I could almost believe that if it weren’t for the scar on her cheek. The dark hair is different, but it gives her a sort of ethereal quality. I could almost believe she’s a ghost.

“I’m sorry about the ice cream.”

I have no idea why I said that.

Her eyes widen, and she looks up at me.

“Ice cream…?” she moves her head to the side slightly and glances at me once more before shifting her gaze back to the floor.

“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about the ice cream, and I’m sorry I didn’t get you a pillow, or something to drink…” my hands move of their own accord in a gesture of helplessness, palms outward.

Why am I bringing this up? As if having her forgiveness for that last fight is going to change the fact that I completely destroyed her.

Her face doesn’t reveal much, but I can see that she’s not sure what I’m talking about. This has haunted me for seven years, and she doesn’t even remember. I don’t know if that should make me feel better or worse.

“Why didn’t you come to me when you got back?”

She bites her lip, and leaves the bathroom doorway, to sit again in the chair by the window, “I just needed some time.”

“Time. We lost seven years, and you wanted more time?”

“Michael,” she turns to look out the window, letting my name sit in the air between us.

“Do you hate me now? Is that why? I can understand,” why does my voice keep breaking tonight? I clear my throat and start again, “I can understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me, you know, after everything. But, Allie…”

She’s nodding.

“You really scared her, sneaking in her room like that.”

Her head flies up to look at me, and her eyes narrow, “I-I…I had to see her.”

“You could have used the front door.”

More nodding, this is getting us nowhere. She stands and walks to the window, looking out into the darkness. From behind, I wouldn’t even know her. Her hair is changed, and the way that she holds herself is so different.

I make my way over to her, and she seems to tense at my approach. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m not sure why I place my hand on her shoulder, or why I turn her so that I can slip my hands around her waist, or why I pull her to me.

My eyes close and my lips meet hers: they are soft, and full, and sexy as ever. She still tastes the same. Guys like me don’t get second chances, but here I am, kissing Maria again.

“ Maria.”

We’re on the bed, and I’m devouring her mouth. The electricity of our first few touches is wearing off, and I’m beginning to realize that something is wrong. She’s touching me, but her hands are simply on my arms, gripping me lightly, more for balance than anything. Her lips aren’t moving with mine. It’s as if she’s letting me kiss her.

Allowing me. She’s allowing me to kiss her.

I pull away and stumble to my feet. Her eyes are closed, and she sighs. Then, her body tenses, and she sits up quickly, rearranging her hair around her face with her fingertips. Naturally, she’s looking at the floor.

My chest is heaving, and I’m trying to catch my breath. I rake my hand down my face and then clamp it on the back of my neck. This is what the slavery has done to her, made her compliant, and I’ve been taking advantage of it.

Pointing at the bed, I try to speak, “You can sleep here. I’ll just…”

Grabbing a pillow, I walk to the closet, and pull a quilt down off the top shelf. I’m about to throw the pillow down in front of the window when I decide maybe I should stay in front of the door.

She climbs under the covers, and I realize that I probably should have put clean sheets on the bed.

I drop down onto the cold hardwood floor, thinking maybe I should move closer to the bed so I can lay on the edge of the area rug.

No, this if best, there’s no way she can get past me without my knowing.

 

 

 

PART 10

 

 

“Allie, come on, get up.”

“F-fife more minits Dad…”

“No, now.”

“ Daaaad,” her head pops up slightly.

Maybe she will be all right, this seems like a typical morning.

“Up, come on.”

I go back to my room, and head for the shower. When I’m done, I walk up to the bed where Maria is laying and shake her shoulder. She’s already awake.

“Hey, uh, time to get up. Have to take Allie to school.”

She seems surprised that I want her to go with me, but she rises and heads into the bathroom.

Maria is alive.

***

Maria is sitting on the sofa in the living room while Jak and I make sandwiches for lunch. As of this moment, I still don’t know anything. Actually, I’ve tried to talk to her a couple of times, but it’s pointless all she does is nod or sigh.

At exactly noon, the doorbell rings. Jak follows me to the door, and is lucky enough to witness Amy DeLuca punch my face as soon as I open the door.

" Where is she?!?"

" Ow. Hi, Amy."

She pushes past me into the front hall, "Where is my baby?"

"Nice to see you too..." I turn to watch her climb the stairs calling for Maria.

Jak stares after her, then turns to me and raises his eyebrows. I shrug and go back to the kitchen.

***

Maria is in the backyard reading while I receive a lecture from her mother in the living room. I really think it’s neat that everyone has so many opinions on how I live my own fucking life.

"You had no right to force her to stay here."

"I have every right."

"No, Michael, you chauvinist, you don't."

"Whatever. And it has nothing to do with me being a chauvinist."

"You are a chauvinist."

"Ok, to you, probably—don’t really wanna’ get into it—because that's not what this is about."

"This is about you thinking you can decide her life for her."

"I'm not trying to decide anything, Amy. This is her life."

"Not if she doesn't want it to be. Michael…” Amy’s trying to sound persuasive, “she needs a little time. I think that she’s just trying to find her place again. Things with Allie will fall into place, and when she understands that you don’t care about her appearance, I think she’ll come back to you too.”

Appearance? What does her appearance have to do with anything? And, I’m sick of this ‘time’ excuse, “Time is exactly what I don’t want to lose more of. We’ve lost too much already. She’s better off just living her life.”

Amy shakes her head, “She needs more time to sort things out, she’s been through a lot. You need to put her needs first here.”

"Look, my daughter needs her mother."

" My daughter needs to figure things out for herself."

Things are getting heated, and we both take a deep breath, trying to keep our anger in check. In all of the time that Maria was gone we’ve never argued like this. I think that fact occurs to both of us at once, because Amy calms for a moment and turns to me, placing a hand on my arm. She has a motherly look on her face. I’m an errant child in need of scolding.

“Amy…”

“Michael, she just needs time. She’ll come around, and decide she wants to be with Allie,” she pats my arm when I look away from her, “and you.”

Right, more time. Why does everything take more time? Haven’t I already lost enough time? I just want to get on with my life. A life that will include Maria, at least for Allie’s sake.

This conversation is going nowhere, and I need to go. I run a hand through my hair as I leave the couch and go into the hallway to call Jak to come down. Max is off taking care of Tess, I think. We didn’t exactly speak before he left.

“Gotta’ go get Allie,” I tell Jak as he comes down the stairs.

All he does is nod and head in the direction of the back door.

I walk up to Amy, “Going for Allie, you coming?”

She watches me for a minute, then smiles, hopping to her feet. Maybe when she sees Allie she’ll change her tune about the whole Maria thing. Or maybe not. I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe Maria’s been through too much and I shouldn’t try to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do. Then again, maybe she needs to be shoved back into real life.

Dammit, I need to go, not stand here questioning myself.

The ride to Allie’s school is a silent one. Amy is beside me in the passenger seat, Maria is in the backseat, and Jak is in the third seat. I wonder if Jak and Maria knew each other in alien land, I suppose I should add that to my list of twenty million Maria questions. It’s like there’s so much information to uncover, I don’t even know where to start. The fact that Maria is less than forthcoming isn’t helping. In a way, though, I don’t care. She’s back, that’s the important thing.

I leave them all in the car and go to Allie’s classroom. She sees me, and practically runs out to join me.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve got a surprise.”

She stops walking and turns to look up at me. I stop too, and look down at her.

“ Another surprise?” her eyes narrow, and she almost looks like she’s in pain.

“It’s a good surprise.”

She looks skeptical, and I feel like a jerk.

I grab her hand, and start walking again. Even though we’re still in the school building, she doesn’t protest. This is bad, very bad.

Amy is standing beside the car when we get out to the parking lot, and Allie lets out a little squeal and runs to her.

“Grandma!”

“Hi, sweetie! Ooooh, I missed you.”

I walk around to the driver’s side, and Amy helps Allie into the back. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Allie casting a wary glance at her mother before baling over the back of the seat to sit with Jak. She’d rather sit with Jak than Maria. Great.

***

“Hi, Iz.”

I turn my head to see Allie latching on to Isabel’s leg as she walks in the back door.

“How have you been, Allie?”

“Ok,” Allie grins up at her. With Amy here, I’m just trying to keep things as normal as possible. Allie avoids Maria, and Maria hasn’t even made an effort to speak to her. The whole thing is so far out of control, I have no clue what to do…so, I’m making dinner.

Isabel acknowledges me briefly with a look, I wave with a lasagna noodle in my hand.

“Oh, Isabel!” Allie giggles a little. “Wait right here, I’ve got something for you.”

“All right…” Isabel sounds like she’s trying not to laugh, and I turn to see Allie running out into the hallway.

That’s when I hear the shocked gasp.

“ Wh-wh…”

I turn to see Isabel staring at Maria who is standing in the entrance to the hallway.

Didn’t anyone tell Isabel?

“Iz…”

At the sound of my voice, she turns to me, and all I can see is shock on her face.

“Didn’t they tell you? Maria came back with Max.”

That was a really lame explanation, and all Isabel can do is continue to stare at me.

She puts her hand out and grasps the countertop for support. Her eyes dart to Maria again, and then back to me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…don’t know, Iz. I figured someone else would…”

Maria is watching our exchange carefully, saying nothing, I wish I knew what she was thinking.

Isabel looks at her, and makes an attempt at a smile, “Maria, I’m so glad…”

I watch as Isabel’s knuckles turn white from their grasp on the edge of the counter. Her voice trailed away into a whisper, and I know she’s on the verge of tears. Dropping what I’m doing, I wipe my hands quickly on a towel as I walk toward her.

“No,” Isabel’s hand comes up to stop me as I reach for her. “I think…I think I’m going to go home. Just tell Jak I stopped by.”

She turned for the back door, and fumbled with the knob for a second before finally making it out.

Chalk another one up for me. How could I have forgotten about Isabel? I should have made sure she knew.

“Where’s Isabel?”

I turn to see Allie walking back into the kitchen past her mother who was now leaning against the refrigerator.

“She had to go,” I say quickly, not sure if I should try to follow her, or call Max…or Kyle.

“But, I told her to wait.”

I look down at Allie, and see that she’s turned to look at Maria. There’s a look of suspicion on her little face.

“Allie, she just had to run,” I say as I walk toward the phone.

“But…I have her birthday card.”

I turn back to see Allie holding up what is obviously a homemade card. Isabel’s birthday is tomorrow. I forgot.

“Allie-.”

She doesn’t let me speak, she narrows her eyes and points at Maria, “Did she scare Isabel away?”

I’m just starting to shake my head when Amy walks in the room, “Where’s Isabel? Allie told me she was here.”

“She had to go,” I motion in Maria’s direction with my eyes, and Amy catches on.

“Allie, why don’t you come and help me unpack?” Amy beckons Allie with her hand.

I look down at my daughter, she’s staring at Maria with contempt. Maria’s visage remains emotionless, her eyes on the floor. After a few moments of staring, Allie follows her Grandmother out of the room.

Turning, I grab the phone, and dial Kyle’s number.

“Hello?”

“Kyle, it’s me.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“Why didn’t you tell Isabel?”

There’s a long pause, and I think I can actually hear his temperature rising.

It sounds like Kyle’s choking when he finally speaks, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I haven’t seen her,” I getting angry all over again, “I’ve been a little busy, what with my life turning upside down and all.”

Kyle spits out a bitter laugh, “Well, that’s exactly why I thought she’d know. Figured the first thing you did when things got a little uncomfortable was run to her for a quickie to make yourself feel better.”

I am going to kill him.

“You bastard,” I think I’m going hoarse, it’s taking all of my strength to keep myself from screaming into the phone. “You have no fucking clue how things are between us. Don’t you ever talk about her like that.”

How dare he?

“I’m not talking about her, I’m talking about you,” his voice is nasal and sarcastic

My blood is literally boiling.

I pull the phone away from my ear, and it melts in my hand. For a second, I simply stare at it, then drop it as it begins to burn me. There’s a puddle of plastic and small cinged metal pieces on my kitchen floor.

Maria is staring at me, and I catch her eyes. She’s frightened, backing toward the hallway.

“ Maria…”

For a moment, she stops and just stares at me, and I see several emotions flit across her features. I wish she’d yell at me, tell me I was stupid to ruin the phone, anything. This fear thing is killing me.

Without answering me, she quickly leaves the room.

I’ll have to call Max about Isabel.

***

As soon as I’m done reading the latest chapter, Jak hops up and walks out of Allie’s room. I get up to follow, needing to call Max and make sure Isabel is ok, when Allie stops me.

“How long is she gonna’ be here?”

“What?”

“Dad, how long is she gonna’ be here?”

“Grandma?”

Her head shakes, and she rolls her eyes slightly, “No.”

All right, so I knew she was talking about Maria all along, “She’s here for good.”

“Grandma said maybe not.”

“Grandma’s wrong,” I run a hand through my hair.

She’s pursing her lips, and her forehead is furrowed as if she’s in thought, then her hand pops up and makes a waving motion, “C’mere.”

“What? You need to go to sleep.”

“ Dad, just-,” she makes the beckoning motion again.

I walk over to the bed and sit down next to her, “All right, what?”

“Can’t you,” she raises her eyebrows and waves her hand over her cheek as she lowers her voice, “ fix her face?”

“No,” I stand up, “I don’t know. Max is better at that stuff. Just go to sleep.”

I flick off her light and leave the room quickly.

***

Max walks in the back door, and I immediately usher him into my studio.

“How’s Isabel?”

He looks at me, and his eyes look old, tired, “I think she’s all right. Just shocked – you know.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “So, she’s ok, then?”

Swallowing hard, he studies me for a moment as if he’s trying to decipher something, “What do you see happening, now, between you and Isabel?”

My eyebrows just shot up so fast I think I pulled a facial muscle, “I… Maria-…Look, you have to understand, Isabel and I…,” I have to clear my throat, “we’re not- I mean, we’ve never been…Well, not like that, anyway, you know…”

He stares at me, as if he’s waiting for me to continue speaking. What else am I supposed to say? After a few seconds, he shakes his head and speaks, “That made absolutely no sense, Michael.”

I take a deep breath, I wasn’t ready to have to think about this, “Well…Maria’s back.”

There, that pretty much says it all.

It’s his turn to take a deep breath, “Have you really talked to Maria? I know this might be difficult to accept, but I don’t think you should assume that things are going to be the way they were seven years ago.”

“Why not?”

Shaking his head in what I’m assuming is disgust, he turns away from me for a second.

He’s mad at me? No, I’m mad at him, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him. If it weren’t for the fact that we’re bound by family, I wouldn’t care if I never saw his face again in my life. They hid this from me, they all did, but Max is the one I don’t understand. Amy, Kyle, Jim, even Liz – their loyalty is to Maria first I suppose…But Max? Max should have told me. I’d have told him, no matter how much ‘ time’ Maria asked for.

“Michael, I think you need to talk to Maria. I also think you should give the Isabel situation some serious thought.”

His voice is calm, fake calm.

“First of all, Maria won’t talk to me. No one will talk to me. The extent of my Maria information so far is that she’s alive. Second, I don’t need your advice on the ‘Isabel situation’.”

“I know that you’re angry with me, and that’s fine. If I was in your position, I might feel the same, but you need to step back and take a look at what you’re doing. Maria went through hell. There’s some information for you. Seven years of hell. She’s changed. And, I don’t think she’s ready to deal with all of the reality of her life yet.”

He was civil, I’ll give him that. I know that he believes what he’s saying, because that’s where the anger is coming from.

I don’t know what to think. Really, when I brought Maria here last night I was thinking more about Allie than anything else. Maybe it wasn’t good for Maria, but it’s done. All of it is done. I screwed up, there’s no way for me to say that I didn’t, but it’s done.

Without another word, I walk past him and out into the living room. Maria is on the sofa, she seems to live on it, just sitting there, staring at nothing or occasionally reading a magazine. Amy’s on the recently restored phone in the kitchen, she’s probably talking to Jim.

“Maria?”

She looks up at me briefly, and my heart almost stops. Maria is sitting here in front of me. Maria.

“Are you ready for bed?”

All she does is nod and stand, quickly making her way into the hall. I follow her. We start to climb the steps in silence.

“Wait!”

I turn around to see Amy rush into the hallway, her eyes are narrowed, and she’s staring at us.

“Maria, baby, do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

“No, I’m fine,” Maria replies softly, and I look up to see her giving her mom a weak smile.

“Ok…” Amy says to her smiling back, then letting her gaze fall upon me with a look of warning.

Ignoring her, I follow Maria up into my room.

I close the door behind us, and watch as Maria walks into the bathroom holding some of the clothes Max brought home for her earlier before I sent him out after Isabel.

Quickly, I change and sit down at the foot of the bed. The shower is running, and I simply stare at the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the pounding water inside, knowing that it’s falling on Maria. This is probably the wrong time to get horny, but I can’t help it. I want to touch her, to kiss her breathless, to pull her under the sheets of this bed and make love to her until the sun comes up.

“Your fan is broken.”

Her voice startles me, and I look up quickly. She’s wearing a tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. I recognize the clothes, she wore them a lot in high school. Suddenly there’s a lump in my throat.

“Maria…”

She’s standing in front of the window, combing her still wet hair, and she turns her head slightly to let me know she’s listening.

“Maria. I think it’s best if you stay here. Maybe I shouldn’t have forced you to come, and I definitely should have found a way to prepare Allie, but it’s done. She needs you, you need her, I think you should stay…”

I watch her move to sit in the chair in front of the window, her hair is carefully arranged to cover her face, and I can see little of her profile. Without a word, she gives her usual response, nodding her head.

Well, that was easy. I don’t think I could have let her go anyway.

“She doesn’t like me.”

I look up to see that she’s turned in my direction, “What?”

Her lips are pursed, and her brow is furrowed, and I have butterflies in my stomach because Allie does the same thing.

“Allie doesn’t like me,” she says softly, matter-of-factly.

“She doesn’t know you.”

More nodding, but this time I see her chin quivering faintly, her eyes darting back and forth looking from her hands to the floor and back again. Without another thought, I’m on my feet, and I’m standing in front of her. There are tears falling down her cheeks now, but she won’t look at me. I grab her wrist and pull her up to my chest.

She’s leaning against me, one hand on her mouth as she fights back sobs, and the other held captive at my side. I hold her, I kiss the top of her head, I whisper, “Shhh, don’t cry.”

It seems like an eternity that we’re like this before the sobbing subsides, and she’s breathing calmly against me. I’m a bastard, I’m happy she cried, I’ll accept anything that gets her into my arms.

With no warning, she stiffens, and pulls away from me, walking in the direction of the bathroom. I stop her, pulling gently on the wrist I’m still holding. She turns to look back at me, her eyes red and weary.

I don’t know what prompted me to look, but I glance at her hand and notice the inside of her wrist. Quickly, I reach for her other one as well. I’m holding both of her hands turned up so that I can see the inside of her wrists. Not one, but two scars on each.

She’s looking down at her hands, as if they weren’t hers, but belonged to someone else altogether, and when she speaks her voice trembles, “They told me you were dead. Both of you.”

I’d like to speak, I really would, but I can’t, and to my surprise, she continues, sounding a little more steady, “They laughed…and told me that they killed you..”

I can only stare at her. She looks up at me, her eyes so full of pain, and that’s when it happens.

//Maria is looking up at the ceiling of a darkened room, feeling herself float away with the blood she’s freed from her veins.

Vaguely, she’s aware of someone grasping her arms, telling her she’s needed, that she can’t do this.

She slips into unconsciousness, and when she awakes again, she finds herself still very much alive. Disappointment is all she can feel.//

My hands are suddenly very sweaty. Maria’s shaking her head, she knows what just happened, and she isn’t happy about it.

She pulls out of my grasp, and I let her go, watching as she walks into the bathroom. A few seconds later, she walks back out and gets into my bed. I grab the quilt and pillow from the night before and lay down on the floor next to the bed. I’ll be within reach if she needs anything.

 

 

 

PART 11

 

 

Kyle gives me a condescending look as he steps away from his door to let us into his apartment.

Isabel is standing in the open slider door that leads from the dining room to a small patio. She smiles in our direction, but doesn’t move, and doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Allie, you wanna’ check out my new game?” Kyle has already lifted Allie up onto his shoulders, and she’s slapping her palms on the top of his head like it’s a bongo drum.

“Yeah, cool, Uncle Kyle. Is it the racing one?”

“Yep,” he nods.

“Show me,” Allie resumes slapping his head.

Amy decided not to come with us tonight, she said she needed to catch up on her rest after the long drive yesterday.

Maria and I are left standing awkwardly together in the entryway. Max waves in our direction from the sofa in the living room, making it obvious that the greeting is intended for Maria and not for me. I wish there was some way I could slip away without anyone noticing.

“Maria!”

I look up to see Liz walking toward us from the hallway by the kitchen. There’s a smile on her face, albeit a tentative one.

“Liz,” Maria gives her friend and awkward smile.

Max is pretending not to watch the exchange between the two women, and trying not to act nonchalant as he turns his head toward Liz while she explains to Maria that Kyle doesn’t have enough ice for the party.

A movement catches my eye, and I turn in time to see Isabel slip outside into the darkness of the patio. I need to talk to her, I know I do, but I’m not sure what to say. My eyes travel to Kyle where he sits on the floor in front of the television with Allie and Jak on either side of him, explaining how to play his new game. Kyle would probably know what to say to Isabel.

Liz wants Maria to accompany her on the apparently vital quest for ice. This will be the first time she’s really been away from me since I found her, and I’m nervous as I watch her slip out the door behind Liz without a word to anyone.

***

“I rule!” Allie shouts as she drops the video game controller and shoves her fists into the air.

Jak doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that she’s gloating, he simply pushes the reset button and starts the game again. Allie gives him a challenging look, but he keeps his eyes trained on the screen. In no time, they’re in the midst of a new motocross race, both competitively leaning forward trying to win.

The clock on Kyle’s VCR tells me that Liz and Maria have been gone for twenty minutes--more than enough time to get ice, I should call Liz’s mobile phone to check on them. Everyone cleared the room as soon as I sat on the sofa, so I get up to find Kyle or Max to get the number.

Voices drift in softly from the three inch opening of the patio slider, and as I near the kitchen, I pause to listen.

“…think the main thing we need to remember is how we’d feel if we were in his shoes,” Max says.

I’m not an eavesdropper, not really. Under different circumstances, I probably wouldn’t be moving slowly along the dining room wall where I know I’ll be out of sight to whoever is outside.

“I understand,” Isabel says, her tone clear and strong, “I don’t think either of you can begin to imagine what it’s like… losing someone.”

Kyle scoffs, and his sarcastic twang is low, “Michael’s the only one who’s ever lost someone. Michael’s the only one who lost Maria. Give me a break, that’s no excuse for the way he’s acting.”

“Well, what would you have done?” Isabel asks him, and I can almost see her take a threatening step toward him. “He finds out that she’s alive and that she’s avoiding her own daughter. How would you feel?”

“That’s right, defend him. Amazing. He’ll get Maria, and he’ll keep you too-.”

“Shut up, Kyle!” Isabel snaps.

“Nothing is happening between Michael and Maria,” Max says softly.

Kyle laughs out loud at that, “Yeah—welcome to a little place I like to call ‘ reality’, Max. Michael and Maria are going to end up together. I’ve known that all along, and that’s great—more power to ‘em. All I’m saying is that she needed more time, and the least he could have done is give it to her. Despite what Maria might have said about not wanting to be a part of their lives, we all know that eventually she would have caved. She’ll stay with him, everyone knows that—including Michael.”

“No,” Max insists, “nothing is going to happen between them, and no one should give him hope that it might. I’m angry with him too, but false hope at this point would be cruel.”

“False hope?” Isabel sounds incredulous.

“Listen, Max, keep saying things like that and the only one you’ll be giving false hope to is Isabel.”

“ Shut. Up. Kyle,” Isabel’s teeth are probably clenched.

“Kyle, you know about Michael and Isabel?” Max asks.

“Yeah. You know now?”

Isabel snorts, “Hello? Am I here? I’d rather not be discussed, if you don’t mind.”

I can’t see their faces, but I feel uncomfortable. What happened between Isabel and I is ours—our business, our lives. No one else could ever understand.

“All right,” Max says, “so are we agreed that we’ll make an attempt to let this go? The last thing we need at this point is to be at war with Michael.”

“I have no problem with Michael. My problem is with the rest of you,” Isabel says.

Kyle sighs, “I’ll make an attempt.”

“Thank you,” Max says, sounding weary.

There’s silence for a moment, then Kyle clears his throat and speaks, “Max, why haven’t you tried to heal her face? I know that’s what is holding her back from him.…”

That sounds like a close to the conversation, and I back quickly out of the dining room, headed for the kitchen.

***

I close my bedroom door softly behind me. It’s been a long night, and I’m ready for sleep. Really, I should go call Isabel. She left Kyle’s before I had a chance to speak with her.

The cordless phone I keep by my bed isn’t on the hook, and I glance quickly around the room to locate it. As I begin to seriously search for it, I heard a muffled voice from the bathroom.

It’s Maria. She’s on the phone, but I can’t make out anything she’s saying. I’d like to listen at the door, but I think I’ve done as much of that today as my conscience will allow, so I simply sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her to emerge. Naturally, I’m wondering who she’s talking to. Most of the people who know she’s alive are either in this house, or were at the party tonight. Maybe she felt a need to speak to Liz or something. They used to spend hours on the phone, even after they’d spent an entire day together. No, most likely she’s calling to check on Tess.

Maria opens the bathroom door, and seems startled to see me.

“I was just waiting for the phone.”

She holds it out toward me, her hand shaking slightly. I take it from her and quickly dial Isabel’s number. Maria settles herself into one of the chairs by the window.

“Hello?” Isabel’s voice startles me as it whispers out of the receiver.

“Iz?”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Well?”

“Huh?”

“Is there something you need? You called me, Michael.”

“Yeah, I just…are you… ok?”

I hear her breathe in deeply, and I can’t help but wonder if what Kyle was implying earlier is true—that Isabel might be upset that Maria is back.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

That didn’t sound quite right. A little cold, a little distant, the way she acts with other people—not the way she speaks to me. I’m not sure what to say.

“Uh, Happy Birthday.”

I’m an idiot.

“Thanks…” now she seems irritated. “Look, Michael, I have some things I need to pick up from your place, is it all right if I come over on Saturday afternoon?”

She’s asking if she can come over. Isabel doesn’t ask—she just shows up, lets herself in the backdoor, and into my room…

“Yeah, that’s-…Iz, you don’t have to ask.”

“Ok, great, I’ll see you then.”

There’s a click on the line, and I know she’s gone.

My eyes find Maria as I replace the phone on its rocker. She’s watching me discreetly while she pretends to play with a hangnail. I’m sure that she knows about Isabel, and I have a hunch that’s the reason Max thinks she doesn’t want anything to do with me.

I grab the pillow and quilt I’ve been sleeping with and plop down in front of the door again.

***

I’d like to say that I’m sorry to see Amy go, but really I’m not. The last three days have been insane, and she hasn’t been making things any easier. She’s in the kitchen giving Maria a pep talk, telling her she can go back to Roswell or do whatever she wants—generally that she should ignore me.

Every once in a while Maria murmurs something in agreement with her mother, but I haven’t heard her make any declarations about leaving.

“Michael?”

I look up to see Amy walking toward me.

“Yeah?”

“Take good care of my girls,” she says giving me a steady look.

I nod, “Yeah, I will.”

Amy hugs me and then pulls back a little to pat my cheek, “I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

Looking into her eyes, I see that she means it. She’s not happy with me, and she hates the way I’m handling things, but I think she knows that I’m not trying to hurt anyone. Releasing a heavy sigh, she leaves through the front door. Maria steps up to stand beside me in the doorway, and we both watch her mother drive away.

She closes the door and bites her lip, glancing up at me hesitantly.

I look down at her, “Do you want to go see Tess today?”

Her eyes seem to light up. She misses Tess, apparently they’re close. I took her to the hotel yesterday, and Tess practically bowled her over with a hug the minute we walked in the door.

“I’ll go get the keys,” I say, and she nods, turning in the direction of the back door.

***

“So, is Grandma gone?”

“Yeah, she left after we dropped you off this morning,” I say as I open the back door, and she hops in.

There’s silence in the car for a few minutes as we begin the ride home. Maria was always non-stop chatter in a car, but now, nothing—just silence. Normally silence is fine with me, but not with Maria here.

Allie finally speaks from the backseat, “Uh, I got my pictures today.”

“Your school pictures?” I glance at her in the rearview mirror, and she nods.

“Yeah,” she answers.

“Show them to your mom.”

I catch her making a face in the rearview. She hates it when I call Maria her ‘mom’.

Maria takes the envelope from her, and carefully pulls out an 8 x 10. It’s a good picture, but Allie’s got a mischievous look on her face instead of a smile.

“Why aren’t you smiling?” I glance back at her.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“It’s perfect,” Maria says softly, interrupting us, and turning to glance at Allie for a moment, “you look beautiful.”

There’s a new silence for a few seconds, before Allie whispers, “ Beautiful?”

Maria nods, and I catch her taking a swipe at her cheek as she “mm hmm’s” and stares down at the photograph.

I glance back at Allie, her eyes are wide, and she asks again, “Really?”

Maria says, “Yes.”

I turn back to the street ahead of me. Hasn’t Allie ever heard that she’s beautiful? She is. She’s more than beautiful, she’s perfect. It seems like she’s surprised to hear it. Didn’t I ever tell her?

“Dad? Did you hear me?”

“What?” I must have spaced out, Maria is staring at me strangely.

Allie’s voice sounds light, “I said, can we go to my restaurant tonight?”

I look over at Maria, she’s studying her hands. I know she doesn’t really like to go out in public, Max mentioned that she was self-conscious, but I don’t know why, it’s not like people can tell she’s been off the planet just by looking at her.

“Is that all right with you?” I ask Maria.

We usually do go out to eat once a week, and ‘Allie’s restaurant’ is one of those ‘themed’ glorified burger joints.

Maria nods, and it’s all decided. The silence descends again for the duration of the ride home.

***

I really need to go to the bathroom, but the stupid waitress hasn’t taken our order yet. We’re in a ridiculously upholstered half-moon shaped booth. Maria is in the middle, with Allie and I sitting across from each other at her sides.
       
Looking at Maria, I raise my eyebrows, “I’ve got to, uh…anyway, order me a cheeseburger.”

She nods, and I leave the table. I think she can handle placing the order. I hope so, anyway.

All in all, the night isn’t going too badly. Maria and Allie have almost-sort of spoken to each other three times, and earlier Max told me he’s moving into an apartment in Isabel’s building next week. Good news all around. I think things will be better if it’s just the three of us—all of the extra people in the house are a distraction.

The waitress is at the table when I come back, dropping off sodas for Maria and I along with a huge strawberry milkshake for Allie.

As I sit down I give Allie a look. She quickly hops up on her knees and attaches her lips to the straw. I watch as she gulps the thing non-stop for about a minute, then I reach over and pull it away from her.

Sitting back in the seat, she crosses her arms and tries to look disappointed but comes off as smug. She’s not allowed to have milkshakes with her meal, she won’t eat her food when she does, but naturally she exploited my absence when the order was placed. I’m trying not to smile as I watch her mentally congratulate herself for bucking the system.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maria glancing back and forth between us.

“Allie? Mr. Guerin?”

I look up to see Allie’s teacher standing next to our table. Dammit, what’s her name? Smith-Johnson? John-Smithson? Shit.

“Hi,” I say, watching as the teacher’s eyes become glued to Maria.

“Hi, Mrs. Johnson-Smith,” Allie says with a big smile as she reaches for the milkshake.

Damn, she knows I can’t do anything with the teacher standing here.

“Out for a Friday night on the town?” the woman asks, speaking in my direction, eyes still on Maria.

“Uh, yeah. And you…?”

She glances at me for a moment, and says, “Oh yes, with my husband.”

“Sounds like fun,” I suck at small talk. Why did she have to be here? She’s still staring at Maria, not moving on, maybe she sees a resemblance-.

Oh shit.

Just as I think it, Mrs. Hyphen-Whatever smiles at Maria and says, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh…” my voice drags the woman’s gaze back in my direction. What do I say? Allie’s mother? This woman knows she’s dead. Just “this is Maria”? Then what will she say when she shows up at the next parent/teacher conference and she’s Allie’s mom? Fuck.

The woman is staring at me, obviously thinking I’m insane for not finishing what I was going to say, “This is Allie’s mother.”

For a few seconds, we all sort of hold our breath, except for Allie who is trying to finish the milkshake before the teacher walks away.

“I…thought…” the teacher glances first at me, and then back to Maria shaking her head.

I think I’ll just ignore her and hope she goes away.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Guerin,” the teacher smiles oddly and nods at Maria.

I’m almost excited when Maria manages to spit out, “Thanks, you too.”

Well, she didn’t blow our cover, so that’s good. Probably should have told Maria that I let people think we were married…And, maybe I should tell her that Allie’s sort of under that impression as well.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday, Allie,” the teacher smiles down at her.

Allie merely waves, not wanting to waste slurping time with a verbal acknowledgement.

“Uh, see you later,” I say to the woman, and she looks at me very carefully and nods before walking away.

Yeah, I’m gonna’ have a mess to straighten out at the school on Monday. Wonder what our official “oops, we were wrong, Maria’s alive” story is anyway. We didn’t have a body, so we just arranged things to look like she was kidnapped. I guess we could say we found her.

I take a deep breath, and my jaw tightens as I quickly pull the milkshake away from Allie again. Dammit, she managed to drink almost half of it—she’ll never eat her meal now.

Maria is watching me, I can feel it, but when I turn to her, she lets her eyes drop to stare at the table.

Allie’s not even trying to hide the smug expression, I narrow my eyes at her and she quickly puts on an innocent smile.

The food arrives, and Allie flips the top of her hamburger bun off and dumps some salsa (she always asks for it with a burger) on it, then reaches for a packet of sugar and rips it open, letting it spill all over the burger as well.

Maria is watching her, wide-eyed, and turns to me with a questioning look. All I can do is shrug, I won’t touch half the stuff Allie eats. Her taste is bizarre.

***

By the time we get home, Allie is sound asleep in the backseat. I take off her seatbelt, pick her up, and carry her into the house. Her little chin is digging into my shoulder, and her arms are loosely wrapped around my shoulders.

Maria follows me silently into Allie’s room. When I motion my head at the bed, she moves around me to pull back the covers so that I can lay Allie down. I switch on the lamp by the bed, and start to take off Allie’s shoes. Maria walks around to the other side of the bed and watches me.

I point at the dresser behind her. She turns and gestures at the top drawer. I shake my head, point downward, and when she puts her hand on the second drawer I nod.

Working on the shoes again, I watch as Maria sits on the bed and starts to dress Allie in the pajamas she retrieved from the dresser. In almost no time, we’re done, and I’m tugging the covers up under the sleeping girl’s chin.

When I stand, I can’t help but take a moment to stare. Allie really is beautiful. Asleep, she looks so young, and so small. Maria stands on the other side of the bed looking down at the child she didn’t know she had, and I wonder what’s going through her mind. Does she wonder what she’s missed?

I catch Maria’s eye, and whisper, “ Watch this,” as I reach down, placing the pad of my index finger softly on the bridge of Allie’s nose. On cue, her eyelashes flutter, and she lets out a high pitched sigh.

Standing back up, I look over at Maria. Her mouth is curved into a smile, and she’s staring down at Allie with a look of wonder on her face. She bites her lower lip and glances over at me. I give her a smile, I can’t help it. Her eyes leave me and move back to the bed as she hesitantly reaches down toward Allie’s nose. I want to stop her, I’ve never seen that trick work with anyone else, and I don’t want her to be disappointed. I’m holding my breath by the time Maria’s finger brushes lightly against the tiny nose, in the same spot mine did. It works--Allie sighs.

A faint sound escapes Maria’s mouth, I think it might be a laugh, and she looks back at me over her shoulder.

Right then, seeing her in the pale light, leaning over our child, my heart twists in my chest. This is a glimpse of my life the way it should have been.

It seems that she’s unable to resist as she touches Allie’s nose again, receiving the expected sigh for a second time. The smile on her face is all-out Maria now, as she stands and crosses her arms. She’s still in there. Somewhere inside this Maria-ghost is the real thing, just waiting to get out. I don’t care if she’s changed, and I don’t care if she doesn’t want to talk about what happened to her. She’s here now, and that’s all that matters.

 

 

 

PART 12

 

 

(For reference, we're jumping ahead 3-4 weeks in this part.)

“Right, Jak, just…uh…jump a little more.”

I toss the ball back to Jak, and he concentrates carefully on the basket for a moment before attempting to shoot again. He’s still about two feet short of the rim most of the time. Allie’s basketball team has their first game tomorrow, and at first I thought his new interest in the sport had something to do with the competition she creates out of everything. Max is taking him to Roswell for Thanksgiving in a couple of days, though, and now I can’t help but wonder if he’s aware of the traditional Evans family basketball games and thinks he should practice.

Carefully, he dribbles the ball once, then bends his knees and shoots again. The ball dings off the rim, and I reach to my left to grab it before it smacks into the fence at the edge of the driveway.

“Good, that’s good. Maybe we should break for lunch.”

All I get from Jak is a nod as he gives the basket a calculating look. I’ve got to hand it to the kid, he’s determined. For two weeks we’ve been working on his shot, and he’s hardly improved at all, but he won’t give up.

I’m not exactly sure how our house ended up being Jak’s daycare center. The last three weeks of spending my days with Jak and Maria have been interesting to say the least. About a week after Max moved out he got a job in Kyle’s office doing data entry or something—I don’t know—it’s a job involving letters, numbers, and a computer. Anyway, I’m getting used to having the kid around.

The first thing I notice as we walk in the back door are the vegetables strewn out over the countertop. Jak hops up on a barstool at the island in the center of the kitchen, and stares at the food, obviously puzzled.

“Are you making lunch?” I ask.

Maria is peeling a carrot at the sink and pauses for a moment to look up at me, “Um, yeah, I felt like salad. Is that ok?”

I nod and walk into the laundry room off the kitchen, to wash up in the sink. This is the first time she’s done anything like this, and I’m not sure how to react. I’m glad—hell, I’m thrilled, but I probably shouldn’t make a big deal of it. She doesn’t like to draw attention to herself; she’d rather stay in the background. Last week she started making Allie’s lunches, and when I commented that it was “nice of her” she gave me a wounded look.

Jak looks up at me as I re-enter the kitchen, and his voice is monotone as he speaks, “I need to relieve myself.”

“ Ok…” this is the weird stuff that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. It’s as if everything he does requires an announcement. “Go ahead.”

He jumps off the stool and walks out of the room without a word. Naturally, he wouldn’t make his announcement to Maria. Generally, he ignores her—he’s still not over his human prejudice.

“Need any help…?” I ask Maria.

Her tongue slips out to wet her lips, and she glances at me, “No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Ok,” I sit down on the stool Jak vacated and watch her as she moves around the room.

At first, it bothered her when I watched her. She would grow uncomfortable, and huddle up in a chair or something until I stopped. Really, it’s one of the changes in her that bothers me the most. When we were younger, she loved it when I watched her; she’d play up to me—try to turn me on…

It’s probably not a good time to think about that.

“Max called,” she says softly as she begins arranging lettuce in the three soup bowls she’s laid out.

“Yeah?”

“He’ll be here an hour early today.”

“Hmm…” I nod, watching as she carefully slices three boiled eggs. There really shouldn’t be anything sensual about that. I tear my eyes away from her and play with a cd case someone left on the counter. “What do you call this salad again?”

She laughs a little, and I have to look at her. It’s rare.

“You still don’t remember what it’s called?” her eyes almost shine as she looks at me for a moment.

“Yeah, well, you know—keeping salad names straight isn’t exactly a priority—.”

“ Chef’s salad, Michael.”

“Right. Chef’s salad.”

I should have remembered. She used to make them all of the time. Sundays. On Sunday afternoon, that’s when she ate Chef’s salads.

“I’ve been craving one,” she smiles as she begins to tidy the kitchen.

“Did you miss them?” my voice is too low, and I know it, but I have to keep her talking, anything to keep the smile on her face.

“Yeah,” she nods and giggles, “I missed them, and french fries.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

The stool next to me makes a scraping sound against the tile as Jak pulls it out. Maria quickly busies herself with the salads and the spell of the last few moments is broken.

***

“Go. Go!” I hear Allie whisper harshly from the hallway.

“No. I have not decided—.”

“ Ugh, just go.”

Suddenly, Jak appears in the doorway of my studio. It looks like he’s being pushed forward, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s behind him.

“Hey,” I say as wipe my hands. “Your dad is gonna’ be here soon, he’s getting off work an hour early.”

He nods at me, and I hear Allie whisper again, she’s probably plastered against the wall just outside the door. She still hasn’t realized that being out of sight and out of hearing range are two entirely different things.

“ Tell him,” she hisses.

Something is afoot, and I’m hoping it will explain why Allie and Jak were even more hostile to one another than usual on the car ride home after we picked her up from school.

“What’s up, Jak?” I prompt him.

“They wish to know where I am,” he says.

He looks nervous. Jak doesn’t show a lot of emotion, and he doesn’t start many conversations.

“Who wants to know?” I ask, walking toward him.

His brow furrows, and he takes a moment before answering me with a simple, “ They do.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

Jak looks perplexed and takes a breath as though he’s going to speak, but then he doesn’t. Allie chooses this moment to peak around the doorway. I raise my eyebrows at her, and she hesitantly steps out next to Jak.

I don’t like what I’m hearing, it’s creating a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I need details.

“I need to know who, Jak. And, I need to know how.”

“How what?” Allie asks.

I have no idea how she’s mixed up in whatever this is, but the feeling in my stomach is turning from dread to panic.

“How are they speaking to him? How did ‘they’ tell him they want to know where he is?” I’m trying to keep my voice steady, I can’t frighten them.

Jak is looking out the window, and Allie elbows him. He whips his head and gives her an angry look, then turns back to me.

“The ones from home want to know where I am,” Jak says.

Shit.

“It’s a shadow, Dad,” Allie looks at me.

I swallow hard, “How do you know that, Allie?”

She makes a face and jerks her thumb at Jak, “ He showed me.”

“I did not intend to show her,” Jak says looking back at me.

I nod at them, and run a hand through my hair, somehow managing to keep calm. I’m not sure how Jak showed her, right now I’m guessing it was a flash.

“What do you mean it was a shadow?” I look at Allie.

“It’s just a shadow, talking without saying anything,” she says with a shrug.

“When did this happen, Jak?”

He looks over at Allie and she rolls her eyes and elbows him again, he takes another breath and whispers, “Three days ago.”

“Ok, good,” Allie sighs with a smile, obviously feeling her task is completed. Without another word, she walks out of the room.

“Jak, it’s all right, there’s nothing to be scared of,” I say, wishing I believed it.

“I am not frightened,” Jak says, looking puzzled.

“Ok. Well, if they talk to you again, don’t tell them anything.”

He looks at me for a moment, then nods.

I glance at my watch; Max should be here in ten minutes. Giving Jak as much of a smile as I can muster, I turn back to the brush I was using when they walked in and try to look busy. As soon as I hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway I drop the brushes, throw my hand out to close the door and sound-proof the room—then I put my fist through the wall.

***

“What are we supposed to do? Just sit here and hope nothing happens?”

“Michael, I don’t know what you want to do. I’m telling you, there are barely any remnants left of Khivar’s forces. Just tiny groups that are too busy trying to stay alive to do anything that would take as much power as contacting Jak on the other side of the galaxy!”

“So, what, you think he’s imagining this?”

“No, of course not. I’m just saying that I have no idea what we should do about it. We haven’t exactly been hiding, if they really wanted to find us they could, with or without Jak.”

“Exactly, we should just be glad that we’ve had some warning. I’m not letting those bastards get at my family again, Max. We have to do something.”

“What? You tell me— what? What can we do, Michael?”

Max leans against the wall and crosses his arms. I want to wipe that longsuffering look off his face. Why isn’t he more upset about this? It’s as if he’s resigned to the fact that something bad might happen.

But, I don’t have any idea what to do either. I’m helpless, again.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should just try to keep a close eye on everyone.”

“Right,” Max nods, “good idea.”

He’s actually listening to me. His eyes meet mine as he lets his head bang back against the wall, and I think he’s waiting for me to say more.

I clear my throat, and try to sound decisive, “I think you should talk to Jak, tell him what to do if this happens again.”

“What should I tell him to do?”

Hold the phone, I think he’s actually waiting for me to tell him what to do. This is weird. Max has been handling the alien stuff for so long, it’s surprising to see him this lost.

“Tell him not to say anything. It would be nice if we could find a way to block them out of his mind. I don’t suppose Tess could be of any help in that department?”

Max shrugs, “I’m going to see her tomorrow, I need to speak to my people who are taking care of her. I could ask her while I’m there, sometimes she’s fairly lucid. Well, occasionally.”

“Good. All right. Good plan,” I nod to reassure myself. At least we’re doing something, being proactive. It’s better than waiting around for something to happen.

“We need to let everyone know to be extra careful,” Max says with a far away look. No need to guess who he’ll be calling first.

“Yeah,” I say releasing the sound hold on the studio before I walk out of the room. Oddly enough, there’s less tension between Max and I at this moment than there has been in the entire time since Maria’s been back.

Maria is standing at the foot of the stairs in the hallway, and her eyes follow me as I approach.

She’s not nearly as frightened anymore. She doesn’t jump quite as much at loud noises, and she doesn’t blindly obey every word I say. Things are actually on an up-turn. For at least five minutes while she was making lunch today, she seemed happy. Now, I have to tell her that there’s danger again.

“I need to talk to you,” I say quietly, reaching out to touch her elbow and nudge her in the direction of my studio.

Her eyes dart to Max as he walks past us into the kitchen calling for Jak.

“Ok,” she whispers, walking along with me.

A movement at the top of the stairs catches my eye, and I look up to see Allie watching us.

“What’s going on, Dad?” she asks me.

Maria stops to look up at her as well.

“Nothing,” I say, looking away from her. I don’t like to lie, but I don’t want to scare her.

“What?” she asks beginning to descend the steps, her face worried. “What is it?”

I have to tell her something, but she can read me like a book. She’ll know I’m lying.

“It’s really nothing,” Maria says as Allie steps off the bottom stair and comes to stand in front of us.

“I didn’t ask you. I asked my Dad.”

At moments like this, when she knows I won’t say anything to her, Allie really lets her hostility toward Maria show. I don’t understand it, I can’t even begin to comprehend it, but it’s simply a fact of life. It’s been better lately, or Allie’s better at hiding it anyway. Maria tries not to let it bother her, but I know it does.

“Allie…” I was going for a warning tone, but it came out sort of flat.

It doesn’t really affect her, she simply moves her gaze from Maria to me.

“Is this about what I made Jak tell you?”

“Yeah,” I say. Better to tell her at least part of the truth. “It’s nothing bad; I just want to tell your mom about it.”

She stares at both of us, still looking confrontational. There’s more to the story, and she knows it.

Time to get parental.

“Did you clean up the Legos you and Jak had out in the living room?” I ask, trying to sound as in-charge as possible.

Allie makes a face, she knows I’m trying to change the subject, but she also know this is something legitimate. I narrow my eyes, and her shoulders droop as she purses her lips—ha! I’ve got her.

“No, not yet,” she mumbles, making an effort at a contrite face.

“Go, right now. I told you to do that an hour ago.”

“Ok,” she says turning away.

I look at Maria. She raises her eyebrows and gives me an impressed look. We slip into the studio before Allie has a chance to ask questions again.

***

“I don’t get it. Where is the grass supposed to go?”

“I want it in the corner,” Allie barely looks up from cutting some red construction paper to gesture at the poster board in front of us.

I glance at Maria, she looks skeptical. The corners are already filled.

“There isn’t room in any of the corners,” I say, hoping to drag Allie’s attention away from the scissors in her hand.

“Put it in the middle, then,” Allie says, giving me a look of irritation.

I have no idea why she waited until after dinner to tell us that she had this “My Backyard” project due in class tomorrow. She’s never had a take home assignment before, and I didn’t know I should be on the lookout for one. Turns out she’s known about it for a week but waited until the last night to get it done, so first we were running around in the backyard with flashlights and now, an hour past her bedtime, we’re in the kitchen trying to finish it.

Really, I’m torn about helping her with this. I remember when I was a kid, coming into the classroom on the morning that a big project was due—watching everybody’s parents help them to bring in their large displays and full scale models. Actually I remember the first time I had an assignment like that, I’d gone home and built a bridge out of the box of toothpicks the teacher had given each of us. The next morning, I’d slipped out of my desk and discreetly thrown it in the trash after I saw what the other kids brought in. Mine had looked ridiculous in comparison, and I don’t think I ever did an assignment like that again.

“Ok, it’s done,” Allie holds up the yellow sheet of poster board which is weighed down beneath bits of glued on foliage, each with a small red construction paper label underneath. Well, she did most of it herself; we only helped with the gathering and gluing.

Maria puts on hand on her cheek and pretends to study it closely as if she’s putting a lot of thought into her analysis, “I think it looks really good. The red labels on the yellow background are a nice touch.”

Allie regards her mother for a moment, weighing the compliment; she chose the colors on her own. After a second she nods at Maria, and seems to mean it when she mumbles, “Thanks.”

Next, her big brown eyes travel to me, and her eyebrows rise expectantly.

“It’s fine,” I say, “time for bed.”

Allie’s eyes fall, and she places the sheet carefully on the table before turning to leave the room.

“Hey-!”

My head flies up at the sound of Maria’s voice, and Allie whirls around from the hallway to stare back. Maria speaks, but not often, and never loudly. For a minute, she sounded like herself—her old self.

“Yeah?” Allie takes a hesitant step back toward us. She seems upset, her face looks drawn.

Maria gives her a brief smile, “Ask your teacher to be careful with it, so that we can hang it up on the refrigerator when you bring it home.”

I’m not sure what Maria means until a vision of the Evans’ refrigerator pops into my head, when we were young it was always littered with “A+” papers and drawings done in crayon. Our refrigerator is bare. Damn.

Skeptically, Allie raises her eyebrows for a moment, then turns to mount the staircase. Over her shoulder, she says a quiet, “Kay…”

As Maria walks into the kitchen my eyes are drawn to her, and I have to lick my lips before I can speak, “I never thought of that.”

“It’s nothing,” she says, glancing up at me.

No. It’s everything. This is why we need her…why Allie needs her…why I need her.

“I never think of things like that.”

***

“No way. It’s already way past your bedtime, you’ve got school in the morning and a game tomorrow night.”

“All right, so tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, two chapters tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

I pull Allie’s blankets up under her chin. We need to talk about the flashes she got from Jak, but I’m not sure how to bring it up. Explaining ‘alien stuff’ to a little kid is tricky.

“You know, earlier today, when you said Jak ‘showed’ you what happened?”

She bites her lip and nods, “Yeah.”

“That’s one of those special things that happen to us sometimes. It doesn’t happen with most people.”

“Yeah, I know, Dad.”

Wow, she’s really catching on to this whole thing. Something weird happens to you, assume it’s alien and get on with your life—that’s what Max, Iz, and I always did.

“You know? Ok, cool.”

“That’s not the first time it’s happened,” she says.

“What else has Jak shown you?”

“Not Jak. That was the first time with Jak, because I was trying to teach him how to shake hands. But it’s happened with Max and Isabel before.”

The first thing I want to ask her is why she never told me before, but I don’t want to make it seem like a big deal.

“With Max and Iz? When?”

She shrugs, “Lots of times. Max shows me Liz and some boy—I think it’s Jak, but it doesn’t look like him, they’re always doing something funny while Max follows them with a video camera.”

Ok…

“What about Isabel?”

Allie laughs a little and raises her eyebrows, “Isabel shows me stuff all the time. Max hardly ever does anymore.”

“What does she show you?”

“Um, you a lot, Max, a dark haired guy, Uncle Kyle, her mom and dad…Sometimes she’s in the desert with a baby and you, sometimes you have funny hair, and sometimes I’m there too.”

“Oh…”

“Dad? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I shake my head vehemently, trying to process what she just told me.

“Ok. So, good night?”

She’s staring at me, waiting for me to answer. I give her a quick kiss on the forehead and leave the room, heading for my bedroom. When I walk in, Maria is in one of the chairs by the window—on the phone, again.

“I’ve got to go, bye,” she says hurriedly into the receiver, quickly clicking the off button.

“You didn’t have to do that just because I walked in the room,” I say as I sit down on the bed.

Maria nods. She probably called her mom, or Liz, or was checking on Tess.

“Do you think we’ll have any warning if someone finds us through Jak?”

I glance in her direction. Earlier, when I explained everything to her, she didn’t have any questions.

“No,” I watch her face carefully as I speak, she doesn’t show fear, only resignation—like Max. “We’ll just have to be careful. Max, Isabel, and I aren’t helpless.”

“The rest of us are.”

Her words hang in the air between us. She doesn’t mean to imply that I failed to save her before, but it’s there just the same. I’d like to be the ‘man’ and tell her that everything will be all right—that I can protect her—but I can’t. This is the reason she doesn’t want me anymore, because life with me promises her nothing but fear.

Maria clears her throat, “What about Liz?”

“I don’t think anyone would try to use Liz to get to us, she and Max have been over for a long time.”

She looks at me uncertainly, “What exactly happened? Liz told me they grew apart.”

I smile, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. She got tired of his searching for a way back, like the rest of us. We thought it was useless, that we should just get on with our lives.”

“So, they just drifted?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t really have much to do with any of us, except Kyle.”

“Oh,” she nods, and then sighs, “I’m glad Max didn’t stop trying.”

I hadn’t really thought about that. If he had let us dissuade him, Maria wouldn’t be standing in front of me right now. And, he was right; he did find a way to get Jak back. Granted it took a few years, but he did it. Damn, I don’t want to owe anything else to Max Evans.

“Yeah, me too,” I say softly, watching her as she arranges her hair carefully around her face, hiding her cheeks. No matter what, even if she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I’m more than grateful that she’s back. If I were sappy, I’d say it was a ‘dream come true’, but really it’s more like a restoration. This is the way things should have been, Maria should be with Allie.

Almost as if she can read my thoughts, Maria looks into my eyes and smiles softly. She should hate me, but she doesn’t, and her smile shakes me. Everyone one has a different theory regarding Maria’s refusal to resume a relationship with me and everyone has a different theory about our future. Not me, I know why she doesn’t want me, and I know that we have no future, I accept it—at this point, I’m no stranger to pain, I can deal. It’s not the reality of our relationship that’s the worst thing for me. No, it’s the smile. The smile gives me hope, and that’s a dangerous thing.

***

My attention is drawn away from the game briefly when I see Isabel walk in the double doors of the gym. Head Coach Kyle stiffens at my side, and I know he saw her as well. Things have been relatively normal between him and me since we started team practices a couple of weeks ago, Kyle isn’t really a grudge holder. Isabel, however, has been a point of contention between us for a while.

Isabel smiles at Maria, but sits next to Max. I have to force myself to look away from her, I haven’t actually laid eyes on her since her birthday party. Maria, Allie, and I came home from the grocery store a few weekends ago to find that Isabel had taken every item she owned from our house—almost as though she was surgically removing any proof that she’d ever been there. I wanted to call her and talk to her, but I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t do anything, and neither did she. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever gone this long without seeing her.

The game is over, and we all crowd around the bench together as Allie passes out bottled sports drinks to the team. Head Coach Kyle looks sufficiently pleased with the team’s victory, accepting congratulations from the other parents with a smug smile. This is our third season of coaching Allie’s youth league team.

Allie is hugging Isabel as if she hasn’t seen her for years, and I feel a pang of guilt that the awkwardness between Isabel and I could be affecting her. I walk over to them, as Isabel picks the little girl up.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she says, as she smoothes Allie’s neat braids with a questioning look. I’ve been fighting Allie’s hair most of her life, but last week Maria took over on a busy school morning and she’s been doing it ever since.

Allie lifts her head to look at me, her arms tightening around Isabel’s neck defensively.

“So, how are things?” I ask in a polite tone of voice.

“Good, good,” Isabel nods, as she smiles down at Allie, barely sparing a glance for me, “and you?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

We stand in silence for a moment before Allie speaks, “Iz! Uncle Kyle is taking me out for pizza, wanna’ come with us?”

Isabel glances at me as if for approval, and I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. This isn’t right.

“Sure, sweetie, I’d love to,” Isabel says to Allie who has been held long enough and is squirming to be released.

We both watch her run to Kyle, then turn back to each other. Everything is awkward, and wrong.

“The team looks good this year,” she says.

“Yeah, they’re— Iz, where have you be—.”

“How is Allie doing in school?”

Cut off. I know better than to fight it.

“Ok. She’s making friends and stuff.”

Isabel smiles a little, “I knew she would.”

“Yeah,” I nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Max has Jak at one of the empty hoops, and they’re practicing his shot.

“Are you happy, Michael?”

My attention is fully on Isabel again, her expression seems thoughtful, and I’m not sure how to respond. Am I happy? I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.

“Yeah, I guess…”

I can’t look at Isabel, so my gaze sweeps the gym. Kyle is across the room, lifting Allie up so that she can get a drink from the water fountain. Maria is standing alone by the bleachers.

“Michael. That’s not an answer. Maria is back, are you happy?”

“Yeah, Iz, I’m happy,” I look into her eyes, “of course I’m happy that she’s alive.”

Isabel looks a little frustrated, “I know you’re happy she’s alive. Are you happy that she’s with you?”

Does Isabel think Maria and I are together? I heard what she said to Max, I know she thinks we will be. My thoughts of Maria cause my eyes to swing in her direction. She’s been cornered by a couple of the mothers from Allies team, and she looks nervous.

“Iz, I…” I nod in Maria’s direction before I walk away toward her.

My hand slips protectively around Maria’s waist as I reach her.

The other mothers smile and greet me, and I tell Maria that it’s time to go. She smiles politely, gives the other women a good-bye and lets me lead her toward the door.

“I don’t need protection, you know,” she says quietly, pulling away from my arm as we step outside.

“You looked nervous,” I turn to her as we stop on the sidewalk in front of the building to wait for the others.

“I was nervous,” she brings her fingers up to arrange her hair carefully around her face, “but I’m an adult, I can handle myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”

I’m about to argue when I realize exactly what she’s saying. She doesn’t want to be babied and she’s irritated at the way I was treating her. This is Maria.

She crosses her arms sharply, and looks up at me, annoyed, “What are you smirking at? Stop it.”

“What?” I ask her, trying not to laugh.

“What? Don’t ‘ what’ me, you know what— stop laughing!”

I laugh, “I’m not laughing.”

She bites her cheeks, trying not to smile, “You are too.”

“Am not,” this is turning me on.

“Knock it off,” she swats at my arm and turns her head so that I won’t see her laugh.

I want her. I’d like to pull her around the corner of this building and have her, right up against the brick wall.

“What’s so funny?” Kyle’s voice pulls us out of our moment.

We look up to see that everyone else has exited the gym.

Maria shrugs, and I walk over to Kyle and pull Allie off his shoulders.

“Dad, no, I’m taller than Jak up there!”

The comment sets Maria and I laughing again, Allie’s been complaining about being shorter than Jak for weeks, and we have no idea why.

“Kiddo, you wanna’ ride with me to the restaurant?” Kyle asks her as I set her on the ground.

“Yeah,” she nods.

Kyle asks Jak if he wants to ride with them, and I turn, getting ready to walk to my car. Then I meet Isabel’s eyes. She’s standing apart from the rest of us, her face has a pleasant look, but it’s forced. Her eyes flicker away from me to Maria and she puts on a little smile before turning back to meet my gaze. Why do I get the feeling I’ve done something wrong?

Max is pretending to pay attention to Kyle as he receives directions to the pizza place, but his eyes are on me. I swivel to look at him. His expression is grim, and he shakes his head ever so slightly as he meets my eyes.

“We’ll meet you guys there,” I say to no one in particular as I take Maria’s hand and walk to my car.

 

 

 

PART 13

 

 

Maria’s been gone for a week. Amy has to spend Christmas with a dying aunt in Oregon, so she asked Maria to spend a week with her in Roswell before she left. Allie and I slid back into our old routine, but it’s obvious that Maria has made an impact on our lives.

On Monday morning, Allie almost cried when I was doing her hair, suddenly I’m too ‘rough’. Wednesday, she complained because I didn’t put any ‘ants’ on the ‘logs’ in her lunch. I had no idea that Maria was putting peanut butter, Tabasco, and raisins on her celery. The most shocking thing was on Thursday night when we accidentally had a conversation over dinner. I think Maria’s been talking a lot more than I thought she was. To top things off, on Saturday morning Allie wasn’t happy with just dry cereal as we watched cartoons; she wanted the strawberry and banana smoothies Maria had been making us while we watched, and wouldn’t stop bugging me until I made her one.

“Why is it so crowded?”

I look back at Allie, she’s dragging behind so I pull on her hand until she runs a little to catch up with me.

“It’s almost Christmas, everybody’s traveling,” I say.

“ We aren’t,” she says as we sit down in the padded chairs by Maria’s gate.

“Nope.”

“What time is it?”

I pull my sleeve back to look at my watch, “7:30.”

“Ok,” she nods and looks up at the ceiling as though she’s calculating something. I think she’s counting down the hours until Christmas.

“Look, there’s her plane, I think,” I point out the window to an airplane that’s taxiing toward our area of the terminal.

“Oh,” she glances at the plane, then sits back in her chair with a sigh, “I wish she wasn’t back already.”

“What?” I look down at her. I thought she missed Maria, it seemed like she did.

“Nuthin’,” she shrugs, looking a little embarrassed.

“Allie—.”

“Yeah, I know, be nice,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“No. Well—I mean, yeah—but that’s not what I was gonna’ say. I thought you missed her.”

“I didn’t miss her. I like it when it’s just us. Like it used to be,” she leans forward and her eyes widen, as though she’s trying to convince me to see things her way.

A woman’s voice buzzes through the sound system overhead announcing the arrival of Maria’s flight.

“You’re lucky that you have your mom,” I say, trying not to sound angry. To begin with, I could understand Allie’s feelings. Maria had scared her, and I didn’t help things by the way I handled her return. Maybe if Maria were a little more like her old self, not so withdrawn, things would be easier between them.

“Wasn’t it cool when it was just me and you, Dad? I thought it was cool. Now, she’s always there.”

I lack words as I look down at my daughter. Her face is scrunched, and her tone is resentful. Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is?

“Allie…”

She purses her lips and leans around me, “There she is.”

I turn and see Maria walking toward us. She looks different. She looks sexy as hell. Her hair has lighter streaks, and it’s cut a little shorter so that it just brushes her shoulders. It makes her seem more like a woman than a girl. I get to my feet and watch her approach. She’s wearing new clothes, a short black skirt with dark black stockings underneath, and black boots—with heels—God, why does she have to look this good?

“Hi,” I manage to choke out as she approaches us. She gives me a nervous smile and tucks her hair behind her ear on one side. The new style is parted more to the left side so that her hair falls naturally to cover the scar she always worries about on her right cheek, but lays back on the other so that the rest of her face is fully exposed.

“Hey guys,” she says, glancing back and forth between Allie and I.

I squeeze Allie’s hand and she hops to her feet giving Maria a “hi” and a little wave.

The three of us stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“We should get your luggage,” I say to Maria, reaching to take her carry-on bag.

“Yeah, ok,” she nods.

I reach down for Allie’s hand, but I’m juggling Maria’s bag and can’t take it. Seeing my struggle, Maria puts her palm out toward Allie.

“Hold your mom’s hand,” I tell Allie as she scowls. Hesitantly, she puts her hand out to grab Maria’s fingers. She knows she can’t walk around in a place this crowded without holding an adult’s hand. Maria looks up at me, with a slightly sad smile. All I can do is shrug. I can make Allie spend time with her mother, and I can make her behave herself, but I can’t make her care for Maria.

When they touch, they both jump a little and look at each other strangely. Allie’s eyes grow wide for a second, and then she looks at the floor.

Maria looks at me, “Ready?”

We make our way through the terminal toward the baggage claim. We walk past a few fast food places, and suddenly Maria stops.

“Michael?” she turns to me and smiles, pointing at an ice cream stand. The sign above the ice cream case says Ben & Jerry’s.

“We haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

Maria makes a face, she thinks my rules are silly. Something about me and discipline amuses her. She bites back a smile, and I’m face to face with an amused but on the verge of whining Maria.

Allie realizes what we’re talking about when she sees Maria’s finger is pointed toward the ice cream, and before I know it they’re both looking at me with the same expression.

“ But Michael, it’s Christmas.”

“ Daaaad, please?”

“What does Christmas have to do with anything?”

Both of their faces take on a pout, and they’re looking at me from underneath their lashes. I think my heart might actually stop beating. Whatever I do, I’m not going to smile, because this is a rule and we have rules for a reason. I just won’t look at them, and then I won’t fold.

“Please?”

“ Please, Daddy…”

Between ‘Daddy’ and making the mistake of looking at them again, I’m a goner. I reach for my wallet, and Maria lets out a little squeal and Allie smirks.

“Oh! No, Michael, I’ve got it,” Maria says, holding up her purse as proof.

Really? Unless her mom gave her some money I can’t imagine how, but I won’t argue, it bothers her that I buy her things. It bothers me that she can’t simply accept things from me, but I sort of understand.

“Ok, I’ll go wait for the bags. You guys can meet me there.”

They smile and turn away, hand in hand, practically running for the ice cream. I don’t move. I don’t go to the baggage claim. I don’t breathe. I am overcome.

Maria lifts Allie so that she can see into the glass case containing the ice cream. Allie points at about three different kinds through the glass, and I can see Maria laugh and tell her something that makes her smile. They talk for a moment then Maria waves the clerk over so that they can place their orders. While they’re waiting for their ice cream, they talk about something that sets them laughing again.

From where I’m standing, it looks like Allie and Maria are doing fine. Maybe Allie’s just in the habit of disliking her. I somehow manage to get a grip on my emotions and turn in the direction of the baggage claim.

When they catch up to me about ten minutes later, I can’t keep the smile off my face. Maria hands me a cone with a scoop of pistachio, and I grab it with one hand as I shoulder her carry-on and pick up the suitcase I’ve just retrieved.

“So, do you like that flavor?” Allie asks as we enter the parking garage.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I told you he would,” Maria says with a smile. I glance at her, and we hold each other’s eyes for a second. It’s almost electric, I think we’re having a moment.

“You always get chocolate,” Allie says.

I break my gaze with Maria and look down at the cone in my hand, “I haven’t had pistachio for a while.” Not for seven years.

While we drive home, Maria fills us in on her trip to Roswell and tells us everyone’s news. Amy is well, and sorry she can’t spend Christmas with us. Jim can’t get away from work long enough to go anywhere, so he’s stuck alone. Liz had arrived two days before to visit her parents so Maria got to spend some time with her, though she doesn’t sound very enthused about it.

We spend a few minutes in silence after Maria is done speaking. I can hardly keep my eyes off of her long enough to steer the car. I’ve missed her, a lot.

“So, that really was me?” Allie speaks softly from the backseat.

“What?” I ask, glancing at her in the rear view mirror. Her face is scrunched in concentration.

Maria turns around to look at her, “What do you mean?”

I watch in the mirror as Allie shrugs, looking away from Maria as she speaks, “What you showed me. The baby. That was me?”

“Allie, what are you talking about?” I ask, glancing at Maria who is facing forward in her seat again.

“Yes,” Maria says softly, “that was you.”

“Oh,” is Allie’s reply. “Hey, look, Santa!”

I turn to see the Santa walking down the sidewalk. Allie is quiet again. Maria seems shaken in the seat next to me.

When we pull in the driveway at home, Allie babbles something about watching Rudolph on tv as she jumps out and makes a beeline for the backdoor.

I turn to Maria, “What was that all about?”

All she does is shrug without taking her eyes away from the windshield. We sit for a few moments in silence, and then I decide to take in the luggage. I think Maria wants to be alone.

Allie melted the doorknob when she opened the backdoor, and I take a moment to fix it before I walk in with the bags.

“Look, Dad, Rudolph!” Allie calls from the sofa.

“You melted the doorknob again.”

“ Sooorrrrryyy,” she sing-songs while she turns up the volume on the tv to end the discussion.

I walk through the kitchen and up the stairs. Obviously Maria gave Allie a flash. Something about her when she was a baby, but I’m wondering what. It must not have been traumatic, because Allie doesn’t seem scared, she hardly seems affected at all.

I set Maria’s things down in front of the closet and walk over to the window. The SUV looks lonely sitting in the driveway. Maria probably wants to be left alone, but I feel pulled to her. I debate for a minute before walking back out of our room, and practically running down the stairs.

“Where ya’ goin’, Dad?”

“I left something in the car.”

“Ok.”

Outside, I walk directly to the passenger side and open the door. Maria looks at me, her cheeks are tearstained.

“Maria?”

She takes a shaky breath and turns to me with a false smile. Her façade only lasts for a moment, then she’s crying again.

“Th-they took her!” she brings her hands to her face, covering her mouth as her body shakes from the sobs.

I don’t know what to do, I almost touch her, but then think better of it.

“Who took her?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Maria shakes her head and looks at me, gasping, “They told me to feed her, she wouldn’t stop crying. One of them untied my hands, and they put her here,” she places her hand softly on her chest, over her heart. “Th-they told me to keep her quiet…” her voice trails away and her mouth falls open into a silent scream.

I can’t take it anymore, I reach out for her. She comes into my arms willingly, burying her face in my neck. I stand inside the open door of the car, stroking her back slowly.

“Shhh… Don’t cry…” I hold her tight, wanting her to feel safe.

She shakes her head again from where it rests on my shoulder, “ No. I wanted to forget. They had her wrapped up so tightly in the blanket, b-but one of her hands got out, and she h-held my finger. I wanted to forget! They t-took her away!”

The sobs are wracking her body now, and I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself, “Shhh…Maria, don’t cry.”

At my words, she pushes me away, her face is completely red, and her eyes look bruised—she can barely hold them open.

“Michael, they took her. I fed her, and she fell asleep,” she grabs my hand and places my palm on her chest; I can feel her heart beating beneath my fingers, “she fell asleep right here. I wanted to forget. It hurt, so much. I was unwrapping the blanket, I wanted to know what she was—but they took her—they pulled her away…” she moans the last word and falls back against the seat.

“Maria,” I say her name softly. She shakes her head and leans back as I try to hug her again.

“ No. I tried to forget. What does that make me? I tried to forget my baby!”

“ Come here.”

I grab her arms firmly, and pull. She falls limply against me. This time, I’m not letting go. This is my fault, there has to be something I can do.

“ My b-aby….” she keens into my neck.

I stroke her hair softly, like I used to. My other arm tightens around her back and she calms a little. I let my cheek rest on the top of her head. Her hands slide up my back, and she holds me a little closer.

“Shhh…I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Shhh…” my voice is so quiet that I wonder if she can hear me.

She clutches at my back as I whisper softly to her and, after a while, her sobs begin to subside.

“Dad?!”

Allie’s voice startles both of us. We pull apart a little to see Allie walking around the back of the car.

“There you are! Rudolph’s almost over—what’s wrong?”

She looks at us suspiciously and quickly walks up to me.

“Uh, nothing,” Maria wipes at her eyes and feigns a smile.

“She’s crying,” Allie says to me, gesturing at Maria.

“Ah, yeah, she’s… Christmas,” I say, in a lame attempt at an explanation.

Allie thinks over my words for a minute, obviously confused, “She’s Christmas?”

“I’m happy,” Maria takes my cue, “Christmas makes me happy, and I cry.”

“You cry? Because of Christmas?” Allie is skeptical, and looks at me for confirmation.

“Remember when Uncle Kyle cried after that football game last year?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she nods.

“It’s like that. She really likes Christmas, and she gets so happy about it that she cries.”

Maria nods emphatically, and somehow manages to make the smile look more genuine.

“Ok…” Allie scratches her eyebrow and looks at Maria contemplatively, “Maybe she shouldn’t watch Rudolph, then. There’s a lot of Christmas in it, she might cry.”

I look at Maria, and she laughs. Somehow, I don’t think she’s faking it, so I smile at her.

“Right, well, I’m going back inside—before the commercial’s over,” Allie looks back and forth between us, then runs off.

Maria sniffs and sighs, and I look at her. She does seem to be feeling better. I reach out and cup her cheek in my right hand. Her eyes meet mine, and I let the fingers of my other hand touch push her hair out of her face. We stare at one another for a moment. Her hand comes up to cover mine on her face, but then slips down to finger something at the collar of her sweater. A strange look comes over her face, and suddenly she pulls away, quickly rearranging her hair over the right side of her face.

“Sorry, sorry about that,” she says, jumping down to the pavement of the driveway.

“No, I—.”

I reach out for her, but she’s already walking away from me.

Slowly, I follow her, wondering what exactly is going on. At some point in the airport she gave Allie a flash of herself as a baby, and it set off this tearful recollection. Maybe Maria’s trying to deal with the past and put it behind her. Maybe she really wants her life back now.

Having just held her in my arms, it’s hard not to wonder if she wants everything back. I tell myself not to hope as I walk in the door.

***

“I think we should get the mp3 player—the portable one.”

“This is spoiling, Maria.”

“It’s just a tiny little thing.”

“Ok, but we’re gonna’ need a second stocking to hold all of this stuff,” I look down at all of the toys in my arms.

We finished our Christmas shopping before Maria went to Roswell, but we agreed to wait to get the stocking stuffers. The mall is packed with every other person within a twenty mile radius who put off a few purchases til practically the last minute. Max took Allie home with him after he picked up Jak earlier, and we’ve got a few hours to tie up loose ends. Actually, I’m not usually done shopping until Christmas Eve, so finishing on the 23rd is refreshing.

“Silver and pink or silver and blue?” she holds the boxes up in front of my face.

“Blue.”

“Ok, pink it is,” she grins and turns back to the shelf of accessories.

I roll my eyes, “Why did you ask me, then?”

“To get your opinion.”

“You didn’t use it.”

“Yes I did,” she winks at me.

She’s infuriating, and I love it. Last night’s episode seems to have fully released the inner Maria.

“So, are we done now?” I ask, holding up the pile in my arms as evidence that we should be.

“Ok, ok,” she laughs, leading me to the line for the cash registers.

“I wonder if she’ll even have time to open all of this stuff on Christmas day...maybe we’ll have to save some of it for New Year’s,” I say, trying to sound annoyed, baiting her.

“Oh, stop it. Scrooge.”

I make a face, “I don’t want to spoil her. She gets presents from everybody, your mom, Jim, Max, Iz, Kyle—it’s too much.”

“Well, you’ve all had years to do this. This is my first. So what if I spoil her? She’ll be fine,” she says crossing her arms, daring me to argue. I won’t. I just stare at her.

“Ok,” I say.

She smiles, “Besides, a bunch of this stuff is for Jak.”

“Yeah,” I nod.

I took Jak shopping while Maria was gone. We bought presents for Max and Isabel. He sort of got into it—he actually asked me if he could get something for Allie.

We finally make our way through the line, and just when I think we’re finished, Maria pulls me out into the mall.

“Come on, I want to get her an ornament.”

“An ornament for the tree?”

“Yeah, one of those collectibles that’s engraved with the year. I’ll make it a tradition.”

“Ok. Crap, I forgot, we need batteries.”

“Oh,” she pauses and looks at me, “you go to the electronics store, I’ll go get the ornament, and we can meet back here in ten minutes.”

“The lines, Maria.”

“Twenty minutes,” she raises her eyebrows in question with a twinkle in her eye.

“Ok,” I say. She smiles and turns away from me. It’s hard not to watch her. The thing that always made her Maria, whatever it was, seems to have returned. The light step, the big dancing eyes, the almost irrepressible smile, they’ve all resurfaced in the space of a day. Maybe it’s Christmas that has her in such a good mood—or maybe she’s just happy.

I wander through the mall, lugging the bags from the toy store. It takes me a while to find the electronics store, and it takes even longer to get through the check-out line. By the time I get back to the rendezvous point Maria is already there.

Her back is to me, and she’s clutching a small colorful bag in her left hand, letting it bop gently against her jean clad leg; her right hand is fingering the collar of her blouse. As I approach, I become aware of a couple of things. One, she’s looking in the window of a jewelry store; two, even though I can barely see her profile, it’s obvious that her expression is wistful, almost melancholy. I come to a stop a couple of feet behind her, and I’m just barely able to see what she’s looking at over her shoulder. Engagement rings.

Engagement rings?

Blood pounds in my ears, and the whole world seems to slow down. Granted, I’m dense. No one would ever mistake me for Mr. Sensitive Guy, but I’m not stupid—I have some clue as to what it means when you catch a woman looking wistfully at engagement rings.

My palms are sweaty, and I’m trying to control my emotions. I’m feeling a lot of things at once: confusion, fear, elation. In hopes to calm myself, I try to focus. Idiotically I choose the one ring she seems to be staring at as my focal point. Suddenly, I feel a little light-headed and realize I haven’t actually taken a breath since I figured out what she was staring at.

Maria hears me when I take a deep, choking breath and looks up to catch my reflection in the glass. I lick my lips as she whirls around to face me, obviously nervous.

“ H-hey,” I manage to squeak out.

Flattening her back against the glass, and looking like a deer caught in my headlights, she has to try three times before she manages a response, “Uh, hey…”

“Whatcha’ lookin’ at?”

Oh my God, I’m mentally damaged. Why did I ask her that?

She blinks quickly, “Watches.”

“Cool.”

I shake my head to clear the stars shooting into my vision.

“Ready to go?” she asks a little too quickly.

My breath expels sharply, “ Whoa-yeah.”

“Ok.”

We walk toward the parking lot in silence.

***

I have to ring Max’s doorbell three times to get an answer.

“Hello,” Jak says as he opens the door to admit us.

His head, face and shoulders are completely white.

“What are you supposed to be, the Ghost of Christmas Past?” I ask him.

“I do not understand,” he frowns.

Maria is stifling a giggle.

“What did she do to you?” I ask.

I hear Maria take a deep breath, “How do you know Allie—?”

Jak cuts her off, and says dryly, “She poured a powdered baking substance over my head.”

I reach out and take a swipe across his forehead with my index finger, then bring it to my mouth for a taste. Flour. “ALLIE!”

“Yeah, Dad?” she calls sweetly from the kitchen.

I follow her voice into the other room. It’s not a kitchen anymore, it’s a war zone. Max is standing in front of a mixer, covered in flour from head to toe. Allie is wearing an apron, and is sitting on the counter next to Max—she’s only partially covered.

“What did you do?”

She gives me an innocent look, “ I didn’t do it. Max did.”

Max looks up sheepishly from the mixer, “I put the flour in and turned it on and, poof, we’re covered.”

I narrow my eyes, hoping he isn’t covering for her, “Jak said you dumped flour on his head.”

“I did,” she nods proudly. “It wasn’t fair, he was in the other room when it happened, so I threw some on him too. Now we’re all even.”

“Alexandra.”

“ What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me.”

Maria stumbles into the kitchen and comes to a halt beside me, immediately breaking into giggles, “What happened in here?”

“I didn’t do it,” Allie says immediately, pointing at Max emphatically.

“Allie,” I call her attention back to me. “Apologize.”

“Sorry, Max.”

“Not to Max.”

She opens her mouth and shouts toward the other room, “I’m sorry, Jaaaaaaaaak!”

Jak peeks around the corner and stares at her with an annoyed expression.

“Tattletale,” Allie mutters, sticking her tongue out at him when she thinks I’m not looking.

“Alexandra!”

“Sorry, sorry,” she looks embarrassed.

Maria giggles even harder next to me, and I think Max is laughing too.

“What are you trying to make, Max?” Maria asks, as I begin to clean up the kitchen.

“Cookies,” he says, holding up a Christmas tree shaped cookie cutter, “Isabel said she needs them by 7 a.m. tomorrow.”

“Is she still the same way about Christmas?” Maria asks in disbelief.

“Some things never change,” Max says softly.

I’ve got most of the kitchen cleaned, so I walk over to Max and Allie and wave the flour off of them and into neat piles on the flour. I guess Max was too distracted to do it himself. Distracted doing what, I don’t know, because he’s just been staring at the mixing bowl.

“Do you want me to do it?” I ask him.

“Seriously?” he looks at me. “Yeah, please, I sort of…”

“Suck?” I prompt him.

“Yeah.”

“Ok. You go get Jak cleaned up and I’ll get started.”

Max looks uncertain.

“Go on, Max,” Maria smiles, “I’ll get the flour.”

“Thanks,” Max says as he walks away.

Maria grabs a broom and dust bin and starts cleaning up the flour. I pull the bowl out of the mixer as Allie watches me closely from her perch on the countertop.

“I told him to put a towel over it,” she says.

“Did you?”

She nods, swinging her legs so that her feet bang into the cabinets below her in an odd rhthym, “He didn’t listen to me.”

I shake my head in mock disbelief and she lets out a little giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Maria asks from the floor where she’s wiping up the last of the flour with a wet paper towel.

“Allie told him to put a towel over the mixer,” I say from the sink where I’m rinsing out the bowl.

“Yeah? Good idea,” Maria looks at her.

“I know,” Allie nods, “I know to do it because Dad—.”

I rush over from the sink, still drying my hands on the towel and wrap my hand around her mouth, “Shhh.”

“What?” Maria asks.

“Nothing,” I say nonchalantly.

Allie is laughing really hard and pulling my hand away, “One time, Dad—.”

I pick her up off the counter and hold her upside down, “I said ‘Shhh’!”

“What?” Maria’s giggling now too. “What did you do?”

I shrug innocently, “Nothing.”

Allie is dying from laughter, and being upside down isn’t helping, “H-h-h-h-e-e-e Aaaaahhh…” she breaks off in another fit of giggles.

“Michael, what did you do?” Maria is practically doubled in half with laughter.

I just shake my head.

“No,” Allie squeals, “when he was making a cake—.”

I start tickling her stomach ‘til she is laughing so hard that she can barely breathe. Maria is holding onto the countertop for support as she tries to stop cackling.

“Are you gonna’ be quiet now?” I look down at Allie, and she nods, still laughing. I turn her upright and set her on the counter.

“No! You have to tell,” Maria says.

Allie just laughs and I smile shaking my head as I walk to the fridge for some eggs.

“He dumped in the flour when the mixer was on, and it shot all over the ceiling!”

I turn around to look at Allie and she starts laughing again, scooting back on the counter as I draw nearer. I reach my arms out toward her and she screeches, “Ahh, help me!”

Maria grabs her and pulls her out of my reach, still laughing, “I’ll save you!”

I walk over to them, and Maria holds Allie away from me, “Hand her over, she has to be tickle-tortured.”

“Why, because you got flour all over the ceiling? And to think that you gave Max a hard time,” Maria grins at me, and I think I just grinned back.

Snaking out my hand, I grab Maria’s side exactly where she’s most ticklish and she doubles over. I grab Allie out of her mother’s arms and hold her upside down again, she’s already laughing so hard I can’t do anything but laugh with her.

The doorbell rings. I glance out of the kitchen and don’t see Max in the living room, so I walk out to answer it, throwing Allie over my shoulder. It’s probably Iz, here to check on the progress of her cookies.

I open the door.

“ Liz?”

“Michael. Hi,” she’s standing in the doorway with a suitcase next to her.

“What’s up?” I ask, backing away and opening the door wider to let her walk in.

“ Liz?” Maria’s voice sounds from the entry to the kitchen. I turn to look at her. She’s definitely not laughing anymore, and she’s leaning against the wall as though she needs it to hold her up.

“Dad!” Allie pounds on my back. “I can’t see, put me down!”

I set Allie on her feet just as Max walks into the room. He gets this goofy, seasick look and crosses the room to stand just inches in front of Liz.

“Liz. What are you doing here?” he asks.

Liz takes a long look at him, and a deep breath, “I was hoping I could stay here, if you don’t mind. I heard you had your own place and I thought you might have a couch to spare.”

Normally when Liz comes this far west, which isn’t often, she stays with Kyle. She and Kyle have been on the outs since she filled me in on Maria’s location earlier this fall, but I’d have thought that she would stay with us if she didn’t want to stay with him.

Max is staring at Liz and seems to be calculating something. I know he is probably thrilled that she wants to stay here, so my only guess is that he’s wondering why. He finally manages to stutter, “Yes. Sure.”

“Thanks,” Liz says with a small smile.

Well, well, well—Yes, Max, there is a Santa Claus. Liz showing up out of the blue, asking to stay with him—it can only mean one thing. Really, I’m surprised, I’d honestly given up hope on these two a long time ago, but it looks like Liz is gonna’ bite the bullet and be the bigger person. Cool.

“Right,” I interrupt Max and Liz’s little stare-a-thon, “let’s go finish the cookies, Allie.”

I catch Maria’s eye as I walk into the kitchen and raise my eyebrows. She gives me a little smile, but seems distracted. She’s staring at Liz.

***

Allie is asleep in the backseat, and Maria is staring out the passenger side window. We left Max’s as soon as the cookies were done. Maria seemed as anxious to leave them alone as I was.

I glance at Allie in the rearview, her head is thrown to the side and her mouth is hanging open. She was happy tonight, really happy.

My mind is playing a looped version of the three of us in Max’s kitchen. I think that’s what real families are like. Jokes, laughter, smiles—it was like a Hallmark commercial—but it was real, and it was mine. It is mine.

When I was a kid, I wished I had a real family. A family like Max and Iz had: one with parents and grandparents and jell-o molds at holiday meals. It didn’t take me long to realize I wasn’t ever going to have that, or that if I did it would be a bizarre alien version. For a long time I still hoped it would happen, in the back of my mind, in the vulnerable place where you hold onto impossible dreams. I guess the last vestiges of that hope died with Maria.

Maria isn’t dead, though, she’s sitting in the seat next to me. Our daughter is asleep in the backseat. Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here in this car with me, and I’m not letting go.

 

 

 

PART 14

 

 

“Dad, what if the tree dies?”

“The tree won’t die.”

“But, how do you know?”

“Allie…” I look at Maria and roll my eyes, Allie isn’t happy that we had to stop for groceries for Christmas Eve dinner. The tree is strapped to the roof of my vehicle; it’s got a lot better chance of being stolen than it does of dying while we stand here with fifty other people in the check-out line.

I’m anxious to get out of here, too, but I have my own reasons. I need to run back to the mall before the gang shows up tonight. Maria is holding a carton of whipping cream and eagerly reading a tabloid with the glaring headline “Millionare Wakes From Five Year Coma”. The woman in front of us is taking her sweet time counting out all of her coupons, and I wish Maria had let us get in the express lane. We were only three items over.

“Dad, did you remember to wrap my present for Uncle Kyle?” Allie looks up at me plaintively.

“I thought you were gonna’ wrap it.”

“I didn’t.”

“We’ll do it when we get home,” I say.

“What if we don’t have time?”

“We’ll have time.”

“What if the tree dies because we spent too much time wrapping Uncle Kyle’s fishing rod?”

“We’ll finish the tree first.”

“What if we don’t get the present wrapped because we spent too much time on the tree?” she asks with a smile.

I roll my eyes. The never-ending question and answer session—always my punishment for forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to, like enter the supermarket.

“ Allie…” I look to Maria, hoping she’ll jump in and help me. She seems too engrossed in the tabloid to notice.

***

Kyle holds the camera out to me and says, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

I pull my eyes away from Maria long enough to give him a smirk. It’s not like I’m staring, it’s just that Maria and Liz seem to be having some sort of argument in the kitchen and I’m trying to keep an eye on them.

“She seems happy,” he says, leaning against the wall next to me.

“Yeah,” I nod as I watch her shake her head emphatically at Liz. Well, she was happy, until Max and Liz arrived a few minutes ago.

“That’s good. She deserves to be happy.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a real conversationalist today, man,” Kyle laughs.

“Sorry.”

Kyle continues to laugh as he pulls the camera back up to his eye and switches it to take video. He seems to be recording Jak and Allie as they discreetly throw walnuts at one another. When the doorbell rings I’m a little surprised. I walk away from Kyle to answer it, and catch Max watching me curiously from the sofa.

Isabel. Isabel is at the front door.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, opening the door to let her all of the way in.

She acts a little taken aback, “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, no. I mean, why are you at the front door?”

“I can do a lot of things, Michael, but I can’t walk through walls. How else did you expect me to get inside?” she raises her eyebrows challengingly at me, and I don’t know what to do. I expect her to walk through the backdoor, I expect her not to act as if she’s a stranger in this house.

“Iz!” Max walks into the entryway and saves me from the awkwardness I was just feeling.

“Merry Christmas, Max,” Isabel walks past me as though I’m not even here, and walks with her brother into the living room.

What did I do?

***

Everyone leans forward to watch Jak open his first gift. I think Max is about to cry, which is making everyone else really emotional. Isabel is silently tugging on Kyle’s arm, to make sure he gets the entire thing on video.

Jak can sense that everyone is intent upon what he’s doing, and seems almost embarrassed by the attention. He looks up at Max uncertainly as he starts pulling at the tape on the paper, and all Max does is smile and nod at him.

“Oh man, just rip it! Rip!” Allie says exasperatedly, demonstrating with her hands.

I turn to give Allie a look, but all she does is shrug at me. Actually, I think she broke the tension. Jak is ripping the paper, and everyone else has relaxed a little.

When the paper is off, Jak stares at the basketball uncertainly, then looks up at me, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I say with a nod. He nods back.

Allie tears into her first package just as soon as Jak is done. She pulls some ear muffs out of the paper, and makes a face as Kyle laughs.

“Told you I was gonna’ get them for you,” Kyle says.

Making a perplexed face, she says a hesitant, “Thanks, Uncle Kyle.”

After a few more minutes, the kids have unwrapped all of their packages, and I can see Allie eyeing the boxes still remaining under the tree, she has to wait until Christmas morning to open my gifts. Maria notices where Allie's attention is, and she smiles at me. She hasn't taken her eyes off Allie all night, I know what tonight means to her. Christmas never really meant much to me until Maria came along, and I always tried to make it special for Allie because I knew it’s what she would have wanted.

//"Michael, let me take a picture."

I look up into Amy's face, and try to ignore the tears pooled in her eyes.

"Here, you take her, I'll take the picture."

Allie clings to my neck as I try to hand her off to her grandmother, and we're at a standstill. It’s time to get dressed so that we can make the midnight service, and I know we aren’t getting away with just the snapshots we’ve taken of Allie all night. Amy tries to replace the green bow that Allie took out of her hair and threw in the corner a few minutes ago. I give Allie a look, to try to make her leave it alone for a while, and she makes a little pout, but doesn’t reach for it—yet—you can’t make a three year old wear something in her hair if she doesn’t want to.

"Why don't you both just stay there, and I'll take the picture?" Isabel takes the camera from Amy's hand and smiles at us. "Move a little to your left, in front of the tree—there, that's it."

Amy stands next to me, and I turn Allie in my arms to face the camera.

"Smile, baby," Amy says to Allie, smoothing her hair away from her face.

Allie make a whining sound, and I look down at her, "Smile."

"Cookie," she says softly, looking back and forth between me and her grandmother.

I roll my eyes at Amy. Kyle kept feeding her sweets before he and Jim left to go back to his place to get ready. She's probably right on the verge of being sick.

"No more cookies."

" Daddy."

"No."

“Allie, sweetie,” we all look up at the sound of Isabel’s voice, “smile for me.”

At Isabel’s urging, Allie grins, and the photo is taken quickly. I set Allie down on the floor and watch her scamper over to Isabel. The place is decked out in full Isabel Christmas regalia: garlands, wreaths, white lights, red bows, and the center piece of it all—the tree. The first thing she’d said when she saw the house right before I bought it was that she could put a ten foot tall tree in the living room.

“Ok,” Amy says with a smile, “I’m off to get dressed.”

“Oh, me too,” Isabel slaps her forehead as if she’d forgotten that she needed to change, “I left my dress in my car, I have to go get it.”

Amy grabs a piece of fudge from the kitchen counter, then hurries upstairs while Isabel exits out the back door. I look down at Allie who is trying to sit on the big stuffed puppy that Jim gave her. She keeps slipping off of it every time she tries.

“Why do you want to sit on it?” I ask her.

She looks up at me and scrunches up her nose, “Doggy go outside.”

“Doggy go outside?”

All she does is smile, and I just have to smile back because I have no idea what she’s talking about. When she slips off the dog at her next attempt, I walk over to try to help her sit on it. If she wants to sit on it, she can sit on it, I don’t really need to know why. I manage to get her seated on the dog, which makes it’s legs collapse out onto the floor. She giggles and starts slapping it on the head, “Go! Go!”

I move in front of her and grab the dog by it’s nose and start pulling her across the floor. She loves it, and she’s laughing and trying to say, “Go” but can’t quite get it out over her giggles.

“Aren’t you getting dressed?” Isabel’s voice interrupts us from the backdoor.

“She is dressed,” I say, continuing to pull Allie across the hardwood. Amy dressed her in this green velvet dress with green ribbons all over the place. I had to re-attach two of the little ribbon flowery things around the neckline when Allie pulled them off during dinner.

“I meant you, Michael.”

I look up at her, puzzled, “I’m dressed too.”

Isabel makes a face, “You’re wearing jeans.”

“And,” I say raising my eyebrows, “a sweater. See, dressed up.”

She rolls her eyes at me and walks over by the tree where we left our opened gifts to be put away after we get back.

“ Allie,” Isabel calls.

Allie instantly looks up and hops off the dog while I’m still pulling her, which leaves me off balance, and practically falling backwards.

“Iz?” Allie says, walking over to her.

“Here, go give Daddy the present he opened earlier so that he can wear it tonight,” Isabel says, giving me a look.

I groan, and look at Allie who has already started to bring the box toward me, dragging one end of it on the floor, “I’m already dressed, take it back to Isabel.”

Perplexed, Allie turns back to give Isabel a questioning look.

“Go, give it to him,” Isabel whispers nodding her head in encouragement.

Allie continues trudging across the floor toward me, and all I can do is glare at Isabel. I know what’s in the box, it’s a shirt and tie. A sweater and jeans would have been good enough in Roswell, I don’t know why it isn’t here.

“Thanks,” I say when Allie drops the box at my feet. She smiles at me and then runs off to try to sit on her stuffed dog again.

I pick up the box and give Isabel one last nasty look as she starts to walk toward the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “Wear that with your dark grey suit.”

“ Suit?” I call after her, but she’s already gone up the stairs. Damn. This just keeps getting better.

Allie jabbers something about “Daddy” and “box”. I walk over to her, wondering what she wanted. She looks up at me from her dog’s back, “Daddy put on box?”

I laugh a little and take the lid off the box to show her the shirt which has the tie laid out on top of it, “No, I have to wear this.”

“Oh,” she nods, then she tilts her head to the side, “ You going?”

“We’re going to church,” I say.

“ Chirp?”

“Church.”

“Chirp.”

“Ch-ur- ch,” I annunciate it slowly.

She purses her lips, she hates it when I try to make her pronounce thing correctly, so she tries a word she does know, “Why?”

Good question. Simple answer: because I know it’s what her mother would want.

“Because it’s Christmas Eve.”

“ Oh,” she says emphatically as she bites her lip and nods again. She’s so funny when she pretends to understand something.

“Well, I’m ready,” Amy says as she comes breezing into the room.

I look up at her, “Can you watch her?” I sigh and hold up the box, “I have to get dressed.”

Amy gives me a wink, “Sure.”

I take a deep breath and head toward the stairs.//

“Michael? Michael.”

Kyle’s voice shakes me out of my reverie, “Huh?”

“I said, don’t you think Allie should try on the ear muffs?” he holds up the fluffy pink things and points at Allie who is giggling and backing away.

“Oh, no! No way,” she half screams as turns to run and he takes off after her.

I watch after them and Maria catches my eye from where she’s standing by the tree. Maria. The real thing, here, for Christmas. She smiles at me, and I feel my heart twist in my chest. Tonight’s the night, I think she’s ready to give me another shot, and being an ‘all or nothing’ kind of guy I intend to find out.

***

“Yeah, ok, we’ll see you there,” Max says as he and Liz head for the backdoor.

Liz looks at me for a minute, and it makes me feel sort of odd. It’s a funny look, almost as if she’s sizing me up or something.

“Liz?” I raise my eyebrows at her, feeling slightly irritated.

She shakes her head and looks at Max briefly, then back at me before saying, “It’s nothing.”

“No, what?” I take a couple of steps toward her.

Max gives me a funny look and calls out to Jak who is staring out one of the living room windows with Isabel, “Jak, come on, we need to go home and get ready.”

I ignore Max, and keep my attention focused on Liz. She’s biting the insides of her cheeks as though she’s unhappy about something and she’s looking everywhere but at me. She tries to act nonchalant as she watches Jak walk toward Max.

“Liz.”

She looks my way at the sound of my voice, and she puts on a false smile. Ok, something’s up.

“Ready to go, Liz?” Max asks, his hand on Jak’s shoulder, but his eyes on me.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, turning toward the door to exit ahead of them.

I’m about to reach for her when Jak does it for me. His hand finds her arm, and I’m astounded. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him voluntarily touch a human.

Liz stops in her tracks and looks at the boy. It seems as though he wants her to do something, but she seems puzzled as to what. Max and I are the only ones who realize the enormity of the fact that he’s touching her, and I think we’re both a little dumbfounded.

“Jak,” Liz says softly, reaching out to put her hand on his cheek. “I think your Dad wants us to go home now so that we can go to the service tonight. It’s Christmas Eve, and that’s a special, peaceful time for families.”

Special, peaceful? She sounds like a greeting card.

Jak watches her for a moment, and then nods. Max looks flabbergasted, and as Liz walks out the door, he turns to me with wide eyes.

“He touched her,” Max says quietly. I don’t know why he’s trying to be quiet, Jak is standing right in front of him and can hear everything he’s saying.

“I saw that,” I look down at Jak. His eyes dart to the side, it’s almost as if he hadn’t realized what just happened until Max stated it. Something else must have been on his mind.

“I guess we’ll see you in a bit,” Max says softly, staring at Jak with nothing less than wonder.

Jak catches my eye as they walk out the door and I could swear he wants to tell me something, but I can’t imagine what or why. Max breaks out into a huge smile just as he’s closing the door after them.

“Ok!” Kyle walks into the kitchen, obviously calling for my attention.

I turn to look at him, “Yeah?”

“Here,” he holds the camera out to me, “is the camera. I weeded out the lousy stills, and edited the video a little.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the camera from him. He takes pictorial documentation very seriously, no one knows why.

“See you in a couple of hours,” he says, walking past me toward the door.

“Ok,” I say, turning to watch him go.

Isabel and Allie are the only ones left in the living room. Maria disappeared about ten minutes ago, and since the phone is missing from the kitchen I’m guessing that she’s off somewhere talking to Amy.

I sit down on the couch next to Allie who is busy reading the manual for the new video game Jak got her. It’s been my rule not to let her have a video game console, but last week Kyle told me he bought her one, and I let Jak buy her a game. I’m probably going to have to lay down some ground rules for how much time she can spend on it—and make sure she doesn’t catch me using it too much—I’ll have to talk to Maria about it.

“Do you like that game?” I ask her.

At my question, Isabel looks back over her shoulder from the window to smile at us.

“Yeah,” Allie says, not looking up from the manual.

“Jak thought you would.”

Her head jerks up suddenly and she makes a face, “I thought you probably picked it out.”

“No,” I shake my head, “Jak did.”

“ Oh,” she makes another face and closes the manual, hopping to her feet, taking a few steps toward the hallway.

“Wait, Allie,” Isabel says, walking toward her, “if I don’t see you at the service tonight I’ll see you at my place on New Year’s Eve.”

“Why wouldn’t we see you at the service tonight?” I ask quickly, sitting forward.

Allie walks toward Isabel’s outstretched arms but makes a face as the woman picks her up, “What about tomorrow morning? You’re gonna’ be here tomorrow morning, I have to open the rest of my presents.”

Isabel looks uncomfortable as she gives Allie a tight squeeze, “Uh, it’s Jak’s first Christmas, and I want to see him open his presents in the morning.”

Allie pulls back and looks at Isabel with puppy dog eyes, “Jak always sleeps in. You can watch me first, then watch him.”

Isabel looks at me, as though for help.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say to Isabel, not understanding why, after all of these years, she would want to miss Christmas morning.

Nodding in agreement with me, Allie grabs Isabel’s face in her hands, “See, so you can stay here tonight like always and be here when I first wake up.”

“Oh,” Isabel blushes and, uncharacteristically, she almost stammers, “I…uh, I didn’t bring my things with me, but if you want, I’ll come over in the morning.”

“Your things?” Allie makes a face as though that’s ridiculous. She must know that Isabel used to keep clothes here. Shit, I wonder what else she knew. I never really considered Allie coming into an age of understanding and realizing what it meant when Isabel stayed over about once a week.

While I’m mulling over that new thought, Isabel manages to smooth over the idea of spending the night and sends Allie off toward the stairs with a promise of returning in the morning.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then, if not tonight,” she says, as she walks toward the door. The front door.

“Wait! Iz!” I catch her just as she’s walking out the door, “You knew that you were welcome to come tomorrow morning, right?”

She gives me a small smile and nods, then turns to leave again.

“Isabel.”

Exhaling, she looks back at me. The look on her face makes me feel a little sick. It’s as though she’s preparing for a blow or something.

“You do know that you’re welcome here any time, right?” I narrow my eyes, wondering just what has been going through her mind, “I never wanted that to change.”

At my words, she sort of rolls her eyes, and I can see moisture pooling on her lower lids. As she’s looking up, I see her gaze find the fake mistletoe hanging over the door. We always used to put it in the entry way from the front hall to the kitchen and living room.

Feeling embarrassed, I quickly reach up and pull it down, hiding it behind my back with an excuse of “ Maria.”

Isabel’s eyes raise and the look on her face says that she figured as much. This is very awkward, I’ve never kissed anyone under mistletoe. Stupid tradition. It feels like the thing is burning my hand.

“I’ll see you,” Isabel says quietly. She walks away quickly, knowing I won’t say anything to stop her.

I close the door and stride over to the entrance to the living room, smacking the mistletoe back up in it’s usual place.

***

I lean down and rest my elbows on the countertop of the island in the kitchen. Kyle organized the still pictures neatly by category on the camera, and I’m flipping through the ‘Guerin Candids’. There’s one that catches my eye. It’s of Maria and I sitting on the couch holding Allie. I have her arms pinned to her sides and Maria is holding her feet. The pink earmuffs Kyle bought her on her ears, and she is obviously laughing. Kyle told us to look at the camera, so Maria is smiling, and I am too.

“What’s that?” Maria asks as she walks into the kitchen. I feel as though someone just threw a bowling ball at my chest. Damn. The black dress she’s wearing fits her perfectly, the tiny spaghetti straps accentuating her slender shoulders, and the straight line of the bodice gives her small breasts just enough accentuation. The fine, gold chain around her neck is barely visible, but somehow perfectly completes her look.

“Uh…” I scratch my eyebrow nonchalantly, “pictures.”

“Let me see,” she walks over and leans down on the counter next to me. She smells good—really, really, really good.

I should say something. Something, something, something, “So…You, ah, you look…ready.”

She turns her head to look at me, and the whole world hesitates. I’m seeing everything in slow motion. Her eyes blink slowly as her tantalizing lips open slightly. She speaks, but I don’t understand what she’s saying.

“Huh?”

“I said: you look ready too.”

“Yeah,” I nod.

“I messed up my hair when I was putting this stupid thing on,” Allie says, pointing at her dress as she walks into the room.

“We’ll fix it, then,” Maria says, standing up and pointing toward the stairs.

Allie makes a face, “Why do I have to dress up?”

I just shrug. That’s one I still haven’t figured out. She opens her mouth, and I know she’s going to whine, so I just point at the stairs like Maria did. Allie gives an exasperated huff and turns to run in the suggested direction.

Maria looks at me from the entrance to the hallway, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get her to do something without even speaking,” she shakes her head and smiles a little, “it’s freaky, like you’re telepathic or something.”

I roll my eyes and look back at the camera in front of me.

“ Mom, come on!” Allie’s voice floats down from upstairs.

Maria meets my gaze, and we share a look of astonishment. Mom? Allie’s never called her ‘Mom’, never referred to her as ‘Mom’, I didn’t know she’d ever even thought of Maria as ‘Mom’.

“ Oh my God,” Maria brings her hand to her mouth and I can tell she’s on the verge of tears.

“ Maria,” all I can manage is a whisper, and as she looks at me again I can see the smile in her eyes. I stand and walk toward her without a second thought. She lets me wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close, and suddenly I have a feeling that everything will be all right.

She pulls her hand away from her mouth and reaches up to my cheek, but withdraws her hand before she actually touches me. Her eyes dart from left to right, and she seems embarrassed, but I don’t know why.

“ Hel-lo!” Allie’s voice drifts down to us.

Maria gives me a hesitant smile and slips out of my arms, heading for the stairs. I watch her go, then turn back to the counter and grab the camera again. It’s nice to know that this happy picture of the three of us won’t be the last.

***

“Hey,” I greet Max as I let go of Allie’s hand.

“Hi,” he says with a smile as he watches Allie walk over to Jak and Isabel.

“Glad that’s over.”

He grins, but quickly bites it back, “Uh, me too. I haven’t been to one of these in years, but Isabel said I should bring Jak.”

I nod, I wouldn’t be standing in a Church foyer on Christmas Eve if it weren’t for Allie and Maria, “So, Jak doesn’t hate Liz. That’s like a Christmas miracle or something.”

Max nods, but doesn’t look overly happy, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I guess it means he wouldn’t hate having her around.”

“What do you mean?” Max jerks his head around to look at me.

“I mean, now that you two are…” I raise my eyebrows at him.

He stares at me, then shakes his head almost sadly, “We aren’t anything.”

“Well, she’s here, isn’t she? She came to you for Christmas.”

“Not to me,” he says slowly, letting his eyes drift in the direction of the door where Maria and Liz are locked in what looks to be an intense conversation.

“Do I need to draw you a diagram, Maxwell? The chick shows up on your doorstep for a family holiday and you don’t think she wants you?”

“No,” his eyes drop to the floor, then move back to Liz. It feels like we’re sixteen again with him watching her from across a crowded room like this, wearing his forlorn look. The problem is that we’re not sixteen, and now it’s just stupid.

“She wants in your pants, man, take her home and wish her a very Merry Christmas.”

He gives me a disgusted look, “Michael.”

“What?” I shrug as I walk away to collect my family.

 

 

 

PART 15

 

 

“Crap, I told you this stuff was never gonna fit.” I look up at Maria from the couch as I try to cram the last of the ‘stuffers’ into the big red stocking.

“It’ll fit,” she says, plopping down next to me. “Here, let me try.”

I hand it over to her willingly and give her an I-told-you-so look when she can’t get everything in.

She narrows her eyes at me and dumps everything out on the coffee table, presumably so that she can start again from scratch.

We’ve been putting the final touches on the living room for Christmas morning. It took nearly an hour to convince Allie to go to sleep, but I know she’ll probably be back up before the crack of dawn.

“O.k., so, I guess that’s everything…” I look around the room, hoping everything is set. I took a bite out of the cookies, drank half of the milk, and set out all of the ‘Santa’ presents—that should be everything. Allie doesn’t actually believe in Santa Claus. She hasn’t since she was five and accidentally watched a history channel special about him. I’ve never told Isabel, though, because she loves to do the whole Santa thing, and I don’t think I’ll tell Maria either. As for Allie, she doesn’t know that I know. I think she’s afraid that if I know she doesn’t believe anymore, I’ll stop giving her the presents.

“See, I got it,” Maria says, holding up the stocking, which is literally brimming over. Nothing is actually falling out, though, so I guess that’s good enough. I take it from her and hang it on the mantle, watching as it tips precariously for a moment, then settles.

“All right.” I take a deep breath. “I guess we can go get our five minutes of sleep before she wakes us up, wanting to open everything.”

Maria nods and stands up, then stretches her hands above her head as she yawns. I can see her bare midriff as her t-shirt raises above the waist of her jeans. All other thoughts are magically wiped from my mind as I ponder what I intend to do in a few moments.

I walk past her toward the hallway and can barely resist the urge to run my fingers across the exposed skin of her stomach.

With a hand wave, I switch off the living room lights, and all that’s left is the soft glow from the Christmas tree. My eyes devour her from the entrance to the hallway as she turns slowly in a circle, taking in the room with a satisfied smile. She notices that I’m watching her and meets my gaze so directly that it sends shivers down my spine.

I need to stay calm. This has to be perfect.

I know where I’m standing, and I know it’s corny, but I’m going to do it anyway. It’s all I can do to keep breathing as she drops her eyes and starts to walk in my direction. Just as she reaches me, I slip my arm around her waist, pulling her firmly to me. She doesn’t resist, but she looks up at me questioningly. I jerk my chin upward without taking my eyes from hers and whisper, “ Mistletoe .”

My breath catches as her tongue slips out to wet her lips and her head tips back almost imperceptibly. I slide my other hand up her back to cup her neck as I close my eyes and let my mouth descend on hers. This was supposed to be slow, but the instant we touch it becomes hot and needy.

Maria’s lips . They don’t feel like rose petals; they don’t taste like honey. They feel and taste like her lips , and that makes them the most perfect thing in the world.

Her hands slide up my chest and wrap tightly around my neck as she opens her mouth to me, deepening the kiss, tantalizing me with the velvety friction of her tongue sliding against mine. I let my arms grip her tightly and pull her body flush against mine. When her teeth find my bottom lip, I can’t hold back anymore, and we fall into a hungry desperation as we each try to claim one another.

And that is when the flashes begin.

//I see myself through Maria’s eyes. She gives me a seductive look and pulls me down into bed. It’s a school night, her mother is asleep down the hall, and I’m protesting with an irritated grimace on my face, but she silences me with a look as her hands find the top button of my jeans…//

I know she always thought Allie was conceived that night.

//At the Crashdown, she catches my heavy gaze as she glides past the order window. My eyes are glued to her, and it makes her heart beat a little faster.

She walks into the back room for her break and I grab her from behind, pulling her into the bathroom. My hand caresses the visible bulge on her abdomen as my lips latch onto her neck. Her head falls back onto my shoulder and she relaxes against me. She’s glad that I still want her.//

I may not have been thrilled about the baby, but I couldn’t keep my hands off her while she was pregnant; it was like a bizarre aphrodisiac. It nearly killed me when she had to go on strict bed rest and I couldn’t have her. Didn’t she know that?

More flashes of the two of us together fly at light speed from her consciousness into mine as we continue to kiss.

I’m dying ; this is everything I’ve ever wanted.

Then she starts to pull away.

I don’t want to let go and, as I reluctantly let her lips pull away from mine, I get one final flash. It sends my head snapping backward at a speed almost fast enough to snap it. My arms are still around her as she shakes her head gently.

“No, Michael,” she says.

It’s like a bad dream. One of those dreams where I want to move, and want to speak, but can’t. She looks up into my face, and I almost don’t believe what I just saw. My hand begins to inch its way down from where it’s buried in her hair, and my fingers slip below the collar of her t-shirt. At first, she doesn’t realize what I’m doing, but then her eyes widen as she looks up at me.

She can see it in my eyes. She knows that I know.

Suddenly, she’s trying to squirm out of my grasp, but I hold her fast and let out a strangled, “I want to see it.”

Her face crumples into the old fear. I’ve scared her, but I don’t care, because it makes her hold still long enough to let me pull the chain out from underneath her shirt.

And there it is. A ring rests against her chest, just above her heart. An engagement ring. My fingers find it and pull it up into the dull glow from the lousy twinkle lights on the tree. It’s gold, with one large oval shaped diamond and several smaller ones set in some sort of spray below it. The thing is hideous, and I let it drop from my fingers.

My arms fall away from her body and she stumbles backward. Instinctively, I look for the exit, and I just catch her grimace as she reaches out for me when I turn away. My keys are the only thing I grab on my way out the door.

***

I’m freezing, wearing nothing but a flannel shirt, as I bang on Max’s door.

“ Michael? ” His voice is groggy and full of sleep as he opens the door.

Suddenly, I feel dizzy from the ache that’s been in my head since I left her standing in the hallway. My hand reaches out to grasp the frame of the door as I try to clear the pain in my skull. Looking up at him, all I can manage to get out is, “Max?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabs my shoulder and leads me into the room to sit down in the tangle of blankets on his couch. He must have given Liz his bed.

I let my head fall into my hands as I lean forward, trying to get a grip on my thoughts. It’s too much.

“Michael?” His voice is much more awake now as he sits down in a chair across from me.

Looking up at him, I try to keep my voice steady. “You bastard. ”

He nods his head slowly. I think he knew why I was here the moment he opened the door; I don’t know why he’s pretending otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding almost as broken as I feel. “I’m so sorry.”

I let a scoffing breath escape as I put my head back in my hands and attempt to give him a sarcastic glare, trying to look anything but pathetic.

“What’s going on?” Liz asks as she walks in the room. I glance up at her, but immediately put my head back in my hands as the pain worsens.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Michael.”

Max sounds sorry, almost tearful. That doesn’t help me, though.

“I need to know.”

“I’m sorry. I am. She told me she’d tell you when the time was right; she just asked me to give her time—”

Liz breaks in to ask Max, “She just begged me to give her until after the holidays to tell him on her own, so why would she tell him in the middle of the night?”

I try to laugh, but can’t. I won’t let them see me break. I try sarcasm again. “Did you get tired of them laughing behind my back again, Liz?”

“No one else knows,” Max says slowly.

“ Liz knows,” I say, looking up and wishing that he would keep talking around it. I have to know, but I dread it. Why couldn’t it just be a dream? Or a mistake?

“She just saw them together in Roswell. She came here to tell you.”

“He’s supposed to be dead, Max.” I raise my eyebrows as I look up at him, knowing that I’m about to force it out of him. “ You said he was dead, five years ago. Remember? You were all broken up about it for like five minutes.” My voice is suddenly very thin, and I have to dig deep to keep it steady as I continue, “I thought Larek got him killed. I thought the Skins killed him.”

“Yes, I thought he was dead, just like we all thought she was. I didn’t know until I found them.” He sounds desperate, as though he doesn’t think I’ll believe him.

“But you still didn’t tell me. You sat in my living room and said, ‘Oh, yeah, Michael, I brought a couple of humans back with me.’” I don’t mean to sound monotone, and I don’t mean to sound hoarse. I want to be angry, and I want it to not destroy me. “You couldn’t mention that it was Maria and her boyfriend ?”

“Michael,” Liz says, her voice quiet and sorry. I just give her a look before turning back to Max.

“They asked me not to tell you— she —asked me not to tell you.”

“Why?”

He looks me dead in the eye. “I think you should ask Maria.”

I blink a few times and stare at him. “Just tell me.”

Max takes a deep breath. “When I arrived, the war was winding down. I’d gotten things started on my first visit, and by the time I came back, Khivar was basically running scared. It seemed like a good time to start the hunt for my son, so I asked Larek to put more resources into finding him. We finally discovered what region he was being kept in, and I went there immediately to be on hand for the search...”

“Get to the Maria stuff,” I say.

Nodding, Max continues, “Long story short, I was captured on a scouting mission. They took me to one of Khivar’s smaller bases, and it just happened to be where they were keeping Jak. Well, they knew who I was, but didn’t know if they wanted to kill me or use me as a bargaining chip, so I was kept in a sort of prison cell for a while. Brody just happened to be the slave who brought me my meal one day.”

“Keep going.”

“Anyway, I didn’t really get to talk to him, but a few days later, they…” he trails off, looking lost for a minute, and I snap my fingers in front of his face to bring him back. He gives me an annoyed look before going on, “Well, basically, they left me for dead in what could best be described as a garbage heap. I would have died there if Brody hadn’t rescued me. He managed to hide me among the human slaves somehow, until the base was eventually liberated.”

“So, why isn’t he dead?”

“I don’t know. They were keeping abductees at the time. Whatever group of Skins Larek ran into while he was trying to find a way for me to get back decided to keep Brody after they forced Larek out of his body.”

“So, it’s that simple.” This is my new reality; I guess I just have to face it.

“It isn’t simple. I know it isn’t simple, Michael. I know you’re hurt—”

At his observation, I raise my head sharply and tell my face to deny it. I stop him from continuing by asking, “Why didn’t you tell me, Maxwell?”

“I tried to warn you…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now he looks uncomfortable. “They didn’t want me to. It was hard for them to even adjust to the idea of going back to earth. I think Maria had given up all hope. She was…well, she is different. She didn’t think she deserved a second chance. And Brody—I owed him everything, Michael; I couldn’t just ignore that request. After what they’d been through, how could I dictate how they live their lives?”

I still don’t understand why she didn’t want me to know. Even if she was with someone else, she should have known I’d want to know that she was alive. And what about Allie? Did she really have no interest in meeting her own daughter? My skull isn’t pounding quite as much as it was a few minutes ago, so I sit back on the sofa and let my head rest loosely on the cushion behind me. Liz is sort of staring at Max, and Max is sort of staring at me.

“So, you and Liz are the only ones who know?” I ask, running my hand down my face, feeling an urge to leave.

Max clenches his jaw. “Yes. Amy, Kyle, and Jim don’t know. Brody didn’t even come back from the desert with us that first night. Maria just…” He shakes his head. “If Kyle hadn’t been the one to pick us up, I don’t think she would have even consented to see Amy. It was like she wanted to slip into oblivion and slink back to England with him.”

“So, that’s where he was? In England? This is her great love? He just left her here, alone?”

“He has a daughter, Michael; he had to go to her. I don’t know much about what’s happened, but I know that he hasn’t had an easy time stepping back into her life. Maria would know more…”

For some reason, Liz catches my eye. She knows something. “What do you know, Liz?”

She looks up at me carefully and then purses her lips. “I don’t know anything.”

This is worse than anything I’ve ever imagined. I need to get away from them. I stand and quickly run my hand through my hair. The room begins to spin and I have to sit down and cradle my head again. What am I supposed to do? Everything is falling apart around me.

“I have to go,” I say slowly.

“Michael, please don’t blame her for this,” Max says quickly. “Blame me.”

I look up at him. “It’s all my fault. I know that. But it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I don’t mean that it’s your fault,” Max says. He lays a hand on my arm, but I quickly shake it off.

Liz looks up at me with pitying eyes. Great.

“Later,” I say as I walk toward the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jak’s head peeking out of his doorway down the hall, and I give him a little wave. He’s got the pitying eyes, too. Something tells me that even Jak knew about Brody; this probably isn’t the first time he’s eavesdropped since Liz showed up. Great. Great.

“Michael, if I can help…”

I just shake my head as Max’s voice drifts out of the quickly closing door. It’s a little colder outside, but I don’t really feel it as I make my way down the apartment hallway toward the parking lot. My limbs feel as though they have lead weights tied to them, making my movements feel thick and slow.

At my vehicle, I look across the complex at Isabel’s building. Her light is on. For a second, I think about walking toward her window, but I change my mind and open the car door.

***

The house is still dark when I walk in the door, with only the Christmas tree lights on in the living room. That’s dangerous; how could Maria be so careless? I throw my keys on the counter and walk toward the tree.

“Michael?”

I’m startled as Maria’s head pops above the top of the sofa. I stop in my tracks and stare at her. She just sits there and stares back, looking almost frightened.

“What?”

Her lids fall, and she swallows. “I’m sorry.”

What am I supposed to say? ‘You lied, but you have a damned good excuse?’ ‘I want to hate you, but I love you too much?’ ‘Tell me how to get over you?’

“Nah, I’m sorry,” I say, meeting her gaze and wishing that I could open my eyes a little wider and pick my eyebrows up off the floor. “And can we just forget what happened earlier? It didn’t mean anything.”

She swallows again and looks up at me with wide eyes and a quivering lip. I think I know where that look is going. The last person I want the pity eyes from is Maria. Turning sharply, I start toward the hall.

“Michael.”

I can’t walk away from her when she calls me. Why can’t I walk away from her?

“Yeah?” I ask, my back still to her.

“Don’t you think we should…talk?”

Oh God. No, I don’t. ‘I don’t want to hear about the amazing Brody. I don’t want to know why you love him. I don’t want to hear that you want to move away. I don’t even want to think about the possibility of losing the only thing I have left in the world.’

“O.k.”

I walk back into the living room and sit down in a chair a few feet from her. She pulls her feet up onto the sofa cushion and hugs her knees to her chest, making herself look scared and alone. Her make-up looks smudged, and I know she’s been crying. That makes it all worse, somehow.

“I was afraid to come back here. I didn’t want anything like this to happen,” she says slowly, her voice sounding as though her throat is sore and her nose is stuffed.

I raise my head and move my hand to wave over the entrance to the hallway and the ceiling, effectively sound-proofing the space. “You could have lived with that? Never meeting Allie?”

She looks away from me, and I notice that her hands are trembling. “Allie didn’t exist for me, not really. Until Max…” She clears her throat and I can see that she’s fighting tears. “Until Max came, I didn’t even know there was an Allie. And, uh, I had tried to forget everything I ever knew about…my baby.”

"So, you could have lived with that? Knowing she was out there somewhere and that you wouldn’t even know her if she passed you on the street?”

This makes her hesitate, and she shakes her head. “I’ll never know now.”

“You did want to see her, though. You did see her.” I can’t believe that anyone who even resembles the Maria I knew could live without seeing her baby. Maria is good for Allie; I need to believe that above all else.

She takes a deep breath and looks up at me, and I realize that the Maria who has been here for the last few days is gone again. This woman, the one sitting in front of me, is the one that came back a few months ago. I don’t understand.

“When we got back…when I got back, Kyle and Max convinced me to see my mom. They all wanted to call you, but I told them I wasn’t ready, that I needed more time. I think Max is the only one who suspected that I never intended to see her…or you. But I think he thought that I’d give in.”

My head hurts a little bit again, so I lean forward to cradle it in my hands. She would have walked away; she would have walked away from Allie and never looked back. And me? Not even a blip on her radar. And why would I be? If it weren’t for me, none of this would have ever happened to her. I look up at her and see the sorrow in her eyes. I don’t believe it; I don’t believe she would have left and never looked back, no matter what. I need to hear it from her; I need her to deny that she could have run away.

“So, you would have run away to England and lived happily ever after?” I’m trying to sound mean, trying to cover my desperation.

I look up and see anger in her eyes for a moment, but it’s gone in a heartbeat. “Michael, there was no simple answer.”

“Seems to me like you had an answer completely simplified, Maria. Follow him, and don’t look back.”

This time, the anger isn’t in her eyes for only a moment; it smolders there, and her jaw tightens. “One of us had to give. He has a daughter; you of all people should understand what that means. He had to see her, had to spend time with her.”

“So, he had to be with his daughter, but you could walk away from yours?” I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I need to hear it. I need to believe that Allie would have come first. I’m baiting her, because the angrier she gets, the more she seems like herself.

She’s furious now. She doesn’t like the fact that I keep referring to her running away, but she’s hiding it. Even now, she won’t let me have it.

It must be guilt that I see on her face as she speaks again. “Allie didn’t need me. I knew it before I even saw her. She had you, and that was all she needed. As far as she knew, I was dead; I just wanted to leave it that way. I don’t have anything to offer her.”

“But you couldn’t do it, could you? You had to see her.”

“Yes, I had to see her,” she concedes sharply as a tear slips down her cheek, her voice desperate. “I had to see her, just once.”

“You didn’t see her just once ; you saw her lots of times.”

She swings her arms into the air in exasperation. “All right! I couldn’t do it; I had to see her. I left Roswell, I didn’t say anything to anyone, and I started following you around. O.k.? I had to see for myself that she was alive, and that she was all right—and she was! I was right. You and Allie were fine, just fine, better than fine. There wasn’t any room for me; you had Isabel—”

I’m relieved, but I didn’t mean to take her this far. “Wait. Isabel was just—”

“You don’t have to explain.” Suddenly, she looks contrite. “I’m just saying that Allie didn’t need me.”

“God, Maria, she needed you so much. I’m not—I’m not very good at the parenting thing.”

She exhales a dry laugh. “Not very good? She’s a perfectly normal, happy kid. You don’t have to be around her for more than five minutes to know that. And she loves you, she adores you, you’re, like, her hero.”

I shake my head. “She stopped smiling, though, and she wouldn’t cry. It was being around me too much; she was becoming like me. You just don’t know.”

“So she has sort of a dry sense of humor for a seven year old. It’s not a fault, and it doesn’t mean she isn’t happy. Not everyone wears their emotions for the world to see.”

“Your daughter should.”

Maria gives me a funny look and I get the impression that she’s about to cry again. “Did you expect her to be a miniature version of me?”

I shrug. Maybe I did.

“She’s not like me, Michael, and I’m glad that she isn’t.”

“She needs you, Maria.”

“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head as her chin quivers. “I mean, she resents my very existence.”

“No.” I deny it, but it’s true.

“Uh, yeah, you know it. She was perfectly happy with just you. How can you miss having a mother when you’ve never had one?”

“Well, I never had one, but I always knew what I was missing.”

“But she’s not you, either. She didn’t miss having a mother because you gave her everything that she needed. Don’t you see? The way that she’s reacted to me—it’s the same as if you’d married some random woman and dropped her into this house and said, ‘Allie, here’s your mother.’ I’m the step-mother, the outsider, the intruder . She was perfectly happy with the status quo.” She raises her eyebrows and whispers, “It was you who thought something was missing, not Allie.”

I’ve never thought of it that way. I don’t really know what I thought. My head doesn’t hurt anymore, so I sit back and take a deep breath. Allie needs Maria; I don’t care what anyone says.

“So, what now? You think she doesn’t need you, so you just take off for England and that’s that?” I want to be angry. I want to hurt her. I want to chip away at her happiness.

Her eyes flash again at the bitterness of my tone, and she takes a steadying breath to firmly tell me, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you’ve just been sitting here telling me that Allie doesn’t need you, never needed you, and that all you’ve wanted to do is leave the country to be with your…whatever he is,” I say with a sneer.

“I can’t leave now. I would never leave her.” She’s angry and looks as though she’s disgusted that I’d think she would leave.

“You just said—”

“I’m not going to abandon her, Michael,” she chokes out, sounding hurt and on the verge of tears as she says the word ‘abandon.’ “Now that she knows about me, I will never leave. I can’t do that to her; I won’t do it to her. Not to mention the fact that I love her and can’t imagine what my life would be like without her.”

Well, that sounds a little more like Maria. That’s what I needed to hear. I think it was worth breaking her to coax the words out of her mouth.

“Good,” I say softly. Whatever bravado I had is gone now. There’s nothing left to fight for. She’s not letting go of Allie; that’s all that’s really important.

She lets out a strangled little sob. “You must think I’m some sort of monster.”

I ignore her and try not to let her see that I’m slipping into despair. I keep my tone crisp as I ask, “What happens now?”

“He can’t leave England,” she says, looking uncomfortable, obviously trying to get a grip on her emotions.

“And you can’t leave L.A.”

Her eyes are on the floor as she nods hesitantly.

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “What am I missing, then? How, exactly, does your big romance work?”

“I don’t know, but it will work somehow.” She looks away from me, and her voice is tremulous as she struggles to deliver the coup de grace. “I love him.”

The words are like a physical blow. My chest seems to be collapsing. I don’t want to hear about how much she loves him. It hurts too much, and I don’t want to hurt. I want anger, I want rage. Anything but this, anything but helpless acceptance. I stare at her until I’m glaring, and with whatever strength I have left, I narrow my eyes.

She looks sorry for a moment, but then she steels herself, adopting a softer tone as she tries to explain. “You can blame me if you want, but do you honestly think we’d still be together if I hadn’t been taken? We were kids, Michael, just stupid kids who were in way over their heads.”

I’d tell her to shut up, but I’m having trouble breathing. All I can do is glare at her.

She regrets what she said; a sickened look passes over her features, and she tries to soften it. “We both moved on, Michael. Don’t look at me as if I betrayed you. Please . You don’t know what it was like…” Her hand slices the air, and she looks wild for a moment as she tries desperately to make me understand. “I thought you were dead. Not just Allie; you, too .”

Licking my dry lips, I manage to smile wryly. I know that I can’t blame her, but all I can do is try to hurt her back, rasping, “Not that it mattered, since we were just ‘stupid kids’ anyway.”

Her features show that my verbal blow found its mark, but she won’t let me bully her. She fights back a little over the obvious lump in her throat, asking, “How long were you with Isabel, anyway? Three years?” She swivels to look at me and almost scoffs at the guilty look on my face. “More like four or five? Or was it seven, Michael? Were you together right after I left?”

I don’t want to answer her, so I look at the floor. I refuse to believe that she sounded a little jealous just now.

“It doesn’t matter how long you were with her; I know it had to be longer than you were with me. But you just threw it away the minute you saw me.” She lets her voice trail off a little and pauses to swallow. Her eyes are open and focused on the floor, as if she’s reading to me from some text she can see lying there. “Maybe we would have had a shot, maybe not. We’ll never know .”

“Right.”

I stand and run a hand through my hair. It really doesn’t get much more clear than that. Sorry, Michael; thanks for playing.

“That’s it?” She looks up at me questioningly. “You don’t have anything to say?”

The tone of her voice is odd, and I don’t know if she really wants me to respond or not. I sigh and sit down again. “Isabel and I weren’t in a relationship. We were just having sex—screwing, fucking— whatever . Maybe I shouldn’t have let it happen, but I did. It helped to make life a little more bearable. That’s all it was.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

I look up at her. What does she mean? “Uh, it’s the truth.”

She looks down at the floor and sounds as defeated as I feel when she whispers, “I’m sorry, Michael.”

“Whatever. This is all my fault, anyway. It’s my alien shit that ruined your life. You can do whatever you want; I don’t have the right to say anything to you.”

“I don’t mean that it’s your fault,” she says as her voice breaks.

“Right.”

Her breath catches as she leans forward, pleading, “I still love you, Michael.”

I let a scoffing breath escape through my nose. “Don’t. Just don’t. I don’t need your @#%$ pity.”

Tears pool in her eyes again. “That’s not—”

“Yeah.”

I stand and start to leave the room, but she rises as well and her hand wraps around my arm. Turning quickly, I try to pull it off. Her eyes are steady on mine for a moment, then she closes them as tears slip down both of her cheeks. As my hand closes over hers, the flashes pound me.

//Feeling excited for the first time in nearly two years when she sees Brody—someone from home.//

//Brody holding her after she’s tried to kill herself, telling her to hold on, telling her that he needs her.//

//His hands soothing her fevered flesh and cleaning the wound on her cheek.//

//Maria falling into Brody’s arms as Max tells her about Allie.//

//Brody telling her that everything will be all right as he sends her away with Max in the desert.//

//She looks down at him as he falls to one knee in front of the Crashdown.//

Brody, Brody, Brody, Brody .

Forcefully, I pull her hand off of my arm and release it to fall at her side, ending the torment of her touch. I manage to pull my gaze back to meet hers, but it wavers.

Her eyes are sad as she looks at me. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

No, I think it was supposed to be like this. Exactly like this. I don’t deserve a happy ending; I don’t know what ever made me think I did. It was all in my imagination. She wasn’t starting to care for me; she just felt sorry for me. The miracle is that she’s alive, that she survived what they put her through. Her life has nothing to do with me; it’s about Allie. I’ve been forcing myself into the picture, and I realize now how wrong that was. I guess it’s just another offense to add to my Maria track record.

I have to swallow twice and look away from her before I can speak. “About everything…I…I really am sorry.”

“No—”

She starts to speak, but I turn away from her, taking a side step to pick up a small green box with a cream-colored ribbon from underneath the tree before walking into the hall. It’s hard to climb the stairs; my legs are too heavy, and I have to grip the railing to stay upright. Behind me, I hear her sit back down and start to cry, just as the pounding in my head resumes.

 

 

 

PART 16

 

 

“Dad?”

I open my eyes to see Allie standing in the doorway of the guest room.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you in here?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, come on, it’s almost six o’clock. I can hear Isabel downstairs.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she says as she walks over to the bed and looks down at me. I’m still dressed. She makes a face and gives me a questioning look.

I couldn’t very well go to my bedroom, chaste bed sharing just isn’t going to work anymore, not even for appearance’ sake, so I crashed in here. I think I just fell asleep a few minutes ago, actually.

“What?” I ask Allie as she looks down at me.

“Nothing.”  She shakes her head and gives me a funny look, then her eyebrows fly up. “Oh!  And I need help with her , when I went to wake you guys up she was crying. It must be because of Christmas.”

“Ok,” I say, blinking and trying to find the energy to move.

“ Dad ,” she whines, pulling on my arm when I don’t move. “ Presents. Come on, I’ve been up forever already.”

“Yeah, I’m up.”  I somehow struggle into a sitting position, and she keeps pulling on my arm ‘til I’m on my feet.

“Ok, good, now just go get her out of bed so that I can open.”

I shake my head. I’m not ready to see Maria.  “You go get her, and give me five minutes to get the camera ready.”

She pouts at me, but I give her a look. We always make her give us five minutes after she wakes us up, so she knows it’s not negotiable. Allie scampers toward my bedroom as I make my way downstairs, trying to shake the sleep out of my eyes. It’s still dark outside—we always have to do this at the crack of dawn, every year it’s the same.

Isabel is in the kitchen, but her back is to me when I enter. It looks like she’s eating something over the sink.

“Hey,” I say as I walk to where I left the camera on the counter the night before.

She looks up, slightly startled, as she pushes the last of a banana into her mouth. After a moment of chewing, she speaks around it, “Sorry, just finishing breakfast.”

I shrug.  “That’s fine.”

“I just let myself in,” she says hastily, grabbing a key off the counter and holding it up for me to see, “I’ve been meaning to return this, so here it is. There weren’t any lights on when I got here, so I didn’t think you’d mind if I just waited in here.”

I shake my head at her, feeling irritated, and say, “You know I don’t mind.”

Her face scrunches a little as she takes a moment to really look me over. I probably look like shit. Judging from the grimace on her face I do.

Giving me a small smile, she says, “Happy Birthday…”

The way she said it made it sound like a question. I can’t help the groan that escapes my lips, I’m not a big birthday fan.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to give her a smile. She never forgets. I think she’s the only person who even knows.

“Oh!” she says as she reaches for her purse and pulls out a small box.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her, and pulling the ribbon and top off of it quickly. When Isabel gives you a gift, she wants you to open it right away.

It’s a framed photo of Allie, from one of the times the three of us went to the beach last summer. She’s standing in front of the surf with her sunglasses on and a big smile on her face while the wind blows her wild hair all over the place. I look up at Iz.  “This is really nice.”

“It’s nothing,” she says, shaking her head, “I just thought it was a really good one of her.”

“It is.”

We stand in sort of an awkward silence, then I remember what I’m supposed to be doing. After stuffing the frame back into it’s box, I pick up the camera and turn it on, only to be greeted by the picture of my ‘family’. It’s no longer a source of joy. At the moment, it’s making me sick.

“What’s wrong?” Iz asks.

I look up at her.  “Nothing.”

“Well, that’s obviously a big lie.”

“Good morning.”

We both look up to see Maria walk in the room. If I look anything like she does, I must look like shit. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her face is splotchy. She looks pitiful, but bizarrely attractive.

I’ll never get over her.

“Hi, Maria,” Isabel puts on a smile.

“Can I come down yet?!” Allie’s voice calls from the stairs.

“Yeah!” I call out to her, taking the camera and walking toward the living room.

***

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Kyle scratches his head and hops to his feet, beginning to pace in front of me like a caged animal.  “I didn’t know about any of that.”

“I know.”

“She should have told you. I know she was in bad shape when she first got back, but—I dunno, she should have told you.”

I shrug, and he gives me a sympathetic look.

“So, what now? Are you here to tell me that you want Isabel back?”

“ What ?” I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Isabel. Do you want her back now?”

“No.”

“Then, why are you telling me all of this?”

“You asked! I’m just here to drop off the stupid leftovers like Maria wanted me to.”

He gives me a funny look and shakes his head. She didn’t like it that he was alone today, and asked me to take him some food from our Christmas dinner. It made sense, Allie was the only one eating at our house.

“I didn’t ask, I just said that Isabel thought there was something wrong with you.”

I think he has memory problems.  “You told me that I’d upset Isabel and that I’d better tell you, and I quote , ‘what the fuck is going on’!”

“Oh yeah.”  He stops pacing and sits down across from me. “Why didn’t you just tell her when you saw her today?”

“There wasn’t exactly time. I figured Max and Liz would fill her in.”

“So that’s why they were acting funny this morning.”

“Huh?”

“Max and Liz, I thought maybe they had another fight or something.”

“I didn’t know you went over there this morning. Maria thought you were alone all day.”

“Well, I just went to watch Jak open his presents before I came home.”

“Before you came home? What—? Oh.”

He gives me a challenging look, but I just shrug.

“With Brody alive, Liz will probably forgive Max.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kyle makes a ‘well duh’ face at me.  “She can’t be pissed about Max getting him killed if he isn’t dead.”

“When was she pissed?”

He looks at me as though I’m insane.  “Uh, she was pissed when she thought he got killed trying to find Max a way back to Mars, Michael. And, she’s been pissed ever since if ya’ haven’t noticed.”

Max never told me that. They just drifted apart, that’s what he always said.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, why do you think she blasted him so hard when she kept giving him another chance and he’d always do something stupid trying to get back to the home planet again?”

“I dunno, I just thought she got tired of his big quest like the rest of us did.”

Kyle gives me a disgusted look.  “Aren’t you supposed to be the guy’s best friend? Weren’t you doing his sister? I can’t believe you didn’t know this.”

“Shut up, Kyle,” I say. I can’t believe I didn’t know this.

He just shakes his head, sits back in his chair, and says, “I’m bored, why don’t you lay your big plan on me.”

“Big plan?”

“Yeah, the one to get Maria back. What’re you gonna’ do?”

“I’m not—there’s no plan. I’m not doing anything,” I let out a sigh and lay back onto his sofa. I’m so tired, but I don’t know if I could sleep.

“You’re not going after Isabel, are you?”

“God! No, Kyle, I’m not going after Isabel.”

“Uh, what are you gonna’ do then, grow old and die? Miserable and alone?”

I bring my hand up to cover my eyes and let my breath hiss out through my teeth.  “Yeah, I guess that’s my plan.”

“You still have Allie, man.”

I let my hand drop and open my eyes. That is true. She was all I had before, and she’s all I have again. If it hadn’t been for me getting my stupid hopes up, I wouldn’t be any worse off than I was a few months ago. “Yeah, you’re right, I do.”

“That’s more than I’ve got,” he says dryly.

My eyes wander over to him, “It sounds to me like you have Isabel.”

He lets out a harsh sounding laugh, “No, man, you still have Isabel.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You know, all of this time,” he says, as he sits forward and starts smacking his left fist into his right hand over and over, “I thought you were just being a jackass, but now that I know how truly dense you are, I’m willing to believe that you really don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“She’s in love with you.”

I shake my head.  “No, she isn’t. You don’t understand.”

“No, I think that you don’t understand. Do you have any idea what she’s gone through since Maria came back?”

All I can do is stare at him.

He rolls his eyes, “How stupid am I? Obviously, you don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?”  I sit forward and give him a warning look. This can’t possibly be true. She’s still in love with Alex. And she hasn’t just been sleeping with me, she’s with a different guy about every other day. Not to mention the fact that she’s also been sleeping with Kyle .

“I’m talking about the fact that she’s in love with you. You’ve just completely cut her out of your life. How do you think that makes her feel?”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not like I’m the only guy she’s been with all of this time. There have been plenty of others, including you .”

He nods. “Yeah, that’s true, but I don’t think she realized it until she lost you.”

“She didn’t lose me, I’m still here for her—as much as I ever was. You’re mental.”

“Ok, whatever you say,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m going home,” I bark at him as I stand.

“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

“Bite me, Valenti,” I say as I slam his door behind me.

***

The house is eerily quiet when I walk in. Maria is sitting on the sofa, and her head whips toward me like she’s a frightened animal as I walk in the door.

I nod at her, and walk into the living room. Allie is asleep on the area rug in the middle of the living room. Her little music player is sitting on her stomach, and the earphones are still on her head.

“She just sort of…collapsed,” Maria says softly.

I nod and lean down to pick her up. This is typical on Christmas Day. She doesn’t get enough sleep the night before and always crashes at the beginning of the evening. This is why I make her get into her pajamas before dinner. Her little body goes completely limp in my arms, and I know she’s in a deep sleep. I carry her slowly out of the room, and it’s not until I’m at the top of the stairs that I realize Maria is following me. She moves ahead of me in the bedroom to pull back the covers, and pulls off Allie’s bunny slippers after I lay her down.

Putting her to bed is so much easier with Maria here. I watch her as she tucks the sheets under Allie’s chin and smoothes the little girl’s wild hair away from her face. She seems to feel my eyes on her, because she turns to me with a forlorn look. Allie makes a noise and snuggles into her pillow, and I turn to leave before we wake her. Maria is right on my heels, and she closes the door softly behind us.

I hesitate in the hallway, because I’d like to go to sleep, but I don’t want to go into my room to get my clothes. That room is her domain now.

“Michael?”

My eyes close at the sound of her voice, and I have to force myself to turn around and face her.  “Yeah?”

In this dim light, she looks hauntingly beautiful.  I’d give anything to be able to touch her. She looks weary, and I know she must be as tired as I am. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, the first time it’s been so since she came back. My blood begins to pound, and somehow my arousal bests my fatigue. I want her, but I can’t have her, and it’s the worst feeling in the world. Right here, in front of me, is the only woman I’ll ever want…but she will never be mine.

Whatever she was going to say to me is interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing. Her eyes dart quickly from right to left, and the guilty look on her face tells me who is most likely on the other end of the line. I step aside so that she can move past me. For a moment she hesitates, and looks at me regretfully, then she makes her way down the hallway toward the phone. I know it’s him.

***

New Year's Eve.  Isabel's apartment.  This is the last place I want to be right now, so I'm hiding on the balcony.  I'm seriously contemplating a climb down the fire escape ladder to my right.  They probably wouldn't miss me.

“Hey.”  Isabel’s voice is soft and low as she steps through the slider door.

Of its own volition, my neck turns my head to look at her. There’s no expression on her face, so I’m given no hint as to why she’s seeking me out. I force myself to turn back to look out off her balcony.

She closes the slider door with a woosh and then takes three steps to my side. I don’t know what to do, or to say. Tonight has been difficult enough, trying to avoid everyone’s ‘poor Michael’ looks.  Now I’m in for an Isabel encounter. Things are different between us now, I know that, but I don’t understand why. It’s not exactly fair to her, but she’s the last thing I want to deal with right now.

“I’m glad that you came,” she states simply, without inflection, as though she’s speaking to an acquaintance—as though she’s surprised I’m here.

I let my hand slide up my face to my eyebrow, and try not to snap at her.  “Why wouldn’t I come? Do you think I’m avoiding your place just because you’re avoiding mine?”

Maybe I kept my tone in check, but she knows I’m irritated. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her nodding. She takes a deep breath, and speaks in her most condescending voice.  “I’ll leave you to your party of solitude, then.”

She starts to walk away, and I feel instant remorse, whirling to call out to her.  “ Iz …”

Her hand is on the handle of the slider, but she stops, pausing for a second or two, before turning back to face me, “I’m sorry that this is happening to you, Michael.”

I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her. The pity mixed with the awkwardness is almost too much. It’s not fair. I need her. She’s my best friend in the entire world, but she’s hardly been around lately. If there’s one person I could talk to right now, it would be Isabel, but I know that it’s impossible. So, I lie.  “It’s no big deal.”

Humor infuses her features for a moment, and I’m almost angry again when she says, “You want me to believe that you’re going to let go?”

My eyes fall away from hers, and I turn to look back out over the balcony.  “There isn’t anything to hold onto.”

That isn’t exactly true. I’m still holding onto Maria and, even though she won’t be mine, I’ll be hanging on until the day I die.

“Do you want hope?” Isabel asks softly.

I shake my head slowly, “I don’t need it.”

***

I’m sitting alone on the sofa when the call comes in. It’s a little after eleven.  I couldn't hide on the balcony all night.

“Kyle, it’s for you,” Isabel calls from the kitchen after the ringing stops.

I see Kyle emerge from the den just down the hall. Isabel has twister set up in there, and he’s been playing with Maria and the kids.

Not long after he enters the kitchen I hear him give a loud cheering sound. I stand and walk toward the noise. Isabel is standing next to Kyle with a puzzled look on her face. He’s talking excitedly, asking the person on the line where, how, and when. Max and Liz join me in the entryway, and we all watch, puzzled.

A few seconds later, Kyle looks around at all of us with a grin and says, “Someone go get Maria, her mom wants to talk to her.”

Liz walks toward the hallway, to get Maria. Isabel puts her hand on Kyle’s arm, giving him a questioning look while he continues to jabber into the phone.

Maria enters and immediately holds her hand out for the phone. Her features become amazingly more animated by the second after she says hello and her voice slowly escalates to a squeal, “What? He did? That’s incredible! Congratulations, Mom!”

Kyle picks that moment to inform us, glancing around with a grin.  “They got engaged.”

Max laughs, “Oh, ok.”

Still smiling from ear to ear, Maria’s eyes suddenly meet mine, and I hear her say, “Yes, he’s here, hold on.”

Her joy seems to falter a bit as she holds the phone out toward me. I take it, and put it to my ear. Amy’s voice immediately assaults me.  “Oh! Michael! Did you hear? I’m engaged! To Jim, of course. Can you believe it?”

“I just heard. Congratulations, that’s great,” I say.

“Michael, sweetheart,” Amy’s voice falters, “is everything all right? Is Allie ok, is there—?”

Now I feel like a total creep, so I cut her off, “What? No, I’m just in shock. It’s about time, though.”

Her laughter fills my ear, and I hear her repeat my words to Jim, who retorts with something I can’t make out.  “Jim says he heard that,” she giggles. “Is Kyle still right there? Jim wouldn’t let me talk to him. May I?”

I take the phone away from my ear and hand it to Kyle. He gives me a sympathetic look as he begins speaking, and I decide I should head back to the sofa before I get another one from someone else.

Amazingly, Liz follows, sitting down right next to me.

“This is really great news,” she says.

“Yeah.”  I nod.

“So, how are you…?”

I glance at her, and take a deep breath.  “I’m fine. How are you?”

“No, I meant…well…how are you doing?”

Jaw clenched, I turn to her, and forcefully repeat myself, “Fine.”

She ignores my attitude.  “I know it must be difficult...”

It would be a lot less difficult if everyone would stop making such a big deal of it. “I’m fine .”

Her eyes fall to her hands, and her body tenses. I’ve always been able to make her feel uncomfortable.  It comes easily. This time I feel bad about it, though, because she’s been a better friend to me than I’ve ever been to her. I don’t know if I ever even considered her a friend before she told me about Maria.

“I guess I should thank you,” I say slowly, “for at least trying to tell me.”

She looks up at me and shakes her head.  “It was nothing.”

“No, it was a lot. It was everything. No one else did.”

Her eyes hold mine.  “Do you wish that I’d never told you where to find her? I feel guilty now…”

That is probably the last thing I expected her to say, and the last thing I want is for her to regret doing me the biggest favor anyone ever has. “No. No way. Allie needs her. No matter what, Allie needs her. It’s for the best. And, I would have wanted to know she was alive, no matter what her...situation .”

The surprising thing is that I mean every word I’ve just said. It seems to take us both a moment to digest my little epiphany.

“If you say so,” she says gently, giving me a small smile. “Michael, just don’t…well, don’t let this push you to the outside. Outside is a lonely place to be.”

Liz speaks like one who knows, and as I look down at her, I wonder if she’s sick of being on the outside. Maybe it’s why she tried to help me, maybe she didn’t like seeing someone else excluded. It is bizarre that I’m sitting here having a heart to heart with Liz, but somehow it also makes a lot of sense.

I nod in response to her words. The funny thing is that I’ve been thinking a lot about what Kyle told me the other day, and I think that maybe I haven’t been the friend to Max that I should have been—not that I feel like he’s been that great to me—but, it’s time for one of us to make an effort.

“You know that no one wants you on the outside, right?” I ask her, not letting her break my gaze.

She finally turns away, shaking her head slowly, “Michael…”

“Liz.”  I speak firmly, and she glances at me, so I decide to push her a little harder.  “Nothing has changed with Max.”

Her eyes dart across the room to rest on Max, who is at the dining room table talking to Isabel. I don’t know what her situation is. For all I know, she’s got a Brody of her own back east. Somehow I doubt it, though, the one thing I’ve always known about Liz is that she’s a little like me.

When Maria walks out of the kitchen my eyes are drawn to her. She stops to say something to Max and Isabel, then walks toward Liz and me.

“Kyle is calling relatives,” Maria says with a smile, “will one of you come and finish the Twister game with us?”

It’s strange to hear her speak now. Just a few short days ago, the formality and restraint were almost gone, but now she’s just a slightly more outgoing version of the woman I found in the hotel room. Her eyes rest on me, and I see a plea there for a moment, but her gaze is broken when Liz speaks.

“I will, Maria.”

Maria seems surprised, and gives her friend a small smile. I know they’ve got issues to work out as well, so this is probably a good thing. As the two of them walk down the hall away from me, Liz puts her hand on Maria’s arm and says something that brings a smile to both of their faces. That’s good, Liz and Maria being friends again is oddly comforting.

***

Allie sits up, suddenly wide awake as I pull to a stop in the driveway.  “Wha—?”

“We’re home,” Maria says, turning around to give her a reassuring smile.

“Ok,” Allie says, rubbing her eyes.

It’s nearly two in the morning, but she’s been fighting sleep. I think Kyle slipped Allie and Jak a bunch of soda tonight. Caffeine affects us strongly.

The three of us make our way inside, and Allie stumbles toward the stairs, muttering something about going to bed. I walk toward my studio, we left in a hurry earlier, and I have some things to put away. Maria is just opening the fridge as I walk past, and we don’t make eye contact or speak, continuing the behavior that’s become a pattern to us over the past week.

I’m in the process of cleaning up the mess I left when I come across the framed picture that Isabel gave me. It’s sitting on one of the window sills, but that’s not where I left it. I’ve been keeping it on the desk in the guest room.

As soon as I’m finished in the studio, I walk out, carrying the photo. Maria is sitting on the sofa with a with a glass of milk, and I’m almost afraid to speak to her. She glances up at me, and I realize what a moron I must look like just standing here, staring at her, so I manage to stutter, “Uh, did you move my picture?”

She furrows her brow thoughtfully, staring at the photo as I hold it up. Her expression is almost adorable, and I get sort of lost just watching her. This is such a Maria look.

“I haven’t seen that before,” she says, glancing up at me.

“Oh,” I reply, turning away so that I can’t stare at her anymore. I stride quickly to the stairs, and almost run up them, hoping to distract myself from thoughts of her. As if that’s possible, she’s practically all I think about.

Allie’s light is still on, but when I walk in she’s sprawled out face down on her bed, sound asleep in her pajamas.

I walk over and shake her shoulder.  “You didn’t quite make it into bed.”

She opens one eye and squints up at me, “You reading to me?”

“No,” I say, pulling down her covers, and helping her get under them.

“Why, dad?”  She sounds sleepy, almost incoherent. “ Read .”

“Shh. Go to sleep,” I whisper as I pull the covers up under her chin.

“ Dad .”

“Sleep.”

She’s still protesting as I pick the photo up from the foot of her bed and walk toward the door. As soon as I flip off the light switch I hear her breathing deepen, and know she’s already out again. I can ask her about the photo in the morning. More than likely she found it and packed it around with her until she didn’t want it anymore. She does that.

I pull her door closed, and walk down the hall toward my bedroom. It’s the game I’ve been playing all week, trying to sneak my clothes out every night before Maria goes to bed. Pushing the door open, I stop suddenly as I barely make out her profile in one of the chairs by the window. She’s sitting here in the dark, and I almost start to apologize when I hear her speak softly.

“I just can’t do that right now.”

She’s not talking to me, and she’s not talking to herself, so she must be on the phone. Masochist that I am, I’m unable to move away from the doorway.

The hallway is as dark as the room, and I can only see her by the faint light that filters in through the window. Her hand comes to her temple, massaging gently as she silently listens to whatever he has to say.

“No,” her voice almost startles me, “I won’t do that. You don’t understand. This is the wrong time. I won’t do it.”

Silence again.

“It’s not that,” her tone is melancholy, “I do miss you, but…I can’t. I won’t. It’s too soon, I can’t do that to him.”

She sighs audibly as her hand moves to her throat, and I know she’s fingering the chain that’s hidden there as he talks. Whatever he’s saying is about me, and it’s agitating her. I wish I knew what it was.

“This is not like your situation, though. Not at all. I’ll speak to him about it, but I’m not promising anything.”  She sounds resigned.

Her fingers move from her chain to tuck her hair behind her ear. Now she’s nervous. Whatever he says brings another long sigh out of her lips.

“Yes, I will,” she says softly, then she takes a deep breath, and changes her tone to a lighter note, “my mother was proposed to tonight. She was so happy—.”

Silence for a moment.

“Oh,” she sounds disappointed, “all right, I’ll talk to you later.”

Silence.

“I love you, too,” she says gently, then pulls the phone in front of her face and switches it off.

I have to fight the bile that rises in my throat. How can she say that to him so easily? It doesn’t seem fair.

“What do you need to tell me?”  I’m almost surprised by the sound of my own voice.

She jumps and whirls to look at me. I can’t make out her expression very well, but I know that she’s unhappy.  “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

Making an exasperated sound, she stands and walks to the nightstand on the side of the bed closet to her, switching on the lamp that sits on it with an angry snap of her wrist. We stare at each other in silence, and I watch resentment play on her features. She’s being good, she has a right to be angry, I was eavesdropping, but she doesn’t want to say anything to me. It’s the pity, I know, that has her handling me with kid gloves.

“Michael, I really don’t think this is the time to talk about it—.”

“Tell me,” I say sharply, cutting her off. The edge in my voice makes her angrier, but she doesn’t lash out. I narrow my eyes when she doesn’t respond, and she crosses her arms, staring daggers at me. It takes my breath away, she looks more like herself than she has in days. I wish she’d scream at me, throw her hands in the air exasperatedly and rant like she always used to. It doesn’t happen, though.

After a few moments of silent stand-off she says, “He wants to come for a visit.”

I knew something like this was coming. I take a deep breath, and stop my face from showing a reaction, “When?”

“February. But, I told him it wasn’t—.”

“Fine.”

“What?”  Her eyes are wide and uncertain.

“Fine. Whatever. Let him visit.”

Better to just get it over with, right? You don’t pull a band-aid off slowly. Maybe, if I see them together, I will get over her. Maybe then, when it’s abundantly clear that she’ll never want me, I’ll be able to forget.

It’s doubtful, but maybe.

She shakes her head, and looks almost frightened.  “But, what about Allie?”

I feel something close to panic, and hold my hand up in a halting gesture, “I—we—we can’t tell Allie. More time; that needs more time.”

Nodding her head, she sits down on the edge of the bed, and agrees with me, “A lot more time. She wouldn’t need to know. Not now, not yet.”

I nod back at her, “Not yet.”

“I only want what’s best for her,” Maria says softly, letting her fingers play on the comforter, “I don’t want to rush anything. We have all of the time in the world.”

Staring at her, all I can do is continue to nod in response, but I know that it can’t be put off forever. Someday Allie will have to be told, and I know that when that day comes it will be the beginning of the end. I wonder just how long Maria is willing to postpone it.

I watch her expression as her fingers play with a lose thread on the material beneath her hands. She looks sad, or sorry, or something. The worst part of all of this is that I’m responsible for her unhappiness, again . I created this situation, I thrust her into Allie’s life, I took away all of her options. It was for the best, I believe that, but it doesn’t take away the guilt I feel when I see the look on her face. This is my final penance, I suppose, for the mess I’ve made of her life: feeling guilty that she can’t be happy, even if her happiness would mean she was with someone else.

Turning away from her, I go to my dresser and pull out some sweats to sleep in. Actually, the guilt isn’t going to be my last burden. Something else is coming, I can feel it, even though I can barely let the thought form in my head. I’m going to have to share Allie. There’s a time coming when things like shared custody and split holidays are going to come into the picture, but I don’t want to think about that. Not yet.

Running a hand through my hair, I look back at her, and can’t help the stream of ‘if only’ thoughts that fly through my head. If only I’d been able to protect her. If only I’d been able to get her out of that cell. If only I’d known she was alive. If only she’d known I was alive.

Well, that last one may not have made a difference. To her, apparently, we were just ‘stupid kids’. Maybe it would be better to say: if only there were no Brody. Or maybe not, who knows.

Brody.

A thought occurs, and I have to suck in a deep breath. I have to narrow my eyes as I try to work things out in my head, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion.

She seems to notice that I’m concentrating, because she sounds worried when she asks me, “What?”

I look at her, and shake my head, to clear it, “Nothing. Just, uh, thinking.”

Her eyes are still questioning, but she accepts my answer with a nod. I turn around and walk out of the room without another word, trying to turn off my stupid brain.

I’m not going to wonder if he knew, because it won’t change anything.

 

 

 

PART 17

 

 

“Wait!” Maria cries out as Allie is halfway out the door of car, “Don’t forget your jacket.  It's February.”

With a huff, Allie climbs back into the vehicle and grabs the red wind breaker from her mother.

“Love you,” I say, raising my eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes.  “Love you too.”

Maria and I watch as she exits the car and takes the few steps to the door of the school.

“Those jeans are almost too short,” Maria says off-handedly as we watch her disappear inside the building.

“They are?”

“Yeah, she’s growing again.”

“She’s always growing.”

“Well, she’s really growing.”

“We’ll get her new ones.”

“Ok.”

“Ok,” I mimic her, glancing away from the road to look at her. She’s nervous.

“I guess we have some time to kill,” she says.

“Want to get some coffee or something?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah,” she says softly, turning to look at me with a grateful expression.

I just nod and head for the nearest Starbucks.

***

Her hand is shaking as she presses the button for the elevator in the parking garage. I want to tell her to relax, but I don’t. The fact that she’s nervous is actually helping to keep me calm, although I have no idea why.

We step into the elevator, and she pushes the button for our floor, then turns to look at me, swallowing several times before she speaks, “Do I…How do I look?”

My eyes travel slowly from the top of her head to her feet and back up to her head again. The hair is worn down as usual, but more teased on the ends, and more carefully arranged over the right side of her face than she usually does it these days. Rather than her usual make-up, her eyes are smokier, and her lips a little redder. She’s wearing a black leather blazer that’s cut just right to make her figure look more curvaceous than it is. Her shirt is some strange paisley done in twelve shades of red with an oddly draped neck, it’s one of those things that probably no other woman could—or would wear—but that seems to have ‘Maria’ written all over it. The skirt is black, knee length, and has a slit on the left side that shows plenty of her near perfect leg. Overall, it’s a more conservative representation of the old Maria.

How does she look? She looks fucking fuckable, that’s how she looks.

But I can’t say that.

“Fine,” I say, turning away from her to watch the floor numbers tick off on the button panel.

“Ok,” she says, straightening her jacket and taking a deep breath. “And, you’re…ok with everything…?”

“I’m not going to make a scene, Maria.”

“I didn’t mean—.”

“I know what you meant.”

She turns to me sharply, her eyes flashing.  “No, you don’t, because that’s not what I meant.”

The elevator doors open, and we walk across the skyway toward the terminal. Their plane is disembarking just as we arrive, and Maria moves off to the side to watch for them. I jam my hands in the pockets of my jeans and prepare myself to face the inevitable.

I know him when I see him. He’s still as scrawny as ever, but his hair is shorter and even from here I can tell it’s a little grey. How old is he, anyway? There’s a teenaged girl with him. She’s sort of non-descript: long brown hair, muted clothing, no smile.

Maria tenses at my side, and waits for them to get a little closer before quickly stepping toward them, sliding her arms easily around his neck.

It’s all real now, and I can’t turn away.

He closes his eyes and buries his nose in her hair then his hand comes up to cradle her head, carefully, as though she’s the most precious thing in the world to him. After a few moments, they break apart to look at one another. They inspect one another’s faces, each with something approaching a look of awe. Slowly, his hands slide up to her jaw, pushing her hair back so that he can cup her face in his hands. She smiles, and quickly brushes her hair back into place, then leans forward to give him a kiss.

I shouldn’t have come.

She wanted me to see him, to speak with him before he met Allie, and I thought it would be better to get it over with. I was wrong. So, so wrong. My body feels as though it’s overheating, and the air is suddenly too thick to breathe. I’m going to stand here and suffocate, and the last thing I’ll ever see is him, standing there, with his hands on Maria.

He keeps an arm around her waist as he turns to Sydney and asks if she remembers Maria. The girl regards them both with a guarded look, then nods. Next he turns my way, and smiles, extending his hand.

“Michael. It has been a long time.”

My hand meets his, and I shake.  “Yeah.”

Maria is watching me closely, biting her lip as I greet him. She seems worried.

“And, this is my daughter, Sydney,” he introduces me to the girl who seems curious as to my identity.

“Hey,” I say, feeling stupid and inadequate, and hoping to hide it with a vague look.

“We should go get your bags,” Maria says with a smile.

Brody almost kisses her, but apparently thinks better of it, instead grabbing her hand and letting her lead him away. Sydney follows after them, almost hesitantly.

I let them walk ahead of me, there’s no reason to be close enough to hear their conversation. They move easily together, meeting each other’s eyes with dreamy smiles, nodding, almost in unison, about whatever it is they’re discussing. He grabs Sydney by the shoulder, and pulls her to his other side, squeezing her, and asking her a question that makes her glance at Maria then shake her head. Maria brings a hand up to nervously arrange her hair, and does her best to keep up a smile.

My feet feel heavy as I follow about twenty feet behind them. This is her new family. Well, I suppose Allie is supposed to fit into it somewhere too.

I can’t take this.

Just as I’m about to turn and run away, Brody turns around, smile still on his face, and jerks his head for me to catch up to them. He rolls his eyes a little as if there’s some joke he and I are sharing. I don’t see a joke. All I see is my life walking away from me.

We reach the baggage claim, and Brody steps forward to catch the bags. Maria is telling her about sights she should see, and the girl simply listens politely. Turning back to look at me, Maria has a pleading look in her eyes, and I step forward at her bidding.

“Michael, Sydney’s favorite band is in town, you could get tickets for their concert, couldn’t you?”

What do I look like, their concierge?

“Uh, maybe.”  I nod, and try to act friendly.

The girl looks at us uncertainly, then gestures at Brody, “Thank you, but I should probably help my father spot my case.”

She walks away without another word, and Maria looks a little crestfallen.

I don’t want to see her upset, so I try to talk, but only say, “Ah, that’s a lot of luggage they have.”

Maria glances at me curiously, then looks at the pile of bags Brody is accumulating, “Oh. Well, Brody is staying for a couple of weeks.”

Yeah, don’t remind me. “Oh, yeah…”

She turns back to me, “Maybe I should take the keys and go get your car. That way you can help him carry everything.”

“Ok,” I say. I don’t know why she would want to leave suddenly. As I dig into my pocket, I see her chin tremble slightly as she watches Brody. He’s staring back at her with this contented look on his face. Retrieving the keys, I hold them out to her.

Her eyes are wide as she turns back to me and reaches out to take them, “Thanks.”

When her fingers touch mine I get a flash.

//Brody watching her with the same smile from across a courtyard as she walks out of the Antarian sun and into her quarters.//

I don’t think she’s aware of what I just saw, because she simply grasps the keys and walks away, leaving me to approach Brody with an offer to help.

***

“Hey, Dad.”

I look up to see Allie walking toward me. She’s wearing a khaki skirt, and a black button down shirt. I look down at my own attire. We match; except I'm wearing pants.  Did Maria plan that?

“Why do we have to get all dressed up again?” she asks, throwing herself backward onto the couch next to me. Any time she has to wear anything resembling a dress she’s ‘dressed up’.

“You know, we’re meeting a friend of your mom’s.”

“I have enough friends,” she says wearily, running her hands down her face.

“Well, just be nice about it. It’s a big deal to her.”

She raises her eyebrows with a ‘duh’ look.  “I let her dress me up, Dad.”

I lean back on the cushion and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I let her dress me up too.”

“Well, ’least you get to wear pants,” she mutters.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, why’d Jak stay with Max today?”

“We were busy, we couldn’t take him.”

“Oh,” she nods slowly.

“Allie?” Maria calls as she walks down the stairs and starts across the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“We need to do your hair,” Maria says, leaning to one side as she fastens an earring. “Run up and brush it out for me, I’ll be up in two minutes.”

Allie protests, “Why isn’t my hair good enough? It was fine for school.”

“Go,” I say, pointing at the stairs. She makes a face at me, but complies.

Maria walks into the den and I can hear her opening drawers on the desk, slamming each one shut a little harder than the last.

“Michael?”

“What?”

“Safety pins,” she calls, “where are they? I thought they were in this desk, now they’re not here.”

“Medicine cabinet. In the bathroom.”

She pokes her head out of the den, “Where?”

I run my hand through my hair and stand, taking off toward the stairs. She comes out into the hallway and follows closely on my heels as I walk into the bedroom, then into the bathroom.

“Here,” I say, pulling the clear plastic box out from behind the mouthwash.

“Ok,” she says quickly, walking into the bedroom and sitting down on the bed to start some sort of surgery on the brown dress that’s laid out on it.

“What do you need done?” I ask as I walk up to her.

She stares up at me in surprise, then smiles a little, “Oh. I never thought of that. I need the side seams pulled in at my waist.”

“Put it on,” I say, “it’ll be easier that way.”

Smiling, she picks it up from the bed and heads for the bathroom, “Oh. And, don’t forget a belt.”

A belt? Does that mean I have to tuck my shirt in?

“What?”

She pokes her head out of the bathroom, “The black leather one, not the thick one, and not the thin one, the normal one. With the silver buckle. Oh! Not the big buckle, the regular buckle. That one. It’s hanging in the closet.”

I shake my head at her bubbly tone and open the Gap side of the closet to hunt for it. There are two that seem to match that description, so I take them both the bathroom door and knock.  “Which one?”

Looking out again, she giggles and wrinkles her nose, pointing at the one in my left hand, “I told you, the normal one.”

“Right.”

She walks out of the bathroom just as I’ve finished fastening the belt. She looks amazing. The color of the dress is weird, but it matches something about her skin, or eyes, or hair—just something that makes it look like it was made for her. “Here,” she says as she holds her arms out and runs her fingers along the side seams, “can you just make it fit?”

I nod, and take a step toward her, letting my finger tips rest lightly on each of her hips, I run my hands slowly up the seams, tightening the fit of the dress. She catches her breath as I do it, and I’m afraid that I’ve hurt her, but her face doesn’t look like it. My fingers run all the way up to where the underside of the sleeves begin, then I pull them away.

She takes a deep breath, and runs her hands across her stomach, then turns away and closes the bedroom door, inspecting herself in the full length mirror that’s hung on it, “Th-that’s perfect. Thank you.”

I want to tear my eyes away from her. I don’t want to watch her turning slowly in circles, inspecting herself in the mirror. I don’t want to think about the fact that she wants to look perfect for him.

Giving herself one last ‘once over’, she turns back to me with a smile.

I walk out of the room before she has a chance to speak again.

***

There’s no escaping the cloud of awkwardness as the five of us stare at one another from around the circular table. The restaurant is fairly empty, and it seems like all we need is a spotlight to confirm us as the center of attention in the room.

Maria has schooled me on the story that Brody’s been using about waking out of a five year coma in a hospital in Mexico, where his identity was unknown. It feels like something out of a soap opera, but we have to go along with it. The story that he’s told Sydney is that Maria is the one who found him, and nursed him back to health. Or something like that, I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I’m not gonna’ blow his stupid cover. This is a way of life for me, I don’t need a backstory.  Evasiveness is my craft.

“So, Michael…”

I look up to see him staring at me, with a partial smile on his face, “Uh, yeah?”

“I hear you’re something of an artist.”  He raises his eyebrows as if he’s actually interested in hearing about it.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Really. I’ve heard you’re very good.”  He gives me half a smile, and takes a drink of whatever it is he’s drinking. I’m trying not to stare at the weird tie he’s wearing.

“Huh. So, what are you doing, anyway? Still own that UFO thing in Roswell?”

He laughs a little and shakes his head.  “No, no, I sold that years ago, before my accident.”

I just nod and hope that’s all I’m supposed to contribute to the conversation. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Allie watching me closely. I think she knows something is up, but she can’t figure out what it is. Maria is watching her as well, I can tell. When we walked in, Allie insisted on sitting between the two of us, and I think Maria’s been suspicious about what she’s thinking ever since.

He seems to have given up trying to have a conversation, and turns to Allie. I can see her a make an ‘Oh great, it’s my turn’ face, and I almost laugh, but I have to give her a warning look instead.

“And, Allie, I hear you’re in the first grade,” he says, leaning forward, and raising his eyebrows. He’s talking to her like she’s a little kid, and she hates that. I suppose he doesn’t know that, but I feel like laughing again anyway.

“Uh, yeah.”  Allie nods with an almost smile. I told her to be polite about three hundred times on the car ride over. Maria is nervous enough about this, and I know it would kill her if Allie did something rude.

“That must be fun,” he says, “what are you learning now? How to read?”

Her mouth falls open a little and she just stares at him. She’s been reading for over two years and, to her, that’s just insulting.

“Oh,” Maria says, nervously clearing her throat, “she’s been reading for quite a while.”

“Have you?” Brody turns back to Allie with an even bigger smile. “Well, that’s excellent. Learning other things then. Mathematics, geography? We’re from London, in England. Do you know where that is?”

Allie narrows her eyes, “Uh, yeah, of course.”

Maria shifts in her seat uncomfortably.

Brody doesn’t seem to mind Allie’s response, he simply smiles and turns to Sydney who has also been quiet all evening.  “Syd, did you know that Michael and Maria went to high school together?”

“Oh,” Sydney says.

That’s right, that’s all I am, just some guy she dated in high school. Maybe that’s why Brody doesn’t feel at all threatened by me. My gaze travels to Maria who is attempting a conversation with Sydney. She said we were just stupid kids, and I guess she meant it. I feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me. This just keeps getting better. The love of my life has reduced me to the status of a high school fling.

***

Allie leans against my arm and looks up at me. We’ve been sitting in the waiting area of their hotel lobby for fifteen minutes while Maria and Brody have a conversation several feet away. Sydney excused herself to go up to her room a while ago, and I wish we had the same luxury, but we’re stuck sitting here.

Maria is smiling softly as Brody speaks to her. Her hand is on his arm, and I know that she won’t touch him any more than that in Allie’s presence, but I’m still afraid that she’s going to slide her arms around his neck and kiss him.

“I am so bored ,” Allie says, jabbing me in the arm with her elbow.

“We just have to wait.”

“Don’t wanna’ wait. How can she talk to him so much, anyway? He sounds funny.”

I can’t help the laugh that slips out of my mouth. It’s true, he’s actually gone from his old Mid-Atlantic accent to sounding like a Bostonian with a speech impediment.

“They’re from England.”

“No,” Allie says, shaking her head, “that girl sounds like she’s from there, but he just sounds weird.”

I smile wryly, and look the other way so that she can’t see me. She starts kicking my leg over and over in the same spot, so I grab her ankle to hold it still, and look down at her, “Knock it off.”

“I wanna’ go …” she whines.

“Behave.”

She crosses her arms angrily, but stops with the kicking and the whining. We sit in silence for a few more minutes, and I actually wish she’d start up again, just so that I’d have something to distract me from watching Maria.

Maria leans her head to the side as she tells him something. Her mouth moves slowly, and her lips are perpetually pulled up at the corners into a smile—to match his, I guess. He looks at her as if he’s amazed by her very existence. They look like those couples on the Time Life Music infomercials who stroll hand in hand through a field of wild flowers as Kool And The Gang sing ‘Reunited’ and a bunch of song titles stream by on the side of the screen. It’s making me wonder if I could zap him from here, without raising my arm, and blame it on spontaneous combustion.

“I am so bored .”

Thank God, she’s started in again.

“Me too.”

“I wanna’ go.”

“Me too.”

“Oh,” she’s stumped as to where to go from there, I think, and I look down to see that she’s making a fish face, cheeks sucked in, lips squished together. My breath comes out of my nose in a sharp woosh , and I bite back a smile.

The sound of laughter startles us both, and we look up to see Brody and Maria approaching.

“That’s quite the face you were making,” Brody says with a smile to Allie. She just stares at him.

Maria is watching us carefully, so I stand and raise my eyebrows, hoping that this means we can leave.

“Brody is taking Sydney to Disneyland,” Maria says, “he thought maybe Allie would like to go.”

What? He was just supposed to meet Allie. Well, he met her. Isn’t that enough? Maria knows what I’m thinking, because she swallows hard and looks away from me. I can’t believe this.

I look down at Allie to see her reaction. She appears unimpressed with the idea, rolling her eyes because the tourists want to go to Disneyland.

“Yes—in two days—on Thursday,” Brody says, giving Allie another big smile.

Suddenly, Allie’s very interested, leaning forward in curiosity. I narrow my eyes, “That’s a school day.”

Brody glances at me, and Maria gives me a look. Her eyes are softly pleading me to play along, as she says, “Well, just this once…”

Allie’s eyebrows are about to fly off her head. She doesn’t know that skipping school is an option. Because it isn’t. And I never, ever, want it to be. I shake my head, “Maria…”

“Maria, maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Brody says, laying a hand on her arm.

He’s moving his fingers. Why is he moving his fingers on her arm? I gonna’ kill him. I am going to kill him!

Maria gives me a pleading look, and it pulls my gaze away from his hand. This is inevitable, and I know that, but I’m not ready for Allie to spend time with him. Taking a deep breath, I try to keep my boiling blood under control. I can’t lose it in the middle of a hotel lobby. Maria hasn’t let up on the pleading look, and I realize that she has as much right to make this sort of decision as I do, but she’s letting me decide. “I guess,” I say carefully, looking at Allie, “just this once.”

Allie’s look is smug as Brody talks about his plans. I don’t hear a word he says, because he still hasn’t taken his hand from Maria’s arm.

Finally it seems that we’re ready to go, and Allie holds her arms up to me, like she used to when she was little. I reach down and pick her up, and she lays her head against my shoulder as we watch Brody and Maria say good-bye.

It’s obvious that they feel censored. Their smiles are large, and he almost hugs her twice, but doesn’t. Allie groans her boredom, and Maria turns to us, playfully patting the little girl’s back.

“She’s had a long day,” Maria says to Brody, smoothing Allie’s hair back. As she does, her fingertips just graze my jaw.

//Brody grabbing her hand as she walks past him in a long hallway, asking her how she is feeling.//

The flash startles me, and I stare at Maria, this is the second time she’s done that today. She waves over her shoulder at Brody as we walk away, then looks up at me. It’s obvious that she has no clue that this is happening.

***

Maria is leaning against the counter eating an apple when I walk in the kitchen.

“Did she go to sleep?” she asks me absently as I open the refrigerator.

“Yeah.”

She nods, and watches me as I open the bottle of juice I just retrieved, then speaks in the sweet voice she’s been using all night, “I wanted to thank you for tonight—.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. “Don’t.” The last thing I want to hear is that I’m being a great sport about everything. I hate it. I hate him. I’m not being good, I’ve just given up.

“No,” she shakes her head, insisting on continuing with this topic, “you’ve been really great about—.”

Slamming my juice down on the counter, I glare at her. She seems startled by my action, but then puts one of her hands on her hip.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Michael?”

“No.”

I pick up the juice and turn to leave the room. It hurts. This whole thing hurts like hell, and now he isn’t happy with just Maria, he wants Allie to like him too.

“Wait. Why don’t you just—for once—tell me what you’re thinking?”  The hand with the apple cuts animatedly through the air, and her tone is one I’ve heard a thousand times before.

“I’m not thinking anything.”

I know what she thinks, she thinks that she should never have agreed to me and Allie meeting Brody.  Not this soon anyway.  And, maybe she's right.  Maybe I realize that now.  But it's too late, and I have to take this frustration out on someone.  She's closest.

She shakes her head exasperatedly and narrows her eyes; she looks ferocious, and hotter than hell. I look away quickly and leave the room.

***

Maria is pacing nervously in the front hall as Allie, Jak, and I watch her from the sofa in the living room. Brody is coming for Allie and Maria in a few minutes.

“Does she not like Disneyland or something?” Allie asks me, quietly.

I look down at her, then turn to Jak who seems curious about Maria’s behavior as well.  “Uh, no. I think she drank too much coffee.”

They both nod as if everything is perfectly clear now, and we continue to watch her. The doorbell finally rings, and Maria practically runs to answer it. Brody walks in, explains that Sydney is waiting in the rental car, and asks if they’re ready to leave.

Jak and I both follow Allie into the hallway. Brody’s smile wavers for a moment when he sees Jak. There’s something uncomfortable about his manner now, and he seems anxious to leave.

Maybe it isn’t Jak that has him looking like he’d rather face a firing squad. Maybe it’s me. I keep my eyes trained on him, and wonder if Maria told me about my little explosion in the kitchen last night. For some reason, the thought that she might call him for consolation when she’s mad at me makes my blood start to boil.

“Ok,” Maria says, turning to look at me guardedly, “We’ll be home late this afternoon.”

I nod, and look down at Allie, clearing my throat to begin the last minute instructions in my most parental tone.  “Hey, be—.”

“Good,” she finishes for me, nodding.

I raise my eyebrows to show that I’m not amused, then continue, “And, do whatever—.”

“My mother tells me,” she smirks patronizingly.

I give her a look, and she blinks at me innocently. I hold up my right hand, and point at it with my left. She nods in understanding: hold an adult’s hand at all times.

Maria watches me carefully for a moment as she takes Allie’s hand; there’s a flash of something in her eyes—fear, regret, or maybe it’s nothing—I don’t know. I’m through trying to guess what goes on in her head. She gives Brody one of her sedate Maria-ghost smiles and follows him out the door with Allie in tow.

“Well, kid, looks like it’s just you and me today,” I say, looking down at Jak as he stares at the now closed front door.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Wanna’ hit the arcade or somethin’?”

“What is the arcade?”

“The arcade it is then. If you don’t know what it is, we have to go there.” I’ve taken it upon myself to try to immerse the kid in human culture so that he can be ready to go to a normal school by next fall. It’s not that I mind having him around all day, but he’s going to have to adjust at some point.

I take off for the backdoor before I start to think about the company my daughter and her mother will be keeping today.

***

“Hey.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“What’s all this?” I ask as I open the door a little wider to accommodate everything Allie is carrying in.

“Uh, Disneyland stuff.”

Stuff. Three stuffed animals, a soccerball with mouse ears all over it, a large case of colored pencils, a mug— stuff .

“Well, why do you have all of this stuff ?”

“Brody bought it for me,” she calls over her shoulder as she mounts the stairs, obviously taking the overwhelming bounty to her room.

“Hi,” Maria says softly as she walks in. She’s carrying a giant stuffed animal.

“ Jesus .” I can’t stop the look of contempt that settles on my face.

“Michael.” She shakes her head, as though she wants to avoid a confrontation.

“ Maria .”

She lowers her eyes, but doesn’t walk away as I close the door. Taking a weary breath, she looks up at me, speaking softly, “He wanted to get her some souvenirs.”

“ Souvenirs? ”

With a roll of her eyes, she drops the oversized duck to the floor. Her jaw tightens, and she looks angry. “If you want to fight about this, you’re going to have to come up with more than one word comments, Michael.”

“He’s trying to buy her love.”

“That is so unfair. Not to mention ridiculous! She’s only known him for a day—.”

I cut her off before she can even get started. I can tell she was about to launch into one of her mile-a-minute rants. “How am I supposed to react to this? I don’t let anyone spoil her. No one. So, just because it’s your boyfriend doing it this time, I’m not supposed to say anything.”

“You know this has nothing to do with spoiling her,” she says venomously, “this is because it’s Brody.”

“What if it is?” I ask with a sneer. “He’s trying to win her over—.”

She seems to have cooled off, because she suddenly silences me by placing her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, I knew it was too soon for this. I should never have let him talk me into it. I should never have let you talk me into it.”

“So, now this is my fault,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Whatever calm she managed to collect vanishes as she glares at me. I think she’s ready to punch me, and the thought of it actually happening perversely excites me. She’s steaming mad, ready to fight me tooth and nail, and it’s turning me on. I wish she would hit me. I wish she’d do something that would justify me throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her off to my bedroom.

“You’re the one who told me to invite him, Michael! I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do here.”

That’s right. Cuss, Maria. Let it all out. Her eyes look almost wild, and I can feel the heat that’s being released as she lets go of her pretenses. It’s like she’s coming alive in front of me.

“I’ll tell you what you can do. Give him a one-way ticket back to England.”

Her face twists slightly, as if someone is strangling her. For a minute I wonder if she thinks that’s what I’m doing. “Do you have any idea what he means to me?”

I grab the finger that she’s about to jab pointedly into my chest, and wrap my other arm around her waist, pulling her close. For a few tense moments, the masochist in me thinks she has the same idea I do.

Then she slips out of my grasp and walks away.

Guess I was wrong.

***

Max is studying me from across the not very wide expanse of his dining room table. I think he probably has an idea why I’m here. He knows Brody is in town. I’m sure he has guessed how I feel about that. Maybe Maria has told him how I’ve been behaving. That just pisses me off.

“So, you came over to talk?” Max asks me skeptically.

“Yeah. So?”

“Well,” he says with a smirk, as though he’s laughing at some private joke, “you’ve never been one to, uh, chat .”

“Yeah. People change.”

I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the fact that he’s the only one who might have some insight into Maria’s thoughts on Brody.

“So, when can I expect the talking to begin? Seems like I’ve been doing most of it so far…”

He’s acting smug. I hate it when he’s smug. It makes me want to deck him. Placing my hands flat on the table in front of me, I push myself to my feet, and walk to the window that overlooks the parking lot of the apartment complex. I can see Isabel’s car. “Just forget about it, Max,” I say as I start for the door, “I’ll go pour my heart out to the drive-thru girl at McDonald’s. I like her a lot better than I like you—and she always gives me free fries.”

“Wait,” he says. I turn to see a look of pity cross his face and it sends a wave of self-loathing through me. Even my anger is transparent to people. I don’t have anything anymore. Suddenly I’m the poor trailer-trash kid with no lunch and holes in his shoes again--the kid who punches anyone who comes near him before they can get a wisecrack off. The only difference between then and now is that I’m so pathetic they don’t even want to wisecrack anymore.

“Is it Brody?” he asks softly, as if I’m not standing here ready to storm out of his place.

The anger is still burning in my throat, but I need to know what it is that I don’t know and he’s the only one who can tell me. I can’t afford my pride anymore. The help I couldn’t bring myself to ask when I didn’t fight for Maria is something I can’t survive without now. Mainly because deep down I know I can survive without Maria, even if it hurts like hell. I’ve done it once before.

This is about the only thing I have left. The one thing I know I can’t lose.

I swallow my pride and sit back down. “Does he want to take them to England?”

Maybe it’s my frankness, or maybe it’s the pathetic way I’m sitting here with my hands in my lap like a helpless weakling, but Max looks like he’s ready to cry--for me, of course. “The last thing Brody would do is separate a family. He’s spent years away from his daughter. Do you think he’d want to do that to someone else?”

“I don’t know. He’s trying to buy her off and stuff.”

“Allie? Or Maria?” he asks softly.

“Allie.” I shake my head at the notion of Brody trying to buy off Maria. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth. She worships him. The last thing he’d ever need to do is buy her.

Max nods thoughtfully, then gives me a searching look. “Is your problem really with Brody--or, is it with Maria?”

Perceptive.

“I don’t know her anymore, Maxwell. Every once in a while I see the real Maria, but then she disappears again. She didn’t want to come back. I’m beginning to think that it was more about me than it was about Allie. Maybe things would be easier for her if I wasn’t in the picture.”

“She would never take Allie away from you. Never.”

“I know. I know,” I say without any conviction.  “I just want to know what she’s thinking. I keep…”

He watches me, waiting for me to continue, but I can’t. She doesn’t want me anymore, and I’ve accepted that. Sort of. In the back of my mind, in that stupid secret hope section, I keep thinking that she’s going to want me again. I can’t blame her for hating me. I’ve always been a fuck-up. I did ruin her life. I guess I just keep thinking that if she loved me once, maybe it can happen again. It was a fluke the first time, I know that. She should never have loved me. But she did. And, the funny thing about flukes is that you don’t stop and just thank God for that one fluke, then trudge ahead on your own. The next time you’re in an impossible situation, you sort of wait around for the next miracle to come floating down from heaven. Of course it won’t. But that doesn’t stop you waiting for it just the same. I knew what I was doing; why I was fighting any interaction with Brody. It isn’t that I don’t realize that her leaving is inevitable. I’m just stalling. Waiting for the fluke, the miracle—waiting for that moment of divinely given vulnerability when she’s pouring sugar from one container to another and waiting for me to do something.

“Michael.” Max says my name as if it isn’t my name, but a word that mystifies him. I look up, expecting him to be trying to find a way to break it to me that there is no hope and that I should just make the best of the Brody situation. Instead, he just looks thoughtful.

I turn back to the window and happen to see Isabel leaving her building. I watch her cross the parking lot, heading for her car. My first instinct is to wave, to try to catch her attention, but then the reality of the gap between us rears its ugly head in my mind and I decide to stand here and watch her instead. I wonder what it would be like to be an objective observer at this window.

She glances up at Max’s window right before she opens her car door, and I know she sees me. A momentary pause and a downward shift in her expression are my only proof, though. She doesn’t want to acknowledge my presence.

Max clears his throat, and I’m not sure if he knows what I saw in the parking lot, or if he’s just checking to see if I’m silent because I’ve gone off the deep end. I don’t turn around or acknowledge him, so he tries again with a tentative, “ Michael? ”

“I’m going home.”

 TBC