Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
Pairings/Couples/Category: M/L
Rating: Teen, maybe Mature eventually
Summary: An older man can really crush a girl’s heart.
Author's Note: I know I was writing another story, but that computer is gone now. I don't know where all the files went and well... I just can't continue. But this story came to me... hope you all like what I have so far.
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1 – Intro
Elizabeth Parker is my name. They like to call me Liz. I come from your typical all-American household and I’m the youngest of four: two boys and two girls, though it feels like I’m the only child in the family. My brothers and sister are all at least ten years older than I am. So you can say that my conception was a surprise.
My family isn’t rich, but we’re not poor either. I’m lucky to be born into an upper-middle class family. My dad actually owns and runs a smooth operating restaurant business. My sister, Serena waits tables for a living while she goes through nursing school. My brothers, Kyle and Michael never stuck around town long enough to get dragged in. They’re somewhere off in LA doing God knows what. And I’m here, kind of off on my own, fending for myself.
It’s not too bad, I get much needed alone time. And anyways, I’ve got Alex and Maria to keep me company. I’ve known both since Mr. Payne’s science class at West Roswell Middle School. Their quirkiness attracted my attention and it helped that I’m a bit quirky myself too. It happens that way when you live in Roswell, New Mexico—it’s the alien capital of the world! And it’s also the theme to the restaurant my dad owns: The Crashdown. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I think it’s tacky, but most of the time, I don’t really care and I don’t really mind.
Maria and I wait tables a few nights a week. Whenever we’re short on money, my dad will let us take a couple of shifts. The job isn’t bad. And the tips are definitely great. On a good night, I’ll make $70 to $80. For a small town, our restaurant gets a lot of business—townies and out of towners both. We’ve only started working a year ago, since turning sixteen, but I’m definitely not planning on doing it for the rest of my life.
I have my heart set out on being an artist of some sort. I write, draw, paint, etch, and collage whenever I can. I love colors and I always make time to study the landscape around me, especially sitting outside my balcony to watch the sunrise or sunset. Most of the time, I’ll always capture it on camera before putting it to paper.
I always feel my best when I’m creating something; whether it is a drawing or painting or a piece of literature. I love that feeling. It makes me think anything can be done and that I’ll be the one to do it. My ultimate goal is to paint a masterpiece and write my life story in a memoir. If those two things are accomplished, I can live a happy life.
My parents know I have this passion for art, but they realize it’s not going to make me a lot of money. So they want me to study something concrete and something I can actually make a living off of. To ease their minds, I have given myself two options so far: 1. I can become an editor of some sort or 2. I can work in advertising. But again, I only just turned seventeen and I’m just working on trying to pass my current classes. School’s a bitch sometimes.
I know I should be doing better and getting the best grades. I don’t doubt my intelligence and ability to learn. But, school just doesn’t interest me—especially my English class. Ironic, isn’t it? Since I want to be an editor and that I love to write.
I barely put much into school. I’ve spent nights thinking about changing that, but whenever I know I should, I get lost in my head with other things. That’s how I end up not doing any of the assignments, at least… rarely doing any. However, when I do, I always end up with an A+. So again, I don’t doubt my ability, but honestly, it’s probably just procrastination and laziness.
Alex is very studious and he tries to keep me in line. But it doesn’t help that I’m also friends with Maria who is pretty much my equal. We have a bunch of classes together where the seating arrangements allow us to talk during class. We always partner up. Our presentations are always the best when we do them, but we always tend to think about things other than high school and grades. It’s probably our downfall, but for now, I want to blame it on our youth. Remember, they say it’s the time of our lives, these teenage years, so I definitely want to live it up.
Maria and I really are so much alike, though not in the looks department. She’s got those long model-like locks that flow down her back in curls. Me, well, I’ve got straight brown hair that I recently chopped off into this short bob. I like how the bangs cut across my forehead. I’ve grown into my “punk-rock” stage. I don’t go full-on black or anything. But the cut is blunt and my clothes are edgier compared to Maria’s feminine attire. We share the same tastes in pretty much everything, but I’ve always just liked things a little bolder. Maybe that’s why I’m such good friends with Alex too. He’s this great instrumentalist who can play the drums, guitar and piano. He doesn’t look the part of a rocker but he definitely can rock.
Other than those two, I float by here and there with social groups. I’m not particular on being in a clique. Maybe it’s my personality that doesn’t allow me to, or maybe I’m just not patient enough to have people sit there and judge me. I’m not stupid to know that they won’t, but I’m also not stupid enough to let it make or break me. And that’s why Maria and Alex are my best friends. We’ve always just got each other.
I may not spend all my time with one or the other, but when we are together, it just works. And I’m happy with that.
I wish all things came as easily though. I could list them for you, but I won’t. However, being seventeen and single sucks. I go to school, I come home, I go out, and all I see are couples. My parents have been together for thirty-two years now. It’s really amazing. They had me when they were about forty. I’ve witnessed many an argument between them and have even cried over several of them, but they’ve always made it work and stuck together.
Even my sister is engaged now. She’d been dating Doug for about three years and he finally popped the question to her about a month ago. They plan to marry next year spring time. I’m really excited because I’m the Maid of Honor. I get to plan the bridal shower and bachelorette party. I just hope I can pull it off for her.
Thinking about the wedding makes me want a guy of my own. I tell myself all the time that I don’t need a man to make me happy. It’s definitely true, but my poor romantic heart wants someone to hold me when I get scared or someone to kiss when the ball drops for New Years. I want flowers like my sister and I want an anniversary like my parents. I know that eventually it’ll happen for me too.
I know if I really wanted one, I can get a boyfriend anytime, but I’m just picky. It’s not to say that I’ve never liked anybody, but I’m looking for a guy that’ll make my heart pound—someone that’ll make me feel much more. I want someone who’ll understand me, someone who’ll be my best friend and make me want to be a better person. I want someone who can give me the feeling like I can do anything—like the feeling I get when I’m creating something. It’s like White Oleander when she says, “You must find a boy your own age, someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered, someone whose fingers are a poem.”
And I just haven’t found him yet.
But it’ll be the story of my life.
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2 – The Meeting
My dad’s got this guy coming over for dinner tonight. And mom’s got me helping her in the kitchen. I hate cooking and it’s not from lack of trying, but I just can’t absorb correct heating temperatures and simple measurements. So I stick to cutting, peeling and chopping. I do so carefully so I don’t cut myself of course. This is reason enough for me to know I shouldn’t be in the restaurant business for anything except looking pretty as a waitress and getting a good amount of tips.
I don’t really know what mom’s cooking; I just follow her instructions until I’m finished. I wish I didn’t have to be here, but my parents insisted I sit down to dinner with them—it’s been a while since we’ve had a family dinner together. My parents are so old fashioned.
After I finish chopping, I turn to my mom who’s bent over the stove poking at something in the pot, “Hey, veggies are chopped. Am I done here?” I know—I’m impatient. It’s gotten worse over the years towards my parents especially.
Without a glance towards me, my mom simply states, “Yes, dear. Go and get dressed.”
I’m puzzled. I didn’t think this guy was a big deal; certainly not enough to impress with mom’s best china. “Dressed? Is this like a fashion police that’s coming or what? I thought this was a casual dinner.”
She turns to me and gives me a smile, “Yes, sweetie. But I hardly doubt the way you look right now is presentable to any company, fashion police or not.”
“What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” It’s so comfortable being sloppy!
“Honey, you’ve got plaid, stripes and bright pink socks on. Don’t you think that’s over doing it?”
I throw my towel at her and laugh, “Yeah, but it’s comfortable!”
“Honey…” Oh, my mom, the perfectionist. I love her.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll change…” Though she can be a bit anal about things, I know she means the best. And once I turn the corner into my room and spot myself in the mirror, I can see why she was very adamant about my wardrobe change. I look like a three year old trying to dress herself! Normally, I’m not that bad. I actually pride myself in my fashion sense. I guess I was just too tired to care after coming home from school today.
Looking through my closet, I pick out my favorite tee-shirt and shorts. I must say I’ve definitely grown into my body. And luckily, I scored in the breast department. Admiring myself, I decide to wear my favorite earrings too. After awhile, I sit on my bed feeling boredom creep into my bones and I end up sitting at my dresser putting makeup on.
As a younger kid, I would play with my mom and sister’s makeup. I’d play dress up with their jewelry, shoes and dresses. Sometimes I still do, but it’s a lot easier now to just experiment with makeup. And when I’m too tired to paint or draw, I’ll sit in front of the mirror and apply makeup. It’s weird, I know. But it relaxes me.
As I’m finishing up, my mom knocks on my door, “Honey, dinner’s ready. Come join us.”
“I’ll be right there!” I shout through the closed door.
Ten minutes later, I’m out the door and sitting myself across from a stranger. I daresay a pretty hot stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Good thing I’ve put on my best makeup.
“Good of you to join us, Liz,” my dad says to me, knowing how I am with time management.
“I was doing something,” I replied. Of course my dad knows I wasn’t. Normally he would poke fun at me, but he just turns to the stranger and introduces us.
I look to the man across from me, Max, and smile and nod. I always get nervous when I find someone attractive. So I don’t say much during dinner. Instead, my parents and Max end up talking about their upcoming business plans. It seems like my parents want to open up another restaurant and Max is going to help them set the deal.
I finally ask, “Since when did you guys decide on opening up another one?”
“Your mom and I have always wanted to branch out. Now will be a good time to start since you’ll finish school and Serena will be getting married next year. We hope to come up with a concept, a location, and the whole works by then. It’ll keep us going since everyone’s going to be off doing their own thing.”
“Oh. Well, that’s cool.”
After a brief pause, my dad speaks up softly, “Depending on where you go to school, we may even open it close to you.”
Confused, I ask, “What do you mean close to me?” I look around the table and notice everyone’s kind of keeping their mouth shut. “Are you serious?”
“Well, it’ll be really good for everyone especially if you go to Albuquerque. There’ll always be a job for you and it’ll give us reason to come visit you more often.” Mom tries to come to dad’s defense. But I just hate that they’re so overprotective—worrying so much about me. It’s not like they care that Kyle and Michael are in LA by themselves… or that Serena is on the verge of marriage. No, they’ve got to focus on the one person in the house that doesn’t want all this attention.
It’s like he knew I’d react this way… and so like them to want to watch over me, even when I’m supposed to be independent. “I haven’t even finished school yet. And already you’re deciding what I’m going to do?” This is really annoying. I can’t believe they would already decide my future before I’ve even made any plans… at least… before they’ve discussed it with me!
“No. We said if you go there.” That’s not even the issue.
“That’s not the point, you said, depending on where I go to school…”
“It was just an option. Nothing’s really planned out yet.” Whatever! Wherever I go, they’ll always want to be there. That’s crazy!
“Honey, we’re not trying to decide anything for you. We just thought maybe it’ll be a good option. So please don’t get upset over this.” Mom tries to buffer the argument in the making.
“I’m sorry. I just… well, if I am going to school. I just thought… no… I want to be on my own—”
My mom cuts me off before I can go on, “Can we have this conversation another time?” She looks between my dad and me, “Please?”
“Yeah, okay,” I say. My parents are already apologizing to Max. And I understand it’s not a conversation to be blown out of proportion in front of him.
I’m a little bummed right now, but to get my mind off of what just happened, I turn to Max with a smile on my face that belies the irritation I’m feeling, “Welcome to the Parker household, Max.” I give him a shake of my head.
He chuckles and replies, “Thank you.” He’s got a great smile.
Before I could think about it, I ask, “If you don’t mind me asking, aren’t you a bit young to be going into business with my dad? I figure you’re what, twenty-two?”
“Liz! That’s rude, Max you don’t have to answer that.” I forget my manners in front of my mom sometimes, but I think I caught it from my granddad.
“No, it’s okay. I’m actually twenty-four.” He says it like he’s used to being aged wrong all the time. “It’s just that I’ve grown up with my mom’s business and she’s taught me all she knows. It’s better than any business college because I get experience. My family has a successful restaurant in LA.”
“Really?” I’m curious.
“Yeah, it’s called Bella.”
“That’s cool, so what makes you stop by to Roswell?”
“Liz, Max is Phillip Evans’ son.”
“What?? Really? How come I’ve never met you before?”
“My sister and I stayed with my mom in LA.”
“Oh.” I always wondered about Mr. Evans. He wasn’t here that long, but he was always nice to me. He and my dad were neighbors and Mr. Evans moved back into town to help his sick mom. “Why didn’t you guys come when Claudia died?”
Before Max can reply, my dad stops him, “Liz, I think that’s enough questioning.” I realize I’ve taken it too far and apologize. So much for a first impression… first I practically get into a yelling match with my parents, and then I step over the boundaries of polite conversation. “You should help your mom clean the table now. Max and I are just going to be in the study.”
“Okay dear. Come on Liz.” Mom turns to me and I resign to help her clean up. Sometimes I hate that my mom does all the cooking and cleaning because I think dad should take his turn and do it as well. But I can’t argue with them about it… they’re traditional like that.
I just know when I’m married, I won’t be a slave to my husband or house. Not saying that I won’t cook or clean, but I would hope we’d do it together and share the responsibilities. After washing and rinsing, mom makes me bring refreshments to dad and Max, telling me to mind my mouth while I do it.
Normally, I would protest, but this time I actually want to have a reason to be around Max. I don’t want my inappropriate behavior over dinner be the only thing he sees in me. I’d like to show him that I’m not always defiant or am I always as nosy and prying.
Jesus, I’ve been so bad.
I think, who could love a girl like me?
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Max just left. He’s staying at the Gilford—a pretty nice hotel for such a small town. I’ve only been there once. The restaurant kitchen caught on fire last year and though they stopped it before it did any real damage, the smoke permeated through the restaurant and the apartment we live in upstairs. For a week, we stayed at the Gilford waiting for cleanup, repairs and remodeling to finish as well as the fumes to dissipate.
But I guess Max will be staying in Roswell for a while since I’ve found out he’ll be managing the restaurant. My parents will be out of town next week for a convention they’ve planned months ago. They were going to have Serena and Doug look over for that week, but Max offered his help. He said he didn’t mind.
I wonder why he offered his services so quickly though. But I’m not going to argue because it means Max will be here for the next two weeks.
From what I’ve seen so far of Max, he’s a pretty quiet guy but is very honest. Even if I might have pried too far, he didn’t back down from trying to answer. I’m hoping to get to know him better the next couple of weeks. He seems like a cool guy and I hope maybe we can be friends. Plus, it definitely helps that he’s good looking. What can you say? I AM a girl, after all.
But before I go all boy-crazy, I remind myself he’s twenty-four. It doesn’t seem like a bad age, but that means he’s seven years older than me. By the time I’m twenty-one, he’ll almost be thirty. We’ll always be at different stages in our lives and I didn’t picture I’d want that. But a little harmless infatuation wouldn’t kill me, right?
I mean, the guy is beautiful!
Even though I’ve never dated anyone, I find a lot of guys attractive. Max’s got this hair thing to him; it kind of curls into his eyes and makes him look really young. He looks like he could be keeping a secret. I guess you’d call him a mystery man, with his dark features.
There’s an air of exotic to him—with his almost black hair to the long lashes and down to his tanned skin. When he smiled, his eyes would sparkle, though, I never dared look him directly in the eye. I just happened to notice when he wasn’t looking my way.
I could tell he probably worked out or played a sport. He had a lean, muscular and athletic body. There aren’t that many guys other than the jocks at school who fit that category here. So, Max will definitely be eye candy to many girls. I bet he has a girlfriend in LA. It would be just my luck… I meet someone who I’m instantly attracted to and they’re attached.
But it’s not like it would work out anyways, I try to tell myself. He’s too old for me. And he probably thinks I’m too young for him anyways; I am only seventeen. It would be illegal. This just makes me wish I was older. Makes me a little bit sad.
I get up to turn on my stereo. Whenever I start feeling down, I put on Sarah McLachlan. And I get inspired to write. This time though, I feel like drawing. I take out my sketch pad and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve got a pair of eyes staring back at me. It’s not enough, so I begin to mix my paints to match the very color of his eyes. With a touch of white, his eyes are now sparkling like I remember them.
I shake my head, and think, boy, this is deep. “Get a grip, girl.” I tell myself out loud. I hang the picture on my mirror, stare at it for a bit, and realize I feel better.
I put my things away and start listening to the song playing—
Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay
there's always one reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
oh beautiful release
memory seeps from my veins
let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
in the arms of an angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort there...
She’s a true artist. I will never be a singer or songwriter, but I hope I’ll be able to express myself just as powerful one day. Until then, boys are just a distraction. My bed calls to me, giving me comfort to sleep peacefully.
—so I say goodnight.
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Edited to say:
1. The quote from White Oleander is by Janet Fitch
2. The song by Sarah McLachlan is Angel from her album, Mirrorball
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I also want this story to be more than just Max and Liz and I'm really trying to incorporate a real family situation as well as friendships.
However, again, happy ending, but it'll be a long time coming. So fair warning!
Just wait and see!