My Beloved Wife (MATURE) - Ma/Ma - UC - {COMPLETE}

[Midwest Max]

Oh, okay! Stop your whining!


Part Twenty

I’m floating.

Everything around me is dark, but I don’t feel anxious or worried or frightened. Far below me, I see a car on its roof, a random air bubble rising to the surface. Above me, I see a speck of white light, muted and welcoming. I lift my head toward it and feel calm blanketing my soul.

She’s before me, her long dark hair billowing in every direction in the water. Her smile is sweet, so like I remember it, as she stretches out her hand for me. I have to smile in return as I reach for her, clasp her hand in mine.

The darkness is gone and there is nothing but light. I’ve been here before, in this warm place, and I know I was with her. My time here was fleeting, but this time I have to wonder if I’m here to stay. I try to say something, but no sound leaves my lips. My brow furrows at that, but she laughs soundlessly and puts her finger to my lips. Then she leans in and kisses me, a lost kiss that brings tears to my eyes.

Without speaking, she tells me not to worry. I’m safe and everything is going to be okay. I immediately believe her. I want to know if I’m dead, but she shakes her head as she continues to smile. She takes both of my hands in hers, her dark eyes turning downward to look at them. When she raises her head, she gives me a knowing, affectionate look, then turns to look over her shoulder.

We’re not alone. Maria is with us, though I feel her presence is unlike mine – I think perhaps one or both of us has imagined her here. Liz releases one of my hands and beckons to her friend. Maria steps forward and Liz brings our hands together, then slowly slips away.

I don’t want her to go. I was Liz to stay here with me, with us. But as she’s fading into the background, I feel a wave of acceptance wash over me. I look down into Maria’s green eyes and I know what Liz is telling me – it’s okay to be with her, to live our lives together. I glance in Liz’s direction again, but she has faded away. I don’t feel remorse because I know that someday we will see one another again.

Maria smiles and touches my cheek. I capture her hand in mine and lean in to kiss her…

The warm comfort of that in-between world is gone. My head is throbbing, the pain almost unbearable, and my lungs scream in protest. I struggle to open my eyes and clear my senses. Around me, I hear noises – hospital noises, those annoying beeps and blips that echo each time my aching heart pounds. I also hear voices, hushed and hurried words. But the worst will always be the smells – I hate how hospitals smell, that antiseptic, biology lab odor of sickness and death.

There are blond women in my room. I search their faces desperately, trying to focus on my visitors. But neither of them is Maria – those faces belong to Isabel and my mother. Inside, hope plunges to the ends of my toes. This can’t be happening again…

Unable to control it, I start to weep like a two year old.

Mom’s hands cradle my head. She’s touching me gingerly and I wonder what my condition is – is she afraid of hurting me? “Sh, Max,” she says soothingly and I’m reminded of falling off my skateboard when I was a kid. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She looks over her shoulder. “Izzy, go get the doctor.”

As Isabel disappears, I follow her movements, struggle to sit up. There are tubes and wires everywhere and that infuriates me.

“Honey, please lie back,” Mom says as she pushes my shoulders back to the mattress. I’m too weak to resist her.

I cover my face with my hand and immediately regret it – pain shoots through my nose and into my cheekbones. Ever the gentle nurturer, Mom takes my hand and gently lays it on my chest.

“Don’t try to move, sweetie,” she says calmly. “You’ve been through a lot.”

God, I don’t care about me. I only care about Maria.

“Your nose is broken,” Mom continues, her voice soothing. “There may be fractures in one of your cheekbones. So try not to touch your face, okay? Max?”

I can’t quit sobbing. What kind of monster am I? Or am I just cursed? Why does everyone around me end up paying? The worst part is that I don’t have the strength to make a mad dash for the morgue like I did when Liz died. I can’t even go say goodbye.

Mom kisses me gently on the forehead. “Sh, honey. It’s okay. The doctor is coming.”

“I don’t want the doctor,” I choke out, my voice hoarse, like my throat is covered with sandpaper. “I want Maria!”

She smiles at me. “She’ll be back in a minute, Max. She just went to get some coffee. Don’t worry.”

What? My sobs cut off like someone turned a spigot. What did she just say?

Mom’s eyes are kind as she pushes my hair away from my forehead. “That’s right. She’s okay. She’s been out of the hospital for five days now. They treated her for hypothermia, but she’s all right.”

Relief rushes through me and a hundred pound weight is lifted from my soul. I feel drained, like I barely have the strength to keep my eyes open. It can’t be. I can’t be this lucky.

Wait – did she say five days?

“Mom?” My voice is nothing more than a croak.

She adjusts my blankets and I hadn’t realized until now that I’m incredibly cold. I’m shivering and shaking visibly.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Mom says and I detect a hint of fright in her voice. “You’re the one in a million that has survived being trapped under water in sub-zero temperatures and lived to talk about it.” Her smile is bittersweet.

“How?” I choke.

She gives a shrug. “I don’t understand it fully. But there’s something about the cold that slows down the body’s functions so that it goes into a sort of suspended animation instead of…dying.” She trips over the last word, but then forces herself to smile for my sake. “I’ve read about it before, but never thought it would hit so close to home.”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” My jaw is chattering as I shiver. I’m not sure if I’m shivering or if my body is just revolting and I’m trembling instead.

She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry, Max. It was an accident. You didn’t mean for it to happen.”

The door flies open and the doctor enters, followed closely by my sister. His face breaks into a smile as he comes to the bedside. Mom gets up and gives him access to me. I look at him warily – I know I’m his lab rat.

“Look who woke up!” he says jovially. He thinks he’s funny. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was hit by a truck,” I shiver.

He laughs. “Actually, we think the windshield did that damage.” He pulls his pen light from his pocket and starts shining it in my eyes, the bright beam stinging.

Mom reaches for Isabel’s arm and they back out of the room to give the doctor privacy to carry out his rituals.

“You’re a lucky young man,” he says, taking my pulse, trying to be chipper. I just want him to go away.

I suffer all of the doctor’s poking and prodding and when he’s done I ask if I can go home. He laughs and tells me no. I hate him already. He leaves whistling and scribbling on my chart, proud of a job well done. He might be happy with the results, but I’m still lying here shivering and feeling miserable.

The door pushes open tentatively and I see Maria’s head peek through. In her eyes, I see a moment of absolute delight, of relief, but that fades quickly. I have to look away – she must be furious with me. She comes to stand by the bed and I feel the tears welling up in my eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice raw.

She sits down on the edge of the bed and picks up my hand. She looks perfect, unmarred. Somehow she escaped that wreck without a scratch on her and for that I’m grateful. I will take all of the broken noses and fractured cheekbones in the world if she’ll just be okay.

“Can I hug you?” she asks cautiously.

I nod, letting her know that I’m not in too much pain to let her touch me. I can’t lift myself from the bed, so I simply hold out my arms and she climbs into them, her head resting on my chest. I turn my head to the side so she doesn’t bump my face. The scent of her shampoo momentarily blocks out the hospital odors.

“You saved my life,” she says against my chest. “You saved mine and sacrificed yours.”

I remember nothing about that accident. I remember the car spinning and that’s it. The result of the head trauma, I suppose.

She lifts her head, her green eyes moist. “Do you remember?”

I shake my head.

“I couldn’t get my belt undone,” she says, her voice anxious. “You stopped trying to get yours unclasped and got me out instead. You used what air and strength you had to push me out of the car. How can you be sorry for that?”

I lift my hand, my arm muscles protesting, and rub her back. She sits up quickly and wipes her face.

“Look, Max, there’s something we need to talk about.”

Oh God. Here it comes. She is mad and she’s going to let me have it.

“I’m sure this is going to send you running for the door, but it is what it is.”

My brow furrows. What the hell is she talking about?

“And I’ll understand if you want to go. It can be my problem. You’re off the hook, free to go to Tibet or whatever you want to do.”

I reach for her arm but she pulls away from me. Either she’s talking in riddles or my latest trauma has sapped reason from my mind.

“I have to tell you before you hear it from one of the others.”

I capture her arm this time and plead with my eyes for her to please finish her thought.

She lets out a snort and stares into her lap. “Christ, there’s no easy way to say this.” She meets my gaze, hers uncertain and challenging all at the same time. “Max, when they brought me in here, they did some routine tests.”

Oh no! She’s dying! How can she think I’d want to leave her when she’s dying? How can she think I’d let her die?

But her revelation has more to do with life than death. Her gaze steady, her voice unwavering, she gives me the news I never expected to hear.

“Max, I’m pregnant.”


tbc

[Midwest Max]

Good morning, everyone! Thanks for reading, comments will follow.

Sort of fluffish - Max has a couple of hospital visitors.


Part Twenty One

Michael picks through the food left on my dinner tray, pushing aside anything green or healthy. He’s still a bottomless pit and I’ll gladly let him consume whatever he wants to get the nurses off my back – I feel like eating nothing.

“Can I have this?” he asks, holding up a cup of Jell-O.

I nod and he digs in eagerly.

I watch him tiredly, wishing I could just go home. Little by little, I’ve been healing the fracture in my cheek bone since I don’t want to go under the knife to have the damage repaired – the less these people prod me, the better off I’ll be. I can’t heal it all at once because it would be too suspicious. Besides, I lack the strength to do it in one shot.

“Michael, I should have told you about me and Maria,” I confess while he pushes Jell-O cubes around the inside of the bowl with the tip of the spoon.

He looks up, his eyebrows lifted slightly. “Not a problem, man.”

I shake my head. “Maybe not, but I shouldn’t have let you find out this way.” I don’t care what he says – it has to be hard to see the ex with your best friend.

He waves me off as he discards the spoon and brings the Jell-O container to his lips; he sucks all of the cubes into his mouth at once then tosses the empty container onto the tray. “Doesn’t matter.” He wipes his hands on his pant legs and surveys the remainder of my dinner. Apparently nothing looks appetizing because he doesn’t ask to pilfer anything else. “I can’t stay long,” he admits. “I flew here as soon as the accident happened – gotta get back to work. Hard to miss a week at a time.”

“Okay,” I agree. “Thanks for coming out here, Michael. You didn’t have to.”

He smirks, as close as Michael ever gets to a smile. “Sure I did. There were tracks to cover.”

I give him a grateful smile – I know he’s been lurking in the hospital, covering up and removing evidence of my biological makeup. Michael’s visit may have been more out of necessity than compassion, not that I don’t think he was concerned about me.

“You should seriously think about hiring a chauffer,” he jokes lightly.

I snort a little laugh. Only Michael would be ballsy enough to bring up that.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but the door swings open and he looks like a deer caught in oncoming headlights. I turn my head slightly and see Mae standing in the doorway in all of her unbelievable beauty.

“Hey, cowboy,” she calls as she comes over to the bed and kisses me on the forehead.

Michael jumps to his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets. I watch him curiously as he scoots his way to the door. “I’ll call you before I leave town,” he says to me, avoiding any contact with Mae.

“Okay,” I say, craning my neck to see around Mae’s body. “You all right?”

“Yep. Just time to go.” He glances at Mae. “See ya.” Then he’s out the door.

I turn my attention to Mae, who is wrinkling her nose.

“He’s a skittish one,” she says, plopping down on the edge of the bed and poking at the remains of my dinner – he may be skittish but they do have dinner pillaging in common.

“That’s just Michael,” I say, trying to divert attention from his bizarre behavior.

“I know,” she says, picking up a banana. “I met him the other day. He’s got a lot of underlying hostility. Can I eat this?”

I nod as I realize why Michael is skittish around Mae – Isabel was absolutely correct in thinking that our outspoken friend could make Michael run for the hills. In my mind, I imagine her saying something totally off the wall to him and him panicking. It makes me smile.

“That’s new,” she says, taking a bite of the banana.

“What?” I ask.

“The grin. I haven’t seen that out of you in a while…then again, you’ve been unconscious for a week.”

My grin widens as much as I dare without making my injuries ache. Mae’s been in the room all of two minutes and already I feel a little better. She glances around the room as she takes another bite of the banana.

“So,” she asks, swallowing. “Where’s the family?”

I wince and adjust my position on the bed. “They went out for dinner. Apparently they were a little sick of hospital food.”

Mae nods, takes another bite of the banana. “And the little missus?”

Sadness washes over me as I think about Maria, about the way she left this room. After she made her announcement, she refused to hear anything I had to say. She’s certain that I’m going to run and leave her holding the bag – I could see that much in her eyes. She didn’t even give me the chance to ask her how far along she is or when is the due date. She didn’t give me the chance to be happy or upset about it. She simply bolted.

“She went home, I think,” I finally answer Mae.

“I hear there’s a bun baking,” Mae says, tossing the banana peel beside Michael’s empty Jell-O bowl.

I nod, somewhat sheepishly.

“Makes me glad I didn’t sleep with you,” she announces, folding her hands primly in her lap. “That’s some potent sperm you’re brewing in there.”

My neck, my cheeks and my ears all turn red this time. I don’t necessarily want to talk about my sperm production with Mae.

She seems not to notice my embarrassment. “How’s she handling the news?”

I frown and wave a hand in the air. “Not good, I don’t think.”

“You mean she doesn’t want to be pregnant?”

I shrug. “I can’t imagine she does. I mean, we’re not married and this definitely changes the scope of our relationship. On top of it, we’ve only been together for a little over a month.”

“But you’ve known each other for years,” she counters.

“Yeah, but on a different level.”

Mae folds her arms and regards me seriously. “Do you think she’s going to keep it?”

My mouth slowly drops open. That’s something I hadn’t considered. I guess I assumed she would, but maybe that assumption was wrong. “She didn’t give us time to discuss it,” I say.

“That’s a big decision,” she says, chewing on one of her fingernails, like she’s the one trying to decide. “How come you didn’t talk?”

I sigh and smooth out my blanket. I hate the IV that is still impeded in the back of my hand –the sooner it’s gone the better. “I think she’s a little freaked – she sort of blurted out the news and then left. I think she’s afraid I’m going to leave her.”

“Are you?”

My eyes shoot to hers. “No! Absolutely not!”

Her perfectly formed lips turn upward into a smile. “Okay, I believe you.”

I let out another sigh, this time borne of frustration. “How do I get her to believe me?”

Mae shakes her head. “I don’t know, Max. But to me, you seem like a pretty reliable guy. I can’t imagine she’ll be uncertain for long.” She pauses, her eyes searching mine and I’m expecting another revelation. Instead, I get a question. “How do you feel about all of this?”

Me? I’ve been concentrating so much on Maria’s feelings that I haven’t properly addressed my own. I think about it for a moment and realize that I’m not disappointed that I’m going to be a father. Startled, yes. Disappointed, no.

“I’m not unhappy,” I tell Mae. “I’ve always wanted kids and while the timing is poor, I can’t say as I’m sorry.”

She gives me a grin. “Sensible answer. I knew you were a sensible person.” The grin fades and her brow furrows. “You were on the other side again, weren’t you?”

Mae will always be Mae. I nod my head.

“Jesus, how many lives do you have?” she laughs.

I snort a laugh with her. If she only knew…

“You’re going to tell me about it some day, right?”

I nod tiredly. “Yeah, but not tonight, okay? I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” she says sympathetically. “I know.” She reaches out and takes my hand, caressing the back of it with her thumb. Frowning slightly, she touches my cheek.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” I ask. I’ve yet to see a mirror.

She shrugs. “You’re not as pretty as the first time I met you, that much is for sure. But I wouldn’t necessarily call you a mess. I sort of like the black and blue discoloration under your eyes. It makes them stand out more.”

I shake my head at her silliness and try not to laugh – that’s going to hurt when I finally do.

“Listen, would you mind if I stayed here for awhile?” Mae asks, looking for a chair to claim. “You gave us a little scare and I wasn’t really able to dote on you while the family was hogging up all the space in here.”

She’s flippant, but I’m touched by the fact that she’s been worrying about me.

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

“I won’t talk much,” she says, getting to her feet and dragging a chair close to the bed. “I’ll let you rest. I’d just like to hang around for a bit.”

I nod, comforted by the fact that she wants to be close. “Okay. Thanks, Mae.”

She plops into the chair and reclaims my hand, which she holds between both of hers. “Does this bother you?”

I shake my head. “No, that’s fine.”

Her smile is bright. “Okay, good. Go to sleep, Max. Rest. All will be fine.”

I find comfort in her touch, in the feel of her fingers gently massaging my aching joints. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath, trying to put worries of Maria and the baby to the back of my mind so I can recover. I want to get out of here and go home and get everything settled. But before I can do that, I have to be able to walk out on my own.

As my eyes are drooping closed, Mae’s voice jerks me awake.

“You know what I think Maria’s really worried about?” she asks.

I shake my head groggily.

“That your kid will have monkey ears.”

I can’t help it – in spite of everything, I burst out laughing. It hurts every bit as much as I thought it would.

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Even a saint sometimes loses his patience
Comments will follow!


Part Twenty Two

The world outside is blinding. I thought the interior of the hospital was bright, but it pales in comparison to sunlight on a ground cover of snow. As Mom helps me into the back seat of the rental car, she passes me a pair of sunglasses and gives me a little smirk. It seems odd that a creature of a desert climate should have such issues with a little sun.

Dad, Michael and Isabel have returned to New Mexico. In the meantime, Mom agreed to stay a few extra days to help me settle in at home. I’m sure Maria and I were capable of that, but Mom will always be a mom and there was no telling her no. I don’t mind her being here because she has never been suffocating in her mothering. She has retained her room at the hotel and has promised not to cramp us. Actually, I’m thankful for her presence because things are still a little strained between me and Maria.

Mom claims the driver’s seat and Maria slides into the passenger side. Adjusting her mirror, Mom gives me a glance.

“You okay, Max?” she asks.

I nod. I’ll be fine. It’s taking me a long time to recover from the accident. I’m not really sure why that is – it used to be that I could bounce back from anything in a matter of hours. But this is taking days. Maybe it’s a sign I’m getting old. Maybe it has something to do with the whole death/suspended animation thing. I’m not sure of the cause, but I know it sucks.

We drive to the apartment and I have to give Mom credit for her mastery of the Chicago city streets – driving in this city is somewhat a nightmare but she makes it look simple. All the while, she chats casually like she always does. But I know she’s not an idiot – she can see what’s going on around her.

At the apartment, I’m more than happy to see the couch, my old friend. Mom hurries and props a pillow against the arm so I can recline into it. Maria’s right behind her with a blanket and a cautious smile. I thank them both and fall asleep immediately.

I awake to the smell of something wonderful. As I clear the fog from my mind, I hear voices coming from the kitchen – Mom and Maria chatting about how to make lumpless gravy. I smile as I hear Maria try to act interested; I know she’s not. Groaning a bit, I push myself up on my elbow and look over the back of the couch.

On the table, candles are burning and three place-settings have been prepared. As soon as my head pops up, both women look my way, their conversation halted.

“Great!” Mom says. “You’re awake. I’m starving.”

I struggle to sit up and shakily push myself to my feet. Maria is there, putting my arm around her shoulders for support.

“What’s this?” I ask, still shaking sleep from my head.

“You missed Thanksgiving,” Mom says with a smile. “So we’re celebrating a little late.”

There’s turkey and stuffing and everything else that goes with Thanksgiving dinner. I look at the extent of their efforts and feel truly touched – and amazed that they did all of this without waking me. I half expect to find a bow tied around a body part when I go to use the bathroom…

Maria pulls out a chair and takes my arm while I sit down. I walked all of fifteen feet and I’m exhausted. This sucks so much.

“It looks wonderful,” I say, taking in each of them in turn. “Thank you.”

Mom looks delighted and goes about carving the turkey at the counter since our table is so small. I want to try some of everything, but my body isn’t used to consuming so much solid food. I pick at this and that but make sure I leave room for pumpkin pie. My mom makes the best pumpkin pie in the world.

Once dinner is done, Maria helps me back to the couch and plumps my pillow for me. Then she picks up a video tape and pops it into the recorder.

“What’s that?” I ask, resting my head against the back of the couch.

“The football games from Thanksgiving Day,” she says, handing me the remote.

I lift my eyebrows. While I was lying in a coma, she recorded football for me?

She gives a little shrug. “I knew you’d wake up eventually.”

Maria and Mom clean up while I start to watch the games, but soon I’m sleepy again. As I’m thinking I’m going to lose the battle, Mom stoops over me and kisses my forehead. She’s adjusting her scarf around her neck.

“I’m going back to the hotel,” she says. “There are plenty of leftovers for later, if you get hungry. I’ll stop in tomorrow and see you before I head for the airport.”

I take her hand briefly. “Thank you, Mom.”

She smiles, proud that she is such a loving parent. “You’re welcome. Love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Another kiss on the forehead and then she’s gone.

The apartment is silent. There’s no avoiding it now – there are no doctors or nurses or visitors to act like a buffer between me and Maria. It’s just her, me and the baby we haven’t discussed. She hovers in the kitchen, shoving pots and pans here and there trying to look busy. I wait for her to join me, not really sure how to broach this subject.

“I’m going to go back to the bedroom and read for awhile,” she announces from the end of the couch.

Really? I thought she’d want to be out here with me, since I’ve been cooped up in a hospital for ten days. “Okay,” is what I say to her.

“Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head.

Once she is gone, I stare dumbfounded at the television. Maybe I imagined the whole thing with the baby. Maybe I was delirious.

Then again, it is so typical of Maria to run from things she’s afraid of. Intimacy being the biggest fear of all. Haven’t I changed her mind in the slightest about that? Haven’t I proven that she can trust me? I get the feeling she’s once again preparing for the worst.

I’m still weighing the options of how to speak to her about this when I hear an awful, sick sound coming from the bathroom. I sit up a bit, tilting my head to see if the sound recurs. It does. She’s vomiting. Of course she’s vomiting – she’s still pregnant whether she wants to talk about it or not.

I push myself to my feet and slowly make my way down the hall, using the wall to support myself. I wait outside of the bathroom until the sounds die down and I hear the toilet flush. Cautious, I push open the door.

“Maria?” I say softly.

She’s sitting on the floor, her elbow on the toilet seat, propping up her head. Her face is drained of all color, her eyes closed.

“Go away, Max,” she orders without looking at me.

I shuffle into the room, my heart breaking at the sight of her so miserable. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” she snaps, dropping her hand and glaring at me. “Just go away.”

For the first time ever, I feel angry with her. I don’t have the strength to reiterate the things I’ve told her a thousand times. And if I’ve learned anything of late, it’s that time is short – and I don’t plan on wasting it playing her silly insecurity games.

“I’m not going away,” I tell her, my voice harsher than I’d intended it to be. “I’ve never wanted to go away. But it would be so much easier for you if I did, wouldn’t it?”

Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops open. “What does that mean?”

I lower myself to the edge of the bathtub because I lack the energy to hold myself up too long. “It means that if I bailed on you and left you with this kid, you wouldn’t have to admit that you love me enough to marry me and make a home for him.”

“Marry you?” she chokes.

“You want me to bail so that I will be the bad guy and you will once again be the victim. If I go, there’s just more proof that no one keeps their word, that everyone is out to hurt you.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. I’ve done nothing to deserve her cold shoulder.

She turns her gaze to the floor and I muse that she looks like she wants to vomit again.

“Well, I’ve got news for you,” I continue. “I’m not going anywhere. That baby in your belly is mine, too. I’ll take that responsibility not because I should but because I want to. I helped you make that baby out of love. I love him. And I love you. Tomorrow may never come, Maria. So get over your persecution complex and learn to be happy today.”

She’s staring at the floor, unresponsive, but I know she’s heard everything I’ve said. She’s not crying or really reacting in any way other than to look a little stunned. After a moment of silence, I reach over to the sink and wet a wash cloth. Sliding to my knees on the tile floor before her, I take her chin in my hand and lift her face. Her green eyes are wary, so I force myself to give her a kind look as I wipe her face off with the cloth. Then I drop my hand to her waist and remove the upset in her stomach.

I have just enough energy left to push myself to my feet and return to the couch. By the time I sink to the pillows, my limbs are shaking with exhaustion and the fracture in my nose is throbbing – I used what little power I had regained to cure Maria’s nausea and my nose is just going to have to wait. I cover my eyes with my hand and wait for the pain to subside.

Unaware of my alienness, Mae taught me a meditation technique to take away pain and I immerse myself in that. I concentrate only on my breath entering and leaving my body. I think of tranquil seas and cloudless skies. I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually my mediation is broken by another body on the couch.

Pulling back my blanket, Maria slides underneath, her body pressing tightly against mine. I put my arm around her to keep her from falling off the couch, then pull the blanket up to our shoulders. She lays her hand against my chest and her head on my shoulder. I don’t ask her anything – I’m done talking. I’m drained, so I close my eyes and think about sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, her voice humble.

The pre-drowning Max might have blown it off, but post-drowning Max is still a little cranky.

“Either you trust me or you don’t,” I tell her, looking down into her eyes. “It’s as simple as that.”

She swallows visibly. “I want to trust you.”

“What have I ever done to not deserve your trust?” I ask her. My body is starting to tense – I’m getting pissed again. I’m sure she can feel that.

“Nothing,” she says quietly, shaking her head.

“Then get over yourself,” I tell her brusquely, closing my eyes again.

There’s a long moment of silence. I crave sleep, but I’m never going to get it with this conflict hanging between us.

“Do you really want to marry me?” she asks cautiously.

I sigh. “No, Maria. I want our child to be born illegitimate. I want the woman I love to stay as far away from me as possible.”

“You’re angry.”

“Ya think?”

There’s another long pause, then she starts a sort of back and forth motion with her hand, caressing my chest. I look down at her, but her gaze has shifted to the movements of her fingers.

“Do you want this baby, Max?” she asks.

I nod, some of my anger subsiding. “Yeah. Do you?”

She looks up into my face, hers wanting to be hopeful. “I think so.”

My anger and disgust dissipate entirely as I pull her body close to mine. Reaching down, I place one palm against her still-flat belly.

“Then let’s work it out,” I tell her gently. “When I’m not exhausted and you’re not throwing up. Let’s talk through all of it and make it work.”

For the first time all day, she smiles and looks relieved. “Okay.”

As she tucks her head under my chin, I realize that I do indeed detect a small life under my hand. It brings a smile to my face.

“Maria, I was wrong,” I announce.

“About what?” she says, her voice muffled against my shirt.

“It’s not a him.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Twenty Three

I’ve decided there are three ways in which to awake. The first involves naturally rousing, refreshed and ready to start the day. The second way is to awake rudely, whether by alarm clock or a loud clap of thunder. The third is to awake suddenly with an overwhelming sense of What the fuck?! – something is definitely amiss, but your sleep-cluttered mind is unable to pinpoint it directly.

I wake according to the rules of option three. As I struggle to get a grip on what has just happened to me, I hear Maria’s soft giggle – I’m sure it’s at my expense. When I’ve cleared my head enough to have one foot back into the waking world, I realize that her hand is under my shirt and I know what caused the What the fuck?! She’s raking her nails across my nipple.

Before I can even ask her what the hell she’s doing, her mouth is over mine, kissing me gently at first and then more urgently. I choke back surprise at her sudden burst of forwardness and just go with it. Need and want and urgency push aside any thoughts I had of waking up slowly this morning. I flip over onto my back and pull her astride me, wanting her so badly that it hurts.

Wordlessly, she manages to wiggle out of her panties and tosses her nightgown behind the couch. I stare in wonder at her above me, totally nude, bathed in the amber glow of early morning sunlight. I reach up and hold her breasts and then slide my hands down to her belly. Right now, I think Maria may still have the waif-like body she had when she was sixteen. But soon her breasts and her belly will become rounder and I can’t wait for that to happen. I want to see her grow as she brings life to our child. I will love her regardless of how big she gets.

I’ve been so lost in considering the metamorphosis of her body that she totally takes me off guard as she slides onto me. I let out a groan, the feel of her welcoming and painfully beautiful. Then I just lie on my back and watch the show. As she moves, her skin begins to glisten with a light sheen of perspiration. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back; I catch a glimpse of a pulse beat in the hollow of her throat. Leaning back, she braces her hands on my knees, her motions increasing. I smooth her skin, from the outside of her thighs, over her hips, upward along her ribcage. Her body is warm and I see a flush appear on her upper chest. It won’t be long for her now. Reaching down, I grab her hips and quicken her motions. Only seconds later, I feel tremors race through her body and she lets out a little cry. She falls forward, lying prone against me. I feel her quick heartbeat against my chest, her labored breath across my arm. She only rests for a moment, though, because she knows I’m not done yet.

I watch in amazement as she resumes her position, her face flushed and damp from her release. Just seeing her so beautiful, so free puts me closer to the edge. Soon my breath is coming quickly and I feel blood racing through my veins at an unbelievable rate. I don’t even bother to think about baseball stats and my fourth grade class roster – I want this moment to come, I crave it.

Both of our voices echo in the apartment as we let go, me for the first time, she for her second. As she collapses onto me once again, I feel tingling in my fingers and toes and everything seems a bit fuzzy. She has absolutely drained me.

After several very long minutes of recovery, she kisses me gently, tenderly, her lips soft against mine.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her tone somewhat guilty, her fingers tracing my cheek.

Why should she be guilty? Until she mentioned it, I had totally forgotten that just yesterday I could barely walk on my own and now I’m doing this. I do a quick survey of my body and realize that I feel ten times better than I did when I left the hospital. I have to wonder if the doctors were actually making me sicker.

“I’m fine,” I smile at her, my breath still a little short. Okay, I’m not perfect yet – it’s taking longer to catch my breath than it usually does.

“I couldn’t help myself,” she says softly, kissing my neck. “You were just lying there, sleeping so peacefully, looking so unbelievably beautiful…”

Beautiful? I blink a couple of times. I’m not sure anyone has ever called me beautiful. A Chicago cop once called me pretty…not that that was a compliment.

“You are beautiful,” she says, her green eyes fixed on mine. “You’re beautiful in so many ways, Max.”

I take one of her springy curls in my fingers. “So are you,” I say, leaning in to kiss her. “You’re beautiful in every way.”

She smiles in return, like she actually believes me instead of only wanting to believe me. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her as tightly as I can, this wonderful person, the mother of my child.

We take a slow shower together, pausing a lot just to hold one another. We don’t have sex again – it’s more a time of tenderness and caring. I wash her hair, she makes an ill attempt at shaving me. We stay there, wrinkling like prunes, until the hot water runs out.

Clean, refreshed, we go to the wicker chairs by the bay window and try to address the things we still need to work out regarding our relationship and the baby. I’m glad we waiting until today to do this – last night was too soon, there were too many negative emotions in the air. Which Maria apparently realized.

“You were pretty harsh last night,” she says, her lips turned downward a bit.

“I’m sorry,” I reply. I was harsh, but I also felt like crap and I just didn’t know how to deal with her insecurities anymore.

“I’ve never seen that side to you before,” she says and I can’t read her emotions. When she smiles slightly, I’m surprised. “It was kind of hot.”

“Hot?”

She nods. “You were all manly and no-nonsense. Probably explains why I couldn’t keep my hands off you this morning.”

I snort a laugh. I hope she thinks I’m “manly” when I’m not pissed.

“Anyway,” she begins as she puts her coffee on window sill. “We’ve got some big decisions to make.”

I nod mutely, sip my cup.

Her green eyes are steady. “Now that it’s daylight and you’re not all wound up, were you serious about marrying me?” Only a slight twitch in one of her eyelids betrays her inner feelings.

I nod again. “Yes, I was serious about that.” I scratch my chin. “Did you ever answer me?”

She smiles. “Did you ever ask me?”

No, I guess I didn’t. I return her smile. “Yeah, I guess not. Well, I don’t have a ring or anything to do this properly –“

“Yes.”

I stop, interrupted, and take in her expression. I see something there that I haven’t seen in years – joy.

“Yes,” she repeats. “I’ll marry you, Max.”

My grin returns and I lean across to kiss her. “Thank you,” I whisper against her ear. “I love you, Maria.”

She gives me a hug. “I love you, too,” she says into my shoulder.

I take one of her hands in mine and sit back in my chair, my body pulsating with happiness.

“But we need to talk about something.” Her words threaten to squelch my elation.

“What’s that?” I ask carefully.

With her free hand, she picks up the pad on which I’d written all of the things I wanted to do with my life. “This.”

I eye it carefully.

“You can’t do these things with a pregnant wife,” she says dejectedly.

I release her hand and take the pad. On the first pages, I’d documented books and movies I wanted to read and see. “Sure I can,” I answer. “I mean, last time I checked, they still let pregnant women into movie theaters and libraries.”

She shakes her head, not taking the bait of my sense of humor. “I don’t mean that. I mean skiing in the Swiss Alps or mountain climbing in Tibet. A pregnant woman isn’t going to do those things.” She sighs. “And, truth be told, Max – I probably wouldn’t want to do those things if I weren’t pregnant.”

I nod in agreement – I knew that about her. “I know. But does that mean I can’t?”

Maria hesitates for a moment, considering her answer.

“If one day when Junior is older and you don’t need so much help taking care of her, if I decide I want to go to Europe for a week, are you going to try to stop me?” I challenge her. I feel like this is something we need to settle now and I can see that she’s not sure how to answer. “I will always come home to you, Maria,” I assure her. “And if there was ever something you wanted to do that I didn’t, I would just let you go. I trust you. The question is, do you trust me enough to let me go?”

Her eyes are fixed on mine, her expression serious. Trust has always been an issue for her. But then I see the acceptance in her eyes.

“Yes,” she says. “I would let you go.”

I feel like my smile is ten feet wide. I’m not saying that I will bail out every chance I get to go somewhere new, but I truly believe that she would let me go when I wanted to.

“But you better save some energy,” she warns. “Because too long without a little bit of what happened this morning is going to make me incredibly edgy.”

I laugh and reach over to touch her face affectionately.

“Where will we live?” she asks, on to the next question.

I shrug. “Where do you want to live?”

“Here.”

I look around the one-bedroom apartment. “Maria, it’s not going to be big enough for all of us…”

“No, Chicago.”

I nod. “Okay. But can we move out into the ‘burbs so Junior has a yard to play in?”

Maria laughs. “Quit calling her Junior. And, yes, we can move out to the suburbs if we can afford it.”

“Agreed,” I say. “Where do we get married?”

She grimaces. “I hate to say this…”

I raise my eyebrows. “Roswell?”

She nods. “Yeah. I mean, we can’t keep asking the families to come here every time something happens in our lives. Are you okay with that?”

I never planned on going back there, but I do have things to take care of. I have to clean out my apartment still. “It will be fine,” I tell her. “We’ll make it work.” A thought occurs to me and my brow furrows. “Maria, have you told your mother?”

She looks startled. “Shit, no! I think she believes I’m still a virgin! I figured I’d hit her with a one-two punch. ‘Mom, I’m getting married. By the way, I’m pregnant.’”

I laugh at her – late twenties and still afraid to let her mother know she has sex. I pick up her hand and caress the back of it.

“The next question is very important,” I tell her and watch her expression become serious. “What are we going to name her?”

Her eyes soften and she covers my hand with hers. “I was thinking of Alexandra Elizabeth.”

The simple beauty of that brings tears to my eyes. It's perfect.

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Twenty Four

Maria hates to fly.

I learn that little fact after we’re already in the air. The first indication comes when she grips my hand painfully during take off, her face turning ghostly white. The next hint comes when she grabs one of the air sickness bags and clutches it in her fist, just in case. Thank God she got the aisle seat in case she needs to bolt for the bathroom.

By the window sits a totally opposite personality. Mae has not stopped talking since we got on the plane…actually, she was already talking before we boarded the plane. She flips through her magazine, waving her hand and babbling away as though her friend wasn’t about to blow her breakfast in every direction. I look at her briefly when she smacks me on the arm to get my attention, but I soon look back to my nauseous fiancé.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

Maria closes her eyes in a slow blink, then nods her head in one short movement.

“Are you sure?” I lean a little closer to her. “I can uh, work the magic if you need me to.”

She turns a sick but affectionate smile my way. “If you could work your magic and make this plane move faster, I’d appreciate it. I’ll be okay once we get on the ground.”

I rub her arm sympathetically, then reach up and push the light to summon the flight attendant. In only a few moments, a pretty, red-haired girl stops at the end of our aisle. Mae stops talking – finally.

“What can I do for you?” the flight attendant asks, her eyes flitting briefly over Maria’s pale face.

“She’s pregnant,” I explain softly. “Do you have some soda crackers? Maybe some ginger ale?”

The woman gives a knowing nod and pats Maria on the arm. “Let me see what I can do.”

As she moves away, Maria turns a raised eyebrow in my direction. “Are you trying to make me vomit, Max?”

I shake my head. “No. I just thought that it might make you feel better.” I scratch my head. “Isn’t that what pregnant women eat when they’re nauseous?”

She shakes her head. “How should I know? I’ve never been pregnant before.”

Well, she has a point there. I turn to look at Mae, who is craning her neck in the direction that the flight attendant disappeared. I draw my eyebrows together at her sudden silence.

“That stewardess was hot, don’t ya think?” she asks me, still searching for the woman.

Is that question a trick? “Flight attendant,” I correct.

“Whatever. Did you see that gorgeous hair?”

There’s a tinge of excitement in her voice and I suddenly recall something from the night of mine and Maria’s accident – Maria had alluded to Mae entertaining both of her party guest after we left. Both of them – one male, one female. I’m getting the feeling Mae swings from both sides.

“I wonder if she’s a member of the mile-high club,” she muses.

I look at her wordlessly.

“What?” she asks. “Sex is sex – doesn’t matter where you get it from, Max.” Her pretty face lights up. “Speaking of which, I can’t wait to see your friend Michael. He likes to screw, doesn’t he?”

I can’t even find an answer for that. Poor Michael…

Maria appears not to have noticed Mae’s interested in the flight attendant or her comments about Michael. She’s still staring at the barf bag in her hand. A few moments later, the object of Mae’s attention returns with a glass of soda and a packet of crackers.

“I found these,” she says as she drops Maria’s tray table and sets down the items. “I hope they help.”

“Thanks,” Maria manages, though she looks like she’s going to gag.

“Hi there,” Mae pipes up. “Are the bathrooms at the rear of the plane?”

I look at her in disbelief – she’s flown all over the world and knows damned well where the bathrooms on a plane are located.

The flight attendant nods. “Yes. They were both vacant when I came back up.”

Mae breaks into a wide grin as she unclasps her seatbelt and starts to climb over me. How did I get stuck with the middle seat, anyway? I turn my head as Mae’s ass brushes past my face and I hear Maria sigh as she has to pick up the soda and crackers in order to lift the tray table to let her friend through. Once Mae and the attendant are gone, I put my arm around Maria’s shoulders and kiss the side of her head.

“I love you,” I whisper against her ear.

“Yeah, I love you too,” she says aloud, her voice sort of dejected. Then she gives a laugh. “I’ll love you more when we land.”

I tighten my grip and rub her shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine,” I assure her. “Pretty soon we’ll be landing, then it will be sunny and warm – unlike that snowy mess we left behind.”

She gives me a weak grin, then her gaze fixes somewhere in space. “Max, I want to go somewhere when we get to Roswell.”

“Okay. Just tell me where.”

She meets my eyes, hers cautious. “I want to go see Liz.”

Wow. I haven’t been to the cemetery since Liz died. I’ve avoided that place and all that it stands for.

“We don’t have to,” Maria says quickly. “I just wanted to say goodbye, since we won’t be living there.”

I manage to find my voice. “No, it’s okay. We can go there if you like. Maybe we’ll get some flowers or something.”

At that, she smiles sincerely. “I’d like that.”

Tired from her condition, she lays her head against my shoulder, and I lay my cheek against her hair. I pray for a quick flight and a safe landing. I pray for my fiancé to hold down her breakfast.

Mae disappears for most of the flight, although I catch her laugh every now and then and guess that she’s at the rear of the plane chatting up the flight attendants. She’s such a bizarre creature, that one. But she’s got a good soul and a loving heart; when Maria asked her to be her maid of honor, there was no hesitation on Mae’s part. She’d agreed willingly and even helped Maria pick out her dress.

As for my best man, I don’t have one. After much discussion, Maria and I decided that having Michael stand up for us would be a bit awkward. Yes, it’s true that he and Maria have been through for many years now, but there is so much history there that it just felt…wrong. Instead of a best man, I have a best woman – my attendant is Isabel. I know that’s unconventional, but nothing about this marriage is conventional – my fiancé was my first wife’s best friend, her maid of honor is as far out in the cosmos as one can get, we’re pregnant and one of us is an alien. I don’t think people would bat an eye at my sister being a groom’s person if they knew all of the facts.

“Maria,” I say softly, testing to see if she’s still awake.

“Hm?”

“Did you ever sleep with Mae?”

My body fills with joy as she laughs for the first time since we got on this plane.

The landing in Albuquerque is flawless and smooth; some of the color returns to Maria’s face. As soon as we step off the plane, I breathe in all of the familiar smells of a desert climate. Even though I don’t ever want to live here again, those scents will always mean home to me. I put my arm around Maria’s shoulders and lead her down the jetway, Mae in tow.

When we reach the concourse, my eyes settle on Michael immediately. He almost looks like he’s smiling. I give him a manly hug and shake his hand. His hug to Maria is quick and awkward, like that of a couple of third-graders. But neither of them looks unhappy to see the other. In fact, Michael looks happy until his eyes settle on Mae – then he just looks petrified.

“I remember you!” Mae says, stepping forward to give him a huge hug. Over her shoulder, Michael looks like he wants someone to shoot him.

The agony doesn’t stop there. After we claim our bags, we go out to Michael’s SUV, upon which time Mae claims the front seat.

“You two sit in the back,” she says to me and Maria. “I want to sit up here by my new friend Michael.”

Maria snickers under her breath as Michael resumes the deer in the headlights look.

Soon we’re on the road, moving southwest, toward Roswell. I watch the scenery go by and for one moment I’m happy I’m looking at sand and rock instead of snow. Maria takes my hand in hers as we ride, her face turned out her side of the SUV. It’s so quiet and peaceful. I feel so calm…

That is, until Mae speaks, her words directed right at Michael. “You’ve got really beautiful lips,” she announces.

Michael glances at her, blinks once, then turns his attention to the road without uttering a single word.

*****

Before I left for Chicago, I never would have ventured into Roswell’s neatly-kept cemetery. Sometimes just driving past it would make me break out into a cold sweat. But today, with Maria holding my hand, I’m not afraid to enter there.

We find Alex’s grave first. It seems like such a long time ago that we put him here and when I glance at the dates on the tombstone, I realize that it was a long time ago – Alex has been dead twice as long as Liz has. His grave is neatly kept, the only son of the Whitmans. I give Maria’s hand a little squeeze. Looking up, she gives me a smile then takes some of the flowers from my other hand. Squatting, she places the flowers against the tombstone, then touches the granite with her fingers.

“What’s up, dude?” she asks playfully. “Look at me – I got knocked up.”

I smile at that and imagine what that conversation may have been like – I’m sure Alex would have come up with about a half dozen sensible solutions to her predicament. I now Maria misses him, and so do I.

She lingers there for a few moments, then pushes herself to her feet and we continue to walk through the cemetery. We’re not in a hurry, but I’m also not dreading our destination. When we come to it, I vaguely remember standing here once before, hushed voices all around me.

The stone is new – it must have been laid within a few months of Liz’s death. I must admit that seeing my name etched in stone isn’t a comforting thing. Before I can immerse myself in the fatality of that, Maria’s voice breaks me from the thought.

“Where would I be?” she asks, looking somewhat lost.

At first I don’t understand her, but then I realize that she’s saying Liz and I will be buried side by side someday and she’s uncertain where her place is. But I know where her place is – it will always be with us.

“There,” I answer, pointing to the left of the stone, to the plot beside mine. “Or there.” I then point to the other side of Liz. “You can be wherever you want to be, Maria.”

She turns a smile to me, then starts rummaging in her bag. I watch her curiously until she pulls out a candle; I recognize it immediately as the one she used to light on her mantle every night.

“What’s that?” I ask.

She gives a shrug. “I thought it was time to let go a bit,” she confesses, setting the glass jar atop the headstone. “I want to light this and leave it here.”

I reach over and rub her arm. “That’s nice, Maria.”

She digs in her bag for what seems like an eternity, then turns a sad face in my direction. “I don’t have any matches.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. Stepping forward, I lay the rest of the flowers at the foot of the stone. Then I reach into the jar and click my fingers. The candle jumps to life immediately.

Maria comes to stand beside me, wraps her arm around my waist. In return, I loop mine over her shoulders.

“She was too young,” I say sadly.

With her free hand, Maria smoothes my chest. “She was. But in the time she did have, Max, you gave her a wonderful life.”

I bite back a few tears at the thought of Liz being so free, so in love with just being alive.

“She was always happy,” Maria continues, her voice full of affection for both me and Liz. “She loved her life.”

When I look down into her face, she’s smiling widely.

“And I know I’m going to love my new life as well. Come on,” she urges. “Let’s go get married.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Well, thanks to my jackass neighbors, I was up at 6 am this morning and got to finish this :mad: *sigh* Anyway, I lied - the wedding will happen in the next part. I will comment on comments later.


Part Twenty Five

She comes to me in a dream while Maria and I lay sleeping together in my old apartment. The vision feels real, and yet I know that I’m asleep. Her cheeks are flushed and pink, her eyes bright and healthy. She touches my face with her soft fingers, and her message floats wordlessly into my brain.

It’s time to let go. It’s time to live my earthly life to its fullest. I have more life to create – sons and daughters. This life is short, not intended to last forever. But the next life will last an eternity. When I get to that life, I will be met with love and understanding. Maria will be met with love and understanding as well.

She gives me her blessing, then fades away.

I awake calmly, my eyes settling on the ceiling. It’s the day before our wedding.

Beside me, Maria is on her side, facing me, sound asleep. I roll onto my side and watch her for a few long minutes, memories of my dream already slipping from my conscious mind. Before they are completely gone however, I remember Maria’s words as she approached me at the hotel in Oak Brook – some dream had sent her there to work things out with me. At the time, I had thought maybe Isabel had been the culprit. Now I know that wasn’t so.

I know that Liz has gently pushed us together.

Trying not to disturb my sleeping fiancé, I give her a light kiss on the check then slip from the bed. In the hallway closet, I find Grandma Claudia’s cedar chest, packed with Liz’s earthly belongings. It’s time to let go of these things. Sitting Indian-style on the floor, I pull open the lid of the chest, the scent of cedar filling my nose. I survey the contents briefly, then start sorting it into piles – things to give her family, things to give to charity, things to throw away, a small pile of things to keep.

“What are you doing?” Maria asks sleepily from behind me.

I turn to look at her as she yawns, scratching her belly – her body is already starting to expand to make room for our baby.

“Sorting this stuff,” I say. I motion to boxes that line the hallway; I have already packed many of my belongings for shipment to Chicago. “I didn’t think we’d want to haul it halfway across the country.”

“What are you going to do with it?” she asks, sitting down beside me with a thud.

One corner of my mouth lifts upward at her total disregard for her hind end. “I thought it was time to give most of it away,” I answer, watching her for any negative reaction. I see none.

“You mean like to Goodwill or something?”

I nod. “If there’s something you want to keep, we can. Otherwise I think we should let it go.”

Her eyes are soft as she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. Then the two of us unpack the trunk we packed together five years ago. When all is said and done, we keep only our wedding pictures and Liz’s journal.

We return the cedar trunk to the Parkers. After all, it is their family heirloom, not mine. Mr. Parker still looks a little lost and Mrs. Parker seems to have aged ten years in five. They’re happy to see us and give us sincere congratulations on our impending matrimony and parenthood. Seeing them is awkward, but it also heals a small sore spot on my soul. When we leave, I don’t regret having gone there.

We meet Mae downstairs in the Crashdown. She looks very touristy and out of place for small-town Roswell. She’s very classy and uptown in appearance and she sticks out like a sore thumb. Maria and I slide into the booth across from her.

“Did you check out the menus?” Mae spouts, nearly breaking into hysterics.

Maria snorts. “I used to work here. Max used to live here. Would you like an order of Saturn rings with that Will Smith burger, ma’am?” Her voice is perfect waitress-toned.

Mae laughs.

“No, I’d just like a blood of alien Smoothie,” I answer, giving Maria a grin.

“Ugh!” Mae protests. “Who came up with these names?”

“Liz’s dad,” Maria says, waving her off with a hand. “So, got your dress?”

“Yep, all fitted and everything.” Mae’s dark eyes turn to me. “Man, your sister sure works fast – I just gave her that dress last night and it was perfectly altered already this morning.”

“Yep, she’s fast,” I say, then hide my grin behind my coffee cup. If only Mae knew why my sister was so fast…

“So, I’ve had nothing to do,” she complains half-heartedly. “I went to that freaky UFO Museum but it was just a little weird for my taste.”

I blink once, silently. I wonder if Mae realizes that people think she’s a little weird…and if she thinks the UFO Center is weird, then it must really be out there.

She draws in a breath. “So then I went looking for company. I tried to find that stud Michael. Couldn’t find him anywhere. I’m guessing he doesn’t work in a public place?”

“He’s a brick layer,” I say.

“Well, I’ve got something he could lay,” Mae mutters under her breath as she studies the menu.

I look at Maria, who is looking at Mae like she’s insane. I can’t help but laugh. In my mind, I picture Michael hiding out wherever he can to avoid Mae’s affections. Too bad Roswell is such a small burg – not too many places to hide. Maybe he needs to brick himself into a wall or something.

“So, we have things to discuss,” Maria says, trying to get Mae’s attention. When that doesn’t happen, Maria raps her knuckles on that table. “Miss Xen, look at me.”

Mae lifts her head, her eyebrows raised.

“Tomorrow Max and I are getting married. Tomorrow I can’t see him until the wedding, so I’ll need to stay with you.”

Mae shrugs. “Okay. Maybe we could do something bachelorette-partyish, go see strippers or something…”

Maria grimaces. “Okay, let me explain something to you. This is Roswell. You don’t want to see any of these people take their clothes off. Okay?”

Mae bites one corner of her lip, her eyes drifting to the counter. “That’s not true. I’d like to see that guy with his clothes off. Who is he?”

Maria and I both follow her line of sight and Maria gives a gasp of semi-disgust and rolls her eyes.

“That’s Kyle Valenti,” she explains. “The sheriff’s son.”

Mae’s eyes widen a bit. “Second-generation law man, huh? I’ll bet he’s good with that billy club…” She turns her head sideways, studying Kyle as he eats his breakfast. When she speaks again, her voice has an air of sadness. “There’s loneliness in his movements. I’m going over to talk to him.”

She’s gone before either Maria or I can stop her. I look at Maria, my laugh unstoppable.

“Is she always –“ I begin.

“Yes.” Maria sighs. “Okay, so I’ll stay with Mae tonight. What are you going to do?”

I put my arm around her shoulders and kiss the side of her head. “Stay home and miss you. Sit around and count the hours until you’re mine.”

She smiles and puts her hand on my thigh. “I’m already yours.”

“Not officially,” I say, kissing her ear. A little tremor runs through her body.

“Okay, Mr. Evans. You have to stop that.”

I pull back a bit and look at her, amused. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to have to drag you into one of the many make out spots Liz and I discovered in the restaurant and maul you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

She laughs and pats my leg. “Yes. Save it up for tomorrow night.” Her face falls serious as she looks into my eyes. “I want tomorrow to be special.”

I give her a gentle smile and kiss her on the forehead. “It will be,” I promise her. “It will be.”

* * * * *

My last night of bachelorhood. Michael offered to take me out, to drive somewhere to find a strip club or something, but I’m not interested. Instead, we rent movies – all manly things like The Terminator and Robo Cop – and crash on my couch. It’s been awhile since the two of us hung out together and it starts to sink in for the first time that to leave Roswell behind is to leave Michael behind as well.

“You know,” I say, plopping a slice of pizza onto a paper plate. “You can come to Chicago any time.”

He chews his dinner, gives a nod of understanding.

“I mean, I want us to still be friends,” I clarify. “I know it’s gotta seem weird with me marrying Maria and all, then to just move away…”

“Max,” Michael says, his brow furrowed. “Are you dumping me?”

Momentarily thrown, I stare at him for a second, then laugh.

“Don’t be so serious,” he chides, claiming another piece of pepperoni. “It’s all cool.”

I know that’s all he’s going to say because he’s Michael and it’s not like Michael to expound on anything. But I know what he means by those few words – he and I will always be brothers, regardless of whom we marry or where we go. I accept that for what it is and give him a grateful smile before returning to my pizza.

“That girl,” he says around a mouthful of food. “What’s her name?”

Inside, I start to laugh uncontrollably. “You mean Mae?”

He nods. “Yes, what is up with her? Seriously, dude. What the fuck is with that woman?”

The internal laugh burst forward. “She’s just Mae, Michael. She’s harmless.”

“I think she’s stalking me.”

I nod. “Of course she is. Just not for the reasons you think.” When I look at him, I see that paranoia has taken over his whole being. “Look, she’s a very nice person.”

“She’s a bit freaky, Max.” Michael’s eyes are still round.

“Only in the good way,” I tell him, winking.

He stops chewing for a second, then his eyebrows lift. I knew eventually he’d consider her attention as not such a bad thing.

“Maria set me up with her when I first went to Chicago,” I explain.

The eyebrows travel a little higher. “And, did you-?”

I laugh. “No. But the opportunity was there.”

“And you didn’t take it?! Christ, Max! She’s hot!”

I say nothing as Michael realizes what he has just said. She has gone from stalker to freaky to hot within a minute. His cheeks flush slightly. Uh huh – so maybe Mae isn’t so out of his league after all.

Michael clears his throat. “Shut up and start the movie,” he demands.

I laughingly oblige.

I don’t see much of the films. I’m too intent on thinking about what tomorrow brings. I’m not nervous, my feet aren’t cold. There are no second-thoughts. I’m looking forward to my second marriage with much anticipation. Because tomorrow I know the healing will be complete.

tbc

~~~~~~~~~~~~

One more part to go, Merry Musketeers

[Midwest Max]

Epilogue

Our wedding day falls on Christmas Eve. As I stand in the empty church, I muse how ironic it is that Maria picked this day to get married to someone who doesn’t really believe in God. It was important to her, however, so I agreed with her request. The sanctuary is small, more intimate than the setting of my first wedding. And that’s perfectly okay, because this day will never be compared to that one.

Maria’s mom has taken care of all of the flower arrangements. She’s still in the church, adjusting pots of red, pink and white poinsettias. With such a short time period to prepare, she’s done a wonderful job. She stands, placing a hand on her hip and surveys her work. Then she turns, almost as though she senses my presence at the back of the church.

“Oh, Max,” she says. “Come here for a moment.”

Oh, this can’t be good. I swallow down my cowardice and walk to the front of the church. As I come to the front pew, I drape the dry cleaner bag containing my tuxedo over the back of the bench.

“Morning, Mrs. Deluca,” I mumble, shoving my hands in my pockets. In my head, my confession runs rampant – Yes, Ma’am, I was irresponsible and knocked up your daughter.

“It’s a big day for you, Max,” she begins and I can’t read her tone. I nod dumbly. “It’s a big day for Maria, too.” I nod again. Her voice becomes somewhat menacing. “You make it a good one.”

“I will,” I say quickly. I have no intention of this not being a good day for both of us.

Mrs. Deluca steps a little closer, her eyes fixed firmly on mine. “And I will say this only once, Max Evans. If you do anything to hurt her – anything at all – I will make is so that you will never father another child. Do you understand me?”

I nod quickly – I believe her totally.

“Good,” she says, her smile returning. “We understand one another then.” She turns to look at her arrangements. “What do you think?”

I swallow. “It looks good, Ma’am.”

She turns to me with a humored grin on her face. “No, don’t call me Ma’am. We’re family now, Max.”

I watch her as she walks away and I’m suddenly very happy to be moving several thousand miles away. Yipes! I’m not sure even the Ramons of the world stand a chance against that woman.

I retreat to one of the Sunday school rooms to get ready. I’m halfway dressed when my cell phone rings.

“Hey you,” Maria’s voice resonates from the other end.

“Hey!” I reply. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk to you today.”

“No, you’re not supposed to see me. Talking is okay. How are you?”

“Well, your mom just threatened to castrate me.” I look around for my other sock, plop onto a chair to pull it on.

“Good – at least she got that out of the way,” Maria laughs. “Don’t worry about her – she’s harmless.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t threatened with sterilization.”

She laughs lightly, then her giggle fades away. “I love you, Max.”

I stop struggling with my sock, lost in the sound of her voice. “I love you, too, Maria.” I sigh happily. “Go get ready,” I command her. “I want to get married to you as soon as possible.”

“And I want that honeymoon to start as soon as possible,” she laughs as she hangs up.

Our honeymoon will consist of a few nights in Vegas. With Maria being pregnant and nauseous half the time, we decided to wait until after the baby is born to take a trip to Hawaii or something. For now, Vegas is fine.

Isabel appears at the door, knocking tentatively. I tell her to come in and when she does, she looks absolutely stunning. She’s wearing an emerald green brocade dress, her hair pulled atop her head, loose curls dangling around her face. But it’s not only her external beauty that is shining through – Isabel is happy for the first time in a very long time. She introduced me to Stephan the pharmacist a few nights ago and I think he’s one of the good guys. If he can make my sister beam like she is now, I know he’s one of the good guys.

“You look great,” I tell her, kissing her cheek.

“You look cold,” she retorts, glancing at my boxer shorts. “Put some pants on – people are already starting to fill the church and it’s unholy to be in your underwear in a house of God.”

I finish getting ready. Isabel has to help me with the bow tie – I will never be able to tie one of those. After it is fixed, she pulls me close to her and gives me a tight hug.

“I’m so happy for you, Max,” she says into my shoulder and I can practically read her thoughts. She never thought I’d be this healthy again. She was waiting for me to give up on life entirely, and now here I am ready to move ahead and put some of the pain behind me. To her, the impossible has happened.

So I hug her in return and thank her. Without Isabel’s kindness over the last five years, I’m not sure I’d be standing here today.

When we walk into the church, I see that the gathering is small but intimate – just the way Maria wanted it. I smile at my parents sitting proudly in the front pew. Mom is already crying. Michael is seated a row behind them, looking uncomfortable in his dark suit. I look across the aisle at Mrs. Deluca – who is sitting with the sheriff – and try not to look petrified. But she’s looking at me kindly in light of her threats to maim me this morning.

The processional music starts and I felt a little jolt inside of my stomach. It’s not nervousness – it’s excitement. I can’t wait to see her, to see her beautiful face on her wedding day. I can’t help the grin that jumps to my lips.

Mae enters first to a few murmured comments – her beauty will always draw peoples’ attention. She’s wearing a dress identical to Isabel’s, only hers is a deep burgundy. She’s left her hair loose and has curled it so that it hangs in long waves around her shoulders. Her smile is sweet as she slowly walks to the altar, a bouquet of red and white flowers in her hands. I give her a grin and she winks in return before taking her place.

The music kicks up a notch and so do the butterflies in my stomach. The people in the congregation take their feet, their heads turning toward the entrance. In only moments, I see her on the arm of Mr. Whitman; fatherless, she had asked Alex’s father to give her away. He’d been touched by her request and had readily agreed. But it’s not Mr. Whitman I care about at this point.

She’s so beautiful that she brings tears to my eyes. Her dress is ivory instead of white, and it hugs her body in all of the right places. The gown is strapless and lightly beaded in a delicate pattern that diminishes as it reaches the floor. Maria’s hair is pulled into a twist with tiny white flowers inserted into it. She wears no veil, so I can clearly see her eyes as she approaches the altar. I see so much love there that my heart aches.

I’m sure she’s wondering why I’m already crying.

As Mr. Whitman brings her hand to mine, he smiles and claps me gently on the back. I’m sure he’s wondering why I’m crying as well.

“Who gives this woman in marriage?” the preacher asks.

“Her mother and I do,” Mr. Whitman answers, then backs away and takes his seat beside Maria’s mom and the sheriff.

Those are the last words I fully hear. All I can concentrate on is the feel of Maria’s hand in mine, the light rustle of her dress as she moves and the soft scent of her perfume drifting to my nose. I’m simply drunk with her very presence. I guess I manage to repeat my vows because there’s a shiny new ring on my finger and the next words I comprehend are the ones I’ve been waiting for since I saw her.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Gladly. I sweep her into me with one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders. “Church kiss” be damned – I kiss her the way I want to. There will be no chaste little peck on the lips. I devour her; a startled gasp dies in her throat, then she’s laughing. So is everyone else.

Yep. The ears turn bright red. I turn to look at the preacher, who is chuckling good-naturedly.

“Congratulations, son,” he says quietly. It must be apparent to him how happy I am to be married to this woman. To the congregation, he says, “I present to you - Mr. and Mrs. Max Evans.”

As we retreat down the aisle, everyone claps. Mom wipes her eyes. Michael looks stricken when Mae winks and waves at him.

All I want is to start my new life, with my new bride. But I know that this will be her only wedding day, so I endure all of the formalities, all of the reception lines and congratulations. At the hall, we greet people at the door, relatives we haven’t seen in years, friends we’ve loved for all of our lives. We sit at our small wedding party table, just the four of us, a closely knit bunch. Under the table, I keep Maria’s hand clasped in mine, constantly reassuring her that I’m not going anywhere.

After the toasts have been given and the music starts, Mae jumps from her seat and marches straight over to the table where Michael is sitting with my parents. Maria and I watch her go; I have to think our expressions are identical. Michael looks terrified as Mae stops before him, her height imposing. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but then she holds out her hand and he nods weakly as he takes it.

“That’s our cue,” I tell Maria.

“For what?” she asks.

“We can’t leave Michael out there alone on the dance floor with Mae.”

Maria laughs and lets me lead her to the dance floor. I deliberately pull to a stop close to where Mae and Michael are dancing awkwardly – if he needs me to get his back, I will.

“I’m, uh, not really good at dancing,” I hear him say.

“That’s okay,” Mae answers, her voice chipper. “It’s not dancing I’m interested in anyway – at least not the vertical kind.”

I spin Maria around so I can see Michael’s face. He looks oddly petrified and interested at the same time. Of course, he’s speechless.

“You have wonderful hair,” Mae adds.

I snort a little laugh. Michael has indeed met his match.

“What are you laughing at?” Maria asks as she looks up at me.

“Them,” I say, gesturing toward the couple with my chin. But staring down into her green eyes, I forget all about my best friend and his aggressive dance partner. I lean in to kiss her, less sexually than I did at the church, then pull her close to me. I rest my cheek against hers and just revel in her presence.

My mind wanders over the last few months and how things have changed. Maria has filled a void inside of me that I thought would remain forever vacant. I feel loved and I can love her in return. Inside of her body, our baby is growing more every day, a little girl we will name after our fallen friends.

As I hold her close to me, instead of thinking about what we are I think about all of the things we are not.

I’m not the man who gave up on life five years ago. I’m not the man who unjustly hated his sister for many years. I’m not the man who wanted to kill himself in order to dull the pain inside of his heart.

As for Maria, she’s not the person Ramon used to beat on a regular basis. She’s not my first wife’s best friend. She’s not the wounded little girl who fled Roswell, leaving behind the thought that she could ever love again.

She’s none of those things. She’s kind and warm and able to love without inhibition. Her soul is whole once again.

She is, simply, my beloved wife.

THE END

~~~~~~~~~~

It's over...

Now I have separation anxiety I will post comments later. Right now I need to go take a nap. Effin neighbors... :mad: