Wow

I'm so happy you like it so far - really it's making me blush.
Thank you
Alizaleven, Emz80m, polar vixen, and Flamehair.
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Part 1</center>
“I hate this,” Maria whined. She held a champagne glass in her hand and though she held it delicately, she was wiping it furiously. She wiped it so hard that I eyed it carefully – it looked as if she might break it. “I mean, we’re here on a Saturday night, for a party we cannot attend,” she was pouting then, and she let out an exasperated breath of air as she pushed the glass under the counter.
“I think we should call it working,” I reminded her. I brushed a few stray strands behind my ear, and reached to pick up the tray of hors d'oeuvres. "Besides," I continued, "we were lucky to even find this job on short notice. And we’re only temping for tonight."
I looked at her satisfied when I saw she had no reply. She looked back at me frowning, and as I left the kitchen, I heard her snort a minute too late, "Yeah, but I wonder who didn't show up!"
We were lucky, I reminded myself as I glided through the crowd.
I was lucky. Three jobs in the past six months let me go, and I was thankful that this opportunity had opened up. It wasn’t anything permanent – we were only temping for a catering company that needed two people to cover tonight’s party. I met with the manager on Monday, and he told me that there was only an opening if I could bring a reliable friend to work with me. Maria had certainly whined and protested when I told her yesterday, but eventually she relented. She always does what I ask her for something, but I think she likes to put up a tough front so I won’t always ask her. I sigh inwardly as I glide through the crowd, pausing to pass out some hors d’oeuvres. . . Soon I can’t turn to Maria. In six months, I’m starting over if everything goes according to the plan. And you always have to have a plan.
I had been working for the past year and a half. Mostly I took up small jobs, but they've also been ones that paid enough to cover the bulk of the rent and the expenses. Then I would save the excess in my savings account. And expenses didn’t take up a huge chunk of my money. I would buy enough groceries to make the fridge look well stocked, and that wasn’t hard to do. I didn’t eat breakfast, and usually lunch at school covered me for the day. Sometimes if the budget allowed, I made dinner, but that was usually once a week. I had already saved six grand, and if I had kept going at the rate I was from the last month, I would have been ready in June to leave Roswell. It wasn’t looking that way anymore though. I had lost my part-time job the week before.
It was a cashier job at a boutique one town over, and the pay was good. The shift started at four, and I had an hour from when school ended at three to take the bus over. I pulled in ten percent from the sales I rang up, and the hourly wage was a seventy-five percent bump on minimum wage. There really weren’t any problems with the job – the hours were negotiable, the coworkers were friendly, and the customers were easy to help.
Science club got in the way though. Science club ended at four-thirty on Wednesdays, and the shift started at four. The first few weeks I made excuses to leave from science club early, but without that extra hour, I was always late. I even tried rotating which one I would flake on when my shift overlapped with the club, but last week the boss pulled me aside and so did Mrs. O’Donnell, the science club faculty member; they were both concerned. The weight of someone else’s concern was a little too much and I didn’t want to worry them – I didn’t really want to be noticed. The only reason high school was bearable was because I wasn’t noticed.
I had to pick though, and I had to make science club the priority. Mrs. O'Donnell sat me down; she was worried that I was leaving so many of the meetings early. I wanted so badly to tell her right there and then, but I felt I couldn't. I only looked back at her and nodded, agreeing that I would try to make better attendance.
The boss didn't given me any leeway when I explained and he simply said, "Take it or leave it, but please don't waste my time." It was a hard decision because the money I pulled in from the sales I got, I really needed. Money wasn’t such a burden that month, and the shift alone was four times as much as at the funeral parlor I tried the month before. I shuddered as I gave another plate of mushrooms to one of the guests; that was definitely a creepy job. After one hour of staying late to lock up, I was ready to bolt and never look back.
This job wasn't too bad. I really liked the catering company, and the manager had even promised Maria and me that we could take home our pick of the leftovers. The job itself was waitressing mostly, but Maria and I found time to help the chef make cannolis. I was having fun that night. It was almost tolerable then to have stretches like this where I was on my feet for twenty minutes. I shot a quick smile at Maria over my shoulder when I saw her scowling at the back of a man who had come for a napkin. She met my smile and feigned fatigue by placing her hand over her forehead. She's a doll, I thought, a great friend, and I remembered thinking at least one thing was good in my life.
I moved like a cat between the businessmen and their wives, keeping a hint of a smile on my face. The manager John told Maria and me that if we kept smiling, the guests would remember that the servers had been friendly. The guests seemed to like the crab cakes with the sautéed onions and melted mozzarella because after doing the room twice, there were only two left on the tray.
I noticed the curtain by the back doors swaying as if a breeze were pushing them. I frowned because it was cold out, and the guests were dressed in their finest – rich lavish European dresses and tuxedoes. It was a party to celebrate. The guests were laughing loudly, and the men were either smoking cigars or shaking each other’s hands excitedly. A fire as roasting in the middle of the room and it lit the room with a soft warm glow. If everyone looked lively before the firelight, he looked enchanting under the moonlight. The thought did cross my mind that it was weird that he was sitting outside on a bench all alone, but I decided to push my questions aside.
I pushed aside the curtain and stepped onto the terrace too. There was a small stone path leading to his bench in an alcove of trees and rosebushes. The leaves were gone, but some petals remained scattered on the ground. “Would you like some?” I asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I added when he turned suddenly from the view to look at me.
“Sure,” he said, and I went closer to him.
“Max, right?”
He looked up at me startled again, and he frowned, “How do you –”
“We go to West Roswell together,” I interrupt, and I watch as the frown disappears into an easy smile. It’s his trademark smile. How many times have I seen him smile like that with the current girlfriend he’s going with? It’s a convincing smile too, and probably easy to misinterpret. I was determined though not to fall for him so I only brought the tray closer.
“Right, I think I’ve seen you around,” he said.
That’s definitely a lie. Max Evans and I do not travel in the same circles, but I could see we were playing a little game there so I agreed, “Yeah, probably.”
He reached his hand out to pick a crab cake and I could see him scrutinizing each one carefully, and I said, “They’re all the same.”
“No, they’re not. I want one with more mozzarella,” he replied.
“You’re so picky,” I laughed, and he frowned back at me. I waited a few more seconds as he selected the “perfect” one, then he took a bite and smiled widely, “Yeah, this one’s perfect.”
I smiled, and I was about to go back inside to refill the tray and continue my round when he asked, “Do you have a minute?”
I looked over my shoulder at the window that showed the inside of the house, and from as far as I could see, it didn't look like I was needed. All of the guests were still laughing and talking. I couldn’t see Maria but I figured it was around my break anyway, and instead of answering, I sat down on the bench beside him, and held the empty tray between my legs.
The party was at the president’s house in his sitting room, but from the terrace, we could see the rest of Roswell. The house sat on a hill, and the town spread out below us like a fan. I could see all of the shining lights, each separated by a few inches from another, and it was a gorgeous view.
“I like seeing it like this.”
“What?” I asked uncertainly. I was curious as to what he likes to see. Max has never struck me as a deep person with deep thoughts, or maybe I’m shallow for thinking that. And I almost regret that I asked and start blushing when he looked back at me, “I like seeing the city like this. It doesn’t look like this down there when we’re living in it.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Living it is a lot harder than seeing it.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in there,” I gestured to the scene behind us; it was getting louder inside as the minutes passed. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?”
“What’s there to celebrate?”
I didn’t answer, but I wanted to. In so few words he has hit upon the heart of something – what is there to celebrate. I didn’t have the ideal life or situation right now, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I was happy. There was always something to worry about….If it wasn't bills, it was my father coming in late at night from the bar, or homework I should have finished but was too overwhelmed by everything else to even start. I didn’t even have time for myself because everything I did was out of necessity. So no, there wasn’t anything to celebrate.
Besides this was Max Evans I was sitting with. He’s the son of Philip Evans who signed a contract to merge his railroad company with a more successful company. In exactly five minutes, they were going to countdown to the most powerful merger in the southwest in ten years. In five minutes, Max Evans wouldn’t be the son of a powerful businessman - he would be the son of a multi-millionaire. I knew all of this and he probably did too…we have nothing in common, and I answered, “You’ve got something to celebrate.”
“Then if I do, you do too,” he said, trying to joke with me, and probably even make me smile. I knew Max likes to joke around because I had been in enough of his classes to know that it’s his way of avoiding dealing with something straightforwardly. I was firm though and I repeated, “You’ve got something to celebrate.”
“Lizzie, where are you?” It’s Maria of course, and I stood from the bench and step out of the alcove to meet her. “Oh, there you are,” she said relieved.
“Were you looking for me long?” I asked, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Umm,” she paused and she stared. When Max stepped out of the alcove too, she’s even smiling and she looks somewhat surprised to see him. I know Maria so well, and I can see what she’s thinking as her eyes flit between us. When she’s finally done, she catches me glaring. “Oh, umm, John said we don’t have to stay for the countdown. We’re done for the night.”
“Finally,” I said smiling.
“Do you want any cannolis?” she asks.
“Yeah, get three for me?” I ask and she nods. I’m holding her wrist, and gently pushing her back to the door. This time she gets the hint, and said, “Bye, Max.”
He nodded in her direction as a goodbye, and I could feel his eyes watching me even before I turned around to meet them with my own. He was staring a hole into my back. “So, I guess you’re heading out?”
“Yeah,” I said and I head back into the alcove to pick up the tray. “This really isn’t my sort of thing.”
“What – you don’t do parties?”
“No, but I um, have fun.” I stepped back out to him, and I’m even blushing as I explain myself.
He laughs when he sees my face bright red. “I’ve never heard anyone said that before. It’s either you have fun or you don’t.”
“I –” Great, I’m stuttering now. I look back at him and I see he’s smiling like a fool. I really want to wipe that smile off his face because he thinks that he’s gotten me. Why does he feel like he knows me so well though? It’s unnerving. “I do,” I answer more firmly. I have the tray in my hand and there’s nothing left for me to do than to leave, but for whatever reason my legs aren’t moving. I feel like staying.
“I do have fun,” I repeat.
“I never said you didn’t,” he said.
I can hear them counting down inside, and I hear the men’s voices carrying louder as they start with ten.
He’s staring out at Roswell again, and from where I’m standing, I decide the unreadable expression from before isn’t boredom. In fact it’s a lot like the one I have all the time…like you’re lost and hurt, and you feel like there’s no way to fix how you feel. It’s a look of helplessness. I’m staring in his direction, but more accurately, I’m staring at a part of the gate while I’m thinking of Max. When I look back at him, he’s smiling up at the sky. “It’s snowing.”
This time I smile too, “Yeah it is.” The flakes are small and soft, and they cascade down randomly, without pattern. I start catching some in my hand; I can’t help that the snow makes me feel like a child every time I see it. I hear him laughing too as we both enjoy the feel of the snow showering down on us. Inside the house, they’ve counted down to one and we hear everyone scream and cheer. They’re so excited inside the house, and here I am with Max Evans, and for the first time in years, I feel happy too.
Once the cheering subsides, they turned the music up louder. I stop in front of Max, and I giggle, “They’re cranking the music now. It won’t be long before they pull out the tequilla.”
“And then it’ll be a real party,” Max adds.
I nod smiling, “That would be an interesting sight. It’s late though,” I sigh. I didn’t want to go, but I thought I had to. I thought I couldn’t step outside of all of my problems and worries – there were a ton of things to do at home that night, the next and the nights that would follow. My life was like a cycle, filled with things to do that I could never neglect. I really didn’t have time for fun. “Bye, Max.”
I started walking back to the door, and when my hand touched the handle to pull it open, I heard him whisper, “Bye, Lizzie.” I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hear it, and I surprised him when I turned around, “You can call me Liz.”
“Liz,” he said back, getting used to it. “Bye, Liz.” I smiled and opened the door to go back inside. It was late and I needed to head home; work couldn’t be an escape for much longer. As I made my way through the party, it struck me why Liz sounds better – it’s what my Mother used to call me. I think my dad nicknamed me Lizzie, and I let the unwanted name stick with me. I’ve never liked it though, and hearing Max say “Liz” sounded right.
I took off my cloth apron and left it in the kitchen on the hook behind the door. I left the tray behind, and pulled on my jacket before heading outside to meet Maria. I wasn’t conscious then that Max Evans was watching me as I left.
"The expected is just the beginning. The unexpected is what changes our lives."
Meredith - Grey's Anatomy