Huge barrels of thanks to:
Carrie: Thank you so much! Unfortunately, you’re going to be left hanging as far as Liz/Serena/Eileen for another two chapters. *scrounges up cookies and Kyle adorableness as compensation*
tequathisy:
I do think that Serena has made a huge whopping mistake, right from the very start. At the same time she had absolutely no other choice. She had to try whatever she could to help Liz.
Yep. This is a woman who in another reality was intelligent enough to rig a time machine – but she is still extremely human and flawed. All of the impartiality in the world won’t help when you’re in a situation where you’re made to feel helpless.
Eileen, on the other hand is playing a very dangerous stupid game with Liz. How on earth did she think that supplying Liz with drugs would benefit her? This girl has been through rehab so supposedly she knows all about the dangers of drugs even the so called harmless ones that are really gateway drugs to much harder stuff. She's just breathtakingly stupid.
Well, I will say that
Wench_on_a_Leash was on the right track when she said something to the effect of Eileen having good reason to think that pot would calm Liz down. Marijuana use, both medically and recreationally, can be a really touchy subject to most people – but to Eileen all she sees is that her best friend is suffering, she has a way that she *thinks* will help ease that suffering, so of course she’s going to use it. As far as the people who might have educated her otherwise, I will say that her attitude toward the medical field on a whole is one big “F*** YOU.” Serena will kind of explain why soon(ish).
How long was Liz in FBI custody for? And what happened while she was there? Why has Maria never tried to contact the pod squad to let them know?
Erm… the first two questions will kinda-sorta be answered in the part after this next one, but then again they kinda won’t. As for Maria, I will say that she is completely out of the loop on a lot of things – to the point where to a certain extent she doesn’t even realize there’s a “loop” she should be included in.
OT, but I absolutely love your new avvie.
begonia9508:
I guess if Liz would accept her powers that it would be easier for her to master it!
This is going to be incredibly important to the storyline, Liz’s individual arc in particular, in the near future.
nibbles2:
I really think that though Eileen and Serena mean well, they are way out of their depth. They don't know what they're dealing with and how to handle it. I think they're probably making matters worse.
Oh, yes. They are completely out of their depth. I don’t know if they’ve made anything worse, per say – Liz has pretty much been on a one-way trip to her own personal hell since she left Roswell. And, just as food for thought: Isabel, who hasn’t been out of control of a dreamwalk since Laurie was abducted in season two, was not only jerked in and out of Liz’s nightmare like a rag doll, she didn’t/was unable to change anything while she was there.
Serena has fucked up Liz's therapy and Eileen is a former junkie who is inducing Liz to use drugs!!!!!!! Crazy.
I will say that Eileen could be viewed as the person who originally introduced Liz to drugs. But that isn’t to say that it is by any means a recent development. As for Serena, not only is she the psychiatric equivalent of a surgical intern (so basically she still doesn’t have the experience she needs to be put in charge of a case as complicated as Liz’s), but as cited in the first part, she only has sporadic visits with Liz and a seven-year-old journal to work off of – so while that definitely doesn’t change the fact that she’s screwed up, it’s very much a “who wouldn’t?” situation.
oh my God. Liz was abducted by the feds, no wonder she's a wreck.
Yep. But Liz being abducted is important for a completely different set of reasons than you might think.
Christina:
Oh Serena, you're not perfect, but I still love you anyway.
*allows Serena out to bask in loving*
I knew that it was partly the reason why Serena acted out the way she did, but I had absolutely no idea she'd done all that research on Max. And knew all that other stuff. That definitely came as a big shock.
And the even bigger shock is the knowledge that Liz, too, has been held captive by the FBI. And that she doesn't even know it (or does, and has just repressed it.) Man, I definitely need to prepare myself for Liz's reaction after learning about all of this. The Max stuff, the FBI stuff, yeah, it'll definitely be intense.
Yeah, that’s partly the reason why Serena and Eileen’s viewpoints regarding Liz will sometimes tend to seem all-or-nothing; they are both looking at this from
completely different angles. Eileen is looking at it solely from the viewpoint of someone who has seen their friend put through hell and is out for blood or, at the very least, some measure of closure – whereas Serena has to deal with the technicalities of Liz’s condition and can’t jump to Liz’s defense or hold her hand every time things get rough.
Serena and Eileen only know what they’ve heard from Liz about her time in FBI custody. Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that Liz is completely missing a chunk of her life – and that not only does she not want to remember it, but her therapist, who understands how precarious her physical state is, probably isn’t pushing her to remember anywhere near as much as she should be.
Dumb of Eileen to do, but at the same time I can understand why she did it.
Maybe it’s from all the drugs, or maybe it’s just the way she’s wired, but Eileen genuinely doesn’t feel like she’s doing anything wrong – of course, she’d rather Serena be medicating Liz properly (and legally), but if she can’t go through her sister to help Liz she’ll go around her. Which is what makes her such an infuriating and, to me at least, loveable character.
I feel sorry for them not really being able to do what they want to do because Liz is having all these crazy problems. At least Maria got out-- not that it's really helping her too much either. But still, Liz's guilt/depression/problem is wearing me out and I'm not even in this story!
As will be explained as the timeline is somewhat fleshed out, Serena and Eileen both had a chance to pretty much establish themselves and “grow up” before Liz’s crap really got out of control. And Eileen even, as is mentioned in chapter five, travels for her work. But you’re right, there is an incredible emotional burden on their shoulders. They don’t deserve all the crap they have to deal with anymore than Kyle, for example.
Raychelxluscious: RAYCHEL!!! *hugs* You must update Absence. What can I give you in bribes for an update?
lockheart
and once more, to nibbles and Christina: Even though in the end you guys were pretty neutral, I still thought that you brought up some very good points about why Kyle should get his part now instead of later. So thanks for helping me decide!
Kyle's Note: So the author totally lied. She said this would be such a nice, funny, happy part, and what does she do? She sneaks in an angsty ending right under my nose. I just thought it should be known that I totally went to the mat for you guys. But, hey, at least you get FOURTEEN WHOLE PAGES OF ME!!! And it could've been worse. You could have been stuck with Jesse.
So read. Laugh! And by all means, enjoy basking in my aswesomness!
Part Ten
Kyle wants to make a joke.
It’s what he does and – usually, at least – what he’s good at.
He figured out pretty quickly that if he wanted any lightness in his life, he would have to be the one to provide it. And apart from the occasional wisecrack from Michael or even rarer shot of humor courtesy of Max, this has largely proved true.
He is forever breaking up awkward silences with witty banter and making light of weighty situations with only a slyly interjected comment or noise. Because, hey,
someone has to make sure they don’t drown in their own tears.
No one has ever shown any interest in the job, and so it falls to Kyle.
This doesn’t really bother him, though. Quite the opposite, actually.
When Isabel and Max give him that half-condescending, half-affectionate glare programmed into them from birth and Michael threatens to pummel him, it feels like he’s found his place in the world. His niche. Like maybe he’s the one bright spot in this otherwise grim extraterrestrial entourage.
It’s his job to hold them together, to be the glue when they’re tearing in fifty different directions. This, naturally, is more often than not displayed in wisecracks about Isabel’s cleaning habits and Michael’s sexuality.
But right now, even though waspish, nervous commentary is running through his head at the speed of a freight train, he can’t make himself give voice to any of it. (This doesn’t really seem like a joking matter, anyway.)
He can only stare at the four people he’s come to consider family.
Isabel is crying.
(Not particularly unusual, but still disturbing.)
Jesse is brooding.
(A little more surprising, but still, nothing to get his panties in a twist over.)
Michael looks like he wants to throttle someone.
(And this is almost comforting, because when isn’t
Michael preparing to throttle someone?)
But Max… Max is crying, too.
Max doesn’t even cry over his nightmares.
In fact, the only time Kyle has ever seen Max cry is on one of their semi-spontaneous hospital runs, when something goes wrong.
Or when something reminds him of Zan.
Kyle’s at a loss.
And that, maybe, scares him even more than Isabel’s confession.
“Max, it’s okay. I called Maria, and I asked her about it, and she said that Liz was fine,” Isabel says, breaking this freakish silence they’ve fallen into. There is a desperate, unsure hope in her voice that makes him want to squirm.
Max doesn’t look up at her words, but Michael and Kyle both turn to look at Izzy.
Her hair, blond and shoulder-length once more, is parted on the left side and looks like it hasn’t said hello to a brush in weeks. Her skin is fluctuating scarily between grey and green. And her eyes are practically a water table.
Michael’s expression says he isn’t willing to believe anything Isabel says right now if it involves the word ‘fine.’
Kyle is inclined to agree.
And so, apparently, is her husband.
“Is, why don’t you go lie down?” Jesse asks quietly. “Give Max a chance to process this. I’ll bring you some of that ginger tea that’s supposed to help with morning sickness.”
Kyle snorts.
Ginger tea in bed? What the hell kind of pansy
is this guy?
He remembers holding back Isabel’s hair while she threw up yesterday morning, mere minutes after she broke the joyous news to him, and some of the wind leaves his sails.
“Morning sickness? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Michael demands irritably. And of course, because it’s their terminally suspicious General, this valid question careens into their tentative avoidance and threatens to shatter it.
Isabel hasn’t broken the news to Michael yet. Right.
Max is in absolutely no state to soften the news or otherwise guilt his brother into submission.
Oh, shit.
With that near-regal composure that once had Kyle convinced he was in love with her, Isabel draws her shoulders back and levels Michael with determined eyes. “Jesse and I are going to have a baby.”
Michael explodes.
“Oh, that’s great, Isabel! That’s just fucking great! Are you going to invite Pierce’s successor into the delivery room, or are you just gonna leave him a nice little trail of bread crumbs to the door?”
“Watch it,” Jesse growls. As if to prove a point, he unconsciously flexes his arm muscles.
Kyle sighs knowingly and shakes his head.
Like that’s going to get you anywhere.
Mikey, of course, ignores Jesse completely and focuses on his sister.
(And never let it be said that Max is the only who plays Bad Cop, because Michael too has had
plenty of practice where Isabel is concerned.)
“How could you let this happen?” he bites out.
Isabel stiffens. “Excuse me? Nothing ‘happened’ that wasn’t planned, Michael! The special unit has never given me and Jesse any trouble. I’m twenty-five now, and I don’t plan to be fifty by the time my eldest child graduates from high school!”
Michael’s already darkened face becomes roughly the same color as a tomato. Kyle wonders what name Martha Steward would give this truly spectacular shade, and concludes it would probably be dubbed some brand of rose.
“Eldest? Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, there?”
The last time any variation of this argument was remotely new was around 2000 – and yet, he notes, they don’t seem to be stopping any time soon.
Kyle rolls his eyes. If he wanted this kind of entertainment he’d watch a dog fight.
His eyes go to Max, who has been lost in the shuffle of the latest Isabel drama. Feeling a compulsive need to make sure he’s still in the room.
They all react differently in crises.
Kyle makes jokes.
Jesse dusts off his often ignored morality.
Isabel and Michael erupt first and think logically later.
But Max, he just folds in on himself. Disappears inside his own head until he’s comfortable enough with his best-face-forward to step up and take back control.
That’s usually around the point that things really start going to hell.
Right now, Max looks like a browbeaten dog. All of the noise can’t be helping.
“Guys –” Kyle attempts.
He’s ignored.
(But of course.)
“What are you going to do about doctor’s appointments and blood tests, huh?” Michael raises his eyebrow, looking victorious and generally asinine.
“Max has already agreed to regularly check in on me during the pregnancy. We’ll tell everyone that we want a home birth, and then, a week before the due date my midwife will catch pneumonia. Max – or you, if you’re willing – will come to the hospital when I go into labor and take care of everything,” Isabel replies.
Kyle only vaguely absorbs this. He is still shooting worried glances at Max.
The muscles in Max’s forearm flex as he rests his head against his hand.
He draws in deep, frantic breaths, as if struggling against imminent suffocation. Clenches his jaw repeatedly.
Even as he realizes how dysfunctional and unhealthy this entire situation is, Kyle feels relief lap at his tattered nerves.
If Max is breaking down, at least he isn’t shutting down. In a minute he’ll be cheerfully pushing his feelings aside long enough to play referee and figure out what the hell they’re going to do about Liz. Then he’ll be back to collapsing, and maybe, like the semi-healthy person he can sometimes be, coping.
“I can’t believe you would be this irresponsible! Maybe they’re not giving you trouble today, but eventually they will be. What are you going to do then? Take junior on the run? Give him up like Max had to with Zan?”
He watches with despair as the minimal progress Max has made is dashed by the mention of his son.
“Max didn’t have to give Zan up. He chose to,” Isabel grinds out. Her nostrils flare threateningly.
For a minute, Kyle forgets that he’s pissed off at Michael for barging into Isabel and Jesse’s apartment, and for jumping down Isabel’s throat because seeing Max cry is something he’s never been able to deal with,
and for being a tool and bringing up the original munchkin Czech. He actually feels a stab of sympathy.
Because if she doesn’t pass out from exhaustion first, Isabel is going to rip him to shreds.
“Maybe that was the best choice at the time, but this is a
completely different situation. This is the natural progression of my life with Jesse. Why does the idea of the future – of the three of us trying to build a future – scare you so much?”
“Because there is no future for us! There’s only right now, and we’re pretty lucky that we even have this!” Michael bellows.
Kyle huffs in aggravation. Now they’ll be here all day.
(And for a second he is almost thankful that Max is out of commission, because the minute Michael or Isabel starts preaching he has a tendency to turn into a self-righteous ass. Buddha only knows how many more angry vibes Izzy’s little slugger can absorb before it goes into distress.)
Jesse dusts off his lawyer hat and steps up to the plate. Kyle mentally says his goodbyes. “Can we please retreat to our separate corners here? There are more pressing issues at the moment.”
Isabel swings her arm in a dismissive gesture, and comes dangerously close to clocking her optimistic husband in the nose.
“No. No, you know what, Michael? You’re just bitter because you had a chance with Maria and you threw it away!”
Michael whitens.
Kyle curses under his breath.
Max’s head comes up from the protective cocoon of his hands.
Mike’s voice is rough as he responds. His face finally betraying some measure of vulnerability. “Protecting someone you love is not the same as throwing them away.”
Isabel, apparently, finds this hysterical.
Kyle cringes.
“Protecting her?! Like Liz and Max ‘protected’ each other all the times they lied and isolated themselves? Like my parents have been ‘protected’ from the truth of what we are while they grieve a dead son? Lying to someone is
not protecting them!”
Michael jabs his index finger in the general direction of Isabel’s chest. “Don’t you dare talk to me about lying to people you love. You wouldn’t even be married if you hadn’t bullshitted your way into it!”
And with a swift change that Kyle can only attribute to pregnancy hormones, his female friend is suddenly back to emotional square one.
Isabel’s lower lip trembles. A stray tear falls rapidly down her cheek.
Jesse, who, like Kyle, has previously limited his contributions to sighs and eye rolling, has reached his breaking point. His face is ruddy with anger. A vein in his forehead throbs as his pecs once again flex disturbingly. “If you can’t show respect for my wife and my marriage then you’d better get the
hell out of my house.”
Snap.
Isabel and Michael haven’t fought like this since the death fake-out, and then most of the arguments between them and Max were carried out behind closed doors. Jesse has never been privy to the whole spectrum of dysfunction the three of them operate in when they fight, where Isabel’s ‘proper techniques’ and ‘unthreatening words’ and precious ‘calming breaths’ all get thrown out the window.
They fight dirty. They manipulate.
When it suits them, they dissolve into tears or vent their frustrations on helpless TV sets.
And to step in and insinuate that a completely useless third party like a
husband has any say in their altercation is definitely
not going to go over well.
But while Kyle has been trying to blend into the scenery and avoid getting clipped by the crossfire, Max has been completing his miraculous recovery.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
He rises to his feet looking ten years older and preoccupied. “Michael, back off. This is between Isabel and Jesse; and anyway, it’s done. The most we can do now is try to make this as safe as possible for everyone. She doesn’t need this any more than you do.”
Isabel smiles gratefully. Has the sense to seem chastened and a little guilty. “Thank you, Max.” She crosses the room and hugs him tightly. “Liz is all right,” she murmurs.
Something about the way she says it makes Kyle think that these words are meant only for Max. The way he clings to her in response reinforces the privacy of the moment.
Jesse’s face is once more a mask of concern, and Michael is staring at the floor, sending out vibes that fall between shame and aggravation. None of them say anything.
“What happened to her?” Max chokes out. Sounding fearful and raw and tiny. “She was supposed to get out. To have a normal life.”
Kyle grins mirthlessly. These aliens really are clueless, aren’t they?
There’s no going back to normal after you’ve had your life thrown in a blender and doused with thematic green food coloring. It’s just not feasible.
He’s sure wherever Liz is, she’s realized this too. He just hopes she’s not kicking herself for believing – hoping – otherwise.
Isabel is still attempting to comfort her brother.
“I know, Max. I know she was. But we’ve done all that we can.”
That’s when Kyle sees it: that spark of determination that used to ignite in Liz’s eyes right before she would say, “I have a plan.”
But the aforementioned eyes aren’t Liz’s, and Max is looking
right at him.
He tries not to crap his pants.
“Kyle, you’re going home to visit Jim and Amy today, right?”
What is that, a trick question?
“Yeeeaaah. That was kind of the point of the whole ‘get everyone together for awkward conversation’ exercise. You know, so if the plane crashes I have a suitably awful last memory to cling to while I’m dying,” he says. Suspicion colors his tone.
“And so I could get my damn casserole dish back,” Isabel mutters.
Kyle fondly takes in the nauseas look on Michael’s face.
Serves the prickly ass right.
“Kyle,” Max starts, and the apprehension that had momentarily fizzled in the face of Michael’s distress comes back full force, “can you talk to Mr. or Mrs. Parker while you’re in town? Get an address?”
Even without alien powers, Kyle knows that there’s no possible way this can end well.
“What, so you’re back to stalking Liz from afar?” he asks uncomfortably. Waits for Michael to snicker appreciatively or back him up. For Jesse to go off on a tangent about free will and Liz’s right to live her life away from them.
Instead, support for Max arrives from an unexpected corner.
“If Liz is in trouble – or if she’s involved with the government or with something alien – then we should know,” Isabel insists.
Kyle stares at her in surprise. He knows that if he lets his jaw hang open any longer he’s liable to trap a fly, but for the life of him he can’t seem to snap it shut.
Because however sensible her words, all he sees in Izzy’s eyes is stomach-churning worry – and not for herself, or for Max, or for the aliens as a whole; but for Liz.
He’s not sure if it’s this or Max’s pleading gaze that makes him cave in the end.
Either way, he still finds himself saying, “Sure. Okay. Anyone else you want me to track down? I hear Vicki Delaney turned out nicely.”
“You’re an ass, Valenti,” Michael grumbles.
He can’t help but huff at this, because
excuse him, but not every freaking moment
has to carry the weight of an army tanker.
Isabel brushes her thumb across the dime-sized dimple in his right cheek and smiles warmly. He gives her a half-hearted grin in return and thinks she’ll probably make a great mom to some lucky little martian child.
She drops her hand. Claps energetically. Now that the argument has been cut short and their first crisis in years resolved successfully, Heidi Homemaker is ready to take center stage once more. “So, who wants some quiche?”
As Max is trying to find a way to gracefully decline, Isabel rapidly begins resembling Kermit the frog. “Oh, God,” she says, and then she is streaking toward the bathroom in a blur.
The four of them cringe sympathetically at the retching that comes seconds later.
Then, shaking his head and running a large hand across his forehead, Michael raises his eyebrows. “So, where’d she hide the normal food?”
And just like that, Jesse has started making his miracle ginger tea and is pointing Michael to the topmost cupboard, a temporary truce struck between them, as Kyle and Max slump onto the couch.
He revels in how unbelievably
solid this all feels.
Then, because he’d be a crappy friend if he didn’t, he goes back out onto shaky ground to make sure Max is still with him.
“In all seriousness, Max,” he asks, “are you alright?”
Their eyes meet, and Kyle, not what one would call an emotional maven to begin with, decides not to even try deciphering the tangle of feelings he sees on his best friend’s face.
“Find out how Liz is,” he says softly. Simply.
Then he turns the TV on, and Isabel’s pukefest and Michael’s uncouth eating habits are drowned out by the weather channel.
Neither of them speaks again.
Like any true comedian, Kyle knows that some silences shouldn’t be disturbed.
-
He watches, not a little pessimistically, as the gate empties.
There’s no one here to pick him up.
It shouldn’t be that surprising, really: as he stands awkwardly to the side, he mentally replays each and every time this happened to him as a kid.
Concludes that if it weren’t for all those gossip-hungry PTA moms, he probably would have spent the better part of his childhood getting from home to school and sports practices on foot.
There were always citizens to protect. Suspects to question.
Clues to follow.
And somehow, in the scuffle he was always getting left behind. Is still getting left behind.
Kyle thinks of boarding the plane: of Isabel, looking like hell, having to lean on Jesse in the terminal as she handed him a bagged lunch.
Of Michael’s scathing parting shot and oddly emotional handshake.
Of Max, obviously wanting a million and one promises and reassurances, merely wishing him a safe trip.
He thinks of them, and remembers why despite their angst and self-absorption and general dreariness, these are the people who come to mind when he thinks of family.
Then he hears the loud clattering of high heels. The gate, one of only two in the small airport, is now empty, and the sound echoes eerily.
Kyle looks up and sees his step-mother heading toward him with a frazzled expression.
“I am so sorry, Kyle! The car broke down on the side of the road, and then I had to call for a tow truck, and you know how long Lou takes, and
then I had to call your dad to see if he could come get me, but he was out on a call, so I had to ask Hansen and you know how slow he drives –”
She cuts off, smiling as she takes him in. The cheerful expression doesn’t hide her haggardness.
He feels a pang of guilt for his thoughts. And also, a burst of relief that he hasn’t once more been forgotten or abandoned.
They pick up his luggage and walk back to Hansen’s cruiser, Kyle in relative silence and Amy chattering happily. He is reminded of an older, less self-possessed Maria.
“– I’ve had to completely revamp your father’s diet. You wouldn’t believe how much weight he’d gained! Of course, most of that is probably from eating so many of my pies…” Amy actually blushes at this, a hesitant but proud smile blooming on her face.
Kyle, remembering his Czech-related mission, sees an opening and takes it. “So are you still making pies for the Crashdown?”
They are approaching Hansen’s cruiser now. She stops at his question, face hard and eyes sad. “Yes, I am. Nancy and I talk a lot. It helps to have someone who… well, it helps.”
Hansen’s head pops out of the passenger side window. “Hey, son,” he says, in that cheerful and clueless voice that always makes Kyle want to slug him.
He thanks God that after his dad got his hands on a Deputy badge the good people of Roswell had the sense to reelect him as sheriff.
“Hansen.” He nods in acknowledgment and throws his suitcase in the trunk.
“So how is my wayward daughter?” Amy asks. She tries to play it off as nonchalant, but her hands are balled into tight fists.
Kyle shifts uncomfortably. “Eh, you know. We e-mail.”
Six months after leaving Roswell, Maria dropped him a line. They’ve continued on like that since, their one or two-line e-mails occasionally punctuated by the odd photograph or amusing story. For the most part, they’re friendly strangers.
He’s pretty sure that’s how she wants it.
“Actually, I wouldn’t know.”
He feels like shit.
Wonders why Maria couldn’t figure out a way to get to her mother’s wedding, and why Amy can’t be the adult in the relationship and let that and a million other small things go already.
(But he thinks he knows why Maria didn’t come; and that, maybe, is the saddest fucking part of this whole mess.)
They get into the cruiser, and to show that he is forgiven, Amy slides into the back with him. She pats his knee. “So, how was your date last night?” Her eyes have become lively, excited.
He groans inwardly.
“How the hell did you hear about that?”
“Language, young man,” she reprimands. “When Isabel called she mentioned that she’d fixed you up with a Buddhist friend of hers. So, how was it?”
Well, you see, Amy, after dragging my best friend back to my apartment and watching him cry himself to sleep, I was pretty exhausted myself. So I overslept and showed up at the restaurant looking like a reject mountain climber, and over appetizers this seriously imbalanced chick claimed that we were siblings in another incarnation. Overall, not a very promising engagement.
He musters up a sour-looking grin. “I think it went well.”
Amy talks all the way back to the house.
-
He’s struck by just how little the Crash has changed.
It makes him remember briefly why he was so damn terrified of being stuck in this town forever.
When he walks through the door that infernal bell dings as loudly as ever, and he notices with equal parts delight and disbelief that Agnes is the only waitress out front.
“I told you, you can only git that on Sundays.”
An infuriated customer with the distinctive look of a tourist smacks the counter. “But you told me that the Mercury Burger and the Empire Special are the same thing!”
Agnes sighs the sigh of someone who is old and infinitely tired. A pack of Camels peeks out of her breast pocket as her customary Crash uniform shifts with the back-and-forth movement of her head. “No, I
said…”
With much more confidence than he feels, Kyle strides across the dining area and pushes into the backroom.
It is empty, and if he shuts his eyes he knows he will be bombarded by the ghosts of Liz and Maria.
(Max and Michael aren’t the only ones who were discarded.)
He resolutely keeps his eyes open.
The grey paint on the waitress’ lockers is chipping, the door hinges rusting. He wonders if Mrs. Parker – he decided on the plane that she would be his best bet – will seem as exhausted as her café. The apartment door slams shut, and he realizes he’ll find out in a minute.
Her voice, clear and irritated as ever, fills him with unexpected emotion.
“I’m sorry, but customers aren’t –”
Kyle turns around. Watches recognition and tears fill her eyes.
Isn’t remotely prepared when she flies down the stairs and clutches him to her tightly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, over and over, “I’m so glad you came.”
-
They settle onto the living room couch. Mrs. Parker warms up a cold pot of green tea, and they balance large mugs on their knees.
Once again Kyle notes how much this feels like a ghost town.
There is only one picture of Liz or Maria; it hangs off to the side on the mantle, and features them posing with two other girls.
Liz and an average-sized blond whose hair is streaked with pink share the center. They are both in dresses: Liz’s a modest and sleeveless V-neck that falls to her knees, her companion donning a slightly racier spaghetti strap number. Maria is situated to Liz’s right in jeans and a blouse, and one long, elegant arm encompasses both girls’ shoulders. On the other end of the group is a woman – Kyle guesses in her early twenties – with cat-shaped eyes and a distinctly cute nose. She can’t be any taller than Liz.
They all look happy and worn.
His eyes linger on the girl next to Liz for a moment before he turns his attention back to Liz’s mom.
She’s noticed the direction of his stare, and is smiling wanly. “That was taken by Jeffrey at Liz’s high school graduation. The girls with them are Liz’s roommate Eileen and Eileen’s older sister Serena.”
He absentmindedly thinks that the name Serena should mean something to him, but he’s still too busy checking out the blond to think on it further.
It’s weird and, to be honest, more than a little freaky, but he can’t help but think that he
knows this person somehow. Or that she knows him.
Kyle deduces that it’s probably just because she’s hot.
“That’s actually why I dropped by,” he says, fidgeting. “I haven’t talked to Liz in forever, and since I was in town I thought I’d ask after her. See if you could give me a phone number or e-mail address.” He tries at a winning Max grin.
Mrs. Parker purses her lips. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to help you with that. I haven’t talked to Liz in years, and according to her father, her apartment line was disconnected.”
“Oh. You – but wouldn’t she have called with a new phone number?”
Nancy laughs, a little too bitterly for Kyle’s comfort. “Liz and her father have been arguing since her senior year of high school. Then, when Liz and that
girl almost got expelled for keeping drugs in their room, things just escalated completely out of control. I can’t imagine why they kept talking for as long as they did when all they ever did was yell.”
Kyle tries to wrap his head around these newly unearthed developments.
Drugs? Expulsion?
The hollow feeling of hitting a dead end pounces on him as he realizes Liz Parker can no longer be reconciled with the girl he’s carried around in his memories.
Thinking he probably doesn’t want to know but feeling compelled to ask, Kyle inquires, “Why did you and Liz stop talking?”
Her face, all lines and odd angles, holds him captive. “You can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to watch your child die right in front of you when they’re still very much alive.”
It sounds more like an excuse than an answer.
But she’s right, he wouldn’t know.
He thinks of her puttering around the restaurant day after day, and of Amy baking her pies resolutely.
He thinks of these two lost and disconnected women, and Kyle has never been so happy to be ignorant.
Thanks for the vote of confidence! I'm very much trying to just let this story... happen. It seems to be working for now.
It does make sense that you would deduce that Max was trying to draw the special unit's attention after the last chapter, though. It's more like Max knowing that it'll draw their attention and doing it anyway.
Plus, I've had a little Isabel/Liz friendshipper in me since 285 South. I checked out "Come on Eileen" after you mentioned it, and absolutely love it! I think it suites my Eileen, too.