Roswell Fanatics

Part Ten

Casper’s is crowded just like it was last Friday. As we weave through the crowd, Mae takes my hand to avoid being separated. I follow Ramon and Maria to a table a few back from the stage.

“I have to get ready,” she says, briefly touching Ramon’s arm. He gives her an annoyed glance but says nothing.

Mae leans over and gives Maria a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, sister – I know you won’t need it!”

Ramon doesn’t offer the same sentiment and Maria walks away, a hint of dejection in her stance. I’m beginning to strongly dislike that guy.

But my date is engaging and talkative, so it’s not hard to turn my back on the sourpuss Maria brought with her. A waitress stops at our table. Mae orders a gin and tonic, Ramon gruffly demands a beer and I ask for soda. As the waitress moves away, Mae lifts an eyebrow in my direction.

“Not a drinker, huh?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No. Never have been, really. But don’t take that to mean I mind if you do.”

She waves me off with a hand. “I’m sure you don’t. Maria didn’t mention you were uptight.” Her dark eyes drift over my shoulder and I know she’s looking to see if Ramon is listening. I think we both know he’s uptight. From her expression, I assume he’s engaged elsewhere.

I scratch my chin, curious. “Just wondering,” I begin. “What did Maria tell you about me?”

Mae smiles and lights up the room. She’s absolutely stunning. “Not much really.”

“Come on,” I tease. “You have an unfair advantage here.”

She laughs lightly. “Okay. She just said that you’re a friend visiting from out of town for awhile, someone she knew from high school.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s it?”

She nods. “She left some things out, obviously.” She points to the pale band around my ring finger. “That, for instance.”

I follow her gaze.

“Are you married?” she asks steadily. I have a feeling if I answer yes, then she’s going to get up and move for the door. I respect her for that.

“No,” I say. “I was married, awhile ago.”

“Define ‘awhile.’ Awhile as in ten years ago or awhile as in last week?”

I laugh. “Don’t worry – it’s been awhile as in years.”

Her grin returns, satisfied. “Well, then, now that we have that behind us. Tell me all about yourself. What do you do?”

What do I do? I mope and mourn my lost wife. Well, until recently – now I park on Maria’s couch and spend days at a time in the art museum. I’m spared trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for myself by the arrival of our drinks. Ramon gulps his and angrily slams the bottle onto the table. I glance in his direction but decide to ignore him.

“You know, I think I see a friend of mine over there that I’d like you to meet,” Mae says, gathering her drink. “Come with me.”

I look at her questioningly, but follow anyway. When we get over to the bar, I look for her “friend” but find no one. She turns on her heels and glares in Ramon’s direction.

“Who pissed in his Wheaties?” she spits.

I shrug apologetically. “I think maybe I did.”

At that, she bursts out laughing and lays a hand on my arm. “You have the most adorable facial expressions,” she says.

Ears – red.

Unabashed, she reaches up and touches my face, her long figures traveling from my temple down to my chin. “You have interesting bone structure,” she comments, like I’m an entrant in a dog show.

“Uh…thank you?” I say, not sure how to respond to that.

She laughs again and slides her arm around my waist. Across the room, I see that Vivian chick who was hitting on me a week ago. That girl and her overbearing advances disgusted me. But for some reason I don’t mind Mae touching me and being affectionate. Maybe because Mae feels genuine and that girl certainly did not. In return to Mae’s gesture, I loop my arm around her shoulders.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the emcee calls. “She’s back! Setting a record with twenty consecutive open mike performances, please help me welcome back Ms. Maria Deluca!”

The room goes crazy and I can’t help but grin that Maria is getting so much love and attention. She certainly deserves it. I breathe a sigh of relief as she breezes onto the stage and I can’t see through her shirt.

“Can you imagine the reception she would have gotten if all of the guys in here had been able to see her nipples?” Mae yells over the din of the crowd.

I look at her in amazement and shake my head. She and Maria are so comfortable talking about their body parts I have to wonder if it’s a regular occurrence for them…

“Good morning, Mae.”

“Good morning, Maria. How are you today?”

“Great, thank you. How do my nipples look in this sweater?”

I shake my head to will away the image.

On the stage, Maria grips the mike and waits graciously for the room to quiet down. “Thank you,” she says, “you’re all too kind! I’d like to dedicate my performance tonight to a friend – a very good friend. Max, this is for you.”

Mae squeezes me happily, but I see Ramon surveying the room for me. I think he hates me.

The music starts and Maria breaks into Dido’s “Thank You.” I can’t help the sad smile that comes to my face. Liz loved Dido – I think I still have that CD packed away in her grandmother’s cedar chest in Roswell. I listen to Maria’s sweet voice and instead of feeling sad, I feel a little glow of affection inside.

When the song is over, Mae turns so that she’s facing me and puts her other hand on my waist. “She loves you very much,” she says, her eyes creased at the corners with an affectionate smile.

I nod. “Yeah. She does.”

“Did you two ever…?”

I give a surprised gasp at her boldness, but shake my head with a laugh. “No. I was married to her best friend.”

Mae’s smile widens. “Good. I won’t feel bad, then.”

I’m still processing the meaning of that when she leans in and kisses me on the lips. I freeze, panicked like a deer in the headlights. What do I do? Should I kiss her back? Should I push her away? What do I want to do? Oh, God, is it bad to want to kiss her back?

I decide that it is not bad and give in to her for a couple of moments. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against mine, her lips stretched into that perpetual smile.

“You’re sweet,” she says.

I give a little laugh. “Yeah, so are you.”

A few minutes later, after Mae has released me and called to the bartender to get another drink, Maria is beside us, excited.

“Oh, my God!” she spouts. “That was so cool! Did you hear them?”

“I did,” I answer, chuckling at her exuberance. I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the dedication. It was very sweet of you.”

She smiles at me and touches my arm. “You deserve it, Max.”

Mae retrieves a drink for Maria as well and the two girls stand there chatting quickly about how Maria brought the house down. People from the crowd stop by and congratulate her, offering their compliments. I get the feeling a lot of them are strangers. I watch the whole thing with a huge sense of pride. I don’t know why – it’s not like I had anything to do with Maria’s talent.

Ramon is absent for the first half hour of Maria’s reception line. Then he appears like the party pooper he is and mutters something to her. Her happy demeanor is gone in an instant.

“You guys ready to go?” she asks, her expression full of meaning. If she could beg nonverbally, she would.

“Sure,” Mae says, taking my hand. “Let’s go!”

On the street, we resume our positions, Ramon and Maria walking quickly in front, Mae and myself trailing. Forget Ramon hating me – I’m pretty sure I hate him. How dare he piss on her evening like this?

My internal rant over Ramon’s ill manners is abruptly interrupted as Mae grabs me by the arm and hurls me into an alley. I laugh lightly and look to her for an explanation. I can’t even ask a single question before she presses me against the brick wall with her body, her knee sliding between my legs. Her lips join mine and I suddenly forget all about Ramon.

The last woman to kiss me sexually was my wife – the morning she died. I’m marveling at the length of time that has passed as Mae’s hands slide inside of my jacket, over my chest. She gives a little groan and reaches around to caress my back. My hands have stayed chastely on her waist while hers are all over me. I’m not sure what it’s like to be molested by a woman, but I think this might be close.

“Wait,” I say softly, gently pushing her away from me.

Her eyebrows are lifted, but there is no scorn in her eyes. “You okay?” she asks.

I nod. God, I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I’m just not ready to do this. “Mae, I think you’re beautiful,” I begin.

“But you don’t want to have sex tonight,” she concludes for me. Surprisingly, her tone lacks rejection. Is this girl for real?

I nod slowly. “That’s true. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says, the smile returning. “It’s perfectly okay.” Then the smile disappears and she cocks her head slightly to the side. “You’re in love with someone.”

Yes, my wife. I bite my lip.

She straightens her head and her eyes widen a bit. “You’re in love with someone – but it’s not who you think it is.”

I’m sure my expression is a bit stunned. What does that mean? I’m in love with someone and don’t know it? How is that possible? If it is possible – how can this stranger see that in me?

Mae gives me one last kiss, then gives me the same sentiment she gave about Maria having to wear a bra. “Pity.” She glances toward the street – I’m sure Ramon and Maria are long gone. “Look, we have a problem.”

“We do?” I ask.

“Yeah, I was supposed to, uh…detain you for a couple of hours.”

Oh, I get it. Maria wants the apartment to herself so she and Ramon can…forget it – I don’t want to think about what they are going to do.

Mae shrugs. “I think given the circumstances, going back to my place wouldn’t be appropriate.”

I give her a half smile. “No, probably not.”

“Want to go back to the club?”

I shake my head. “Not really. But I know a great little coffee shop a couple of blocks over – they’re open all night. I’d like to talk some more with you, if you don’t mind.”

She grins and loops her arm around my waist. “What are we waiting for?”

As we walk over to the café, I have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Is it a result of Mae’s cryptic fortune-telling?

Or is it something else?

tbc

I'm a writing fool! Hey, when the muse calls, you don't question - you just go


Part Eleven

Mae is absolutely charming, and after about a half hour in her company, I start to relax. I don’t know where the uneasiness came from while we were leaving the alley, but I try to chalk it up to the fact that my life has changed drastically in the last week. Two weeks ago, there was no way I’d be asking a stranger out for coffee in the middle of the night. It’s going to take time to adjust to things being different.

We talk easily over coffee and croissants. The smile never leaves her lips and that immediately puts me at ease. In her eyes, I see wisdom beyond her years – Mae has an old soul. In that way, she reminds me of Isabel. My sister always seemed more traveled than she really was. I wonder with a touch of sadness if Isabel hadn’t spent her whole life hiding and running if she’d be as approachable as Mae is.

I tell Mae about my sister, about how we grew up inseparable. She admits with a bit of a frown that she was an only child and never had the comfort of a sibling. Then I fill her in on some of the mean things Iz and I did to one another and she laughs and says she’s happy she was an only child.

Time in the café flies and I soon realize that I’ve been “detained” longer than the required two hours. I hail a cab for Mae and pay her fare. She gives me a soft kiss on the cheek and touches my arm as she gets into the cab. Her eyes never leave mine and I feel like she somehow knows so much more about me than she’s telling – and it’s not that I think Maria has told her things. I think Mae is a bit of a mystic – she just knows things about people. I get the definite feeling she knows I’m “different” but probably doesn’t understand in what way. Strangely, I’m also not worried that she’ll expose me. She’s an interesting person.

As the cab pulls away from the curb, I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. I’m not interested in her romantically, but on a human level I think I’ll be much worse off if I don’t. Hands in my pockets, I start walking back to Maria’s apartment.

I take my time, not really anticipating walking in on Ramon and Maria if they happen to have gone over their time together. I should think about getting my own place if I’m going to stay in this city. I have to be cramping her style.

I find the apartment quiet, silent almost. There is a light on in the living room, but the rest of the place is dark. I glance down the hall, but see nothing. Either Ramon is gone of they’ve fallen asleep. Frowning, I think that I’d rather know that he’s gone than still in her bedroom. I chastise myself for that little spark of…jealousy? I snort – I can’t be jealous. There is nothing to be jealous of.

I pull off my jacket and drape it over the back of the easy chair. I’m on my way to get a glass of water when I feel something crunch beneath my shoes. Reaching over, I flip on the kitchen light and see glass, water and the wilting flowers strewn over the kitchen floor. Panic immediately burns through me and the silence in the apartment no longer seems like a good thing. There’s been a struggle.

“Maria?” I call, racing toward the hallway. “Maria!”

Stupid of me to not follow my intuition! Stupid of me to let that ass come back here alone with her!

“I’m in here, Max,” she calls, her voice calm.

I skid to a stop before the bathroom door and shove it open. Maria is in profile before the sink, running water over her hands. My gaze immediately goes to the water, which is turning pink as it flows over her skin.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, my breath coming hard.

“I cut myself,” she says casually.

My brow furrows as I take a step into the room. “How?”

“I was trying to clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

Why is she so relaxed about this? Maybe I’ve overreacted and she simply knocked the vase off the table. Am I becoming an overprotective asshole?

But then she turns to look at me and anger boils in my blood immediately. The left side of her face is one big bruise and her lip is split. There is also a cut above her eyebrow, but it’s not deep as the blood has already coagulated.

Maria’s eyes dart away shamefully. “Ramon was a little upset.”

I’m clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw aches. I’ll kill him.

“Can you help me?” she asks, barely able to meet my gaze. “I can’t walk around like this again.”

Again? Her eyes pop open wide as she realizes she’s let the cat out of the bag. This has happened before? My mind skips back to high school, railroad tracks and another friend asking me to cover up the evidence of physical abuse. I shouldn’t have done it then and I won’t do it now. I won’t do it because the cycle will just continue and there will be no Nasedo to come to Maria’s rescue.

I shake my head. “No, I won’t do that, Maria.”

Her mouth drops open in disbelief. “Max, I can’t…”

I use her own words as an argument. “You can’t change what has happened by covering it up. Get your coat – we’re going to file a police report.”

She looks at the floor. I know she doesn’t want to do it.

“When we get back,” I tell her, trying to control my rage enough to be supportive of her in this difficult time. “When we get back, I’ll help you fix that. But for now you have to do something, Maria. I want you to file the police report and ask for a restraining order.”

She continues to look at the tiles. I step forward and put my arm around her shoulders.

“I’m coming with you,” I say gently. “I won’t make you do it alone.”

People on the train look at me accusingly. I guess they assume that I’ve done this to her, even though she’s sitting tight against me, her head on my shoulder. I stare back at them, refusing to look away in shame. I have enough anger raging inside of me that I could probably beat the snot out of any one of them if they accused me openly.

The looks at the police station don’t get much better. The station is full of drunks and prostitutes and several bloody young men I assume were involved in a bar fight. I tighten my grip around Maria’s shoulders, letting her know I’m right beside her. The Roswell Sheriff’s Department was never this busy at any time of the night. With the mayhem around us, I’m wondering if we should have waited until morning to do this. But by then maybe her resolve will have waned and being here would never have happened.

“It’s okay,” I whisper against her ear. “I’m here.”

Eventually, after the drunks and the bar fighters are disbursed, a burly officer comes to get us. He leads us over to his desk, all the while exuding an air of apathy. I think I hate him, too. He takes down the particulars and Maria’s account of what happened tonight. I hate hearing it, I hate hearing how that bastard struck her.

“We’ll need to document the injuries,” the officer says without even looking up from his papers.

“Okay,” Maria says. Her tone is a little nervous.

“Do you have any that can’t be seen without removing your clothes?”

She nods and my head whips in her direction in surprise. She does? She never mentioned it and I hadn’t noticed any difference in her movements.

The officer looks over the top of his glasses and just blurts out the next question insensitively. “Were you raped?”

My head swivels between the officer and Maria and I’m sure my eyes are huge. I can’t wait for her answer because she hasn’t mentioned that, either.

She shakes her head.

As relief floods me, the officer picks up his phone and calls for a female officer to take the pictures. Shortly, a kindly woman with a camera stops by the desk.

“Come with me, sweetie,” she says gently to Maria and I want to kiss the woman for showing even an ounce of sympathy.

Maria looks at me uncertainly, so I give her a smile and help her off with her coat. The woman chats cheerfully with Maria as she leads her away, down the hall, out of my sight.

When I return my attention to the officer, he’s staring unblinkingly at me. Huh. Two can play this game. I’ve spent most of my life staring across a police station desk, it seems. And I’ve always won. I meet his gaze and remain expressionless. I’ve been tortured by the FBI, jackass – you’ll never break me.

Finally, he gives in, but his assault is far from over. “Is she covering for you, pretty boy? Did you hit her?”

Pretty boy? I shake my head mutely.

He doesn’t look convinced. He gestures toward my lap with his chin. “Let me see your hands.”

I hold them up silently, so that he can see my knuckles are unmarred. He grunts something unintelligible.

“Either way,” he says, “I want to finish the interview without your being here. Go wait in the lobby.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of arguing or even commenting. I simply get up, Maria’s jacket draped over my arm, and go to wait with the hookers and drunks. I like it better out here anyway – my dislike for law enforcement will never go away.

Through the window, I see Maria return to her seat before the officer’s desk. She looks around for me, then settles into her seat and finishes filing the report. Half an hour later, she meets me in the lobby. It’s after three in the morning now and she looks exhausted. I help her on with her jacket, then put my arm around her shoulders and lead her out to the street.

“Where are you hurt?” I ask after we’ve walked a couple of blocks.

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter – my clothes cover it up.”

There is so much meaning in that short sentence that it momentarily renders me speechless. Wounds don’t matter if you can’t see them – that’s basically what she’s said. I know she’s speaking of physical wounds, but is she also subconsciously speaking in metaphor? What other wounds is Maria hiding beneath her cool, collected exterior? How many other men have hurt her? How many times has Ramon hurt her?

“They do matter,” I finally tell her. “If you’re hurting, then I’ll take care of it. Where are you hurt?”

She looks up at me, her green eyes that of an injured six-year-old girl. “Just some bruises.”

“Tell me where,” I prompt her gently as we stop at the train platform.

Silent, she touches her ribs and I get a mental picture of muscular Ramon slamming his fist into her side. My blood starts to boil, but I know I have to keep control of my anger if only to help her through this night.

“It’s okay,” I say, rubbing her shoulder. “We’ll take care of it.”

More stares on the train. I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her close to me, trying to absorb her pain. All the while I think about revenge, about blasting Ramon into ten million little pieces. I know I can’t do that, but an alien can dream, can’t he?

Back at the apartment, Maria enters first and I follow. I close the door quietly behind us and wait for her to come to me so I can heal her wounds. But she remains with her back to me, motionless and silent. I swallow hard and circle her so that I’m standing before her. For the first time all night, her stoic façade crumbles away and she begins to tremble.

My heart breaking in two, I reach for her and draw her to me, holding her tightly against my chest, protecting her from the cruel creatures of the world. My anger turns to grief as her sobs fill the apartment.

But I know tomorrow my anger will return and I will have to deal with it.

tbc

Part Twelve

Please don’t cry, Maria…

I hold her tighter, trying to squeeze the pain out of her. I lay my cheek against hers and immediately feel the wetness of her tears.

“It’s okay,” I tell her quietly. I hear her raggedly draw in a breath against my ear. “Don’t cry.”

With my right hand, I reach up and wipe the tears from her cheek, in the process removing the bruise and abrasion there. Then I pull back and rest my forehead against hers, taking her face between my hands.

“Don’t cry,” I repeat, feeling a lump form in my throat. With my thumb, I brush across the corner of her lip, healing the split in her soft skin. “No one’s going to hurt you any more.”

I want her to believe that. I want her to know that not every guy out there is like Ramon. I want her to trust again, and I want her to believe she deserves better. I don’t know how to convince her, how to heal her pain, but I do know that her lips are dangerously close to mine.

I tell myself it’s only a maneuver to make her feel attractive, to boost her esteem. I tell myself that I’m only trying to comfort her. But when my lips touch hers, it’s a different story. Kissing Mae was sweet and adventurous – kissing Maria is quite unexpected. Something clicks and the world seems a little different than it did a few moments ago. I feel something jump right in the center of my gut, a twist of nervous tension that hasn’t been there in years. It both delights and terrifies me. Her tears subside as she actively joins in our exploration of one another.

Even though she is entrancing me, I haven’t forgotten my mission. I’ve managed to heal the wounds to her face without it being a traumatic event – now I need to concentrate on those ribs. Forcing a smidge of coherence into my brain, I slide my hand down her arm and first pick up her hand; I linger there only briefly as I heal the cut she sustained while trying to clean up the broken vase. Then I deftly work my way over to her ribs. I can detect the injury there, but for some reason I’m unable to isolate it, to really grab hold of it.

Thoughts of kissing Maria slip away as concern floods my mind. I pull away from her and look down at my hand. Maybe her shirt is in the way.

“Let me see,” I whisper to her.

Her green eyes wide and her breath a little quick, she lifts her shirt to the bottom of her bra. I stoop a bit, taking in the oddly-shaped bruise. It doesn’t look like a fist caused this, but I can’t really put my finger on what did. I lay my hand against it and concentrate – nothing. Now I’m genuinely worried. I think maybe the damage here is more severe than I had anticipated. One thing that puzzles me is that she acts like it doesn’t hurt. How can that be? It is just shock? That’s double-troubling as it may mean she’s bleeding internally.

I straighten and look seriously into her eyes. “Maria, I can’t heal this on the surface.”

She looks like she’s about to cry again. I take her face in my hands again.

“I didn’t say I can’t do it,” I stress. “I’m saying that I can’t do it without connecting to you.” I give a shrug of apology. “I don’t know what I might see – I can’t control that.”

She stares at me for a long moment and I know she’s weighing the pros and cons of letting me in. I don’t know if this is new for her, I don’t know if she and Michael ever established a connection or not, but eventually she nods her head.

Connecting and healing always drains me. “You should lie down,” I tell her, thinking that taking away the pressure of standing might make this work better.

She bites her lip, then leads me down the hallway. I’m a little nervous about this, partially because my lips are still tingling from her kiss. But I also don’t know what I’ll see – I’m almost afraid of what I’ll see. Liz is the last person I connected with – I never thought I’d connect with another.

In the bedroom, Maria lays down on her bed after turning on the lamp on her nightstand. I kneel on my knees beside the bed, her abdomen eye-level. Reaching out, I pull up her shirt and I will my hand not to tremble as I place it over her ribs. Beneath my hand, I can feel her heart beating unbelievably fast. Is it shock, or fright, or something else?

“Don’t be afraid,” I tell her, meeting her gaze as a reassurance. “Just close your eyes and relax. It’s not going to hurt.”

I give myself the same pep talk internally. I let my eyes drift shut and concentrate only on Maria, on the massive bruise beneath my hand. I shut out the light on the end table, the feel of her heart, the sound of her breath. I close my senses to everything. I have one short moment of fear that I won’t be able to get in, but then I feel a dizzying, swirling sensation and I know I’m on my way.

Most recent events come first. I see Maria walking through her apartment door, her voice strained as she argues with Ramon. I hear the nasty names he calls her – slut, bitch, fucking whore! She turns to address him, but he blind-sides her. She falls into the table, knocking the vase to the tile, then crumbles to the floor immediately; before she can even react, he plants his boot in her side. He didn’t hit her – he kicked her.

Before I can let the awful truth of that distract me, more images come, quicker this time. I see nameless, faceless men. I see myself naked, though something is amiss, certain details are close by incorrect. Then I realize that I’m not the one picturing myself that way – this is the way Maria has envisioned me nude. She’s been thinking about me naked?

That image is quickly replaced with the next – visions of Michael. Good times. Bad times. I see Liz alive…and dead. I feel Maria’s unbearable grief at having lost her best friend. I know what’s coming next and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I see blood – everywhere. I feel absolutely terrified as I look at myself through Maria’s eyes, three inches from death, lying in a sticky crimson pool. Then I hear her voice in my head.

Oh God, breathe, Max! Don’t leave me!

The power to heal kicks in and shoves aside all of those memory flashes. I’m inside of Maria’s body. I can feel her blood as it whooshes through her veins and I quickly search for the source of the problem. I find it in no time – a rip in her intestinal wall. Ramon kicked her with such force that the tissue tore as it was slammed into her spine. I clench my eyes tighter and will her tissues to heal, to close the wound and fade the bruise.

Then I’m out. I fall face-forward onto the mattress, my breath coming quickly and heavily. I want to forget what I saw in her head – I don’t want to feel the pain I’ve caused her, the pain others have caused her. But I can’t run from it – it’s a part of me now.

I feel small hands in my hair and I raise my head to look at Maria. Taking my arm, she helps me onto the bed with her. I’m utterly exhausted, so I just lay and stare at the ceiling. I don’t even realize I’m crying until she brushes tears away from my face.

“Why do you do it?” I ask her, my voice choked. “Why do you let them hurt you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “It’s not them. It’s only been Ramon.”

I roll my head to the side so I can look at her. “Why did you let him?”

“It only happened once before,” she says.

“Only once before?” I echo. I feel anger starting to twist in my chest. “Christ, Maria, wasn’t that enough?”

My voice is harsh and she recoils, almost like she’s afraid I’ll be the one to strike her next. Guilt rushes through me as I realize this is the wrong time for this conversation. Blowing out a sigh to calm myself, I reach for her and pull her against my chest while I try to recover my strength.

“I’m sorry,” I say, attempting to diffuse the anger in my voice. “I just don’t like anyone hurting you.”

“I know,” she says, her voice muffled against my chest. Her body is rigid – my touch certainly hasn’t relaxed her.

We lay silently for a long while, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. Maria remains tense, her arms tucked against her body instead of returning my embrace. Eventually, she speaks.

“Please don’t judge me.”

I look down at the top of her head in surprise. “I don’t judge you, Maria.”

She lifts her head, her green eyes sad. “You want to,” she says.

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. I’m not holding any of your actions against you. I have no right.” Especially since she has held none of mine against me. “I just want you to be safe and happy.”

She works her mouth. “Is that why you kissed me? Do you think you’re the one to keep me safe and happy?” Her expression turns somber. “Or was it pity?”

“I didn’t kiss you out of pity,” I say immediately. There is nothing pitiful about this woman.

“Then why, Max?”

I can’t say it out loud. I can’t say that I’m attracted to her and that she was breaking my heart. I can’t tell her that I think maybe Mae-Ling was right – I am in love with someone other than my dead wife.

But maybe I don’t have to say it out loud. I can see it in Maria’s eyes – she already knows. I reach out and touch her smooth cheek.

“Should I be sorry?” I ask her quietly. I can feel the burning sensation returning to my eyes, waiting to spill unmanly tears onto my face.

Maria sits up and stares into her lap for a long moment. I can tell that she’s struggling with the same things I am – and they all center on Liz. If I hadn’t been married to Liz, if Liz hadn’t been Maria’s best friend, I have no doubt that Maria and I would be engaged in the act already. But it appears that guilt and uncertainty are the strongest contraceptives known to man.

I reach out and place my hand on her back, trying to sooth her. I make a slow circular motion and she turns to look at me. I see so much confusion and doubt in her eyes that it makes my heart lurch. Maria’s track record with guys pretty much sucks – and she has to think it’s ironic that maybe she’s found someone who will treat her right and she’s not allowed to have him.

“What are you thinking?” I ask her. I would feel so much better if she would just say something. I would feel so much better if she would admit that she’s starting to question her feelings for me as well.

But she avoids the subject entirely, closing the door on the chance we had to get it all out in the open. “I’m thinking that I didn’t thank you for helping me tonight, Max.”

Oh no. She’s retreating…I feel so much disappointment wash through me that it drains me of what strength I had left. What was I expecting? What did I think – that she’d throw her arms around me and we’d tumble right here and now?

She lifts the hem of her shirt and examines her flawless skin. “Thank you,” she says as she drops it.

I give her a tired smile and slide my hand up to her shoulder. Pulling her down beside me, I look at the clock – the sun will be up soon. We’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours. I put my arm around her and draw her close to me; she lays her head against my chest and this time seems to be a little more relaxed. Maybe that’s because she thinks she’s put the subject of our kiss firmly behind us, but I know for me that subject is far from closed. Not while I can still feel her and taste her on my lips, not while I still know she’s been thinking of me without clothing.

“Go to sleep,” I say against the top of her head, exhaustion commanding me to do the same. I need to regain my strength.

Because once it’s daylight, I’m dealing with Ramon.

tbc

Earth2Mama - you didn't have to wait long!


Part Thirteen

I awake alone. Not just in the bed, but alone in the whole apartment. A wave of sadness washes over me when I find her note on the table – some excuse about already having plans for the day. Until this moment, I had heard nothing of these plans. Not that Maria reports everything to me, but somewhere along the line one would think she would have mentioned them.

Sitting at the table, crunching my cereal, I stare straight ahead at the refrigerator. I’ve never been a vengeful man – I couldn’t even punish Tess for murdering Alex. But I’m older now and I have more anger in me than I ever imagined possible. While I was healing Maria’s wounds last night, it became blatantly clear to me that Ramon had left her for dead – even though she was up and moving around, she was in shock. She had a tear in her intestines; eventually peritonitis would have set in and she would have slowly poisoned herself to death. I can still feel him hurting her, I can still hear the awful things he called her. Maria is none of those things. Maria is sweet and kind and generous.

Of course, Maria is also absent and I now have no way of finding Ramon. I’m not sure how I planned to do that anyway. It’s not like I could just say, “Hey, Maria – how’s about you give me Ramon’s address so I can kill him?” But maybe if she were here, I could bait her for clues to his whereabouts.

I sigh heavily and look into my bowl of Wheaties, which is quickly getting soggy because of the length of time I’m taking to eat them. Why did she go? I can only imagine she’s freaking out about everything – the attack, the kiss, my questions. I shouldn’t have asked her anything about this apparent cycle of abuse last night. I should have waited until she wasn’t so upset.

That’s assuming that she didn’t flee because of the kiss. My stomach does a little turn and I drop my spoon into the bowl. Is that it? Is she that freaked by one small kiss?

One small kiss, my ass. Who am I kidding? There was nothing small about that kiss. I felt all of the emotion behind it and I know she did as well. I’m sure I’m having the same feelings of guilt she’s having – so why didn’t she just stay here so we could talk about it?

My cell phone rings and I jump, startled. I’m hoping it’s Maria calling to ask me to meet her somewhere for breakfast or something, so I answer it eagerly.

“Hi, Max.” It’s Isabel, sounding cheerful and cautious all at once.

I sit back in my chair. “Hi, Iz. It’s early there.”

“I know. I just…um…”

My brow furrows. “What’s wrong, Isabel?”

“Nothing. I just miss you. It’s stupid, really…” Her voice trails off with a self-conscious laugh.

“It’s not stupid,” I tell her.

“When…when do you think you’ll be coming home?” There is hope in her voice. Now that I know she hasn’t been my shepherd these past years, I can see her plea for the honesty it is.

“I’m not ready to come home,” I admit. That’s truthful as well. I still have to resolve things with Maria – and I need to at least strongly threaten Ramon. “Why don’t you come to Chicago?” The invitation pops out before I can even think about it; I don’t regret it once it’s out there.

“Really?” Her voice is uncertain.

“Why not?” I’m liking the idea better and better – I miss her as well. “Maria’s place is small, but I could help put you up in a hotel for the week or however long you want to stay.”

“I don’t know, Max…”

“I won’t push you,” I tell her gently. “But I would like to see you, too. If you have the time, I’d love it if you’d come.”

There’s a pause, but when she speaks again I can tell she’s buying the idea. “Okay, why not? I’ll call around for flights and get back to you later today.”

“Sounds great, Iz.”

“Yeah. Okay, I better start calling airlines.”

She hangs up and I feel a little better already. But my mood swiftly shifts back to Ramon. How do I find him?

I’m as blind as a newborn sometimes - the answer is right before me and I've been staring at it since I woke up. Many magnets adorn Maria’s refrigerator, some of them holding reminder notes. As I survey the magnets, I realize that the majority of them are from the same place – a restaurant within the near vicinity. Ramon works there – I know it as sure as I know the sun came up this morning. Jumping to my feet, I grab one of the magnets and shove it in my pocket.

I find the restaurant easily as it is only a few blocks away from Casper’s. The whole scene plays out in my head – Ramon gets off work, goes to grab a beer and sees Maria singing for the first time. He sweet talks her and they start to date. The fact that he made himself seem trust-worthy to her re-ignites the rage inside of me. Instinctively, I round the building and find him throwing garbage into a dumpster. It’s too easy – the gods must hate him, too.

As he turns around, I grab him by the collar and shove him hard into the metal side of the dumpster. The air rushes out of him in one quick burst. I pin him against the dumpster with my body, my face only inches from his.

“Listen to me, you miserable fuck,” I spit, my teeth clenched tightly together. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will make you sorry you were ever born. Do you understand me?”

I see a momentary flash of fear in his eyes, then the cocky young man returns. It infuriates me even more and I give him another shove.

“Do you understand me!” I bark.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, looking away. “I understand you.”

I stare him down for a long moment, then decide to move on before someone comes across us. “You’re getting off easy,” I tell him, releasing my grip. “I should rip your fucking guts out.”

He rolls his eyes, but I decide to let it slide. I turn on my heel to leave, but not before I see him reach for his crotch.

“Hey, sissy boy,” he calls when I’m a few steps away. “Why don’t you blow me? Let’s see if you’re any better at it than your whore.”

I felt blind rage only once – when Agent Pierce threatened to harm Liz. And it truly is blind. I see nothing, I hear nothing. All I can feel is the anger pent up inside of me and the urge to make Ramon pay for what he has said and done.

Ramon pays for that and much more. He pays for hurting Maria and calling her nasty names. He pays for being arrogant and domineering. He pays for my wife dying too young. He pays for my failed suicide attempt. He pays for my treating my sister poorly for the past five years. He pays for every injustice I can think of – not only his, but mine too.

I leave him alive, but a shell of what he once was. He’ll live and I doubt he’ll be crippled or anything, but he will think twice before he harms anyone else. Panting, I look down at him crumpled on the ground, moaning. I resist the urge to kick him in the ribs – not taking the cheap shot is what separates me from the Ramons of the world.

“You got off lucky,” I tell him again, then stagger away from him and toward the street.

Before I walk back into public, I use my powers to clean the splattered blood from my jacket. I search for injuries and find I have none – I don’t think he ever landed a punch. I remember nothing of it, only the uncontrollable fury and the need to harm him. My right hand aches and I know something is broken. I cradle it against me as I walk back to Maria’s apartment.

I don’t feel any better. I feel worse, if that’s possible. I lost control and Max Evans never loses control. I can’t stop the tears that flood my eyes; passersby look at me like I’m a crazy man, stumbling along with one arm tucked against my chest. At Maria’s apartment, I take the stairs because I don’t want to run into anyone in the elevator. Five flights up, my heart is pounding in my chest and my legs burn.

Unfortunately, Maria is home. When I walk in the door, her mouth drops open and she jumps to her feet.

“My God!” she cries. “What happened to you!”

I can’t answer her. I’m too busy crying and thinking that my hand hurts. She’s before me, wrapping her arms around me. I can feel the fear coming off her in waves.

“What happened, Max?” she demands.

I can’t have her in my arms right now, warm and caring. I push her away from me without malice.

“I was in a fight,” I tell her, wiping angrily at my tears.

“A fight?!” Her voice rises in pitch, in disbelief. “Who were you fighting with?” Even as the words leave her mouth, I can see that she realizes she already knows the answer. “Oh, Max, you didn’t.”

I nod. “I did.”

She lets out a snort and throws her hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, Max! How could you?”

Her reprimanding tone sets off explosion number two. “How could I, Maria? How couldn’t I? Maybe you want to let him walk all over you and call you dirty names, but I don’t have to let him get away with it!”

Her body becomes rigid and I can see that none of her experiences from the night before have given her any sense of caution when it comes to arguing. Then again, maybe she knows that our argument won’t end with her bruised and bleeding.

“You’re better than that, Max!” she yells.

“I’m not!” I insist. “I feel things, too, Maria! Sometimes I get angry and want to punch someone! Why do I always have to be different? Why do I have to contain my anger while the rest of you vent it off and all is peachy? Why do I always have to be the fucking saint!”

The room is silent save for the fury of my breathing. She looks terrified now.

“I will not stand by while someone hurts you, Maria!” I jab a finger in her direction. “If that means that I knock the shit out of every Ramon in the world, then that’s the way it is! I love you too much to let you get hurt!”

Not even my breathing breaks the silence in the room as I have shocked both of us into motionlessness. My hand and my temples pound in the wake of my outburst. Maria’s eyes are round, her lips form a perfect O. Shit.

I just said I love her, didn’t I?

I feel all of the anger draining from my body, leaving in its wake a sense of remorse. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with her. I shouldn’t have beaten the snot out of her boyfriend.

Clearing her throat, she breaks our gaze and reaches for her coat. “I need to go out for awhile,” she says, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll be back later.”

I watch her go. There is nothing I can do it stop her. I stand in the middle of her living room, an emotional train wreck, long after she’s gone.

Once the trembling in my limbs subsides and the guilt starts to kick in full-force, I sink to the couch and stare into the distance for another eternity. The pain in my hand eventually prompts me to move, healing the fractures and removing the abrasions. How wonderful – I can also skirt the law since I’ve removed any evidence that I’ve just beaten someone within an inch of his life.

Daylight turns to dusk and still I sit. As dusk turns to night, I flick my fingers and the lamp at the end of the couch jumps to life. Maria still hasn’t returned. Even though I know it’s improbable, I picture her sitting by Ramon’s bedside, begging forgiveness. I’ve become the monster in this story.

My cell phone rings and it doesn’t even startle me.

“Hi, Max!” Isabel, genuinely chipper this time.

“Hi, Iz.”

“What’s wrong? You sound down.” I imagine her brow furrowing.

“No, nothing like that,” I lie. “Just tired – long day. What did you find out?”

“I can be there Tuesday,” she says happily.

“Great,” I say. I grab a pen and scribble down her flight information. “I’ll get a room,” I tell her. “I can’t wait to see you, Iz.”

“Me neither. I’ll be seeing you, Max!”

I hang up and stare into the fireplace. I’ll get her a room with two beds – because I think I’m going to be needing one of them.

tbc

Thanks to all of your comments! I worked late and it's past bedtime here, so I will comment on comments tomorrow.

Another sort of transitional chapter. Mae reappears (and she's cryptic as ever )!


Part Fourteen

Sunday is weird.

Maria returns in the wee hours of the morning, alone, and goes straight to bed. Then she gets up and goes to church because she knows I have no desire to follow her there. She’s gone most of the day and when she returns she goes straight to her bedroom.

I, in the meantime, sit on the couch and look bewildered. At least I guess that’s how I look. She doesn’t ignore me entirely – she does at least grunt in my direction while she whizzes past. I’m not sure how to be the ice breaker, and worse I’m not sure if I’m even welcome in her home anymore. But there is one thing for certain – I have to tell her Isabel is coming to visit. I won’t disappear on her without a word like she’s done to me the last two days.

So I tread lightly down the hallway and peer into her bedroom. Maria is lying on her stomach on the bed, her head turned toward the door. One hand is by her face, playing with her lip. When her eyes settle on me, she sits up quickly and swings her legs over the side of the bed. I have a horrible feeling that it’s a defensive maneuver – she needs to be able to run for the door. Her gaze lands on the floor and stays there.

“Got a minute?” I ask her quietly.

She nods her head.

“Isabel called yesterday. She’s coming to visit this week.”

At that news, Maria looks up at me, her expression a little surprised.

“I reserved a room for her in Oak Brook,” I explain and give a nervous smile. “I hear the shopping is better out there and…uh, Isabel likes…to shop.” My voice drifts away stupidly as I realize Maria probably doesn’t give a shit what Isabel likes to do.

Still mute, she nods her head again.

“I might spend a couple of nights with her,” I announce, wait for a response of some kind. I get none. “I miss her, ya know?”

Another nod.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t carry on one-sided conversations that are going to get us absolutely nowhere. Taking a chance, I enter her bedroom and sit down slowly beside her. She doesn’t move or shy away, but she also doesn’t look at me. I sit a safe distance away, our bodies close but not touching.

“Maria,” I say gently. “I think we need to talk about what happened.”

She looks at me uncertainly for a moment, then returns her gaze to the floor.

God, this is so hard. I draw in a patient breath. “Okay, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I have things I want to say.” I wait a beat, weighing the situation, then decide it’s safe to continue. “First of all, I’m sorry I raised my voice to you. You don’t deserve to be spoken to that way. I won’t do it again. I can’t apologize for fighting with Ramon, Maria, because I don’t regret it. I regret losing my temper and taking it so far, but I don’t regret hurting him. I meant what I said – I won’t stand by while someone hurts you.”

She bites her lip and I know she’s hearing every word I’m saying. I feel so nervous about finishing this conversation, but it has to be done. Talking about beating someone to a pulp is easy compared to talking about my feelings.

“I know you’re probably thinking that my saying I loved you was just something that happened in the heat of the moment,” I begin. “But I’m not sure it is. I’m not sure what I feel, but I know I feel something. I don’t know how you feel and I wouldn’t presume to make an assumption. But I know that I’ve been thinking about Liz and how she would feel to know that I’m trying to work out my feelings for you. It’s not an easy thing to deal with – she meant so much to both of us. It feels like a betrayal, but then again it doesn’t. I’m a little confused. And if you’re sharing even a tenth of what I’m feeling, then you’re confused too. I’m not going to pressure you. That’s the last thing I want to do. I just want you to know how I feel without the yelling and screaming this time.”

Taking a chance, I reach over and pick up her hand. Her eyes follow my movements as I clasp her cool fingers in mine.

“You said earlier that I was better than Ramon. So are you, Maria. You are none of the things that he called you. You are sweet and generous and kind. If it’s not me, then find someone who can love you for who you are. Because you deserve to be loved, Maria. You deserve to be happy. Don’t forget that.”

I want to kiss her on the side of the head, but I’m not sure if that’s too intimate a gesture for her. So I pick up her hand and lay a kiss against the back of it. I caress her soft skin, then return her hand to her lap and leave her room.

I make my way back to the living room and claim the couch. I watch late-night television into the wee hours, but I see none of the flickering images. I’m too engrossed in my inner turmoil. My only bit of peace comes when I remember that Isabel is coming in a couple of days.

I must fall asleep at some point because when I awake the TV is off and the sun is shining. Shielding my eyes, I glance at the clock – it’s already after nine in the morning. Somehow, Maria has arisen, got ready for work and left without waking me. Fearful that there is a Dear John letter on the table, I approach it slowly and find nothing.

I spend the next hour sitting at the bay window, watching birds migrate south for the winter. I’d forgotten that happens in colder climates. I feel uneasy and there will be no Isabel for another day. I have to do something with myself.

Impulsively, I grab the phonebook and look up the number to Maria’s company. I quickly dial the number and wait for an answer; the receptionist is perky.

“May I speak to Mae-Ling, please?” I ask, clearing the morning frog from my voice.

“Which Mae-Ling would you like to speak to, sir?”

Which Mae-Ling? I blink. They have more than one?

Then there’s a hideous cackle on the other end of the line. “Ah! I just love that! Hang on and I’ll connect you!”

While I wait, I push my eyebrows back into place. I get a whole new perspective of Maria’s place of employment. I can see they’re a professional bunch…

But there’s nothing unprofessional about Mae when she answers the phone. Her voice is smooth, like velvet. “Mae-Ling Xen, how may I help you?”

I have a moment of doubt, but decide to push on with my quest. “Hi, Mae. It’s Max. Uh, Evans. Do you remember me?”

“Remember you?!” The professionalism is gone from her voice and I can imagine her lips spreading into that ever-present smile. “How could I forget that kisser?”

I laugh and my ears turn red even though she can’t see me. “Your, uh, receptionist said there was more than one of you.”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, she thinks she’s funny. So, what’s up, Max?”

“Uh, is Maria around?”

There’s a brief pause. “I don’t see her. But I could go look for-“

“No, that’s okay,” I say. “I didn’t want her to know I was talking to you.”

“Oh?” Tons of intrigue in her tone.

“Yeah. Long story. Listen – would you like to meet me for lunch today?”

“Of course I would!” She gives me directions to where she usually eats her lunch – in the courtyard of a neighboring office building – and we hang up.

I quickly shower and dress, then grab the bus to head for our meeting. I find Mae sitting by a fountain looking like she stepped from a fashion magazine. In daylight, her hair has dark red streaks in it and she wears sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright sun. She’s wearing a fitted suit and a pair of high-heeled shoes. But the thing that really grabs my attention is the fact that she’s eating a package of HoHo’s – and washing them down with a Pepsi. That’s one thing you wouldn’t see in the fashion magazine…

“Hey,” I say as I join her.

“Hey!” she practically squeals, standing up to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Laughing, she checks my back to make sure she didn’t leave HoHo residue behind.

“That’s some lunch,” I say playfully as I sit down beside her.

“Isn’t it?” she says, eyeing her last roll with lust, oblivious to my barb. “God, I love sugar! Mmm! So, what brings you into the business district, Mr. Evans?”

“Needed to get out,” I say.

“I’ll bet you did,” she comments, taking a swig from the Pepsi bottle.

I eye her curiously. After she swallows, she gives a shrug.

“I’m not blind,” she laughs. “I saw her face when she came in to work this morning. What did you do to her?” There’s no accusation in her tone, only humored disbelief.

I shrug sheepishly. “I told her I love her.” The words come out weak, like I’m afraid to say them too loud.

Mae studies me for a moment, her eyes peeking over the tops of her sunglasses. She chews the last of her cake and swallows it down. “Wow,” she says. “Guess I was right.”

I look down between my feet at the cement. “Yeah, it looks like it. It’s just complicated.”

“How so?” She leans over and tosses the HoHo wrapper into the trash, then folds her hands between her knees.

“I don’t know what Maria told you,” I begin.

“Nothing,” she insists. “She’s a private one.”

I can believe that. She’s obviously been keeping it a secret that Ramon was abusing her. “Well, Maria was my wife’s best friend.”

“Go on.”

I blink a couple of times. “That's the complication.” I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for her.

“Why?”

“Why?” I echo. “Because Liz wouldn’t like it if I hooked up with Maria, I don’t think.”

“Where is Liz now?”

She really doesn’t know anything. I frown slightly. “Liz is dead.”

“I’m sorry for that,” she says, her regret genuine. “But she’s moved on to another plane, Max. She has a different existence now. I’m willing to bet she would want both of you to be happy. I mean, if she was married to you and best friend to Maria, she’s gotta be a wonderful person, doesn’t she?” The smile returns, wider than ever.

I smile with her. “She was.”

“No, Max, she is. She lives on somewhere.”

“Do you believe that, Mae?”

“I do,” she says with a short nod of her head. “I definitely do.” She turns her head to one side. “She speaks to you,” she observes.

“I wish,” I answer wistfully.

“No, she does. I can tell.” She reaches down and taps the front of my shirt. “She speaks to you here.”

Who is this peculiar young woman and how can she tell so much about people she’s just met? I’ve always thought that maybe Liz was guiding me – like at the airport when I almost fled – but now Mae-Ling, an outsider, has put voice to that thought.

“You’re lucky,” she says, smiling widely.

Reaching down, she picks up my hand and her smile fades away. With her free hand, she tugs off her sunglasses and studies me intently for a moment.

“What?” I ask her.

“You have a shadow of death about you,” she says, her voice awed.

Well, that can’t be a good thing…

“What do you mean?” I ask, worried about what her response might be.

“I’ve never met anyone who had one,” she says, no less stunned.

“Are you telling me I’m going to die?” I ask her, suddenly worried that the happiness Liz wants for me will be short-lived.

She shakes her head. “No, it means you’ve already been dead.” Her dark eyes are serious. “You have, haven’t you?”

Well, technically yes – many years ago on another planet. I was dead for a long time before I lived again.

“Recently,” she says. “Only a few years.” Her eyes drift to my hands and she abruptly pushes up the sleeve of my jacket, revealing the scar beneath. “You were on the other side.” She’s no less fascinated.

I think about that one moment of time, when I swore that Liz was before me, inviting me to join her. Years have passed and I was very sick at the time I thought I’d seen her – I’ve somewhat grown to think it all a hallucination. I relished in it, of course, but I was never really sure it was real.

But Mae seems to be sure.

“How do you know?” I ask her.

“I can just tell.” She releases my hand slowly and puts her sunglasses back on. “It’s not a bad thing. I just find it fascinating. I’d love to hear about it sometime.”

I nod my head numbly. Mae switched moods on a dime – she went from semi-freaked to her old smiley self within seconds.

“I should get back,” she says, standing up and wiping off her bottom.

“I’d walk you, but…”

“You’re afraid Maria will run into us.” She waves me off with a hand. “Not a problem, Max. But, hey, I did forget to tell you one thing.”

Other than I have a shadow of death following me? “What’s that?” I ask her.

“Maria told me this morning that Ramon is being deported – apparently he was in the country illegally.”

I want to feel sympathetic for him, but I can’t. Then the irony hits me – Ramon was an illegal alien.

tbc

Part Fifteen

O’Hare is more hectic in the middle of the day than it was when I comfortably landed here late in the evening. I thought the masses of people were astounding then – but that’s nothing compared to the hoards that are here now. I dodge people and luggage carts as I read Isabel’s flight information from a scrap piece of paper. I’m starting to get worried – the concourses never seem to end and with this mess of bodies I’m afraid I’ll be late to her gate.

But in typical Max Evans responsible fashion, I’m early – and her flight is late. It was a bit foggy this morning and apparently there are a dozen planes circling the airport waiting for their chance to land. I claim a spot facing the windows so I can watch the planes arrive and depart.

I’ve decided to stay with Iz, at least for tonight. I left Maria a note on the table, explaining my intentions and including the number to the hotel; not that I expect her to call. We ate an uncomfortable dinner together last night after she got home from work and then she went to bed. I used the excuse of “staying up to watch TV” and slept on the couch.

While I wait for my sister’s arrival, I ponder my feelings for Maria, as I’ve done for the last three days. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so excited and confused all at once. With Liz, I took one look at her and knew I loved her. There was no confusion – only excitement from wanting her and anxiety from knowing she knew nothing of me. That was complicated, but not as complicated as being in love with her best friend.

Am I in love? I’m having a hard time telling for sure. My feelings for Maria are different than they were – and still are – for Liz. But I’m not sure if that’s just the effect of time or something else. What I do know is that I want to figure it out. I want to try to date Maria and see where it might lead. Maybe nowhere. Maybe somewhere wonderful.

I hadn’t planned on any of this. When I got on that plane in New Mexico, I think I was running from everything that was stagnant and rotten in my life; if I never go back there, I won’t be heartbroken. But I don’t think I ever considered why I chose to come here. There are plenty of other places I could have gone, but I chose to track down someone I hadn’t seen nor heard from in three years. Most people would think that crazy behavior.

But what if I didn’t really come here of my own free will? What if Mae is right and Liz does talk to me? What if Liz sent me here, to heal my soul and Maria’s as well? Mentally, I imagine Liz looking down on us, seeing both of us so lost, and putting into motion her plan to help us. I’m not sure how rational or realistic the thought is, but I like the idea of it.

An hour passes and still no Isabel. The other people waiting with me start to become a little hostile, complaining loudly to the desk attendant. I ignore them, pick up a newspaper and leaf through it. When I’m bored with that, I buy some popcorn and continue watching the planes through the window. Another hour passes and the angry mob has become the deflated mob – they’re now silent and sitting wherever they can find a seat. Their faces are sullen, their chins resting in the palms of their hands.

I don’t feel so glum. I can’t wait to see Isabel, and I know eventually she will be here. That makes me happy enough that I can tolerate the long wait. As long as the plane lands safely and I see her come through that door, that’s all that matters.

And the plane does eventually land. The quieted mob is suddenly alive again, buzzing excitedly. I toss the paper and empty popcorn box into the trash and hover near the back of the crowd as it moves to the end of the velvet ropes cordoning off the jet way. After a few long minutes, the first passengers come through the door, followed shortly by squeals of happiness. For some inexplicable reason, it brings tears to my eyes.

Then she’s before me, tall, blond, as beautiful as she’s always been. Her eyes are also moist as she drops her carry on bag to embrace me. I squeeze her tightly and she gives a startled laugh – the last time I saw her, I wasn’t so friendly. I will regret that until the day I die.

Eventually I have to pull away from her so that we can move out of the way of other arriving passengers. I hoist her bag over my shoulder and put my other arm around her shoulders.

“You look great,” I tell her as I lead her toward the baggage claim.

“So do you,” she agrees, and I can tell that she’s holding back a bit. I don’t blame her – she’s probably wondering if I’m going to be abrupt and unfriendly to her like I was in Roswell.

“How many bags do you have?” I ask, trying to fill the void.

“Just one.”

I lift my eyebrows. “That’s it?” I know that Isabel is a heavy traveler. She needs a bag just for her shoes.

“I can only stay for three days, Max,” she says apologetically, then looks away quickly like she’s waiting for a reprimand. Christ – have I been that much of a prick to her?

“Oh,” I say, squishing the disappointment in my tone. “Then I guess we’ll have to make them a full three days.”

Her head snaps in my direction, her expression disbelieving, then she beams. It does my heart wonders.

I rent us a car, simply because Oak Brook is a suburb and has less public transit than does the city. With our own transportation, we will be able to come and go as we please. At the rental counter, I’m waited on by the same woman who rented me the Buick two weeks ago; she looks at Isabel with disdain. I have to wonder if Iz makes all women feel so inferior…

The best thing about O’Hare is that it’s a twenty minute drive from Oak Brook. I wanted to rent a convertible or something sporty, but it’s now October and the wind has turned chilly. It would have been great to cruise the Express with the top down, but instead we have an SUV. At least it’s better than the family Buick.

We drive to the hotel and check Isabel into her room. She’s amazed by the size of the suite and surprised that I booked such a nice space for her. I don’t think that she realizes I will be pampering her for the rest of my life to make up for the last five years and the undeserved hatred I tossed her way. Material things can’t buy forgiveness – but if simple gestures make her happy, then maybe I’ve healed some of the wound. Maybe it’s not important that she forgives me. Maybe it’s only important that her soul is soothed.

We do a little bit of shopping, but I can tell that she’s tired from traveling. She explains that they actually got to Chicago early, but then circled for a seeming eternity. I suggest a late lunch so she can relax and settling in; we end up at Magiano’s.

“What have you been doing?” she asks after the waiter takes our order. “You’ve been here a few weeks now.”

I sip my water. “This and that,” I say. I don’t want to tell her about beating up illegal aliens and healing Maria’s war wounds. There are some things that will stay between me and Maria forever. “Maria is singing at a club near her apartment on Fridays.”

Isabel looks surprised and happy all at once. “Really? That’s great.”

“It is. And the crowds love her, Isabel. She always gets the most applause and begged to sing more. It’s really something.”

She gives me a curious, amused look and takes a piece of bread from the basket. “It sounds like it.” She butters the bread, then lets it drop onto her plate, untouched. “Alright, we might as well get it out in the open.”

Uh…huh? Get what out in the open? This can’t be good. Maybe she’s finally decided to ask me why I’ve been a jackass to her.

“What’s that?” I manage to ask without choking.

“I have something to tell you.” She clears her throat and picks up her napkin, refolds it and puts it back into her lap. “I don’t know how else to say it than just to say it.”

My heart is starting to thump a little quicker with an unsettling sense of anxiety. “Okay. You can just say it.”

Her dark eyes dart away for a moment, then she meets my gaze directly. “Max, I’ve met someone.”

Oh…huh? That’s not what I expected her to say and it momentarily throws me. Isabel, or course, takes my silence as disapproval and turns her gaze to her lap; her hands toy with her napkin again. Jerk – say something!

“That’s wonderful,” I say quickly. “Really wonderful. Who is he?”

She’s looking at me a little less timidly now, confident I’m not going to rip her a new one. “His name is Stephan. He’s a pharmacist.”

“Oh. How did you meet him?” I force myself to rip off a piece of the bread and spread some butter on it. I’m startled at her revelation, but I’m trying desperately to cover it up to put her at ease.

“At the pharmacy,” she says, that old Isabel “duh!” tone to her voice.

I have to laugh. “Imagine that,” I say.

She smiles, but her expression turns uneasy. “Is that all you’re going to say, Max?”

I swallow the bite of bread I had taken. “Congratulations?” I offer.

She shakes her head. “Thank you for that, but that’s not what I meant.” She looks into her lap again, plays with the napkin. “I mean, aren’t you going to say anything about…other things?”

I chew the bread and shake my head. “Nope.”

Isabel looks surprised beyond words. No lecture? No order to stay single her whole life? Not from this guy. “Why not?” she breathes.

“Why?” I counter. “You’re an adult, Isabel. You’re free to make your own choices. I’m glad you’ve found someone and I hope he makes you happy.”

Her smile is tentative, like she doesn’t really want to believe I won’t blind-side her at some later date. Then she cocks her head to the side and her eyes crease at the corners as she smiles.

“You’ve found someone too, Max.”

Huh? I stop chewing and look at her like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Christ – can she still read me that well?

“Why do you think that?” I ask, wiping my mouth with my napkin. Funny that the Evans children hide their discomfort behind dinner linens.

“Because you look ten years younger than you did when I last saw you,” she says, sitting back in her chair. The confident Isabel has returned. “I can see something in your eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time, Max.”

I give a nervous laugh and sip my water.

“So, who is she?”

My turn to stare into my lap. Am I ready to reveal this? Or maybe I don’t have a choice – it seems like she already knows. I glance at her, then away, then back. “You know her.”

She looks at me without blinking for a moment while she does the math. Then her eyebrows sort of drift toward her hairline. “Maria Deluca?” she asks.

I bite my lip and nod.

“How serious is it?” she asks. I can’t tell from her tone how she feels about this revelation.

“We haven’t gotten very far,” I explain. I suddenly know how difficult it was for Isabel to reveal she has a new love – I feel like someone planted a Bunsen burner right under my ass. “She’s a little uh, resistant.”

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. I wonder what Isabel is thinking. Maybe she’s just wondering why I’m squirming so much. Finally, I can’t take it.

“Is it a bad thing?” I ask, raising my eyebrows pleadingly.

Isabel breaks into a slow smile and shakes her head. “No. It’s not a bad thing. I was just thinking about how hard this must be for both of you to come to terms with. What with everything being the way it is.”

I nod in agreement – no one has to tell me about the confusion that has been in my head the last few days.

“Is it serious?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything yet. It’s hard to figure things out while…” I draw in a breath, realizing there is so much I haven’t told my sister. “She’s a little closed off right now, Iz.”

Isabel waits politely while the waiter places our meals before us. As he exits, she picks up her utensils and gives the massive bowl of pasta a wary glance.

“She’ll come around,” she decides aloud.

I snort a laugh. “What makes you so sure?”

She meets my eyes, hers serious. “Because I can see in you so much change, Max. There is so much life in your face, in your every move. Only someone who loves can help you the way she has. She already loves you. She just doesn’t know it.”

With that, my sister twirls pasta onto her fork and begins to eat her lunch. I remain frozen for a moment, her words resonating in my ears. But it’s not so much her words as the way she said them – I heard relief for the first time in five years. Maybe for the first time since I awoke and chastised her in that mental hospital, she knows that I’m safe from self-harm.

Because I’m in love and loved in return.

tbc

Hey, all, comments will follow! In this part, Mae returns and there is a little shout out to those who want her to meet Michael


Part Sixteen

Isabel and I take in a movie, like we often did on Saturday afternoons when we were kids. We buy soda and popcorn and sit in the back row. Of course we pick a comedy, and even elicit some disapproving stares when we laugh too loudly or too long at some of the jokes. I don’t give the glances much thought – I feel good today and I’m not going to let anything dampen my spirits.

After the movie, the sun has gone down since the days are getting shorter as the calendar winds down toward the end of the year. I would have liked to have found a nice park to talk a walk or something, but without daylight, I can’t see that it would be very enjoyable. So we return to the hotel and continue our cinematic entertainment by ordering room service for dinner and renting a movie on pay-per-view.

Isabel claims the small couch – nothing more than a glorified loveseat – and I take the floor. The movie is boring and I feel like sleep could invade if I let it. But I’m not ready to go to sleep. There are still things Iz and I need to talk about. Rolling over onto my side, I plant my elbow on the floor and prop up my head. She turns her gaze to me, her dark eyes questioning.

“I have something I’d like to tell you,” I begin.

One of her eyebrows lifts barely perceptibly and I can practically see the gears turning in her head – she’s trying to decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. “Okay,” is all she says.

“I’m sorry, Isabel.” I mean it – with all of my heart.

There’s no question that her eyebrows raise now. “Sorry for what?”

“For being so cold to you since Liz died.”

She looks away and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve, a soft spot.

“For a long time I didn’t want to live,” I explain gently. “When I awoke in the hospital after…” I look at my wrist, at the scar that will always be there. “After I did that, you were the first person I saw. And I thought you were the one who saved me.”

She’s meeting my eyes again, her gaze steady. She doesn’t respond, just listens.

“I was so angry that I’d failed,” I tell her. “And when you’re being that selfish, you can’t take responsibility for your failures.” I swallow hard, the truth coming out harder than I’d expected it to. “So I blamed you, Iz.”

Isabel looks startled. “You blamed me?”

I nod, ashamed of that. “The only way I knew to vent my anger was to be mean to you. I really am sorry, Isabel. I’m sorry I blamed you for something you didn’t do, and I’m sorry that I felt living was a failure.”

There’s a deafening silence in the room as Isabel registers my revelation – perhaps for the first time she understands the meaning for my hostility. I don’t know how it makes her feel, if she’s angry or hurt or surprised; her expression reveals nothing.

Finally, her jaw set in determination, she gives a nod of her head. “I accept your apology, Max. Thank you for being honest with me.”

I give her a small smile. I know there are still things swirling around in her head that she needs to come to terms with, but just as it did for me and Maria, the healing starts here. I roll over onto my stomach and try to focus on the movie, but soon I’m drifting into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in years.

The next day, I decide we should go downtown. I plan on taking Isabel to all of the sites Maria took me to on my first day in the city. I call Mae and ask her to meet us for lunch – I can’t wait for Isabel to meet her. I want Maria to come, too, but when Mae inquires, Maria indicates she’s too busy getting ready for a presentation to meet us. My heart sinks, but I quickly turn my attention to the other two women in my life and my spirits rise significantly.

Driving downtown is a mistake. We circle for forty five minutes before we find a place to park and I have the gnawing feeling we’ll be late to the restaurant to meet Mae. Of course, I’m wrong and early as usual. I want to treat them to a nice lunch – something other than snack cakes and soda. As Isabel and I slide into our booth, I smile remembering Mae attacking those poor HoHos.

“What are you laughing about?” Iz asks in amusement.

“I was just thinking about Mae,” I answer. “I think you’ll like her. She’s…um, different.”

Isabel’s eyes are round. “You mean different as in…” She points discretely toward the ceiling with her index finger.

Well, I hadn’t considered that, so I ponder it for a moment. No, I think she’s definitely of this earth. Her mind might be a little spacey, but her body is all human. “I don’t think so,” I laugh.

Isabel relaxes. “Thank God. Why do you think she’s different?”

I grin. “You’ll see.”

And shortly she does. I know Mae has entered the restaurant before I see her because every guy in the place looks toward the door. She strides toward our table with an air of absolute confidence, her strides long, her reddish brown hair billowing behind her. In her hands, she has several shopping bags.

Upon seeing me, she lets out the customary squeal as I stand to give her a hug. When she’s done squishing me, she practically yanks poor Isabel to her feet so she can do the same to her. Over Mae’s shoulder, I see my sister’s bewildered expression and I have to hide my grin behind my hand.

Instead of sitting beside me – someone she’s already familiar with – Mae slides in next to Isabel and holds out one of the bags.

“For you!” she announces happily.

Isabel cautiously takes the bag. “What’s this?”

“Gifts! Actually, samples from one of our potential designers. I thought you might like them.”

I watch curiously as Isabel takes the garments from the bag. This should be interesting –never in a billion years would I think Isabel might like something I picked out for her. She’s picky about what she wears and I want to see how easily she covers her distaste for Mae’s gift.

But I’m the one who has to cover – the blouses prompt so much delight from my sister that I’m totally taken off guard. I watch the two of them chatting excitedly over the unique style and materials used and I my analysis that Isabel is a more reserved version of Mae comes rushing back to me. They’re obviously very different – one Asian, one alien – but alike on so many levels.

I cease to exist during lunch, and I don’t mind. I like watching Isabel connect with other people; it happens so rarely. Growing up, Iz never had girl friends. It was always me, her and Michael, the three of us closing ourselves off from the world. But now there are people like Mae out there, people who are blunt without being rude and help pull others out of their shells.

“You’re twins,” I hear her say, randomly like she always does.

“Well, actually I’m older,” Isabel says, a little startled at Mae’s sudden announcement.

“No, you were born at the same time.” There’s no argument in Mae’s voice, just a plain statement of the truth.

Isabel looks uneasily across the table at me and I just give her a little smile. I warned her that my new friend was a little eccentric. “Well, I guess we could have been,” she says. “We were adopted, so I guess anything is possible.”

I know what’s possible – maybe in another life, Isabel was older than me. In this life, we slipped out of those pods together. In a sense, we were “born” at the same time. In this life, we are twins.

As usual, Mae’s bizarre outbursts don’t cease and have no direct correlation to anything in the topic of discussion. They’re totally random and usually true. She tells Isabel that she has pretty skin in the middle of talking about the movie we saw yesterday. While talking about a funny occurrence at the office, she tells Isabel that she carries a great deal of sadness about her – she lost a love once. Such observations might make people nervous or uneasy, but it is such a part of Mae’s character that they’re just accepted for what they are without putting a damper on the conversation. I’m beginning to love Mae for her quirks and I hope she’s always in my life.

As I’m digging in my wallet for cash to pay the check, I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. I wish Maria had been here, sitting in the lonely spot beside me. In my mind, I image the two of us together, laughing at Mae’s outbursts and Isabel’s bewilderment. I wish she’d been here, sharing this moment with us. But the biggest wish I have is that someday we’ll get the chance to share some moment. Maybe it’s never going to happen…

I feel a warm hand on my arm. I look up, surprised, into Mae’s smiling face. She has arisen, ready to go back to her office and has leaned over conspiratorially, blocking Isabel’s view with her body.

“Keep the faith,” she whispers. “I know she’s wavering.”

That’s all she says as she turns to chatter with Isabel, who is tugging on her coat. Maybe Mae isn’t an alien, but she does seem to have the power to read minds.

Isabel and I walk Mae back to her office, where we say goodbye at the sidewalk. She embraces both of us like she’s known us forever, then disappears into her building. Isabel watches her go and I have to smile.

“What are you thinking?” I ask as we start walking toward the Sears Tower, our first sight-seeing stop.

“That you were right,” she answers. “She is different.”

I laugh lightly.

“But not in a bad way,” she continues quickly. “She’s just one of those people you meet and when they walk away you think, ‘What the fuck was that?’” She squints against the sun, looking into my face. “How did you meet her again?”

She mauled me in an alley, my dear sister. Not that I can actually say that. “Blind date.”

“Oh.” Isabel looks down the sidewalk, thinking. “I like her,” she decides with a smile.

“Yeah, me too,” I agree.

“I’d like her to meet Michael.” There’s a wicked grin on my sister’s lips that needs an explanation. “With the way she just blurts out things, can you imagine how paranoid she’d make him?”

We share an expressionless glance, then both of us burst out laughing. Yes, I can imagine that Mae would keep Michael uncomfortably on his toes for a very long time.

Our day downtown is over too quickly, and I can feel my time with my sibling growing short. One more day, then she returns to the airport to go home, back to Roswell. Not even a day, since her flight is tomorrow evening. I don’t want her to go away so quickly. If I had my way, she’d move here and be a permanent part of my life, but I know that maybe Isabel and I have different paths to take. She has a pharmacist in Roswell, and I have an unrequited love in Chicago.

That night, we just lie on her bed in the hotel and talk into the wee hours of the morning. We discuss everything – our supposed “destinies” and how things have really turned out, losing a spouse and dealing with the grief, what it’s like to watch a brother withdraw from the world and what it’s like to see him want to re-enter it again, how it feels to love someone who is frightened to love in return. We bear our souls and it feels good to be close and honest with her. When we finally fall sleep, it’s already daylight, her last day.

When I awake it’s almost noon; she’s gone and my heart drops to my toes. I find a note – what is it with women leaving me notes to explain their disappearances?! Her excuse is simple – she couldn’t bear to say goodbye to me. Her note expresses love and the wish to see one another again. I want to be angry about her slipping away, but then I remember that when I left Roswell, I made her drop me at the curb so there would be no tears and I have to respect her decision. Because I definitely would have been crying at the gate today.

At the front desk, I’m rummaging for my credit card to close out her room a couple of days early when I hear a familiar voice call my name. For a moment, I freeze, positive that I couldn’t have possibly heard correctly. Sometimes want manifests itself into hallucinations. I continue digging through my wallet – for a neat person, I sure keep a messy billfold.

“Max.”

Nope, didn’t hallucinate it this time. I turn slowly and find Maria standing a safe distance away, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. She looks ill. Immediately, I stuff my wallet into my pocket and go to her, take her by the arm.

“Maria, what’s wrong?” I ask, peering into her face with concern. She should be at work today.

“Nothing,” she says, her eyes darting away.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to come,” she says nervously.

Beneath my hand, I can feel her arm quivering. She’s shaking like an anxious Chihuahua. I take her other arm as well. “Tell me,” I say.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” she says, looking down at the floor.

“No, I won’t,” I assure her. “But you are really starting to worry me.”

She meets my eyes, hers damp. “I had this dream last night, Max.”

A dream. I glance upward, toward the room that was Isabel’s, and wonder what my sister has been up to.

“What kind of dream?” I ask, returning my attention to the trembling woman in my arms.

A tear spills onto her cheek and she uncoils her arms to wipe it away viciously. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice somewhat angry. “I can’t remember it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And yet it sent you all of the way out to Oak Brook?”

She nods.

“Well,” I say, “that must have been some powerful dream.”

“It was,” she agrees, her eyes moistening again. “And even if I don’t remember the details, I do remember this – I knew I had to come here, now, and talk through things with you.”

“Why now?” I ask, though inside my heart is jumping with joy that she’s at least willing to open up to me.

“I don’t know,” she says, tears once again assaulting her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” I say, pulling her close to my body and kissing the side of her head. I release her quickly, as we are in public, and put my arm around her shoulders. “I still have Isabel’s room for a couple more nights,” I explain as I lead her to the elevators. “I was going to check out, but we might as well use it, huh?”

She nods mutely, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

I push the button and wait for the elevator. As we stand in silence, waiting for a ride that may change our lives, I ponder Maria’s cryptic dream. It’s unlike Isabel to be so abstract, and on second thought I have doubt that she’d dreamwalk Maria without my permission. That means that the dream came from Maria’s subconscious.

Or perhaps somewhere else.

tbc

Chips - Yes, I'm a tease, but at least I didn't leave you hanging for long
mareli - If you had Max Evans in a hotel room, would you waste your time TALKING???


Part Seventeen

Even though my knees have turned to Jell-o and my insides are doing a little dance all of their own, I casually take a seat on the sofa. Maria, on the other hand, is unable to hide her discomfort as she wrings her hands together and paces the space in front of the couch. Trying to act calm so she’ll feel calm, I cross my legs ankle-over-knee and stretch my arms across the back of the couch. I may look calm on the outside, but that’s hardly the case inside of me.

“Why don’t you tell me about the dream?” I suggest as my eyes follow her path.

She pauses momentarily, then continues to wring and pace. “I don’t remember much of it, except for the message at the end.”

“Which was?”

She stops before the window, the streaming sun creating a halo effect behind her. “Whoever was in my dream told me not to let this moment slip away, that I have the chance for something I’ve never had.”

“What’s that?” I ask her cautiously.

“A stable relationship.” Her anguished eyes dart away and I can see that she’s not comfortable telling me that all of her relationships have been a bust.

“You’ve never had a good relationship?” I ask gently.

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.” Her voice is small, full of regret.

“Not even with Michael?”

She snorts a laugh. “Least of all with Michael. He and I weren’t meant to be. It’s not that he was mean to me or anything. Michael just doesn’t know how to be with someone, ya know?”

Michael’s been with a lot of someones, but I’m not going to bring that up now. Besides, I think I know what she means – there’s a difference between caring for someone and simply being with them for sex. Michael isn’t good at the former, but excels at the latter. I don’t have time to dissect the reasons for that, as Maria is continuing her confession.

“When I moved to Chicago, I made a pact with myself,” she says as she stares down at her shoes. “Everyone I loved had left me. My dad. Alex. Liz.” Her eyes drift to mine and I fill in the blank – and me. “My heart had a huge hole in it and it took me a long time to heal it enough to function. And once that hole was closed, I swore that I wouldn’t let anyone else under my skin, that no one would matter to me as much as those that I lost had.”

An overwhelming sense of grief twists in my gut. In my mind, I can clearly see Maria making that pact with herself and I have to wonder how many decent men passed through her life without a second glance because she deemed them lovable. Instead, she ended up with the Ramons of the world, people who beat and abuse her.

“So you vowed not to love anyone,” I say quietly, summing up for her.

She nods and even as she does so, I see a tear form in her eye again. “And then you showed up.” Unable to stop the tears, she lets out a sob and covers her face with her hands.

Instantaneously, I’m on my feet and taking her in my arms. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “Don’t punish yourself, Maria.”

She drops her hands and thumps my chest with her fists, though her rage is hardly violent. “And all I can think about is that you are someone I can love and that I will only be hurt in the end. I will always be second best, Max, and I can’t deal with that.”

I look into her anguished face and brush the tears from her smooth skin. “Second best to whom, Maria?”

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “To her. To Liz. I can never take her place.”

Ah, it all makes sense now. I remind myself that Maria may not be on the receiving end of Mae’s wisdom, that maybe she hasn’t realized that perhaps Liz has engineered this whole thing.

I offer her a small smile. “I don’t want you to take her place. I want you to take your place.”

She stops sniffling and her face shows a myriad of emotions – joy, doubt, disbelief. The disbelief comes last and remains the longest. “I know what you had, Max. I witnessed it and envied it every day. Liz was life to you, she was all that mattered. Without her, you wanted to die. How can there possibly be room in your heart for me?”

I reach down and take her hand in mine, lay it open-palmed on my chest and press it there, so that she can feel my heart. “I’m alive,” I tell her, my voice a near whisper, my face close to hers. “I’m alive without Liz. I’m alive because of you. She will always be in my heart, but there is more than enough room for you there, too, Maria. There will always be room for you.”

She bites her lip, her green eyes round. I know she wants to believe.

“What do I have to do to convince you?” I ask her seriously.

She looks away, uncertain how to answer that.

“I can’t make you believe in me unless you give me a chance, Maria,” I tell her. “I told you that I love you too much to see you hurt – and that includes being hurt by me. I won’t hurt you, Maria. I can’t hurt you.”

Our proximity is finally too much for me to take and I lean in to brush my lips across hers. She answers, her kiss short and urgent. My body reacts immediately, jumping to life, crying with need.

“Say you’ll give us a chance,” I breathe against her ear. “Let us find out if there is something between us.” I take her face between my hands. “Please, Maria.”

She nods mutely, her eyes searching mine, her breath coming a little quicker than it was before. I know what I want, what I’ve wanted since I realized that I might be in love with her, but maybe this is all too soon for her. After all, she just had the epiphany last night…

“We can move slowly,” I tell her, forcing my body to calm down. “We don’t have to do anything now.”

Apparently my concern for moving too quickly was misplaced, however. Her fingers start working the buttons on my shirt and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I want to see you,” she says, her eyes meeting mine fleetingly.

I put my hand over hers, think about the men she has bedded in the last three years. I don’t want to be just another one of them. She seems to read my expression as she slowly shakes her head.

“You’re different,” she says, a hint of humility in her voice. “You’re not like them, Max.”

Appeased, I release her fingers and watch as they move from one button to the next. Her motions are slow and methodical and soon she’s pulling the tails of my shirt from my jeans. A moment later, the shirt is on the floor and she’s tracing my body with the tips of her fingers. I watch her, watch my chest rise and fall more distinctly under her touch. No woman has touched me intimately in five years and my body is screaming from within.

“You’re so strong,” she says as her fingers trace my bicep. I detect just a quiver of trepidation in her voice.

“I am,” I agree humbly. “But I will never use that strength against you.” I shrug. “Unless of course you wanted me to.”

She doesn’t laugh immediately and I have a sinking feeling that our relationship will be too serious. But then her lips curve into a smile at my naughty comment and she laughs. I was wrong – our relationship will be filled with jokes and having fun. The laughter fades away, however, as she leans up to kiss me again, our kiss longer this time, more intimate, more achingly beautiful.

While I explore her with my lips and tongue, I gently slide her coat off – it hits the floor with a soft thud. Then I push her shirt away from her shoulder and lay gentle kisses there. She tastes and smells so sweet, her voice is a beautiful gasp against my ear.

Covering her skin, I place my hands on her shoulders and look her in the eyes.

“I haven’t…” I begin. “I haven’t done this since Liz.” I’m afraid I’m rusty, that it won’t be good for her.

“It’s okay,” she says, kissing me. “I haven’t done this since a week ago last Thursday.”

I laugh and return her kiss. In one swoop, I gather her into my arms and head for the bedroom. She gives a little cry of surprise, but then clings to me for the ride. Beside the bed, I set her on her feet, then pull her shirt over her head. I had thought that maybe seeing Maria naked would be anti-climactic, since I’ve seen her in various stages of undress already. But I was wrong – undressing her piece by piece is like opening a Christmas present.

She’s simply beautiful.

No longer bold in her nudity, she kind of drifts one hand over her abdomen, her eyes uncertain. I don’t suppose she figured we’d make love for the first time in broad daylight.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask her gently.

She gives a little shrug. “Not uncomfortable, really. Maybe a little self-conscious?”

I smile at her and pull her to me, her body making contact with my bare chest – it pulls the air right out of my lungs and my heart begins to race. I want her so much that I fear it will be over before it begins.

“Don’t be self-conscious,” I tell her, ordering my body to relax. “You’re absolutely beautiful. Don’t forget that, don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

Her hands are on my zipper, forcing it down. I close my eyes and bite my lip, waiting for that rush of cool air I know is about to assault exactly where I don’t want it to. When it happens, I draw in a quick breath. When I open my eyes, Maria is looking at me devilishly.

“It’s been a while,” I reiterate and she giggles.

We lie on the bed, two new lovers exploring each others’ bodies. I want to touch her everywhere, and I quickly find out where to touch her to elicit the best responses. Her breasts are sensitive and that delights me – I enjoy women’s breasts and the fact that she likes having them touched is a bonus for both of us. I stay there for a long while, touching, teasing, kissing, until her breath is coming in a quick pant. Glancing at her face, I see that she is squeezing her eyes tightly shut, her brow furrowed in concentration; her hands are at her sides, gripping the sheet. I let one hand stray down her quivering abdomen, between her legs. I barely touch her and she lets out a cry, her back arching as tremors rip through her body. I simply watch in amazement.

The light in the room shifts as the sun prepares for its descent over the horizon. It’s my turn for the exquisite agony, watching as Maria plants kisses down my chest, progressively working lower. I know where she’s going and what she’s going to do, but I also know if she does that, I won’t last for long. And I don’t want that. I want to be with her completely.

So as her hair brushes my abdomen and her breath drifts across my thigh, I reach down and take her by the shoulders. Quickly, I flip her onto her back. She gives a startled squeak, but she’s smiling as I settle over her, my weight propped up on one elbow. My smile and laugh fades away as I brush her blond curls away from her face. Her eyes become serious as I lean in to kiss her, capturing her lips with mine. My free hand strays down to her thigh, gently pushing it open – I will never demand, I will always ask permission. She opens herself fully to me and I put my knee down between her legs.

Pausing only momentarily, I look into her eyes. I want to see her face, her reaction, when we become one. I’m not disappointed. As I thrust forward, she draws in a ragged breath and her eyes never leave mine.

“I love you, Maria,” I whisper as I adjust to the feel of her.

A single tear rolls from the corner of her eye as if the admission releases a weight she's been carrying. “I love you, too, Max.”


tbc

Yep, I'm the queen of PG13 sex

Thanks for your comments, everyone! Fb on fb will follow

Pretty much fluff...



Part Eighteen

Day has once again turned into night. I’ve become a nocturnal creature, rising when it’s dark, sleeping when it’s light. I guess it was inevitable that a being of the stars would choose to be awake when they are most visible.

But tonight the stars have nothing to do with my waking. Tonight I am awake because of the woman I hold in my arms. She’s lying with her back to me, sleeping soundly, her hand resting on the arm I have around her waist. I’ve cradled her against me, my other arm beneath her head as she uses my bicep for a pillow, and I’ve been lying here for a couple of hours, just watching her sleep. Using one finger, I trace one of her curls, the hair straightening beneath my powers; I reverse my direction and the curl returns. It brings a smile to my face.

A month ago, watching Maria’s hair morph into different shapes wouldn’t have made me smile. Watching her shoulder rise and fall gently as she breathes, I think back on all of the things that have transpired in that short amount of time. A month ago, people at Dad’s office thought of me as that creepy, suicidal son of Phillip. I hated my sister and never had any intention of asking for her forgiveness. And I certainly hadn’t planned on making love to anyone in the near future.

Maria has released me from all of the hatred, anger and guilt I had stored inside of me. Until I came here, I couldn’t even admit that Liz died because of my poor driving skills. I couldn’t agree with anyone that taking my own life wasn’t a viable resolution to the pain and guilt I felt. Somehow, in this short span of time, she has made me see how wrong I was. She has lifted my soul out of the darkness it had been hiding in, and now I feel light and free. I truly believe she’s worked a miracle.

Now maybe it’s my turn to spin some magic. I hold in my hands a fragile person, brave to the world but breakable underneath. It makes my heart ache to think of what she’s been through, both in terms of loss and in terms of the men who have been in her life up to this point. She reminds me of an abused animal – she wants so badly to trust and be loved, but she doesn’t know if asking for those things will result in a reward or a swift kick in the ribs. Quite literally in her case. I know it will take time – trust doesn’t happen overnight – but I’m willing to try if she is. I do care about her. I do love her. I know that for sure now.

She stirs against me and mumbles something. I watch her carefully, waiting to see if she’s waking. I know she needs to rest, but God I wish she’d wake up and let me make love to her again! Then I remind myself that she has to be drained – coming all of the way out here and laying her soul out to me had to have been exhausting. I’ll let her sleep, but I won’t stop wanting her.

She moves again, murmurs something.

“What?” I whisper close to her ear.

“Protection,” she mumbles.

I blink. “What about it?”

She draws in a sleepy breath and stretches slightly. “We didn’t use any.”

Oops. She’s right – we didn’t. I carefully disentangle my arm from her hand and let it slide down to her abdomen. Pushing out with a little burst of power, I look for any indication that we might get a surprise out of our actions and find none.

“It’s okay,” I reassure her softly. “We’re safe. We’ll be more careful next time.” Silently, I hope the hotel gift store sells contraception…

She nods against my arm, her hair brushing silkily back and forth. I love how it feels against my skin. My other hand is still on her belly, close to the treasure…I can’t resist. Slowly, I slip my hand farther down her body, stopping right before it curves toward me. There is a hitch in her breathing as she becomes aware of our proximity. Taking silence as acceptance, I move my hand over the curve and into the promised land.

Maria releases a sigh and pushes her back into my chest. My throat has gone dry and all I want to do is touch her. I reposition the hand that had been cradling her head and curve it around to cup her breast. She gives a little moan and arches her back slightly.

I take my time, kissing her neck, slowly using my fingers to pleasure her. In only minutes, she’s breathing harder and reaching for my hands. At first I think she is going to push me away, but she’s only encouraging me, running her long fingers over the backs of my hands.

“Don’t stop,” she begs quietly, her voice hoarse from sleeping. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” I promise, nipping her earlobe with my lips. She gasps and her breath becomes a steady pant.

“Now, Max,” she breathes.

I quicken my pace and only seconds later she’s convulsing against me, crying out softly in release. As she falls limply into me, I continue to kiss her neck, her earlobes, her bare shoulders. I watch as her breasts heave with the labor of her breathing and a smile comes to my lips. I will never get tired of looking at her.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, kissing her neck.

She nods and bends an arm over her head to touch my hair. Only moments later, her arm falls to her side and I feel her sliding back to sleep. I’m a little disappointed, but I can ask nothing more of her tonight. I know what it’s like to harbor unpleasant emotions, to constantly be in turmoil. Once you let them out, you feel like a rag doll. So I’ll let her sleep and push my own wants to the back of my mind. I remove my hand from her legs so she will be comfortable, but I leave the other one on her breast – because that makes me comfortable.

Isabel’s room has a Jacuzzi tub that never got used while she was here. Later, after Maria has slept and the hours are still very early, I fill the tub, then beckon for her to join me. She sinks into one end while I slip into the other. We lounge there for a long time, enjoying the bubbles and not really talking. The lack of conversation doesn’t worry me, however – I know that we’re both a little dazed and yet I feel no uncertainty.

Finally, Maria speaks. “What do you think she would say?”

Of course, she’s referring to Liz, about how she would feel if she knew Maria and I were together. I wave my hand in the water, feel the jets sputter over my skin. “I would hope she’d be happy for us,” I say honestly. “We were the people she loved the best, Maria. I think she’d want us to be happy together.”

She offers a sad smile and I know she’s hoping that could be true.

“What do you think she’d say?” I counter.

One corner of her mouth lifts into a smirk and the sadness is gone. “I think she’d say, ‘See, Maria? I told you Max was good in bed.’”

Ears – flaming red. I can’t help my startled laugh. “She never really said that, did she?”

Maria shakes her head. “No, but let’s put it this way – now I understand why she was so damned happy all the time.”

I reach up to scratch my head – my self-conscious fidget – and give an embarrassed laugh. As I watch her, though, my smile fades away. “Are you happy, Maria?”

She nods silently, then adds, “Damned happy.”

I hold out my hand to her and she slides over to my side of the tub, nestling in beside me. Our bodies drift together on the current, hip to hip. I sling my arm over her shoulder and she takes my hand in hers, lacing her fingers through mine.

“I want this to work,” she says quietly as she caresses my fingers with hers.

“Me, too,” I answer seriously.

She cranes her head and looks into my face. “But what if it doesn’t?”

“We can’t think that way. I don’t want to go into this worried that the end is coming and that it will be bad when it does.”

Her eyes are worried. “Do you think it will end badly?”

I snort a little laugh – she’s missed the meaning of my comment. “I don’t want to think about the end. No relationship is going to last if you plan for the end up front.” But maybe that’s what she’s been doing for the last three years…

She blinks a couple of times, biting her lower lip, then returns her attention to our hands.

“You have wonderful hands,” she says as she watches the movements of our fingers. It’s a very Mae-like outburst.

“Thank you,” I say.

“They do wonderful things,” she says, still watching our hands.

I laugh lightly. “Thanks.”

She shifts her position, swinging around so she’s facing me, her legs straddling my hips. Her green eyes settle on my lips and she takes my face between her hands. Her lips touch mine and I feel all of the air rush out of my lungs. Why is it that every kiss with her is new, like I’ve never done this with her before? I got lost in the feel and taste of her – so lost that I jump noticeably when her hand slips under the water and grasps me firmly. Maria breaks our kiss but remains close to me.

“Do you like what I can do with my hands?” she whispers.

I nod but reach down and take hold of her wrist. “I do, but this isn’t what it’s all about for me.” I don’t want her to think I’m only here for sex.

One corner of her mouth lifts into a half smile. “I know, Max. I’m not all about that, either.” She kisses me fleetingly. “But I thought since we were both naked…”

She lifts herself up and slides down onto me. My eyes roll back in my head at the sensation.

“I want to see your eyes,” she says.

I open my eyes on command. I’ll do anything as long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing. I want to close my eyes and savor the feelings that are stirring in my body, but locking eyes with her while she begins to rock against me is extremely intense. I drift into those emerald pools, hypnotized by their flecks of blue and brown. All the while, I sense that her breath is quickening with mine, just as her motions are increasing. I’m only vaguely aware that water is sloshing over the side of the tub and splashing onto the tiled floor.

I try everything to prolong our time together – saying the alphabet, thinking about baseball stats, trying to remember the names of all of the kids in my fourth grade class. I don’t want this moment to end, but I know it will eventually, and it will be sweet when it happens.

I feel the exquisite agony building inside of me and I can no longer contain it. Just when I’m about to cry out, she covers my mouth with hers, swallowing my passion, calming me after the storm. My entire body tenses, then relaxes as a feeling of euphoria races through my veins. A few moments later, I feel her body tense and she gives a little cry of release. She falls against me, her hair tickling my shoulder. Her chest expands and contracts rapidly against mine and her breath puffs hotly against my neck.

Between the warm jets of the tub and the aftermath of our union, I feel like a limp noodle. I slide down in the tub until my head rests against the side; Maria slides with me, her body stretching along mine and sort of floating over me. I give a little laugh and take her by the hips to keep her from drifting away. She turns a smile in my direction and I have to kiss her.

Still recovering, she lays her head against my chest and places her arms around my shoulders. I hold her, caressing her while the jets of the Jacuzzi wash over us.

I give a little laugh and she raises her head to look at me.

“What?” she asks.

“So much for protection,” I say, giving a shrug of ‘oops’.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “What is it about you, Max Evans, that makes me forget everything I ever learned?”

I smile at her and pull her close to me. What is it about Maria that makes me forget I’m supposed to be the responsible one?

tbc

Thanks for the comments, everyone! It's the weekend, so expect the posting maniac to return


Part Nineteen

Maria’s apartment becomes ‘our’ apartment, though all of the furnishing and most of the belongings are hers. I suppose eventually I’ll have to return to Roswell and get rid of the apartment I’d leased – it’s senseless to keep shelling out the rent when I have no desire to return there. That place is full of grief and despair – I’ll never live there again. But I will have to clean it out and give my landlord notice. It’s the least of my concerns and I know I’ll only do it when money becomes an issue.

Speaking of money, I decide it’s time to do something with the insurance payout I got from the accident that claimed Liz. I phone Mr. Seligman, who is now principal of West Roswell High, and set up a scholarship in her name. I then call Dad and ask his firm to handle the legal end of it. It won’t require the full payment, so I deposit the necessary amount into an annuity, with the assumption the yearly scholarship will be paid from the interest. I enjoy talking to him, since it seems like a lifetime since I’ve done so. His manner is more jovial than when I left and I can only guess that Isabel assured the parents that I’m much better these days. For one fleeting moment, I miss my family, but that’s gone as soon as Maria returns home from work.

She’s got quite a wicked sense of humor – and I think she may be harboring a bondage fetish. One morning I awake with one ankle tied to the bed post. A week later it’s my wrist. But nothing tops the time I wake up with a bright red ribbon tied around my penis. Apparently I’m a heavy sleeper.

I don’t think full trust is there yet, but I’m still working on it. One day as I was looking over the list I made of things I wanted to do, she found me and immediately looked ill. I know she’s thinking that those places on that pad of paper have more lure than her affections do. She’s wrong. If she were an outdoorsy person (which she is not) I wouldn’t think twice about dragging her around the world with me. I know she doesn’t hold my desire to go to exotic places, and maybe some day I will have to make the choice to go by myself or not go at all. I’m not worried about that, though – because I will always return to her.

October turns to November and I find out first hand what a brutal Midwest winter is like. I’m not sure I like it. It snowed occasionally in Roswell, but it rarely accumulated on the ground and never hung around for long. Snow in Chicago is different. And it’s not just snow – it’s rain and snow mixed together, it’s freezing rain, it’s ice build-up in the steps and sidewalks. I fall on my ass so many times I lose count.

Maria laughs at me and buys me essentials I do not own – a hat, gloves, and a scarf. The first time I bundle up, I feel ridiculous. But once I’m outside and that cold Illinois wind rips across my cheeks, I forget all about looking like a fool and thank God one of us understands the meaning of frost bite. It’s official – I’m never going to be warm again.

Each night, however, I have a beautiful, wonderful young lady to warm me. I shiver a lot under the covers and Maria becomes a bit disappointed that sleeping in the buff is out. Even after sex, I grab whatever clothes I cast off and put them back on before going to sleep. I’m glad she’s acclimated because I can wrap myself around her and by morning I’m cozy again.

As November creeps toward December, Mae throws a Thanksgiving party for the people who are without family during the holiday. She lives north of the city so we brush the cobwebs off Maria’s car, which has been sitting in storage in the apartment building’s garage, and start to make the trek out of the city. The roads aren’t bad, but my winter driving skills leave something to be desired and Maria takes the wheel.

Mae’s apartment is decorated as eccentrically as its occupant. A vast space, it’s a studio that has very little furniture. But here and there are sculptures made of various media – metal, paper mache, wood – that seem to float within the large vacuum. With no walls, her bed is clearly visible from any vantage point in the apartment. One wall is all windows, with the tops slanting toward the ceiling like those of a green house. I simply stare in awe.

But soon Mae is before us, grabbing both of us in an embrace at the same time. I hear Maria’s strangled giggle as the air is smashed out of my lungs.

“My friends!” Mae spouts and I think maybe she’s been hitting the holiday cheer already. She kisses both of us in turn. “Come in! Let me introduce you!”

Also at the party are Louisa – a neighbor from down the hall, and Simon – whom I think might be the flavor of the week. I’m not sure about that, but Mae seems rather taken with him.

Cocktails flow steadily and soon I think my petite girlfriend is a little tipsy. Not falling-down drunk, but definitely impaired. She’s not an obnoxious drunk, but rather entertaining. And affectionate. She hangs all over me, sitting on my lap when she can, stealing kisses when she thinks no one is looking. I kind of like it – it makes me think about giving a little thanks of my own later on.

“Isn’t Max gorgeous?” I hear Mae say, her voice dramatic.

I find her sitting by Louisa on the couch. Louisa stares at me for a moment, then nods her head in agreement. My ears start to burn.

“He’s been on the other side,” Mae whispers loudly to Louisa. I’m sure she thinks no one heard her.

Louisa’s blue eyes grow round and she looks at me in a whole new light. I’m guessing she and Mae are on the same plane cosmically.

“What’s wrong?” Maria says in a pout as she drops to my lap and runs her fingers down my cheek. Her eyes follow their path as she stops at my lips and traces the bottom one.

“Nothing,” I say, smiling up at her. I don’t want to spoil her mood by bringing up the fact that I’ve ‘been on the other side.’ “I was just missing you.”

She breaks into a wide grin and gives me a firm kiss. “I can’t wait to get home,” she whispers against my ear. She’s not so tipsy yet that she doesn’t understand what is loud and what isn’t – unlike her coworker.

I tighten my grip on her and give her another kiss. She tastes faintly like wine. “Me, neither,” I say.

She touches my forehead with hers. “Then let’s go.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Is it too soon?”

Maria gives a little giggle. “Are you kidding? With the amount Mae has drunk, she’s probably dying to get in a three-way with Louisa and Simon – she’ll be happy to see us leave.”

Three-way? I glance around Maria and see that Simon has joined Mae and Louisa on the couch, though everyone is keeping respectable distances. No way!

Maria laughs again. “What’s wrong, Max? You doubt that Mae would do that?”

I sputter for words and find none.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and looks me square in the eye. “I know she molested you in that alley, Max Evans.”

The ears are no longer burning – they’re setting off a three-alarm fire.

“Don’t you think anyone who mauls someone they’ve known for two hours in an alley is probably liberated enough to engage in a little group activity?” She gives me a wicked grin. “Tell me how she was, Max.”

I swallow hard, wondering if this is going to get me in trouble.

“I want to know,” she says, leaning close to my lips. “Tell me how she kissed.”

God, I can’t take this. She’s teasing the hell out of me. “Not like you,” I tell her, leaning in to meet her lips with mine. She pulls away at the last moment, though, her eyes victorious.

“Did you want to make love to her?” she whispers against my ear, her breath drifting across my throat.

I shake my head. That’s the truth – Mae is beautiful, but I never wanted to sleep with her.

Maria’s voice is like melted velvet as it drifts across my brain. “Do you want to make love to me?”

I nod mutely.

“Then let’s go home,” she baits.

This time, I forget offending my host and readily agree. At the door, Mae takes the keys from Maria’s hand and gives them to me.

“She’s tipsy,” she says. “You drive.”

Maria looks at me warily. “Max doesn’t have much experience driving in the winter.”

Mae waves her off. “And you’re half drunk.” She hugs us both and opens the door to see us out.

We go to the car and stand beside it, shivering as a light snow starts to fall around us. I start to take the driver’s side, but Maria is beside me.

“I can do it,” she insists, waving off Mae’s mother-hen routine.

I shake my head. “No, Mae was right. You have been drinking and it’s probably better if I drive. I’ll just go slowly.”

She shrugs. “Do what you want, dude,” she says as she’s walking around to the passenger side.

I drive like an old man. But that’s okay. One day I will be used to slush and ice and slippery spots. I’ll never get better at this unless I do it more often. In the seat beside me, the alcohol has taken its toll and Maria is half asleep, her head tilted against the head rest.

“Watch bridges and overpasses,” she mumbles.

“What?”

“They ice first.”

Oh, right. I was told that once upon a time. I shift my weight in the seat and continue my crawl toward home. After some time, Maria falls asleep and I see all of my hopes of being naughty tonight flying right out the window. I frown slightly, only because she’s such a good tease and now the payoff will never come. I console myself that there is always tomorrow morning.

I’m smiling about that when I feel something odd in the back end of the car. Too late, her words ring in my ears again – “Watch bridges and overpasses.” We’re on a bridge, over the river – and we’re no longer going straight.

In a horrifying replay of my history, the car starts to spin in a wide circle, the guard rail spiraling in and out of view. In my head, Liz’s screams turn into Maria’s screams as I start to lose total control of the car. This isn’t happening again! There’s no way this is happening again!

There is a terrible jolt and screeching of metal as the car finally makes contact with the guard rail. Unfortunately, the rail isn’t strong enough to withstand the weight of the car. The rail gives and then we’re falling.

I’m reminded of Liz and me jumping off that bridge to escape the FBI – just like that night, I can’t see the bottom or the river that awaits us. I get the sensation that the car flips and is going to hit on its roof first. Maria’s screams echo in the car during a plunge that seems to take a decade.

We hit, the impact breaking the windshield. Safety glass, it spider-webs but remains in one piece and tumbles into the interior of the car, smacking me squarely in the face. Freezing water rushes through the opening and punches me in the chest, stealing my breath away, then floods over my eyes. I shake my head, willing it away. Within seconds I realize that there is no willing it away - we’re totally under water in total darkness and if I don’t do something to free us, we’re going to drown.

My fingers won’t function. I can’t get them to unclasp my seatbelt. Desperate, holding my breath, I reach for Maria’s belt and fumble with it as well. She’s free and I push her toward the hole left by the windshield, praying that she knows how to swim. Then I return to my belt, my head starting to cloud from lack of oxygen. My body starts to protest, my muscles crying out, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. I use all of my willpower not to take a breath, not to let this death take me. I fight against it, against the impending doom I feel clouding my soul.

And then there is nothing but darkness.

tbc

~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, show of hands - who NEVER wants to get into a car with Max behind the wheel?