Roswell Fanatics

Thanks for the patience!

Ellie:

What is this news going to do to Maria? She seems to be the person who isn't outwardly showing any response. She's withdrawn again. This can't be good.

It's yet another thing Michael and Maria aren't in sync on right now: While he had a huge outward response, she basically had none. I think she's probably a little afraid to let herself really feel what she's feeling right now in light of this news, because there may be no coming back from it.

Novy:

Oh dear. See this is happening because the poor dear was holding it together so well before.

Oh, a "poor dear" from Novy. Been awhile since we had one of those.

So glad Tess and Kyle are together and well minded. Miley is going to need someone to care for her.

And Tess and Kyle certainly have their own stuff to deal with. But they really have no choice but to try to hold things together for their family right now. They're the only ones capable of it. And on the flipside of families, Max and Liz are kind of in the same boat now with Isabel and Garret.

Helen:

Michael has always taken up the role of The Leader/ALPHA.
And as Leader, he took responsibility for many things. Since the
accident, Michael is NOT emotionally equipped, nor in the right
frame of mind to continue handling the same responsibilities.

Kyle realizes that, and I'm sure he wants to help (and he has been by
organizing the funeral, figuring out the finances, etc.) but like I said,
it's the fact that this is all so new to him, and the FEAR OF FAILING
his friend and loved ones that's stressing Kyle the most. NOT to
mention that the lost of his niece is reason enough to shred him
emotionally.

I'm loving this wolf analogy. Really wish I could've said I'd planned that all along.

Kyle is definitely having to step up. Unfamiliar territory for him, like you said, but he's doing the best he can with it. And as long as he's doing his best, that's all that matters.

It almost feels like they may take up the role of the ALPHAS for
a while, since it looks like M&M are NOT in the position to do so.

Don't really know if that's the case... it's just something that occurred
to me as I was feedbacking. Haven't given it much thought, but it would
be interesting if that's the direction you'll be taking this story.

I mean, I definitely think that the roles in this family are going to change and have to change for at least awhile. But Michael, being Michael, will probably still find himself boxed into that Alpha role sometimes. That's just who he is, and everyone knows it.


Thank you for the feedback!


Well, I'm dropping off some music again today. It's the song "Barricade" by Stars, which, in my opinion, has some of the weirdest, most interesting lyrics I've ever heard. You can listen to it here or click on the when you see it if you'd like.








Part 120








Max and Liz saw it on the news before Isabel called them: Alex had been taken into police custody for the vehicular homicide of Macy Guerin. Even though they’d known it was coming, it was now official. He was in the hospital, sure, but soon he’d be in a prison cell, and he wouldn’t be getting out.

They went to the hospital straight away because they knew something crazy must have gone down for Alex to be there. Liz managed to get a hold of Isabel on the drive there, and she explained that Alex had confessed his crime to Michael and gotten a good old-fashioned beat-down in response. She didn’t sound too concerned about it, and when Max offered to swing by on the way to the hospital and bring her up to see him, too, she eagerly declined, saying she needed to stay with Garret.

They marched down the long emergency room corridor. It wasn’t hard to find Alex’s room. It was the only one with a policeman standing outside. They had to show identification and everything in order to even get in and see him, and the policeman made sure to hover.

“Alex?” Liz squeaked out as they neared his bedside. He looked more like a corpse than a human being. His entire face was so swollen that his eyes looked as though they were shut even though they were opened into small slits. Bruises discolored his skin already, yellow and purple all over, and his bottom lip was cut down the middle. Though he was lying on his back, his head was turned towards the side, looking out the window. It seemed to be a tremendous struggle for him even to turn to the other side and face them when they came in.

“Hey, guys,” he managed weakly. He tried to wave, but he looked too tired to raise his hand. Besides that, his wrist was cuffed to the railing of his hospital bed, so waving wasn’t really a possibility.

“Oh my god,” Liz gasped, clasping one hand over her mouth.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I don’t . . .” He swallowed hard as though talking hurt. “. . . look my best.” He coughed, wincing. “You guys didn’t have to come.”

“No, we didn’t,” Max agreed, cautiously monitoring his wife. “Liz?” She looked as though she were about to keel over.

Tears welling up in her eyes, she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t.” She quickly turned and fled from the hospital room. Max let her go, understanding that she couldn’t stand to see Alex this way, even after what he’d done. They were family. They had been for years now.

“She feels guilty,” he said.

“Why?” Alex asked, attempting (and of course failing) to lift his head up.

“Because she helped bring this out in the open,” he explained. “She knew something was wrong with you before anyone else did.”

Alex coughed again, grimacing. “I got what I deserved,” he said. “Tell her . . . not to feel bad.”

Max nodded. He’d tell her that. He’d tell her that a million times over. This was nobody’s fault but Alex’s.

“I’m glad you guys are happy again,” he said.

“Happy?” He grunted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You think I’m happy to see you lying here? God, I wish you hadn’t . . .” He stopped himself when he heard his voice starting to rise. He didn’t want to stand here and get mad. What good would that do? “Your life may as well be over now; you know that, right? You killed a baby. Two, if you wanna get technical. And then you lied about it. There’s no way a judge is lettin’ you walk out of a courtroom with anything less than a life in prison sentence.” It was a harsh reality, but he just wanted to make sure Alex was completely aware of it.

“I know,” Alex said, sounding more resigned than he did sad. “Max, promise me.”

Max waited for further explanation, but when he got none, he prompted, “Promise you what?”

“Promise me . . . you won’t bring Garret to see me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he mumbled, though that decision wouldn’t be up to him.

“No. Ever,” Alex clarified. “I mean ever. Not even after I . . . heal up.”

Max frowned, realizing that Alex was asking to never see his own son again. As someone who loved Garret, who felt parental to the boy even though he was just an uncle . . . Max couldn’t imagine that. A life without Garret wasn’t a life he wanted to live. “I promise,” he said, regardless of the way he questioned the decision.

“I want him to-to be good,” Alex sputtered desperately.

“He is good,” Max assured him.

Alex closed his eyes—or at least they looked closed. It was hard to tell. “I want him to stay that way,” he whispered.

So do I, Max thought, hoping that, without Alex in the picture, staying good would be easier for Garret. As horrible as it sounded . . . maybe Alex going to jail wouldn’t completely be a bad thing. Although . . .

No. In the end, it was all bad.

“How’s Isabel doing?” Alex asked, miraculously still concerned about her even though she’d never given a damn about him.

Judging by her calm demeanor when he’d spoken to her on the phone, Max could only come to one conclusion: “She’s fine.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel gently pushed open her son’s bedroom door to peek in at him. It had been quite the chore getting him to sleep last night—he’d been completely shaken up and full of questions, and she refused to tell him much. He knew Daddy wasn’t coming back. He didn’t need to know why. Not yet. He’d probably find out soon enough when one of the kids at daycare mentioned something they’d overheard a parent gossiping about, but for a few days at least, he could live in semi-ignorance. He was sleeping calmly now, and that was what mattered. Hopefully she could get his mind on other things as the day wore on. She had to go to the police station to answer some questions and record her statement, but he’d be with Max and Liz while she was doing that. And afterward, when they got home, they could play some board games. Garret liked board games. She could be a good mom and play board games with him.

She headed downstairs and stood in the kitchen for a moment, taking in the blissful serenity. Sure, the living room carpet was still blood-stained, but she’d done some massive scrubbing last night and gotten it to fade. A little bleach, and it would be good as new. Other than that, the house was almost . . . beautiful. Cluttered, still, and dirty, but beautiful in its lack of Alex Whitman. He would never walk through that doorway again. He would never sit on the couch or walk up the stairs, never reach into the refrigerator for a beer, never use the shower or sleep in her bed. He was . . . gone. He was really, really gone.

Her entire body tingled with delight. She turned on the radio, blasting U2’s “Beautiful Day” as an anthem, and danced around the kitchen as she cooked a four-course breakfast for herself and her son.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What had been the point of even lying down in bed? Michael rather would have paced all night. But he and Maria had dutifully crawled into bed as though it had been an ordinary night, both of them deluding themselves into thinking that they might possibly fall asleep. When the alarm clock rang out, signaling the start of yet another long day, he knew it wasn’t waking her up any more than it was waking him. He sat up and shut it off, momentarily contemplating lying back down and pretending to be tired when, in reality, every inch of him was alive and seething. He decided to stay sitting up in bed, waiting for her to do the same. But she just lay there on her side, eyes open, blankly staring.

He rubbed the knuckles on his right hand, scraping away at the blood that was still somehow caked on there. He’d washed his hands about two dozen times, but still . . . maybe it was just his imagination.

“Maria?” he said.

No response.

He tried again. “Maria?”

This time, she slowly looked back over her shoulder at him.

“I think I need to go see a doctor,” he revealed.

Concern etched onto her features. “Why?” she asked, twisting around to face him. She sat up slowly.

“My hand,” he said, holding it out for her to see. “Look at it.” His knuckles were cracked and bruised, and his pinky finger was too far outstretched to the right. He’d probably sprained it.

“You need stitches,” she said,” tracing her delicate fingers atop his knuckles.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I have to go down to the police station first, though.”

“How long will that take?”

“Hopefully not long.” He really didn’t want to be there any longer than he had to. He was tired of being at places like the police station, like hospitals and cemeteries. Cold, unfriendly places that he could have avoided.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, pressing down a bit harder on his knuckles.

He shrugged. “Probably.”

She gave him a confused look.

“If it does,” he said, “I don’t feel it.”

She frowned. “This is metaphorical numbness, right? It’s not really numb?”

“No, it hurts,” he acknowledged. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, though. The mix of emotions he was feeling felt a hell of a lot worse. “Are you okay?” he asked her, more worried about her than he was about himself. “You haven’t said much.”

She let go of his hand, almost immediately retreating into herself. “What is there to say?” she mumbled inexpressively. “We wanted to know who did it and now we do.”

“Yeah, but . . .” It would have been nice if it were that simple, but it wasn’t. And she had to know that. “I don’t know, I guess . . . I thought it’d be a way bigger relief. I thought it’d feel like some huge weight’s been lifted from our shoulders. But it doesn’t.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have such high expectations then,” she suggested.

He stared at her in disbelief. “So you’re just gonna . . . what? Go about your daily routine now, just like it’s a normal day?” It wasn’t a normal day. No day was normal now that Macy was gone.

“What choice do I have?” she said resignedly, pushing the covers back as she climbed out of bed. She trudged into the bathroom and shut the door.

Michael sighed, running the hand that hadn’t been his punching hand through his hair. Maria could say whatever she wanted to, but he already sensed her detaching herself again. And that never led to anything good.

Dammit, he thought. Just when I hoped things were starting to get better . . .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max draped a blanket over his wife’s shoulders. She was sitting on the couch, nearly motionless besides the shivering. It didn’t matter that the air conditioner was busted and it felt hot in their apartment. She couldn’t stop trembling.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, smiling appreciatively.

He sat down beside her, resting his hand atop her leg. “You okay?”

She nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah. It just really freaked me out to see Alex like that. I just . . .” She gulped. “I wish we’d been wrong.”

“Me, too.” There were a million things he wished he could have done, like stopping Alex’s drinking right from the start. All the nights he’d gone out to the bar with him, watched him slip further and further into his addiction . . . he could have done something better, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own stupid life, his stupid company that didn’t even exist anymore.

“Is it wrong to still care about him?” Liz asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I hate what he did, but still . . . he’s our family.”

“No, it’s not wrong,” he assured her quickly.

“I just can’t believe he would . . .” She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, shuddering. “Do you really ever know someone?”

He stared straight into her eyes, hoping she could hear his sincerity when he said, “I know you. I love you.”

She managed a bit of a smile. “I love you, too, Max. Just promise me we’ll get through this.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about.” He looked over her shoulder at their nephew. Isabel had dropped him off about a half an hour ago since she had to go to the police station. He definitely wasn’t his usual self, though. Instead of playing, he was just sitting in the hallway, his legs folded underneath him. He looked . . . far too lost and confused for a boy who wasn’t even four years old yet.

“You should go talk to him,” she advised.

He nodded in agreement and rose to his feet, not sure what he was supposed to say. He sat down in the hallway, across from Garret, his legs outstretched. “That’s a cool airplane,” he remarked, motioning towards the toy that lay uselessly beside the little boy. “Can I see it?”

Garret just sat there with what appeared to be a permanent frown on his face. Max reached over and picked up the toy, pretending to be interested in it. “Hey, no wonder it’s cool,” he said. “I gave it to you.” He handed it back to his nephew, folding his fingers around the wings for him. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Garret waited a moment, then shook his head sadly.

“Are you worried about your dad?”

He nodded. “Daddy’s in trouble.”

Max sighed heavily. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

“Daddy’s hurt,” Garret went on. “Mommy says he’s goin’ away. I don’t know where he’s goin’.”

You will, Max thought. Someday, Garret would be old enough to comprehend all of this, and when he did, it would forever be a huge thundercloud hovering above his life.

“I’m mad,” Garret growled suddenly.

“You have every right to be mad,” Max assured him. “And sad. And scared.” He hated to see his nephew scared. “But you’re gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you. So will Aunt Liz.”

His face lit up momentarily. “Can I stay here?” he asked hopefully.

Max nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you can—you can sleep over sometimes. But you’re still gonna live at home with your mom. She needs you.”

Garret’s frown returned. He looked down at the airplane in his lap and grumbled, “I don’t like her.”

Max stared at him for a moment, then cast a wary glance back at Liz. She had overheard, and she looked worried, too. Every day, it seemed like Garret had less and less of a future.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

( )

Why do the men in my life end up in prison? Isabel sat in one of the prison phone booths, waiting for her ex, if he could really even be called that. She fidgeted with her hair, trying to make it look just right even though she didn’t have to work hard to impress him. Not that she was trying to impress him at all. He was a nobody now, just another guy in lockup. It was where he technically belonged. She knew that. But it was still weird to see him there.

A guard escorted Billy out and sat him down on the other side of the glass. He was wearing his orange jumpsuit, and he looked even more disheveled than he had when she’d come to visit him last. His hair was shaved off into a buzz cut now, and there were bruises on his face. His eyes, though opened wide, were bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Still, when he picked up the phone, he had a smirk on his face. She picked up hers as well and waited for him to say something.

“It’s about time I get a conjugal visit.”

And of course it was something like that. “Oh, I’m sure you’re having plenty of sex in there,” she retorted. “How’s it feel for a rapist to be raped?”

He flinched and looked away quickly. Apparently not good.

“Billy . . .” She honestly hadn’t meant to strike such a nerve. It was weird to imagine him in that kind . . . predicament.

“What the hell you doin’ here?” he snapped suddenly.

She shrugged, trying to act casual. “Just thought I’d stop by and see if you’re pulling off the color orange. You’re not, by the way.” She grazed her fingernails against the glass separating them, a much-needed barricade.

He plucked at his jumpsuit with his free hand, grunting indifferently.

“I heard your sentencing’s not ‘til next month,” she said. “What’re they pushing for? Ten years? Fifteen?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“Well, yeah, it kind of does.”

“No, it don’t,” he kept on adamantly; his tone left no room for debate. “Just get outta here, Isabel.”

“You want me to leave? But I look so pretty.” She twirled her hair around her left index finger, tilting her head to the side flirtatiously.

“Go back to your loser husband and your Michael Guerin fantasies,” he ordered. “I got stuff to do here.”

“Like what? Get your butt plowed?”

He winced.

How dare he try to tell her what to do. She’d stay if she wanted to. “You’re just upset because you still want me. And I still want Michael.” She leaned back in her chair, grinning excitedly. “Did you know he’s falling in love with me all over again? He just doesn’t realize it yet.”

“Great,” Billy snorted. “Came to rub it in, huh?”

“Yes. And to let you know Alex is gonna be joining you in there soon.”

Billy leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. “What’d he do?”

“Got drunk. Drove. Killed Michael’s youngest kid.”

Billy’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Yeah. Big shock all over.” Honestly, how no one had figured it out sooner was completely flabbergasting. “He’s in the hospital right now thanks to my man’s sexy, angry fists.” She smiled fondly as the sounds of the beating reverberated through her head. “Hmm. Anyway, he’ll be behind bars any day. I know you don’t know him very well, but I figure it’s good news for you. He’s submissive, so he’ll probably be a bottom.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

“I’m joking,” she said. “Or . . . maybe not. You should work your way up the prison hierarchy. Make him your bitch.”

“No, I’m not gonna be here much longer,” he informed her.

She stiffened. “Why not?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Are they transferring you somewhere else?” she guessed.

“Something like that.”

She frowned. “Am I still gonna be able to see you?”

He laughed angrily. “Why would you even want to? You never loved me.”

“No,” she agreed. “I didn’t.”

“So just leave me alone.”

Sounds like a good idea, she thought. Both Billy and Alex were on their way out of her life now, which meant that she had an abundance of time and energy to focus on Michael. He was all that mattered. All of this, the snide butt-fucking remarks, the flirting meant to torture him . . . it was meaningless in the end, just a way to pass the time. She wanted to pass time with Michael. Beneath him. On top of him. All over him.

She was about to hang the phone up when Billy said, “Isabel,” and stopped her. “Do you think you could’ve?”

“Could’ve what?” she asked.

“Loved me,” he clarified. “Do you think you could’ve loved me, if you’d let yourself?”

As much as she hated to admit it, sometimes, she’d wondered about that. She wondered a lot of things when it came to Billy. She wondered what would have happened if they actually had been able to make a go of it as a family, her and him and Garret, if he hadn’t gone and screwed things up with drugs and rape. She wondered if being with him ever could have amounted to something more than settling.

“We’ll never know, will we?” she said, hanging up the phone. She tugged down on her skirt as she walked away, suddenly not so eager to be flirty with him. She didn’t like it when he made her think about things like that. So instead, she thought about Michael, already wondering when she would get to see him next.







TBC . . .

-April

Whoa, what the hell's wrong with me? I just FORGOT to update last weekend? I'm such a space-case sometimes. I apologize. I'll have to make it a bit quick today, so thank you Ellie, Novie, and Zaneri for the feedback.

Man, it's been quite a weekend. I spent 9 hours at a junior high wrestling meet yesterday, and I went to a basketball game today! Oh, it's fun to watch them compete, though. I love it.

Anyway, enough rambling from me. Here's the overdue update. Again, I apologize.








Part 121







All Maria was doing was taking the trash outside when she was ambushed. Literally ambushed by news reporters crowded outside her door. They all had microphones and cameras, and they all wanted to hound her with questions. She could barely distinguish one from the next.

“Mrs. Guerin, how does it feel to know your daughter’s killer has been caught?”

“Do you think that justice can ever be served?”

“Do you hope the prosecutors will seek the death penalty?”

“Is it true the murderer was a family friend, Mrs. Guerin?”

She shielded her eyes from the flashbulbs of their cameras and slipped back inside, slamming the door. That was absolute chaos out there. And they didn’t even care enough to know her last name. There was no way she was going to get the trash taken out. She set the bag down next to the door. It felt like it weighed five-hundred pounds.

The back door opened, and she panicked for a moment, thinking the reporters were just barging right into the house now. But it was just Tess.

“Okay,” she said, sounding winded, “it’s officially crazy out there. I hope no one followed me around to the back.” She peered out the window cautiously, made sure to lock the door, and pulled the blinds.

Maria leaned back against the door, feeling as though her entire body were a deflated balloon.

“Oh, come here, sweetie,” Tess said, crossing the distance between them. She hugged Maria tightly and supportively. “Don’t worry. Michael will get rid of them when he comes home.”

For some reason, that didn’t make her feel any better. She no longer lived in a world where Michael could fix any problem, where he could make everything better.

“God, the press can be so insensitive,” Tess grumbled on, shaking her head in disgust. “I mean, I realize it’s their job and all, but it’s like, have a heart, you know? The least they could do is give you some space.”

Maria laughed angrily and carried the trash bag back into the kitchen. “I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me,” she sang dryly. “Papa-Paparazzi.” She tossed the bag under the sink and glanced over her shoulder at Tess. “Lady Gaga.”

“Yeah,” Tess said, frowning confusedly. “I’m a fan. I mean, she can’t even hold a candle to Britney Spears, but then again, few people can. I just . . .” She shrugged. “. . . didn’t expect you to be in a Lady Gaga mood, I guess.”

“Her lyrics are . . . fitting.” Maria sulked back into the living room and stood in front of the fireplace. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I can tell,” Tess noted, joining her. “But once Alex is officially convicted, you can . . . sleep easier, you know?” She sighed, sounding exhausted herself. “God, I just still can’t believe Alex could do something like that. I mean, as awful and unforgiveable as it was, it was an accident. But drinking and driving to begin with . . . that was a choice. And then driving off from the scene . . . that was pretty much a soulless choice. What kind of person does that?”

“People like him,” Maria mumbled. She wasn’t sure what to make of her own reaction to the development. Tess was clearly astonished, and Michael was obviously furious. But she was . . . she wasn’t sure what she was. Of course she hated Alex now, and wanted him to die, but it wasn’t burning in her like it was in Michael. She wasn’t burning. She was just . . . existing.

“You were nice to him,” Tess said sadly. “Your kids are best friends.” She shuddered visibly. “The whole thing makes my skin crawl.”

“Yep.” She stared straight into the flames, watching them eat away at the wood. They crackled rhythmically.

“Mama?”

She slowly turned and saw Miley at the top of the stairs, attempting to walk down. She had her crutches and looked a bit wobbly.

“Oh!” Tess yelped, immediately springing into action. “Miley, don’t . . .” She ran up the stairs and scooped her up in her arms. “Here, let me help you.” Carrying her downstairs, she cautioned, “Miley, honey, I don’t think your mom and dad want you trying to walk downstairs by yourself yet. You’re still recuperating; it’s dangerous. You just ask for help when you need it, okay?”

“Kay.”

“Thanks, Tess,” Maria said, not sure what she would have done if Miley had slipped and fallen.

“Yeah, no problem.” Tess looked at her a little worriedly.

“Mama, who’s outside?” Miley said inquisitively. “It’s loud.”

It took Maria moment to answer. “Oh, um . . . just news people, sweetie. They’ll go away soon.”

“When’s Daddy gonna get back?”

“Any minute now.” Of course Miley wanted to be around her dad. Who could blame her? He was still alive when he was around her.

“I wanna play a game with him.”

Tess cringed. “Um, you know what, Miley? Your dad might not feel like playing today, but I bet you could talk your Uncle Kyle into it. Does that sound fun?”

Miley thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah?” Tess smiled at her. “Good.”

Good. Maria thought she’d said the word out loud, but she hadn’t. Oh, well.

Miley looked at the fireplace and hid her face in her aunt’s hair. Fire probably wasn’t something she wanted to see. She saw it in her nightmares all the time. But Maria just kept staring.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Glad that’s done?” Kyle asked as he drove Michael home from the police station and the hospital.

“Oh, yeah. Really glad I’m not gettin’ charged with anything.” He picked at the bandages on his right hand. The doctor had assured him that he hadn’t done any serious long-term damage, but he had sprained his pinky finger and could expect that to act up periodically for the rest of his life. But he’d made a clear point of telling him that his artistic abilities wouldn’t be affected. Which was great, except he doubted he’d ever have any artistic inspiration ever again.

“Fists of fury are definitely allowed under the circumstances,” Kyle said. “Just don’t ever Hulk-out on me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Michael propped his elbow on the armrest and looked out the window as they turned onto the residential streets. He flexed and un-flexed his hand a few times, the bandages limiting the movements.

“You know, it’s kinda fashionable,” Kyle joked. “Like Michael Jackson and the one white glove. Without the unpleasant Vitelligo associations, of course.”

Michael just snorted, unable to find his sense of humor at the moment.

“You talk to your parents yet?” Kyle asked him.

“Yeah, this morning. Told ‘em what was going on. They talked about coming here for the weekend; but my dad’s missed so much work these past few months, so I just told ‘em to stay put.” Truthfully, he’d been a bit more concerned about having to take care of them in addition to taking care of Maria, so that was why he’d told them to hold off on their visit. “But maybe going to see them in Texas . . . maybe something like that could be nice for Miley and Maria.”

“Yeah,” Kyle agreed.

“You think?”

“For sure. Just get away for awhile.”

He nodded. “Next week or something. Maybe.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Kyle leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel tightly when they turned onto Alvarado Street. “Holy . . .”

“What?” Michael glanced up ahead and saw the spectacle. Outside his house were three local news vans. Reporters lined the driveway and crowded around the porch. When they all saw him, they pointed and ran towards the street.

“Alright, we’ll just barge right past ‘em,” Kyle said, pulling the car to a stop on the side of the road. “Come on.” He opened the door and sprang out, acting like a body guard as he cleared a path for Michael.

“Mr. Guerin, how are you feeling about this new development in your daughter’s murder case?” one of the reporters asked. Michael couldn’t tell who it was, nor did he care; he couldn’t distinguish the voice among the masses.

“Do you have anything to say to the public?”

“Is it true that you tried to kill Alex Whitman after you found out?”

He tried to hide his bandaged hand in his coat pocket, though he was sure cameras had already snapped a picture. He shielded his eyes against the blinding glare of the flashbulbs.

“Back off,” Kyle snapped, literally shoving people aside. “Give him some space.” He managed to get Michael up to the porch, but before slipping inside, suggested, “Maybe you should say something, just to get ‘em to go away.”

Michael sighed and looked out on the mass of reporters. They were all still barking questions at him, but the moment he cleared his throat and started to speak, they were silent: “My family and I would appreciate some privacy during this difficult time,” he said. “Please stop sensationalizing this.”

Clearly they didn’t hear him, because they just started hounding him with questions again. “Mr. Guerin . . .”

He and Kyle hastily went inside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel hovered over Alex’s hospital bed, leaning in close to inspect the bruises on his face. No fair. They were already starting to fade.

There was a security guard in the room with them, monitoring everything she did and said, so she had to censor herself when she insulted him: “Loser.” It wasn’t an original insult by any means, but it summed up his entire existence.

She figured it was a waste to spend any more time there, so she turned to leave, but before she could walk out the door, Alex coughed, cleared his throat, and hoarsely said her name. “Isabel.”

Against her better judgment, she slowly turned around to hear him out. “What?”

“Do me a favor,” he said, clutching one hand to his throat as though it were sore.

She gave him an annoyed look. Was that a command? Because she didn’t take commands from him. Never had.

“Please,” he added.

So it was a request. That was more like it. She took requests, occasionally, as long as they served her overall best interest.

“My dad’s gonna be released from jail soon,” he said. “Make sure he knows not to come here. Tell him what I did. Tell him I’m . . .” He smiled sadly. “I’m following in his footsteps.”

“Alex. He committed white collar crime. You drank, drove, and killed babies. I’d say your footsteps are way bigger than his.”

He winced. “Will you just tell him?”

She didn’t want Chuck Whitman to fly on out to Santa Fe. After finally getting rid of one Whitman-shaped burden, she wasn’t eager to fill the void with another. “Sure,” she decided. “I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes at how pathetic he sounded and left the room. The next time she saw him, he’d probably be donning an orange jumpsuit like Billy was, and they’d be separated by a plate of glass.

On her way down the hospital hallway, she saw a family of three: a mom, a dad, and a son. The boy was about Garret’s age, and the parents were young. They even looked like her and Michael.

It was a sign. It was a good omen of things to come. She watched the family joking and laughing, even though they were in the hospital, and she was filled with an overwhelming sense of confidence. She knew getting Alex out of her life was only the first of many steps towards achieving the dream life with Michael, but it was all progress.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess stared at the envelope, barely able to hold it still. Her hands were shaking.

“Good morning,” Kyle greeted as he treaded downstairs.

“Morning,” she returned, setting the other mail aside.

“What’d we get?” he asked, heading into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Oh, you know, the TV Guide, bills . . . paternity test results.”

“Oh, really? Can I see the TV Guide?”

Tess gave him an incredulous look.

“Kidding,” he said, abandoning the coffee to come stand by her side.

“Well, I’m glad at least one of us can be lighthearted about this,” she said.

“Hey, if I don’t lighten the mood, I’ll throw up.”

“Me, every morning,” she pointed out.

He smiled sympathetically, then let out a heavy breath and got serious. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

“I know.” In some ways, she wished it had come sooner; in others, she wished they were still waiting for it to arrive. “Do you wanna do it, or should I?”

“I can,” Kyle offered, holding out his hand. She gave him the envelope, still trembling with nerves. He started to peel back the flap of the envelope, hesitating. “Are you sure you want me to?”

“Yes,” she said before quickly reconsidering. “No.”

“No.”

“Look, I know I’m the one who insisted we have this done in the first place, and I still do wanna know,” she said, “but I feel like maybe it’s not the right time.”

He frowned confusedly. “What do you mean?”

“With everything else that’s going on . . .” She trailed off and pantomimed the rest, curling her hands into fists, pretending to throw punches.

“Boxing?” he asked.

“No. Michael and Maria and . . . and Alex.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t even imagine how stressful their lives would become if, in addition to managing Michael and Maria’s ever-present crises, they found out she was carrying the child of a rapist. It would be too much. Just too much.

“So we should . . . we should wait?” Kyle concluded uncertainly.

“We don’t need to add to the drama.”

“Maybe it won’t be dramatic.”

“Kyle, it’s a paternity test. It has to be dramatic.”

He sighed. “I know.” His fingers slid along the edge of the envelope, and Tess could tell he still wanted to know. Truthfully, she did, too, and having the results back and not being able to look at them was going to be absolute torture. Maybe . . . maybe it was like peeling off the Band-aid, and it was best to just do it fast.

The front door opened, and Michael came in, looking a bit disheveled.

“Michael,” Tess said.

“Hey.”

“You braved the press,” Kyle remarked.

“Yeah, they’re starting to dwindle. I think they’re finally realizing the only video they’re capturing is Frank taking a piss.”

“Riveting stuff in its own right,” Kyle joked.

Michael laughed a little, but . . . only a little. “You guys got any milk?” he asked.

“Sure.” Tess motioned towards the kitchen. “Have at it.”

“Thanks.” He walked past them and bent down to rummage through the fully-stocked fridge. “Miley wants cereal, but we don’t have any milk. I forgot to go to the store this weekend.” He sounded almost ashamed of that fact.

“Help yourself,” Kyle said. “We got plenty.” He gave Tess a look and waved the envelope around a little bit.

She nodded, understanding, and said, “Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we, um . . . can you help us with something?”

He shut the refrigerator door and came back towards them with a half-gallon skim milk carton in hand. “What is it?”

“Well, we got the results of our paternity test back,” she said, “and we’re trying to decide whether or not to open them.”

“Having second thoughts?” he guessed.

“No. No, there’s just so much other stuff going on.”

Michael set the milk down on the end table, seeming to understand what they were talking about. “No, you guys, don’t—don’t worry about that. If you wanna know, you should know.”

“Okay,” Kyle said, “then let’s go for it.” He peeled back the seal and took hold of the paper inside, but he couldn’t quite seem to pull it out. “We’re goin’ for it,” he said, nearly frozen in place.

“If you guys wanna be alone, I can . . .” Michael motioned to the door.

“No, you can stay,” Tess said. “Maybe . . .” She sensed that Kyle wasn’t going to be able to look at the results, and she knew she would be too timid, too, so she looked to Michael for help. “Maybe you could open it for us?”

“Yeah, I don’t even know what I’m lookin’ for.” Kyle handed the envelope over to him.

“Well, I’d be expert.” Michael took the folded paper out of the envelope. “You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kyle answered quickly. He turned to Tess and said, “Look, honey, it’s like I said, I’ll be the father no matter what. We can do this.”

“I know.” Still, she would feel a lot better if that baby had no biological connection to Billy Darden whatsoever.

Michael unfolded the paper almost painstakingly slowly and looked it over a moment. Tess held her breath while Kyle held her hand, squeezing tightly. This is it, she thought. This was going to affect the rest of her life. And Kyle’s. If the baby wasn’t his, the decision still wasn’t set in stone, even though she did feel like they were a stronger couple now than they had ever been.

Slowly, a smile crept across Michael’s face. “Congratulations,” he said. “You guys are having a baby.”

Tess’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Wait,” Kyle spat, “you mean . . . am I . . .”

“You’re the dad,” Michael said, showing him the results. “See, it says right here that the DNA samples match up. And then all this stuff down here is all the specific matches they found.”

“Let me see,” Tess said, seizing the paper from him. She looked over it in astonishment, unable to believe that what she was seeing was true. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “So it’s like a for sure thing? It’s Kyle’s baby?”

“Yeah.” Michael couldn’t stop smiling.

Kyle, too, was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, come here,” he said, swooping her up in his arms.

“Kyle . . .” She held onto him tightly, perfectly content to never let go.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, his breath rustling her hair. He spun her around, and she squealed excitedly.

“We’re having a baby! You and me.”

He set her down on her own two feet again and gazed at her adoringly. “You and me.”

She felt giddy. All the way from her toes to the tips of her fingers . . . just full of giddiness.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, then turned to Michael and said, “Come here, man.” He brought his best friend into the hug, and Tess threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, too. In the midst of all the bad things that had happened over the past six weeks, this news was a ray of sunshine, a source of hope.








TBC . . .

-April

Well, I filled out my tax documents today, and I was feeling pretty wiped and wondering if I'd be able to update. And then I glanced at the unending stack of essays I need to grade and realized that's what I'd have to do if I chose not to update. So updating it is.


Ellie:

And this happy news is a BIG bright spot in the drab and dreary that is life for the other two members of the Core 4.

It certainly is! For awhile there, I toyed with the idea of having it go the other way, but I felt like you readers would need (just as much as the characters need) some good news in this story. Plus, I like the contrast of Tess and Kyle's hardships resolving themselves as Michael and Maria's get progressively worse.

And I hate to voice it, or even think it - but if Isabel trying to get her hooks back into Michael is what it takes for her to wake up? Then I'm all for it.

Great ... no I need to go and vomit & stick my head in an oven for what I just said.

Whoa. That's a big statement.

PML:

I've been following this story on and off for a while. Your writing is wonderful and I definately feel for the characters.

One thing though, the part that got me to actually post some feedback is this question. Where is the divine lightning? How much chaos and destruction is one woman allowed to weild? Seriously, Isabel needs to get hit by a truck or something. Garret needs some people who actually love him take care of him and....

And then there is the whole Maria situation. Sigh.

Excellent story.

Hey, PML! Welcome to the thread! (If you've left feedback before, I've probably already welcomed you, but I'm getting old and senile and can't remember if you have. So in case I haven't already welcomed you, welcome!)

I'm glad you're enjoying the story, although I'm sure it's frustrating you just like it is everyone else. As for this "divine lightning" you ask for . . . my lips are sealed!

Novy:

Glad RL has been fun.

Oh, and it's about to get even more fun, because there is a middle school dance again this week and I get to chaperone again! I don't know why I love those things so much, but it's seriously like the highlight of my week.

This won't be your last story right? You'll always come back to us?

[/quote]

I like to think I will. I've definitely noticed that fanfic has had to take a backseat to my career this year, but I'm still making it a priority and still loving it. If I can just finish this fic up at some point, then I can get started on this new one that I've had the idea for for freaking ever now!


Thank you for the feedback! Mucho appreciation.








Part 122








Maria dumped the entire basket full of laundry on her bed and started sorting it into shirts, pants, socks, underwear, and Miley’s clothes, which were plentiful enough to merit their own separate category.

“Hey, good news,” Michael said, slipping into the bedroom. “Tess and Kyle got their paternity test results back. Turns out Kyle’s the dad.”

She stopped sorting immediately. “Is he really?”

“Yeah.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. Thank God. I don’t know what they would’ve done if . . .”

“Yeah. I mean, it doesn’t change what happened to her, but . . . they’re pretty relieved.”

“I’m sure.” She felt genuine emotion for the first time in awhile. Genuine happiness, even. “Wow, that’s . . . that’s really good news.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d be glad to hear that. This family could definitely use some good news once in awhile.”

She nodded in agreement, sitting down on the mass of clothes piled on the bed. “When did they find out?”

“Just now. I was over there when they did.”

She frowned. “So . . . so they didn’t want me to be there?”

“What? No, it wasn’t like that,” he assured her quickly. “I just stopped over for some milk.”

“Oh. Good. I thought maybe they were excluding me ‘cause of the miscarriage.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Good, because I’m not that breakable. I can handle seeing Tess pregnant. I’m happy for her.”

“I know.”

“I’m doing better now. Have you noticed?”

He pushed some of the laundry aside and sat down beside her. “I noticed you’re not really reacting much to the Alex news. I thought you’d be . . . madder, I guess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m mad. I hate the guy. I’d kill him myself if I could. But I can’t.”

“I just wanna make sure you’re dealing with it.”

She scooted away from him slightly, not exactly comfortable with her behavior being under a microscope. “I don’t get it, Michael,” she snapped. “When I shut down and let myself feel depressed, you don’t like it. When I try to keep going and move on with my life, you don’t like that, either. What do you want me to do?”

“Hey, relax,” he said, reaching out to stroke her hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s just . . . let’s just focus on Tess and Kyle’s good news, alright?” She didn’t answer, so he said it again. “Alright?”

She nodded mutely.

“Alright.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“I’m gonna go congratulate them,” she announced, getting up from the bed. Michael could finish sorting through the laundry on his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, just waiting for Liz to join him. He knew she couldn’t resist. He smiled to himself as he heard her slip inside the bathroom and quietly take off her clothes. A few seconds later, the shower curtain was sliding back, and she was standing behind him, snaking her arms around his midsection.

“Mmm,” she moaned, resting her head against his shoulders. She sounded . . . content. It felt good to make someone feel that way.

He turned around, standing just far enough away from her so that he could admire the way the water droplets trickled down her skin, down the sides of her breasts and over her hips before gradually veering inward and trailing between her thighs. She blushed beneath his gaze and tickled his waist with her fingertips, enticing him.

He threaded his hands through her hair, pressing his body against hers in a way that moved her further beneath the water. When she was in the right position, he pressed her back into the corner, urging her to balance on one leg while he hoisted the other up and wrapped it around his waist. She dug the heel of her foot into his backside, pulling his groin closer.

“Shit,” he swore as his erection brushed against her folds without penetrating. He had to have her, so he slid right in, mimicking the movements with his tongue when he kissed her simultaneously. As romantic as this could have been, it wasn’t going to be. His girl—his wife—wanted to straight-up fuck, and he was more than willing to oblige, so he started thrusting hard right away. She frantically reached out for something to hold onto, but her hands slipped against the wet walls of the shower, and she ended up holding onto his shoulders instead. When she began to lose her footing with the force of his movements, he lifted her up off the shower floor entirely, managing to stay inside her while she wrapped both legs around his waist and moaned words of encouragement.

He came once before the shower water turned cold, but he wasn’t about to end things without getting her off, too; so they hurriedly got out of the shower, wrapped up together in a single towel, and staggered out into the hallway.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, okay?” she murmured against his lips.

“Okay.” His thoughts exactly.

“Okay.” She kissed him quickly, then jumped back a little and exclaimed, “Oh, god!” when she looked out into the living room.

“Jesus,” Max swore when he saw his sister and his nephew standing there.

“Garret, cover your eyes,” Isabel instructed calmly. The little boy did as he was told.

“Isabel,” Liz grumbled, reaching back into the bathroom for her robe. She slipped into it quickly without showing off any body parts she shouldn’t have and allowed Max full use of the towel. “What’re you doing here?”

“He wants to hang out with his aunt and uncle,” she explained. “God knows why.”

Max tightened the towel around his waist, tucking it in on the side to keep it from falling down. “Well, we were kind of in the middle of something,” he pointed out.

Isabel just motioned to Garret, who was still covering his eyes with his hands.

“But we can postpone it,” Max resigned. Garret was probably the only person he would sacrifice his sex life for.

“Garret, are you hungry?” Liz asked. “I can make you a sandwich.”

He slowly uncovered his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re very welcome. You can help me.” Liz held out her hand and escorted him into the kitchen. “What kind do you want? Peanut butter?”

“Yeah.”

Max watched them adoringly for a moment, wishing he could give Liz a child like that. Because she would have been a good mom. But maybe it was all for the best. He and Liz were too unpredictable to be parents. They weren’t stable enough. In fact, the only couple more unstable than them was Isabel and Alex. And the weird thing was, even though Alex was going to prison for a long time, Max sensed he and Isabel would never stop being a couple.

“So what’re your plans now?” he asked his sister.

“Well, I have to get the visual of you and Liz screwing out of my mind,” she replied. “That’s pretty much my top priority.”

“Hmm.” That was a nice deflection, but he wanted real answers. “And what about him?” he asked, motioning to Garret as he dug his entire hand into the peanut butter jar, much to Liz’s amusement. “What’re your plans for him? Are you gonna keep using me as a babysitting service?”

“Take it as a compliment, Max. He likes spending time with you.”

“Well, when’s he gonna like spending time with you?”

She sighed and admitted, “Probably never.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

She shrugged. “I’m his mother; not his friend.”

“Why can’t you be both?” He wasn’t a parent, and he’d never even read any parenting handbooks, but even he knew Isabel’s relationship with her son was going to require some serious work, especially now that she would be his sole parent.

“Okay, Max, spare me the lecture on parental responsibilities,” she snapped. “You have no idea what it’s like to raise a child. And thankfully, you never will.” She grinned smugly and haughtily tossed her hair over her shoulder on the way out.

Downtrodden, Max looked at Garret and Liz again. They were smearing peanut butter on each other’s faces now, both of them having a great time. But he’d go home at the end of the day, and he and Liz would resume what they’d started in the shower. But it would never amount to what it was meant to. As much as he loved her, he knew he was still holding her back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess snuggled up close to Kyle that night, tingling all the way from the tips of her toes to the strands of her hair. She hadn’t felt like this for a long, long time, so full of hope that things could get better, that they already were getting better.

“I’m so happy right now,” she said, crawling her fingers up from his stomach to his chest. “Like, I was so prepared for the worst, I never expected it to go the way we wanted it to.”

“I know.” He laughed a little, tightening his arm around her. “I’m so relieved. We’re gonna be parents. Do you realize that? Parents. And damn good ones at that.”

“I still feel horrible for tricking you into it, though. That was so wrong.”

“But after everything that’s happened since then . . .” He trailed off, rubbing her shoulders. “It’s no big deal.”

She tilted her head back far enough to give him a look, a that’s-so-not-true kind of look.

“Okay, it is a big deal,” he acknowledged, “but we’re past it. And now I’m ready to be a dad. I want to be a dad. Like I literally can’t wait to be a dad.”

She smiled and propped herself up to lean in and kiss him. “Mwah!” she exclaimed exaggeratedly. “Okay, tell me the truth: Am I starting to show?” She rested one hand atop her stomach self-consciously. “Because I know it’s kind of hard to believe, but I’m already eleven weeks along.”

“Well . . .” Kyle licked his lips and hesitated before answering. “You’re small, so when you gain weight, it’s really noticeable.”

Her eyes widened in horror at the way that sounded.

“I mean . . .” He quickly backtracked. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know what I mean.”

“I’m showing a little bit?”

“Yes, you’re showing a little bit.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “See, we’re so in sync. It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

“Maybe I am,” she joked, leaning in to kiss him again. Just like any other woman, she wasn’t enthused about gaining weight, but if she was gaining weight for the sake of pregnancy, she could definitely handle it. Love it, even.

“Maria seemed happy for us,” she said, crawling completely on top of him so that she could use his chest as a pillow.

“She was,” he agreed, rubbing her back. “She was happy.”

“You don’t think it was all just an act?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good.” She closed her eyes, letting the blissfulness of sleep come nearer. “But we still have to be really sensitive to everything she’s going through. Because it’s a lot.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“That would’ve been really neat if she and I had gotten to be pregnant at the same time, go through it together.”

“Yeah. It’s too bad it didn’t work out that way.” He smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “She and Michael will have another baby, though. Someday.”

“I hope so.” They were people who were clearly meant to be parents, and their children were so lucky to have them, even if they didn’t have them for long. “Maybe . . . maybe having a little niece or nephew around will be good for them.”

Kyle’s smile was actually audible. “It’ll be good for everyone.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Michael didn’t start to reconsider checking in on Isabel until it was too late. He didn’t even have to knock on the door. She must have seen him standing out there on the porch, because she opened it and smiled. “Michael.”

“Hey.”

“Hey. Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” Mixed up in all this chaos was the fact that she and Garret had, in a sense, lost a family member, too. Regardless of how they felt about him, it was something they hadn’t asked for and something they didn’t deserve.

“That’s sweet,” she said, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

He crossed the threshold hesitantly, half expecting Alex to jump out from behind the door or behind the couch. He couldn’t ever see him again, at least not outside a court of law, because if he ever did, he’d kill him without a second thought.

He looked at the spot on the beige carpet that had been bloodstained merely days ago and noticed that it was only a slightly darker shade of beige now. “It came out,” he remarked.

“Yeah.” She stared at him sympathetically, and it was as though both of them knew there was no more they could say about that.

“Hi, Mr. Guerin,” Garret said politely from the living room.

“Hi, Garret.” Michael waved at the kid, glad to see that he looked okay. He was dancing around in front of the TV using a Wii controller. “How’s he doing?” he asked Isabel quietly.

She shrugged. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he knows it’s not good. I splurged and got him that thing to take his mind off all the drama.”

“Hmm. Kyle has a Wii. They’re fun.”

“Maybe Miley can come play with him when she’s . . .” She trailed off.

“When she’s,” he echoed, nodding. She was getting there. Slowly but surely, she was making more progress than he ever could have hoped for. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that, by the end of the year, she’d be dancing again.

“Well, we were just gonna play a game,” Isabel said. “You wanna join us?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I should probably . . .” He didn’t want Garret to feel like he was taking Alex’s place, even though that wasn’t his intention, even though Alex had probably never been involved enough to play games with his son in the first place. “I was just stopping by.”

“Oh.” Isabel sounded disappointed. “Okay.”

“I would if . . .” Maybe if Miley had been there . . .

“I understand,” she said. “Go be with your family.” She smiled supportively, then joined Garret in the living room, lifting him up by both his arms so that he could stand on her feet and they could dance together. Michael turned to leave, but for some reason, he didn’t walk out the door. He stopped, turned back, and decided there was no harm in playing a game.

“I guess I could stay for a little bit,” he reconsidered.

“Great,” Isabel said, not making too big of a deal about it. “Garret, Mr. Guerin’s gonna play with us.”

“Cool!” Garret exclaimed.

Michael smiled, glad that he could play some small part in making them feel better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though he hadn’t planned on losing track of time, Michael got home later than he’d intended. When he walked in the door, there was some kind of family powwow going on in the living room. Tess and Kyle were there, and Miley was sitting on the floor, playing with her Barbies.

“Where were you?” Maria asked, carrying a tray of sandwiches into the living room.

He wasn’t about to tell her he’d just spent the morning with Isabel and Garret, so he simply said, “Nowhere,” and sat down next to Kyle. “Hey, how are you guys?”

“Oh, you know . . .” Tess trailed off, smiling.

“It’s okay to say ‘happy’ or ‘really excited,’” Maria informed her.

“Yeah, we’re happy and excited for you,” Michael reassured.

Tess’s face lit up. “Okay, we’re happy and excited then.”

“Yeah, we were up all last night talking baby plans,” Kyle added on enthusiastically.

“Do you guys have any names picked out?” Maria asked, situating herself on the arm of the couch. Michael scooted over slightly to make space for her, but she didn’t budge.

“Tyler if it’s a boy, Annie if it’s a girl,” Tess revealed.

“After you mom,” Maria said. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I think it’s gonna be a boy, though.” Tess rubbed her stomach. “I have a feeling.”

Michael glanced up at Maria, and he saw her eyes glaze over as she zoned out. “I remember that feeling,” she said dazedly before returning to the conversation again.

Michael cleared his throat and asked, “Are you gonna find out the sex or not?”

“Sex is a cake,” Miley chirped. “Or a dinosaur.”

“Right,” Kyle played along, laughing a little. “Uh, no, I think we’re gonna be surprised.”

“The nursery’s green, so . . .” Tess trailed off and shrugged.

“The only downside is the clothing situation,” Kyle acknowledged. “I guess we’ll have to stock up for both genders.”

“Well, if it’s a girl, you can borrow some of Macy’s old things,” Maria offered.

Michael stiffened. Was she seriously willing to loan out those clothes? Because he supposed it could be her call, but it seemed a little strange.

“Oh, that’s . . .” Tess shifted uncomfortably, glancing questioningly at Michael. “That’s really nice,” she said delicately, “but . . . I don’t think that’d be right.”

“Yeah, we’ll just get our own clothes,” Kyle said. “You should keep Macy’s.”

We should, Michael couldn’t help but agree. They’d already lost enough of her. He hadn’t expected Maria to even suggest that.

He groaned as he got down off the couch and crawled over towards Miley. “So what do you think about all this, sweetheart?” he asked. “Your aunt and uncle are having a baby. That means you’re gonna have a cousin.”

“That’s cool,” she said.

Tess beamed again. “We think so, too.”

Kyle leaned forward, the first to reach for one of the sandwiches Maria had made. “You’re gonna be a big part of the baby’s life, Miley. It’s really gonna like you.”

“I know.”

Michael laughed a little. His daughter was not modest.

“Hey, speaking of being part of the baby’s life . . .” Tess segued suddenly. “We were wondering if we could ask you guys something.”

Michael sat up straighter, sure that he already knew what the question would be. He and Maria had asked it of Tess and Kyle twice.

“We talked it over,” Tess went on, “and it’s kind of a no-brainer, but . . .” She looked to Kyle to finish.

“Would you guys be the godparents?” he asked.

Michael smiled, but inside, he felt like something was . . . tugging. Like tugging apart. He really was happy for his friends. But at the same time, he felt cheated out of something, because Maria was supposed to have been pregnant, too. She was supposed to have been showing just a little bit by now.

“Of course,” he managed to choke out. He cautiously looked at Maria. She was putting on a brave front, but the stiffness in her jaw gave it away.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “We’d be honored.”

And just like that, they were godparents. New role for them.

“How you doin’?” he asked her when they were alone, in the kitchen washing dishes while Kyle and Tess played with their sole-surviving niece.

“Fine,” she replied too quickly. “Will you dry faster?”

He picked up a plate and swirled the towel around the interior of it quickly. “It’s kinda weird,” he remarked quietly. “Seems like just yesterday we were asking them to be Macy’s godparents.”

“Just yesterday,” she whispered.

“Kind of makes me nostalgic,” he admitted.

“Everything makes me nostalgic.”

He sighed frustratedly. It was like having a conversation from a wall . . . only you got more response from a wall. “So, Valentine’s Day’s comin’ up,” he said, carefully broaching a new subject. “Do you wanna do anything?”

She didn’t even look at him as she passed him another plate to be dried. “I don’t know.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? It’s just a holiday.”

“No, it’s . . .” Michael flicked a pebble into the weed-grown front yard. “It’s more than that.”

Isabel tensed, stretching her legs out in front of her as she tried to decipher his meaning. “Oh, do you mean . . . are you talking about four years ago?”

“What?”

“You and Maria were all set to spend a romantic Valentine’s night together, and then you walked in your apartment and saw me standing there for the first time in eight months. Pregnant. Claiming it was yours. Remember?”

He grunted. “Hard to forget.” He turned to the side, leaning against the porch railing. “It has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what is it?” She inconspicuously motioned for Garret to go back inside when he started to open the screen door and walk out. As much as she loved spending time with both of the most important men in her life, one-on-one time with Michael was something to cherish, especially when the conversation was probing to such depths.

He swallowed hard and revealed, “It would’ve been Macy’s first birthday.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh.” Crap. Now she felt completely insensitive. “I’m sorry.”

He picked up another pebble off the step and flicked it out onto the lawn. “She never even got to turn a year old. Thanks to Alex.”

She shuddered at the mere thought of his pain. “Yeah, then this definitely not just a holiday. What does Maria wanna do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about you?”

He sighed heavily, staring out at the sunset. “I just wanna make her happy.”

You’d make any woman happy, she thought longingly. Especially me. He didn’t even have to do anything to make her happy. Maria couldn’t say that.

“She’s pretty much going out of her way not to show any emotion anymore,” he lamented. “Even with all this Alex stuff . . .” He shook his head in frustration.

“Well, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. I Just know I didn’t expect . . .” He flapped his arms helplessly. “. . . this.”

“What?”

“Any of it. I didn’t expect my little girl to die. I didn’t expect to know the guy who killed her. And I never expected to have no idea how to get through to Maria.”

She felt for him. It sounded like he was putting forth all this effort, and Maria wasn’t helping at all. That stupid bitch only cared about herself. She wanted Michael to take care of her, and she never did anything to take care of him in return. “You’re doing the best you can,” she assured him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not good enough.”

She rubbed his shoulder gently. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” As much as she hated Maria for being so selfish, she loved it, too, because that meant she got to be the one in the make-Michael-feel-better position. She had to remove her hand when the urge to touch him became too much. “Look, the way I see it, you have two options,” she said. “Make it a family thing no matter what. Either you, Maria, and Miley go out and do something fun, or you devote the day to remembering Macy.”

“A family thing,” he echoed contemplatively. “Hmm. I should’ve known you’d suggest a non-romantic kind of Valentine’s Day.”

She smiled unabashedly. “Of course.” She wanted any and all romance directed towards her.








TBC . . .

-April

I'm just inexcusably bad lately. I could have sworn I updated last week, but now I remember that I went to another one of those all-day junior high wrestling meets and spaced it off. Well, wrestling season is over now, so I should be less spacey and more reliable again. Hopefully.

First off, thanks for the nominations. I see that, much to my utter shock and disbelief, this fic was nominated for Supporting Portrayal of Alex and Best Alternate Portrayal of a Canon Character (again for Alex.) REALLY wasn't expecting either of those, so that's awesome. This fic and its predecessor 521 have been going on for years now, so thank you to anyone who has recognized so many of these characters. It really means a lot.

Alright, so far so mushy. I'll keep it moving.


Ellie:

While Isabel's paying more attention to Michael or dumping her kid off on her brother & sister-in-law, Garrett is completely being ignored by the one parent he has left. Nice parenting there you selfish cow!

Does she really think that one day, when she's old and grey, Garrett won't jump at the opportunity to put her ass in a home and forget her existence? Ignore the fact that she's his mother?

The whole situation is pretty sad. She really does love him, but she just doesn't have it in her to be a good parent. If Michael wasn't in the equation, maybe she'd devote more time and energy to Garret, but . . . who knows with her.

Grace:

I love your stories April, you create some terrific, and at the same time, some of the most screwed up, hateful characters ever written. In other words, your characters seem the most realistic even though they are based on fictional characters.

Wow, thank you very much! This is very reassuring, as I sometimes worry that the drama and tragedy becomes so much and so big that it no longer seems realistic.

Anyway, on to my review, I want to speak up for Maria. Having grieved a loved one, thankfully not one lost to a tragedy like Maria has, I know how debilitating it can be.

I'm glad you recognize this. I've been saying all along that, even though Maria's grieving process is frustrating, it's not wrong for her to grieve that way.

If he loses Maria over this, too bad! I know, harsh words, but Michael should know better!

He should . . . and normally he would. But nothing has been normal for him or for anyone in that family ever since that car accident.

I know that Maria isn't the only one grieving! I know that Michael is grieving too. Although I don't think he is handling it any better than Maria is.

I agree. I think it's really easy to overlook the fact that Michael is dealing with his own grief, because, on the surface, at least, he's hiding it a lot better than Maria. But on the inside, he's just as screwed up as she is, if not even more so, because he's got this extra burden on his shoulders, this responsibility to fix her and make things better for her.

Michael needs to be more patient, and not punish her. See, I think that that is what Michael is doing, albeit unconsciously. I think he is angry at Maria for checking out on him when he needed her the most. He can't see her plight for his own plight, grief and pain imo can make us very selfish. I think he is going to Isabel, because that is what would hurt Maria the most. See, I have been wracking my brain, thinking why would he be talking to a woman who he knows is a psycho obsessed with him, confiding in someone who doesn't have his and Maria's best intersts at heart, and this is the answer I came up with. He wants Maria to find out that he is going to Isabel, in order to shake her up, and to hurt her.

Hmm, that's interesting. I don't know if I've thought about it like that before.

Claire:

I can see why she finds Michael frustrating, she is only doing her best in her own way and it isn't what he expected. Equally, I am sympathetic to Michael because as a reader, I find Maria's 'Michael will sort it' attitude exasperating.

It's a tough situation. I don't think either of them is intentionally trying to hurt the other, but it's happening anyway.

Novy:

Maria grieves by pulling away and Michael has to get involved in helping and taking care of someone it seems.That's just naturally who he is.

And in turn, he's being taken care of, in a way, by Isabel. For now, it's a bit of a win-win situation for him. He's able to help them, and Isabel helps him.

On the other hand I am glad Maria actually felt some joy about the great news. It was nice to have things lighter for a change. Gave me more hope for their future. It's fantastic to see Kyle and Tess get to finally enjoy this pregnancy. And Kyle is happy to be a dad. We've come a long way.

Yep, all hope is not lost. It's just . . . dimmed for awhile.



Thank you for the feedback!








Part 123








Michael waited until that evening to broach the subject of Valentine’s Day with Maria again. He joined her in the bathroom while she was brushing her teeth and tried to think of a casual way to bring it up in conversation. But it was hard to get the conversation started. Finally, as she ran the toothbrush over her teeth, Maria muffledly asked, “Is Miley asleep?”

“Yeah.” He leaned against the doorframe, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “She made me check for monsters.” Unintentionally, he found himself gazing at her stomach. So flat. It was so flat. And it shouldn’t have been. She should have been starting to show by now.

“What?” she asked, taking the toothbrush out of her mouth.

“Nothing,” he lied. “I was just . . . thinking about Valentine’s Day.” He cringed internally. That definitely hadn’t been a casual way to bring it up.

She spit in the sink, washed her toothbrush off, and took a drink of water. “Michael, relax. It’s just a holiday. And obsessing about it is supposed to be the girl’s job.”

He saw right through that deflection. “Maria . . . come on.” They both knew it wasn’t just a holiday.

She groaned, clearly irritated, and flapped her arms against her sides. “Fine, let’s just . . . let’s just have a normal, nice Valentine’s Day. For once.”

“For once?” he echoed.

“Yeah, we haven’t really had that before.”

He made a face. “We haven’t?”

“No. I mean, our first one together started off good but ended up ruined by Isabel. And all the ones after that have been more about doting on Miley than on each other. And then last year . . .” She trailed off, averting her eyes. “It’s supposed to be a romantic day,” she mumbled, “so let’s just make it romantic. Just you and me.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d discussed with Isabel, but Isabel wasn’t his Valentine. “Alright,” he agreed. “You wanna go out to eat or maybe see a movie or . . .” How come all those dates sounded so lame? How come he couldn’t think of anything less cliché?

“We could just stay in,” she suggested.

“And do what?”

She grazed her fingers over the edge of the sink, silent communicating the answer.

“Oh.” Sex.

“Don’t sound so excited,” she grunted sarcastically.

“No, it’s not . . .” He didn’t want to make her feel bad, make her feel like he didn’t want her. “I just didn’t think you’d wanna do that again so soon. Wasn’t all that long ago you were gonna have a hysterectomy so you wouldn’t get pregnant again.”

She wordlessly opened the top drawer and tossed him a condom. Then, as if she’d had second thoughts, she tossed him the entire box.

He smiled a little. “Funny.”

“No, not really.” She clutched her stomach for a moment, a gleam of sadness in her eyes. But soon after, she stared at him as though she were perfectly fine again.

“Maria, we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” he said, setting the condoms down on the edge of the sink. “I’m not pressuring.”

“I know,” she assured him, “but I want things to be normal again. So let’s just do it. Let’s get back to normal.”

He frowned, not sure if this was going to get at the romance aspect of the holiday. So far, it seemed to be strictly business. “Okay,” he agreed nonetheless. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She brushed past him and muttered, “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.” He folded his arms across his chest, squeezing one of the small foil packages in his hand. If she decided she wanted to sleep with him, he couldn’t realistically turn her down, even though he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle held Tess’s hair out of her way while she leaned forward and vomited repeatedly into the toilet. She’d been going at this for about fifteen minutes straight now. It was insane that someone so small could have so much in there. Kyle felt utterly useless; he hated seeing her in so much agony.

“Well, this brings back memories,” he said, gently releasing her hair when she flushed the toilet.

“Of what?” She wiped her mouth off with a tissue.

“Things you can’t remember because—I hate to break it to you, but not every night of our four years together has been a sober one for you.”

“This is totally different,” she pointed out, sitting limply next to the toilet. “And you shouldn’t make jokes about drinking, not after . . .” She trailed off.

“Right.” He put the lid of the toilet seat down, prepared to lift it back up at any minute, because whenever it seemed like she was done, she usually started right back up again.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “I don’t mean to be snippy.”

“Hey, by all means . . . you just puked out all your insides; be as snippy as you want,” he urged.

She smiled weakly. “Thank you for being so wonderful.”

“I feel so bad for you, watching you go through this.”

“Comes with the territory.” She held out her hand, and he stood up, pulling her along with him. “And it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

“Life-changing in the end,” he added, squeezing her hand supportively. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head to the side quickly.

“Oh, no, you do not wanna do that,” she warned.

He settled for a cheek kiss instead, then left her alone to wash up. He trotted downstairs to pour her a glass of ginger ale. That and saltine crackers seemed to be about all her stomach could handle.

Michael came inside the front door right as Kyle was walking past. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Kyle returned, continuing into the kitchen. “How’s it goin’?”

“Alright. What about you?”

He rummaged around the cupboards, trying to locate a clean glass. There wasn’t one. He’d volunteered to take over the majority of household chores now that Tess was pregnant, but he’d already fallen behind on dishwashing duty. “Rough start to the morning,” he said, using a plastic cup instead. “For Tess, anyway.”

“Morning sickness?” Michael guessed.

“Yeah. How long did it last for Maria?”

“Pretty much the whole time.”

Kyle shook his head, discouraged, and poured the glass full of ginger ale.

“For most people, it gets better during the second trimester,” Michael said, “I think.”

Kyle threw the empty ginger ale bottle into the trash. “I get off and she gets nine months of this?” He grunted. “That’s an unfair trade.”

“It is,” Michael agreed. “All you can do right now is be there for her and give her what she needs. Oh, and there’s some medicine that could help. Maria got this pill—she called it her magic pill. It made her feel a little better.”

“A little?” Kyle wanted his wife to feel a lot better. “Man, these poor girls.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Kyle!” Tess hollered from upstairs. “I’m fine!”

He smiled adoringly. “That’s my tough girl. She’s badass.” He set the glass down on the counter, figuring he’d wait until Michael left to bring it up to her. “What’s up, man? What’re you doin’ here?”

Michael sat down at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers atop it. “I need a favor.”

“Sure, anything.”

“No, I probably shouldn’t even ask.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and you and Tess probably already have plans; but Maria and I were gonna spend some time together.” He shifted, almost as though he were . . . embarrassed. “You know,” he said, “time. You know?”

“Yeah.” Already, he could tell Michael was nervous about it. He couldn’t even say what it was out loud.

“And we need someone to watch Miley. But feel free to say no. I know that’s a lot to ask.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kyle assured him. “Tess and I need all the parenting practice we can get.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause this is the last Valentine’s Day you’ll have where it’s just the two of you,” Michael pointed out. “For awhile, at least.”

“Michael, I seriously don’t mind,” he insisted. “I love taking care of Miley. Besides, Tess and I didn’t have anything spectacular planned. We’re not quite ready to spend that kind of time together again, so . . .” He lifted the plastic glass to his lip and took the smallest sip of ginger ale he could. “To tell you the truth, I’m kinda surprised you and Maria are.”

Michael shrugged. “She says that’s what she wants to do.”

“And you believe her?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Kyle knew he wasn’t in any place to dictate what Michael and Maria did with their private lives, but it seemed a little rushed to him. “Just wear a rubber, man,” he advised. “Or two or twenty.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll be pleasurable,” Michael mumbled sarcastically, rising from his chair. “Thanks, Kyle. I’ll bring over Miley’s wheelchair and crutches. Just make sure to keep an eye on her at all times, and don’t let her sleep without her back brace.” He started to walk out, then stopped and turned back around when he thought of something else to add. “Oh, and she as all these medications she has to take. There’s this whole schedule. I’ll write it down for you.”

“Got it. Just relax and enjoy your . . . time with Maria tonight.”

“I’ll try.”

Kyle frowned. Sex wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to have to try to enjoy. “Hey, Michael?” he said, stopping his friend once again on his way out. “Take it slow with Maria tonight, okay?” He really didn’t want to see this blow up in their faces. Michael and Maria had a track record with this kind of thing: the end result was often a brand new baby, and sometimes those babies didn’t last very long. They weren’t ready for another one. It probably wasn’t even wise to put themselves in that position. “I know it might not seem like a big deal, but it is.”

Michael laughed nervously. “Actually,” he said, “that’s exactly how it seems.”

Then it’s not gonna be everything you want it to be, Kyle thought realistically. He knew what it felt like to make love to the woman you loved under a cloud of pressure—hell, that was the only kind of love they’d made back when they’d been trying to get pregnant. Even though Michael and Maria were trying for exactly the opposite, they were going to have a long night ahead of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel followed the guard back to the visitation room. Now that Alex was deemed a long-term incarceration inmate, he was allowed to meet in a room where he wasn’t separated from his visitors by a plate of glass, where they didn’t have to talk on the phone to communicate. But he was flanked on either side by two guards who were big enough to knock his head off with one single punch, and his wrists were cuffed together beneath the table.

“You know,” the guard escorting her said, “for a woman who hates her husband, you sure do come to see him a lot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil.” She’d only visited him one other time since he’d been arrested, and that had been at the hospital. But two visits was probably more than most baby-killers got. She shooed the guard away when she sat down and motioned for the other two to back up a little. They obliged.

Alex looked about ten pounds lighter already, even though he’d only been there a few days. His face was covered in bruises, so clearly he was somebody’s human punching bag. And probably a lot more than that.

“Got your letter,” she said, taking it out of her purse. She unfolded it, completely stumped as to how he’d managed to type it. “They really give you computer access in here?”

“Pens and pencils could be used as weapons,” he pointed out. “Once a week, I get to spend an hour on the computer.”

“What a privilege.” She folded the letter up again and put it back in her purse. Truthfully, she hadn’t even read most of it. There was a line at the bottom where he begged—literally begged—her to come see him. The rest all seemed to be mushy, guilty-conscience stuff about how bad he felt for everything he’d done.

“How’s Garret?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Pretty good, actually. Michael and I are helping him cope with things.”

“Michael?”

She grinned from ear to ear and nodded. Yep, her man was a part of her life again. Slowly but surely . . . and surely sexily.

He grunted in disbelief. “Whatever. Alright, look, I’m gonna make this quick.”

“You always do.” She smirked at yet another small but effective display of her wittiness.

“Something happened in here the other day,” he revealed, “and I think you should know about it.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Am I gonna care about this at all?”

“I’m not sure.”

She chipped at the nail polish on her left index finger. “Because I have a million better things to be doing. I still have to get Garret a Valentine’s present, and I’m debating whether or not to get Michael anything.” She forgot he was there for a moment and started talking to herself. “I probably shouldn’t, right? I mean, that might freak him out, and we’re in such a good place right now. I don’t wanna screw things up.”

“Isabel, Billy killed himself.”

There were only a few things in the world that could silence her completely when she was talking about Michael, and that was one of them. She froze and stared intently at him, her eyes growing wide and fearful. “What?”

He just nodded.

Billy? She shook the idea from her mind. “That’s not even funny, Alex. You shouldn’t . . .” She sat up straighter, her muscles refusing to unclench. “You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Yes, you are.” She looked at him accusingly at first, and then gradually, desperately. “Aren’t you?”

He shook his head slowly, wordless.

The truth of it all hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt it like a sucker punch to the gut, and all she could do as a reaction was to look away from him, stare dazedly at the floor, and feel sick.

“He used the sheets on his bed to hang himself,” Alex explained, “tore ‘em up into strips to make a noose.”

A shiver traveled up her spine as she pictured it. Billy . . .

“When they finally found him, he’d been dead for hours,” Alex went on. “A couple guys said they overheard him crying about what he’d done to Tess before he . . . before it happened. He was saying he was sorry. And he was saying your name, too. I don’t know anything else.” He laid his cuffed hands on the table, opening them as though he expected her to rest her hands in his and hold tight. “I’m sorry, Isabel.”

She kept looking at nothing, wishing she just didn’t care. She tried to remind herself that he was bad, that he was a rapist just like her father and her brother were. He was no better than them. He’d never been any good for her. He’d always been just a way to pass the time. That’s all she’d ever done with him was pass time. And just the fact that she was exerting all this energy thinking about him right now when she should have been thinking about Michael . . . it was wrong. It was very wrong.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, quickly getting up from the table. She scurried out of there before he could see just how affected she was by the news. She tried to exit the facility as calmly as possible, hoping that anyone who walked past her wouldn’t realize anything was bothering her. But when she stepped outside, she started remembering things: Meeting him for the first time, listening to him strum his guitar while he sat on the corner, collecting money in his open guitar case; dancing with him at Grunge that first night, his arms encircling her waist; kissing him, rolling her hips forward to meet his; feeling that same sinking feeling she felt right now when she’d found out what he’d done to Tess; seeing him for the last time behind that plate of glass, in that orange jumpsuit, wearing that look of hopelessness in his eyes. He’d always loved her, even then.

He had to have known that would be the last time they would ever see each other. But she hadn’t known. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him that she . . . she cared. She cared about him despite all her attempts not to.

She sprinted to the car when it all became too much and barely managed to get inside and shut the door as the tears exploded. A silent sob shook her body, and she leaned against the steering wheel, covering her face with her hands. How was it possible for him to be dead? It wasn’t even all that long ago that she’d had her hands all over him, and he’d had his lips all over her. And now he was just dead?

He wasn’t the kind of person who deserved any of these tears. But she couldn’t stop.

Her cell phone beeped, signaling a text message, and her first inclination was to ignore it. But she realized that she was just going to sit there and continue crying if she ignored it, and that made her feel weak, weaker than she really was. So she took it out of her purse and looked at it. She could barely read what it said when her eyes were so cloudy, but she managed to make out that it was from Michael.

Miley has a Valentine for Garret, it read. Can we swing by so she can give it to him?

She determinedly wiped the tears from her cheeks, registering what the message said. Miley. Garret. Right. They were meant to be together. And she and Michael were meant to be together more. That was what was important. Billy Darden was not important. Billy Darden never had been.

She took a few deep, steadying breaths, and texted back the only reply she could muster in that moment: Ok.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Get yourself together, Isabel. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, wiping away the smudges of eyeliner that had accumulated there. She looked awful. She couldn’t look awful when Michael was around. She had to play every card in her deck, and her appearance was the highest card she had.

Isabel was still touching up her makeup when the doorbell rang. “Garret, will you get that?” she called shakily.

He went running down the hallway and downstairs.

“Make sure it’s Michael before you open the door,” she cautioned, the few remaining shreds of maternal instinct kicking in. She took a few deep breaths to steady her emotions, trying to push all thoughts of Billy out of her mind, and listened to the sounds that arose from downstairs.

“Hi, Miley,” Garret said. “Hi, Mr. Guerin.”

“Garret!” Miley exclaimed. In her mind, Isabel pictured them hugging.

“Whoa, easy there, tiger.” Michael’s voice was nearly angelic when he called her name. “Isabel?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then snapped them open again. She wasn’t completely satisfied with the way she looked, but with the way she was feeling, it was impossible to look any better. So she headed downstairs.

“I missed you,” Miley was saying.

“I missed you, too,” Garret returned. Neither one of the kids looked at each other when they spoke, but it was adorable and sincere.

“Hey,” Michael said.

She smiled tensely, afraid that she might break, and addressed the girl on crutches because it was easier. “Hi, Miley,” she said. “What you got there?”

She slowly held up a card. She’d drawn two stick figures on the front, one with crutches and one with curly hair like Garret. It was covered in glitter and marker squiggles.

“Ooh, a card,” Isabel remarked. “Can I see?” She reached for it, but Miley pouted and held it out of her reach.

“Come on, Miley, be nice,” Michael urged.

“It’s for him,” she said, handing it to Garret. The two of them started talking quietly to themselves, and Isabel couldn’t understand a word they were saying. Half of the words probably weren’t real words, but they understood each other perfectly nonetheless.

“It’s like they’re in their own little world,” Michael said.

“Yeah.” She sniffed back tears, remembering all the times she and Billy had been in their own little world. It hadn’t been a good world, but it’d been a world nonetheless. It hadn’t even begun to compare to the world she and Michael had once created for themselves, but . . . it’d been something.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

No. “I’m fine,” she answered swiftly. What else was she supposed to say? She couldn’t cry on his shoulder about Billy’s suicide, not after Billy had raped Tess. She couldn’t feel bad about it knowing that he would (understandably) feel overjoyed.

“Did you and Maria decide on Valentine’s plans?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

He nodded, his eyes locked on Miley and Garret as they jabbered. “Yeah, we did.”

She expected him to say something more, but when he didn’t, she understood completely. Their plans were not something she wanted to hear about.

Devastation swept in on her, and it was absolute.








TBC . . .

-April

Well, this is a nice change of pace. I'm pumping out this update a day in advance instead of a week late like I've been doing. Three day weekends sure help life seem a little less busy.


Ellie:

Wow ... I'm still trying to process this chink in Isabel's armor. And yes, it's a definite chink - one she never saw coming or expected to happen.

She ... actually cared for Billy. I might go so far as to even say, she loved him - just a little bit, but it's that little bit that counts. It's what made her a sapping mess that she couldn't even make any attempts at seduction towards Michael when he came over with Miley. I'll say it again ... Whoa! I'm in absolute shock over this turn of events.

Yeah, she did care for him. Nowhere near as much as she "cares" for Michael, but far more than she ever cared for Alex. And he's a horrible person. So it's unsettling for her to feel what she's feeling. Don't expect it to hold her down for long, though. At the end of the day, she still knows what--or rather who--she wants. And Billy wasn't that person.

I don't know what to make of Maria's sudden desire to hit the sheets - so to speak - again with Michael. It feels like pouring salt on already open, festering wound. It's just gonna hurt them both in the end. I can't believe I'm saying this but, in the long run it would be best.

She's so stuck on this idea that they "should" do this, because they normally would, that she's ignoring the fact that nothing is normal and this isn't the best idea.

simplyshiny:

Hi! Just wanted to let you know I'm still reading! I look forward to the chapters every week! Actually, I was randomly thinking about this story one day and I realized, at some point, I actually started liking this story more than Passions. Now, 521 was a great story, and I totally loved it, but Passions was one of the first Roswell fics I ever read, and the first AU fic...but now, this story is just so totally awesome...heartbreaking to be sure, but awesome none the less.

Aw, thank you so much! Passion was definitely the biggest fic I'll probably ever have, just in terms of the uproar it caused, I suppose. But this one has been the most rewarding to write. I'm glad at least a few people have managed to stick with it so far, and I hope I've still got some readers left at the end, whenever that may be. I still haven't written the end yet! I'm slacking.

Novy:

It seems wrong to be sad for Isabel and for Billy. But the way you described Isabel's grief was just so sad.

Thanks! As I was reading it back, I'll admit, I was pretty happy with the way that scene turned out. It was hard to write, though, because, like you said, it seems wrong to feel sad about it in any way.

Expect for Michael all the men she was in significant relationships with ended up in jail and doing stupid stuff somehow connected to her even though they are responsible for their own decisions. It is a trippy situation.

That would have to screw you up on some level, knowing that all these men in your life, all these men that claim to care about you, fuck themselves up because of you and ruin their lives and sometimes others' lives.

Congrats on your nominations April! You have an excellent body of work here with immaculately in depth characters. Whatever you think or feel about them is never set in stone with these characters. So many grey areas.

Thanks so much! You know that's what I strive for.

Grace:

He was on the slow path to suicide through drugs

That's true. I haven't thought about it like that, but I suppose he was always killing himself in some way. He just decided to speed up the process when he hung himself.

She thinks Michael will make her happy, but he can't. One person can't make another person happy. They can contribute to your happiness, but if your unhappy, no one else can change that.

I agree. But Isabel's got all her eggs in Michael's basket, and when it comes to him . . . it's like tunnel vision. She either can't or she refuses to see that he can't fix her.


Thank you so much for the feedback!

Now . . . hold on tight. This part is a DOOZY.








Part 124








Sex. Until she’d met Michael, sex had just been a pastime for Maria. A hobby. A talent, even. But once she’d started sleeping with him, she’d realized just how much more it could be, how much more it always was. Because it wasn’t just about two bodies pressing together; it was about life. She knew that firsthand.

Maria grazed her fingertips over the bedspread that evening, waiting for her boyfriend to come join her. They hadn’t done this since the morning of what was supposed to have been their wedding. The plan had been to get married, go back home, tell him about the baby she’d been carrying, and then proceed to make love like there was no tomorrow. But that had never happened. So now this was it, the alternative. She wondered if it would be mesmerizing this time, or if it would feel meaningless.

****

“You had sex with Randy?” Tess’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she jumped on the bed. “Your lab partner?”

Maria hugged her childhood teddy bear close to her side. “Say it a little louder so my mom can hear.” Amy DeLuca would love to hear that her fourteen year-old daughter had just been deflowered.

“Sorry, but . . . your lab partner?” Tess made a face. “Him?”

“Yep. Mr. Williams left the room, so we did it right there on the lab table.” She wasn’t ashamed.

“Oh, how romantic.” Tess rolled her eyes, laughing a little. “I can’t believe it. You lost your virginity. And you’re just telling me now?”

“It happened, like, half an hour ago. What was I supposed to do, call you during?”

“No. I’m just . . .” Tess waved her hands around dramatically. “I’m in shock right now.” A shade of red crept over her face, and she leaned forward and quietly asked, “What was it like?”

Maria shrugged.

“That’s it? Just . . .” Tess trailed off and imitated her shrug.

“It’s nothing like people say it is,” Maria informed her. “Kinda awkward. Really painful. I went into the bathroom and cried for ten minutes straight after it was over. I was bleeding and everything. It was gross.”

“Ow.” Tess cringed. “So . . . so you’re not gonna do it again, right? ‘Cause it hurt.”

“Are you kidding?” Maria yelped. “Of course I’m gonna do it again. How else am I gonna get to the point where it feels good?”

Tess whimpered. “Maria, be—be careful. You could end up pregnant or something.”

Maria immediately dismissed the concern. “I won’t. But if I ever do, I’ll just get an abortion.”

Tess’s eyes bulged again with that same expression of disbelief.

“Sorry, not all of us want a million kids like you do,” Maria grumbled. She really wasn’t worried about the consequences of sex. Any boy she did it with could just wear a condom. She’d purchased some. They were glow-in-the-dark.

“Why not wait until you’re in love to do it again?” Tess suggested.

She grunted. “Because I’ll never be in love, Tess.”

****

Maria shivered, gripping the headboard nervously. She was in love with Michael. She had been for four years now. She would never be in love with anyone else. She never had been. And when they acted on that love and actually made love, it was always phenomenal. There had never been a time when it had been anything but. It had never even been mediocre. Every time she had ever been with him, she’d felt the world disappear from under her, and he became her world, and she became his. It sounded far-fetched and cliché to even think such thoughts, but it was true.

And it was in the past.

“Michael?” she called, knowing this time wouldn’t be the same. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t some undeniable, burning desire she was feeling; it was an obligation. If she didn’t do this—if they didn’t do this—how would they ever be okay again? How would life ever be normal if they didn’t do what they had normally always done?

Michael came out of the bathroom, looking a nervous wreck. He was dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, definitely an ensemble where he looked his most attractive. And she was attracted to him. But the attraction wasn’t consuming her the way it should have been, the way it used to.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled forward. “You look nice,” he complimented her.

She knew that wasn’t true. She was wearing sweatpants and hadn’t even bothered to comb her hair. She hadn’t even tried.

“Well,” he said, standing awkwardly in front of her. “I guess we can . . .” He trailed off and looked around the room nervously. The lighting was dim and romantic, yet there was nothing romantic about this.

He let out a shaky breath and said, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Because your expectations are too high, she thought but refused to say. If he was approaching this more realistically like she was, knowing it wasn’t going to be the best sex they’d ever had, he would have been more at ease. But he wanted it to be like it always had been.

Touch him, her mind screamed at her. That was what she would have normally done. So she rested one hand on his shoulder and slid it downward, over his chest, grazing against his abdomen before arriving at his jeans. She dipped two fingers into the waistline and tugged outward.

“Wait, Maria,” he said, quickly brushing her hand away, “slow down.”

She frowned, disappointed that he wanted this to drag out. Normally, she was all for foreplay, but not tonight. She just wanted to get down to it.

“Slow down, okay?” he repeated, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His touch was almost too tender to be real in that moment; and when he bent his head to capture her lips in an equally tender kiss, it nearly frightened her, because she didn’t have that kind of softness in her anymore.

He held both her shoulders and pulled her in close to him as his mouth mingled with hers. She wondered if he noticed how tense she was becoming. In contrast, he was relaxing more and more, almost as if he were trying to persuade her to relax now, too.

It’s too much, she thought as he threaded one of his hands through her hair. She couldn’t allow him to build it up, to hype the sex they were about to have up into this mind-blowing thing when it wasn’t really going to be. So she broke off the kiss prematurely and abandoned the notion of taking things slow by sliding her sweatpants down over her hips, letting them pool at her feet. He stared at her confusedly, but before he could protest, she grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and tugged upward. He relented to her forcefulness, raised his arms up, and let her pull the shirt off. She tossed it flippantly to the floor, shuddering as she stood before his bare chest. They were really doing this. For the first time, she contemplated that it might be a mistake, but it was too late to stop now.

“You okay?” he asked, holding her hands in his.

She nodded dazedly, wishing she could muster up enough spirit to smile. She slipped her hands out of his and crisscrossed her arms to reach down and pull her shirt over her head. She let it drop to the floor and stood before him in only her panties then. Almost immediately, he put his hands on her hips, almost as if he were preventing her from undressing herself completely.

Slowly, he smoothed his hands around her waist to rest in the small of her back. He pulled her close to him so that their bare chests were pressing together. She turned her head to the side and rested her cheek against him, holding onto the waistline of his jeans as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. He rested his chin atop her ahead, seemingly content to just stand there and hold her for a minute. But she wasn’t content, so she arched her chest against him, trying to wordlessly communicate that she wanted to keep this moving.

“Come here,” he said, keeping his arms around her as he sat down on the side of the bed. He pulled her down atop his lap, one leg on each side so that she was straddling him. She felt incredibly uncomfortable and exposed, so she lowered her head. Her hair fell forward, shielding most of her, but he immediately brushed it back over her shoulders and placed his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up. He tried to smile encouragingly, but his own uncertainty still shown through.

“Michael, let’s just . . .” She trailed off when he resumed his slow, prolonged caresses again, smoothing his hands back and forth across her collarbone this time. Eventually, his hands roamed lower, and he cupped her breasts. He surveyed her face as he kneaded her flesh, almost as though he were waiting for some sort of reaction, but she could give him none. Even when he circled his thumbs around her nipples, all she could do was close her eyes.

He snaked one hand back up to cup her neck. What little sexual instinct she still felt told her to bend her neck to the side his hand was touching, and he seized the opportunity to bend forward press one gigantic, sucking kiss to her pulse point. His breath was hot on her skin, and when she arched her neck back further, he kissed her again, lapping at her skin with his tongue. He was an expert at this. He knew exactly what to do to make her moan . . . so he had to feel frustrated when she wasn’t moaning.

He started to become a bit more aggressive when he pressed his hips up into hers and reached around to cup her backside and push her down onto him—he probably wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, but she was well aware of it, because she felt his erection grind against her core. Her eyes shot open in alarm, and she pushed down on his shoulders, hoping to convey to him to let up a bit. He was the one picking up the pace now, and she was the one asking to take it slower. The closer they got to actually having sex, the more unsure she became.

He didn’t seem to get the message, because he wrapped his arms around her and repositioned their bodies so that she was lying flat on the bed and he was hovering above her. “Is this okay?” he asked.

She nodded fearfully, keeping her legs pressed close together.

“Yeah?” He smiled reassuringly and kissed her deeply. He was in his element now, so clearly beyond any initial nerves he had felt. The benefit of being a boy, she supposed. Hormones took over for them, and nothing else mattered.

She shuddered as he trailed a path of kisses down her cheek and her neck to her breasts. His hands tickled her sides as he suckled on her, teasing her nipples with his tongue, taking as much of her flesh into his mouth as he could. Normally, she would have tangled her hands in his hair and arched her back up off the bed, but tonight, she just lay there.

He switched from one breast to the next, and she was struck by the memory of breastfeeding Macy. Of course, it hadn’t been anything like this, but still . . . it jarred her. She held back tears. This was so wrong. It was so wrong to even be thinking about that while this was going on. She hadn’t been particularly aroused before, and she definitely wasn’t aroused now.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize he was kissing his way down her stomach and legs to her toes until he was actually down there. He caressed her legs and then sat up straight at the foot of the bed to undo his pants. Keeping his eyes locked with hers the entire time, he pushed them down along with his boxers, sending both garments flying with a flick of his ankles.

She knew he must’ve noticed her eyes widen when she looked over his straining erection. It was nothing new to her; she’d seen it and felt it a million times. But just the knowledge that he was going to put that in her and that her body was going to adapt to accommodate him . . . it was surreal. And terrifying, because she knew her body sometimes adapted for nine months at a time afterwards.

Frantically, she reached over and pulled open the bedside drawer, rummaging around for protection. She grabbed a condom and handed it to Michael, silently insistent that he put that on before his pelvis came anywhere near hers. He stared at her confusedly for a moment, because usually she put it on for him; but when he finally understood that that wasn’t happening this time, he took the condom from her and rolled over onto his back, lying beside her on the bed. He stroked his length a few times, getting himself as hard as possible before he put the condom on. He grumbled, “Come on,” in frustration when he couldn’t get it on right away. But eventually, he rolled it down to the base and tossed the wrapper aside.

“There we go,” he announced, climbing back on top of her eagerly.

She reached down in between them and gripped his length in her hands. He closed his eyes and groaned, probably thinking that she was handling him for the sake of sexual pleasure; but in all reality, she was just checking to make sure the fit was snug and that there weren’t any holes or breaks in it. She didn’t want any accidents. Any more accidents.

She’d nearly forgotten she was still wearing panties until Michael hooked his fingers underneath the straps on the sides and slid them down. She lifted her hips off the bed to assist in their removal, and once she was completely naked, she felt completely terrified. Fear kept her knees pressed tightly together, so tightly that Michael had to physically pry them apart.

“Are you sure?” he asked, probably only faintly aware of her doubt.

She meant to lie and say, “Mmm-hmm,” but it came out as more of a high-pitched whimper instead. “Hmm.” He wasn’t dissuaded, however, as he kept urging her legs apart with his knees and scooted forward.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered adoringly, using his thumbs to draw invisible circles on the insides of her thighs.

I’m so scared of you, she thought, shocked that that was something she could actually be. But she was scared of how much he loved her, how much he wanted her. And unlike her, he seemed to be able to forget about everything else that had happened and just live in this moment, but this moment felt forever ruined to her.

He set his hand atop her pelvis and stretched his thumb downward to dip in between her folds. Her hips bucked in protest.

“Hold on,” he said, completely zoning on her. He located her clit and rubbed it with his thumb, gauging her face for some sort of reaction.

I can’t take this, was all she could think. Her breathing was coming raggedly now, and once again, he was mistaking it as a sign of arousal.

He gripped the base of his erection with one hand and guided himself forward. He traced the head of his cock along the folds of her entrance a few times, obviously trying to get her wetter before he penetrated her. When he finally did slide in, he did it slowly, letting her body take its time as it stretched to fit him. She gripped the bed sheets tightly, wincing as he pushed forward. She was so nervous that it felt tight, too tight. It hurt.

“Are you okay?” he asked, halting his movements. “Are you okay?”

I’ll never be okay. She nodded unconvincingly.

Once he was settled within her, he bent forward, propping himself up on his forearms. “Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

I want you to stop.

As he started to thrust his hips forward, memories came flooding back to her. In her head, she went somewhere else, back to a time almost two years ago when she’d actually wanted to do this, when they’d both been so overwhelmed by the passion that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other long enough to put any protection on. She remembered making Macy, and that memory made her heart break. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Uh!” she whimpered, grimacing as he buried his face in her neck and started to move faster. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, only to keep him in that position so that he wouldn’t look up and see her start to cry.

The tears fell before she could even attempt to stop them. Her entire body shuddered and shook as she cried, but she kept it quiet. It probably sounded to him like she was gasping in passion, but . . . what was passion? She didn’t have it anymore.

He groaned gutturally, rolling his hips against hers more forcefully now. The entire bed started to shake, the headboard hitting the wall rhythmically. Sweat dripped down his back, a sign of his exertion, and all she could do was lie beneath him and wait for it to be over. Every thrust felt like a scrape against sandpaper.

She started to cry harder when he slipped one hand in between them to splay against her stomach, because she knew she should have been bigger. She should have had just the slightest bulge there, because she should have been three months along. She should have been carrying their baby. It would’ve been a boy.

“Maria?”

Unable to stop, she kept crying as he lifted his head. His entire body stilled when he noticed her sobbing, and a look of horror came over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

She just kept crying. How could he not know? How could he not just understand? How was he not feeling the exact same things she was?

“Maria, what’d I do?” His voice was shaking. “Am I hurting you?”

Everything hurts, she thought, looking away.

“Maria, talk to me.”

She shook her head.

“Please.” He finally slid out of her and got off her, sitting on the empty side of the bed.

She rolled over onto her side, curling up in a ball so she wouldn’t have to face him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, rubbing her shoulders.

She flinched beneath his touch and sat up, moving towards the edge of the bed. She bent forward, covered her face with her hands, and wailed.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” Michael apologized, sounding damn near emotional himself. “Please just talk to me.”

Even if she could have spoken, she didn’t know what she would’ve said. She ripped the sheet off the bed, wrapped it around herself like a towel, and fled the room, running downstairs as fast as her legs would take her. When she hit the bottom step, she stumbled and fell, crashing onto the floor right next to the empty space where Macy’s playpen used to be. She gripped the carpet fibers tightly between her fingers as the sobs wreaked havoc on her body and made her convulse.

“Maria!” Michael was at her side in an instant, pulling her up. “Look at me,” he said, holding her against him with one arm while he smoothed her hair away from her face with the other. “I can’t help you if you don’t . . .”

She raised her face to meet his eyes, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw just how sad she was. He loosened his grip on her, eventually letting her go altogether, and backed up slowly. “What . . .” he gasped. “What just happened?” He’d put his pants back on, but they weren’t fastened, so he pulled up his zipper and buttoned them up. “God, I feel like I just violated you.”

She shook her head.

“That’s what it feels like,” he insisted.

“No, you didn’t.” She didn’t want him to get that idea. She’d known her fair share of sexual predators over the years, and Michael wasn’t one of them. He was just oblivious. She couldn’t blame him for being upset, though. No guy wanted to be inside a girl when he discovered her in tears.

“Then why are you crying?” he demanded.

“Why are you not?” She practically crawled over to the couch and sat down, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she rocked back and forth. “Macy’s dead, Michael,” she cried. “She’s just . . . she’s just dead.” There was no way around it. Their little girl was gone and never coming back. “And I thought I could act normal and do that with you, but I can’t.” She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want to.”

He flapped his arms against his sides, clearly frustrated, maybe even a little insulted. “You could’ve told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“You could’ve told me before we . . . before I . . .” He trailed off, motioning back up the stairs frantically. “I mean, I feel horrible. I feel like I hurt you.”

She wiped the tears off her cheeks, not about to deny that it had in fact hurt, both physically and emotionally.

“Maria, I feel like I don’t even know you anymore,” he lamented desperately.

“You don’t.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“What? What? I’m not gonna sugarcoat it,” she kept on. “You don’t know me because I’m not the same person I used to be anymore. I’ve been through too much.”

“So have I,” he pointed out.

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

He frowned, his voice taking on an accusatory tone when he barked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Michael, you go to work, and you come home and make dinner and go to bed at night like everything’s okay; but it’s not okay, and it never will be. Don’t you understand that?”

He grunted, throwing his arms up in the air again. “Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do? If I don’t cook and clean and go to work, who’s gonna? Huh?”

She lowered her head, sensing that his concern was turning more and more into anger with every word that left his mouth.

“‘Cause you won’t,” he growled. “You’ve made that perfectly clear. So I have to take care of you, just as much, if not more, than I take care of Miley. I swear to God, Maria, I feel more like your father than your fiancé sometimes.”

“Well, sorry I’m such a burden!” she snapped.

“Just face it: If I don’t take care of things around here, if I don’t hold things together, they’ll fall apart. And then you’ll feel even worse than you do now.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible. I’m a mother who lost her daughter.”

“And I’m a father who lost his. Same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

Again, he looked offended. “What’re you saying? Are you . . .” He stared down at her incredulously. “Are you saying you think you loved Macy more than I did? More than I do?”

She raked her hands through her hair anxiously. “It’s just different,” she tried to explain. “Being a mom, giving birth . . . it’s just different. You don’t know what it’s like to feel her kick from the inside, to be pregnant for nine months.”

“Well, how could I?” he grunted. “You keep it a secret from me when you are.”

She glared at him, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as he ventured into a subject she felt completely uncomfortable with. “That’s not what I did.”

“You told everyone else except me!” he roared. “I had to find out from a doctor after the baby was already dead. How do you think that makes me feel?”

She shot to her feet, fed up with the guilt-trip. “Fine, I’m the bad guy!” She sheet started to slide down, so she yanked it up again, securing it on the side.

“No, I didn’t . . .” He clenched his hands into a fist momentarily. “Would you quit putting words in my mouth? God-dammit, Maria! You make me so angry sometimes.”

“That goes both ways.” She couldn’t even remember being so upset with him.

He walked into the kitchen, took a few deep breaths, then came back into the living room, seemingly calmer now. “What’re we doin’?” he said “Let’s go back upstairs.”

“And what,” she spat, “finish fucking?”

And just like that, his calm was gone again. “No, let’s just—let’s just cool it down. We’re both saying some things we don’t really mean here.”

“Speak for yourself,” she grumbled. “I mean every word. And I could say a whole lot more.”

“Like what?”

She closed her mouth tightly, restraining herself from saying something that would really hurt him. “Nothing,” she mumbled, sitting back down on the couch.

“No, why stop now?” he pressed. “We’re on a roll. Just let me have it.”

“Don’t push me,” she warned. There were things that she had wanted to say from the moment she’d found out about Macy’s death, things that she had forced herself not to say, things that were dangerously close to coming out right now.

“Is it about how I should’ve married you sooner?” he guessed. “Because, considering how pleasant this conversation is, it’s a wonder I wanna marry you at all.”

“Stop it.” She blinked back tears.

“Or maybe you’re still pissed about not finishing college. But you know what? It’s not my fault you partied away your first three years.”

“Michael, stop.” She couldn’t take much more of the verbal onslaught.

“Or maybe you just hate me ‘cause I keep getting you pregnant. But guess what, Maria? It fucking takes two, and I’m sick and tired of you blaming me when your life doesn’t go according to plan.”

She shot to her feet again and screamed, “You killed Macy!”

That shut him up. His mouth dropped open wordlessly, and he stumbled backward, grabbing onto the stair railing for support. He looked as though he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, like he could barely stand.

“Alex Whitman wasn’t the only one driving a car that night,” she pointed out, unable to stop herself now. “We keep avoiding the fact that we wouldn’t have crashed if you’d just been paying better attention, or if you’d slammed on the brakes just a split-second sooner, or if you hadn’t turned the wheel so hard or . . . or something! You could’ve done something!”

Michael’s eyes were wide and mortified. She knew everything she was saying was playing on his worst fears and biggest regrets. “That doesn’t . . .” he sputtered. “That doesn’t mean I killed her.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t save her!” she yelled. “She was trapped in the back of that car, and you didn’t get her out.” She shook her head, crying uncontrollably as she pictured it. “You let her stay there. You let her burn.”

He couldn’t even blink as tears rolled their way down his cheeks as well. “No, she was . . . she was already dead.” He still sounded as though he were trying to convince himself. “The coroner told us she was already dead.”

“That doesn’t matter! There’s nothing left of her! What we put in the ground doesn’t even look like her! And that’s because of you.” She walked towards him menacingly. “You’re her father; you’re supposed to protect her. But you didn’t.”

His bottom lip trembled, and his voice shook. “I tried.”

“You should’ve tried harder.”

“I couldn’t . . .” He looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “There was nothing I could do. I had to get you out of there or you would’ve died, too.”

“I wish I had!”

His head snapped up again, and he reiterated, “Maria, I saved your life.”

“Who cares? It’s not worth living without her.” She already felt dead inside. It would’ve been easier on her and everyone else if the outside matched. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she stumbled back over to the vacant space of Macy’s playpen. “I shouldn’t have made it out of that car alive,” she said, slowly dropping to her knees. “I didn’t want to.”

It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, he spoke just as passionately. But it was a passion that was coming from a place of sadness in addition to a place of anger now. “So you feel guilty,” he concluded. “Well, how guilty do you think I feel?” A tortured sob escaped him, and he picked up a ceramic figurine and threw it at the wall. Maria flinched when it shattered. “I felt her,” he choked out. “I had my hands on her little arms. I touched my daughter’s dead body, Maria, and I knew she was dead. I knew it, but I didn’t wanna believe it.” He dropped down beside her, grabbing her wrists in his hands tightly. “I watched that car burst into flames knowing she was still inside. I couldn’t get to her. I couldn’t . . . get to her.”

“Let go of me,” she whispered.

Slowly, he released his grip. “All of that,” he said, “her dying, Miley’s injuries, your injuries . . . and I barely had a scratch on me. So you wanna talk guilt? You can’t even imagine . . .” He swallowed hard, tears welling up even more. “Don’t you know I wake up every day wishing I could go back and trade places with any of you? I wasn’t even hurt! At least you miscarried.”

He so didn’t get it. She clamored to her feet, looking down on him. “Oh, that’s right, I had the privilege of doing that.”

He rubbed his forehead. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You weren’t hurt for a reason, Michael: Because you were supposed to get her out of that car and at least give her a chance.”

“She was already dead!” he bellowed again, standing up. “I couldn’t save her, Maria! Get that through your head: I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save her any more than you could save the baby you lost.”

“I didn’t lose it!” she yelled back at him. “God, why do people always say it like that? It wasn’t lost; it was taken from me.”

“And maybe that’s why you’re such a wreck,” she supposed, glowering at her. “That baby was ‘taken’ from you, and part of you feels relieved ‘cause you never wanted it in the first place.”

She threw her hand out and slapped him hard across the face. He stood there, clearly horrified by what he’d just said, looking away from her.

“How dare you,” she whispered in astonishment. She knew she’d said some horrible things tonight, too, but what he’d just said . . . that was crossing a line. “You bastard.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, recollecting himself, and then gazed at her sorrowfully again. “Maria, I’m so sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Get away from me,” she told him, taking a few steps backward.

“Maria--” He reached out for her.

“If you touch me, I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself.” She glared at him, completely serious. And judging by the stunned look in Michael’s eyes, he knew she was serious. He knew it, and he had caused it. He kept opening his mouth as though he wanted to apologize, but no words came out. And even if he had managed to apologize, it could never suffice.

He threw his hands up and stormed past her, grabbing his coat on the way out. When he slammed the door, it felt like the entire house shook, and Maria started shaking after he was gone. They had never fought like this. This wasn’t them.

But it was them. And that was what was so scary.

She collapsed on the floor, resting her head against the couch for support as the realness of it all set in. She grabbed one of the couch pillows, buried her face in it, and let every single sob she had left in her system go. A feeling of hopelessness surrounded her. Things had fallen apart, just like Michael had promised they would, and there was no one there to put them back together. No one to put her back together. She was in a million pieces.

She cried so hard she screamed.








TBC . . .

-April

First off, thanks to anyone who nominated me in Part C of the RF Fic Awards in the following categories:


I REALLY did not expect all of those, so thanks for the recognition.


And since I got nominated for Fic with the Best Musical Use, it's only fitting that I bring some music on by today. The song is "To Build a Home" by The Cinematic Orchestra, and I've always thought the lyrics were entirely appropriate for this story. You can view the lyrics here and/or you can listen to it here or click on when you see it if you'd like. It's a really beautiful, heartfelt song.


Lastly, thank you as always for the feedback. This part is another DOOZY of a part, and even that's probably an understatement, so I'll just get right to it.








Part 125








Around closing time, it started to rain. Isabel walked aimlessly through the video store, watching the second hand tick towards 11:00, listening to the raindrops pelt the window. She didn’t want to be there.

But when she saw Michael’s car pull up outside the C4 gallery, she suddenly wanted to be nowhere else. She watched as he got out, ran around his car, and barreled into his studio. He proceeded to march right over to one of the paintings on display, one that wasn’t for sale because it was a painting he’d done of Macy. He tore the large frame off the wall and threw it haphazardly around the room.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, immediately running out of the video store. She darted through the rain and rushed into the gallery, knowing that something must have been very wrong. “Michael!” she shouted.

He picked up the frame again, punching the glass hard enough for it to crack.

“Michael, stop!” She grabbed his shoulders to no avail. “What’re you doing? Michael!” Finally, she got a hold of his punching hand. “Michael . . .”

When he looked at her, he looked like a ghost.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “What . . .” It hurt her heart to look into his eyes, because she knew instantly that she was looking at a devastated man in the midst of a breakdown. It didn’t even matter what he was upset about. All that mattered was that he was upset about something, and he was the kind of person who didn’t deserve to be upset about anything. “Okay,” she said, “I’m gonna drive you home. Okay?” He didn’t respond, but there was no way she was going to let him get in the car by himself, not when he was like this. “Come on.” She helped him to his feet, surprised by how unsteady he was. “Come with me.” She wrapped one arm around his waist, supporting most of his body weight, and helped him through the rain to his car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“She’s so precious,” Tess commented adoringly as she and Kyle watched their niece sleep that night. “Like a little princess.”

“Yeah,” Kyle agreed, pulling the blankets further up over her shoulders. “I’m glad she’s doing better.”

“Me, too.” Miley wasn’t her normal self by any means, but she’d been in good spirits all night, and considering everything she’d been through, that was remarkable.

“And hey, she didn’t fall in the pool tonight,” he added, leading her out of the guest bedroom, “so that’s improvement on our end.”

“Good for us.”

He shut the door quietly. “Yeah, we might actually be able to pull off this whole parenting thing.”

She laughed a little. “Good, ‘cause we don’t really have a choice.”

He took her hands in his, squeezing gently, and leaned in to kiss her. One kiss just wasn’t enough, though. She kissed him again, and again, and again. And they might have just kept kissing if doorbell didn’t ring.

“Hmm,” Kyle said, smiling frustratedly as he pulled away.

She let go of his hands and headed downstairs to answer the door. She was surprised to see her best friend standing on the other side. “Hey, Maria,” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

Maria didn’t say anything. Maria didn’t do anything. Maria just stood there like a spaced-out statue. Her eyes were completely swollen as though she’d just been crying.

“Are you okay?” Tess asked, already quite certain that she wasn’t. Before she could get an honest response, Kyle treaded downstairs as well.

“Hey, Miley just dozed off,” he revealed. “We got it covered over here. You and Michael can just keep . . . doing whatever you’re doing.”

Tess wanted to yell at him to be quiet, because she was pretty certain Michael and Maria weren’t doing anything like that.

When Maria finally did speak, her voice was scratchy. “So he’s not here?” she managed to get out.

“No. Why would he be?” Tess frowned. “He’s not with you?”

Maria’s eyes welled up with tears. “I need to find him,” she said more to herself than to either of them. She turned and sulked back across the front yard. Tess watched her get into her car and drive off as a feeling of concern set in. When she looked back in her husband, she could tell he sensed it, too: Something had happened, something that had caused Michael and Maria’s Valentine’s Day go horribly wrong.

It felt like New Year’s all over again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel slowly pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the ignition. She’d left her own vehicle at the video store, and she’d been in such a rush to take care of Michael that she hadn’t even locked up for the night. She’d go back and do it later. All that mattered right now was Michael.

He hadn’t said anything. At all. Not one word during the whole drive. And she hadn’t attempted to make conversation. He’d talk if he wanted to, and if he didn’t want to, that was fine, too. She just wanted to be there for him. Whatever had happened to make him so distraught, she wanted to make him feel better.

“Is Maria home?” she asked, handing him his car keys.

He looked around for her car, then muttered, “No,” and got out. She waited until he’d shut the door and walked away to say, “Good.”

It seemed to take all his strength just to unlock his front door and push it open. She followed him inside, not quite sure whether she should be there or not. She wanted to be there, undoubtedly, but if he needed time alone, she’d give that to him.

“Do you want me to go?” she asked.

He took off his jacket, and her breath caught in her chest because he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. He hung the jacket the coat rack and simply told her, “You can stay,” before he trudged upstairs.

She smiled, almost as surprised as she was excited. Sure, spending time with Michael when he was in a good mood was preferable, but people underestimated the power in these moments, the moments where everything was falling apart.

She followed him upstairs to his bedroom, disappointed to see that he was throwing a t-shirt on. She held her complaints inside, though, and glanced questioningly at the bed. The sheets were strewn all about, and there was an opened condom wrapper on the nightstand. He quickly threw the wrapper in the trash and pulled the bedspread up over the pillows.

“Did you guys have a fight?” she asked, starting to put the pieces together.

He shuddered, staring down at the bed. “Yeah.”

“About what?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she apologized swiftly, realizing how invasive she sounded, “that’s none of my business.” She wasn’t an idiot, though. It had to be about Macy or kids in general or sex or something.

“About everything,” he answered vaguely, sitting down on the side of the bed. He bent forward and held his head in his hands. “I said some pretty awful stuff.”

She cautiously approached him, trying to console him. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“No, I did,” he insisted.

She sat down beside him, trying not to envision him and Maria having sex right there probably only a short while ago. “Then she must’ve said some horrible things to you, too.”

He nodded reluctantly, folding his hands together over his mouth. “She blamed me for Macy’s death.”

“What?” Isabel felt like punching the bitch in her stupid face. “That’s ridiculous.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t thought of myself. But hearing her say it out loud . . .” He swallowed hard. “That was something I wasn’t prepared for.”

“Michael, you did not kill your daughter,” she assured him emphatically. “Alex killed your daughter. That’s why he’s rotting in prison right now. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Well . . .” He shrugged. “Maria is.”

“Then Maria’s an idiot.” How he had remained oblivious to that fact for so long was a complete and utter mystery. But it was telling that he didn’t jump to her defense.

“Do you still want me to stay?” she asked, still willing to go if that was what he really wanted.

It didn’t take him long to answer: “Yes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria nearly slipped and fell on the wet sidewalk as she ran to the door of Michael’s art gallery. She tried to open it, but it was locked. When she peered inside, however, she saw a painting face down on the floor. Other than that, though, the gallery was completely empty and undisturbed. Michael wasn’t there.

“Dammit,” she swore, squinting her eyes against the rain as it poured down on her. She would have just called him, but he’d left his phone at home. He probably wouldn’t answer anyway.

She ran back to her car and got in, running the windshield wipers like crazy as she drove down the street. She had to find him. As furious and as heartbroken as she was, she still loved him, even after everything he’d said. And she’d said some things, too, things that she knew were completely unfair and uncalled for. She had to tell him she was sorry.

She was so sorry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

Isabel placed one hand on his shoulder. He thought it might feel weird, but it just felt . . . comforting. “Of course she will,” she assured him.

“I basically accused her of being happy about the miscarriage.” He shook his head, disgusted with himself. “What kind of person does that make me?”

“You’re a good person, Michael.”

He didn’t feel good.

“And it’s not just about her forgiving you. Can you ever forgive her?”

“I already have,” he admitted. He realized there were no right or wrong emotions for her to be feeling, and even though she’d said some things that had hurt him, they could get through it. They had to. What other choice did they have? “I just don’t know her anymore,” he lamented. “I’m dealing with the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with in my entire life . . . and I feel like I’m dealing with it alone.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I understand,” she said. “I’ve felt that way my entire life. Except when I was with you.” She lowered her head, smiling sadly. “Michael?”

“Huh?”

When she lifted her head again, she was biting her bottom lip nervously. “Have you ever forgiven me?”

Right after she’d revealed that she’d cheated on him, he’d doubted such a thing was possible. And after she’d tried to trick him into raising Alex’s child, he’d doubted it even more. But now . . . “Isabel,” he said softly, “I forgave you a long time ago.”

She smiled, relief glistening in her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria was shocked that she even had the inner strength to go to the cemetery. She hadn’t been there since they’d put Macy in the ground, and part of her had never intended to go back. But she was there now, because she thought Michael might have gone there. It was a long shot, but she was just desperate enough to grasp at straws.

“Michael?” she called, walking towards the gravestone. The wind and rain whipped the tree branches aside, and she shuddered as it came into view. Macy Guerin, it read. Beloved Daughter. February 14, 2012 – January 1, 2013.

She was under there.

Maria stood before the gravestone, knowing it wasn’t really Macy below the surface in that casket. It was just her bones, and she was more than just her bones. But it freaked her out nonetheless.

Michael clearly wasn’t there, so why on earth was she? She darted back to her car, trying to get the eerie image of her baby’s tombstone out of her mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“We all make mistakes, you know,” Isabel pointed out, angling her body towards Michael’s. “We all say and do things we wish we could take back. I know I’ve got enough regrets to write a book about. Cheating on you, being with Alex, wasting so much time on Billy . . .” Her voice shook unwillingly when she said his name.

“You deserve better than them,” Michael told her. “You know that, right?”

She looked down at her lap and confessed, “Sometimes I don’t.” She could still blame her father for giving her a warped perception of male/female relationships.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he said, “you’re better off without ‘em. I’m glad they’re both locked away.”

“Well, actually . . .” She hesitated, not sure if this was the time or the place to tell him about Billy.

“What?” he prompted.

She sighed, hoping talking about her ex wouldn’t detract from the palpable intimacy of the moment. “Billy’s not anymore.”

He sounded angry when he growled, “What do you mean?”

“He committed suicide,” she revealed, “hung himself with his bed sheets.”

Michael’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“I just found out today,” she mumbled. “I know it must seem so trivial compared to everything you’re going through, but . . .”

“No, Isabel . . .” He turned towards her as well. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry he’s dead, but . . . I feel bad for you. I know you couldn’t help but care about him.”

“True,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t even compare to . . .” She trailed off before saying ‘to how I feel about you.’ But he could fill in the blanks. “Never mind.” She felt herself start to blush.

“You should be able to tell me these things,” he said. “That’s what friends are for.”

Wiping the Billy drama from her mind, she gazed straight into his eyes and scooted strategically closer. “Friends.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

( )

It was another hopeless venture towards tracking down her infuriated fiancé, driving out to Highway 2 on the very same path they’d driven that night. Maria stopped the car right where they’d encountered Alex’s vehicle, got out, and stared down the embankment in horror at the place they had crashed. Had she not lived it, she wouldn’t have even known what had happened down there, what lives had been lost. There was nothing to serve as a reminder: no wooden crosses staked by the side of the road, no flowers, no photos. It just looked like an ordinary road, and when people drove on it, they had no idea . . . they had no idea . . .

She thought she heard the sound of brakes screeching, and when she spun around, she envisioned the bright glare of headlights coming straight towards her. She flinched and threw her hands up in front of herself, realizing a split-second later that it was just her imagination. Nevertheless, she was shaken up, so she clamored to get back in the car. “Michael, where are you?” she cried desperately. She wiped the moisture from her cheeks, unsure if it was tears or rain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Didn’t everything seem so much simpler when it was just you and me?”

Michael didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. Everything had been simpler when his biggest concern had been what to wear for his next date with Isabel. “Yeah,” he replied, nodding reluctantly.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathily. “Just lying in bed all day long, making each other laugh, making each other smile . . . not a care in the world, not a worry.”

Michael could hardly even remember what it felt like to be so carefree. Now that he was an adult and a father, carefree wasn’t an option.

“I always knew,” she said, “that if you just touched me . . .” She clasped her hand over his, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. “Everything would be alright.”

He looked down at their hands, and he knew this conversation was venturing into dangerous territory. “Isabel . . .” He tried to pull his hand away, but she held tight.

“I used to think we’d grow old together,” she revealed, her voice full of longing and wistfulness. She opened her eyes again, grinning sheepishly. “To tell you the truth, sometimes I still do. Or at least I dream about it.”

He only dreamt about Maria.

“Do you ever think about it?” Isabel asked, scooting closer still on the bed. “Do you ever think about what might have been?”

It was hard not to. Years ago, back when she’d first left town with Alex, it was all he could think about. He’d carried around that engagement ring for months afterward, unable to feel better until Maria moved in . . .

Maria.

Maria wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere anymore.

“Sometimes,” he finally admitted, suddenly unable to look anywhere but at her lips.

She leaned in, her voice insistent and enticing when she repeated, “Everything was just so much simpler.”

Despite his best efforts, he found himself leaning in, too. Closer, closer . . .

“And sometimes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I think . . . it still . . . could be . . .” And then her mouth was on his, and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Her lips urged his open, and he let himself kiss her. He let himself kiss her fully and enjoy the feel of her kissing him back. Her lips were smooth, and her breath was hot. She really wanted him.

For a second, things did feel simpler. But the second after that, it all felt very wrong. “No, Isabel,” he mumbled, prying his mouth away from hers. “No, I . . .” He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him. “I can’t.” He loved Maria. He loved her more than anything in the world. She was the only girl he was supposed to be kissing.

Isabel stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. He saw in her the same hopelessness he was feeling, and he was drawn to it undeniably. He didn’t want to be. His mind was telling him to get away, to go anywhere else and forget this ever happened. But his body wouldn’t let him resist.

He kissed her again, more forcefully this time, haste taking the place of hesitance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria felt exhausted. She’d felt exhausted ever since New Year’s Eve, but this was a whole new level of it. Between fighting with Michael, going to the cemetery, and going to the scene of the accident, she barely had anything left in her. The million pieces she’d broken into had shattered into a million more.

She went home only because she didn’t know where else to go. When she got there, she was surprised to see Michael’s car in the driveway. She pulled in behind him, breathing a sigh of partial relief and partial dread. Dread, because she wasn’t sure how he would react when he saw her. Relief, because there was still an irrational part of her that believed he could fix anything, that he would wrap his arms around her and tell her he loved her and somehow everything would be alright.

The dread overpowered the relief from the moment she got out of the car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stop, Michael’s mind screamed at him. But he didn’t. His hands grabbed onto any part of Isabel’s body he touched—her arms, her legs, her waist. She looped her arms around his neck, and their tongues fought for dominance as he lifted her up onto his lap. She moaned into his mouth and rolled her hips against his, sending electric shocks up and down his spine.

You have to stop.

On their own accord, his hands slithered up the back of her shirt, scrunching it upward, and it one swift motion, he took it off of her and tossed it onto the floor. She gasped and tossed her hair about her shoulders. He sat back for a moment and watched her chest heave. She didn’t just want him; she needed him. She needed him the way Maria used to need him.

Maria . . .

He thought about stopping, but much like the night of the accident, he couldn’t hit the brakes fast enough. Isabel’s mouth crashed onto his, and he was lost again.

He flipped them over and slammed her back on the bed, averting her eyes as he undid her pants and yanked them down to her feet. He was being rougher than he usually was, faster, almost violent. It was like every angry, frustrated, heartbroken emotion he was feeling was unleashing itself onto her, and she was loving every second of it.

“Oh, Michael,” she moaned, immediately spreading her legs for him. He removed his t-shirt and settled on top of her, grinding his groin against hers. He was getting hard. Even though he felt the worst he’d felt in his entire life, he was getting hard.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth again, then bent forward more and sucked on the side of her neck, kissing, licking, and biting at her skin. She tasted good; she tasted familiar.

“Oh, god,” she cried, burying one hand in his hair. She scratched at his scalp and pushed him even closer, simultaneously locking her legs around his waist, digging her heels into the back of his thighs. It was like she couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t stop, either.

But even so, this wasn’t passion; it was desperation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria trudged into the house, disappointed when Michael wasn’t waiting there for her. She hadn’t expected him to be sitting there with an apologetic smile on his face, but it would have been nice. Easier.

She kicked off her shoes, set her purse down, and waited for him to come downstairs. But he didn’t. “Michael?” she called softly. No response. But she heard noise upstairs, so she went to find him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was spectacular. No one in the history of the world had ever loved another person as much as Isabel loved Michael Guerin. She was sure of it. She loved him. She really, really loved him with every fiber of her being. She lived for him, longed for him, and finally, she had him again.

She arched her back off the bed, pressing her chest to his. Her breasts slipped out of her bra, and her nipple grazed against his skin, causing him to groan. A second later, his hand was on one breast, his mouth on the other as he continued to devour her. He was so good, she almost came right there.

“Michael, I love you,” she said in a rush.

He splayed his fingers against her mouth as though he didn’t want to hear her talk. She swirled her tongue around the tip of his middle fingers and sucked it into her mouth, mimicking what their lower bodies were about to do. That seemed to spur him forward, as he reached down with his free hand and undid his jeans. She brushed her knee against his erection, practically soaking through her panties now.

But much to her surprise, just as the passion was consuming her, his body stilled atop hers, and he stared down at her questioningly, as though he were asking himself whether or not he was really going to do this. She already knew the answer.

She grabbed his head in her hands, not about to let him back out now, and brought his face down to hers, kissing him hungrily. She couldn’t tell where he ended and she began, and when he pushed her panties aside and slipped two fingers inside her, she forgot her own damn name.

She wanted to scream, but the only sound that came out was a shuddering breath. His fingers were inside of her. Part of him was inside of her. Not the best part, but still a good part. She dug her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. They were made for this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria was wary as she crept down the hall, wary because she sensed that something bad was going to happen, or was already happening. Part of her wanted to turn and run back downstairs, but she continued forward to the end of the hallway, toward the closed door that she knew she had to open whether she wanted to or not.

She reached out with trembling fingers and gripped the doorknob, turning gently. But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she opened the door.

Isabel. And Michael. Isabel and Michael. In her bed. Half-naked, all over each other. He was touching her, kissing her, and it wasn’t just her worst nightmare this time. It was real. It was real, and he didn’t even notice her standing there.

An incredulous “Uh?” was the only sound she could muster as she stared at them in horror.








TBC . . .

-April

Back again.

Oh man. Those last two parts were something else. I'm aware of that. And honestly, this one's another big one, too.

I won't waste time. I'll just say THANK YOU IMMENSELY:

Ellie
cjensen2 (x3)
Tiffyjen
Grace (x5)
chickens
Novy
Claire
Farrah
simplyshiny
Lilah
Krista (Girl, I haven't heard from you in forever! How have you been?)
Helen (Oh, you and your sister. )

I didn't even know this many people were still reading, but I had a feeling that last part would bring the debate.

I know there has been a lot of tough stuff to read in this story for a long time, so I can't express enough how much I appreciate those of you who are sticking with it. I love reading your feedback. All of you bring a new dimension to the story.

More music today. "Fear" by Sarah McLachlan this time, which we'll of course all remember from the Pilot episode. You can listen to it here or click when you see it if you'd like. This will be the last part with music for a long while to come.








Part 126








Michael’s mouth was plastered to Isabel’s when he heard the tiny sound. He glanced up while in the midst of kissing Isabel, and when he saw Maria standing there, the entire world came crashing down. He tore his mouth from Isabel’s abruptly, moved his hands away, and froze on top of her, his eyes wide and mortified as he stared at Maria. No, was all he could think. Oh god, no.

It felt as though time came to a screeching halt. She was as still in the doorway as he was on the bed. Beneath him, he could practically hear Isabel grinning as tears sprang up into Maria’s eyes.

Oh my god. She’d caught him. More than that, he’d given her something to catch. He’d just been unfaithful to the woman who was basically his wife, to the woman he loved more than life itself.

She shook her head in astonishment, turned, and ran down the hallway.

“No, Maria . . .” He scrambled off of Isabel, practically falling to the floor.

“Michael, wait,” his accomplice whined, reaching for him.

“What did I do?” He got to his feet, buckling up his pants again. “Oh, shit.”

“No, she doesn’t matter, Michael,” Isabel persisted, grabbing his arm. “Just let her go.”

“Are you crazy?” he barked, yanking his arm from her grasp. “Maria!” He started for the door, but Isabel somehow managed to get in front of him and block his progress.

“No, Michael, don’t,” she begged, roaming her hands all over his chest. “Please. I want you to fuck me.”

“Get off me!” He held her hands still and tried to step around her.

“No, you love me!” she cried, staying in front of him. “I know you still love me.”

“No, I don’t!” he roared, literally shaking her. “Get that through your thick head: I don’t love you. I love her.”

Isabel’s eyes began to shimmer, and her bottom lip began to shake.

“You mean nothing to me,” he growled. And in that moment, it was the honest truth. Maria was all that mattered. Maria meant everything.

“No,” Isabel protested, shaking her head. “You don’t mean that. You love me. I know . . .”

Fed up with wasting time, he shoved her aside and raced downstairs, hoping it wasn’t too late. “Maria!” he yelled, throwing open the front door. “Maria, wait!” He got out on the porch just in time to see her drive off down the street.

“Maria!”

She didn’t stop. And really, why should she? He hadn’t.

Barefoot, he ran out of the house and got in his car. The keys were still in the ignition. He backed out of the driveway and took off after her, praying there was some possible way to explain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel lay on the floor, shaken. Michael had just pushed her. Not in a violent, abusive way, but in an even worse way: He’d pushed her with complete disregard. Maria was once again the only thing he cared about, the only thing on his mind. And now Isabel was beginning to doubt that she’d ever been off his mind.

The idea that he hadn’t been about to sleep with her for her, because of his feelings for her, was just too much to bear. She had to get out of there before he came back.

She got to her hands and knees and crawled across the bedroom floor to the spot where her shirt lay discarded. Her pants were a few feet away. She knew she should get dressed, but her skin was burning up. Everywhere his hands had been was on fire in the most agonizing way.

She balled her clothes up on the bed and managed to get up there as well. She re-adjusted her bra and panties, momentarily debating whether or not to finish the job. She slid her middle finger along her slick folds, but it paled in comparison to the way Michael touched her. Nothing could ever measure up. Nothing could ever be as good as he was. He was the only one for her. Why the hell wasn’t she the only one for him? She hated this feeling, the feeling of being the jilted ex-girlfriend, especially when she felt more jilted than she ever had before.

She removed her hand and slumped over onto her side, gripping at her shirt tightly as she screamed out of pure frustration, sadness, and rage. Why did Maria have to walk in? He’d been on his way to sleeping with her. She was sure of it. For whatever reason, he’d given in. And if he had, maybe he would have loved her again.

She needed him to love her. The far-fetched possibility that he might ever want to be with her again was the only thing that kept her going most days. She couldn’t mean nothing to him, not when he meant everything to her. No. She couldn’t live like that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Up until this point, Maria hadn’t known what it felt like to be dead inside. Not really. She’d thought she’d known, but this was a whole new level of despair. First Macy, then the miscarriage, and now Michael . . . She couldn’t handle it.

She didn’t cry as she drove, because she was too stunned, still trying to make sense of what she had seen. The most naïve part of her wanted to believe that her eyes had been playing tricks on her, or that it somehow wasn’t what it looked like, but she knew deep down that it was exactly what it looked like. Michael had cheated on her. He’d cheated on her with a woman who had almost ruined his life four years ago, a woman who was more of a monster than a person as far as Maria was concerned.

That meant he was dead to her. Everyone she loved died.

Somehow she ended up at a familiar place that felt very unfamiliar now: her and Michael’s old apartment. She trudged up to the fifth floor, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, and walked like a zombie down the hallway. When she got to the door with 521 on the front, she stopped, listening for any sounds from inside. She knew it was a much different place now, with much different people who lived there. Max and Liz lived there. Max and Liz weren’t good people.

But maybe they were better than Michael. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around how that was possible.

Maria traced her fingers over the numbers on the door, wishing she could go back. Not just back to that place, but back to the life she’d had there, the person she’d loved and lived with. He wasn’t the same person anymore, and neither was she.

She closed her eyes and remembered standing out in that hallway not that many years ago after she and Tess had had a falling out. In a way, it felt like yesterday.

“Hey,” he’d said.

“Hey, Michael.” She never could have imagined how in love with him she’d fall.

That adorable look of confusion on his face when he’d wordlessly asked her why she was there . . . he never could have imagined, either.

“Can I stay here?”

He’d been mortified. “Uh . . .”

“Great!” And she’d just pranced inside.

Maria opened her eyes, a terrible lump in her throat. He hadn’t really wanted her there, not even back then. Sure, he’d gotten used to her, and he’d eventually fallen in love with her, too. But what if she’d always been second best? What if Isabel had always been the one he’d wanted, and he’d just settled? What if he never would have stayed with her had Miley not come into the picture? What if tonight was proof of all those fears?

She sank down onto the floor, thinking, I loved you with all my heart, Michael, fearing he only loved her with some of his. She covered her mouth with one hand and sobbed silently, unable to get the image of him and Isabel out of her mind. His hands . . . oh, god, he’d had his hands on her. And his mouth . . . he’d been kissing her the way he always kissed Maria.

Every inch of her hurt.

She hunched forward, smoothing her hair back from her tear-soaked cheeks, unable to feel anything but pain. If she could have just held Macy in her arms, maybe she wouldn’t have hurt as much, but that wasn’t a possibility.

Everyone was gone. Everyone was dead and gone.

So this was how it ended. Her, sitting alone outside an apartment she didn’t even live in anymore, wallowing in pity because there was no hope left to hold onto. Except . . . it wasn’t the end of anything, because she’d have to see him again, and talk to him, and act like they could get past this when they couldn’t. It wasn’t the end; it was just the beginning.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. He was trying to call her.

Forcing herself to stop crying, she lifted her head up and struggled to her feet, barely able to stand upright. No. She couldn’t go on like this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael got sick while he was out looking for Maria. He had to pull over onto the side of the road, get out of his car, and throw up down a storm drain. He was disgusted with himself. No matter how many times he threw up or washed his hands off in the rainwater pooled on the sidewalk, he couldn’t get the taste of Isabel out of his mouth or the feel of her off his hands. It didn’t feel good.

He could barely see the road as he drove, partly because it was raining so hard, but mostly because all he could see was that devastated look on Maria’s face as she stood in the doorway and caught him cheating on her. Cheating on her. How could he . . . He loved her. He loved her more than life itself. He’d never wanted to hurt her.

He checked at Marty’s first, figuring she might go there; but nobody was home. So he branched out and checked a few places on campus next, followed by Lucinda’s. He even ventured out to Highway 2, because he thought she might just be feeling horrible enough to go to the place that had begun all the tragedy. But it was as empty out there as it had been on New Year’s Eve.

When he finally got around to checking for her at the cemetery, he sensed it was a little too late. “Maria?” he called, walking barefoot through the mud to get to Macy’s grave. “Maria, you out here?” He got tripped up and fell, getting mud all over his chest. Which was fine. He already felt filthy with the kind of filth that rainwater couldn’t wash away.

He continued forward until he got closer to Macy’s grave, and when he looked down, he saw footprints that were smaller than his own. She’d definitely been there, but she wasn’t anymore. She was probably far away from him. She’d been far away for awhile, and now he’d gone and pushed her farther . . .

Michael Guerin had never hated himself before this.

He practically fell down next to his daughter’s gravestone, the rain continuing to pelt him. “Maria, I’m sorry,” he cried, clinging to Macy’s grave as he said it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Isabel, what the hell?” Ralph bellowed accusatorily. “You left the store without locking up! I just got a phone call from a cop who drove past and saw I was being looted.”

Her boss’s words went in one ear and right out the other. She didn’t care. She just didn’t care at all. She’d taken a cab back here to the video store, and the only reason she’d done so was to get in her own car and drive off for awhile. Or for a long time.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded, sounding like a father scolding his child.

What is he talking about? Her mind could barely register. The store. Right. “Sorry,” she managed to get out.

“Sorry?” he resounded. “You’re sorry? That’s thousands of dollars in cash and merchandise I could’ve lost, Isabel! What the hell were you thinking?”

Thinking? As though tonight had involved any thought whatsoever. There was only action, and reaction, and the sweat on Michael’s shoulders.

“Michael . . .” Her heart still fluttered when she said his name.

Ralph looked at her confusedly.

“He needed my help,” she explained ambiguously. “I had to help him.”

Her infuriated boss grunted and huffed, “You know what? There’s no excuse. Get your stuff and get out of here. You’re fired.”

She already had her purse, and that was where her keys were. She had everything she needed, and at the same time . . . she didn’t have anything at all.

( )

She turned and sulked out of the store, keys dangling from her hand. So this was it. It was just her now. No abusive father, no deadbeat husband, no extramarital rapist boyfriend, and no love of her life. And now, no dead-end job, either. Take it all away, and what was left?

Nothing.

So now she had places to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Every light was too bright, every sound too loud. Maria walked in the front door and winced when it slammed shut, squinting her eyes against the lamps in the living room. Somehow, her emotions had worked her into a state where everything felt like sensory overload. She didn’t want to see, hear, or touch anything as she dragged herself upstairs. She didn’t want to be anything.

Michael wasn’t there. That much she was sure of, because even though it was deafening, it was completely silent in the house. She braved the bedroom, pausing right there in the doorway, right where she’d stood and seen them. The sheets on the bed were disturbed in exactly the same way that they had been when they’d been tangled up in each other, and she was sure that, if she got close enough, she’d probably see Isabel’s cum stained there.

She felt repulsed.

She looked at that bed—their bed—and it didn’t feel like it belonged to her anymore. They’d ruined it, tainted it. She couldn’t sleep there. She couldn’t even stand there because it kept replaying in her head, like a mini-movie. Michael, Isabel, clothes strewn everywhere . . .

She couldn’t run into the bathroom fast enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was still raining when Isabel arrived out at the Weeping Water bridge, but not as hard now. She heard it dancing across the water below, almost as if it were calling to her to come closer. Closer.

She wrapped both hands around the railing and peered down. There were no lights, so the moon was the only illumination. But in the rain, it was mostly darkness. She couldn’t see how far down the water was, but she knew it was far enough.

She thought she heard the sound of children giggling, and when she looked to the side, she saw herself and Max as kids, standing there with a much younger version of her dad, and he was telling them the world would be theirs someday. But as the image began to fade, so did the lie. Nothing was hers.

She put one foot on the railing, holding tight as she raised the other. She climbed carefully but not hesitantly, never once thinking of quitting, not even as she swung her legs over onto the other side. The rain made things slippery, so she had to cling to the railing so that she wouldn’t fall . . . yet. She turned around so that she was facing outward, and the only thing looking back at her was the water below. It had to be cold. Like her.

She and Max had always joked about this, betting each other on which one would jump off this bridge first. But in truth, neither of them had actually thought they would do it. But there she was. And if she loosened her grip on that railing, just a little bit . . .

Shivering, she leaned outward from the railing, straining to hold herself in place. Her hair whipped around her face, and her heart pounded in a mixture of fear and anticipation. Was this what Billy had felt like?

Even though she didn’t want it to, her life flashed before her eyes, the facets coming so fast, one was nearly indistinguishable from the next.

Michael.

Garret.

Alex.

Billy.

Max.

Meeting Michael.

Michael painting her.

Kissing Michael.

Her father’s disdain.

Meeting Alex.

Kissing Alex.

Leaving Michael.

Pregnancy test.

Sonogram.

Garret’s birth.

Wedding day.

Michael and Maria.

Her and Max.

Alex and Caroline.

Billy’s song.

Sex.

Billy’s mistakes.

Stupid jobs.

Housewife.

Michael.

Miley and Garret.

Alex’s car.

Murder accomplice.

Michael’s mouth.

Billy’s demise.

Alex’s delusions.

Michael’s hands.

Son.

Dad and Max.

Sex.

Sex.

Michael.

A wedding and family she’d never have . . .

There was no question as to why she was jumping off that bridge, only question as to why she hadn’t done it sooner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria’s reflection didn’t even look like her. Her eyes were lifeless, her hair stringy, wet, plastered against her head. Michael must have viewed having sex with her as a chore, because there was no way he would want her when she was like this. And now she didn’t want him, either. All she wanted was for all of it to stop. Just stop.

She opened her medicine cabinet and found the Vicodin she’d been prescribed in the aftermath of the accident. She hadn’t had to take any now that her arm was all healed up, but they were good painkillers. They killed the pain.

Take two pills as prescribed daily, the label read.

She dumped the recommended dosage into the palm of her hand. But she had a lot more pain than that. So she dumped the remainder of the bottle. There were dozens of little pills.

That was more like it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel’s right hand slipped, and her foot fell out of place. She held on for dear life with her left hand, managing to pull herself back and regain her grip. She clung to the railing desperately, gasping for air. She was prepared for it, for taking the leap that would end her life, but ultimately, she was still panicked and afraid.

She didn’t want to die.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The walls of the bedroom began to blur and fade away as Maria stumbled out of the bathroom. Her vision distorted, she stumbled towards the bed, managing to stop herself before she sat down. She placed both hands on the mattress and pushed herself back with what little remaining strength she had. Not the bed. Not that bed. She didn’t want to fall down where they’d been.

She staggered backward, trying to hold her head as the room began to spin around her. But she was so disoriented that she couldn’t move her arm up. And she still felt pain. Even after all those pills, she felt pain. Why weren’t they working? Why weren’t they doing their job?

Even though her vision wasn’t focused, she could still make out the family photo on the nightstand, taken on the day of Macy’s baptism. Macy was there, of course, with her and Michael and Miley.

Miley . . .

She thought of the child she had left, and she wanted to stay. But it was too late, and she fell atop the bed as everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel scrambled back over the railing, her teardrops mixing in with the relentless rain. She sat down and curled her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth, terrified by what had almost just happened. Now whenever her life flashed before her eyes again, this would be a part of it.

Michael didn’t want her. Michael didn’t love her. And she was so terribly weak that, without that love, she’d been willing to follow Billy’s lead and take the easy, selfish way out. But even though she hadn’t gone through with it, even though she was still technically there . . . she felt like she was a living dead girl, already too far gone.








TBC . . .

-April

Oh man, what a week! Cheer tryouts, plus a Saturday field trip with middle schoolers. I'm exhausted and posting this update a day later than I intended to. Sorry about that.

First, off . . .



Back to the story itself . . .

Honestly, the scenes in that last chapter were probably some of the most difficult scenes I've ever had to write, with the exception of the car crash scene itself, of course. Is this rock bottom? I'd say so. At this point, I know you're all putting some major faith in me that I'll find a way to make this right, so thank you for that. I'm going to let the story play out the way it needs to play out and hope that I've still got at least a handful of readers left at the end.

Thank you for the feedback:

Tiffany

Ellie

simplyshiny

Novy

Ginger

beautifyldreamer

Krista



And onward we go.








Part 127








It had stopped raining now, but Michael was still soaking wet and shivering as he drove home. Part of him felt like purposefully swerving off into a ditch or a ravine, because he sure as hell didn’t deserve to live after what he’d done. He still couldn’t even make sense of it. It didn’t seem real.

When he turned onto his street, he was defeated. He’d looked all over for Maria, tried calling her, and had no luck whatsoever. But when he saw her car in the driveway, he became energized again. At least he’d have a chance to talk to her. Whether she wanted to hear what he had to say or not, at least he knew where she was and he could attempt to explain something that was inexplicable even to him.

He pulled in behind her car, got out, and rushed inside. “Maria!” he yelled. She wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. He looked out into the backyard, just in case she was there. “Maria?” He raced upstairs, already apologizing. “Maria, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t . . .” He trailed off abruptly when he looked into the bedroom. Maria was sprawled out on the bed, completely motionless.

“M-Maria?” he sputtered, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “Maria!” He shot towards her, lifting her limp body into his arms. “No, no, no, no, no,” he cried, shaking her gently. “No! Maria!”

She didn’t move. She didn’t blink or do anything. She was pale, clammy, and lifeless.

He bent down and checked to see if she was still breathing. She was. Barely. He could feel her breath on his cheek. “Look at me!” he yelled. “Come on, baby, look at me. Please.”

Her eyes remained closed.

“You guys!” Tess’s voice rang out suddenly from downstairs. “What’s going on? You keep driving off and coming back. Kyle and I are getting worried.”

“Tess, call 911!” he hollered

“What?” She came running upstairs immediately.

“Call 911!” he repeated desperately, glancing at the opened bathroom door. There were a few painkillers on the floor. “Now, now!”

“What happened?” She screeched to a halt in the doorway, staring at the scene in horror. “Oh my god.”

“I think she overdosed,” he revealed in a strangled voice.

Tess just stared.

“Hurry!” he shouted.

She snapped out of it and ran back downstairs. He heard her pick up the phone and start talking a moment later.

“Come on, Maria, stay with me,” he cried, stroking her face. “Please.” He glanced about the room helplessly, at a complete loss for what to do, so he picked her up in his arms as carefully as he could and carried her into the bathroom. “Come on, Maria.” He hauled her into the shower with him and turned on the cold water, holding her up as it poured over her. He was just doing what he’d seen in movies; he wasn’t sure whether it was what he was supposed to be doing or not. But he couldn’t just sit there.

“Stay with me,” he said again, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Come on!” Why wasn’t this working? It always worked in the movies. “Please, Maria . . .”

After about a minute under the icy water, there was finally some sort of reaction. She coughed, spitting up water.

“There you go,” he coaxed, relieved that she was showing some kind of life again. “There you go.”

She coughed some more, vomiting a bit this time.

“I got you,” he promised, lifting her closer to his body. “Shh . . .” He rubbed her head and her shoulders, urging her forward so she could rest her head on his shoulder. She stopped coughing but remained basically unconscious.

“Oh god . . .” He rested his head atop hers and used all his strength to hold her up as the freezing cold water showered down. “Oh god . . .”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel barged into Max and Liz’s apartment and turned the living room light on.

“Fuck!” Max swore, jolting awake. He and Liz were lying together on the couch.

“Isabel!” Liz shrieked, squinting against the brightness. “God, what’re you doing here?”

She looked around for her son and didn’t see him. “Garret.”

“He’s asleep.” Max rubbed his eyes, sitting up, and looked her up and down. “What happened to you? You look like a mess.”

She ignored that jab and headed down the hallway. “I need to see him.”

“Hold on a minute.” Max scrambled off the couch and followed her. “It took him forever to fall asleep. Now you wanna wake him up?”

She whirled around, determined. “I need to see him, Max.” Maybe if he knew that she’d almost killed herself that night, he would’ve been a little more understanding. She let herself into the bedroom, laughing a little when she saw her little boy sprawled out on the queen-sized bed all by himself. “Garret, wake up,” she said, pulling the covers back.

He looked around frantically.

“It’s alright,” she said, “Mommy’s here.”

Garret glanced at his uncle inquisitively. Max nodded as though to signal everything was okay.

“Come on, we’re gonna go home,” Isabel grumbled, jealous of the way they could communicate. “And you can sleep in your own bed. Won’t that be nice?”

Garret whined and scooted further towards the other side of the bed.

“The kid’s tired, Is,” Max pointed out. “Just let him stay here tonight.”

“No, I can do this, okay?” she snapped. “I can do things.”

“What the hell’s your problem?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the corner of the room. “Hey,” he said quietly, “are you high?”

She made a face. “No.”

He stared at her skeptically.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, even though she was everything but. “I just wanna spend some time with my son. Is that too much to ask? God, he’s the one thing in this world that’s still mine, and I don’t even get to . . .” She trailed off when Liz came into the room. “What do you want?” she asked nastily.

Liz looked stunned and was holding her cell phone in her hand. She cleared her throat and choked out, “I just called Tess to let her know I’d be late to work tomorrow . . .” Her sentence faded into oblivion.

Isabel waited for the rest impatiently. “And?” Still nothing. “Use your words, Liz.”

“She was crying and screaming,” Liz went on. “She said Maria just tried to kill herself.”

Silence descended upon the room. Isabel’s mood changed immediately, and instead of feeling sorry for herself, she felt motivated again. Holy shit. Had she and Maria seriously had the same idea that night, the only difference being that Maria had actually gone through with it?

Max was the one to finally break the silence. “What?” he said. “Well, is she . . .”

“Hospital,” Liz filled in. “She’s still alive.”

Crap. Isabel rolled her eyes. “Come on, Garret,” she said, scooping her son out of the bed, “let’s go.”

“Isabel . . .” Max stepped in front of her, glaring at her warningly. “Just leave ‘em alone.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she growled, pushing past him. She stomped out of the apartment, carrying her son on her hip, already thinking about the quickest way to the hospital.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Am I really here?

Michael felt like he was living someone else’s life as he trudged towards the waiting room. Because this couldn’t be his life. This couldn’t be him. This couldn’t be what his family had been reduced to, because they were falling apart.

Tess and Kyle were waiting anxiously. When they saw him, they both jumped out of their seats. “Well?” Tess asked fearfully, playing with her fingers.

Michael ran his hand through his hair, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “Uh, the doctor said she’s stabilized,” he informed them. “They had to pump her stomach to get everything out of her system.”

“But it’s gone?” Tess asked. “It’s all out of there now?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Tess breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“So . . .” Kyle put his arm around his wife and lowered his voice. “So she really overdosed?”

That word alone, overdose . . . it wasn’t a word that should have never been connected with Maria. He nodded mutely this time.

“On what?” Kyle asked.

He could barely get the answer out. “Painkillers.”

Tess moved in closer to Kyle. “Well, it must’ve been a mistake,” she said. “Some kind of accident. Maria would never--”

“It wasn’t an accident, Tess,” Michael cut in before Tess could spin the elaborate delusions any farther. Maria had tried to kill herself. He knew it like he knew his own name. There was no way around it.

Tess grimaced as though the truth hurt. “So, what, she’s suicidal now? No, no, she wouldn’t try to kill herself. She’s not that kind of person.”

“But think about everything she’s been through,” Kyle said, rubbing her shoulders to soothe her. “Losing Macy, the miscarriage . . . it’s too much. She probably felt like she couldn’t handle it anymore.”

“But she’s been fine,” Tess insisted.

Kyle gave her a look and shook his head.

“Okay, not fine,” she acknowledged, “but . . . she’s been coping. If she really did try to kill herself, then there had to be a reason.”

I’m the reason, Michael thought, shifting uncomfortably.

“Something must’ve happened,” Tess went on, “something bad. If it was just because of Macy, she would’ve done it sooner. There has to be more to it.”

Michael felt like the world’s biggest jackass, standing there knowing exactly what had sent her over the edge while Tess and Kyle tried to figure it out.

“You know, she’s kinda right,” Kyle reconsidered. “This seems like it was a spontaneous thing. It didn’t just happen; something must’ve triggered it.”

I triggered it.

“If anyone would know, Michael,” Tess said, “it’d be you.”

He looked down at the floor just so he didn’t have to look at them. “I don’t.”

“Think hard,” Tess urged. “Was she upset about anything? Did something happen?”

“I can’t . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t think about that right now.” He turned and hurried back down the hallway, waiting until he rounded the corner to stop and breathe. Maria was lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a heart monitor right now because of him. He was the reason why the girl he loved had tried to kill herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle rubbed Tess’s shoulders, debating whether or not he should go after Michael or just let him be. “He’s really upset,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah,” she agreed. She was shaking.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she whimpered, finally allowing herself to cry a little. “She’s my best friend; I think of her like a sister. And to know that she almost died tonight, that she almost willingly died . . . I can’t . . .”

“Shh, I know.” He pulled her into a hug. “It’s a lot to take in.” Sure, he’d only known Maria for a few years, but she was a part of his family, too. When the ambulance had pulled up outside of Michael and Maria’s house, he’d been terrified and automatically assumed the worst.

“It doesn’t even make sense. And Kyle, if you’d seen her . . .”

“At least she’s gonna be okay,” he reminded her, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Is she?”

He didn’t have a reassuring response for that. He was making this all up as he went along, but he didn’t know what was going to happen to Maria, where she’d go from here. Her life had already been upside down to begin with, and now it was even more so.

“Uncle Kyle!”

He snapped out of it when he heard Miley hollering for him. The poor thing. They’d had to bring her along, but she didn’t know what was going on. The emergency room was a little slow that evening, so one of the interns had taken her under his wing and had given her a tour around the surgical pit. She was sitting on one of the examination tables now, playing with the intern’s stethoscope.

“Hey, Miles,” Kyle said, approaching her, glad that she seemed to be enjoying herself. “How you holdin’ up?”

“She’s great,” the intern said. “Turns out, we were scheduled to see her in two days for a spinal check-up, but since she’s here and since it’s slow, we can go ahead and do that tonight if you’d like. I checked with Dr. Kennedy, and she gave me the go-ahead.”

“Um . . .” Tess looked at him unsurely. “Okay,” she decided with a shrug. “Sure.”

“You wanna show your mom and dad what I gave you to play with?” the intern asked.

Kyle laughed nervously. “Oh, we’re not her mom and dad. We’re her godparents.”

“I’m sorry, my mistake.”

“Mama’s in the hospital,” Miley narrated.

“What for?” the intern asked.

Miley just shrugged exaggeratedly.

“Um, she was sick,” Tess said carefully, “but now she’s doing better. Isn’t that good, Miley?”

She nodded, frowning a little. Even though she didn’t know what was going on, she seemed to understand that something was wrong.

The intern’s beeper went off, and he excused himself. “Be back in just a minute to start the check-up,” he said.

“Thanks,” Kyle mumbled.

“Look, Uncle Kyle!” Miley exclaimed, holding up her new favorite plaything. “It’s a Tessascope.”

“Oh, really a Tessascope?” He laughed a little, glad that she was there to distract him. “Try it out on your aunt. Do you know how to use it?”

She nodded confidently and put it in her ears, holding the other end up. Tess sat down beside her and let her press the stethoscope to her heart. When they were sure that Miley was listening to her heartbeats and not their conversation, they started talking again.

“Should we call Amy?” Tess asked.

He sighed. “I don’t know. I called Marty. He’s on his way.”

“I love Amy, but she might just make things worse if she shows up a hysterical wreck.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “Let’s just hold off until we know more.” It really shouldn’t have been up to them to make these kinds of decisions. Normally, Michael would have been the one to decide, but he had enough to deal with already. He was in the midst of a whole new tragedy, and this time, Kyle had the sneaking suspicion his best friend had been the one to cause it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The heart monitor beeped steadily, the only sound in the room. Michael sat next to Maria’s hospital bed, accompanied by his guilty conscience. He clutched her hand in his and watched her breathing, remembering a time not that long ago that he’d sat in a room just like this, waiting for her to wake up just like he was now. But when she did wake up, what was he going to say? No words could make her feel better. No words could excuse what he’d done.

He didn’t understand how was it possible that they’d ended up there. They were supposed to be married. They were supposed to be a family. They were supposed to be happy. But they’d never been married, they were barely a family, and they weren’t happy anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, holding her hand against his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks and landed on her fingers. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” He hated that he’d hurt her so much, so deeply, that she’d seen no other way out. She’d tried to kill herself, and now he was the one who was dying, because he couldn’t stand the thought of what he’d done to her. The girl had given him everything, and this was what he gave her in return? He was a monster of a person.

“I was supposed to take care of you,” he whispered shakily, shutting his eyes. He bent his head forward to muffle his sounds in the mattress. “I’m so sorry.” Even though he and Maria had never officially taken vows, he’d vowed a long time ago to be the best man he could possibly be, because she didn’t deserve anything less. For better or for worse. In sickness or in health. In happiness or despair. He’d failed this girl in every way imaginable, and for that, he hated himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I’m wasting time, Isabel thought frantically as she ran around the hospital in search of Michael and Maria. She’d made the mistake of parking in the parking garage and simply walking in the nearest entrance, which was the oncology ward. The hospital was too freaking big and designed like a maze. She couldn’t get where she needed to be.

Dragging Garret along with her, she stopped at a nurse’s station to get some help. “Excuse me,” she said to the nurse behind the counter, “I need to find a girl who was brought in for an overdose, probably about an hour ago. Her name’s Maria DeLuca.”

“Well, she might still be in emergency,” the nurse said, “or they might’ve moved her to a room in the chemical dependency unit. I can call down and find out, but she’s probably not allowed visitors.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Isabel dismissed.

The nurse slowly reached for the phone. “Are you her sister or her cousin or . . .”

“Me?” She laughed shrilly. “I’m just an old family friend.”

The nurse looked at her skeptically.

“I’m a family friend, okay?” Isabel snapped impatiently. “Where is she?”

“Let me check.” The nurse stopped reaching for the phone and slipped off to the corner with one of her colleagues. Isabel listened closely and overheard her murmur, “Might need to call security. This one seems strange.”

“Oh, dammit,” she swore, rolling her eyes. Clearly she was projecting a crazy vibe, which she was usually a little bit better about concealing, but not tonight. “Come on, Garret.” She grabbed her son’s hand and stormed off with him in tow. She knew the emergency room was on the east side of the hospital, so she went in that general direction, figuring she’d get there somehow. “So now I have to find the bitch and evade hospital security?” she vented. “Fuck my life.”

“Mommy, I’m tired,” Garret whined.

“I know. Just bear with me, Garret.” She slowed down the pace a little, just so that he could keep up. ‘I have to be here right now.”

“I wanna go home.” He started to slow down too much.

“Hurry up,” She urged, aware that she was being insensitive. “Quit dragging your feet.” She pulled on his hand harder.

“Mommy, ow!” he whimpered.

“Shh!” she hissed, hoisting him up into her arms. She carried him down to the end of the hallway, stopping at a juncture that designated the start of the emergency room. She peered around the corner, looking for Michael, but she saw two security guards instead. They were saying something to each other she couldn’t hear. Whether they were talking about her or not, she didn’t want to chance it.

“Come on,” she said, whisking Garret into the empty waiting room. Someone had left their coat, scarf, and a baseball cap on one of the chairs, so while no one was looking, she grabbed all three items and slipped into the nearest bathroom to put them on.

“Ugh, hats are not my thing,” she grumbled, finding it ridiculous that she even had to put on a disguise. If those security guards knew her, they’d know she wasn’t going to hurt Maria or anything psychotic like that. She just wanted to see if she was going to kick the bucket. And if she wasn’t, she wanted to be there for Michael, because he had to be feeling horribly guilty, and she knew how to comfort him.

“Where’s Uncle Max?” Garret asked, kicking at the floor.

“Not here.” She threaded her hair through the back of the hat, securing it in an easy ponytail.

“I wanna go to his house.”

She grunted, pissed that he was clearly better at parenting her own son than she was. “Garret, you picked the wrong night to be a needy little boy.”

He started to cry.

“Stop it,” she said. “Let’s go.” Fully disguised now, she brought him back out into the waiting room and sat him down. “Okay,” she said, “wait here.”

His eyes widened fearfully.

She didn’t want to leave him alone, but if those security guards really were looking for her, they’d be looking for a woman with a child. She’d be too easy to spot. Besides, this was a delicate matter she was dealing with. Her lover’s stupid fiancé had just attempted suicide, and she needed to take care of him. She couldn’t take care of Garret in the process.

“Look, I know you’re upset and scared, but . . .” She started backing away. “I have to see him.” She turned and walked away, leaving her son by himself in the waiting room. That knowledge made her cringe. She walked by Tess and Kyle on the other side of the hallway in the surgical pit with Miley, though, so it wasn’t as if he were unsafe; he was just . . . unsupervised.

Close to tears, she trundled down the hallway, on a mission to get to her man. She felt horrible, because she knew that she’d just chosen Michael over her son. She didn’t even know right from wrong most of the time, but even she knew that wasn’t right.

She walked right past the security guards without even garnering a glance from them and turned the corner. Even though she’d been disoriented and confused, she somehow knew exactly where she was going now. She sensed that she was getting closer to Michael, so she just let her feet take her there.

At the end of the hallway was Maria’s room. Her name was written on a whiteboard attached to the door. Isabel slowed her pace, eventually stopping, and peered cautiously around the doorframe. Michael was there, sitting next to the hospital bed, crying and holding Maria’s hand in his. She wasn’t awake, but all her vital signs looked steady. Dammit.

She slowly and quietly took off the baseball cap, ready to walk in there and say something. But she had no idea what to say. He probably wouldn’t even want to see her. Just an hour ago, he’d told her she meant nothing to him. But just a few minutes before that, he’d had his fingers inside of her; and because of that, she couldn’t just walk away.

“I love you so much, Maria,” he murmured.

She frowned. How could he love that stupid bitch? She didn’t deserve it. Isabel didn’t know what was more disconcerting: the fact that he loved her enough to not leave her bedside, or the fact that he didn’t even realize she was standing in the doorway, waiting for him to notice her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, stroking her cheek with his fingers. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

No, she thought angrily. No! Don’t promise her anything; promise me. She wanted to toss a stick of dynamite into that room and watch Maria blow up, or smother her with the very pillow her head was now lying on, or something. Something to make her disappear, because as long as she was there, Isabel never would be. She would always be second best.

She felt so unhealthy.

She couldn’t stand there anymore, couldn’t listen to that. Storming back down the hallway, she suddenly felt as though she couldn’t get out of there fast enough, so she tossed the hat and scarf into the nearest trashcan and hightailed it back to the waiting room.

“Garret?” she called. He wasn’t there. Fear seized her momentarily. “Garret?” Oh god, what if he’d run off? What if he’d been abducted by a stranger? How could she ever forgive herself for being such an awful mother?

She whirled around, panicked, and found him in the surgical pit, climbing up onto the examination table with Miley. Tess and Kyle were still there, but they had turned their backs and were talking to themselves now. They must not have known he was there.

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that her son was safe. For now at least. She thought about calling him over, but when he took Miley’s hand in his, all she could do was stand back in watch. Miley looked sad, but when he held her hand, she looked better. As much as she hated to admit it, it almost reminded her of the way Michael had been holding Maria’s hand.

Her heart beat faster in anticipation of . . . of something, drowning out every other sound in the busy hospital besides her son’s adorable, innocent voice.

“Don’t worry,” Garret said to his best and only friend. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

Isabel’s breath caught in her chest, and she watched in amazement as he hugged Miley, comforting her even though neither one of them could really understand what was wrong with the other. They were both so young, but in that moment, they were mature beyond their years.

Her entire body stilled into nothingness as a feeling washed over her, a feeling that was an indistinguishable mixture of love and pride, all centered on her son, the beautiful son who’d been brought into the world by accident, and sadly ignored ever since. In that moment, that moment where he was saying and doing everything Michael had been saying and doing, Isabel realized with perfect clarity something she had never been grateful or selfless enough to accept before:

She had Michael.

It was like truth serum. She knew it; she just knew it. Like an epiphany. It didn’t matter that he was sitting in Maria’s hospital room, completely and undeniably in love with her. It didn’t matter that he probably couldn’t think about anyone else. She had him, because she had Garret. No, Garret wasn’t his son, despite how much she wished he were. They didn’t share the same genes, but they shared the same heart. And maybe, just maybe . . . that was enough.

Garret was a good person, even though he was just a young person. He was special and he was kind and he was smart. He was going to grow up to be just like Michael Guerin, even though Alex Whitman was his father. He was going to grow up to be good . . . unless his own mother corrupted him.

As if he sensed that she was thinking about him, he climbed down off the examination table and walked towards her. “Come on, Mommy,” he said, taking her hand. He was the one to lead her away from the emergency room and back in the direction they had come. She didn’t even feel worthy enough to hold his hand, because he was already so much better than she could ever hope to be. She loved her son—obviously it wasn’t the same as her love for Michael, but it was just as strong in a different sort of way. And she was so proud of him. But did he know that? How could he? She never showed him. She never hugged him the way he’d just hugged Miley. She never comforted him by saying the things he’d just said to her, the things Michael said to Maria.

Garret . . .

Oh god, she wanted him to grow up to be good, to stay the way he was and never change.

It was strange. For four years, she’d thought of nothing but getting Michael Guerin back, being with him forever and making him fall in love with her all over again. But in that moment, as she gazed at her incredible, resilient, extraordinary son, she realized she’d had him all along.








TBC . . .

-April

Thank you for the feedback:

cjensen2
Ellie
Novy (Awesome quote! I'd never heard it before.)








Part 128








Even though she was waking up, some deeply disoriented part of Maria realized she hadn’t just gone to sleep. Nothing felt normal as she started to open her eyes. The bed didn’t feel normal, the blankets didn’t feel normal, and she herself didn’t feel normal. At all.

She opened her eyes to a brightly lit hospital room. Awful fluorescent lights overhead. She squinted, trying to set her mind straight again. Was she still there from the accident? Had she ever left?

She looked to her left and knew the answer: Yes. She saw Michael there with her, slumped over on the bed, sleeping, holding her hand. And she remembered everything, remembered seeing . . . everything. She pulled her hand free from his, because she couldn’t bear to let him touch her after he’d touched Isabel. That woke him up as well.

“Maria?” He sat up straighter, leaned in closer, and smiled. “Hey.” He cupped her cheeks lovingly, but had she had more strength, she would have jerked her head away.

“Oh, thank God you’re awake,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Thank God.”

Didn’t he know he was too close for comfort?

“You had me so worried.”

He was crazy if he thought she was glad to see him, if he thought she wasn’t immediately picturing him with that whore. She had to make that clear to him. “Michael?” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy.

He looked at her expectantly with an undeserved gleam of hopefulness in his eyes.

“Get away from me.”

And just like that, the gleam was gone, and he was ashamed instead. He slowly got to his feet and headed for the door, but he stopped on his way out, looked back at her, his eyes gleaming with tears now. But then he did as she asked, and he left. But it wasn’t far enough away. Honestly, she never wanted to see him again; but considering the fact that she’d ingested all those pills, it was a wonder she was seeing anything at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael felt stupid for expecting any kind of reaction out of Maria other than the one he’d gotten. He knew it was wrong of him to have kissed her forehead and put his hands on her face and to have even pushed in on her personal space at all after what he’d done; but when she’d opened her eyes, he’d just been so relieved to see some life in her again that he’d thrown rational thought out the window and acted on instinct, being there for her the way he normally would have. But things between them weren’t normal anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. He should have known better.

When he went out to the waiting room, he noticed that Marty had shown up. Miley was asleep, her head on Kyle’s lap, and Tess was biting her nails nervously. They all looked up when they saw him.

“Is Maria awake?” Marty was the first to ask, springing to his feet.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his aching forehead. “She just woke up.”

“Can we go see her?” Tess asked, standing up as well.

They could. But he was worried about what she would say to them. And the way they would look at him after they found out he cheated . . . he couldn’t handle that. He knew they’d find out eventually, and he’d have to deal with it then, but . . . not now. He just couldn’t deal with that now.

“I don’t think she’s up to having visitors just yet,” he said, convinced that it wasn’t really a lie. She probably wanted to be alone.

“Oh my god,” Marty groaned, tearing up. “I don’t get this. I don’t get it. This is my little sister. Her biggest concerns used to be dating boys and going to parties. Where’d that girl go?”

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. “Maria hasn’t been that girl for a long time.”

Marty grunted and took on an accusatory tone when he said, “Yeah, ‘cause you knocked her up.”

“Marty!” Tess hissed.

“What? It’s true.”

Michael hung his head, not about to disagree with that. Maria had had to grow up when she’d gotten pregnant. But even though she’d grown, she’d still been herself . . . up until recently.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Marty apologized quickly. “I’m just . . . I’m freaking out right now. I can’t even believe this is really happening.”

Neither can I, Michael thought. And knowing that he was the one responsible for it, that Maria was in the hospital right now because of him . . . He’d never forgive himself, and no one else would ever forgive him, either.

“What’d you do to her?” Marty asked, suddenly sounding accusatory again. He must’ve known there was more to the situation than met the eye. “Dude, what’d you do to my sister?”

“Marty, relax,” Tess jumped in, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. “Michael doesn’t know any more than we do.” But even she seemed skeptical as she cast an curious glance at him. “Right?”

He didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t have the strength to tell the truth. “Can I just hold my daughter for awhile?” he asked Kyle, needing to get his mind on something else before he went crazy.

“Sure,” Kyle said, sliding out of the seat. Michael took his place, carefully lifting Miley into his arms. She kept on sleeping, and he held her as close as he could with that damn back brace in the way. She was perfect. She was small and innocent and perfect. And now, she was the only thing he had left to hold onto. He didn’t ever want to let her go.

“Man, this family’s done way too much hospital time,” Kyle mumbled.

Marty nodded in agreement, clearing his throat. “I should call my mom.”

“You think?” Tess asked, once again biting her fingernails.

“Her daughter attempted suicide. She has the right to know,” Marty replied.

Tess and Kyle both looked at Michael for a second opinion.

“Come on,” Marty insisted. “Wouldn’t you wanna know if she ever . . .” He trailed off and motioned to Miley.

Michael shuddered. The thought of his daughter ever attempting to end her own life was the only thing more horrifying than Maria attempting it. “Yeah, call her,” he decided.

Marty sighed heavily as though he were dreading it, but he walked out of the waiting room with his cell phone in hand.

Tess sat down beside him, reaching up to stroke Miley’s hair. “What about your parents?” she asked. “Should we call them?”

He thought about how disappointed they were going to be in him, how embarrassed they would be to even call him their son after they knew what he did. And that was yet another thing he couldn’t handle right now. “No,” he answered decisively. If he survived Amy DeLuca, then he’d call them. But only then.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Maria? Maria?”

Maria. That’s my name. She jerked herself out of her thoughts and remembered where she was. The hospital. The fucking hospital. She hated it there. She hated the way it looked and smelled, and she hated the counselor they sent in to talk to her. Like a counselor could really help her when she couldn’t even help herself. No one could help her now that Michael had harmed her.

“Did you take all those pills on purpose?”

Maria rubbed her forehead, knowing that, the sooner she answered these questions, she sooner she’d be left alone. “I guess. I don’t really know.”

“Were you aware of what you were doing,” the counselor rephrased, “of what the consequences would be?”

She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “Yes.”

The counselor scribbled down a few notes on her clipboard, then looked up at Maria in interest again. “Why’d you do it?”

A vision of Michael and Isabel flashed through her mind. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Just thinking about it was hard enough.

“Sometimes talking helps,” the counselor said. “It can feel good to get things off your chest.” Maybe she meant to sound supportive, but it came off as patronizing.

“Can’t you figure it out?” she grumbled. “You’ve got my patient file right there.”

“I do. And I’ve read it cover to cover. It’s easy to understand why you’re depressed.”

And just like that, she had a label slapped on her: depression. As if that hadn’t been blatantly apparent.

“But I think there’s more to it,” the counselor probed. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Despite her best efforts, Maria started to picture some of the little things about the scene she’d walked in on: Michael’s unfastened pants, his tongue in Isabel’s mouth, her panties pushed aside. She felt like vomiting.

“You’re right,” she admitted, and for a moment, the counselor looked hopeful, as though she thought they were finally getting somewhere. But then Maria added, “I’m not telling you,” and all hope was dashed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Marty hung up his phone and announced, “Well, my mom and Ed couldn’t catch a flight out of Vegas, so they’re just gonna drive down. Should be here in a few hours.”

Michael tensed up. In a few hours, he was going to have to explain all this to Maria’s mother, and he hadn’t even been able to explain it to his best friends yet. In truth, an irrational part of him was still hoping it was all a nightmare.

“Okay, I can’t stay here,” Marty said. “I have to get some air.” He bolted for the doors and ran out into the parking garage.

“He’s not taking it very well,” Tess remarked.

He’s gonna take it worse once he knows the whole story, Michael thought in dread.

Tess leaned over and suggested quietly to Kyle, “Maybe we should take her home.” She motioned to Miley, who was curled up on Kyle’s lap again.

“You guys should both go,” Michael said, “get out of here for awhile.”

“You sure?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, I’ll stay here.” By the time they got back, maybe he’d have worked up the courage to tell them the whole truth.

“Okay,” Tess said. “We’ll be back.” She stood up, started to leave, then turned around, bent down, and hugged him. “We love you, Michael,” she whispered.

He hugged her back halfheartedly, knowing he didn’t deserve their support. Kyle didn’t look at him, but he gave him a pat on the shoulder and carried Miley out.

Once he was alone in the waiting room, Michael thought he might be able to breathe again. But it felt just as stuffy without them there. As much as he wanted to feel sorry for himself, the only person he felt sorry for was Maria. For her to do what she’d done, he must have hurt her so much. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

“Mr. Guerin?”

He glanced up when a woman came into the waiting room. She wasn’t dressed in a doctor’s coat, but she had a nametag on that said Dr. Faber.

“Hi,” she greeted, extending her hand for a handshake. “I’m Rebecca Faber. I work in psychiatry and counseling here at the hospital. I just met with Maria.”

Michael dazedly shook her hand. “How is she?”

“Very closed-off and reserved,” she replied. “She didn’t say much, although she did admit the overdose wasn’t an accident, so there’s certainly cause for concern here.” She sat down in the empty seat next to him, holding Maria’s patient file on her lap. “Mr. Guerin, I’d like to discuss Maria’s road to recovery with you,” she started in. “I tried to discuss it with her, but she was very unresponsive, as you can imagine.”

He sat up straighter. “Okay.”

“Okay. Now, the doctors are releasing her this afternoon.”

“What?” He bristled. “That’s so soon.”

“I know, but we’re overcrowded around here. Unfortunately, there just isn’t room for her to stay longer. Do you have any plans in place for when she returns?”

Plans? His tired mind barely knew the meaning of the word. He was a twenty-five year-old kid. He didn’t know how to handle all of this. “I haven’t had the chance to think about it,” he confessed.

“That’s okay. I can help you with that,” she offered kindly. “Maria is at high risk to attempt something like this again; I don’t believe the home environment is the right place for her to be right now. She needs the structure and stability of a rehabilitation facility. This is my recommendation.” She handed him a brochure.

“Cresthaven Dependency Center,” he read the cover aloud.

“They specialize in treating prescription medication overdoses. Their patients have a very high success rate, and I think Maria would be a good fit.”

Michael opened the brochure and looked at the pictures inside. The rooms looked nice and spacious, more like a bedroom than a hospital room. There was a swimming pool and a gym and a dining hall. And there were pictures of the staff, too. They looked friendly.

“It’s not that far away,” Dr. Faber went on, “just on the edge of town. I already contacted them. They have a room available if this is what you decide on.”

He let out a shuddering breath. It all seemed too surreal, the thought of Maria being there, away from him, away from Miley. “How long would she have to stay there?”

“That really depends on her. Could be a month, could be much more. Insurance will pay for some of it, but there are some out-of-pocket costs.”

Money was the last thing on his mind. He’d pay whatever was necessary to get Maria the help that she needed. But the thought of being away from her, even though it would probably be for the best . . . it was killer.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and made the decision. “Okay. She should go there.” He could suck it up and deal with it. Life had no reason to be easy on him after what he’d done.

“If only it were that easy,” Dr. Faber mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “The medication Maria took was perfectly legal, so I can’t require her to seek out any help by law. Now, if you two were married, we might be able to pull a few strings.”

“Yeah, we’re not married.” He was sick of people pointing that out.

“I know. But even if you were, we couldn’t technically force her to go. She has to voluntarily check herself in.”

He nodded, understanding what she was asking him to do. “You want me to convince her to go.”

“I think you’d be the best person for the job, don’t you?”

Clearly Maria had hardly told her anything, because if she knew the whole story . . . if she knew any part of the whole story, she’d know Maria would never listen to him now.

Regardless of how futile he was sure the whole attempt would be, he brought the brochure to Maria’s room and knocked softly on the door. She was sitting up in bed, looking out the window, but her eyes were glazed over as though she wasn’t really looking at anything at all. She didn’t even glance up when he traipsed into the room.

Since she wouldn’t listen, he decided not to say much. He set the Cresthaven brochure down beside her and said, “Think about it,” before he turned and left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel sat up all night with Garret, watching him sleep. When morning dawned and he didn’t wake up, she just kept sitting there, staring at him in awe. She’d never been such an attentive mother in her life; but now that she was looking at him, really looking at him, there were so many incredible things about him that she’d barely even noticed before. Like the two adorable freckles on his right earlobe, and loose front tooth that would probably fall out soon. And the partial dimple on the right side of his mouth. How was it possible to have just one dimple, and a partial one at that? He was such a special kid. She hated that it had taken a chain of such crazy, dramatic events to make her open her eyes and realize that, but she was glad she finally had.

She stroked his curly hair, not quite sure where he’d gotten that from. Maybe it would flatten out once he got older. Or maybe not. Maybe she wouldn’t even be there to see it. And maybe that was for the best. She didn’t want to ruin him.

Instead of fixing breakfast like usual, she rummaged around the storage closet for old photo albums. She looked through pictures of him from his birth until now—he was growing so fast. In no time at all, he’d be a man. He’d have a job and a home and a family and kids of his own. And hopefully he’d stay the course and be a man like Michael.

She opened an earlier photo album and found a picture of her and Michael from their last Christmas together. They’d only been sophomores in college. It had been his first year in his own apartment, and she’d practically lived there, too. They were standing next to the tree, and his arm was around her. She was smiling from ear to ear. But that was then. And this was now. And now was different.

She held that photo up next to a photo of her and Garret at Christmas this year. The tree wasn’t as nice, and her smile wasn’t as big. But there was a gleam in Garret’s eyes that was identical to the gleam in Michael’s, and it was heartwarming to see.

As odd as it felt to do, she tore the photo of her and Michael in half and tossed both pieces in the trash. She held tight to the photo of her and her son and stared at it intently, knowing she had some difficult decisions to make.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael sat slumped forward, his head in his hands. He was so tired of being in that hospital. Between the car accident and now, he felt like he’d never left. But on the flipside, being there was easier than the alternative, because Maria was going to be released in a few short hours, and he still had no idea what the plan was, or if there even was a plan at all. All he could do was sit there and wait, wait to see if she decided to ever talk to him again.

“Hey,” Tess said when she showed up again. “My dad and Amy got in. Amy’s hysterical, so Marty’s keeping her at his place for awhile. We figured she shouldn’t see Maria when she’s like that.”

He nodded his silent agreement.

“My dad’s staying with Miley,” she revealed.

Immediately, fatherly concern kicked in. “Does he know what to do to take care of her? You know, with her back brace and all. He has to be really careful.”

“They’re fine,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”

He nodded again, figuring he had enough other stuff to worry about.

“Kyle’s just trying to find a place to park,” she said, sitting down beside him. She put one hand on his shoulder and rubbed gently. “How you holdin’ up?”

He didn’t even have the energy to lie and say he was alright. “Not good,” he confessed, although that much was probably obvious. “She’s gonna have to go away, Tess.”

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Some treatment place.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his head, feeling as though his brain were about to explode. “I just feel so guilty.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

He clenched his jaw, a lump forming in his throat.

“Michael, listen to me,” she went on, scooting closer. “You are not to blame for what happened here. You did everything you could to take care of Maria and help her through this. You were always there for her; you never wavered.”

He couldn’t even look at her, because she didn’t know how wrong she was.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said again. “You were perfect.”

Tears pushed hard on his lower eyelids, threatening to spill over. Here she was, trying to make him feel better when he didn’t deserve to feel better, trying to remind him that he was a good guy when she had no idea just how bad he was. And that made him feel all the more guilty.

“Tess,” he said, managing to look her in the eye. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

She stared at him concernedly, but before she could jump to any conclusions, Kyle came into the waiting room.

“Man, I had to park about a mile away,” he grumbled, shaking his head frustratedly. When he noticed the looks on both their faces, though, he quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”

What isn’t? Michael thought dejectedly. He supposed it would be better to tell them both at the same time. That way he wouldn’t have to rehash it more than once. He was just beginning to brace himself for the disappointed, disgusted way they’d look at him after he told them what he’d done when one more person joined them in the waiting room. And oddly enough, that person was Maria.

“Maria, what’re you doing?” Tess asked, springing to her feet.

“I’m ready to leave,” she replied simply. She wasn’t wearing a hospital gown anymore; she was fully dressed and even had her hair combed. She didn’t look at him, though, and who could blame her for that?

“Did they release you?” Tess inquired.

“They can’t keep me here.”

“No, but I think you have to be formally discharged first,” Kyle said.

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “I just wanna get out of here. I wanna go home.”

Michael hung his head again. Great. Maria in a stubborn mood was never easy to deal with.

“Oh, but . . .” Tess cast a questioning glance back at Michael. “Aren’t you going to, um . . .” She scratched the back of her neck and lowered her voice. “A treatment place?”

“What?” she huffed. “Is that what he told you? He thinks he can just control my life now? Is that it?”

“I was just making a suggestion,” he piped up.

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna hear it. Where’s my daughter?”

He winced. Just the way she said that . . . my daughter . . . she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

“She’s at home,” Kyle replied.

“Then that’s where I’m going.” She marched towards the door, but Kyle got in front of her and stopped her.

“Whoa, okay.” He held her by the shoulders. “Hold up. What . . .” He looked at Michael for further instruction.

Step up, Michael told himself. Everyone was looking at him for answers. He couldn’t just sit there. “Come on, Maria,” he said, rising to his feet, “let’s go talk about this back in your room.”

“It’s not my room; it’s a hospital room,” she corrected adamantly.

“Come on.” He made the mistake of grabbing her arm and trying to pull her along with him.

“Let go of me!” she yelled, yanking her arm away from him.

Right, he realized, girl doesn’t want to be touched.

“Maria, calm down,” Tess said.

“Calm?” she echoed loudly. “Calm? You want me to be fucking calm?”

Kyle leaned over and mumbled to Michael, “I don’t think she can go home with you, man.”

“No, she can’t,” he agreed.

Maria whirled to face them, fuming. “Yeah, ‘she’ is standing right here. ‘She’ can hear everything you’re saying, and ‘she’ is going home whether you like it or not.” She headed towards the door again, but Michael grabbed her and pulled her back. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, swatting him away as though he were an infectious disease. “God! I hate you!”

He grimaced.

“Maria, stop!” Tess yelped. “He’s just trying to help.”

Tess, don’t defend me, he wanted to say.

“Oh, really?” Maria’s eyes were full of fire, which, as dangerous as it was, was a thousand times better than lifelessness. “Is that what you’re doing?” She glared at him accusatorily. This was the most life he’d seen in her since Macy had died. “Is that what you’ve done, huh? You’ve helped me?”

He took a few steps backward, ashamed.

“Go ahead, Michael, tell them how you helped,” she urged vehemently, literally backing him into a corner. “I’m sure they’re just dying to know. But—oh, wait, dying? No, that would be me. Why? Because I tried to kill myself. Now why would I do a stupid thing like that? I wonder . . .”

They must have been causing a disruption, because an ER nurse came into the room. “Is everything okay here?” she asked.

“We’re . . . we’re fine,” Tess stammered nervously. “We’re just trying to . . . um . . .”

“We’re not fine, Tess!” Maria yelled. “We haven’t been fine since Macy died!” The nurse also tried to grab her arm, and her entire body tensed up. “If one more person touches me,” she growled, “I swear to God . . .”

Kyle motioned for the nurse to leave. “Just . . .”

The nurse mouthed something about calling security, but Kyle shook his head. The nurse timidly crept out of the waiting room.

“I’m depressed,” Maria stated, flapping her arms against her sides as though it were nothing. “That’s what they tell me here. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious.” Her eyes started to shimmer with unshed tears. “I had a baby and she died. But still, everyone thought I’d get past it, because I have . . .” She gestured to him grandly. “Michael.”

“Maria, please don’t do this here,” he begged. It was a private matter, but this was so public.

“Dear, sweet Michael,” she went on, smiling exaggeratedly. That smile ironically conveyed more anger than anything. “He’s perfect. He’s so . . . perfect.” She held one hand over her heart, pretending to swoon over him. “He always says the right things and does the right things. There’s nothing he can’t do; he has answers to everything. He’s kind and he’s strong and he’s smart.” Her smile faded. “But above all, he’s loyal.”

Michael averted his eyes, bracing himself for the onslaught.

“I mean, let’s be real here, he’s every woman’s fantasy, because he’s a man you can trust. You can trust that he’ll never make a mistake, because he always knows exactly how to make things right.” Her voice started to waver when she said, “You can trust that he’ll never break your heart and never hurt you. And you can trust that . . .” She started to cry. “. . . that if he just holds you in his arms, everything will be okay, because he’ll take care of you, because he’s so fucking perfect!” And just like that, she was infuriated again. “Well, why don’t you tell them, Michael?” she ground out, glaring at him. “Tell them how perfect you were when you were cheating on me.”

His heart sank. Tess whipped her head towards him, utter confusion in her eyes. Kyle sighed and lowered his head as though he’d been expecting it.

“With Isabel, of all people,” Maria added disgustedly. “Of all people!”

Tess stared at him in disdain and disbelief. “No, he wouldn’t,” she said.

“I saw it with my own eyes, Tess!” Maria roared. “He was all over her. All over her. He fucked me, we fought, and then he fucked her.”

“I didn’t--”

“It doesn’t matter! You were going to!” She grabbed her hair in her hands, pulled, and screamed. “God, you were on top of her! You were in our bed. If I hadn’t walked in on you when I did . . .” Her mouth dropped open, and her tears fell to the ground like rain droplets. It hurt his heart to look at her, because he knew he’d completely destroyed the girl.

“Michael,” she whimpered, her face contorting in pain. “How could I not try to kill myself?” She clasped one hand over her mouth and shook her head sorrowfully, fleeing the waiting room. She ran out into the parking lot, and it didn’t take Tess long to follow her. Of course, she had to stop to slap him hard across the face on her way out. It stung. It deserved to sting.

Kyle stared at him disappointedly, shaking his head, and then he took off after Tess. Michael stayed right where he was, ignoring the looks from the nurses. They were trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but they were. How could they not?








TBC . . .

-April

Sorry that this update is a day late. I just totally spaced it off yesterday. End of the school year approaching and I'm somehow busier and more overwhelmed than I was at the beginning of the year! I'm going to blame that on cheerleading.

Random, but . . . is it just me or has the amount of fics in the Alien Abyss drastically decreased recently? My goodness. The few, the proud, the fics of the Abyss.

Anywho . . .

Thank you so much for the feedback:

Ellie

Novy

Chickens

Farrah

simplyshiny

Grace (x2)

Krista


And on we go. Another kind of intense part. What else is new, right?








Part 129







It took Isabel twice as long as it should have to dial her brother’s phone number. She kept having second thoughts about what she intended to do, so she pressed the numbers deliberately slowly. But eventually, it started to ring. Garret poked his head into the bedroom, and she got up and shut the door. He didn’t need to overhear anything.

“Hello?” Max answered at last. He sounded like he was either just waking up or was in the process of getting a blow-job.

“Max . . .” She stood in front of the mirror, shocked by her reflection. She looked older than she was, and exhausted.

“What do you want?” He sounded impatient.

She didn’t care what he was in the middle of. She needed to see him. “Meet me at the bridge,” she told him. “You know which one.”

For a moment, he was silent. She was about to hang up the phone when he asked, “Isabel, what’s going on?”

“Please,” she practically whispered, “just meet me.”

“Isabel--”

She didn’t have the strength to say more, so she ended the call and tossed her phone down on the bed. She’d made it through the first part of what she needed to do, but the next part was going to be much, much harder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Michael got home, he felt even worse than he’d felt in the hospital. Because being at home made everything more real. He really had cheated on Maria, and she really had overdosed. And now, they were just stuck. They couldn’t possibly stay under the same roof together, but if she refused to go anywhere else, if she refused to go where she really needed to go . . . he didn’t know what was going to happen to either of them.

He got out of the car and dragged himself toward the house. Miley was sitting outside on the steps of the porch with Ed. He was trying to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with her, but she looked too sad to play. When he approached, she mumbled, “Hi, Daddy,” without smiling.

“Hi, baby,” he choked out, bending to kiss her head. She was the only perfect person in their family.

“Mama’s inside,” she told him.

“Yeah, she’s, uh . . .” Ed stood up, speaking quietly so Miley couldn’t hear. “She’s throwing all your clothes out the bedroom window. I think Tess is helping. Kyle’s trying his best to get them to calm down, but . . .” He trailed off and shrugged as though it were a lost cause.

Michael nodded, knowing he had to try to get them under control, try to make sense of some things in the midst of all this chaos. Because Miley couldn’t be around this. It wasn’t good for her. He was glad that Ed was there so that he could keep her away from it.

“Michael,” Ed said before he could go inside. “Everybody makes mistakes. Nobody expects you to be perfect.”

Michael appreciated him saying that, but it wasn’t true. “Maria did,” he said solemnly, heading inside. He shut the door quickly so that Miley couldn’t hear anything that was happening. Maria was upstairs, letting loose a litany of curse words attached to his name, and Tess was agreeing resoundingly. He dreaded the confrontation that was about to happen, but there was no way around it. He trudged upstairs and down the hallway. The bedroom was littered with clothes. Tess was pulling them out of drawers and out of the closet, and Maria was tossing them out the window.

“Kyle, get out of my way,” she growled as he tried to block her route. “I mean it. Stop trying to stop me.”

“Here you go,” Tess said, tossing her a pair of boxers. “Get rid of it.”

When Kyle looked up and saw him, he let go of Maria and scurried over to the doorway. “Look, I don’t know if you wanna be here right now,” he warned.

“What’s he doing here?” Tess roared, getting up in his face. “Get the hell out of here, you bastard.”

He looked at Kyle frustratedly, understanding why Tess would be pissed at him but wishing she’d let up so he and Maria could hash this out on their own.

“Get the hell out!” Tess yelled, shoving him with surprising strength. He stumbled backward but didn’t lose his balance.

“Tess, stop,” Kyle said, grabbing hold of her.

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not.”

“He cheated on her! She almost died because of him!”

He sighed heavily, looking past her towards Maria. She was staring out the window sorrowfully now. “Do you guys think we could have a minute?”

“No,” Tess shot back.

“Yes,” Kyle said, pulling her with him as he left the room. “Come on.”

“No, I’m not leaving him alone with her.”

“Yes, you are. Let’s go.” He literally picked her up and carried her downstairs.

“Kyle!”

“We’ll be right outside,” Kyle called, disappearing from Michael’s sight.

Everything became strangely silent when it was just him and Maria. He felt awkward. When he’d been alone with her in that bedroom last night, he’d been inside of her. Now, he was so far on the outside, he could barely get to her.

“Don’t you dare start by saying you’re sorry,” she warned, resuming the clothing dump.

“I won’t,” he said, though he thought it necessary to make it abundantly clear that he knew he’d done the wrong thing. “But I am.”

She grunted. “You’re a creep. I hate you. I really do, Michael. I hate everything about you.” She tore the sheets off the bed, bringing the bedspread along with them. “And the kicker, you know, the real kicker, is that I actually feel sorry for Isabel. Because you just used her, too.” She balled the sheets up and forced them out the window. The bedspread wouldn’t fit, though, so she just threw it at him. “Was it just about the sex?” she demanded. “I mean, was it like a guy thing?” She grabbed the pillows and threw them at him as well. “Was it revenge? Or was that not even the first time?” She laughed angrily. “Oh my god, maybe you’ve been having an affair for months now.”

The fact that she would even think that . . . “No, no, come on, you know me better than that.”

“Do I?”

“There was no affair. I promise you.” But knowing Isabel, she’d lie and say there was. Maria had no reason to believe him.

“Somehow your promises don’t mean as much as they used to,” she mumbled.

He walked further into the room, careful not to get too close to her. “Maria, I wish I could give you a reason, but . . . I don’t even know if there is a reason. I don’t know what I was thinking, what I was feeling.”

“Feeling?” she echoed tearfully. “You were feeling for her?”

“No, not like that.”

“But you were feeling something.”

Oh, fuck. He just kept digging himself deeper and deeper. “Yeah, I did, okay?” he admitted. “It’s called despair.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, save it.”

“You told me I killed Macy,” he reminded her.

“So now this is my fault?”

“No, I know it’s my fault; I know that. But I didn’t . . .” He walked over to the wall the headboard was pressed against and slammed his fist against the plaster, frustrated because he didn’t know what to say or how to say it. “I didn’t know how to deal with the fight we had, and Isabel was just . . . she was just there, and she was saying everything I needed to hear, and she needed me She needed me, Maria, and I wanted to be needed.”

A brand new hurt flashed through her eyes. “And I don’t make you feel like I need you?”

“No, you don’t,” he answered truthfully. “Not lately. It doesn’t even seem like you want me.”

She shook her head, turning her back to him. “I can’t listen to this.”

“I’m just trying to be honest.”

She spun around again, eyes blazing. “For once,” she bit out. “You know what, Michael? I don’t wanna hear it. Just go finger-fuck your slut. I’m done caring.” She picked up the pillowcases and brought them over to the window.

“No, no, no, Maria.” He ran to her side and caught the pillowcases as she dropped them over the windowsill. “See, we don’t get to take the easy way out on this. It’s not just over; it’ll never be over, because we have children together.”

“We have one child,” she corrected harshly.

“Fine, one child,” he acknowledged. “We made her, and she’s the most amazing thing in the universe, so we don’t get to quit on her.”

“I would never quit on her,” she vowed.

“You almost did!” He motioned frantically towards the bathroom. The light was still on from last night, the shower curtain still pulled back. “You took all those pills, and you almost quit on all of us!”

Her eyes widened with surprise. Obviously she hadn’t expected him to be angry with her.

“I know I messed up,” he said, trying to get control of his own emotions again, “and I hurt you more than I’ll ever know, but . . .”

“You didn’t just hurt me, Michael; you killed me!” she cried. “When I saw you with her, I felt . . . I felt like my world ended.”

“And when I saw you passed out on the bed, I felt the exact same way,” he said. “Maria, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You can’t say anything. Nothing can make it right.” She took a few steps back, wrapping her arms around herself. “You know, after you left last night, I actually felt bad about what I said to you. So I went to find you so I could apologize. Can you believe that?” She laughed sadly through her tears. “I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot. Because I loved you.”

He flinched at the use of the past tense.

“I loved you so much!” She broke down into sobs, covering her face with her hands and sank down onto her knees. Seeing her so devastated was devastating to him. Normally, he would have bent down beside her and put his arm around her. He would have hugged her and held her until the tears let up; but he couldn’t do that now, because that would only make her feel worse.

“How could you do this to me?” she cried in a high-pitched voice, raking her hands through her hair.

I don’t know, he thought, tilting his head back to keep his own tears inside. I don’t know.

She started crying so loudly that Tess and Kyle came back into the room. They hung back at the doorway, though, watching, obviously mortified by what they saw.

“Maria, you need help,” Michael choked out, his voice strangled with his own emotions. “You need the kind of help I can’t give you.” The words were little more than a shuddering whisper, but he knew she heard and understood them. “You need to go to that place and stay until you get better.”

She shook her head stubbornly.

“Please,” he begged. “I know you might not be my girl anymore, but I still can’t bear the thought of losing you. And Miley can’t lose you.”

She whimpered, and he could tell she was giving in now that he’d mentioned their daughter again.

“You’re her mom, Maria, the only one she’s ever gonna have. You’re the mother of that beautiful, amazing little girl. So do this for her. Please.”

Her entire body went limp, as if all the protest had gone out of her. She clutched at the carpet fibers, hanging her head as the tears abated. Finally, she pulled herself together enough to push herself up onto all fours, and after that, back onto her own two feet. She gazed out the window contemplatively for a moment, then looked up at him. But she looked away quickly and turned to face their friends.

“Tess?” she said. “Will you drive me to that clinic?”

Tess still just looked stunned to have witnessed everything she had. “Of course,” she managed to reply.

Maria sniffed back tears, breathing raggedly. “Thank you.” She tried to look up at Michael again, but this time, she couldn’t do it. She wiped her cheeks dry as she made her way over to the closet, but this time, instead of taking one of his pieces of clothing out, she took out a shirt of her own, along with an old duffle bag that sat on the floor. And she started packing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel held her wedding ring between her thumb and index finger, dangling it over the side of the bridge. Good God, that was a long way down. A long way. Last night, when it had been dark out, she hadn’t quite been able to see just what a long way it was, but now, she saw things clearly.

Max actually held up his end of the bargain and showed up. He was being a baby about it, though, blowing air into his hands as though it were freezing. “Alright, let’s make this quick,” he said impatiently, sauntering towards her. “It’s officially cold out here.”

“It’s colder in here,” she murmured, dropping the ring into the water. It was too far down to even hear a splash, but she saw the water ripple a bit when it entered. She couldn’t help but smile once it was gone. She’d never wanted to wear that ring. “Do you remember when Dad first took us out here?” she asked her brother.

He leaned against the side of the bridge, staying a few feet away from her. “Yeah,” he replied. “That was a great day.”

“For you.” She didn’t take her eyes off the water, off the sun’s reflection on the surface. “I’ve only had a few great days.” And all those days had been with Michael. That was no secret.

“So what’re we doin’?” Max asked, again impatient. “Dad’s not here anymore.”

“But we still are,” she pointed out, gripping the railing tightly because she was still toying with the ridiculous idea of launching herself over. “Barely.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Isabel, have you been taking crazy pills?”

“No, I’ve been kissing Michael,” she blurted, finally looking up from the water. “Kinda has the same effect.”

At first, Max laughed as though he didn’t believe her. “What? Are you serious?”

“Why do you think Maria tried to kill herself?”

Max stopped laughing, and his expression grew serious.

“We didn’t sleep together,” she said, “but we were probably going to. Until she walked in on us.”

Max’s eyes bulged.

“Yeah. Tess finding you with Liz kinda pales in comparison, doesn’t it?”

He grunted in disbelief. “I’d say so.”

“It wasn’t about me; it was never about me. I get that now.” She gripped the railing tighter, because admitting the truth hurt. “It was always about her. He was upset about some fight they’d had, and I was just . . . convenient.” She wrinkled her face in disgust. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“So you’re finally realizing Guerin’s not all that, huh?”

“No, I still think he’s incredible,” she clarified. “But he’s not mine. The minute Maria showed up, she was all he could think about. I couldn’t handle that, so I came here.”

“And did what?”

She stared at him solemnly, silently, knowing she didn’t have to say anything.

When realization dawned on him, his voice became louder. “You tried to jump?” There was just a hint of accusation there. “Holy shit, Isabel.”

“You always knew I would,” she reminded him.

“No, I said you would, but I didn’t actually think . . .” He trailed off in astonishment, shaking his head. “I thought you were stronger than that.”

“No, I’m weak,” she confessed. “I know it sounds cliché, Max, but my life literally flashed before my eyes. And it was pathetic. I stood on this bridge, leaning over, and I honestly experienced what it feels like to go mad.”

“Mad?” he echoed.

“Like mad. Like out of my mind. Because I love him, I do, but at this point, it’s like . . .” She raked her hands through her hair. “God, it’s like an obsession, because I can’t—I can’t think about anything but him.” She felt herself struggling to breathe as the emotions overcame her. “I . . . it’s like I pinned all my-my hopes and my dreams on this guy, and he’s dreaming about something else. Or someone else. And I don’t feel healthy and I don’t feel safe. I feel desperate, and I need help.”

“You’re just now realizing that?” Max said unsympathetically.

“Yes.” It was a long time coming—too long. But at least she was finally being honest with herself. “You know, I used to think Michael was the only good thing I’d ever had in my life, but then last night . . . it was like I had this epiphany.”

“About Michael.”

“No, about Garret.” She managed to smile when she said her child’s name. “I have a son, Max. I have a son.”

“About time you remembered that.”

“I know I haven’t been there for him, and I know Alex wasn’t, either. And in a way, maybe that’s been a good thing, because Alex and I aren’t good people. But Garret is.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s still a kid.”

“Yeah, he’s a kid, and he’s already amazing.” She started to tear up, so damn proud of her son. “If you’d seen him last night with Miley, if you’d heard what he said to her . . . he was so sweet and so smart, Max. He was just like Michael.”

“He’s not Michael’s son.”

“He doesn’t need to be. He’s good; he’s so good. And he’s gonna grow up to be somebody great, which is kind of miraculous considering he comes from Alex and me.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks, embarrassed to be crying in front of him. “For the past four years, I’ve thought of nothing but Michael Guerin . . . and I’ve had him this whole time.”

“Yeah, let’s just hope Garret doesn’t grow up to cheat on his wife,” Max mumbled. “Girlfriend, fiancée, whatever.”

She glared at him. “Cut Michael some slack. His whole life got turned upside down.”

Max smirked. “You just can’t resist the urge to defend him, can you?”

“Listen, I’ll love that man until the day I die,” she freely admitted, “but I’ll love Garret just as much.”

Max shook his head doubtfully.

“I will,” she insisted. “Parents are supposed to love their kids, you know? They’re not supposed to hurt them.” The wind howled past, and she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, not because she was cold, but because she started thinking about her own most prominent parent: Daddy Dearest.

“Would you ever hurt Garret?” Max asked, sounding concerned.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears in. “I don’t want to,” she squeaked out. When she opened her eyes again, Max looked truly worried.

“No, I would never hurt him physically,” she assured him hastily, “but . . . I don’t know, Max. I don’t know what kind of emotional damage I might do or am already doing to this kid.” The tears slipped out; she couldn’t contain them. “I’m not a good mom. I’m not a good person. I’m gonna end up ruining him, just like Dad ruined me.”

Max rolled his eyes.

“I know you get tired of hearing that and you think I use it as an excuse, but . . .” She had to hold onto the bridge railing this time just to steady herself. “I could’ve been good, too. I didn’t have to grow up to be like this. But he didn’t give me a choice. He made me this way!” She grimaced in pain as she pictured him on top of her, touching her and telling her to be quiet because he knew what he was doing was wrong. “I didn’t stand a chance!”

“Isabel, I know the guy was a dick, especially to you, but--”

“No, you don’t know!” she cried, stomping towards him. “You don’t remember!”

He took a few steps back. “So remind me.”

Her legs started to shake. She could barely stay standing. “I was just a little girl!” she wailed, unable to keep it inside any longer. “He could’ve put his hands on any grown woman he wanted to.”

Max’s eyes widened as though he sensed where this was going.

“So why did he have to touch me?”

Max’s mouth dropped open. No words came out.

“Oh, god!” she wailed, gasping for air between sobs. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair!” She shook her head vigorously, trying to rid herself of the memory.

“Isabel . . .” Max hesitantly stepped forward, reaching out his hand.

She swatted it away, not trying to collect sympathy. She just needed to unleash everything. “My own dad was the first man I was ever with, and he was a monster! And ever since then, I’ve never been with anyone good. Except Michael. See, that’s why I love him; that’s why I wanted to be with him so much.” Didn’t it make all the sense in the world, after everything she’d been through, to be so head over heels for Michael Guerin? Wasn’t it not crazy? “But I don’t deserve him,” she lamented. “Because Dad made me a monster, too. I don’t wanna do that to Garret. Please, please, don’t let me.”

Max looked completely flabbergasted. She could barely even see him through her tear-clouded eyes, but she could see that he had no idea what to do. “Come here,” he said weakly, actually trying to hug her.

“No, Max, you have to promise me.” She held him far enough away so that she could look him in the eye. “You have to promise you’ll protect him from me. From Alex, from everyone. He loves you, and you love him. You’re good to him. You’re good, Max.”

He made a face.

“I mean, I know you’ve done some bad things,” she backtracked, “but you’re better now.” Inside, there was still a seething resentment that Max had been able to move past their father’s tyranny and she hadn’t. “You’re better than me. You’re better for Garret. You’re better for him.”

“What’re you saying?” Max asked slowly.

“Max . . .” She could barely even believe she was saying any of this. But this was what she was reduced to. This was what she had always been. “I can’t stay here. I have to get help, and I have to get it somewhere else. I’m not healthy.”

Max looked around, panicked.

“I need you to take care of Garret,” she begged. “Please. I can’t do it. I never could.” The tears continued to fall, faster and faster now. “He needs you. He doesn’t have anyone else. You have to take care of him. You have to make sure he stays good.”

Max shook his head, sputtering, “I . . . I don’t . . .”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please . . . please, Max, please . . .” She hated that she had to resort to this. “I’m trusting you with my son. He’s the only thing I have, and I love him, but I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” Sobs overtook her, and she crumbled against him. “Oh, please, help me! Please, please, help!”

For a few seconds, Max held her up, but then he crumbled down, too. His arms encircled her unsurely at first. He’d never hugged her before, not once in twenty-five years. She clung to him desperately, barely coherent when she cried, “Please help my son!”

Eventually, her brother hugged her tighter, and for the first time in their lives, even though they didn't like each other, they didn't hate each other, either.







TBC . . .

-April