I'll go ahead and let you guys think what you want about the characters in this story. There is no wrong opinion, no wrong viewpoint. It's a very character-driven story, so I think there are a lot of ways in which you can look at it. Personally, the way I see it, everyone is lying. Lying to other people (Maria, for example) or lying to themselves (Max, for example).
Maria won't be the only person to "suffer" in this story. I promise that much, although it could be a long time coming . . .
xmag said:
I suppose that for the climax of the story and the angst, it has to go this way. But honestly, everything could be solved without too much damage, if everyone was more honest or less stupid and blind.
Right about that. My whole thought process while writing this story was that the solution was a fairly simple one to the readers. Maria needs to break up with Max, tell Michael how she feels, and wait for him to break up with Liz, right? But what would you do if you were in that situation? The problem is that Maria is a liar, Michael's fairly stupid, and most everyone in this story is blind.
Michelle in Younkers said:
She's [Maria's] the only one who has all the pieces, and deliberately keeps plowing deeper and deeper into something that will make many people absolutely miserable.
I think this is a good point, too. Maria, the infamous puppet master, has the power to make everything right, and instead she continues to make everything wrong. So you can interpret that however you want. Does she arguably deserve to suffer until she makes things right?
RiceKrispy said:
Also, shouldn't this be in the Alien Abyss section? Technically?
lol, yes, probably! I was unfamiliar with that section when I began posting this, so I just posted it in AU w/o aliens. Hopefully it doesn't get moved, because I don't want to lose readers or anything!
Anyway, like I said, I enjoy the discussion about this. It REALLY makes me feel great! Thank you ALL for all the feedback and the investment in this story.
Part 51
Maria was still staring at the beautiful diamond promise ring in disbelief as she made her way to the gymnasium that afternoon. It was so nice.
She stopped outside the heavy double-doors, took the ring off her finger, put it back in the box, and put the box in her purse. She couldn’t dance with that on. It would blind the other girls.
Time to dance, she thought with determination, opening the doors and walking inside. “Alright,” she said. “It’s time to hip . . . hop.” Much to her surprise, the rest of the team was already there. Usually, half of them were late. But not this time. They were already there, already dancing. Except . . . they were doing a dance Maria didn’t recognize.
That’s not my choreography, she thought as she watched them execute basic, pom pom-style moves, oblivious to her. It looked more like a cheerleading sideline routine than a hardcore, fast-hitting hip hop dance. Everything was so precise. Too precise. High-V. Low-V. Half-T. Full-T. Clean. It was like dance-by-the-numbers. Maria could practically do it right along with them. It was so predictable.
All of the team’s signature moves were absent. No spectacular leaps. No whirlwind turns. Nothing remotely groovy or sexual. Just . . . movements. They were executing it well, but it was just too easy. The difficulty level just wasn’t up to par. The music was different, too, not the kind of thing she would have picked out.
The dance ended with a traditional cheerleading jump and a unison shout of “Go, Santa Fe!”
Maria made a face. Since when did her dance team yell? They didn’t. And they didn’t do simple pom-dances to bad music. They did things her way. Didn’t they?
The girls huddled together and giggled, proclaiming proudly amongst themselves, “That was awesome! We looked so good!”
Maria cleared her throat and stepped forward, alerting them of her presence. “Alright, that was cute,” she said. “Go ahead and get in formation.”
The girls all looked at each other, and Pam was the one who spoke. “We already are,” she said, smirking.
“No, you’re not,” Maria told her. “Brooke’s in the front.”
“Not for this dance.”
Maria placed her hands on her hips and glared at every single girl. “What dance?”
“The one we just did.” Pam smiled. “I choreographed it a few days ago, taught it to everyone last night. Didn’t they catch on fast?”
“Yeah,” Maria. “Because it’s simple. And Pam, that is not your choreography. I recognize the moves from Bring It On.”
“Well . . . it’s adaptive,” Pam said haughtily.
“It’s not what this dance team’s about,” Maria told them, “so get in the right formation.” No one moved. Not even Liz. She clenched her jaw, feeling nervous. “Please.”
“Hell, no,” Pam said. “We’re done taking orders from you.”
“She doesn’t mean it like that,” Liz interjected quickly, stepping between the two girls.
“Yes, I do!”
“She doesn’t,” Liz insisted. “Look, Maria . . . we all really like your dance.”
“So let’s practice it,” Maria suggested.
“But . . .” Liz bit her bottom lip, looking unsure. “It’s just a little too hard for us.”
Maria refused to believe this was happening. “No. No, it’s not hard if you just practice it, guys.”
“Maria,” Liz said calmly. “You have to remember, you picked eight girls who have never danced at the college level to be on this team. We can’t be exactly what you want us to be. We have to do our own thing.”
“But . . .” Maria felt her bottom lip quiver as her emotions grew stronger. “Guys, I have worked so hard to make this dance team good.”
“And my dance isn’t good enough?” Pam said defensively.
“No, it’s . . . it is good,” she admitted. “It’s just not . . .”
“Your choreography?” Pam filled in. “Well, it’s not your dance team anymore.”
Tears welled up in Maria’s eyes, and she struggled to hold them in. Her voice wavered when she said, “Can you guys just get in formation?”
No one moved. A few girls looked like they felt bad, but not bad enough to do anything.
She turned to Liz, her only friend on the team, the only one who really gave a damn about her anymore. But even she didn’t move a muscle. She averted her eyes and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Maria. I have to agree with Pam. It’s time for me to step up and be a captain. I need to follow through with what I said. I said we were gonna do whatever it takes to be a better team, and . . . it’s gonna take an easier dance.”
Don’t cry, Maria told herself. Don’t let these bitches see you cry. It’s just a dance. It’s not that important.
But it was important. It was so important to her.
She shoved past Liz and stomped off through the silent gym as the tears began to fall. She tried to muffle the sounds of her crying and get herself under control, but it was impossible. She was a mess.
“Ding dong, the witch is dead,” Pam muttered just loudly enough for her to hear. “About damn time.”
Maria choked on a sob and fled the gymnasium. She wasn’t welcomed there anymore.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria slammed the front door, still wailing, and stomped through the living room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. She tore open that door and slammed it behind herself as well, trying to figure out whether to be angry or sad. Neither option was appealing. She’d rather just be happy.
She crashed down onto her bed, her body heaving with each and every uncontrollable sob. She wasn’t the kind of person who cried, but the past couple weeks had made her cry more than she ever had before. She hated it. She felt like a wet dog.
Get a hold of yourself, she thought, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t get a hold of herself. The tears just kept coming.
One thing after another . . . it was all changing. That was the reason why she cried.
“Maria?”
She looked up through tear-cloudy eyes when she heard her name spoken quietly by a voice she could never mistake. Michael poked his head through the door, staring at her with genuine concern in his eyes.
“No, go away,” she whimpered, trying to shoo him off. She didn’t want him to see her like that.
But of course Michael never did as he was told. He pushed open the door, shut it quietly behind him, and came to sit down beside her on the bed.
“Michael!” she raked one hand through her hair, wondering how bad she looked. He probably didn’t care.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Do I look okay to you?”
“No, you look . . . like a train wreck,” he admitted.
“I know.” She sighed heavily, thinking that the crying was now out of her system. But just as she thought that, she choked out a sob again.
“What happened?” Michael asked.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she said, shaking her head a little.
“Well, fuck that. I’m gonna make you.”
“Oh, you’re so annoying.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “So what happened? Hey, wait a minute.” He grabbed her hand and looked down at the ring Max had given her. “Baby, you got bling,” he remarked. “Where’d you get that?”
“Max gave it to me,” she responded.
“Really? What kind of ring is that?”
“A promise ring.”
“A promise ring?” he echoed. “Huh.” He stared at it for a few seconds longer, then returned to asking, “So what happened today?”
She sighed heavily, knowing he would hound her about it until she told him. But . . . how could she tell him? “No, I can’t talk to you about this,” she said.
“Why not?”
“‘Cause it involves your girlfriend.”
“What about her?”
Maria groaned and gave in to his persistence. “She was just being a total bitch today. That’s all.”
Michael seemed taken aback. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Oh, no, I’m joking. I’m in such a joking mood right now.”
“Okay, so you’re serious,” he concluded, nodding. “Well . . . I don’t get it. I thought she was your friend.”
“She is, but she was still a bitch. Not, like, as bad as Pam Troy or Courtney Banks or anything, but just, like, you know, the kind of bitch who stands back and doesn’t do anything to help you when you’re getting beaten down.”
“Beaten down?” Michael echoed.
Maria sighed again, not enjoying reliving the whole fiasco. But, in a weird way, Michael was sort of her therapist. She had to tell him stuff. “This is gonna sound stupid to you, but it’s not to me.”
“It’s a dance thing isn’t it?”
“Yes! You saw the dance I made for them. It was a good dance, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was hot.”
“Well, yeah, but now all of a sudden, they’ve decided they wanna do their own dance; and it’s just so easy and boring and . . . it’s not something a championship team would do.”
“Well, Maria, none of those girls . . .”
“Are actually champions, I know,” she said. “But they’re never gonna be if they don’t listen to me. And they’re not gonna listen, Michael, because they don’t care about me anymore. They don’t . . . I just don’t exist to them anymore, pretty much. That’s how I feel. It sucks.”
Michael shrugged. “Yeah, but . . . look at this way: you’re a better dancer than all of them combined. Don’t tell Liz I said that.”
She wiped off her tear-tracked cheeks with her hands and sniffed back the remainder of her tears, feeling just a little bit better after being able to vent. “I don’t mean to be such a baby,” she said. “I just . . . I don’t like this whole growing up thing. It’s like . . . everything’s changing and I’m just-I’m losing everything. I’m losing everything, Michael. My popularity, my dance team. “ She took in a sharp breath of air and her voice quivered when she used it again. “My mom. I know she’s not a great mom, but there was always this little ounce of hope, and now there’s just-there’s nothing. I have nothing.”
Michael waited a moment after her emotional rant before he spoke again. When he did, he said exactly what she needed to hear. “You have me.”
She looked up into his eyes for the first time since he had walked in the room, and he looked . . . caring. She knew Michael cared for her; she had always known. But this was different. Deeper.
He smiled, and that smile immediately lifted her spirits. “I’m gonna annoy you forever, Maria DeLuca,” he teased.
She managed to smile a little in return. “Really?”
“Yeah. As long as you keep annoying me.”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
She nodded. “I promise.”
“Okay,” he said. “Come here.” He put his arms around her then, surprising her, and pulled her to him. She held onto him tightly as he hugged her. He felt so good. He felt so safe, so strong. He made her feel strong. He made her crying stop completely. And he smelled so damn good. That was a bonus.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Maria,” he murmured against her hair.
Good, she thought. I can’t ever lose you.
“Except this weekend.”
“What?” she pulled away from the hug, looking at him questioningly.
“Liz,” he explained, “wants me to fly home with her and meet her parents.” He made a slightly worried face. “Think I can handle it?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, thanks for that boost of confidence.”
She laughed a little, and it felt good. Michael always made her laugh.
“But hey,” he said, “you and Max can have the whole upstairs to yourselves.”
“Yeah,” she said, glancing down at the bedspread. Max was the last thing on her mind. She didn’t want to talk about him, so she decided to change the subject. “Is my mascara running?” she asked as she wiped at the skin below her eyes. It felt like it was getting caked on to her cheeks. “Do I have raccoon eyes?”
“No,” Michael answered unconvincingly as he reached up to wipe the black liquid away with his thumb.
She smiled, and her heart fluttered at the simple touch. Oh, Michael Guerin, she thought, if only you knew what you do to me . . .
It was amazing that he could take her from crying to laughing in a matter of minutes. But he did. He always could.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Are you sure don’t want the window seat?”
“No,” Michael replied for the umpteenth time when Liz asked the question.
“Are you sure? ‘Cause I have to get up and pee a lot. It could get really annoying.”
“You crawlin’ over my lap to get to the aisle? I don’t think so,” he said as he stuffed her suitcase and his duffle bag up in the overhead compartment. They fit. Barely. “Are you sure this is gonna stay closed?” he asked as he shut the compartment door.
“Yeah,” she said as she huddled under her blanket. “Oh, it’s so cold on here.”
“Yeah.” He sat down in the seat, testing it for comfort. It wasn’t comfy.
“We’re supposed to get a meal on this flight,” Liz said absentmindedly.
A small miracle, he thought to himself. He could definitely feel his nerves kicking in to play as flight time approached. He sort of liked to keep his transport on the ground . . .
“You should get a blanket,” Liz suggested. “It only gets colder when we’re up in the air.”
“I’m fine,” he said. Truthfully, he was sweating like a pig. Nerves and all . . .
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just look a little . . . skittish.”
He immediately refuted that. “Skittish? I’m not skittish.” He rubbed his hands against his legs, then spied exactly what he was looking for stowed away in the back of the seat in front of him. A safety manual. “Ooh,” he said, seizing it. He opened it up and began to study it carefully, wanting to make sure he was prepared for anything.
Liz laughed as she watched him. “You’re really taking this seriously.”
Damn right I am, he thought as he looked over a tiny cartoon drawing of a woman and a child with yellow masks on their faces. “What the hell?” he said. “What are those? Duck masks? Why do they want us to look like ducks?”
Liz laughed a little and said, “Um, they don’t. Those are oxygen masks, in case something happens and, you know, we can’t breathe.”
“Has that ever happened to you before?” he asked nervously.
“Not on an airplane. It's the safest way to travel.”
He nodded. Good, he thought. Good. He then returned to looking over the safety manual, trying to comprehend it all. Seat cushion was a flotation device. Good to know. There were two emergency exits on each side of the plane in row fifteen. Also good knowledge.
Wait a minute, he thought. Aren’t I in row fifteen? He glanced up and noted the number above his seat. “Holy shit, Liz,” he cursed in panic. “We’re in an emergency exit row.”
She didn’t seem to get his anxiety. “Yeah, so?”
“So if we’re in an emergency, that means we actually have to do something.”
“It’s okay, Michael,” she assured him. “Why are you so worried?”
He put the safety manual away, thoroughly freaked out, and said, “Do you know what show I watched last night, Liz? Huh, do you? Lost, that’s what. I don’t wanna end up on some deserted island with the Dharma Initiative and the freakin’ Others!”
She laughed out loud. “We’re just flying to Nebraska. There’s no deserted islands on the way there.”
“Well . . . you never know.”
She laughed again. “Oh, what’s gotten into you? You’re acting like you’ve never flown before.”
He didn’t say anything.
It dawned on her immediately. Her mouth gaped in astonishment, and her eyes widened. “Oh my god, you haven’t?”
“Yes, I have,” he lied. “ I fly all the time. Russia. Hong Kong. Beirut.” He didn’t know where Beirut was, but it sounded far away.
“Michael, experienced flyers don’t bother looking at the safety manual. Just admit it. This is your first time.” She smirked. “You’re a flying virgin.”
“Oh, god.” He grimaced.
“My, how the tables have turned,” she said. “For once, I’m the experienced one.”
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” he mumbled. “I don’t know. I’ve just never had any need to fly anywhere, and when you first mentioned it, I thought it’d be no big deal, but now that I’m actually sitting here on the damn plane . . . fuck, I’m scared, Liz.”
“Oh, don’t be,” she said, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s really fun. Well, I mean, not really fun, but it’s not unpleasant. Trust me. I do it all the time.”
“So, you’re like a flying slut then?”
She shrugged. “I guess so. It is a lot like sex, actually. You just have to . . . relax.”
But he couldn’t. As far as he was concerned, this was nothing like sex. Sex was the best; this was the worst. “I don’t know, Liz,” he kept worrying. “That pilot looked kinda shifty.”
“He looked just fine. Here, put on your seatbelt. You’ll feel better.”
“Okay.” He brought both sides of the seatbelt together on his lap and tried to connect them, but it didn’t snap into place. “Uh . . . somebody.” He raised his hand for a flight attendant’s assistance. “This seatbelt isn’t functioning. It’s not--”
“Here,” Liz said. Reaching over, she snapped it together effortlessly and pulled the strap tighter. “That good?” she said.
“Yeah. But I still don’t feel safe.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “Oh, you are never gonna survive takeoff.”
“Why? What’s it like?”
“Fast.”
“Faster than a car?”
She laughed. “Much faster.”
“Shit,” he swore, looking around the plane some more. He didn’t like it. He just didn’t like it. But then he spied something that caught his eye. “Hey, what’s this?” he said, pulling a white paper bag out of the seat pocket in front of him.
“That would be a barf bag,” Liz informed him.
“Awesome.”
“Wait, you’re not seriously gonna throw up, are you?”
He shrugged. Hell if he knew. “If I do, I’ll make it attractive,” he promised her.
She smiled and shook her head.
Just then, a little chime sounded, and a man’s voice came over a speaker system. Michael was immediately alert and listening.
“Good morning, everyone. This is your captain speaking, welcoming you to Southwest Airlines, Flight 1723, non-stop to Lincoln, Nebraska. At this time we’ll be preparing for take-off, so we ask that you stow all your carry-on luggage in the overhead compartments, locate your seats, and fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be on our way shortly.”
“Oh, fuck,” Michael cursed as he felt his stomach start to do back flips.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I’m so bored, Maria thought as she sat at the counter with Kyle that afternoon. She had woken up late and Michael had already left for the airport. It was weird not having him there.
She swirled the remainder of her Cocoa Puffs around with her spoon and commented, “It’s kinda quiet.”
“Yep,” Kyle agreed, never looking away from the newspaper he was reading.
Maria tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for something to happen. “If there were crickets chirping, I’d be hearing ‘em. That's how quiet it is.”
“Yep.”
She set her spoon down and said, “I wonder why it’s so . . . blah.”
“Well, that’s ‘cause Michael’s not here,” Kyle said, finally glancing up from the paper. “You’ve got no one to argue with.” He smiled. “I for one find it peaceful.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You and Tess and Isabel get way louder than Michael and I ever have.”
“Well, we’re supposed to,” he reminded her. “We’re all having sex. And as far as I know, you and Michael aren’t, so . . .”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not having sex with Michael.”
“I know,” Kyle said. “But if you were, it’d probably bring the house down.”
Maria resisted the urge to smile at the thought.
“What would bring the house down?” Max asked as he approached.
“Sex,” Kyle answered, returning his focus to the newspaper. “We were just talkin’ about what would happen if Maria ever had sex with--”
“Brad Pitt!” Maria cut in sharply before Kyle could say something very bad. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s skilled and all, hence, you know, his daughter. But I think I’d prefer you, Max.”
He smiled. “That’s good to know.”
“Yeah,” Kyle said, giving her a suspicious look. “That sex with Brad Pitt just wouldn’t measure up.”
Maria turned and smiled at him, too, but it was more of a warning smile. If he ever brought up his Michael-Maria-house-bringing-down sex theory to Max, she’d kill him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Ooh, look out the window!” Liz exclaimed as she pushed the window shutter upward and looked down at the ground below them. Miles and miles below them.
“No. No,” Michael said, turning away. “Close it, Liz.”
“But look, it’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it is, but . . . no.” He couldn’t handle it, knowing how far up they were, knowing that if they crashed, they would end up suffering grisly deaths. This plane ride was showing him that flying just wasn’t his style.
She reluctantly pushed the window shutter closed again, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “You got through take off. That’s the worst part,” she said. “Well, that and landing.”
“Oh, god, we still have to land?” He’d allowed himself to forget about that unpleasant thought. “Oh god. And we’ll have the flight back in a couple days. Oh my . . . fuck.”
“It’ll be fine,” Liz said, smiling. “Hey, listen, I really do appreciate this. Really, you getting on a plane and flying all the way to Nebraska just to meet my parents . . . it’s really great of you.”
“Well, I’m a great humanitarian.”
“Are you excited?” she asked.
“What, to meet your parents? Oh, definitely.”
She giggled. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. I’m kinda nervous.”
“Well, don’t worry. It’ll be just fine,” she said. “Personally, I’m really anxious to meet yours.”
“My parents,” he said slowly. “Yeah, um . . . that’s probably not gonna happen, Liz.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“Well, ‘cause my mom’s in jail for drugs, and I don’t know where the hell my dad is, so . . .”
“Oh my god,” she said. “Drugs? Really?”
“Yeah, she’s . . .” He shook his head, not wanting to talk about it. His parents were . . . bad to say the least. He tried not to think about them. Ever.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said.
“No, it’s okay. Just . . . don’t plan on a meet and greet.”
“Okay,” she said, still sounding stunned. “Wow.” She looked right at him and said, “There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “but we haven’t been dating that long. I don’t think you’re supposed to know everything yet.” He smiled. It was true that he knew a lot more about her than she did about him, but nobody really knew a whole lot about him. Just Maria. And Max and Kyle, to a lesser extent. That was about it. Everyone else just liked to presume they knew him.
He wanted to change the subject, so he carefully and cautiously went about saying what he needed to. “Hey, uh, I wanted to . . . mention something to you before we land.”
“What?”
“Uh . . . well, I don’t know. I really don’t understand all the dance team drama and politics and stuff, but Maria did come home yesterday, and she was really upset. You know, she said that you guys had a disagreement about a dance or something, so . . . I don’t know, maybe you guys could apologize to each other, or . . .”
“Wait, you want me to apologize to her?”
“No, I want you both--”
“I can’t believe this,” she cut in before he could finish. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Pam made up a dance, it’s super cute and easy, so we all wanna do that dance. We tried to tell Maria, and she just got really worked up.”
“Well, that’s what I’m saying. You know, it bothers her.”
“But why should it? She’s gonna be graduating, Michael. That’s supposed to be my team now, not hers.”
He felt himself digging a hole as he struggled to climb out of it. “But she could help you out with stuff. She’s really good.”
But that just made her madder. “What, and I’m not?”
“No.” Why did girls twist words the way they did? “No, you are, Liz. But she danced on the team for four years. She’s got a little experience under the belt is all I’m saying.”
“No, what you’re saying, Michael, is that she’s right and I’m wrong.”
“No, I'm not.”
“No, this is just so typical. There’s you and Maria, and then there’s me.”
“No, it’s you and me, Liz.”
“You’re totally taking her side.”
“No, I’m not. I didn’t even know there were sides to take.” He grunted in disbelief. “You’re overreacting.”
She unhooked her seatbelt and stood up. “No, I really don’t think I am,” she said, sliding past him and out into the aisle.
He sat there in a state of shock and watched her storm toward the bathrooms in the back of the plane. She was pissed. Definitely. He’d never seen Liz Parker so furious before.
“What did I do?” he asked himself, because he really had no idea.
He turned around and watched Liz tear open the door to the bathroom, practically tearing it off its hinges, duck inside, and slam it loudly.
Oh, shit, he thought. I’ve really made life difficult for myself now.
Even though he didn’t want to, he hesitantly unfastened his seatbelt and stood up on shaky legs. Just as he turned and stepped out into the aisle, the plane jostled a bit. Great, he thought. Turbulence.
Shaking his head at the irony of the situation, he made his way toward the back of the plane, holding onto the backs of seats as he went just in case the plane was to really jolt. He made it back to the bathrooms and stopped in front of the first door. “Liz, come on,” he said. When he got no response, he frowned and knocked. “Liz.”
“Occupied!” a creaky woman’s voice yelled from inside.
“Liz?”
“Marjorie.”
“Oh. Sorry, Marjorie,” he apologized. He’d probably just interrupted an old woman’s bowel movements. He side stepped to the right and stood in front of the correct door. He knocked on that door as well and tried again. “Liz.”
“Go away!” was the response he got from her.
“Liz, come on, let’s just talk about this.”
“I don’t want to.”
Another wave of turbulence hit, and he had to brace himself against the door to stay standing up straight. “Well, can we at least sit down? You know, with seatbelts and . . . relative safety.”
“I’m staying in here.”
“Liz, other people are gonna have to piss.”
“Well, they can hold it,” she reasoned. “I’ll come out when we land. Maybe.”
Maybe, he thought, wishing that his girlfriend hadn’t discovered the world of drama. Girls dramatized everything. It drove him insane.
“Excuse me, sir,” a flight attendant said, tapping him on the shoulder.
He spun around and came face to face with a hot blonde with luscious pink lips and bright green eyes. She was gorgeous like Maria.
“The captain’s turned on the seatbelt sign.”
“So I have to sit down?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” He knocked once more on the bathroom door, sort of to let Liz know he was going, then hurried back to his seat and his seatbelt. He would deal with the girlfriend situation later. Right now, he still had the fear of flying situation to deal with.
TBC . . .
-April
(Michael will meet the parents in the next part.)
I'm really enjoying reading your feedback. I think you made a brilliant point when you pointed out that, although Maria is pulling the strings like the puppet master she is, she's not benefiting from it.
But I tried to update right after waking up and the site wasn't working! 
Badness!
