Nancy Parker looked at her husband. She saw nothing but risk with any option that was chosen. She wanted a safe, no risk course, and she knew there wasn’t one. Lizzy was going to be with this boy, either going to the movie, or leaving. Sure, she was underage, they might be able to get the Sheriff involved and hold her for a while, but she’d done nothing wrong, they couldn’t hold her forever, and when they let her go she’d be gone…..she’d be with the boy. But to give her permission to do something they didn’t know was safe….??? That could be just helping her destroy herself. Even if they couldn’t stop it, shouldn’t they at least show their disapproval? But what if that made things even worse? There were no easy answers. She looked back again to Jeff Parker and in the body language common to this long established couple she nodded her head to him. If they’d been in a connection it couldn’t have come across any clearer. ‘
Your decision, Dear. I’ll support you. Please God let this all work out OK.’
Lucy Frederickson watched the wordless interchange between the Parkers and couldn’t believe her eyes. There was no question what to do. Sure, she’d seen Liz fawn all over the boy, and him fawn all over her. So what? She’d spent over 11 years in a codependent relationship with an abusive man. She kept saying that she loved him through every drunken beating, the eternal verbal abuse, even the sexual degradation. She had been sure that each time was the last time, but it never was. And when she’d finally, after over a decade of saying it’ll never happen again, when she finally got the courage to go to the woman’s shelter, what had happened? He’d tried to attack the 10 year old girl they were fostering. If he hadn’t been so drunk he tripped over the boy foster child somehow and broke his leg, he’d have gotten her too. After a decade of being abused she couldn’t even feel good about leaving him, because that just let him go after an even more vulnerable victim.
And that’s why she couldn’t let this case go, no matter what the girl thought, no matter what her parents thought. Lucy would do her best to explain to the girl, to reason with her parents, but if they didn’t listen she’d go to the judge and get the restraining order herself. And if that wasn’t enough, if the parents still didn’t listen, perhaps the girl could be made a ward of the court. Because it was clear to Lucy, crystal clear, that the girl was like she had been for all those years, so vulnerable, so dependent, so needy. And Lucy had decided that she’d never leave another victim to fall prey to someone like her ex-husband, someone abusive, cruel, violent. Someone like that Max Evans kid.
Glaring at Max Evans, Lucy Frederickson pulled Liz’s hand away from him and pushed her into the corner, her face only inches from that of the girl. “Don’t you see..??” He’s just going to use you, just going to hurt you. He’s just like the other two, only worse, because all he did was show he was the strongest, the most ruthless, the most violent.”
“Max is kind and caring and he loves me.”
"That’s just the Stockholm Syndrome you have, just because he was the strongest and most vicious, you think you need to be his friend, you think if you love him, he’ll love you. He won’t. All it means is that he’s the strongest and most vicious. You need to stay away from him, not love him.
You can’t go with him. If you try I’ll get a court order myself, I’ll petition to have you made a ward of the court. We’ll go over his whole life, find out everything he’s done to other people, if we look hard enough, there’ll be something there. We’ll get him put away…..”
Dr. Barson had been partly right when he said that McMillan and Garber were taken out so hard they didn’t even know what hit them before they died. Both had been dead from the shockwave of the powerblast even before they hit the wall. But there was a serious difference in how the two had been feeling when they died. McMillan had been amazed, ...amazed to see his partner’s helpless victim suddenly become a wildcat. His last thoughts were of disbelief that someone so small and apparently helpless was giving Garber so much trouble.
Garber’s end was far worse, one of pain and terror. The terror, strangely enough, had actually preceded the pain. He’d looked in the eyes of the seemingly helpless young girl and seen something….feral, seen a savagery that even made him back off, even before her knee had ruptured his right testicle, even before her fingernail had slashed into the globe of his eye, even before her hand came back after the other eye, he had been terrified by that look.
And that was the look in the eyes of Liz Parker now as she stared up at Lucy Frederickson. Lucy’s eyes went wide with sudden fright, not really understanding the sudden change in the young girl. Liz pulled her hand away from Lucy, her eyes still locked on Lucy’s eyes, and reached up to softly touch her left cheek.
As the broken fingernail slowly and softly scraped down the side of Lucy’s cheek, leaving only the lightest of abrasions, something passed between the two women, not a connection, but more of a one-way projection from the brain of Liz Parker to the brain of Lucy Frederickson.
Not to the cerebellum, to the conscious brain, because this thought was more primitive than that, more primitive even than the spoken word. But to the archencephalon, the old brain, the primordial brain that existed even before there was language. The thought although primitive, was incredibly strong, and as it resonated up through the consciousness of Lucy Frederickson she understood the look in those eyes. It was communication below the level of speech, but the meaning was clear….*
Max Evans is mine…Don’t even THINK about hurting him*
Lucy Frederickson jumped back away from the girl, not really sure why she felt all that threatened by her. She looked back and forth between Liz Parker and Max Evans, and realized suddenly that her fear of the young girl was far greater than her fear of Max Evans. She looked back again at the girl’s eyes looking up at her, ….. eyes that promised pain……even death if Lucy tried to hurt what she believed to be hers…… And she knew, there was no compromise on this, no quarter would be asked, and no quarter would be given. She too had read the autopsy report, she too knew what damage had been done with that fingernail. Suddenly shaking in fright, she retreated several steps from Liz Parker, turned toward the door, and left the birthday room.
Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale –
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Man, a bear in most relations – worm and savage otherwise, –
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.
Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger – Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue – to the scandal of The Sex!
But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.
She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity – must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions – not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.
She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.
She is wedded to convictions – in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies! –
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.
-Rudyard Kipling
http://www.heretical.com/miscella/kipling1.html
Even before he saw Lizzy stare down Lucy Frederickson, Jeff Parker had known that his time had run out. Lizzy had made allowances for the people she loved, but her patience was not inexhaustible, and her patience was now gone.
His mind was full of many reasons why Lizzy shouldn’t go to that movie. This was not a baby-step, this was not a controlled situation, there were way too many questions still unanswered, and what he had just witnessed left the self control of both teenagers in doubt. And none of that mattered at all, because none of that mattered to Lizzy.
He looked at Max Evans and realized ironically that had Max come in and made that non-request , that statement that only superficially sounded like asking for permission, he could have probably negotiated with the boy, and Max would have been more than willing to compromise. But this wasn’t Max’s show, Lizzy had brought him in here, and the one he had to deal with was his own daughter, and he would either keep her or lose her with the next words that came out of his mouth…..
“Lizzy, ….how about I make some of my special hot chocolate for when the two of you get back from the movie? We could stay up awhile, if the Evans’ don’t mind, have some hot chocolate, maybe your Mom and I could get to know Max a little better….?”
Liz Parker smiled up at her dad. “My dad makes the best hot chocolate, Max. He uses shaved Baker’s chocolate, real cream, and a few other secret ingredients he won’t tell us about. It’s to die for…” *And
I’ll sneak a spoonful of Tabasco sauce in yours, you’ll LOVE It.*
“I’d like that very much, Mr. Parker. Don’t worry about Liz. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”
And somehow Jeff Parker, when he looked at the young man, knew that was true. Max would be there for her, to take care of her, to protect her, whenever she needed him. He wasn’t sure just how he knew that, but he knew that it was true.
9:05 PM Crashdown dining area.
Jim Valenti was enjoying his pie a la mode as Liz Parker came back from changing out of her waitress uniform and departed with Max. He was still pinning Isabel Evans in the booth by sitting there, but Michael Guerin was free to get up. As he heard and saw Mr. Parker tell Maria that she might as well take off too, that he’d close up since he had to stay up to make some hot chocolate anyway, he wandered over next to her.
“You interested in going to the movie too?”
“I’m not sure that Liz and Max want the company, Michael. How about coming over to my house and watching a video? Two bowls of popcorn? One butter, one Tabasco?”
“Sure, what’s the video?”
“A guy in the video store recommended it. It’s a Mel Gibson film, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy meets girl again, boy loses girl again, boy meets another girl, boy loses girl, boy goes back to the first girl…”
‘
That really sounds like a chick flick,’ thought Michael Guerin. ‘
Not really my kind of movie. She’s sure cute though. Why not?’
“That sounds great, Maria. What’s the name of it?”
“Braveheart, I think.”
“Never heard of it. But let’s give it a try.”
As Sheriff Valenti paid his check and said, “Good night, Miss Evans,” Isabel watched the two sets of parents talking in the birthday room, trying to get to know one another. It looked like they’d be here awhile.
She was taken by surprise when Alex Whitman sat down in the booth across the table from her.
“Are you interested in a video, Izzie? I’ve got this new one called Species, where this alien-human hybrid woman goes out stalking human guys to mate with. We could watch it at my house.”
“I’ve seen that video, and hate it. It’s the worst kind of stereotyping. And I don’t like science fiction anyway, it’s ridiculous. None of that stuff could ever really happen. And by the way, only my close friends and family call me Izzie.”
“Pardon me, Miss Evans.”
Isabel Evans looked up at Alex Whitman and kind of smiled. “I do like dancing though, and UFONICS will be open for another two hours, ...if you are interested.”
“I’d love to, Miss Evans.”
“Oh, and another thing, Alex…”
“Yes?”
“Call me Izzie.”
Monday 8:00 West Roswell High
It seemed ironic, somehow, that as long as there was obvious angst between Liz Parker and Max Evans, the rumor mill would churn out all sorts of stories about them, but when Liz came to school in the right seat of Max's jeep, when they held hands between classes, had lunch together, clearly enjoyed one another's company, they suddenly became old news.
The controversy died almost overnight, partly because nobody seeing the two of them together could really believe they'd ever been anything but in love, partly because of competing rumors that drowned out any remaining interest in Max and Liz.
Nobody really knew where the other rumor came from, but it spread like wildfire. It seemed like the latest rumor was that the three guys who had fought Alex Whitman, Pamela Troy's boyfriend, and even the obnoxious bully Ted Johnson had all gotten pulled in to the health department for STD contact interviews after being with Pamela Troy. It was a juicy rumor. No one knew the source, but it seemed like half the class had dreamed about it Sunday night.