When you killer talks to you, the whole process begins again. Denial, Fear, Regret, Acceptance.
He says, "I'll kill her."
Denial, fear, regret, acceptance.
Just do it already.
No, don't.
Denial, fear, regret, acceptance.
My eyes are still closed. This causes for much confusion when I hear another gun cock and someone say "Put down the gun."
Now wouldn't it be funny if Max came to rescue me. Perfect ending don't you think?
In my head, Max is blowing Ed Harding away and taking me home. He puts me on my bed and heals my cheek. He's running his fingers through my hair, over my arms, he's waiting for me to fall asleep. In my head, Max is sweet like this.
The voice is louder, it says, "Put down the goddamn gun."
The voice belongs to Kyle.
My eyes fly open and I see Ed Harding having some internal struggle. Kyle is holding a shotgun to his chest. Ed Harding is about to piss his pants.
I'm thinking: GO KYLE!!!!
A shotgun, Kyle looks like he's ready to go duck hunting.
Next to the shotgun, Barney looks like child's play.
Ed Harding drops the gun to the ground and I pick it up. Kyle instructs me on how to get the bullets out, and they go spraying to the floor, I pick them up and put them in my pocket.
I walk, no, I run behind Kyle. He whispers to me, "My dad is going to be here soon."
He says, "We can stay and get bombarded with paperwork and questions, or we can go."
"What if he runs?" I ask.
He says, "They'll catch him."
So we go. Kyle tells Ed Harding that if he tries to leave, he'll shoot off his balls. We get into our cars and drive off, slowly. Halfway down the street I look behind me, bright lights and black and white cars are pulling up in front of Tess's house.
I'm thinking: I almost died.
I almost died.
I almost died.
Over and over again.
This is over. God, this is finally over.
We park across the street from the Crashdown, Max's car is here. Me and Kyle approach each other hesitantly. You have to remember that Kyle has this thing about aliens, just the thought freaks him out.
He says, "I didn't tell anybody."
"How come?"
"Umm," He shrugs, "I don't know. I guess...I guess nobody needs to know."
Then I throw myself at him, I hug him, I'm saying "Thank you thank you thank you."
I say, "I almost died."
I'm thinking: I almost died.
He smiles, "You welcome." Then he hesitates and looks at me funny, opening his mouth like he has something to say. He says, "So why didn't you just like, blast him or something?"
"Aliens don't work well under pressure."
"Well how about a demonstration?"
"Later, Kyle."
Much, much later. I'm going to need to learn some pretty cool looking magic tricks.
We climb up onto my balcony and through the window we can see Max and Tess. She's still crying, he's got his arm around her.
It's not really that surprising you know, but it doesn't make it hurt any less, especially for Kyle.
And I know I shouldn't be sad. I'm alive. But still, there's this melancholy, I've made a few decisions. It's going to be hard to let go, It's going to take time, but I can do it.
I can do it, 'cause I'm alive.
Max and Tess don't see us. Me and Kyle sit on my balcony against the brick wall. It's so dark out and starting to cool down.
"Who do you think would win in a fight," Kyle says, "Me or Max."
I look at Kyle sympathetically, "Probably Max."
Disbelief passes over Kyle's face, "Really? That sucks, I bet I could take him."
I smile, "I keep thinking of you with that shotgun, you were like, Commando: deer hunter style."
"Yea I was pretty badass wasn't I."
"Yea."
"Well," He slaps his hands against the floor, "I'd love to stay and watch that asshole mooch on my girlfriend but I think I'm gonna take off, make sure my dad got him, they're probably going to need to question Tess and I."
He's hiding his pain.
"Ok," I say, "Thanks again Kyle."
He gets up, "No problem. One more thing, is there other aliens, isn't there supposed to be two more?"
"It's just me," I say, "I was the only one that survived the crash."
He nods, "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, you can show me some tricks." His head disappears as he goes down the ladder.
Wonderful.
So I sit here on my balcony. It's weird, after you almost die. Kind of hard to think. Everything has that shiny newness to it, like the whole world has been reborn.
I get up and walk to the window, open it up. I'm not even looking at them. "Don't mind me," I say, "Just wanted to get something."
I walk to my desk and pull out a stack of papers.
This is my future.
I go back outside and sit down on my lawn chair. I stare at the papers.
Here's the thing: all my complaining about this town, and I could have left the entire time.
With a swipe of a pen, I graduate high school. In a couple days, I'll get a diploma in the mail. I'm hoping to be gone before that, I'll have my parents mail it to me, wherever I end up.
"Liz?"
I turn around and see that Max is coming outside, Tess is still sitting on the bed. He hesitates walking to me, he still looks pretty freaked out.
"What happened to your cheek?" He asks.
I say, "I got into a fight with a refigerator and lost."
"Did something happen?"
"Nope."
He looks at the papers, "What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving Max, hasta la vista Roswell."
His eyes widen, "Leaving Roswell?"
"Yessum."
"You can't just leave, what about school, what about your parents?"
"They'll deal."
"What about Alex and Maria?"
I shrug, "They'll come when they graduate." He looks concerned, maybe it's hard for him to lose a best buddy, we have been through a lot. I say, "I've wanted to get out of here for so long Max, I need this, I need to start over."
I say, "Someone needs to take her down to the station, can you do it?"
He's grinding his jaw again, ever so slightly, thinking. He nods. He looks towards the ground.
"So," I say, "You and Tess huh?"
His head whips around towards the window, "Uhhh, I guess."
I say, "Good for you, Max."
And I mean this. He got what he wanted, good for him.
I walk towards the ladder and climb over onto the first rung, I say, "There's a party at Eddie's tomorrow, you guys should come."
He's looking at the floor, he says, "Yea, sure."
I wonder what his problem is.
Not my problem anymore.
I'm thinking, now get out of my room so I can take a shower.
I climb down the ladder and enter the Crashdown through the front door. It's basically empty. Except for the woman who sits in the corner and Michael and Isabel.
I walk into the back room and Maria throws an apron at me, avoiding me with her eyes. She says, "Your three hours late for your shift, and Tess didn't show up, so I figure you owe me."
I say, "My shift."
She opens her locker forcefully and pretends to rummage through it, probably so that she doesn't have to look at me, "Yea," she says, "Remember? Work? That thing we used to do together? The thing you get paid for? You were supposed to start at six."
I say, "Work."
I drop my apron. You can only put off crying for so long. I don't want to work right now, I want to take a goddamn shower.
Is this too much to ask.
I almost fucking died.
Alls I want is a shower.
Maria slams her locker shut, still not looking at me, "Of course it doesn't even matter right now because we only have three customers, and two don't particularly like you very much, and who knows what the barking lady thinks of you so..." She glances at me, "Are you crying?"
This is the question that just makes you snap. I'm sure you know what I mean. Your crying a little bit and someone asks you if your crying and the waterworks start flowing.
I'm shaking my head in the negative and I'm bawling now. And it feels. so. good.
Before I know it Maria is right in front of me, pulling my head towards her shoulder, "Lizzy what's wrong?"
I try to speak but it just comes out as this horrible sob. I figure I might as well not even try. I just close my eyes and push the tears out, they've been wanting to get out for so long now. I push it all out and away. Everything, the tears, the pain, all the blood I've seen. All the things I've never done that I get to do 'cause I'm alive. All the things I should have done that I'll handle differently in the future, starting now.
I say, "I'm sorry."
She shakes her head, not understanding, "Is that why your crying?"
Then I laugh. I'm laughing and crying at the same time.
She's pulling back and looking at me like I've lost it.
Maybe I did lose it. I did, but then I found it.
So I sit her on the couch and I tell her. Not everything, but most of it. I tell her about Tess, how Tess was staying with me and why. I tell her how I didn't do anything. I tell her that when I did decide to do something I went to Tess's house and got a gun in my face.
And thank god, she understands. She's sorry too, she says. She missed me so much. She's glad I'm not dead, she should have talked to me sooner.
We go back and forth like this, crying and reaffirming our friendship. I need this, badly. I need a best friend that I'm not obsessed with.
I ask her about Michael and she says they have this love hate relationship. She says he makes fun of her all the time but she thinks he secretly likes her.
I smile and say, "You know, Michael's an alien."
She smiles back and says, "Yea Liz, I know."
She doesn't really know. She's heard this a thousand times and doesn't believe me, she's just humoring me.
I knew she wasn't going to believe me, that's why I told her.
Maria tucks me in bed, kissing me on the forehead.
It's so nice to have a best friend again.
"By the way," I say as she's about to close the door, "Your sister is a ho."
"Your just learning this? Hey, you going to that party tomorrow?"
I say, "Yea, I have a date with Eddie, were gonna get really high and play spin the bottle."
She laughs because she knows I'm joking, "Night Liz."
"Night Maria."
Then I go to bed, and I sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep.
*****
"You didn't wear the red sweater."
Oh lord, he really thought he could tell me what to wear.
"It's a hundred degrees outside Eddie, anyway, I wore my special blue tank top just for you baby."
Hahaha.
The day after you almost die, you have a lot of fun. You joke with people a lot, every thing is just funny.
Eddie smirks, "I even got my haircut for you."
"Ok, a half an inch doesn't count as a haircut."
He shrugs, "Well, I could have snorted a line before I picked you up."
"Good, we wouldn't want your nose to rot out, now would we?"
Me and Eddie, we really hate each other, in that friendly sort of way.
We sit on his couch and watch the people file in and congregate by the keg.
I'm not thinking about Max.
I swear.
Not even when he comes in, alone.
Not even when he sits next to me.
He says, "Hey." He's smiling like a goofball.
"Where's Tess?"
He shrugs.
"What's your problem?" I ask.
"No problem."
"Okay.."
Eddie calls to me from across the room, "Liz, you want a beer."
It wasn't a question.
"No I don't."
Max lowers his eyebrows, "Your here with Eddie?"
"Not another word."
"So, he finally convinced you, huh?"
I smile, "Shut up Max."
"Gonna have his love child?"
"SAVE IT."
Max's smile fades and looks around the room nervously, "I need to talk to you."
Courtney walks into the room assaulting Max with her eyes. Figures. She dings a fork against an empty glass bottle of beer. "Who wants to play spin the bottle!? How bout it Max?"
Max looks at me, "Shall we?"
"You go ahead, go slip Courtney some tongue, she'll like that."
"That's gross Liz."
"Yea, well."
I'm all happy and jokey like this on the outside. On the inside, I'm just trying to breath. He didn't even ask me when I was leaving, he didn't even say goodbye or I'll miss your or anything.
He joins the rest of the group in the middle of the room. Alex and Maria are here, they wave at me and sit in the circle.
I wonder why he's even playing, Tess isn't here.
Eddie joins me on the couch, "We should play."
"No we shouldn't."
"Yea," he says, "Maybe we should just cut the crap and go make out in the back room."
"That's not exactly what I meant."
He shrugs, "I had to try."
"Yea, and you just keep trying and trying and trying."
Eddie says, "I really, seriously, don't even have like a .000001% chance, do I?"
"Ummm.." I shake my head sympathetically, "probably not, I'm leaving in a couple days, plus you smell like weed."
He smiles, "Thanks!"
Ohhh boy.
So I sit here.
A group of my peers in a circle in front of me.
This is how it should be, you know. Everyone seems happy, and I'm happy for them.
So this is my last splash, my big goodbye.
I would like to be happy too.
Alex spins the bottle, it lands on Maria.
I am laughing, so hard right now.
Maria gives me a dirty look and glances at Alex uncomfortably.
"Make it good!" I scream from the couch.
They push their lips out as far as they can go and give each other a little peck.
"That sucked," I say, "I'm gonna need a do-over."
I'm really vocal tonight. I feel like I could do anything now that I'm leaving. I feel like starting a fight.
"Why don't you play Parker," says Courtney, "Afraid of your first kiss?"
I grab Eddies bottle of beer, "Talk to me again and I throw this bottle at your head."
Whoa.
Don't know where that came from.
Max is laughing.
Eddie grabs the bottle, "Don't throw that, it's mine."
I lean back and take a deep breath. Michael spins the bottle, it lands on Maria.
They kiss.
I wonder if Maria will still want to leave after schools over.
Isabel spins the bottle, it lands on Alex.
What a surprise.
They kiss.
It's Max's turn and nobody knows why he's playing, including me. I don't know, maybe he's feeling invincible too, maybe he just wants to do something crazy.
This is really hard, you know. Trying to let go. This is pretty painful, but I don't want to think about that.
I should be happy, I'm alive.
Yea.
So he spins it.
And everyone wants to know, who will Max kiss tonight?
And I'm not sure if I could care less, or if I need to know to survive.
Obsession is weird like that.
But you know all this, right?
You know it lands on me.
You know I say I'm not playing, twice.
You know that he looks at me, he looks me in the eye.
Right smack in the eye.
And my insides, they quiver, they shudder, they die. I didn't know it would be like this. I just sit here and breath, concentrate on breathing.
"Neither am I." Says Max.
He might be speaking metaphorically, not playing games anymore. I'm wondering what game we were playing. He's not supposed to like me, this is not how things are supposed to go.
He's supposed to be with Tess, that's who he wanted goddamit. This isn't supposed to happen.
I never thought this would happen, I never planned for this.
This isn't happening, this isn't real.
I look at Eddie, "Take me home."
Nobody really knows what's going on. I get up and walk outside, hoping Eddie is following.
I'm just trying to concentrate on walking to Eddie's car. Someone grabs my wrist and turns me around.
You know, sometimes everything stops spinning and everything points right at you.
And what the hell are you going to do about it.
Max says, "Lemme talk to you."
I say, "Talk."
"I don't want you to leave."
"Too bad."
"When are you leaving anyway?"
"Couple days."
He clenches his eyes, is that pain?
This can't be real. Max has lost it.
"Liz," he says, you can see his eyes getting all soft and mushy, "I have these....I feel....I've been think..."
"Spit it out."
He takes a deep breath, "I like you Liz...you know....in that..more than a friend kind of way."
Not happening.
"You like Tess."
He shakes his head, "See that's the funny thing...I don't...at all. I dropped her off at Kyle's house tonight, they made up."
"You've lost it."
The way he looks at you, you just can't breath. His voice, it's so breathy, so deep, you have to listen. "Liz, I've been stupid, more than stupid. I've been an asshole to you. Kyle told me what happened," He shakes his head, "I should have been there, you could have died."
My eyes are drying out. I can't even blink, they're going to fall right out of my head. "Max, you are under a lot of stress right now, you need to sit down and think about what you are saying."
He says, "Don't leave."
"Your insane."
"I'm pouring my heart out here, will you please give me a break."
"No."
He groans, he seems frustrated, "When are you coming back."
"I don't know. This is over, this is supposed to be over, this isn't about me."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
I shake my head.
He says, "This is about you, Liz, and this isn't over by a longshot."
I can't breath. I can't talk. What is happening here.
He says, "If you don't come back in a week, I will get in my car, and I will find you."
I try to say something but it comes out like a sort of squeaking noise. Eddie comes out holding his keys, "You ready to bail?"
I nod.
Max says, "Liz, you don't want to go home with Eddie, he's annoying."
Eddie says, "Hey!"
I take deep breaths, my voice comes out harsh and whispered, "What if I don't like you like that Max, what then?"
He looks down and smiles, "You do."
"HUH?"
"I've known...for a while Liz....I figured it out from the file, if it wasn't Kyle, you know...who else would it be."
My mouth, it's dropped to the floor now. I reach for the car door, I get in.
I can't even think.
I try, and it's just blank.
Just nothing and darkness.
Eddie takes me home.
I think about nothing.
All night.
----------------------------
It's Monday morning. I don't even remember the last couple of days, because I've been sitting here, doing nothing.
I haven't packed.
I haven't done anything.
So do you think I'm crazy? Think I'm stupid?
Well let me tell you something.
Let me make something perfectly clear.
I need you to close your eyes and imagine this for me. Do it.
Imagine yourself in a swimming pool, with Max Evans. Half naked, pressed up against his body.
Imagine his chest against yours and his breath on your neck.
Imagine his lips, imagine his tongue against your skin. Imagine his fingers playing with the back of your bra.
Think about what he wants to do to you. Think about what you want to do to him.
Do it.
Now, think about watching him watching someone else for years.
I repeat: years.
Think about him two weeks ago not being able to remember your name.
Do it.
And you try to tell me that this is real. You try to tell me that I should just believe him.
I'm not saying he's lying. Maybe he really does think he likes me. I think he's not seeing straight, I think he's irrational and impulsive.
Try to tell me I shouldn't be scared.
'Cause I am. I'm scared as hell.
I've been hurting a lot in the past few weeks you know, and I've dealt with it. But I don't want to get hurt by him.
I really don't want to get hurt by him.
I can't imaging being able to deal with that.
The phone is ringing now, it's Maria, she's talking through a mouthful of yogurt.
She says, "Sheeesh girrl, Mash Evvens hasha meeejer cush on yoo."
I say, "Huh?"
She swallows, "Max Evans, I went over to Isabel's house today and Max like attacked me wanting to know where you went and if your gone. He's all mopey and stuff, he's got it bad."
I say, "Oh."
"You should call him."
"Yea maybe."
I get off the phone with Maria and immediately pick up the phone again.
I have to make a call.
I need to make a call.
"Dr. Amos this is Liz."
"Hello Liz."
"I need an appointment today."
"Well, I have an opening at 10."
"That'll be great....Oh, and Dr. Amos?"
"Yes Liz?"
"I'm bringing a friend."
*****
There's no place like home.
That's the sign over Max's front door.
You know the sign. You've seen it before. Lots of people have them, or something along the same lines. It's made out of imperfectly cut wood. It almost always has some sort of picture painted on it, it's almost always fading. A heart maybe, or a teddy bear, or some fat little naked cherubs. Max's has a picture of a house, a red and blue house you imagine seeing somewhere in the backwoods of America. The words are printed onto a painted scroll that unfurls underneath the little house.
There's no place like home.
It looks handmade, like somebody's grandmother made it. But you've seen them so often you just know they have to be mass produced. I imagine a warehouse full of peoples grandmothers, row after row of grannies. Little grannies with cushy chairs and ergonomic desks, their paint supplies spread out before them. I imagine this all takes place somewhere near the north pole.
And my father says my generation has no imagination.
Yea. The elves cut the wood, they send it to the grannies. On the wood, the grannies paint happy pictures. They paint tidy little statements about life that they've learned throughout the years. Life instructions. They don't always say the same thing. Sometimes you see them in peoples kitchens.
Sometimes they say:
Kiss the cook.
Home is where the heart is.
God bless this house.
There's no place like home.
I look down the street at the rest of the houses. The ones that somebody tried to make different from this particular house, and failed. There's no place like home my ass.
There's plenty of places like home.
That's what mine would say.
I ring the doorbell and Max's mom answers.
She says, "Liz! What a surprise! I thought you were leaving!"
She's doing the secret mom smile. The kind of smile moms get when their children have been talking about someone all weekend and then they see that person. She's also got the secret mom look, it's kind of evaluative.
Moms can do this sort of thing, you know, it's a secret mom power. She's looking me up and down and right through me, in a friendly way. You just know what she's thinking.
Let's see if this person is good enough for my son.
I'm thinking not.
Pathological liars aren't exactly the kind of people you want to bring home to Mom and Dad.
"Do you want some breakfast," she says with her secret smile, "There's still a few pancakes left."
Her generosity amazes me. She reminds me of my grandmother. I say, "Thank you, but I already ate."
That's the thing about people offering me food. I live above a restaurant, food is unlimited to me, I could never go hungry.
"Max is upstairs," she says.
I wonder if she knows her children are aliens. Knowing Max, probably not. He's probably too afraid to tell her, afraid of being abandoned again.
I make my way up the carpet covered stairs, into the dark hallway. They must be saving energy, courtesy of the power crisis.
I knock on Max's door. Heart pounding 'cause I know he's going to be testing my ability to breath and talk today. I have this whole plan though, I'll just try to treat him how I normally would, see if he realizes how stupid he's being.
He says, "What is it."
I say, "Would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?"
I hear a few soft steps behind the doorway. The door cracks open and he looks through with his eye. He says, "Holy shit."
"I take that as a no?"
He smiles. It's different when he smiles and he's looking right at you. He never shows his teeth, you know. Just a shy smile that he's always reserved for Tess. "You didn't leave."
I say, "Not yet, go somewhere with me."
"Where?"
"If I tell you, you won't go."
"Yea I will."
I say, "Jupiter."
I regret saying that immediately. I just implied that I wanted to go alone with him to another planet, how freaking romantic, I was just trying to think of something farfetched.
He opens his door wider, "Okay....? Lemme put on some shoes."
I walk into his room and over to his bookcase. I like looking at his books. I skim my fingers over some of the titles. Near the bottom of his bookcase are his older books, spines wearing off from wear and tear, pages falling out. I reach a copy of Romeo and Juliet and laugh, such irony. I pull out the copy and flip through the pages.
Max glances over, he says, "Good book."
I laugh incredulously, "Your kidding, right?"
"I thought it was your favorite."
I slam the little paperback shut, "Who told you that?"
"Maria."
I hold it up, "This was my favorite book four years ago, not anymore."
"Well what happened?"
"I read it for the tragedy that it was."
I cringe inside, do I even dare to go here?
He says, "It's not that sad....I mean, it's sad, cause they have to die, but at least they do it together."
Yes, I dare go here, such a perfect analogy.
I say, "They kill themselves for no reason, their love was an impulse, Romeo was addicted to being in love."
He looks at me in confusion and drops his shoelaces, "How so?"
"Rosaline."
"Rosaline?"
"You have to pay attention to the first few pages, Max," I say, "Puts the whole story into perspective."
I could debate Romeo and Juliet all day, I'm a pro at this.
I continue, "The first two scenes in act one, Romeo is going on and on about a girl. But is it Juliet? Nope. It's Rosaline, Max. Romeo is ready to drive off a cliff because Rosaline is getting married to someone else, couple scenes later, he's only got eyes for Juliet."
I say, "Sound familiar?"
"He was addicted to love," I say, "He was impulsive. If Juliet had died and he didn't, he probably would have gotten over her in the next couple of scenes."
And the tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
Max expression becomes serious, "No he wouldn't."
"Yea, he would."
He says, "This is different."
"Sounds the same to me."
"Liz," he says, "Romeo wasn't an alien."
"No," I say, "He was a Montague."
I'm thinking, so there.
He shakes his head and finishes tying his shoelaces, he stands up and faces me next to the bookcase.
He says, "Maybe Romeo chose to be in love with Rosaline because she was getting married. Maybe he did this because he didn't think he was worthy enough to be loved by anyone. Maybe," he says, "Juliet showed him he was wrong."
I shake my head, "None of this is implied in the book."
"Screw the book."
I look at my watch, 9:45, "It's time to go."
*****
Max says, "Were going to therapy?"
I nod.
He says, "Cool."
We pull into a parking spot and walk through the glass doors to the front desk. The receptionist tells us that Dr. Amos will be in a moment, to go sit in his office.
So we go.
It's bright and sunny in the office, and quiet. The only thing you can hear is the tick tock of the clock. I sit down in one of the fluffy armchairs and Max walks around the room. He turns around the globe on Dr. Amos's desk.
I know why he did this because I've done it before. See, Dr. Amos has a place for everything, a position for everything. Psychologists are like this. There's like a manual that tells them how to decorate their rooms so that they have the right environment for therapy. There are stack and stacks of books, and a big cherrywood desk, these imply power. The therapist always has to be in a position of power.
It would be safe to say that I've thrown off the power differential on a number of occasions, really freaks Dr. Amos out.
Max turns around one of the pictures on his desk.
I say, "Your mean."
"You know you've done it."
I shrug and pick up the little skeleton.
I say, "Do you think he hates us?"
He settles down on an armchair, "Nah."
"If I was him, I would hate us."
I make the little skeleton fall and get back up again. I say, "I want this."
Max nods.
"I've never stolen anything before."
"Maybe you should ask."
"Yea, it's my last session and all, he'll probably give it to me."
He frowns, "Liz, don't leave."
"Umm..."
"Stay a couple more weeks, four months and schools over, you can take another four months."
"That's what you think."
"Your not even giving me a chance."
The door opens, Dr. Amos is more than surprised. He just stands there, mouth open slightly. He says, "Max, Liz, what a nice....surprise."
He hates us.
I hold up the skeleton, "Can I have this, this is our last session."
Max groans.
Dr. Amos says, "What??"
I put the skeleton in my pocket, right next to the alien.
Now they get to live happily ever after in my linty pocket.
Max says, "I like Liz, she doesn't believe me, she's going to leave."
Dr. Amos sits down and smiles, "You like Liz?"
Max glances at me, "Yea."
I say, "This can be explained."
I pull out a piece of paper from my pocket and begin to read. I say, "Number one, I found out his secret and I didn't tell anybody."
Max says, "You made a list?"
"Hush. Number two, I still accepted him as a friend after I knew the secret."
Max looks at Dr. Amos, "Is that a bad reason to like her?"
Dr. Amos raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. He says, "I think..."
"I'm not done. Number three, somebody found out the secret and I took the blame, well not really the blame, you know what I mean. Number four, he knows that I....have....that I.....l-l, l-like him."
Max smiles.
Dr. Amos says, "Well why don't we..."
"Number five, I almost died saving the life of his object of affection."
Max says, "Liz, she's not..."
Dr. Amos says, "You almost died?"
"Under the circumstances, including that I'm leaving," I say, "It is understandable that he might be having certain unexplainable, fleeting, feelings for his new best buddy that happens to know his secret, that happens not to care, and so on, and so forth, thank you very much."
I fold the paper back up and put it into my pocket.
Max says, "Unexplainable and fleeting my ass."
Dr. Amos says, "Max, I think you should..."
I say, "He doesn't know what he wants."
"I know exactly what I want."
Dr. Amos says, "Well how about we..."
"Your feelings are superficial."
"Liz, all that stuff just shows what kind of person you are, but that's not the only reason I like you."
Dr. Amos says, "Max, Liz, you really shouldn't...."
"Two weeks ago, you couldn't even remember my name."
"I was an idiot."
Dr. Amos holds up his hands, "Fine, don't listen to me, I'm just the therapist"
"You'll get sick of me, you'll forget about me."
"I will not"
Dr. Amos says, "I mean, why listen to the therapist, what does he know."
"You got sick of Tess, you forgot about Tess."
"I never felt like this about Tess, I didn't forget about her."
Dr. Amos says, "Why don't I just give you two my license and you can sit in here and bicker all day. Did somebody move my globe? Who moved my globe?"
"How am I supposed to believe you."
"You give me a chance, that's how."
"Who moved my picture?"
"I want out of here."
"I can prove all this to you, but not if you leave."
"ENOUGH!!!!" Dr. Amos screams.
"WHO MOVED MY PICTURE?"
Me and Max point at each other.
Dr. Amos nods, "I am very disappointed in both of you."
Me and Max cower under Dr. Amos's glare.
"Listen to yourselves, you sound like kindergartners."
I lean forward, "You want to know Max's secret Dr. Amos?"
Max's and Dr. Amos's eyes fly wide open.
"He still listens to New Kids on the Block, has all their albums."
Max smiles, "SHHHHHHHH, it's a secret."
"I caught him doing the running man in his room in the dark."
Dr. Amos says, "Unless you feel like getting serious, you can leave."
"That's illegal, you can't bail on a patient."
"I can if I feel the patient can no longer be helped by me."
HUH?
No way.
Dr. Amos can't bail on me.
Is this true?
I flip through the psychology field guide in my head.
Dr. Amos looks at my sympathetically, "Will you please listen to me."
"Yea."
He glances at Max, "I talked to Max last week, and I believe that him liking you is a healthy prospect."
I say, "Healthy?"
Max smiles in satisfaction.
"However, Maxwell, perhaps you may have realized this too late."
Max says, "Too late?"
"If Liz wants to leave, you can't make her stay."
Inside, I get this feeling. That sinking feeling, that rollercoaster sinking feeling.
I want him to make me say.
I want him to lock me in his closet and make me stay.
Am I actually thinking this?
No.
No, I'm not.
I hate it here.
There's plenty of places like home.
The timing, it's just so wrong.
Dr. Amos says, "If we had more time, we could work on this together, but as of now, I don't think I can help you two any further."
Max's eyes fly to the floor, he gets up and leaves. I follow, he has the car.
Dr. Amos says, "So was this our last session Liz?"
I stutter, "I don't.....can I.....how about....I don't know."
I run to catch up with Max. We get into his car. I wish he would stop acting so sad.
He says, "Your skipping town and I'm the impulsive one."
Not gonna cry.
He puts the car into drive, "That sucks Liz, that just sucks."
He pulls out of the parking lot, "I know this is my fault, but your not even giving me an inch to work with."
I put my hand in my pocket and listen to the alien fall apart and get back together.
Max turns the wrong way on Fig street.
He says, "If you didn't want to get out of here so bad, would you give me a chance?"
"Huh?"
"Even the slightest chance?"
"Where are you going?"
"Would you?"
"Yea, I would."
Max nods.
"Where are you going?"
"It's a surprise."
Huh?
This is what's going through my head, over and over: Huh?
I say, "You heading towards the highway."
He says, "yea."
huh?
"Where are you going."
He says, "We're getting you out of here."
huh?
"Huh?"
"You wanted to get out of here, your getting out of here, I can't make you stay, so we're getting out of here."
"Umm..."
"I can't give up right now, Liz, there's too much I have to say."
"Your kidnapping me."
"Three days, just give me three days."
"Your a kidnapper."
Max is kidnapping me.
"I am not."
"Where are we going."
"We're going to the poppy fields."
"California?"
Max is kidnapping me.
"Three days."
"Your insane."
"Nope."
"This is illegal."
Max swallows, "I'll take you home, if you want, I'll turn right around."
"Huh?"
"Come with me, just let me talk to you, give me three days."
Oh.
My.
God.
"So how about it Liz? We'll have fun, I promise."
Oh god. Oh god oh god.
"How about this, if you don't tell me to turn around in the next two minutes, I'll just keep driving, alright?"
"Huh?"
"Two minutes."
"What has gotten into you, your not like this."
He shakes his head, "I don't know, I think this is a panic thing."
He says, "Go with me."
I say, "I wanted to see the poppy fields, I was thinking that, when I almost died."
"Go with me then."
"I don't know."
"If the world explodes tomorrow, you'll never get to see the poppy fields, so go with me."
I'm thinking, I almost died.
I'm thinking, he might like me, he might really really like me.
I close my eyes, this is scary, this is beyond scary.
And I say: "Ok."
Spin.
Lots of things spin.
Roller coasters, lives, minds, bottles.
Right now, what happens to be spinning is the wheels on Max's jeep as he quasi-kidnaps me.
Of course, I'm a willing participant, but that doesn't make it any less scary. I don't know how fast or slow I want this to go. I don't know what he has to say in order to make me stay in Roswell.
He's sweet, you know, like he is in my diluted little fantasies. But it's different in real life. I don't know how to be the center of someones attention. I have no clue how to take a compliment other than to refute or deny it. I didn't know what he saw in Tess and I equally don't know what he sees in me. And while I would love to know all this, there's no way in hell I'm going to ask.
This isn't a self-esteem thing, I don't think. I know I don't look like a wildabeast and maybe I'm fun to be around and yea, I saved his ass a couple times.
But why me, and why here and why now. Was I just in the right place at the right time?
He's quiet now as we drive past the outskirts of Roswell. His gaze steadied on the road ahead of us. He's got that look, you know the one, the quiet, contemplative, stoic one that drives all the girls crazy. The one you would pay millions of dollars for just for a peek inside.
This is how he usually is in the Crashdown, and at school. I actually have seen him laugh and smile and be evil, that was a rare thing. But I was his best friend, I guess it just came along with the territory.
"Having second thoughts?" I ask.
He glances at me stubbornly, " No, are you?"
"If you are you can turn around, I won't say a thing, It's still not too late."
He shakes his head, "I'm not turning around, I'm just thinking about where I should start. And try as you might, your not gonna convince me that I don't like you."
"Where you should start what?"
"Apologizing."
We get on the 285 North.
He shifts into a higher gear and his arm pushes a little out of his shirt. His arms, there something about his arms, you know, like you just wanna bite 'em.
When did I become such a girly girl.
He smiles and says, "I've never groveled before, I've never even come close."
"Well please don't start on my account."
He glances at me doubtfully, "I have a feeling your not gonna let me off easily."
I look out the window, "Let you off. Consider yourself let off."
"Why are you so uncomfortable?"
"I'm not."
"Liz, your sitting as far away from me as you can."
He's right, I'm plastered against door.
He says, "I hate this."
"Hate what."
"I hate feeling like some perverted kidnapper."
"That's a second thought, turn around."
I know, I know: Get with the picture Liz, be the cute little girlfriend we all know you can be.
Max takes a hand from the steering wheel and slides it down his face, "I am not having second thoughts, your not being yourself, your closing off."
"Maybe that's just the way I am."
He shakes his head, "That's not the way you were with me."
It's one of those statements that you know is right, so you just shut up.
He pulls off the highway, "We need gas."
I fish the little skeleton and alien out of my pocket. This is us you know, almost. Max is the alien, this is his secret, this is why he punishes himself. I'm not the skeleton yet, I could be. First I have to expose myself, right down to the bone. Put all my secrets on display for him to see like he has with me.
Skeletons have no secrets, they tell no lies, they can't close themselves off. Exposure, they have no places to hide anything. Me? I have plenty.
Max returns with a huge bag of who knows what.
He sifts through the bag and says, "We've got water, soda, Cornuts, ummmm...chocolate? Gum..."
"What kind of chocolate."
"M&M's" he says pulling out the little brown bag.
"OOHH." I reach for it but he pulls away.
He says, "First, you have to promise to be nice."
"My chocolate."
"Your not big on sharing, are you."
I smile, "Mine."
He rolls his eyes, "Fine, fine. Today it's chocolate, tomorrow you'll be wanting my car, my house."
I say, "Your money."
He nods, "My money."
"Your book collection."
"Your ruthless."
"Don't I know it."
Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe I just flirted with Max Evans.
That doesn't mean I'm ready to let everything go just yet.
He pumps the gas and we get back on the 285 north. I don't know, call it self-punishment, but there are certain things I need to know.
"So did you and Tess get it on."
I see a slight frown pass over his face, leave it to me to ruin a perfect best buddy moment.
He says, "No...we just.."
"Made out a lot?"
He shifts in his seat uncomfortably.
I say, "Dry humping, groping?"
"Liz."
"You did not have sexual relations with that woman."
"Stop it."
"Sure you didn't, President Evans."
"We kissed."
"Where."
"Where?"
"Yea, where."
"Ummm...at my house?"
"That's not what I meant, I'm talking body parts here."
"Whoa, whoa whoa whoa, wait a second, Liz, we kissed, there was no removed clothing."
"Oh." I say, "What about wandering hands."
"There was no groping."
"You know, I made out with Eddie."
"You did?"
"Yea, you jealous?"
He raises his eyebrows, " Yes!"
"I'm just kidding."
"Oh.....good."
I nod.
He nods.
We drive.
"What are you going to tell your parents?" I ask.
He shrugs, "I don't know yet, you?"
"I'm gonna tell them to call the cops, I've been kidnapped."
"Your having fun and you know it."
"Possibly. I'll just say I went camping, they don't care, I was about to move out anyway. Your missing school."
"Three days, big deal."
"That's very delinquent of you."
"Where should we stay?"
"Stay?"
"Yea, tonight."
"Stay the night?"
He says, "The middle of Arizona is about halfway, we might want to go a little further than that."
I say, "In a hotel?"
"Yea."
"Together?"
He smiles, "Well I was thinking maybe I could get a room and you could sleep in the car."
I say, "Good idea."
"This is fun."
"Yea, so don't ruin it."
"Let me apologize."
"Knock yourself out."
"Don't freak out."
"Who, me?"
Inside, my stomach is doing a kick flip 180 double ollie nose grind.
He takes a deep, shaky breath. The kind that people take when there about to say something big.
He says, "I've never had...so much fun...with anyone...in my entire life." He looks out the window, that's what people do when their giving out a big dose of truth. "I mean...you knew about me.....god this is embarrassing."
"Then stop."
"I didn't plan this either, ok? But I like you Liz, in that scary, nervous, I-hope-you-forgive-me-soon kind of way."
I swallow.
"And Tess, she doesn't even compare, Liz. I mean, she's nice and pretty and all but you...... you...I don't even...know how to describe it. When I was in that pool with you....I was so....."
"Horny?"
GAH. I just can't keep my stupid mouth shut.
He smiles, "Well that too. I was confused. You read the file Liz, Tess was nothing but an unhealthy preoccupation. And it took me....way too long....to realize how...amazing you were. And then you almost died and......and then you saved me."
He glances at me, "You saved me from everything Liz. So forgive me already, cause this friendship thing? It's great and everything but it's really not satisfying my needs here."
"Your needs being?"
"You."
I close my eyes because I'm getting chills now. The lingering kind that won't go away, and when they do go away another one comes.
I say, "She has purple bras."
"Huh?"
"Tess has purple lace bras."
"Ummm....ok."
"Mine are white."
He laughs.
I say, "Cotton to be exact, is that going to be a problem?"
"Well," he says, "You could just show me and we can get this matter cleared up immediatly."
"Very funny."
"We went from apologizing to talking about your underwear, so pardon me if I have a hard time concentrating."
Max is having sexual thoughts about yours truly. If the earth opened up and swallowed me whole, I wouldn't be surprized.
I say, "Are you always this honest."
"I'm never this honest, ever."
I close my eyes and listen to the hum of the engine. In the rear view mirror, I can see the wheel spinning around and around. Maybe fantasies and love from afar aren't so great after all. Their less scary, but there not so great. I just hope I can get my foot out of my mouth long enough to let myself be happy.
"Maybe I should be honest too."
"That would be nice."
I say, "Let's get to the hotel first."
He nods.
I say, "I lie a lot."
"I know."
"It's getting kind of old."
He says, "Ok."
I say, "Wanna hear a teensy weensy secret?"
"Yea."
"Promise you won't get mad."
"I promise."
"I told Tara Fisher you were gay."
"I told Tara Fisher you were gay."
This is what he does: Not a damn thing.
His eyes are motionless, steadied on the broken yellow line as it disappears underneath the car. The corners of his lips turn upwards slightly.
I say, "I'm serious."
I'm hoping he can handle this, there is more brutal honesty to come later, scores of it, washloads of it.
He nods in that non-chalont way people nod when the're talking about the weather. His fingers tap against the steering wheel. He says, "That's ok, I told her you were a lesbian."
"WHAT?"
"Yep, you and Tess," he laughs, "You should have seen her face, I think she has a thing for you."
I set my face in stone, "I guess I can understand, she was so heartbroken when she heard you were gay. By the way, your wearing her favorite shirt."
He looks at me, "Your mad because I beat you at your own game."
"In no way, shape, or form could you ever beat me at lying," I say, "Your mean."
"Me? Not only did everyone think I was trying to steal Tess from Kyle, then they think I'm gay. I probably don't have to tell you that Kyle's jock friends don't hold me in high regard," He says, "I'm a hate crime magnet, if someone eggs my house, you have to clean it up."
I say, "Keep wishing."
"Can I have a M&M?"
"My chocolate."
"Share!"
"What color."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does."
"Umm..okay....red."
I hand him a red M&M and pull a green one out of the bag for myself, holding it up. "You know," I say, "It's scientifically proven that green M&M's make you horny."
He says, "Eat up."
"When did you become such a guy?"
"When you started talking about your underwear and horniness out of nowhere. Your head is in the gutter too, Parker."
"Just making polite conversation, Evans"
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
I say, "So lets go to some hotel and hump like rabbits."
"That's not what this is about and you know it."
"Well, what are we going to do? Hold hands all night?"
"Sounds good to me, we haven’t even kissed yet."
"How incredibly chaste of you."
"Fine," he says, "You wanna hump like rabbits? We'll hump like rabbits."
I say, "We've kissed."
"No Liz, we didn't kiss, I kissed, you just stood there." In his voice, I have to wonder if that's dissapointment. And the way he's gazing out the window, I have to wonder if he's reliving that moment.
I am.
I wonder if he can see this from my perspective. I told him he should wait for Tess and he apologized. He apologized for kissing me, and he wonders why I didn't kiss him back.
Your not supposed to kiss people when your confused like that. It isn't fair, he's not being fair to me.
I'm not being fair to him because I'm not telling him all of this.
I say, "It didn't feel right."
He doesn't look at me, just keeps gazing out the window and nods his head.
I say, "I was kidding about the rabbits."
"I know."
Another kind of lie is when you only tell half of the story. If I were to tell him the whole story, I would say that holding hands all night sounds good to me too. Instead, I joke about sex.
Rationalization: You're about to spend the night in a hotel room, alone, with the object of your obsession. The prospect of having sexual intercourse is one that causes much anxiety. so what do you do? You joke about it, pretend you don't care. That's what.
I could tell him all this. I should. But not here, a moving vehicle is a shotty place for resolution. Plus, there's nowhere to hide. Not me, mind you, but him, there's nowhere for him to hide. He might not like what I have to say, you know. And I have an awful lot to say.
I have an awful lot to change.
I say, "We're getting further away."
"From where?"
"From Roswell."
From safety, Max. Roswell is secrets and lies. Lies are safety. Truth is exposure. Truth is standing naked on a pedestal.
He thinks that this is what I want.
He think I actually know what I want.
He thinks he's saving me from Roswell, but he's saving me from myself.
Max says, "We have a long way to go."
He doesn't know how right he is.
He says, "You should go to sleep, It'll seem faster."
---------------------------------
In a car, your never really asleep. Your in limbo, the place between heaven and hell, the place between awake and asleep. Your teetering on all sorts of gaps and chasms and edges. Your eyes are closed, and you hear every song that comes on the radio, but your brain just isn't completely there. Every time you open your eyes you see the sun has gone down just a little bit more and you wonder how long your eyes have been closed. Every time you open your eyes, you see a desert, but the desert is always morphing into a different kind of desert.
You open your eyes and you see desert chaos. Rocks pointing accusingly to the sky. Canyons sinking guiltily into the ground. so many holes and corners and shadows for secrets to crawl under.
Even nature has something to hide.
On the radio, Jimmy Buffet is singing "Lets get drunk and screw."
Max says, "You awake? Do you hear this song? It's insane, they've played it three times in the past two hours."
I roll my neck to the side and try to say something. He grins at me and whispers, "Go back to sleep." He touches my hand. I wish that I wasn't half asleep so that I could feel it. He says, "Close your eyes."
Limbo. You keep opening your eyes and seeing desert confusion. You keep opening your eyes because you want to see what kind of desert you'll be in next. Deserts are like people, you know, or snowflakes, no two are the same. You open your eyes and you see fat deserts and skinny deserts, deserts with trees and deserts with mountains. Naked deserts. Deserts without buildings for miles and miles and some lined with gas stations.
Deserts with one little house in the middle of nowhere and you just know that the person that lives there is either dead or psycho. Deserts with fences that have bones hanging off of them, making you wonder what kind of sick people go looking for dead animal bones to hang on fences.
Bones, skeletons. Heaven help me, give me something beautiful to look at. You open your eyes and you see roadkill. You open your eyes and you see cows that will be sent to the slaughterhouse when their fat enough. Blood has been my best friend for the past two weeks, blood and Max Evans.
Show me a flower, Max. Show me your poppy field. I'm not a girly girl, I just want to see something alive and breathing.
You open your eyes and Johnny Cash is singing "Burning ring of fire." You wonder what the song is really about, anyway. Max wants to know if I have to go to the bathroom.
You open your eyes and Patsy Cline is singing "Crazy." You notice how late and dark it's getting. The desert has morphed once again, you can see this because of the moonlight. In the desert, the moon has nowhere to hide. The desert is completely flat, no cracks or crevices, no secrets or lies, completely exposed. This is the kind of fear you feel when you look at yourself in the mirror, mentally naked, emotionally naked.
Face your future, Liz Parker, save yourself from whatever. Let him help you, you helped him.
I used to have this theory: Why live in the world when you can live in your head.
I wanted to hate him so badly. I wanted to blame him for sending Roswell to hell in a handbasket. I never could, you know, because I never really hated Roswell. It was my safety, my haven, my exuse, my big fake problem.
And Max, he's not just some guy, not just some alien. I'm more of an alien than he is. There's something you can see in his eyes when he's not paying attention to anything. Something that tells you he can understand things, he might understand you. If he would just look you in the eye.
I never wanted him to know that I kept his secret, or that I almost died. I just wanted him to stop punishing himself, so much of him is wasted on punishing himself. I wanted him to be happy, with Tess if that's what it took. I would just stand one the sidelines and observe, live in my head.
But it doesn't work like that. I know that now because of stupid things like the skeleton exposed in my pocket and the exposed desert outside my window. The situation is defining itself. The exposed hotel in the middle of the exposed desert is my forum. This is where I show myself to him, stop lying to myself, fix myself.
This is where I realize that this, this - whatever this is, this is about me.
I thought that the climax of my life was a gun in my face.
And I couldn't have been more wrong.
------------------------------------
From the outside, the hotel is disgusting. Desert culture, deserts aren't places that you visit, the're places you pass through to get from one place to another. Specifially, desert culture means truck drivers. And not to put down truck drivers but the're not the cleanest people in the world. I can only imagine how lovely the room will be. It's ok though, I'm not a princess. If I can handle blood and bones then I can handle a little dirt.
Max pulls into the lot and lazily shifts the car into park. He's tired, so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. He's been driving for more hours than you can count on two hands.
I say, "I'm sorry I made you drive the whole way, I'll drive home."
He looks at me through his half closed eyes, "You don't know how to drive a stick shift."
"It's a sixteen hour drive, I'll learn."
"Sounds dangerous."
"Yea, but your danger-boy, you laugh in the face of danger."
"Good point."
The hotel room is my future, eyes on the prize, no pain, no gain. In situations like this, motivational cliches rule your mind. It's funny, you know, he thinks I 'like' him. I like him - yea right - like this is some schoolyard, chocolate box, puppy love type deal.
It's not. It's dirtier and darker and deeper than that.
This is the kind of thing they don't even make a word for because it's too scary to talk about.
I say, "So we should.....go get a room."
He says, "We? Your sleepin in the car, cootie girl, remember?"
If I wasn't holding all of this stuff inside I could be having fun right now.
He says, "Maybe if I'm feeling nice enough I'll bring you a blanket, knock if you need anything, I reserved room 318 at the last gas station." He crawls out of the car, "Got it?"
I smile weakly as he shuts the door. I stay here, staring at my shaking hands.
I'm crazy-psycho obsessed with you Max Evans. I don't know if guys like to hear this sort of thing.
My door opens and Max is pulling me out of the car with his arm around my waist. His palm is pressing against my stomach. How am I feeling?
He's touching my stomach, how the hell do you think I'm feeling.
He has no problem picking me up with one arm, he sets me down and puts his arm around my shoulders, we start walking to the lobby.
I say, "What about my cooties."
He says, "I got lonely. Anyway, girl cooties got nothing on alien blasting powers."
We pick up the key from the tired looking motel worker, poor guy. We make our way to the room. Two double beds.
He lays down on one of the beds, I'm still trying to get through the door.
Why? Because this is where I'm going to stop lying to him.
He says, "Come here."
I walk over and stand by the bed, the ugly room isn't registering in my head, nothing is.
I say, "We should talk."
He frowns at me, "Liz, talking sucks, we've been talking for the last fourteen hours."
"This isn't the kind of stuff you talk about in the car."
He looks at me. Me having a nervous breakdown and not hiding it very well. Me being very serious. He says, "What is it?"
I'm neurotic, that's what it is.
I say, "Do you want to know what I've been thinking about for the past couple of weeks."
"Of course."
"Do you want to know....what I think....about you."
The look on his face, he's begining to understand what this all means. He says, "Yea."
Am I broken.
He's seen me deal with blood and bruises. He's seen me next to a knife, he's seen me against the backdrop of a dying desert.
When things spin too fast - and I'm talking beyond out of control too fast - they break.
Maybe I look ok next to blood and bruses and ugliness, but after tonight, how will I look next to flowers, a field of them.
You have to be prepared for things like this. You have to be prepared for him not being able to handle the truth. Especially since you can barely handle it yourself.
And you've realized some things about yourself, like maybe a healthy life is worth living, and maybe you have a shred of worthiness. You know in your heart that you can be fixed if you just try. But this is the breaking point, you either get better or you don't.
When you clean your room, it has to get dirtier before it gets cleaner. You have to pull out all the shit that's under your bed and inside your closet. You pile dirty laundry on your bed, you find that half eaten sandwich that you meant to throw away. You purge the corners and hidden places, let it all hang out in the open. Then you decide what to work on first.
That's what this is like. What if he doesn't like what's under my bed. What if he doesn't want to see my cobwebs. What if he doesn't want to help me clean it up.
You have to be prepared for the worst case scenario, but it has to be realisitic.
It's different for me. I don't have one great big secret like him or Tess. I have a pile of little white lies. Enough little white lies and you go crazy, you forget what story you told which person. I have years of not telling the entire story. Right and wrong don't even make sense anymore. I am a lie.
I am half a story.
If I don't get this out now, I'll break.
I'll lose him, I might anyway. You have to be prepared.
You can't think about how you saw the understanding in his eyes. You can't think about how maybe he will understand and hold your hand all night and help you clean yourself up. Maybe he can heal that bruise on your cheek even though the physical evidence is almost gone, it doesn't matter, the hurt is still there. Maybe if he sleeps next to you, you won't see a gun in your face when you close your eyes.
Stop thinking about this.
I'm not even here.
"Liz," he says. He sits on the bed, he looks at you in sympathy, pity, like he already knows. "Tell me anything," he says it quietly, gently. He doesn't want to push you with his voice. He knows that touching you right now isn't going to help.
I'm not even here.
This is the last defense mechanism I'll use willingly. I don't even care what it's called, I just remember someone telling me it was adaptive.
I'm not even here. Am I?
It's just a girl, that loves a boy. And she's telling him the truth, to be fair, so that he can decide if he still loves her back.
Eyes down, easier for tears to slip out that way.
Clean it all up.
"I don't know how it started....I don't know where." It's a voice of dissociation, the voice you get when you can't look someone in the eye. It sounds monotone but if you listen hard enough you can sense the shakiness. "I wanted to hate you, I never did, but I wanted to, before I even knew you."
If you blink, a tear will fall out of your left eye.
Glance up and he's confused. "Liz....why...." he doesn't finish because he knows questions won't do any good.
"I wanted to blame you for my problems but I couldn't because I knew your secret, I don't know how I knew but I did. But I couldn't hate you because I saw how much you hated yourself, and then I saw you hit her, with your car. I saw your life falling apart. I saw you.....heal...her."
The tears go drip drip dripping down your face, one lands on your shoe, one lands on your sweater. Glance up and he doesn't want you to cry.
"Maybe I wanted that too....maybe I felt dead. But maybe I saw the way you looked at her and maybe I just wanted you to be happy. You kissed her...at the party...I didn't watch. It would have ended right there but you told me your secret, you..touched me, told me I was insane, I wanted to scream at you."
Glance up and the look on his face is guilt and shock. It was not my intention to make him feel bad. He touched my face that night. His palm was pressed against my nose, his thumb was touching my temple. The first time he touched me, I'll never forget that.
"I don't know...somewhere along the line it changed, you were my friend...you understood me, we had fun. I wanted you to stop hating yourself. So I...convinced myself that you should be with Tess and I...I got a little lost in my head."
Deep breaths, eyes down.
"Everything I've done in the past two weeks I've done for you. I made the car accident dissapear, I kept your secret. Not so that I could save Roswell, so that I could save you. Every action, every word I said....everything can be traced back to you."
Close your eyes, blink. Just let yourself cry. The truth is that he hurt you, whether he meant to or not. The truth is that it hurts. The truth is that you want to cry so you cry.
"And you could never....look me in the eye. What was so fucking horrible about me that you couldn't look me in the eye."
Glance up and his eyes blink shut and linger, his jaw is clenched. I don't want him to feel bad, I'm just telling the truth.
"Something happened to me, you left your jacket in the Crashdown and I was smelling it at five in the morning. We studied at your house and you caught me smelling your goddamn arm and you didn't smell bad, you smell...really good. When we went to the book signing...I was thinking about all these horrible things, I was trying so bad to hate you. I had dreams about you...I hated every second of what was happening to me."
Glance up and he's looking at you, wide eyes with shock, guilt etched on his face like he commited some sort of horrible crime.
"The pool..." I hear the voice and it's mine, it's shaking. It's naked and helpless and weak. It's a wonder he can still understand what I'm saying. My cheeks are uncomfortalbe, half drying half soaking wet, making my skin tight and confused. I want to be in the shower. I hate crying when I'm not in the shower. I want to be wet and warm and huddled into a ball crying.
"The pool is where I got hurt the most."
Glance up and he's sorry, he's so sorry. He's just breathing, he wants to say something but he doesn't know what to say.
I don't want him to be sorry. I'm the sorry one, I'm the one throwing all this at him at once.
"And all this, you have nothing to feel guilty about, you have nothing to apologize for. Because it's my fault, I let myself get hurt. Until we got to the pool, you didn't lead me on, not once. So it's my fault, because I could have left, but I didn't....because I wanted to be around you."
Think about repressed romantic feelings, take a step backward and sit down on the bed because standing isn't an option. And don't you wish your hands would stop shaking and don't you wish you could see through the tears.
"Because....Max.....you make me feel something...something wierd and scary.....like I want you to know who I am....Like I don't want to lie to you."
Are you hearing this. This is raw. This is like going through a meat grinder. You have to hurt more before you feel better. And maybe someday after this I'll thank myself, sow myself back up and be ok. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, next month.
It depends on him now. I'm exposed, all out in the open. He can either run away or fuck with my feelings or make it better. Either way, I want this to be over.
"Do you think this is healthy Max? I'm psycho-crazy-insane obsessed with you. Is this something you want to hear?"
Someday I'll feel better. Glance up and my world isn't the only one falling apart.
My voice is hiding nothing, my face is hiding nothing. When your exposed like this, even your body language can't lie. "You like me but do you want a neurotic girlfriend. Do you want somebody who doesn't even know who she is because she's made herself up a thousand times. Do you want to know all my secrets and do you want me to know yours."
You have to be prepared for this.
Funny how hard it is to be prepared when your completely exposed.
I'm crying like it's the end of the world. That's what it feels like. I'll feel better someday. Someday, I'll know this was healthy. But now, a life is ending.
Be prepared. If he runs, what the hell am I supposed to do.
"So that's what I wanted to say."
I stand up. Neurotic me. Naked, exposed me. I feel dirty.
"I'm taking a shower now."
Brutal honesty, get me out of here.
"If you want to leave, now would be the time."
So that I don't have to see it.
I walk, to the bathroom. Five steps.
He says, "Liz, come here."
I want to Max, I really really want to.
I say, "Shower."
He hesitates, I hear him shifting on the bed. Then, he sounds pissed. "What the hell am I supposed to do. You already made up your mind that I'm leaving. Give me credit Liz, if I'm so great then let me make up my own mind, if you really feel so strongly, why is it so easy for you to run."
"It's not....easy."
"Then get your ass over here....and tell me you want me to help you...and I will. I'll do anything....but I don't know what you want."
"I don't know what you want."
"I want you Liz. Yes, still. Your not neurotic, I have so much to say to you, but your the one running away right now."
"I'm still scared."
"I know."
"I can't move."
"Then what do you want me to do."
What do I want him to do. There's plenty I want him to do. Honesty.
Honesty.
I can do this.
Just close your mind. It's just a scared girl that doesn't know how to be happy and doesn't know what's best for herself. But in the back of her mind, in the deep, dark places that nobody has seen, she knows exactly what she wants.
"I want you to make me stay, and I want you to tell me how much you want me to stop running away. And I want you to help me. And I want you to promise to not forget about me for at least.....until I get better. I want you to tell me why it's so hard for you to look in my eyes but I'm still not sure...if I really want to hear that."
And he says, "Ok."
He gets up and he approaches me. And I don't even know what the hell is going on anymore.
He didn't run away, he wasn't scared.
I thought he would run away.
You never really prepare for the best case scenario.
You prepare for the worst, and when the best happens, you have no idea what the hell to do.
The look on his face, I don't even know what it is. Maybe he's as confused as I am.
He grabs my hand and pulls me over to the bed and he makes me sit down. He's on his knees on the floor in front of me.
He puts one of his hands on mine and the other one on my face, he says, "Look at me."
I don't.
I stare at his hand because it's touching mine and it's the warmest feeling I've ever had in my entire life.
He says, "I can sit here all night. Screw being scared Liz, aren't you sick of it?"
He says, "Look at me. I'm obsessed with you. I know you feel crazy because I've been there, I know it's hard to let go. You taught me how, don't you know that? You can't scare me, I want to know every little thought that's swimming in that head of yours. Every crazy, neurotic detail. And I will never ignore you again."
His hand is sweeping over my cheek and getting tangled in my hair. He pulls me forward so that our forheads are touching.
He says, "Never ever."
His voice, I could listen to it forever.
He says, "Liz Parker, for all that stuff you just said you sure don't act like you like me very much."
And thats just it, you know. This is my breaking point.
I, Liz Parker, am offically a first class grade A idiot.
What in gods name am I doing sitting here like a fucking noodle.
So I breath. And I say, "Sorry about that."
And I smile, it's kind of a weak smile but it still is a smile, and it's genuine, I figure he might like that.
He does, he smiles back.
His hand slides down to cup the back of my neck and he touches his nose to mine.
I look him in the eye. Liars know a lot of things about eyes, you know. It's the one part of the body that never lies, unless you train yourself.
In Max's eyes, it's kind of hard to look at, obsession and compultion and rawness. All right there.
The way he's looking at me, I could burst into flames and I wouldn't be surprized. The earth could swallow me whole, aliens could invade the world. Wait a second, scratch that.
He say in a whisper, "We need to talk, but I'm gonna kiss you right now and if you don't kiss me back this time I'm gonna have a hissy fit and it's gonna get really, really ugly."
His mouth is so close to mine, were breathing the same air.
And I get the kind of chill that runs up your neck and makes your insides shudder and warm up and - holy shit.
Maxwell mother freaking Evans, is going to kiss me.
I'm just closing my eyes.
I'm not prepared for this but screw being prepared, when the hell have I ever been prepared for anything, anyway.
Guns in my face, platonic-half-naked-second-base-kissing in pools. Never, I tell you. Preparation only works if you have a good sense of insight.
I don't want to but I think back to Tess and Courtney reading girly girl magazines on Friday nights, discussing the pros and cons of spit exchange and certain lip maneuvering tactics.
1)Lips soft and pliable, you know. Not too stiff and not to sloppy-passive. Okay.
2)Swallow. This decreases the wetness factor. If you can't find time to swallow, you damn well have to make time to swallow, alright?
3) And this is the big one. Never, ever, under any circumstances should you shove your tounge down his throat. Too offputting. Right.
Kissing has tactical maneuvers now, kind of like war. Nothing is sacred.
Okay, so I'm a little nervous.
I'm just closing my eyes.
Why isn't he kissing me yet.
I open my eyes and he's got this look.
What is this look.
Apprehension? Hesitation?
I say, "What's wrong?"
He just shakes his head. What is this look.
His thumb moves across my cheek and I think about blood and snot and tears mixed with relish and take out chinese food.
I've felt this before, when I sleep and turn over and my cheek presses up against my pillow. Ever since that day, push on my cheek and I see a gun in my face. Push on my cheek and I see a hole in a refridgerator with blood and ketchup leaking out of it.
Push on my cheek and I see an ice machine that's broken because of the bullet lodged in the back corner.
I guess you never really get over almost dying.
It's even harder when your face is a constant reminder.
I wonder if there is some sort of alien ettiquette guidebook. Is it improper to ask him to heal my cheek.
I'm thinking: fuck proper, it hurts.
His thumb moves across my cheek again and I'm cringing now.
"It still hurts?" He asks.
"A little."
He says, "Oh."
What is that goddamn look.
I say, "So?"
"So what."
"So can you heal it?"
His eyes fly down and I'm wondering what the hell is going on.
He says, "I could."
"Well you don't have to."
"I will."
What is this. First base to zero in 3.5 seconds.
He doesn't want to heal me.
Ask me how I'm feeling.
"You don't want to."
"Liz, I do."
"No you don't."
He puts his hand on my cheek and no way, I'm not convinced. I get up and walk to the other side of the room.
"Liz."
"Why don't you want to heal me."
"I do."
He's lying, I can see this. It's the eyes.
If I was in a cartoon, there would be a big obnoxious lightbulb flashing above my head.
I say, "You don't want to be an alien anymore."
He says, "I'm tired."
"You want me to pretend your not an alien."
"Can we please just go to sleep."
I know exactly what he's doing because this is something I would pull.
He kicks off his shoes and pulls back the covers. He looks pissed. At who? I'm not sure. Pissed at the world maybe.
I say, "We should probably talk about this."
He says, "I'm tired."
"Go to sleep then." I say this with my hand on the doorknob.
"I will, where are you going?"
If I could lie to him, I would just tell him I'm going to get a soda.
I say, "I need to think, I'll be back in a second."
"Liz."
"I've been sleeping all day and now I want to think so just let me go think."
He's not even looking at me anymore.
He says, "It's not safe."
"Nothing is safe."
He gives me this look and gets into bed.
I'm honesty girl, so I say, "Who's running away from their problems now."
He says, "I'm tired."
So I go.
I walk outside into the cold air and look at this ugly place we're staying.
And everything is just getting a little too surreal.
I'm just feeling a little too detached from everything and rightfully so, emotional spicket that I am. Now that my life is the epitome of all that is true, I'm just trying not to make myself up again.
Don't worry, I'm not regressing or anything. I know exactly what's going on. It's his turn to talk and he'll talk when he's ready. but me, I need a little down time, a little keep my mouth shut time. I need to go somewhere and try not to feel anything.
You could say that I'm emotionally drained.
I'm just sitting here getting worse before I can get better.
I thought that the climax of my life was a gun in my face or a bottle pointing at me or my emotional meltdown or take your pick. But maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Maybe life doesn't have one solitary, identifiable climax. It's like every day is build up-build up-orgasm.
Build up-build up-orgasm.
Only, not as fun.
Call me selfish but this isn't what I need right now. He didn't give me enough time to recuperate.
Ugliness surrounds me. The hotel walls are stained, probobly from people pissing on them. Too much of this and you don't recognize beauty when you see it.
Whatever, I'm going to go swimming now and relive some bad memories.
The pool is surrounded by a locked gate. It's only open until nine but I can't seem to care all that much. I climb over the gate and of course I cut my arm on a snag on top of the chain link fence.
Blood, what a surprize.
The pool lights are on. They do this at hotels, keep the pool lights on all night.
I strip down to my less than sexy underwear and get into the pool. It's heated, I wish it was cold.
I wish it was freezing.
I swim to the edge of the pool and pull myself up to sit on the side, dangling my feet in the water.
Detached is what I am. Detached from my past and my future and everything. My feet aren't even touching the ground.
The cut on the inside of my arm is leaking blood all over the place, it's one of those cuts that looks worse than it actually is.
I really am a sight right now, half naked and bleeding all over myself.
Believe me, it's funnier than it sounds.
Ugliness still surrounds me and I look at myself and think about that stupid cliche: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
I'll feel better tomorrow.
Right now, I'm not sure what this is. I don't feel good and I don't feel bad.
Maybe this is a coping mechanism.
Don't even get me started on coping mechanisms.
Maybe this is a cry for help.
Help with what? I'm not sure. I just wanted him to heal me.
But he wants to pretend he's someone that he's not so I guess this is my problem. I know I know I know that I'm not being very understanding, It's just that I need to heal myself since he won't do it.
Tomorrow I'll be understanding, tonight I wallow in detachment.
The blood is trickeling down my side.
The way I figure it, I'll bleed to death in about three weeks, so this should be fun.
The minutes tick by.
Two weeks, 6 days, 11 hours, and 53 minutes to go.
And of course Max shows up. I mean, what did I expect.
He peeks through the gate and he says, "What are you doing?"
Me, I can't think of anything better to say, so I say, "Coping."
He opens the gate with his alien powers. The gate is more worthy than I am.
He walks up to me and sees my nice little bloody mess. "Liz what happened?"
"Ask me in three weeks."
The blood is freaking him out. He's trying to avert his eyes 'cause I'm half naked. It's sweet but right now I could give a shit.
Physical nakedness has got nothing on emotional nakedness.
I just want him to touch me again.
He sits down next to me and lifts up my arm.
He looks so tortured.
I say, "It's not that bad."
"It's bad enough."
"Well your not healing it until you talk."
And he just sits here looking tortured.
I say, "We'll talk tomorrow, It should be ok for another three weeks."
I say, "Come swimming."
I say this because I want him touching me and kissing me already and I don't know, maybe I'm resorting to seduction.
He says, "I need to tell you something."
"Right now?"
"I think so."
I can tell he doesn't want to talk right now.
I say, "We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yea, tomorrow."
"But your mad."
"Do I look mad."
He looks at me and bad idea 'cause I'm half naked.
He swallows and he says, "No."
I'm sitting here thinking: Max Evans wants me.
So kiss me already.
I say, "We're swimming now."
I slide into the water.
He takes of his shirt and he says, "How long have you been out here like this?"
"Couple minutes."
He takes off his pants and he says, "Try not to think about how many guys are looking out their window getting their rocks off at naked pool girl."
"I was trying."
He gets in the pool.
And that's when it kind of hits us both. It's like, boom, we're in a pool half naked together.
Again.
He says, "Deja vu."
I say, "Freaky."
My arm goes: bleed
And we're just looking at each other.
He wipes some of the blood of my arm.
"Does it hurt?"
"I'm over it."
And the pool lights on, so I can see everything, pretty much. I can see that he's perfect, just like I thought.
But I just want him touching me. I just want him holding my hand and waiting for me to go to sleep.
He takes a step closer.
I just want him healing me but i'll take what I can get.
He holds out his hand.
I just want to be telling him to not be afraid of who he is, but I want him touching me so I'll take what I can get.
I take his hand and he pulls me into him and wraps his arms around my waist. And I wrap mine around his neck.
This is the kind of heart falling feeling you get when something good is happening. Something you need.
Everything is different now because I'm pretty sure this is what he wants and I don't have to be anywhere else. I can finally forget about everything.
I'm just closing my eyes and breathing.
Then he kisses me. And his lips are so warm that I forget about my arm and my cheek.
I forget about blood and abusive fathers and Tess.
He's kissing my chin and moving down to my neck.
I forget about the place we're staying cause his breath is so warm and he's being so soft that I can forget.
His fingers are in my hair and his other hand is moving down my leg. Not even water is getting between us.
I look up and there's something about the sky. Something different. Like we're not even here, like he's driving it all away.
We're not even here. It's not just me this time, he's coming with me.
He's grabbing my thigh and pulling it up the side of his leg.
I'm just closing my eyes and breathing.
He's kissing me again, slowely. He's pressing me against the side of the pool.
This is too much for both of us. This is sensory overload.
Our lips are still touching but I don't know if this counts as kissing.
We're just breathing. We're just closing our eyes and breathing each other's air.
The air he breaths is different than the air I breath. It's got a kind of life to it, an electricity. I can feel it in the back of my throat.
This is real.
This is really happening.
There's a slight shift in the air as he moves. I open my eyes and he's looking at my arm and he's looking tortured again.
He's touching my arm and he's whispering, "I'm not handling this very well."
"Handling what?"
"If I heal you, you'll see things."
"So."
"So I need to tell you something first."
"Is it bad?"
"I don't know, it might be bad, it might be good, it's up to you."
"Tell me anything."
He takes a deep shaky breath and he says, "Maybe your not the only one who's so good at lying."
"What do you mean?"
"You know my secret Liz, you know my big secret. But I have others." He says, "Maybe your not the crazy one, after all."
What we are is this mixture. This Max and Liz blended frappe drink. A smoothie, whatever. This blended mixture of arms and skin and blood and tears and wet underwear and legs and detachment and fear and lies.
He doesn't want to let me go.
We're mixed together in this pool, and we sit here drinking each other's air because he doesn't want to let go.
I don't want him to let go either but he has to, because this isn't real yet.
This isn't real yet because I don't know him yet.
I'm talking to deitys because this isn't real yet. I'm not sure I believe in anyone but I'm talking to deitys anyway, just in case.
I'm saying: Buddha, It can't be that bad, can it?
And I can't look into his eyes and he can't look into mine because we both know it can be that bad.
I'm saying: God, make me love whatever he has to say, no matter what it is.
So we're drinking each others air. He doesn't want to let me go and then he's gone to go get me a towel.
I can understand that. I couldn't tell him in a car, he can't tell me in a pool.
Cars and pools are shotty places for resolution. Plus there's nowhere for us to run.
I'm saying: Venus, show me something beautiful.
I'm saying: Death, make up your fucking mind.
I'm saying: Somebody, anybody, give me a fucking break for a change.
The gods are stirring around in the heavens and with my luck, I'm making everything worse. Who does that girl think she is, talking to us like that? Make that wound bleed a little bit more.
Make that head spin a little bit more.
I don't know what he could possibly tell me. I'm not even going to try to prepare, it would just be the wrong kind of preparation anyway.
What hurts the most is that this whole time I thought I knew him.
And I wonder what it could do to us. He couldn't make me stop loving him, but he could scare me.
He could make me afraid of him.
I'm sick of crying.
I want to stop crying now.
I'm sick of bleeding.
He pulls me out of the pool and wraps me up in this towel and I bet it's a bitch to get blood off of white towels.
We walk to the hotel room, clothes in hand, him after me, eyes to the floor, like a funeral procession.
I try to turn around and look in his eye but he doesn't let me, but I can still see whats in them. Doom. Fear. I can see that he never meant to tell me this in the first place.
He was just going to let it go, live on with some secret tearing him apart and me sitting there thinking this was real.
We get to the hotel room and I'm regressing now. I don't want to know. I don't care if this isn't real. I know him enough.
We can pretend, we're good at that.
Three weeks and I'm dead, but that's not completely true. Blood coagulates, wounds close up. They close up and you can still remember what happened but you can pretend it was never there.
We can just pretend this never happened.
Hope there's no scar.
He dries his boxers with his alien powers and his boxers are more worthy than I am.
I'm saying: Little Lizzy Parker, poor you.
He puts on his pants and sits down on the bed and next thing is he's got this bloody, crying, me all over him.
I'm resorting to seduction and I am in no shape to seduce, but I'll try it anyway.
He's got this bloody, crying me attacking his mouth and who even knows what my hands are doing. Bloody, crying me messing with the buttons on his pants and pushing him back onto the bed.
He grabs my wrists and my life isn't the only one that's falling apart.
His eyes are scaring me. He's afraid so I'm afraid.
He pulls me closer and he's hugging me to him and he says, "I have to tell you Liz, I have to."
Bloody, crying me, shaking my head.
His eyes change to hoplessness. Bloody, crying me is not helping the situation. I can sense something, if he doesn't tell me then he can't be with me, it wouldn't be fair.
I can understand that.
I had to tell him before I could be with him.
I say, "What will I see Max, what will I see if you heal me."
He says, "Guilt."
We're this Max and Liz blended frappe drink on the bed. Bloody, crying me mixed with guilty, life-falling-apart Max.
I'm saying: Tragedy, go away.
I'm saying: Romeo and Juliet, die already.
He's petting my hair and breathing and kissing my forhead. He's kissing my forhead like it's the last time before I run away.
His eyes drop down and this means get prepared if you have a good sense of insight. If you don't, then your shit out of luck.
I don't, so I am.
His eyes drop down and he's petting my hair and he says, "I had a dream about us Liz, we were at the poppy field, we were sleeping."
His hands are running over my arms and smearing blood all over the place. Blood is supposed to coagulate but it's not coagulating, the wounds not closing up.
I'm saying: Biology, don't fail me now.
"When?" I ask.
"The night of the party."
This isn't such a surprize until he says, "The first party."
His hands are on the side of my stomach and he's frowning, smearing blood all over the place, saying, "Your a mess."
He's cleaning me up now, alien powers.
I say, "So did you know we'd come here?"
He shakes his head, "It was just a dream, I just wanted to take you here."
"So what does that mean?"
He closes his eyes and breaths, saying, "It means I'm a good liar. It means how could I ignore you after that, how could I not love you after that."
Me, I'm sitting here saying: First party, this doesn't make sense.
He says, "You know about dreams Liz, I wanted you and I couldn't lie to myself about it, I couldn't even try."
He says, "It means I'm a good liar, it means that I didn't want you to know so you didn't know."
He says, "It means that I wanted you to think I didn't notice you so I made you think I didn't notice you."
He says, "I'm just as obsessed Liz, if not more."
And what is gods name is he talking about.
I'm saying: First party, this doesn't make any sense. Best buddies is what we were after that night. Best buddies and he still couldn't look me in the eye and he still saved that smile for Tess and he still went out on dates and gazed at her with that look and he wasn't fucking in love with me.
I still havn't stopped crying yet and I'm shaking my head saying, "Your getting your parties mixed up."
"No I'm not Liz," And he kisses me, this tortured mixed up kiss, like the last one before I run away. He says, "You thought I didn't notice you even when we were friends. I was hanging on your every word, Liz Parker. Every second I had with you......"
"What are you talking about."
"We we're friends. That was my first mistake....I couldn't not be around you...." He's dropping his eyes and petting my hair and breathing and there is so much going on inside of him right now. So much that I don't know.
He thinks that I don't want to know this.
"But I couldn't look you in the eye.....then it would be over. You thought I never looked at your eyes but every second you were looking away I was looking at your eyes."
He's falling apart and saying, "Every second..."
I'm just shaking my head because I don't understand what I'm supposed to be understanding.
I say, "You didn't want me to know?"
His eyes go scary. He looks up and maybe on the inside he's talking to deitys. He says, "Do you know how hard it was, pretending not to care. I was good at it though."
He's letting go of my hands, he's detaching himself.
I say, "Tess."
"Tess. I went on dates with Tess and we talked about you and Kyle the whole time. She never even asked why I pretended to like her in front of you, she was too far gone, she didn't care."
He leans back, detaching himself and even his eyes are going distant. He says, "You told Dr. Amos that if you found out who the aliens are, you would have them publicly burned at the stake."
I thought I was out of tears but I was wrong. Did I do this to myself?
He says, "I found out that you liked me and you hated me in the same night."
The tears go drip drip dripping on everything. I don't want him detaching so I'm leaning forward with my hands on his arms and I'm pleading because I did this to myself. He ignored me because of something I don't even remember saying. I'm begging, "Max I never hated you I just said things...I said...I said I was a snail in my past life....I told him that I fought in Nam....It was before I knew you..."
He's petting my hair and his thumb is on my lips. His body language is telling me to calm down but his eyes are so wet with tears that won't come out, the're saying that he's gone, he's detached. He's somewhere else.
He's not even here.
He says, "Aliens fucked up your life Liz. I fucked up your life, I'm the reason you lie so much."
And I'm clutching onto him now, crying harder than I ever have before because once again I'm the guilty party and he's taking all the blame and I'm just saying, "No.....no."
And he's gone now, not even trying to comfort me because he's not even here. He says, "Roswell got fucked up by aliens and ruined your life. Roswell made you have all these problems."
I'm pleading, "Roswell, Max. Not aliens, Roswell has so many secrets and lies and rumors because it's a fucked up place and I couldn't handle it....."
He inturrupts me with something in his voice, with contempt in his voice, he says, "Secrets, whoever found that cave and started all those true rumors screwed up your life, is that what your saying?"
And I don't even know what he's asking and I'm saying "I..I guess, Max...It just wasn't you...you didn't do anything."
I'm touching his arms and his face and he's just pushing me away, and there's this sort of closure in his voice when he speaks next, like we're nearing the end, like this is where I run away.
He says, "Nobody found the cave Liz."
He says, "I started the rumors, me and Isabel and Michael."
I sit.
I sit and not think about anything because I can't think about anything.
He gets up and walks to the other side of the room because this is him running away and not me.
He says, "We took the first group of people there, we pretended that we found it, we fucked up Roswell and everyone in it, we made everyone hate each other."
"Guilt, Liz. Now you know why I hate myself. Now you know."
----------------------------
Seventh grade.
Six years ago.
Six years ago three kids go into this chamber, this place they call home, and they have this plan.
This plan is to start this rumor.
You wonder why at first but you have to think back. Think back and wonder what they were like, what do you remember about them.
Then you realize why they did it. Because you don't remember them at all. You don't remember where they ate at lunch and you don't remember if they were in any of your classes.
They might as well have not existed.
These three kids that hid in corners and lived in their heads and they thought they were helping themselves out.
These three kids that were alienated from everyone and no one noticed they had a problem.
What kind of town was it that didn't notice these three kids.
Seventh grade, maybe the town wasn't as great as you remembered it to be in the first place.
Or maybe the town never had anything to do with it.
Seventh grade, they were so young.
I was young too. I was this kid, this kid living in the world. I should have been happy, but something was off.
Maybe it was bad timing, puberty, who knows, I don't even remember anymore.
Seventh grade I started living in my head.
Seventh grade I started having these problems, I was this depressed kid, and everyone wanted to know why.
So did I.
Two months later these three kids carry out this plan.
They started these rumors.
This is the kicker: nobody cared.
Nobody cared until I got a hold of this rumor.
I milked it for all it was worth. I latched onto it for life. I spread it wherever I could. I was the first one to accuse, I was the one that made everybody care.
I was the one that made everybody hate each other.
I was the catalyst, if it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened.
People wanted to know what was wrong with me, I wanted to know what was wrong with me. So with the help of these three kids that I didn't know, I found this problem. I manufactured it. I made it mine. I made it what was wrong with me.
I have this problem, this problem with lying. I have this problem where I don't know who I am.
The biggest lie I ever told was one I told to myself. I convinced myself that aliens were my problem. I made myself forget about the manufacturing.
I never wanted to believe that my problem was self-caused.
I never wanted to believe that maybe there was something inside me that was just....off.
I never was one for taking responsibility.
Until now.
Because right now the only thing I know is that I don't care what's wrong with me. Because I know that I can be healed, and I know who can heal me.
And I know that if there is always going to be something wrong with me, there's a certain person that won't care.
You see, there's this person that I can't lie to, that can't lie to me.
There's this person that thinks he screwed me up when he really made me better.
This person was in love with me longer than I thought, this person noticed me.
This person was crying for help for so long and nobody noticed, this person noticed my cry for help.
We did these really horrible things when we were young. We've been carrying these things around, lying to ourselves all this time.
Both of us, we did this to ourselves because we did these things when we didn't know any better and we lived with it for so long. We created our own guilty lives, we made our own heads spin, together.
And together, we can make it stop.
My eyes are closed and my brain is working. I open my eyes and I see things.
I'm seeing things differently.
One might call this an epiphany.
Bloody, crying me is looking awfully ridicuoulous, sitting here in my underwear.
Max is faced away from me, just waiting for me to run away. Head down, eyes to the floor.
No way in hell i'm running now.
His voice is so quiet and I barely hear it, he's talking to his chest, saying, "I'll take you home if you want, or I could call a cab for you...I'll pay."
I say, "No."
I say, "I'm still bleeding."
He turns around relunctantly and if he would just look at me he would see something, he would see me having an epiphany, but he's not looking and that's ok.
He sits next to me, sitting there hating himself, he says, "What do we do now."
I say, "I'll die in three weeks if you don't heal me."
"That's it?" he says, "I heal you and it's over."
I grab his hand and put it against my cheek. It sucks when your having an epiphany and the person sitting next to you is not.
I say, "Heal me and find out."
Connection.
How do I explain a connection like this.
It's harder than you think.
This is exposure to the umpteenth degree.
A connection is neurosurgery. A cut on the scalp and a drill through some bone and there's your brain, all opened up for anyone to see. Every detail. Dendrites to neurotransmitters, across synapses, to the soma, down the axon to the dendrite terminals and over and over and over.
Inside, Max is laughing at my biology centered thoughts. I know this because of the flash.
I also know that he calls them flashes because of the flash.
These little fleshy colored brain cells are showing me everything he's ever known, because of the flash.
It's not just about what's under his bed or in his closet. I'ts not just about dirty laundry piled up on the bed.
It's deeper than that.
It's the little crumbs stuck between the carpet fibers, the ones that you never even knew were there, the ones even a vacume can't reach. It's the way your bedspread fades under the sun, each little bedspread cell losing it's color and you don't even notice because it happens so slowely.
Max thinks that this is a very good analogy.
I know this because of the flash.
Expose yourself as much as you can. Go as far as you can go. Physically, emotionally, mentally, get all around naked. Expose yourself until you think you couldn't possibly expose yourself any more.
Then expose yourself more.
That's what this is like.
And this is just the beginning, it hasn't barely even started yet.
Guess what, I know this because of the flash.
It's hard to explain in words because it's not really a verbally centered thing.
You hear some words, you see some pictures, you feel some emotions. But mostly, it's energy. This pure energy telling you things, giving you information in a way that you never knew existed. Like some sort of sixth sense.
This energy is telling you memories. The oldest memories are dusty, faded.
And it's intense.
It takes your whole body apart. You feel it in your insides.
I'm feeling his guilt inside my bones.
Start from the beginning and I'm seeing stars exploding. Space debris flinging to all corners of the universe. Nebulas and galaxies and planets spinning and floating and twirling around each other. But it's fuzzy, it's not completely there, it's like an idea, like a badly made, black and white, space movie.
I'm seeing the adoption process. A little boy and girl hiding in the corners, waiting for the paperwork to be over. Holding hands because they only have each other. I'm feeling Max's fear. I'm feeling his fear but I see him being strong for his sister.
This little boy is thinking that this is what all little kids go through. This little boy is telling himself to ignore the fear because this is normal.
He's so small, and he's telling his sister that little kids are born in the desert, because this is his only explanation.
I'm feeling the first time he felt ok. He's standing in this distorted field of orange flowers. The flowers are moving and swaying, up and down and all round, doing things that flowers don't usually do, like something out of a surreal painting. His parents are there, and his sister with her new jean jacket with pink rhinstones. He sees blurry edges, that kind of not-all-there feeling you have when you try to think of your earliest memories.
He wants to take me to this poppy field because he remembers that in the poppy field, everything is ok.
I'm seeing him realize that little kids aren't born in deserts. Adoption agencies checking up on him and prodding him for memories. They want to know how he got into that desert, somebody did a bad thing, abandoning their kids like that. And they need to be prosecuted, so he needs to remember more.
I'm seeing him realize that he was abandoned.
I'm seeing him realize that not all little kids can heal.
But he loves his new parents and everything will be ok, they tell him that everything will be ok.
One time he heals this bird and his mother starts looking at him differently. No less loving, just differently.
Because that's just what he is, he's different.
I'm seeing his first day of school. His sense of completion when he finds Michael. His terrifying realization that he's more different than he thought.
He's an alien.
And there's nothing more different than an alien.
He's this little kid and he's hearing people say that illegal aliens should be exported.
These three little kids are miserable and their parents don't know what to do because these kids barely talk anymore.
These kids don't talk to anybody anymore because they can't be noticed. If the're noticed then people will realize just how different that they are. They'll be exported.
They don't want to be abandoned again.
They grow up a little bit more and they feel more and more miserable every day. There's this sort of egocentrism that goes along with being an adolescent.
They don't want to be the only ones that suffer.
Their misery is so bad that they want to push it off onto other people, these people around them that the're starting to hate.
They don't want to hate these people but they do. They don't want to be noticed because it's dangerous, they tell themselves that all they need is each other and they convince themselves of this.
But deep down, they just want to be normal.
So they form this plan.
They can never be human, so they make this plan.
This plan is to make everyone else the alien. Make all these people they hate feel how they do.
Seventh grade, they were so young.
I'm trying to tell Max that I understand but then the pictures stop, the fragments of conversations stop.
And there's this rumble of energy.
A rumble of doom, you just know what's coming is bad.
Guilt, like some stampede of animals coming from far away, my insides are shaking. My bones are shaking.
And then everything stops and there's just Max healing me on a bed.
I'm a wreck, I was a wreck anyway but I'm more of a wreck now. You can't control yourself when your having these connection things and his hand is on my wet cheek.
He's giving me this concerned, guilty look. I don't know what he saw.
We're both breathing heavily.
I'm feeling this compulsion.
Me, with my weak voice, I say, "More."
I almost know him, completely.
His hand slides from my cheek, down my arm.
It starts again.
He wants more too.
Me and Max, the only way it's going to work for us is if we know each other like this. We can't be with perfect people, we need people that make mistakes, we have to be normal to each other.
There has to be nothing left to pretend about or to lie about.
This is the hard part, because the darkness is coming. I see shadows, the dark chambers inside his mind, dank and dripping wet with guilt. He repented immediatly but there was nothing he could do to take it back. I hear this quiet whispering. The only thing he can do is hate himself.
I see him giving himself what he thinks he deserves.
Teen queen Tess. He walks through the halls at school and he doesn't give a shit about anything but hating himself. He has no hope and behind this stoic demeanor is hate. Teen queen Tess. They having nothing in common, they have so much not in common that calling them opposites would still be saying they have more in commen than they do.
Teen queen Tess, they have nothing in common, nothing except that they both hate Max Evans.
Good enough for him, he needs a little torture. She's perfect, he's not, he forms a little unhealthy preoccupation.
But something happens, teen queen Tess isn't as perfect as she looks, all of the sudden she doesn't hate him anymore, she wants to be his friend.
Enter me out of nowhere. Zero to lab partners in 3.5 seconds. He never noticed me because I didn't want to be noticed. But this one day, he had to.
He has this dream.
Enter me and I'm shaking up his perfect little world of guilt. What I am is not perfect, but what I am is perfect for him. I give him this feeling that he shouldn't be having and he wants me to go away and he wants me to stay with him.
Hence, we become best buddies. We continue to live in our respective heads.
I'm shaking up his world because he finally met someone as crazy as he was. Someone that might understand. Someone that might make him feel good but he doesn't deserve to feel good. Someone that he might understand.
He finds out that I like him and I hate him in the same night. He finds out that I know his secret and the guilt is at full force.
I see him thinking he screwed up my life, him thinking that if I knew he spread the rumor I would hate him even more.
He has this deep dark secret that he could never tell me. That no one could ever understand. He doesn't want me to like him anymore because I would just end up getting hurt. So he hurts me, he figures he should just hurt me a little because it will be less hurt in the long run. He talks about Tess's eyes and he hurts me.
He's killing himself with guilt.
I hear fragments of conversations. He's talking about me to Tess, the're becoming friends. She's giving him these romantic pointers, she's telling him that he's worthy. She's telling him we'd be a good couple because we're both whako. He's never had a friend like Tess before and she's starting to convince him.
Their such good friends and she drops this bomb on him. She was using him at first, but then they became friends. She's glad they became friends but she still feels bad, oh, and by the way, will he help her kill someone?
I see this pool and he's slipping up. He's got himself in this position where I'm half naked and he's half naked he's losing his control.
Then I just feel this confusion. Pure confusion. I saved him and then I'm leaving town. I spend a weekend doing nothing and he spends the weekend talking to Tess about what he should do.
The party, spin the bottle. Tess suggested this because she's a sucker for romantic surprizes and he doesn't think he'd know romantic if he ran into it with his car.
Which is just stupid, in my opinion.
He can't let me leave town. At least not without telling me how he feels. And he's still confused. He doesn't know if he's worthy or not but he'll have to try because if he doesn't it would kill him more than the guilt.
I see him looking into my eyes and I see myself. It's just me, it's not this hyped up, ultra version of me. It's just me in all my neurotic glory.
Me sitting on this couch saying I'm not playing and trying to be this megabitch and he's seeing right through me.
Me, sitting there, nerotic, with all my unperfectness and I'm perfect for him. And he loves every unperfect-but-perfect detail about me.
To him, I'm beautiful just the way I am. He's not seeing things that aren't there. Just me and I'm beautiful.
He loves how I make fun of his ears. He thinks that my mean streak is sexy.
He loves how I gravitate towards pools in my underwear.
He's looking in my eyes and it's over.
He wants to see me exposed. He wants to know every thought that I think, he wants to know every emotion that I feel. He wants to know what I smell like and what my skin feels like. He got some of this in the pool but he didn't get enough, because I wasn't really there.
Max Evans wants me.
He thinks I'm this great big mystery. Not the kind that you don't want to figure out, the kind that you do. The kind that you'll die if you don't figure out.
And my insides are shaking.
I want him to figure me out.
We want to be the only people that know each other, that really, intensly, deeply, know each other.
We're obsessed with each other.
And now it's just all a blur. An intense blur. These fragments of conversations and visions and feelings are converging and twisting and turning.
And then everything goes quiet. Like this beautiful quiet after this release.
The only sound is us breathing.
We just breath, just sit here and breath in the quiet. His hand is on my arm, I can feel this. Every part of my skin that he's touching is pulsating.
My eyes open slowely and we're both in this stupor.
It's still so intense, intensity making every part of my body feel like it's weeping for something, for him.
I don't even know how I'm worthy of this. Girls like me don't fall this hard.
Max sits there motionless, only his eyes moving. He's peering at me with this mixture of relief and apprehension. His hand hasn't moved.
I close my eyes and my breath is catching. I'm this shaky mess and I can barely breath.
His hand moves, sliding slowely down my arm. We both just sit here and watch his hand slide down my arm, trying to breath.
His fingers hover around my wrist, lingering there before he retreats his hand and places it on his lap.
We're both so tired now. He's awake but I can tell he's not completely here.
I say, "Um...wanna.......go.....to bed."
He just looks at me for a second. Then he grabs my hand and he's pulling me next to him.
I'm glad he did this.
We're holding each other now. And this is finally real.
His eyes are lined with red. He says, "Yea."
We get into bed and he's on his side facing me. Touching my hair and arms. His fingers are tracing the line on my arm where the wound was and I'm closing my eyes.
He touches my cheek and he whispers to me, "I saw you almost die, I should have been there Liz."
"It's over now."
He says, "Do I deserve this."
"You deserve everything."
"So do you."
He leans down and rests his head next to mine, grabbing my hand.
He says, "I did some bad things."
"We both did.....we'll make it better."
"How?"
"We just will.....we'll think of something."
"Stay in Roswell Liz."
"I will."
He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Wait for me to graduate and I'll take you anywhere."
I'm smiling in the dark. Biting my lips and feeling his breath against my skin.
I say, "Night Max."
He squeezes my hand and nuzzles his cheek against mine.
"Night Liz."
I think it was a member of the Brady Bunch, maybe Greg, that said this, he said: Wherever you go, there you are.
Well, we went, and here I am.
It was me that said this: There's plenty of places like home.
Well, there is, and I just found one of them.
A town in the middle of the desert. They call it a suburb of some big city where things happen, but this big city, you can't get there unless you drive from middle of nowhere to middle of somewhere.
It takes about an hour to get from middle of nowhere to middle of somewhere.
Kind of like Roswell.
We drove into town first, to get something to eat before we go to places where everything is ok.
Compared to this place, Roswell is heaven on earth.
Chain stores, row upon row of chain stores. Shopping malls, mini malls, stretch malls, outdoor malls, consumers on every corner. Suburban paradises undergoing forclosure. Graph paper streets, an idiot couldn't get lost here. We just found the city with no past, no future, only a present.
This city with only a present, we came here, so here we are.
This city, we're leaving, so there we go.
This city surrounded by dying, brown, deserts. Like Roswell, except for the breeze. It has a breeze that blows tumbleweeds the size of cars into the roads. Flat deserts. At one point I thought deserts like this, places like this, have no secrets to hide, have no places for lies to crawl under. Everything is just so naked, even the people are exposed.
I was wrong.
There's this corner. This hidden place that nobody knows about, where a secret is hidden.
And not all secrets are bad.
Some good secrets stay hidden because your not looking hard enough, because realizing there is something good about this place would make you face that there is something good behind every guilty liar.
Do you want me to make this easier for you?
This city, it has it's secrets. It has a lot of bad secrets, but it has this good one, this hidden poppy field.
Me and Max, we have our secrets. We have a lot of bad secrets, but we have this good one, there's something about us that keeps us alive, keeps us breathing, something beautiful. There's something about us that the guilt never let us see.
Understood?
We drive.
Clues to this hidden place sprinkle the sides of the road. There's this point, behind this hill, you could miss it if you don't turn your head. You could drive right past it thinking you know everything about this place.
Maybe this is another thing about us. We learned how to look for things like this, because we were looking for things like this in each other.
So we turn our heads, because we're looking, we're breathing, we're aware, and we see it.
The poppy field, the orange sea of hills, alive and breathing beauty. It's almost like an explosion, a deep breath.
And I go: hachoo
-------------------------------------
"Hello you big, manly alien."
"Well hello there, pretty lil' lady, that's a nice....rib cage...you've got there."
"Max, you are so disturbing."
"SHHH...the're putting on a play for you."
I go: hachoo
Max says, "Gross....you got girl cooties on me."
I say, "You love it."
"Yea well, Shall I continue?"
"Yea, you know, take away all their innocence, corrupt them completely."
"Shhhh."
I go: hachoo
The setting, this is where I tell you what I see.
Well, look left and right and I see orange. Look down and I see my feet. Look up and I see Max. Look straight ahead, and I see the sky, a little alien and skeleton dancing in front of it.
I'm laying down, head in his lap. He's putting on a little play for me. His fingers are pressed against the little toys heads, making them bob up and down every time they talk.
Max says, "Where was I.....oh yea..."
He contorts his voice into this really high pitched girly sound, "Well hello you big, manly alien."
His voice goes deep again and the little alien's head bobs up and down, "Hello pretty lil' lady, that's a nice rib cage you've uhh....got there."
I say, "Creepy," but I'm smiling.
The little alien turns to me and says, "Do you mind?"
The skeleton says to the alien, "OHH you are just so irrisistable....with that...green skin."
"Well uhh...hey," says the alien, "do you maybe wanna...you know uhh...make out?"
The skeleton says, "OH, I thought you'd never ask, you hunk of a hybrid you..."
I shake my head, "This is so wrong."
Max smashes the little toys heads together and makes little muffled noises, "Ohhhhhhh...mmmmmmmmm....aaahhhhhhhhh."
I say, "Ohhhhhh boy."
They stop going at it because the little alien is falling apart and getting back up again. The alien, when he gets himself back together again he says to the skeleton, "Wow, that was some kiss, by the way, your breastbone is showing."
I say, "Who knew that Max Evans was such a cheeseball.....oh yea.....I did."
I go: hachoo
The alien says to me, "Shut it, cootie girl."
I grab the alien and place a big sloppy wet kiss on his face.
Max says, "Hey no fair."
umm...
Are you hurling yet?
Ok, so were cute together.
Did I just say cute?
Oh boy.
I go: hachoo
Max bends over to kiss my chin because that's all he can reach.
And I'm having this feeling.
Max says, "What are you thinking about?"
"Truthfully?"
"Truthfully."
"I'm having this feeling."
"What feeling?"
I sit up and Max picks some twigs off the back of my shirt. I turn so that I'm facing him, "It's this feeling."
"What feeling."
"I don't know."
"Well what does it feel like?"
"It feels like a feeling."
"What feeling."
"It's just this feeling."
"Umm...confusion?"
"No.....what is that feeling....you know."
"Uhh...I'm not sure."
"That feeling where like, obsession is reciprocated."
He smiles, "I like this brutal honesty thing you've got going."
"What is it."
"Umm...when obsession is reciprocated....I believe they call that.." Max rubs his lips together nervously and squints his eyes, "...Love?"
Love.
It's wierd when you hear it. Love love love love, sounds so meaningless if you repeat it over and over again. But if you just hear it once.....
I say, "Yea....love."
Max says, "Yea....I'm feeling that too."
I nod.
He nods.
We stare.
He says, "Umm...I don't need to like....ask anymore....do I?"
"Ask what?"
"Asking just feels so stupid."
"Asking what?"
"You know....asking..."
I say, "Asking sounds so meaningless when you say it that many times....asking asking asking.....what does that mean, anyway?"
"Huh?"
"What did you want to ask?"
"I didn't want to ask."
"What didn't you want to ask."
"Umm....I think I ruined the moment."
"Are we nervous?"
"I think so."
I nod.
He nods.
We stare.
I say, "Why are we nervous."
"I don't know....it was so easy last night."
"What was easy?"
"I didn't even ask."
"Didn't ask what?" "I'm just shutting up."
"We should probobly make out."
"Wow...ok."
"Is that what you were going to ask."
"More or less..."
"Well you don't have to ask."
"Good, I won't."
I say, "Love love love love love asking asking asking."
He sighs and says, "I'm not nervous anymore...I think it was just a thing."
"Neither am I......that skeleton, it's yours...I stole it for you."
He smiles, "You did?"
"Yea."
"Thank you."
"Your welcome."
I go: hachoo
He shakes his head and scoots over to face me, cross legged, putting his fingers on the bridge of my nose.
I say, "It's allergies, it'll just come back."
"I know, but this is fun."
He's making my nose all warm and tingly.
He's making my everything all warm and tingly.
I close my eyes because that's just what you have to do when your having feelings like this, you close your eyes to savor it.
Me and Max, we're not feeling so detached anymore.
We are very much here, in the moment, in the world. You could choke on the beauty of it all.
He pushes some hair behind my ear and he's looking at me. He's been looking at me like this all morning. Like he's seeing something there, like he's seeing me.
No ones ever looked at me like this.
His breath grazes the skin next to my ear, over my cheek. I turn my head and catch his lips between mine, because it feels right, because there's no reason not to, because I want to.
Because I'm learning that it's ok to want things from someone.
I turn my body and we're touching each other. Touching all that we can, arms, legs, stomachs, lips, tounges, you name it.
Me and Max, we need this.
This kiss, I don't have time to think about pointers because it just feels right. We just fit, the situation is defining itself.
We lean back onto the poppies and his hand is on my side, drawing little cirles on my skin.
My hand is somewhere in his hair, messing it all up.
Then me, because nothing is ever as perfect as it seems, because it's the little imperfect things about the situation that make it so perfect, I lean back and I go : hachoo
And we laugh.
And we lay here, him with his hand on my nose continuously, so that I stop sneezing, we hold each other.
I look around us. The poppies are swaying with the breeze, making it look like a giant, orange ocean. I say, "This place is amazing."
And he says, "It's just a place."
I nod, because I think I know what he's saying.
He says, "It's perfect, because we're together, but it's just a place, it could be horrible if we were alone."
I say, "Like Roswell."
"Yea, Like Roswell."
I say, "I miss it."
He nods, "Looks like there's no place like home after all."
"I miss the people, I miss Tess."
"So do I."
"And Alex and Maria."
"And Isabel and Michael."
"Yea."
"Yea."
"So what do we do now?"
He smiles and hugs me closer, "Well, first we hump like rabbits....kidding.....ok first we make out some more."
"Definitely."
"Then we sleep."
"Ok."
"Then.....we face things."
I nod, because I know what this means, because I know that this means we're going home.
--------------------------------
The drive home.
Being in the car sucks because I was just getting used to second base.
And now I'm just sitting here stalling the car every five minutes.
Max says, "Well....we should get there in about three weeks."
I say, "Can it."
"I'm kidding."
"I love you."
He stares.
I say, "WHY IS THE CLUTCH SO FAR AWAY!?"
"Whoa, whoa, your letting up too fast."
"Letting up on what."
"I love you too."
I stall the car again.
We smile at each other.
He says, "The clutch, you gotta ease it off slower, and push on the gas at the same time, kind of like a teeter totter. Ok? Then when you want to break you gotta push on the clutch and ease off the gas and then push on the break, maybe we should move the seat up."
This is what I'm hearing: clutch clutch break break break gas acceleration, Ok? Break break clutchety clutch clutch gas gas gas, maybe we should move the seat up.
I say, "Yea ok."
It takes me about half an hour to get the speed above 30 Mph.
I say, "Your birthday is in two weeks."
"No it's not."
"Well, when is it then?"
"It was like five months ago."
"Well, that's not going to work for me."
"Uhh...."
"Was it the day you were born"
"I wasn't exactly born, my mom and dad just picked the day the adoption went through."
"Well, see, you don't know what day you were born, what if your birthday is really in two weeks?"
"What if it's really in two months?"
"My point exactly."
"Wait a second.....what's the point again?"
"The point is that your birthday is in two weeks."
"Really?"
"MmmHmm."
"You gonna get me something?"
"Yea."
"Cool."
Max, he looks at me and he says, "What if my birthdays really today?"
"That's not gonna work for me."
He stares out the window, shaking his head and laughing slightly.
I look out the window too, In the middle of the dying desert I see this poppy. This random, misplaced poppy.
I've never had this feeling before, this feeling where I realize I have my whole life ahead of me, and I'm actually happy about it.
So we drive home, we drive home because the climax is over and we're just sitting here waiting for resolution, some life statement to take home and paint on a sign and hang above our doorway.
Pardon me while I reflect on this.
I think about me almost dying and I think maybe a good moral would be: Don't try this at home.
But that's just stupid.
I mean look at me, does it look like a regret a damn thing?
How about: There's not so many places like home.
How about: Kiss the pathological liar.
How about: Leave the damn gun in the drawer, dummy.
I'll have to think about this some more.
For Max's birthday, I think I'll give him freedom from guilt.
Because we're all such tragedies waiting for resolution.
We're all such aliens looking for a good place to call home.
The epilogue, this is where I give you closure.
Closure, this is where I leave you with that feeling of satisfaction that you've learned something new. This is where I leave you with that take home message, compacted into five words or less, that you can write on your notebook and read every day. Or maybe you can paint it above a sign and hang in on your doorway, or maybe you can do nothing and forget about it.
This is where I tie everything up, begging and end, into a perfect little package.
This is where I tell you how perfect my life has become, how the spinning never spun again, how I never lied again, grew up, had kids, how my grass never turned yellow, how my drains never got clogged.
Well I hope your not too disappointed.
It's only been two weeks and my sense of insight isn't that great. This is a part of the process, you know, trying not to tell my own future.
So here we have it, if you listen hard enough you'll know that I lie again.
It's not as bad as it sounds.
Listen up: A lie is a judement call, it all just depends on the situation.
I taught you how to lie before, step by step, now I teach you something new.
I don't know what it's called, but it has a process, a series of steps that will fit perfectly into that package that I'm calling closure.
--------------------------------------------
I'm working right now, so is Tess, Courtney, and Maria. Friday night so only the regulars are here.
Notice how life settings always repeat themeselves. Maybe it's tradition, maybe it's that I've lived here for so long that all the settings have to be the same, I'm not sure.
One thing I'm sure of is that traditions change after big mega-events like the one's we've all just had.
About the regulars....
The regulars are the people that feel sorry for the working class and decided to bring the party to the Crashdown Cafe. Specifically, the regulars are the woman who sits in the corner (Her name is Debbie, she's not so insane after all, it's just that sometimes her dog talks through her...and her parents are Russian spies, it's true, she told me), Max and his posse (which consists of Isabel, Michael, and Alex), Eddie, and Kyle.
Of course, Max is only here because he knows that I'm working.
Of course, Eddie is only here because he knows that Courtney is working (apparently he found someone that turns him down more than I do).
None of us want to leave town all that bad just yet, there are certain things that Roswell needs to know.
Or, not know, as the case may be.
I'll explain later, right now I must pretend to work.
Me and Tess lean our backs against the counter, sending googly eyes and evil smiles to our respective partners in crime.
It's enough to make everyone else want to hurl.
We're getting used to the teasing, the prodding, the all around confusion. Who knew Liz Parker would find love in Roswell?....not me....and now I'm down 20 bucks.
How's this for a moral: Never bet money on your love life.
I can hear Courtney and Maria having a sister fight, stacking tubs of ketchup in the backroom.
Tess nudges me with her elbow, she says, "Are we having fun yet."
Tess, my one regret, and I think she knows it.
I say, "We went through a lot, to get here."
She sighs, "What happened, happened."
"Are you really ready for this, right here? Right now?"
She nods, because she knows what I'm talking about, because she's ready to listen. Me and Tess, we have these cryptic conversations like this because, at this point, it's the only way she can talk about what happened to her. She can't use the exact words, the brutaly honest phrases.
She says, "The butterfly flaps it's wings, Liz, what would you do differently, where would you end up?"
She's talking about the butterfly effect. One situation causing another causing another causing another. What would I do differently? What if it changed the place where I was at today?
There's this one thing I would do differently. It may have caused Tess to never become friends with Max, she might never have made him feel worthy, which may have caused him to never go to that party, and so on, and so forth.
I say, "I would report him, the minute I knew."
Tess, she shakes her head, she says, "I would have hated you."
"I would risk that."
"And you and Max?"
I pause, "Yea, I would risk that too."
"Because of the guilt?"
"Because of the guilt."
Then Tess hugs me. She hasn't done this yet because she's still getting used to human contact and not feeling like a monster. She says, "You could still be miserable right now, you would have so many more regrets than you do now, you'de still be killing yourself with guilt."
And I guess she's right.
See, how this all started was we all wanted something to kill.
We all wanted to kill the thing that was making us an alien.
For me and Max, it was something inside. We became the guilt and the lie and the alien.
We embodied alienation.
Tess wanted to kill the pain, the monster. She's dealing now that the monster is locked up.
You could say we're all dealing.
You could say we're all repenting and getting on with it.
Tess, she says, "I owe you."
I say, "Someone I know needs freedom from guilt."
She says, "Done."
------------------------------------------------
"Did you move my lamp? Who moved my lamp?"
"Are we talking about you now?"
"We are if you moved my lamp."
"Max did it."
Max raises his eyebrows and gives me this look.
I smile, "Did you know it's Max's birthday tomorrow?"
Dr. Amos says, "Who moved my paperweight?"
Max says, "Liz did."
Dr. Amos says, "I thought your birthday was five months ago."
"It was."
I smack Max on the arm.
Max goes, "Did you know that Liz has six toes? It's really gross, I try to convince her to keep her socks on at all times, but you know...sometimes...the clothing just comes flying off...."
Dr. Amos clears his throat.
I go, "Yesterday, Eddie inhaled a pixie stick, it was awesome, he's still blowing blue snot out of his nose."
Max goes, "I think it's a pool thing, never take Liz to a public pool, especially when there are young children present."
Dr. Amos moves his paperweight.
I go, "Ok Mr. I'm-just-doing-some-pull-ups, he walks around his house shirtless 24-7 saying, hey baby, look at my big manly muscles, then he's like, hey my parents are downstairs, then he's like, ohh don't you wanna touch my big manly muscles, then he's like, ohh too bad."
Max goes, "I've never played the 'my parents are downstairs card'"
"Sure you did."
"Oh yea? When?"
"Umm...like...last Friday."
Dr. Amos moves his lamp.
Max says, "Ok...you we're working last Friday."
"Oh yea....Thursday then."
"You gotta wear the antennas tomorrow."
"Hah."
"It's my birthday, your supposed to wear the antennas all day."
"Perv."
Max shakes his head.
I say, "Do you believe this guy Doc?"
Dr. Amos smiles at me. Then it all goes quiet.
I go, "Hi."
Dr. Amos goes, "Hi."
"So...."
Dr. Amos waves his hand around, "Oh, don't mind me, carry on."
"Oh Doc, not another hissy fit."
He shakes his head.
"Are you feeling unloved? We'll try harder."
Dr. Amos says, "I think we should start scheduling seperate appointments again."
I throw my hands in the air, "OH, Doc, I forgot to tell you, turns out Max is human after all. You know, he's missing the telltale I'm-a-Klingon mark. I could have sworn I saw it but, poof, it's gone. Do you wanna see?."
Dr. Amos says, "No thank you Liz."
I shrug, "It was really X-rated anyway. Hey Doc? I really think this therapy is helping me a lot."
-------------------------------------------
Maria is wearing her orange shirt, so it must be Tuesday. You know the drill.
She says to me, "You do realize that you don't go to school here anymore?"
I say, "Oh yea, did the school paper come out yet?"
"Yea, they passed it out in first period."
"You didn't read it?"
Alex says, "You smell like...paint."
I say, "Wierd."
"Your up to something."
"Nu uh."
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be back."
I walk down the hall of the school that I don't go to anymore.
I need to find the school paper. The deal is that I'm no journalist so I hope I got my point across.
Max sees me in the hallway, he smiles at me - that one smile - and he says, "What are you doing here?"
"Truthfully?"
"Truthfully."
"Plotting against you."
"Sounds dangerous."
"Well, you know me."
He grabs my wrist and tugs me a little closer, he says, "You smell like...paint."
I shrug.
Down the hallway, there's this tizzy and flurry of people. Eddie is passing out the school paper. He walks up to us and hands Max a paper and says, "Did you hear it was a hoax?"
Max goes, "What was a hoax?"
Eddie goes, "It's kind of depressing, I could have sworn I was one of them."
Max, he goes, "What was a hoax?"
Eddie goes, "Party at my house tonight."
Max goes, "What was a hoax?"
Eddie walks off.
Max, he's looking kind of disturbed, he goes, "Liz....Liz Liz....What was a hoax."
I go, "Oh....you know...that alien thing...total rumor."
His face drops, he says, "Huh?"
I point to the paper, "Read."
So he reads.
The thing is that I should have thought of this so much sooner.
Oh well, what happens, happens.
So what is he reading?
A very hot story by yours truly, with all my claims to fame I really can't go wrong.
I'm president of the science club, I'm Tess's friend, who isn't gonna believe me?
So in this story, the president of the science club does a very empirical study on the make up of the material in that cave.
The president of the science club, what did she find? Well, she found your average, everyday materials. Stuff you can find around the house. She even gives tips on how to make an alien cave in your very own back yard.
I say, "That upside-down cone thing, Tess painted it purple, I hope you don't mind."
Max goes, "......"
"She thought it looked better that way, then we added green polka dots...did you know that only like, five people have really actually seen the cave? Not including you guys."
Max goes, ".........."
"So I got some of that alien goop crap on my hands, am I gonna go all spacial now?"
Max reads, "...metal you can find from a junkyard covered with paint, a couple kids probobly fooled around in the desert and made this big alien hoax, who knew?"
Here's the kicker: Even if there's someone out there that doesn't believe this, which I'm sure there are, It doesn't matter.
Because this is all something that Roswell needed to know.
It began as a rumor and it ends as a rumor. I'm just tying up the beginning and the end here.
Am I good or am I good?
Max, he opens his mouth and he goes, "....."
Then, he pulls me into the eraser room.
I say, "What did they say about us being in here?"
Max says, "You...." He cups my face in his hands and starts kissing all over my face, "are a genius?"
"I think it was more along the lines of....'stop making out in the eraser room'."
"Do you think it'll work?"
I nod, "You know Tess with all her power in society, she's helping me out, she thinks I did this for myself."
Max smiles and bites his lower lip and leans forward so that our forheads are touching, he says, "Liz......."
I look up at him and I say, "So happy birthday....."
This is what me and Max are like.
A third of the time we're like second graders, teasing each other relentlessly.
Another third of the time we're like this tragic Romeo and Juliet, drinking each other's air and looking into each other's souls.
Another third of the time....we're umm....uhh....use your imagination.
Yea.
Anyway.....
----------------------------------------------
Oh, how history repeats itself over and over and over with the smallest of variations.
A group of my friends sit in a circle before me.
Only this time, I'm in the circle too.
Only this time, nothing is spinning.
This is what I call living in the world.
It's not about going out and acting fake and changing my entire personality so that more people like me. It's about opening my eyes, looking around, finding things in people that I wouldn't normally see if I was stuck inside my head.
Roswell has changed, but not how you think.
It's changed in our heads.
We see it as it is now, it's just a place, a place where the people see it wrong and now the're starting to see it right.
It's still not so great, there's still nothing to do. But the hate that we heard, in between the words, inside the silence, we put that there, and then we took it away.
You could just trip on the healthiness of it all.
See, I'm still me.
Maria says, "What about Humboldt."
Kyle says, "That could work."
Alex says, "Too college-ish."
Isabel says, "This is so unrealistic, are we really all going to move together?"
Max says, "Yes."
Tess says, "How are we going to find a college that's not college-ish?"
Alex says, "Good point."
Michael with a deadpan voice, he says, "This is so sweet, I think I'm gonna cry."
Maria slaps him on the arm.
Eddie goes, "I need a kleenex."
Courtney goes, "Your such a fucking idiot Eddie."
Eddie smiles.
I go, "Hey, have you guys ever been nowhere?"
Max grins.
So me, I'm sitting here saying: Closure, you can shove it.
I don't think I'll give you my closure package. I think that this isn't over.
I think I'll just not close this off like some part of my life is ending or some part of my life is beginning.
I think It's just gonna keep on going, and spinning, and causing things to happen.
And over and over and over.
You know, like a wheel on a car, or a bottle, or someones mind, or someones life.
The ending, this is where I give you that five words or less deal, leave you with that warm, fuzzy feeling that you know something new.
Do you feel it yet?
Wonderful.
So how's this for an ending: .........
