Part Four I’ve managed to haul myself together. My grades are better, I no longer have to force a smile to let my parents know I’m okay. They haven’t allowed me to stop going to the shrink, but I think it’s only a matter of time before the doc tells them I don’t need his help any more. I feel good. I almost feel happy. I am most happy about the fact that Liz Parker no longer invades my every waking moment. Sitting in my room, staring into my math book, I don’t wonder if Liz is learning the same things in math that I am. Instead, I wonder if Maria needs help with her homework. And that makes me smile. I’m good at math, but I don’t necessarily like it. Probably because there is no way I can use my powers to manipulate the answers. In biology or chemistry, I could always put an experiment back to its original state and start over if I messed it up. In math, I’m restricted to pencils, erasers and calculators like everyone else on earth. I can’t imagine ever having a career that involves crunching numbers. So I sit at my desk and write and erase and scratch my head. But I don’t really mind. I don’t mind much these days. I’ve learned to let it all go, to deal with each thing as it comes up instead of taking the weight of the world on my shoulders all at once. And I think I should give Maria about 99.9% credit for that. She really has helped me heal. She is such a wonderful friend – I can’t believe I could never see that while Liz was around. There is a light tap on the window. I figure it’s Michael because he and Liz are the only two that have ever used the window as an entrance. I don’t want to deal with Michael and his poorly adjusted attitude right now. He brings me down. I’d rather work on my homework and go to bed early instead of dealing with him and his commando theories. But when I push the curtains aside, I see that it is not Michael, but rather Maria. I start to smile until I realize she is crying. I push the window open. “Hey,” I say, “what’s wrong?” “Can – I – come – in?” Her words come out with a little hiccupping sound between them. I nod and hold my hand out to help her through the window. She stands before me, working her hands together, staring at the floor. “What happened?” I inquire. “He – yelled – I –wanted – talk – Michael – I – thought – I –“ Oddly, I understand her. I get it. She went to see Michael, he was mean to her and now she hurts. I give a sympathetic sigh and reach for her, pull her in tight to my body. “It’s okay,” I sooth her. “It’s all right.” The first thing I notice is how thin she is. I can feel her ribs beneath my hands as I hold her tightly – she seems to have no substance and I feel like I am holding onto not much more than air. Then I notice how good she smells. I can put a description to it, other than she smells very sweet. I become aware that her heart is beating very quickly and that concerns me. She is either very scared or very upset. I pull back and look into her tear-streaked face. “Did he hurt you?” She sniffles, nods her head. Crap. I start investigating her arms, looking for bruises or scrapes. “Where?” She shakes her head. “Not there. Not like that.” Oh. I get that, too. He hasn’t struck her physically, but the emotional harm he has inflicted on her is worse than any bodily wound could ever be. I hold her close again and she just sobs. It’s enough to break my heart. Her slim body convulses every now and then and I just try to hold her as tightly as I can, to protect her against me. She clutches my back, holding on as tightly as I am. She seems so small, so fragile, so vulnerable. Part of me wants to hate Michael for this, but another part of me empathizes with Maria for not being able to let go after all of this time. It’s been almost a year. I kiss the top of her hair, and smooth her back with my hands. I think she is calming down a bit. I know it hurts, Maria. Just let it out. I pull back a little and look into her face. I give her a little smile and she attempts to smile back. With my fingertips, I brush the tears from her cheeks – her skin is soft and smooth. I don’t know why, but I lean in and give her a little kiss. I’ve never kissed Maria before, but it seems like a comforting gesture. She gives a little laugh and I smile again, give her another little kiss. And then neither of us is laughing. I look into her hazel eyes and I see an emotion there that I have never witnessed before. Her eyes are round and I think maybe I have stepped over the line. But then those beautiful, wet eyes drift down to my lips and I feel a twinge in my stomach that I haven’t felt in a very long time. Dare I? I lean forward, figuring I will meet her half way. That way I’m not kissing her and she’s not kissing me. It will be a mutual kind of thing. No blame on either side. And then her lips are on mine and there is nothing quick about this kiss. For a moment we both pause, uncertain, then she is moving against me, nibbling my bottom lip, parting hers in invitation. Oh, God, she’s an incredible kisser! I get lost in the movements of her lips, her tongue and I weave my hands into her soft hair. She gives a little cry and I suddenly want to touch her…everywhere. But as I am thinking about reaching for the bottom of her shirt, it occurs to me that I have the worst timing in the world. I can’t do this to her right now. She showed up at my window grieving over Michael and I just stepped right into the role of “Rebound Man.” We have a good relationship. I’m not going to ruin this because I’m eighteen and hormonal. So I pull back and she looks at me in confusion. I try to give her a gentle smile and she steps back self-consciously. “That was…interesting,” I tell her. She’s staring at the floor. I think she may be more panicked now than when she came to my window. “Maria,” I say softly. “It’s okay.” Not really. I’m making light of this, but now my own heart is thudding very rapidly and I’m hoping that my physical reaction to her isn’t as obvious as I think it might be. We were pressed so tightly together that she had to have felt that. “Don’t weird out on me,” I try to laugh. She looks up at me, her eyes still very round. “Did you want to kiss me?” she asks. No, sweetie, you held a gun to my head. I nod. She works her mouth. “Is it because I was crying?” Well, yes – because there is nothing more attractive than snot, saline and red, puffy eyes. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “You weren’t taking pity on me?” I smile at her. “There is nothing pitiful about you, Maria.” She’s silent for a moment, then she breaks into a smile and says, “Cool.” The next day, I see her at school, standing before her locker. I’m a little uneasy about talking to her – things always seem different in retrospect. Me, I sat up half the night thinking about that kiss, trying to make Mr. Winky go to sleep so I could get some sleep. But it may have been a different story for her. Maybe she went home and sat up half the night wishing she hadn’t kissed me. So I approach her cautiously, peer at her playfully from behind her locker door. She spies me and breaks into a grin. Whew. “Hey, Max,” she says and I think I see a slight blush cross her cheeks. Either that or her skin is glowing. Yes, I am egotistical enough to think that one kiss from me would make Maria glow. “Hi,” I smile back. “Heading for art class?” I know her schedule by heart. “Yep. Heading for that dreaded math class?” I laugh – she knows mine as well. I clear my throat. “Look, we only have a couple of minutes. But about last night…” Her eyebrows arch upwards. “Yeah?” It’s hard to read her expression. I can’t tell if she is afraid of what I might say or excited about what I might say. Me, I’m terrified of what I am about to say. “Do you think – I mean, sometime could we, um…” She giggles. “Full sentences, Max.” I laugh in embarrassment and look at my shoes. “Prom is coming up and – “ She laughs a little harder. “Oh. My. God. Are you asking me out?!” Um, yeah… She must be able to read my expression because hers suddenly falls very serious. “You are,” she says. “Aren’t you?” I nod. I’m starting to think this isn’t going as I had planned. “On a date?” I nod again. Obviously she’s not convinced. “On a real date?” I nod yet again – I’ve suddenly become mute. Come on, Deluca, out with the rejection. Please let this fish off the hook. But she smiles. “Okay.” And she laughs a little giggle. “This doesn’t change anything, does it?” she asks curiously. “I mean, you’re not about to weird out on me now, are you?” I shake my head, try to hide my grin. I’ve got this rush of adrenaline running through my body, this buzzing excitement. “Nope,” I respond. “Same old Max, same old Maria. Just with a little more of last night thrown in?” I raise my eyebrows questioningly and she laughs. “Yeah,” she says. “Definitely a little more of last night.” *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Prom comes quickly and before I know it I am standing outside of Maria’s house waiting to pick her up. Her mom is a riot – she ogles me as I stand like a nervous dork on her doorstep. “What a handsome young man,” she says, eyeing me up and down. “What was your name again?” I laugh uncomfortably and am gratefully relieved by Maria’s voice behind her. “Mom, stop it,” she complains and pushes her mother out of the way. “You know it’s Max.” My breath is gone. It’s all over – I can’t breathe. Maria is absolutely stunning. Her hair is pulled up into some curly thing on top of her head and she’s wearing a green dress. But she just looks…perfect. And she smells so good I have to close my eyes against the agony of it. She’s laughing at me. I have flowers in my hand. Oh, yeah, I’m supposed to pin them on her…or something. I am a nervous dork. We manage to make it through the pinning-of-the-corsage ritual and her mom snaps some pictures. Then it’s off to the dance. We have a great time. We laugh, we dance. I can’t dance as well as she does, but she has amazing patience. A slow song comes on and I get to hold her against me. In the weeks since our first kiss, we’ve kissed many times. In fact, there have been some rather heated moments in the back of my jeep, in the back of her mom’s Jetta. And as I stand here, holding her, swaying with the music, I think of all of those steamy nights, kissing her, wondering where I can touch her without upsetting her. I swallow hard and she looks up at me. From the look in her eyes, she’s been thinking all of the same things I’ve been thinking. She looks very serious as she reaches up to run her hands through my hair. From this position, looking down, I can see down her dress. She knows I’m looking and she makes no move to hide the view from me. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses the end of my nose. She never really pulls back as her lips brush across mine. I give a little gasp and I can feel her lips spread into a smile. We kiss for the remainder of the song. I don’t care who sees us. I don’t care if one of the chaperones is about to walk over and tap us on the shoulder and tell us to get a room. I can’t think about any of that. All I can think about is her body swaying with mine, her hips locked against mine, her lips moving softly, tenderly beneath mine. For weeks, I’ve been literally lovesick. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate on anything. But this night, standing here with her, is exactly what I need. I know how I want this night to end. As soon as I have the thought, she pulls away and looks into my eyes. “My mom will be out all night,” is all she says. And then we are in her bedroom. I’m paralyzed. I just watch her move around the room, slipping off her shoes, taking out her earrings. Miraculously, with one pull of a pin, her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She turns on her CD player, turns the volume down so that the sound is barely there. I’m still hovering in the doorway. She smiles at me, comes before me and turns around. Brushing her hair aside, she says, “Unzip me?” My fingers tremble as I reach for the zipper. The fabric is delicate and I wonder if she would kick my ass if I accidentally ripped it. I really don’t need that added pressure right now, thanks. The zipper makes it thankfully down her back, past her waist, over the curve of her hips. She smiles and moves away from me, turns around to face me. Her gaze never wavers as she shrugs first one shoulder, then the other. The dress falls to the floor in the slightest rustling of fabric and she is standing before me in a strapless bra and a pair of lacey panties. I think I just groaned. Was that me that just groaned? She smiles again, looks momentarily uncertain. “I’ve never…I’ve never done this before,” she confesses. I shake my head. “Me neither.” That seems to reassure her a little. “Do you…do you want to?” Hmm, let me think. I could go home and watch TV with Isabel and the ‘rents instead. “Yes,” I tell her. Then she smiles even wider. “Are you going to take some clothes off?” I’m still fully clothed – suit jacket and all. I have to laugh with her. I kick my shoes off and lay my jacket in a chair. I try not to look too eager. Which I am – eager. But I don’t want her to think that I’m that anxious. She helps me with my tie, tosses it onto the chair with my coat. Her fingers are trembling, too, as she unbuttons my shirt and lets it drop to the floor. She looks at my chest like she’s never seen it before – she has. But now she is looking at it in a different light. I understand – this is the body she is about to make love to. I reach out and touch the soft skin of her shoulder, then I let my hand drift down to her breast. She draws in a breath and closes her eyes momentarily. I love her breasts – they seem to fit perfectly in my palm. She’s not big, but that doesn’t matter to me. Her breasts are soft, warm, inviting beneath my hand. With my other hand, I reach behind her and fumble with her bra strap. She is about to reach back to help me, but I used my powers instead and the pesty undergarment falls to the floor. Her eyes grow wide and she giggles. I feel somewhat detached from the world. I know that life is going on around me, but all I can concentrate on is Maria, the way she feels, the way she smells, the way she sounds. As we lay together on her bed, I try to absorb every little nuance of our intimacy. Never have I lain entirely nude with someone else’s nude body pressed against mine. It is a foreign and awesome sensation. We’re clumsy at first, fumbling, trying to match each other’s moves. But once we stop thinking about it, stop trying to make every little thing perfect, we fall into a natural rhythm and nothing seems more destined than this. Afterwards, we lay in complete silence. She is curled up beside me, her head on my chest. I smile – her hair tickles. She hasn’t moved in awhile, so I wonder if she is asleep. “Maria,” I say softly. “What are you doing?” “Listening to your heart,” she replies. I smile. “What is it telling you?” She lifts her head to regard me. Her expression is full of emotion. “It’s telling me to ask you to follow it.” I see a little tear in her eye. “Because mine has asked me to do the same, and I told it yes.” And suddenly I’m feeling tears in my own eyes. I sniffle and nod. “I will,” I tell her. “You can tell it I will.” She finally smiles and lays her ear against my chest again. Life is wonderful. Maria and I grow closer each day. I have never loved anyone as much as I love her. I rarely think of Liz; she never mentions Michael. I think we are healing, together. Summer comes and goes. Soon it is senior year and by Christmas we are talking colleges. We have to go together. There’s no questioning that. We fan through many brochures. Neither of us knows what we want to be, so our criteria is simple – where can we go to live together and what college has the best night life. We lead a simple existence really – whatever we can do together makes us happy. And then one day about a month before graduation she comes to my window and tells me she’s pregnant. |
| PART 4 |