Part Seven After a few days, I take her home. It hurts me beyond belief to see her cringe as she climbs the steps to our apartment. I offer to help her, but she brushes me off without a word. So I follow her, slowly, step by step. At least she lets me get the door for her. She avoids the bathroom. I scrubbed that floor for two hours straight so that she wouldn’t have the tiniest of reminders of what had happened in there. I could have waved my hand and cleaned that tile in a matter of seconds, but I have made a vow to myself that I am done with my powers. They have failed me, I can’t trust myself to use them any more. I think she waits to pee until it is an emergency – not a good idea considering her insides are all messed up and the extra pressure can’t be good for her. She staggers for the bathroom and inside I can hear her crying. I’m not sure if she is crying because it hurts to pee or because she’s remembering what happened. I hover by the closed door until she tells me to go away. Then she retires to the bed. She stays there for two weeks, doing nothing but staring at the wall. I try to talk to her. She acts like she doesn’t hear. I have to force her to eat, to keep her doctor’s appointments. Her eyes are dull and I know a little piece of her is dead. I know I am to blame. I sleep on the couch the first few nights just because I am afraid I will jostle her in my sleep and hurt her. I explain this to her and she doesn’t act like she cares. When I move back into the bed, I find that I can indeed sleep in a confined space as I have exiled myself to the very edge of the mattress. I want to hold her, but she doesn’t act interested. I never see her cry. Me, I bawl like a two year old. But not around her. It usually hits me at the oddest moments – in the shower, walking to the carry-out to get milk. Isabel stops by and finds me blubbering on the curb. She’s such a sweet sister – she never makes any comments, just sits beside me and puts an arm around my shoulders. I love Isabel so much. Alex drops in a few days later and Maria greets him with a big grin, a kiss and a hug. She even manages to laugh a little and I am insanely jealous. What is Alex doing that I’m not? Oh, it’s not what I am doing, it’s what I couldn’t do. Got it. The first time we try to make love again, after the doctor gives her okay, is a disaster. Maria cries the whole time, silently. She just lays there, her head turned to the side, her arms above her head, her hands clutching the slats of the headboard until her knuckles turn white. I try to talk to her, to sooth her, to tell her we can wait, but she doesn’t respond. And after awhile I can’t respond – literally. I feel like I’m violating her, so I just stop and tell her it’s okay. She won’t even let me hold her. And eventually I stop trying. I think when I first brought her home, I was hopelessly optimistic that things would return to normal. Now I know they won’t. We pass in the hallway and barely speak. She showers with the bathroom door closed. When I travel back to Roswell for Isabel’s twenty-first birthday party, she stays behind. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to answer questions about the baby or if it’s because she doesn’t want to spend time with me. I supposed she eventually catches on that I have abandoned my powers. The first morning I come out of the bathroom with bloody dots of toilet tissue on my face is probably the first indication. But she never says a word. She kind of eyes me curiously, but she never asks. And then one day I come home from classes and find her sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me. She looks expectant, nervous about something. I drop my backpack by the door and slowly sink into a chair opposite her. “Maria?” I ask her softly. She works her mouth, draws in a breath and lets out what’s on her mind. “I want to move to California.” Huh? I blink a couple of times. Where has this come from? “California?” I choke out. She nods, her gaze flitting away from mine. “I’ve been taking this drama class” – yes, I know – “and I think maybe I could make a go of it.” I watch her silently. She took that drama class as an elective because she had no idea what she wanted to major in, not because she had a life-long dream of being an actress. And now she wants to pack up the U-Haul and head for Tinsel town? She lets out a sigh and looks at the floor. “I knew you’d hate the idea.” I shake my head vigorously. I may hate the idea, but I don’t want to upset her. “I don’t hate it,” I lie. “Just tell me more of what you have planned.” There is a spark in her eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time. She sits up straight at the table. “I thought we could wait until Christmas when you’re between semesters.” When I’m between semesters? Shouldn’t she be between them as well at that point? Or is her college career over now? And why Christmas? I thought she would want to be with her family this year. I want to be with mine. “Go on,” I say. “And you can register at UCLA or something. You’re smart, Max – I know you’ll get in.” Yes, I probably could. “What would you do?” I ask her cautiously. “Get an agent.” She almost giggles when she says it. “Take some more acting classes, go to auditions.” For the first time in months, she reaches across the table and touches my hand. “Please, Max. I really want this.” I can’t deny her. So we pack up our little apartment, she drops out of school and I transfer. As we drive to Los Angeles, I can practically feel her slip farther away from me as each mile passes. Her mind is propelling her in an entirely different direction than mine is heading. She wants cosmetic surgery – and makes it very clear that I have no say in the matter. By the time we reach sunny California, I realize I am traveling with a stranger. I go to UCLA, finally picking accounting as a major. I’m good with numbers, I can’t cheat with my powers. I will probably make a good buck some day. One day in the student lounge someone offers me a cigarette and since I’ve never tried smoking, I accept and a new love affair is started. Buzzed, I can deal with anything. Or rather, I don’t have to deal with anything. My miserable life disappears and the whole world is beautiful. I have to learn to hide my state of intoxication – normal people don’t get stoned off Winstons. Which is the true joy of it – I can put myself out of misery whenever I want and no one is the wiser. And I do it many times – holidays are the most appropriate times. No family around, a wife that is withdrawn. So I withdraw – into my head. I think Maria wonders about the smoking, but again she never asks and I don’t offer her any explanation. In spite of the perpetual emotional evasion, I graduate with honors and Finegold and Fischer recruits me – for a good buck. See, I knew it would happen. Maria continues on her quest to be a movie star and I continue to get stoned. Such is life. Until my sister gets pregnant. |
| PART 7 |