Part Five “You still aren’t feeling well, are you?” Maria looked at Max as he pulled the jeep to a stop in front of her house and cut the engine. “What do you mean?” He climbed out from behind the wheel and walked around to open her door. “You’ve been really quiet,” he explained. “All night. You didn’t even act happy to see me when I came to visit you.” He pushed his lower lip out in a playful pout. Maria laughed at him as they started to walk up to her door. “I’m just tired.” “That’s not it,” Max said gently as she worked her key in the lock. Maria avoided his gaze – Liz had never mentioned Max had any kind of mind-reading powers, but she could never be too sure. “You seem sad.” As she pushed the door open, she met his gaze and noticed that there was genuine concern in his eyes. He really did care about her. “I am,” she admitted, walking into the kitchen and tossing her apron on the table. “Why?” he asked as he started down the hallway. Maria realized he wasn’t pausing like a guest would in a common area of the house – he was making his way back to her room uninvited. He must have been there many times before to be this comfortable with entering her private space. Not wanting to make his suspicious, she followed in his footsteps. “Just, you know,” she said as she watched Max kick off his shoes by her bed. Interesting. Maybe her mother had reason to worry. “Just stuff.” He sat down on the edge of her bed to pull off his socks. “Stuff?” he echoed. Maria could tell he wasn’t buying that answer so she needed to come up with a cover quickly. She couldn’t tell him about Michael, about how upset she was that she didn’t know what had happened to him. “Just my mom, you know,” she said, grimacing. “Going out with that Ronnie guy.” Max looked at her sympathetically and she waved a hand. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve got like the perfect home life.” Max snorted. “I do? Parents who don’t know who – or rather what – I am? A sister who is a bitch to everyone around her?” He shook his head. “Your family is far more real than mine will ever be, and that in itself will always make it better than mine.” Standing there, watching him speak so negatively of his family, Maria felt a jolt of guilt. Michael had had the most pathetic upbringing and it was more or less common knowledge that his home life had left something to be desired. But it was different to hear Max, who to the outside world had everything in a family he could ask for, sound so bitter and lonely. “I’m sorry,” Maria said, her voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault.” He shrugged. “I am what I am.” He gave her a small smile, then stood and started to pull off his jeans. Panic gripped Maria’s heart and made it pound faster. She couldn’t let him see her fear, so she turned to away from him, to her dresser, and pulled out a long T-shirt. Pulling off her waitress uniform and letting her bra slip down her arms, she tugged on the shirt and turned to face him, fearing he would be naked. But he wasn’t. He was still wearing his T-shirt and a pair of boxers. Unabashed, he pulled back her blankets and slid underneath. Don’t hesitate, she warned herself. This must be a normal thing for you to do. Just get in the bed. As soon as she slipped under the blankets, he reached for her and pulled her into his embrace. With a wave of his hand, he used his powers to turn out her bedroom light. Maria’s face felt warm with anxiety and she struggled to come up with an excuse to not have sex with Max. “Don’t worry about your mom,” he said, his voice soft against her ear. “You have to let her make her own decisions. And don’t worry about her finding me here again – I’ll be gone when you wake up.” Then he kissed her, his lips moving against her neck, her throat and finally her lips. One hand touched her hip, at the hem of the T-shirt she wore. She could feel him against her thigh and her body immediately stiffened. Within a split second, he was pulling away from her, breaking their kiss. “You don’t want to?” he asked quietly, his voice void of disgust or disappointment. She had to admit she was curious, but she would never betray Michael – not while she still remembered that she loved him. “Okay,” Max said without waiting for her response. “Then we’ll just sleep.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, then rearranged their bodies into a more relaxed, comfortable position. In the moonlight, Maria eyed him in disbelief after his eyes had drifted shut. He was an 18- year-old guy, he was in bed with a scantily clad girl, his body had already responded to a sexual need – and he was willing to just accept no and go to sleep? Max Evans truly was an alien. In the morning, Maria did wake up alone as promised. She never heard or felt Max leave her bed and she looked around wondering if he’d ever truly been there. As the days were wearing on, it was becoming harder and harder to keep the facts straight. Reaching under her mattress, she pulled out the pad and reviewed what she had written. It was becoming a morning ritual – if she made it a habit, she wouldn’t forget to do it. The words on the paper still seemed familiar and she knew that her memories had not yet given in to her new reality. She met Max at the Java Jitter and had coffee and a bagel with him before school. She couldn’t say that she minded his company – she was just growing tired of it, kind of like when a friend came to visit for a long weekend and now it was Sunday afternoon and she couldn’t wait from them to leave. So when they finally arrived at school and he went to his classes and left her to hers, she felt somewhat relieved. English was a blur once again as Maria’s thoughts drifted back to Michael. There was no one she could ask what had happened to him so she stood the chance of never knowing. Then Liz’s words repeated in her head – “It was front-page news for months.” That was it – all she had to do was go to the library, get the Microfilm for the Roswell Gazette from two years ago and she would have all of the answers she was looking for. Well, at least some of them. She would probably never know why she and Michael hadn’t been together in this life. Maria looked anxiously at the clock. It was only ten in the morning. The thought to skip class and go to the library crossed her mind, but she wasn’t sure if that was something she would do uncharacteristically. She frowned – she would have to wait until after school – five long hours away. After English, she trudged unenthusiastically toward her next class, her books hanging in her limp hand at her hip. As she rounded the corner, however, she came to an abrupt, startled halt and the kid behind her nearly knocked her to the floor. “Watch where you’re going, freak,” he spat as he rounded her. Maria didn’t notice him or his insult. Her eyes were fixed on the boy standing before his locker and digging in his notebook a few yards away from her. Alex Whitman. Before she could stop herself, Maria let out a scream and ran straight for him. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him as tightly as she could. “Oh, my God!” she screamed to the stares of passersby. “Alex! You’re alive!” Alex laughed and gently pushed her away from him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. “I just had the flu yesterday. Nothing fatal.” He was looking at her with an amused face. Maria realized what she had just said and her cheeks reddened. “Of course you did,” she said, clearing her throat. Alex closed his locker door. “But it’s nice to know I was missed so much,” he laughed, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You’re going to fill me in on what happened in Government, right?” Had she paid attention in Government? “Absolutely,” she agreed, smiling and enjoying the feel of his arm around her shoulders. As they walked together to their government class, talking like old friends, Maria knew that a change in history could not alter one thing – Alex’s friendship, his loyalty, his playful sense of humor. Of all of the people she had re-encountered in this existence, only Alex seemed unchanged. He even still had The Whits, had his dream of being in the garage band that would put Roswell on the map for more than just UFO crashes. As Government ended, Alex leaned across the aisle as Maria was gathering her things for her next class. “Let’s meet for a milkshake after school,” he suggested. She wanted to do that more than anything – but she had something else to do that afternoon. “You know, I have to run a couple of really stupid errands for my mom right after school. Do you think we could make it later – around six?” Alex nodded. “Mr. Evans won’t mind?” Maria shook her head, not really worried if Max minded or not. Some time away from him was just what she needed. Besides, there was no way she was going to turn down the opportunity to spend some time with Alex. She had been deprived of that for over a year. “Okay,” Alex said with a smile and pushed his lanky body from the desk. “Meet me at the Crashdown at six then.” Maria was surprised to find her knees shaking as she entered the Roswell Public Library in search of clues to Michael’s fate. The library – where he had once built a signal to Nasedo, calling out to someone for answers to his past. And how here Maria was, looking for new answers to a new past. The librarian directed Maria to the newspaper archives room and showed her how to use the microfilm machine. As soon as she was alone, Maria quickly calculated the date for two years ago – she would start backwards, with reels from May of 2000 and work her way back to the time of the shooting. She had seen Michael behind Max after she had been shot, so she knew whatever had happened to him happened between then and some time in the spring. Newspaper archives whizzed past as Maria looked for front-page items only. After a half hour and two rolls of film, defeat was starting to set it. She placed her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her hand, sighed. This couldn’t be a dead end. If it was a dead end, then she had no choice but to start asking questions of those around her and that could only raise suspicion. From Liz’s reaction to her questions, Maria felt that Michael was somehow rather unpopular in Roswell. A headline buzzed passed and Maria suddenly sat up straight, released the dial that advanced the film. Slowly, so she wouldn’t lose the page again, she turned the dial in the opposite direction, watched the sports and entertainment pages drift by lazily. A Garfield cartoon. A sale at Allen’s Alien Artworks. Then the front page. Maria’s heart stopped momentarily, her breath catching in her chest. Beneath the headline, there was a picture of Michael, hair spiky and unruly, being shoved into the back of a police cruiser. One of the policemen had his hand on the top of Michael’s head and his neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle. Both of the officers had looks of utter disdain on their faces, but it was the look on Michael’s face that bore holes into Maria’s heart. His eyes were clenched shut and his mouth seemed to be open in a silent scream for mercy, for help. But there was no one to come to his aid. The headline above the picture read, “Local Teen Gets Life For Foster-Father Slaying.” |
| PART 5 |