"Beneath the Reflection"
He shifted irritably on the lumpy couch, feeling every single metal spring digging into his back. The room was dark, only the fluorescent golden glow of the street lamp providing any illumination. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to calm himself. Sleep had been elusive for weeks now. When he did sleep, he dreamed. His memories of those dreams were disjointed, fragmented, but always with an underlying current of loss and fear. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale, exhale. Let your mind flow into a pool of tranq-the hell with it.
Jerking himself up, he threw off the heavy blankets and swung his feet to the floor. The carpet was rough against his bare feet. He brushed a hand against his forehead, feeling the slickness of his sweat against his skin. It was thirty degrees out and he was hot. He was no longer human. By the very act of saving his life, Max Evans had taken it away.
He rose to his feet and stomped over to the kitchen. He didn't bother trying to keep the noise down. Tess and his father could sleep through anything. He didn't bother to flick on the light and simply headed for the fridge. The whiteness of the appliance glowed in the murky darkness. He yanked the door open and stood for a moment, letting the cool air brush against the unprotected skin of his legs. Mulling over his choices, he reached in and grabbed the carton of orange juice. Automatically he began looking for a glass. Stupid Tess, drumming out all the acceptable male traits. He was a regular wussy now.
Unscrewing the plastic cap, he tilted the carton and watched as the pale liquid spilled into the cup. The only sounds in the night were the tiny splashes the juice made as it swirled against the glass. When it reached an acceptable level, he screwed the cap back on. He stared at the glass for a moment and then abruptly lifted it, taking a large sip. The cold liquid slid down his throat. Damn it. He slammed the drink on the table and pulled open the fridge again.
His fingers curled around the thin glass neck of a bottle on the door. He pulled it out and looked at it, scowling. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he moved back to the table, popping open the bottle in his hands. He upended it over the juice and watched as the juice darkened. If there had been light, he knew the liquid would look more like tomato juice than orange. He set the tabasco back on the table and took another sip of his drink.
The acidic flavor rippled across his tongue and it combined with the spiciness of the tabasco to send flames licking the back of his throat. It was one of the best things he'd ever tasted. Damn Max Evans!
Max had known. He slumped down in a kitchen chair and rested his forehead on his hands. His thoughts had been dancing around the memory all night. The intent look in Max's eyes, the twisting feeling in his own gut, the heaviness of the alien crystal in his hand. He could see the struggle in Max's mind as he debated between being honest and giving false comfort. In the end, the truth had won. I can't promise that. Max had known. Max had known that he'd included Tess in the deal. He'd known and Tess hadn't.
He could still remember the way she looked, slightly huddled in the door of the kitchen, her voice wavering slightly as she told him that she would be leaving. His heart had clenched and his fingers had convulsively closed on the counter behind him. It was the only way he could keep from reaching out to her. Then she had started talking about how it was alright for him to need to protect his family and how she understood it. He could only stand there, openmouthed, staring at her while she babbled on. She hadn't known.
She didn't know how he'd come to expect her to be the first person he saw in the morning. She didn't know how sometimes he'd wander into her room at night, just to make sure she wasn't having another nightmare. How he actually liked going shopping with her because she was girlish enough to enjoy it, but not in the Isabel Evans, 24-hour Mall surveillance way. How he liked seeing her prance around in his jersey and not just because of the way it showed off her legs. How he loved giving her shoulder massages, just so he could feel her muscles liquefy beneath his hands. How her smile caused his body to jerk with electricity.
And she didn't know. He drained the rest of his juice and pushed his chair back. A loud scraping sound broke the silence of the night. He froze and listened carefully. There was a light snuffling sound that he recognized as Tess. Of his father, there was no sign. Exhaling deeply, he walked over to the sink, his feet making little slapping sounds against the tiled floor. Telling Tess that he considered her part of his family had been one of the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. What if she walked away from him again? He didn't have the best track record for keeping women.
Liz had been his first serious girlfriend. Until Max had stepped in and saved her life. Changing her. Taking her away from him. Then Tess rolled into town. Because of Max. Why did his life seem to revolve around Max's? Why was his fate never his own? Yet, so far, had it been truly horrible? He'd never been closer with a group of people like he'd been with the others since he'd learned the truth. His relationship with his father had gotten so much better. For once, he and his father shared something that no one else could interfere with. And then there was Tess.
He slowly walked back into the living room and blinked. The shadows seemed to have lightened. Glancing out the window, he caught the slight hint of rose fire in the sky. He'd been meditating for longer than he thought. And what had he come up with? Jackshit, that's what. It was all Max's fault.
He sighed. A sigh. He'd definitely been living with Tess too long. Funny thing was, he couldn't see himself living any other way. He plopped down on the couch again and stretched out, intending on getting comfortable to obsess some more. Another metal spring dug into his back and he thought longingly of his soft bed. Tess's bed. Oh, that was a much more pleasant image. Add himself to the picture and hmm....
Tess crept out of her room to grab a drink from the kitchen. She stopped
on the way to scowl down at him. He was sprawled out on the couch, a doofy
grin on his face. Sure, she tossed and turned all night, wrestling over
him and her feelings for him, and he was dead to the world. Men. Couldn't
live with them and couldn't...nope, only couldn't live with them.
She stomped off to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, leaving a happily
dreaming Kyle on the couch.
End