Chapter 10
Waiting for Isabel in the Crashdown, Tess kept herself occupied by talking to Michael, who was slumped against the counter. Michael surveyed the mostly empty restaurant. There weren't even any waitresses on duty; the new girl was late, so Mr. Parker was keeping an eye on the dining room until she arrived.
"I hate slow days," he mumbled to no one.
"I thought you hated busy days," Tess responded.
"I do. I hate slow days, busy days, and all of the other days," Michael finished in a sigh as he stared off at the wall behind Tess.
She smiled at his grumbling.
"You're just not happy if you don't have something to complain about. I mean, look at me—I've been waiting for—" Tess checked her watch "-fifteen minutes, and Isabel still isn't here. You don't hear me whining."
Michael cast a quick glance at Tess upon hearing Isabel's name.
"Oh, you're meeting Isabel?" He tried to sound uninterested. He tried to imitate the way he'd sound if he were talking about the War of 1812 or shoes.
"Yeah, she called last night."
Tess could see Michael's jaw harden, perhaps even twitch ever so slightly. She wondered what had happened; Isabel sounded okay on the phone.
"Last night," Michael confirmed.
"Yep, last night. It was kind of late, too. Strange, huh?" Tess smiled, watching Michael's reaction. Isabel had called at eight, but Michael didn't need to know that.
Michael's Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed.
"No, not weird at all. Isabel…she's a night owl. Never sleeps. Sounds pretty normal to me." Michael avoided Tess's probing looks; she wasn't getting anything out of him.
Tess began to speak again, but the sound of the door drew both aliens' attention. Isabel walked through the door, all confidence and smiles. But, a slight furrow of her brow as her eyes landed on them and an almost imperceptible catch in her gait as she gauged the situation betrayed her hesitance—at least to Tess.
"I need to bag onion rings. Dinner rush gets rough," Michael explained weakly as he turned to the kitchen. He didn't wait for a reply from Tess.
Isabel gestured Tess over to a booth, and the two girls slid in, one on either side.
"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen Michael run from anything before. You must have made quite an impression on him last night," Tess said the words playfully, but her meaning was clear. Isabel leaned closer to Tess, all pretense of normalcy now gone.
"He told you?" Isabel half demanded.
"No," Tess smiled. "But I was hoping you would. What's going on? What happened?"
Isabel leaned back in her seat, her expression softening. "Nothing happened…" Isabel began, but at Tess's clearly unconvinced look, she continued. "Michael wanted to show me something. The memories he retrieved in the desert."
Tess remained silent, waiting for Isabel to continue.
"So…he showed them to me. And then he went home. End of story. Have you ordered yet?" Isabel picked up a menu and feigned examining it. Tess mentally replayed Isabel's brief version of events, trying to find the right question.
"How did he show them to you?"
Isabel didn't meet Tess's eyes.
"Through…contact."
"Contact?"
"Physical contact."
"Physical?" Tess raised her eyebrows and smiled.
Isabel dropped the menu and leaned in again. "We kissed. Once. For the memories."
Tess's eyes widened, and she tried, poorly, to suppress her grin. She cast a quick glance across the restaurant at Michael, who was clearly doing his best impression of cooking.
"But that whole 'destiny' thing—it's just meaningless, right?" Tess was enjoying the moment far too much.
"It's not destiny. There's no big meaning behind this. It's just me and Michael and…and we're trying to remember whatever we can. That's all."
Tess's grin dissolved slightly, disbelief clear in her arched brow.
"Fine. Deny it. All of you keep denying it, keep making yourselves miserable," Tess paused for a moment, willing Isabel to meet her gaze.
"I'm not mis—"
"Don't tell me you've never felt drawn to Michael, or that you've never felt connected to him." Isabel started to interrupt, but Tess continued, anticipating her argument. "And not like Max, not like a brother. Michael was separated from you, right? When you were kids? That's how you and Max ended up adopted and Michael ended up...where he was." Isabel grimaced. She wasn't sure how much Tess knew about Hank. "Did you cry every night? Were you always looking over your shoulder, waiting for him?" Isabel tried to recall what she had and had not told Tess- how much was known fact and how much was speculation.
"That's not fair. I would have done the same if it had been Max."
"But what about me? I was gone. You didn't know I was missing."
Isabel looked down, unable to meet Tess's blue eyes.
"I'm not asking for pity. I remembered who you were, but I didn't cry for you, either; Nasedo wouldn't have allowed it. Do you really think that wandering in the desert together when you were children is what bonded you to either of them? You're connected to Max—in this life- because he was your brother before just like he is now. When we met and you found out who I was, you knew I belonged with all of you because some part of you remembered me. How are you connected to Michael? How did you remember him all of those years until you found him again?" Tess's stare remained focused. After a long, quiet moment, Isabel lifted her head.
"I don't know. I can't—"Isabel stopped, took a deep breath. "I love Max. I love Michael. Max is my brother, and Michael…isn't." Isabel paused, swallowed hard. "When you came, I didn't know what you were; all I knew was that you were different. When I saw Michael for the first time… this is stupid," Isabel shook her head, embarrassed.
"No, it's not," Tess pleaded. "When I met you and Michael, I knew who you were. It was like finding a family I didn't know I had or even wanted. I had Nasedo; until then, he was my family. But, when I saw Max…when I looked into his eyes- even though I had to watch him love someone else- I felt like I was home. Every time I'm with him, I still feel that. It's exciting and powerful but familiar at the same time. Maybe we're not destined to be together, but I wouldn't throw away all of these things I've just started feeling to prove that destiny doesn't exist."
Isabel didn't know how to respond to Tess's honesty, laid plain before her, other than with the truth.
Isabel spoke quietly, "Sometimes I wonder if he's something else, but I don't know. I don't know if this is me or if it's what someone out there wants me to feel. The more I learn about who I am and what I've done, the more I think…," she braced herself, as Tess listened intently. "The more I think it doesn't matter. The more I think it's the same thing."
Music filled the void as the two girls sat silently across from one another, Isabel absently examining the ketchup bottle while Tess watched shadows flicker across the leg of the table next to theirs.
Behind the heated window, Michael watched the conversation unfold. When Isabel had first arrived, he had retreated to the kitchen. It was work, so he ought to be working, right? No shame in that. Plus, whatever awkward conversation awaited him and Isabel probably would not be one that Tess should be part of. He could only imagine what ideas she would have on the topic of him and Isabel and…kissing. He hoped the girls would eat fast and get out. Until then, he would be a wall, and nothing the girls said—and no matter how much Tess stared—would faze him. He was a burger-flipping, fryer-dipping wall of emotionless hybrid concrete.
At least, that was Michael's plan until a word that sounded very much like his name coming out of Isabel's mouth caught his ear. He snuck a sideways glance at their table, but, balancing curiosity and his need to stay relatively unseen, he only managed to glimpse Tess's intense stare and her combative posture. Michael couldn't view Isabel's face from his position by the grill, but he could tell from her lowered head and the set of her shoulders that she was the one under attack. Unbidden, the flash of an image—Vilandra, death, falling—caught Michael off-guard. He gripped the spatula more tightly.
The door jangled open as Maria hurried through, uniform in hand. Michael was certain it was the new girl's shift, but there Maria was, in a buzzing, lavender-scented flurry. She eyed Michael with both longing and utter hatred as she passed him. Fate—that force which caused Maria to work every shift Michael worked and ensured Tess spoke to Isabel before he could— did not appear to be Michael Guerin's friend. Mr. Parker posted a to-go order, and Michael started laying out the chicken tenders and onion rings. Meanwhile, Isabel rose from the booth and Tess followed her out the door. Maria paused at the swinging door to the back room.
"Did they even eat?"
Michael grunted a nonreply.
"So, been busy? Gettin' hot back there yet?" Maria leaned into the window, avoiding the heat lamps at the top of the frame.
"It's 105 degrees outside, and I'm spending all afternoon hanging over a grill. Of course it's hot back here."
Maria rolled her eyes in exaggerated disgust.
"You don't have to get snippy."
"Guys don't get snippy," Michael huffed in what he realized probably was a snippy tone. "Don't you have work to do? Something about waitressing? Or did you only come here to bother me?"
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm here because Courtney called in—again. If that girl calls in again, it better because her skin is literally falling off of her body," Maria turned around sharply and marched away, grabbing a mustard bottle that probably didn't need to be refilled as she went.
Dinner service picked up as the heat drove customers inside, and Michael silently thanked whoever was listening for answering his prayers. Half an hour before close, the restaurant had mostly emptied out. Maria was jamming a broom underneath tables while the restaurant's only customer, an old man in dusty overalls, finished eating a burger painfully slowly while reading a newspaper. Michael had already started cleaning the kitchen when a voice called over the bar.
"Hey…Michael?"
Michael was kneeling beneath the island in the kitchen as he tried to restack cans of ketchup on a low rack.
"Yeah?" He looked up. "Oh."
Max stood by the stools. He looked flushed and tired, and he was still wearing his dorky uniform from the UFO center.
"Maria said you were back here. She said it wasn't too late to get something to take home."
Michael exhaled heavily as he stood up. "I'll bet she did."
"I only want a shake, but Isabel wanted an order of fries," Max half-smiled, "and a cherry Coke."
Michael turned and grabbed a bag of fries from the freezer and dropped them in the fryer. He stood for a moment, staring at the bubbling oil. He wasn't in the mood to fight with Max. He didn't even want to talk to him. He willed Max to remain silent behind him.
"Busy night?"
Not all prayers, it seemed, would be answered tonight.
Michael turned and looked at his friend.
"Not too bad." Michael was tempted to turn his back on Max again, but the image of Isabel, laughing and teasing him about his card cheating a few nights earlier while Max smiled along in a rare moment of levity, held him to his place. "How was work?
"Kind of…boring. I think I almost fell asleep in a pile of rubber asteroids."
Michael smiled at the image.
"Better be careful—that's a highly sought-after job, y'know?"
Max nodded his agreement, and the two fell into a semi-awkward silence.
"So…Isabel's at home?" Max nodded. "Tess with her?" Max nodded again.
"I think she's spending the night."
"That must be loads of fun."
"It's not bad. She's there to see Isabel, not me."
Michael half-snorted at Max's claim.
"Yeah, you're just background noise in the world of Tess Harding. I wish I was that good at lying to myself."
Max's expression of neutral friendliness faltered.
"Tess knows how I feel about her." Max glanced at Maria as she passed by. "And I would say you're probably pretty good at lying to yourself by now."
"Really? You think so? Well, tell me, how exactly do you think of Tess? " Michael didn't know why he was picking a fight, but he couldn't let it go. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was Max's insinuation that Michael was in denial when it came to his non-relationship with Maria.
"She's a friend. I care about her because she's a friend and she's one of us. We have to stick together, but I don't have to love her," Max coolly explained; Michael thought he only sounded vaguely patronizing.
"When Tess first came here, you thought she was warping your mind because after five minutes together you were willing to forget all about Liz—" Michael knew he shouldn't have said the "L" word "—and say that you couldn't control yourself around her. What happened to all that stuff? Did that magically go away when Liz left, or are you just too stubborn, or maybe afraid, to do what Liz wanted and act on it?"
"Michael," Max's voice was commanding now, but he hadn't been pushed to anger yet. "What I do is none of your business. You don't know what you're talking about."
Michael was upset now—about what, he wasn't quite sure.
"Then tell me I'm wrong. Tell me some part of you still doesn't want Tess."
"The alien part wants her, not the human part."
Michael leaned back, slightly smug.
"That's still part of you. It's the part we try to figure out every time we go out into the damn desert in the middle of the day. It's the part that might save our lives if whatever signal we sent out two months ago was actually received by someone out there. How do you even know there is a separate human part and alien part? Isn't it possible they're mixed together and could work together?"
"I appreciate your concern, but being with Tess isn't going to help us if we have enemies looking for us."
"No, but being happy might."
Max let a grim smile flash across his features, defusing some of Michael's mounting frustration. "Since when did you become so concerned about my well-being?"
"Since you started avoiding us. You're right—we're stronger together, and moping around won't help any of us."
"You sound like Isabel."
Michael smiled in spite of himself.
"Bound to happen eventually."
Max smiled back and started to say something when the timer sounded behind Michael, alerting him that the fries were done. Glad for an escape before the conversation took any unexpected, Isabel-related turns, Michael stalked back into the kitchen to finish the order.