"Little Lizzie Parker," Max sing-songed while sorting through the contents of the manilla envelope. "This has got to be the saddest job I've ever taken."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"She's just some harmless little co-ed who probably wouldn't hurt a fly. Says right here she graduated on honor roll and is currently studying at the University of New Mexico to be a…" Max paused to read, "molecular biologist."
"Why couldn't they have just written down her address or something?"
"I don't know," Max groaned as he sifted through the massive stack of papers. "Must've photocopied her file or something. Probably weren't even discreet about it. My guess is Isabel probably brought it down to Kinko's."
"Yeah, that sounds like Isabel, all right. How'd she look anyway? She still fine as hell?" he grinned lazily.
"You wanna watch it? That's my sister you're talking about!" Max snapped, agitated beyond words. It would take him quite a while to get over today's little meeting and the unwanted issues that had surfaced. Seemed as if Max had spent his entire life trying to bury those secrets only to have Isabel dig them up and throw them in his face. Typical, he thought bitterly. She never did let me forget.
"Hey, it was just a question, man!" Terry shot back defensively. "You don't gotta get all worked up over it!"
"Well she hasn't put on fifty pounds if that's what you're asking," Max grumbled, though his voice had softened slightly.
"So what do you think of this Guerin guy then?"
Max's eyes flashed at the mention of that name. "Total asshole. Definitely undeserving and unworthy of her. Once this is over and done with I'm just going to have to talk her out of it, I suppose," he reasoned aloud.
"Why should you give a shit? I haven't even heard you say her name in years."
"It's not like I want to give a shit," Max explained honestly. "She sure as hell doesn't deserve that but-- she's the only blood relation I have. That has to count for something, doesn't it?" Despite how much time had passed Isabel was still his sister and still one of few things Max actually held dear. He'd lied when he said he'd forgotten her. Of course, Max had figured that in her absence he'd grow distant and eventually move on but there wasn't a single minute of a single day since her departure that he hadn't thought of her. Worried about her.
Terry could sense Max's frustration and decided to change the subject. "So… University of New Mexico, huh? Where is that, Santa Fe?"
"Albuquerque," Max whispered, still consumed with thoughts of Isabel.
"Molecular biologist… honor roll… hell, this bitch must be a total nerd," Terry concluded. He started to laugh but ended up having a small coughing fit.
"As opposed to you?" Max grumbled, annoyed again. He reached over and yanked Terry's half smoked joint from his lips.
"Hey!" Terry complained, trying to swipe it back from Max's hand.
"You want to keep you're head clear for once in your life? What if the maid were to walk in later on and smell that shit all over the room? We could get arrested, jackass!" Max reprimanded harshly. It was hard to control his temper in such a frame of mind with Terry nearby.
"We're in fuckin' Motel 6, Max! This ain't the Plaza. People probably blaze here every thirty seconds! Besides," he propped his head back against the pillow and said in a cocksure manner, "I doubt the maid would be ratting on us anytime soon."
"Oh and why is that?"
"Cause I showed Angelica a very nice time while you was off doin' your shit."
"That so?" Max smirked knowingly but then sighed, returning to his previous disposition. "Well, I doubt that anyone else would be so forgiving so do me a favor and cut the crap."
"Fine," Terry complied cautiously, now fully aware of his friend's downcast mood. "Okay, Max-" Terry began, his voice taking on a very forward tone that was quite rare for him. "-I gotta ask you something."
"Ask away," was the distracted reply. Max was currently pondering the significance of a list of Liz Parker's out-of-state relatives.
"What is the big deal here?"
Max looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean shouldn't you be relieved or something? I know that you made it seem to us like you didn't really care but haven't you been wonderin' where she been all these years?"
"Yes! Of course I have but I sure as hell didn't expect it to be like this!" Max nearly growled in irritation. "I figured she'd call me and then we'd meet so we could talk things over. Reestablish our relationship. And then I thought it might be nice if we took a trip back home just to let our friends know that she's alive!"
"At least now you know she's alive," Terry shrugged.
"Christ, I don't even know why I bother with you," Max moaned, placing his head in his hands.
"Max, y'know what you need?"
"What?" he asked exasperatedly, his head still sandwiched between his palms.
"A beer. Naw, wait, I got plenty more shit in my suitcase," he offered brightly but Max had already stood up and was heading for the door.
"Aw, come on! You gotta have a little fun sometimes. You're like the straightest guy in the whole universe, Max! I mean--no wonder you're so stressed. You never let yourself relax, man! Why don't you live a little?"
Max stopped short and turned around. "I believe I do just fine sober and make more money than the rest of you dumbshits who probably blow it all on whatever the hell it is you're snorting nowadays!"
"Oh you 'believe', do you? So now you 'believe' you're better than us? Yeah, that's you, Max. You always thought you was better than us, huh? No don't deny it, mother fucker!" he shouted as Max slammed the door behind him.
Max couldn't deny it. He was better. He could've been something. Even though he'd gone for quite a while without even the slightest hint of regret it was Isabel's leaving that had made him begin to re-evaluate his life. He'd pushed it away into back of his mind more times that he'd would've liked but he couldn't stop himself from thinking it now. My life is just one big fat regret, he lamented quietly in the hotel hallway, his head against the wall.
But then again Max had never had the easy life. It was easy to see how he ended up the way he was. As far as he knew he and Isabel had just… appeared. They'd emerged from some goey, slimy womb/egg thing, (Isabel liked to call it a "pod",) about sixteen years ago not knowing a word of English, where they were, where they'd come from or even where to go. All they'd known was each other. And so they'd held hands and walked… and walked… and walked…
* Flashback: Sixteen years back, Roswell, New Mexico*
They walked for nearly three days without anybody finding them. It was hot along the desert road. It was sweltering. And tiresome. Around the third day their march finally came to a standstill when Isabel suddenly let go of his hand and fell to the ground. She was a miserable sight. A poor little girl sitting on her hands and knees in the dirt and staring straight ahead with a look of hopelessness in her eyes. Max stared at her tears in awe and touched her eyelids to try to understand the wet streaks that lay on her face. Isabel then let out a sound, a shriek that scared them both even more than her tears had. She kept wiping her face and whimpering, each noise making her cry more and each tear making her wipe harder.
Finally Max had grabbed her arms and brought her to his chest, guessing that the action would be soothing and fortunately, it worked. The two grasped the idea that physical contact could be used for comfort and clung to each other tightly until Isabel's sobs had subsided. She finally released him, quite red in the face that she'd caused such a commotion. Max wanted to do something to assure her that he didn't mind… that he found it natural… and then felt the corners of his mouth turn up.
Isabel leapt back, startled. Max's hands immediately shot up to cover his mouth. Isabel's hand went to her own and she played with her lips, pulling them up and down, trying to recreate the phenomenon that Max had so easily accomplished. Max found that so entertaining that he couldn't help himself from doing it again, this time the smile so wide it stretched from ear to ear. Isabel released her upper lip and scrutinized him in deep concentration. Before she knew it she was doing it too. They beamed at each other like idiots until Max realized it was necessary to get going again.
Pointing north with his index finger Max gestured for her to come. She frowned and waved her hand in effort to disagree. He raised his eyebrows as if to try to ask why and then she began to cry again. He went to hug her but she pushed him away this time and rubbed her hands on her stomach in a circular motion to try to express what she feeling.
Isabel was hungry but she didn't know how to fix it.
Max was so confused that he just stood there and Isabel grew impatient at his lack of response. She rubbed her stomach harder, more insistently and then reached for her throat, rubbing it up and down to try to signify that it was dry.
And suddenly Max began to understand. He too was weak and disoriented from the lack of nutrition and water. But he still didn't know what to do about it. All he knew was that he wanted her to feel better and so he reached out for her stomach and placed his hand on it, theorizing that if physical touch had worked before, it should work again.
What happened was completely unexpected.
A soft glow emanated from his touch and Isabel stopped crying. She closed her eyes and inhaled as a warmth emerged in her belly and spread throughout her entire body. The emptiness inside her began to fade until she felt full and bursting with energy. Max could actually feel her growing well but he could also feel himself growing weak. When he finally finished Isabel leapt to her feet, hopping in jubilation. But she stopped when she noticed Max bent over and gasping, small beads of sweat breaking out from the rim of his forehead.
She bent down to help him, her face flooded with concern and Max nudged her away before a pile of strange white liquid spewed forth from his mouth. Isabel wrinkled her nose at the vomit and moved back further. Max sat back and sucked in small puffs of air to stop himself from shaking so vehemently. What it happening? they both thought in unison. Only there was no way to say the words aloud. Luckily for them, however, they had substitutes.
Isabel sat in front of her brother and reached for his hand, connecting with Max to assure him of her appreciation and her empathy. Max felt her emotions and returned them, smiling weakly to show his reciprocation. She pulled him to his feet and eyed his stomach uncertainly. He held out his hands to stop her but, of course, she'd already had her mind set on it. With a look of utter determination she cautiously moved her little palm to his stomach and pressed against it just like he had done before… only nothing happened this time.
Frowning at the inactivity Isabel pressed harder. Still… nothing happened. She tried again and again before letting out a furious little squeak and hopping up and down. Max began to sit down again but she was not going to give up so easily. It took a little over thirty minutes for Isabel to finally get it right. She didn't do it very well and it didn't completely relieve him as he had to her but nevertheless, Max did feel a little better after her mere attempt. And he got his strength back. Enough to walk again, anyway.
They didn't have to walk for very long. By the time the sun had set Isabel and Max suddenly stopped in synchronous time. Their eyes widened and their ears perked at the hum of an engine from a near distance. Then two bright white blotches appeared, gleaming out of a black background that could very possibly be the towering mass of some foreign creature. They debated whether or not they should run but they could only stare, like a couple of deer… frozen in the headlights.
Philip Evans swerved to the side of the road, unable to believe his own eyes. His wife, Dianne, gripped the sides of the car seat as her head bucked forward and then sideways. Fortunately, no one was hurt. He waited a moment before he opened the door and stepped out of the car. Dianne followed.
Isabel and Max didn't dare move. They were too frightened yet intrigued at the taller forms before them.
"What are they doing there?" Philip wondered aloud.
Assuming the question was for her, Dianne replied, "How should I know?" She took a closer look at the two. They were definitely among, if not, the most beautiful children she'd ever seen. The girl had the face of an angel: sweet chocolate-colored eyes above a tiny button nose, all framed by a luxurious, long golden mane that was probably as soft as it looked. And the boy was absolutely adorable with his full baby cheeks and big puppy-dog eyes; it took all she had it her not to run to him at that moment and squeeze him merciless. They still weren't moving but at least they were breathing. "Oh, Phil," she began, her voice already cracking with sympathy, "who would let those poor kids walk around with no clothes on and in… god, the middle of nowhere like that?"
It's upset, Isabel realized just a second before Max did. The liquid was falling from its eyes just as it had from Isabel's earlier. This comforted Isabel, allowing her a way to relate to what had been a threat just a moment before. Max however, was alarmed. What's wrong with it? he wondered. What did we do to it to make it feel bad? What if it wants to hurt us?
"Calm down, Dianne," Philip told her. "There's probably a logical explanation for this. I mean no one just dumps their children off in the middle of the desert. They probably ran away."
"And took their clothes off before doing so!" Dianne argued. She grimaced with realization. "I mean what if… what if some pedophile got to them and… did something to them? Raped them and just threw them out here to die!"
"God, I hope not," Philip whispered. The possibilities of how things came about were pretty horrific. All he knew was that he needed to find out what happened and hopefully help them. He cautiously took a step forward only to have them scurry backward. Smiling to relax the two he focused his eyes on Max, "Son?"
"Honey?" Dianne added, nodding at Isabel with encouragement. The girl was still skeptical and her doubt showed in the way her little face was glum with indecision. The boy was giving them a look that was almost… defiant but his lip was trembling, telling her he wasn't as brave as he wanted to seem. "Phil, they're scared to death," she muttered knowingly.
"They don't look hurt," he told her, a little relieved at the fact.
"Sweetheart?" Dianne coaxed, holding out her hand.
Isabel stared at the hand, mystified. It looked just like the one she had, only it was larger and had longer, red colored tips when hers were clear and short. The color was also a little darker, more peach than cream and she could see a few lines on it that hers certainly didn't have. Maybe it's sick, she pondered. What does it want from me? she questioned, noticing the hand was still in front of her.
I think it expects something from you, Max sent back to her telepathically.
Isabel's cautiously raised her arm and pointed her hand back at it and to her horror it grabbed hers with its own and squeezed.
Max let out an infuriated little snarl and yanked Isabel away from the stranger's grasp.
"We're not going to hurt you!" Dianne cried out. "We want to help you!"
"Dianne, they're traumatized," Philip grabbed her shoulders. "We have to get help."
"And how are we supposed to do that when we can't even get them into the car?"
Watching them Isabel found that they didn't look very scary. They looked worried and nervous and she was beginning to believe that they were harmless. She communicated that to Max and she found his thoughts weren't that far off.
Philip and Dianne were currently working out a plan on which one would stay when the other would drive off for help when they realized the children were now standing right in front of them with their hands and arms held out in wide in the open.
And that was how Max and Isabel had come to be with the Evans.
* Flashback: One year later, Ontario, California*
"Max, come on!" Isabel tugged insistently on the sleeve of his t-shirt. By then the two had learned English and even though it used to come out a little slurred, they were getting better and better at it everyday.
"Later," Max mumbled, staring at the television screen on which the road runner had just outsmarted the chayote yet again.
"Come on, Max!" she tugged harder and waved her hand across his face.
"Is, I'm busy," he whined, pushing her hand away.
"You're always busy!" she groaned, waving her chubby little arms around her in exaggerated hostility. "You're out on the bike and then you're trying to read some book and then you're eating and now you're watching tv! We got more important things to do!"
"No, we don't," Max argued, trying to block out the sound of her voice by covering his ears with his hands.
Yes we do! We have to practice our powers! her voice popped up in his head.
"Stop that! I hate it when you do that!" Max exclaimed, tossing a pillow at her.
I learned a new one yesterday, she ignored his protests. I left my popsicle out and it started to melt but I got it to freeze again. I can freeze all sorts of things now. We don't even need the ice trays anymore! Come on, you got to try it!
"I don't have to try anything!" Max tossed another pillow her way, which she again caught before it hit. "You shouldn't be doing that anyway. Someone might see you and it's not right. It's weird."
"What's weird is that you never want to do it with me anymore!" Isabel fussed, tossing the pillow back at him. "Why have you stopped? Why are you being so mean?"
"Isabel, have you ever seen anybody else do it?" Max asked her, patiently. She reluctantly shook her head. "Then it's weird," he explained before turning away from her and resuming his seat on the couch. Isabel shot dirty looks at him from behind but he pretended he didn't know she there. She ended up stomping away from him, each footstep louder than the first and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
*End Flashback.*
But that was before the Evans' unexpected car accident and death… before he and Isabel had been dumped into a multitude of crappy foster homes… before when Max had actually been a pretty bright kid and Isabel had been a fairly-happy one. But being thrown into a whole new environment had a whole new set of rules and Max found there was a new definition of "cool" over there. Before long he had succumbed to peer pressure and all the glories that came with it. He couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed all of it. The money… the sex… the overwhelming sense of respect he received when he walked into a room. But Isabel hadn't approved.
* Flashback: Seven years back, Compton, California*
Max lay back with his arms behind his head, in awe of all that had just transpired. Max Evans had just, for lack of better wording, gotten laid. For the first time too, which made it all the more special. It had been the most exciting and pleasurable thing that had ever happened to him. Probably the best part was that right after it had happened, she'd climbed right off him, thanked him with a quick kiss and left immediately. No strings attached. Max knew he could have her and it again any time he wanted. But maybe I should try out a couple of the others first, he grinned at the thought. After all there are plenty in line, and more than willing.
"Max!" Isabel bellowed as she burst into the room. "Why did that slut Jennifer Davis just go out the front door with her shirt half-unbuttoned! What the hell was she doing here?!"
"Isabel! Jesus Christ!" Max yelped as he grabbed the blanket and covered himself and his equipment.
"Oh this is no time for modesty, Max, I've seen it all before! Tell me what happened!"
"Well, what do you think happened?" Max scoffed back at her with his teeth clenched.
"You slept with her?!" Isabel gasped in a mixture of panic and appallment. "That slut? That tease? God, Max I think you'll have to get yourself tested. No, wait-" she paused in realization, "I think she's in more trouble than you are! Max, how could you do that with her not knowing what could happen? What if she gets sick? What if she dies? What if people find out about us-"
"Isabel, will you calm down!" he interrupted. "Nothing is going to happen. We are not different! There is no spaceship coming back for us to whisk us off to some other goddamn planet! Just face it, Isabel, we are stuck in shit and we might as well make the best of it!"
"How can you say that?" Isabel blinked back tears at the pain of his words. "Deny everything that we are… everything I believe in and everything we're supposed to believe in together? Do you have any idea how much that hurts me? I feel like you just stabbed me in the back, Max!"
"Oh God, Isabel," Max sat up, remorseful immediately. "I'm sorry I said that but y'know," he tossed his hands in the air in helplessness, "it's what I believe."
"Well, I don't even know who you are anymore," she whispered, taking a few fumbling steps backward. "You're not even a shred of the person you used to be." Her eyes darted from his face, across his bedroom and landed on his bureau. She suddenly reached out and yanked the middle drawer open.
"Don't touch anything!" Max yelled in desperation, already pulling his boxers up his legs.
"Oh you mean this?" Isabel smiled at him bitterly, holding up a small plastic bag. "I suppose you're going to tell me this is sugar or something." With a quick motion of her hand across the bag she met his eyes and said, "Well, now it is. But you can't blame me because I'm no different than anybody else, remember? Too bad you can't change it back because you're not different. Or maybe you just don't want to try."
"Holy shit, Isabel!" Max blustered, tearing the bag from her fingers. "Do you have any idea how much money you just cost me?"
"I don't know and I don't care," she snapped at him. "My brother the drug-dealer," she muttered miserably, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.
"Isabel, it's not like I do it. It's just a way to make a living."
"'A way to make a living'?! That's rich." she snorted. "What would our parents say?"
"Well, what about them?!" Max shouted, deeply wounded at her mentioning them. "In case you haven't noticed, they're not here! All we have is Frank and Linda and those assholes hardly recognize that we exist! If it weren't for me, for this-" he thrust the bag in her face, "-you wouldn't be wearing the expensive outfit you're wearing right now. You wouldn't have all the nice things that I get you and you wouldn't be able to do all the things this money lets you do! I take care of us, Isabel. Whether you like it or not this takes care of us and I have no intention of stopping until we're out of here for good!"
"Well, you know what I don't care about the clothes! Not if that's how you're making the money to get them!" Isabel stood up and met him face to face, her voice so hard it gave him goosebumps. "And I don't need you to take care of me. I don't need this," she spat out the word distastefully, "to take care of me. Someday I'm going to find home, Max. And I'm going to leave, with or without you but definitely without this!" And then she left the room.
Needless to say Max stopped selling the drugs. He got into armed robbery instead. At least for the meanwhile.
*End Flashback.*
"Hey Max, you okay?"
Max opened his eyes to see Terry kneeling in front of him, an apologetic look upon his face.
"I'm good," Max grunted. He looked around him and asked, "How long have I been out here?"
"I guess maybe an hour," Terry estimated. He stuck out his hand and pulled Max to his feet.
"I can't believe I almost passed out in the hallway," Max muttered as they walked in the room.
"Well you drove for two days straight so I was surprised you didn't pass out way before that," he told him.
"Yeah," Max agreed half-heartedly. "I should be getting to bed."
"Hey, did you check all of the file yet?"
"Nah, I'll do it tomorrow," Max sighed decidedly before lying back on his bed.
Terry went to his own and fished around the covers for something.
"What are you looking for?" Max asked, his eyelids already drooping.
"'Little Lizzie's' picture," Terry replied. "I found it when you was gone behind the suitcase. Guess it musta slipped out. Ah-hah!" he cried out in victory. "You gotta see her, Max. She ain't as nerdy as I thought she'd be." He held up the picture so that it hovered over Max's closed eyes. "Max!" he repeated loudly.
Max's eyes opened. They opened wider. And then they stayed open. He sat up slowly and took the picture from Terry's hand. And then he stared at it in astonishment.
"Max?" Terry asked worriedly after over a minute had passed. "Max? Ma-a-a-x? YO, MAX?!"
Max didn't answer him. Max was too far gone.