Deal
by
Disclaimer: I disclaim. I don't own anything. Melinda Metz and Jason Katims own all, the WB, Fox, maybe even UPN own some portion. I'm not them!
Author's Note: I think that Isabel didn't really deal with Alex's death in the show. So, what better time to handle it than... summer?
Warning: Discussions of suicidal thoughts throughout this chapter.
Summary: It's summer 2001, and though Alex was killed weeks ago, Isabel Evans hasn't had the time to process and deal with her grief. What will her summer be like?
Rating: By chapter.
Chapter Five- PG-13
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I have to apologize to Michael. I search him out all morning at school, which I go to simply to assure my parents that I'm not going to do anything again, but he's not there. Either that, or he's on the lookout, avoiding me. I hope not, I didn't mean to hurt him.
I guess I know now what's different between him and Maria, though, since my statement struck such a nerve earlier.
Right now, I'm pretty okay. It's weird how it comes and goes, how the intensity of the feelings wanes with the day and feels pretty God-damn insurmountable during the night. Being tired intensifies it.
I have to go see a shrink. It won't help with all of my alien issues, but surprise! I'm actually hoping maybe he or she can help me deal with Alex's death, since that's something I'm obviously not doing very well.
I saw Maria earlier, and she didn't act any different than she usually does, so I guess Michael didn't tell her what I said. I saw my brother, and I wanted desperately to talk to him, but I couldn't, because he was following Liz around like the puppy-dog he should have been born as.
Kyle told me only what I'd already figured out: That I should apologize. He also told me that it was rude of me, but it shouldn't have been a friendship-shattering blow. He doesn't know Michael, though. He's been hurt by too many people, and I've always tried so hard not to be one of them.
I'd pray that Kyle's right, but I don't believe in a God, so that won't work.
**********
I find Michael at lunchtime, on the quad, with Maria on his lap, and Max and Liz next to them. Kyle is with his jock buddies, but when he sees I'm not going to join the happy four, he jogs away from his friends, and comes to sit with me. "How's it going?" He asks.
"Okay," I respond, having long since realized that 'okay' is the easiest answer to give to people who don't want to hear about your troubles, or when you don't want to talk, without out-right lying. Goodness knows, I do enough lying in my life, you wouldn't think it would be that hard to get used to, but it's still hard for me to do.
But Kyle knows me better than that. "Well, come talk to me if you need to, okay?" He says, adding an obvious accent on the 'okay'. I guess he's heard that one a few too many times from me, and it does get a little smile out of my usually somber and depressed self.
"Okay, Kyle." Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Malemude is waving for him, motioning him to return to their table, and I shoo him away. "Go. I'm fine, and I need to talk to Michael, anyway."
Kyle nods, and stands. "Good luck."
I give an unhappy smile. "Thanks."
I throw away my trash, and approach the couples. Maria is giggling like only Maria can as I approach, but when she feels Michael stiffen under her, she looks around for the cause. As soon as she sees Michael's gaze rest on me, she climbs off of his lap, and pushes him towards me. I flash her a quick smile.
He approaches me with trepidation, and I don't blame him. I hate the tension between us, so I get right to the point. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to say that, and I didn't mean... I didn't mean for things to get messed up between us."
Ordinarily, a verbal jab like I'd given him would be a small wound, but Michael has definite trust issues, and I want him to trust me. I watch with what I'm sure is obvious anxiousness as he considers, and then break into a smile as he reaches out and hugs me. "Okay, Izzy."
I smile into his shoulder, then up at his face as he releases. "Thank you, Michael." He nods, and takes my hand, leading me back to the group. I sit nervously on the edge, without anyone to couple with, or anyone that I would want to couple with, at least, but none of the rest of the crowd seems uncomfortable with my presence.
Lunch is over too fast, and my classes pass in a blur. The afternoon is fairly uneventful, but the night is tough. Mom stays with me for at least an hour before I fall asleep. At least, tomorrow I get to go to the therapist's, instead of school.
*********
Ms. Thompson, or Elizabeth, as I'm supposed to call her, is a nice young woman, only a few years older than me, I think. We get through the introductory stuff pretty quickly, and I tell her about my brother, Michael, Maria, Kyle, and Liz. I leave Tess out of it, finding it hard to come up with believable story about her.
She learns about my parents, how they've treated me well, and how I don't remember anything from the time before we were wandering along the highway when I was six. She says it's unusual, but how else an I supposed to describe it to a human without any knowledge of our existence?
Then, we get to Alex.
"Isabel, your mother told me when she made this appointment that your boyfriend was recently killed, and you were having trouble dealing with it. Can we talk about that?" She asks.
I want to say no, but I nod my head reluctantly. After all, it's what I'm here to talk about anyway, isn't it?
"Well, let's start simple. What was he like, Isabel? What was your relationship like?"
I look at the floor, tears in the corners of my eyes as I remember all the things that Alex did for me, that we did together. "He was... wonderful. He had a funny, wild, kind of wacky sense of humor, and these deep, brown eyes... he cared about everybody, always trying to make problems better, help you deal with things.
"He had a crush on me for several years, but I was a popular kid, and didn't want anything to do with him. Then, in our sophomore year, our group, me and Max and Michael, sort of fused with his group, him and Maria and Liz, and I started to pay a little attention to him. We almost got together, but I had too many trust issues.
"Then, this year, about six months ago, we started drifting closer again. We started to hang out, aside from with the group, and he took me to the Prom. A week later... he was hit by a truck, and killed."
There's silence for a moment, and I can feel her eyes on my back. Slowly, I get my tears under control, and look up at her with a little smile on my face, a smile of remembrance. "He did a strip-dance for my eighteenth birthday," I said. "In a police costume, and he got down to his pants and undershirt before he realized my mother was watching him."
Elizabeth smiled. "How did you feel about that?" She asked.
I smiled sadly. "Happy. He was so cute, and being so sexy... at the time, I was dating another man, but that didn't last very long. I cared for him, but I didn't have those kind of feelings for him."
"What happened to him?"
"We... broke up." How else was I supposed to explain what had happened to Grant?
"Did you have an angry breakup, or was it fairly mutual?"
I stared at the lights in the ceiling. "It was pretty much mutual. I don't see him anymore, but I don't think he's mad at me, and I know I'm not upset with him."
Elizabeth just looks at me for a long moment. I'm still staring at the ceiling, but I can feel her eyes on me, alien powers, I guess. Then, softly, "What do you regret about your relationship with Alex, Isabel?"
The tears are threatening to overflow again, and I avoid her gaze. "Mostly... that I didn't realize how special he was sooner. And... that I never got to tell him that I loved him, before he..." I trail off, not willing to discuss him being dead just yet.
"You loved him, Isabel? In what way? Was he a good friend, maybe someone you could have fallen in love with, or do you think you were already in love with him?"
I don't hesitate to answer that question. "I was in love with him. God, I still am, and it hurts so much."
"Why did you never tell him?"
"I was going to, that night. But he had to stay home and study. Then... he died that same night."
"How do you feel when you think about him being gone, Isabel?"
How do I describe how I feel about Alex's death? I feel so many things. But I take a deep breath, and do my best to put them into words. "I feel... lost. Like I'm missing something. A part of me. And I miss him so much, sometimes I don't think I can handle never seeing him again."
"Did you ever try to act against those feelings, Isabel?"
I laugh a little bitterly. "You could say that."
"What did you do?"
When I hesitate, she forces me to look at her, and gives me what I'm sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile. "I won't judge, Isabel. I just want to know what you did, so that I can help you."
"Well... I got more than a little drunk one night, about a month ago. Totally smashed, actually, was the way my brother described me."
"Anything else?"
I looked down at the floor, ashamed now at what I'd done. The old Isabel Evans would have never even considered doing drugs. "I took some... stuff."
"Drugs?"
I nod wordlessly.
"Did you ever try to injure yourself, Isabel? Did you ever wish that you were dead, so that you could be with Alex?"
I shrug. "I wish I was with Alex, but no, I haven't tried to commit suicide, if that's what you're asking."
"Do you think you might decide to, one day?" Elizabeth asks, her face totally placid.
I shrug again. "I have people here, people who love me. People who I wouldn't want to put through that kind of pain. So, probably not."
"Do you feel like you're staying alive just for those people?"
"Sometimes."
"And the rest of the time?"
"Alex wouldn't want me to give up."
Elizabeth nods. "Our session time is over, Isabel, but I want you to know that I'm always here, always available if you need to talk. And please, promise me you'll tell someone, one of your parents, your brother, or a friend, even, if you feel like hurting yourself."
I don't answer. If I really want to do something about my pathetic existence, then why would I give them a chance to stop me? And if I'm scared of it, I'm probably not going to do it, right?
"Isabel?"
I nod. Sometimes, it's just easier to commit and untruth than to tell the whole of what you're feeling.
[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
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