CHAPTER 12
Maria pulled up at the Lift-Off gas station and parked by the side, away from the pump. Nervously she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes in concentration. Isabel had said Michael would probably be working that afternoon. Yep. There it was, that familiar little tingle. He was here.
Looking in the rearview mirror, Maria applied one last coat of berry-flavored lip gloss. It wasn't for him. She just wanted to go in there feeling confident, knowing she looked her best. She caught her own eye in the mirror. Yeah. Who did she think she was fooling?
Okay. All she needed was to drum up some of the resolve she'd had last night at the Crashdown. It had all seemed so simple then--go to Michael and make him talk to her. Piece of cake. Now it didn't seem that easy. But she had to get through to him, make him talk. She geared herself up, silently commanding herself to take no prisoners, before getting out of the Jetta and heading towards the station building.
Michael was inside, sweeping the small room. He looked up as she entered. "Hey, Michael," she ventured.
He blinked a moment before replying noncommittally, "Hey." He continued to sweep.
Okay. At least he was talking. One word counted, right? "I need to talk to you."
"I'm working."
She looked around. "Michael, there's nobody else here."
"So?"
"So you have two choices. Either agree to talk to me as soon as you get off work, or talk to me now. One or the other, Michael. Which is it going to be?"
He looked at her consideringly, taking in the look of resolve on her face. "Fine. After work. I get off in forty minutes."
"Fine."
"I'll meet you--"
"Oh no, buddy. I'm waiting for you outside. It's not that I don't trust you or anything," she said. Yeah, sure. "I just don't have a better way to spend my Sunday afternoon." Come on, Michael, react. Once he would've jumped right onto that opening with a sarcastic comment. She'd left herself wide open for one on purpose. But he just nodded and continued sweeping.
"I'll be outside at my car. Come out when you're done and I'll drive you home."
Michael hesitated for a moment, and then grudgingly assented. "Fine."
She gave him a suspicious look and then walked out to her car. Leaving the door open, she sat sideways in the driver's seat, enjoying the slight breeze and watching the sparse traffic go by on the highway. Well, she'd made it through that much without backing down. Now if she could only make it through the rest...
Lost in thought, she jerked upright when a shadow fell across her. She looked up into Michael's eyes, searching for a spark of the Michael she knew. It wasn't there. So she was surprised when he handed her one of the two bottles he was holding. She looked down at it. It was Arizona Raspberry Iced Tea, her favorite. "Thanks," she said in astonishment. He nodded, then moved around to the passenger side and got in.
Maria looked at him out of the corner of her eye before starting the Jetta and pulling out of the station. "Your place?" she asked.
"Fine."
They were both silent on the drive over to his apartment, silent as she parked and they walked toward the building, and silent as they climbed the stairs. Michael used his key to unlock the door and motioned for her to precede him into the apartment.
Clutching her purse and the iced tea, Maria took a few steps in and looked around, as she hadn't been able to bring herself to the last time she'd been there. The room was painfully neat, and had an unused air about it. Like it wasn't lived in. She heard the door close behind her, and turned to face him as he moved to the counter and leaned against it. Setting down his bottle of Cherry Coke, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked coolly at her. He didn't speak.
Okay. Here she went. "They told me what you did," she said. "You saved my life. Thank you."
He shrugged and said nothing.
Hmmm. That went over well. But she had needed to say it, as much for her as for him. "Well, anyway," she went on, "I don't really understand everything that's going on, and I need to. I need you to tell me." She paused and then ventured, "How are you?"
"Fine."
"Michael, part of you is locked away in your own mind, trapped. How can you possibly be fine?" she retorted, then took a calming breath. "Sorry. As usual, I keep finding myself losing my temper around you."
"I remember," he said matter-of-factly.
"And I don't want to do that now. I want to understand. I need to understand."
He hesitated for a moment before saying guardedly, "What do you want to know?"
"That's it? What do I want to know? And you'll tell me?" she asked in surprise. Surely it couldn't be this easy.
It wasn't. "No promises."
She glared at him for a moment before sighing and saying, "Can I at least sit down?"
"Go ahead," he said, gesturing towards the couch. He remained where he was, leaning on the counter.
Sitting, she complained, "I'm going to get a crick in my neck if I have to look up at you. You're too tall." He didn't move. "Sit," she commanded.
He raised one eyebrow, but crossed and sat on the other end of the couch, carefully maintaining the distance between them.
"So what's going on with you, Michael?" she asked. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he studied his hands and didn't answer. She began to get annoyed. "Look, I didn't come over here for the view, you know. You may as well talk to me, because if you don't, I will be on your back so fast you won't know what hit you. Wherever you go, I'll be there. You won't be able to call your life your own. I will hound you until you give up, and I promise you I'll give new meaning to the term 'stalker'! So come on, Michael, give."
"I ask again, what do you want to know?" he said pointedly.
Oh. He had asked that. Where to start? There was so much to ask about; what was the most important? As Maria tried to organize her thoughts into a logical order, her mouth took over and she heard herself blurting, "Why do you have cedar oil in your jacket pocket?" Oh god. Had she really asked that? She sneaked a peek over at him and saw to her amusement that the cool, collected Michael looked a little uncomfortable. He actually had an expression on his face. Hmmm. Maybe this line of questioning wasn't so far off track after all. "Why?" she prodded.
He didn't look at her, instead fingering one of his rings as he answered, "I don't know."
"Michael," she said warningly.
He began to look a little more upset. "I don't know! I just have it, okay?" She was about to press him further when suddenly his jaw clenched. Closing his eyes, he held perfectly still for a moment, then opened them and said calmly, "I've had it for a while. Maybe you left it here."
"I did not leave it here!" she retorted. He continued to watch her coolly and she backed down. "Okay, never mind that. Let's get to the main point. Part of you is stuck inside your own mind. We've got that. So when and how exactly did it happen?"
His eyes moved unseeingly about the room as he thought. "Maybe three or four weeks ago, I guess. But I'm not sure how."
Three or four weeks. That tallied with what Michael had told her in the round room, that he'd been there since September. But this Michael didn't know how it happened? She questioned doubtfully, "Well, when did you notice the change?"
"I didn't. Not until Friday night."
Unbelievable. "You've only been half a person and you didn't even notice? I mean, the rest of us all noticed something was off with you--at least those of us who could get anywhere near you did. Why didn't you?"
"It's not like I woke up one morning and was missing a leg," he said dryly.
She rolled her eyes in frustration. "You're not helping here."
"I wasn't aware that I had agreed to help."
She pushed nearer to him on the couch and stuck a finger in his face. "Do I need to bring out the stalking threat again?" she growled, leaning towards him, her face inches from his. "'Cause I'm not kidding about it. I will make your life a living hell if I have to."
She saw his eyes shift to her lips and darken for a moment, and he tensed, his brow furrowed, before once again shutting his eyes and relaxing. Weird. That was the second time it had happened in less than five minutes.
"Okay, what's going on here?" she demanded. "You keep acting like you've actually got a personality, and then, BANG! You get all cold again. You're Mr. Snowmiser. What are you repressing?"
"Repressing?"
"That's what I said, so answer the question, pal."
Michael stood and moved over to the window, where he stood looking out onto the empty street. Keeping his back turned, he said, "Ever since Friday...since Isabel and I dreamwalked you, I can sense him."
"Him? You mean the other part of you?"
He nodded.
"Well, it's only fair, I guess. I mean, I can sense you, so it's only natural that you can sense yourself." She stopped, suddenly embarrassed. "Umm, about that whole sensing you thing, I..."
"I know," he said, turning to face her. "Isabel told me."
"Well, I told you, too, but it wasn't you. I mean, it was the other part of you," she fumbled. "You know?"
"Yeah. She told me you can feel when he's around," he answered.
"Oh. Yeah, I can tell when you're around. But up close, I know you're not the whole you."
Michael turned to the window once more before saying quietly, "He doesn't like it.
"I know," she responded absently, then blurted, "Wait, what do you mean, 'he'? Why do you keep saying that? He is you."
"He is, but he's not. He's separate."
"Well, let him join back up already! Why are you doing this to yourself?" she exploded, rising to her feet.
"I'm not."
"So do something about it! Be a whole person again. Join. Become one. Embrace your inner alien. Whatever, just fix it!" she shouted, close to frustrated tears.
He was silent for a while before answering, "I'm not sure I can. I didn't even know anything was wrong until Max and Alex came over Friday night. I didn't know part of me was...missing."
"But you know it now, right?" she pressed.
He nodded. "I can feel him. I can tell what he's feeling. He's there in the back of my brain. It feels...wrong."
"So let's do something about it."
He ran his fingers distractedly through his tousled hair. "There's a problem."
"What?"
"He doesn't want it."
She grabbed his arm and swung him around to face her. "What?"
"He doesn't want to leave the room," he explained patiently.
"But he tried to," she protested. "He hurt himself trying to use his powers to break through. And Isabel says that after you helped me, he tried to climb out."
"He started to. Then he stopped."
"How do you know all this? Why do you know it now, and you didn't before?"
He glanced uneasily around the room. "I think it's because of the hole we put in the wall around him. It's still there. He keeps trying to shore it up, but he can't," Michael answered slowly. "And I can tell what he's thinking."
She wrinkled her forehead in concentration. "Do you think he can feel you?"
"I don't know," he admitted.
"Well, try and communicate with him, would you? Tell him I said to get over whatever mental problems he has given himself and get his butt back here."
"It's not that easy."
"I know that, all right? But I need him. I need you. I need you to be Michael again." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Even if you're not with me, I still need to know that you're you, not some Michael-shaped pod person. Max and Isabel need you back. You need you back."
He responded in a low voice, "I know I do. But he's...he's not being cooperative."
She burst into laughter. "And that surprises you why? He's you, Spaceboy."
She felt suddenly happy. And hopeful. He wanted to be himself again. Maybe things would work out. Her rising spirits weren't even dashed as he said, "Look, I'm...not really up for any more of this right now. Have I unburdened myself enough for one day?"
"Yeah, sure," she smiled, but added, "I'm going to tell everyone what you told me. They'll probably want to talk to you about it, too, okay?"
He grimaced slightly, and she went on, "Look, if you're going to get yourself back, you're going to need our help. We will give you all the space you need. Just don't completely shut us out, all right?"
He nodded, and she looked up at him with a smile. "We will do this. I promise. You'll be all right." Giving in to an impulse, she stepped closer. "This is for me, okay? I need it," she said, and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He stood perfectly still and allowed her to take comfort from holding him. When she stepped away, there were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling brightly. "Just hang in there, okay, Michael?" And gathering up her purse--and the bottle of iced tea he'd given her--she bolted from the apartment.
TBC...