CHAPTER 14
Maria sighed and leaned her forehead against her locker in the Crashdown's break room. She'd gotten through her shift on auto-pilot, thankfully not messing up any orders in the midst of her mental haze. The restaurant had been particularly busy for a Monday, and Maria was grateful, because she'd also been able to avoid having any sort of significant talk with Liz. She could barely bring herself to think of the events at lunch, let alone talk about them. But now that the Crashdown was closed, she knew it was coming.
She was right. Liz stepped through the door to the break room and approached her, asking hesitantly, "Are you all right, 'Ria?"
Still leaning against the lockers, Maria whispered, "I don't think so." She didn't protest as Liz grabbed her bookbag and street clothes and pulled her up the stairs and into her room. Still in her uniform, Maria sank down onto Liz's bed. She numbly pulled the antennae from her hair and turned them over in her hands. Liz sat quietly next to her and waited for her to speak.
Maria swallowed and forced out, "I...I just can't believe I did it. I almost hit him. After everything he went through with Hank, and then I almost hit him. I love him, Liz. How could I do that to him?" she asked, tears in her eyes.
Liz put her arm around the shaking girl. "Oh, Maria," she said, at a loss for words.
Lost in her misery, Maria allowed the words to pour out of her without pause. "It's the worst thing I could have possibly done. He's been through so much. He doesn't talk about it, but I know living with Hank was...bad. Really bad. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, Liz. Not then, and not now. I mean, everyone always worries about how Michael could hurt me. But we all forget I can hurt him, too. How could I try to hit him?"
Liz gently stroked her friend's hair. "We all make mistakes. Michael has made them, too. He knows you love him. He'll forgive you. But you need to forgive yourself."
"I don't know if I can," Maria whispered. "I don't know why I got so angry with him. I just wanted to help him, and suddenly I was just...furious."
"I know," replied Liz. "I've never seen you that angry. It's not like you."
"It was like I couldn't control it. One moment I was fine, and the next..." Her voice trailed off.
Liz tried to calm her down. "You've been through a lot in the last few days. You almost died. Don't forget that." Maria opened her mouth to protest, but Liz went on, "I'm not saying that what happened was right, but give yourself a break. You're under a lot of pressure right now. Don't be so hard on yourself. It will be okay."
Maria nodded, only partly convinced. "I...I need to talk to Michael," she said slowly.
"I think you're right," her friend said gently.
"I just hope it goes better than today did," Maria said glumly. "I got so angry, he got so angry."
Something occurred to Liz. "Maria, you're right--he got angry. Really angry. Not at all calm and controlled, like he's been."
Maria nodded. "I know. He starts to get emotional, to feel things, and then he closes his eyes and shuts it off. It's happened before."
"The Michael we see here is cold and unemotional. Was he the same way when you were with him in the dream?" asked Liz, an idea beginning to percolate in the back of her brain.
Maria smiled, thinking back to the time she'd spent with Michael that night. "No, he was definitely emotional. He was angry and frustrated, and he had absolutely no problem showing it. And he was also...well, sweet. He worried about me, and he held me so I could fall asleep. It was nice."
"So it's as if we have two Michaels, one with emotions and one without, and one keeps affecting the other," stated Liz analytically.
"Yeah, kind of. Yesterday, he did say that he could feel his other self, because of the hole in the wall. Maybe that Michael is, I don't know, leaking through to this Michael."
"Maybe. But if this Michael says he wants to be whole again, why does he keep shutting himself down whenever any of the other Michael leaks through?" wondered Liz.
Maria was struck by this question. "I don't know. Maybe I need to talk to him about that too."
Liz gave a small smile. Maria was once again regaining some of her spark. "You do that, 'Ria. But no violence this time, okay?"
Maria looked at the floor for a moment, embarrassed. "Okay. At least none from me, I promise."
"So we're all right? You're all right?" Liz asked.
"Yeah, I am. Or at least I will be," answered Maria, with a sigh. She stood and said, "Well, I should have been home by now. I'd better change and get there before my mom calls the cops." Quickly scrambling out of her uniform, she pulled on the skirt and top she'd worn to school.
"I'll take your uniform down for you in the morning," Liz offered.
"Thanks." She picked up her bag and suddenly remembered the paper she'd found in her locker that morning. "Oh, Lizzy, I wanted to show you something." She put the bookbag on the bed and began to rifle through it. "Remember that note I found in my locker?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, it..." It wasn't there. She dumped her books out on the bed and held them upside down, shaking them one by one. No note. That was weird.
"What about it?" she heard Liz ask.
Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Or something. "Oh, nothing. Never mind. It's not important, I guess."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." With a slight frown on her face, Maria headed for home.
Pulling into the school parking lot, Maria found an available spot and turned off the ignition. Another night with very little sleep. She'd lain in bed, trying to figure out how to talk to Michael about what had happened. How to apologize. Who knew saying you were sorry could be so hard? Well, at least she wasn't running late again today. In fact, she was about twenty minutes early. Not being able to sleep had its advantages after all; now she could take her time and make her way leisurely to class before--
Without warning, a piece of paper flattened itself with a bang on the windshield in front of her. She gave a startled shriek and sat for a moment breathing heavily, looking at the paper without seeing it. Suddenly realizing it hadn't attacked her car by itself--that there was a hand holding it onto the glass in front of her--she swung her door open and hopped out. "What do you think you're doing?" she said indignantly, realizing too late just who was standing there. Michael. Of course. What a way to start off the morning. Well, now was her chance. "Oh Michael, I'm glad you're here. I need to apol--"
He interrupted her, his voice harsh. "What the hell is this?"
"What is what?"
"This." He held up the paper he'd flattened against her windshield. She looked at it; it was the sketch she'd found in her locker yesterday, the one of her. With the jagged X through it.
"What are you doing with that?" she demanded.
"You dropped it at lunch yesterday. Where did you get it?" he demanded right back.
Why was he acting all pissy with her? Fine. She could give back as good as she got. "Maybe I drew it. Why do you care?"
"You don't draw like that."
"Just because I'm not you, Mr. van Gogh, it doesn't necessarily follow that I can't draw. I have lots of talents you don't know anything about!" she snapped.
"Will you just answer the question? Where did you get it?"
"None of your business," she retorted, grabbing at the paper.
Michael held it up beyond her reach and barked, "I'm making it my business."
Maria grimaced and said, "You and what army? Oh, I forgot, you are your own army. Now give it to me!" She moved in close to him and put one hand on his shoulder, using it to balance herself as she stood on tiptoe and reached for the sketch. No success. He was too tall. She looked up, ready to give him a piece of her mind, only to see him staring hungrily down at her. Oh my. Of its own accord, her hand slowly fell to rest on his other shoulder, and she gazed up at him questioningly. Swallowing, she began, "Michael, I--"
He tore his eyes from her and took a step back. Closing his eyes, he stood motionless until the tension in his face drained away, and he relaxed and began to breathe evenly. She could have reached out and taken the paper from him, but something in her made her remain still. When he finally opened his eyes, he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket before looking at her.
"Why do you do that?" she asked softly.
"What?"
"Close off the moment you begin to show any emotion. It's like you're keeping the other part of you out on purpose."
"You think I..." He swallowed, and then went on, "You think I'm doing it?"
"Well, yeah."
"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd see." He turned and took a step away from the car, then stopped as she spoke.
"Michael, if that's not what's happening, tell me what is. You say you want to be yourself, but it looks to me like any time there's a chance you'll break through, you're stopping yourself from doing it. If I'm wrong, tell me. Let me help you."
He moved toward the front fender of the car and leaned against it. Looking off into the distance, he said slowly, "It isn't me, it's him. The other me. I told you, he doesn't want out."
"Why not?"
He didn't answer her question, saying instead, "Every time I get angry, or upset, or even just see--" His voice cut off. He paused for a moment before continuing as if he'd never stopped, "Well, get angry, anyway, I start to feel things. The more...emotion...I feel, the more of him I can feel in me, too. I start to feel..."
"Human?" she asked quietly.
He shook his head. "Normal. Well, normal for me anyway. Whole. But then there gets to be a point when he's stronger than I am, and he shuts himself out."
"Oh," she said, taking it all in.
He ran an unsteady hand through his hair, then gazed out over the parking lot. "Look, just...just give me some time to deal with this all, okay? I'll take care of it. I just need to do this on my own."
"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll try. But it's hard. It's hard to see you every day and not be able to talk to you, to know something is wrong and not be able to help fix it."
"I could start skipping school again," he offered seriously.
She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You're just jonesing for an excuse to cut school again, aren't you? Well, not on my account, buddy."
He nodded and they stood in silence for a moment. Finally she ventured, "Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for almost hitting you yesterday."
He shrugged, not looking at her, and said absently, "No big deal."
"It is a big deal." She swallowed, then went on, "I had no right to do that. I'm sorry."
"Look, you didn't even make contact. No harm, no foul."
"I still want to try and make it up to you. What can I do?" She heard herself ask, and for a moment was both grateful and sorry that this wasn't her Michael. If it were, she knew what he'd do. He'd yank her into his arms and proceed to claim her mouth with a passionate kiss...
Instead he looked at her consideringly. "Fine. You want to do something, you can explain this sketch," he said, pulling it out of his pocket.
"That's not what I meant," she protested, but stopped under his watchful eye. "Okay. I don't know what it's about. I found it in my locker yesterday. Someone must've slipped it in as a practical joke or something. It's nothing."
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She shifted uncomfortably and demanded, "So can I have it back now?"
"If it's nothing, then you don't need it, do you? I think I'll hold onto it for a little while."
"Michael!" she burst out. "Split personality or not, do you have any idea how exasperating you can be?"
Was that a smirk on his face? He stood away from the car, looked down at her and said softly, "I try," before heading across the parking lot to the school. Maria leaned against the car, worn out from all this wrangling. Slowly a smile spread across her face. Yep. Exasperating. That was Michael, all right.
TBC...