1 Chapter 3
The weeks were beginning to pass a little bit faster. Each day I saw Maria deteriorate a little more. Sometimes when I knew she was asleep I would sit in the corner of our room and let the hot tears run down my face. I could see some inevitable unjust truth approaching. I didn't know exactly what that would be, but I could leave the worst scenarios up to my imagination.
Sometimes, when I lay next to her, awake, holding her against me, I could feel our child. I remember thinking how amazing it was we had something we produced growing inside of her. I mean, I am not stupid. I realized we didn't have the best situation. Neither of us had ever intended for things to end up like they did.
Then there were the nights when I could feel her own tiny body twisting in pain. Those were the worst nights of my life. I could only watch her. I couldn't make them go away. I wished I could take her place, take her pain away. In fact, many nights my eyes drifted to the phone, my way to Max. Max could help her. Max always was everything I was wasn't.
The worst time was the morning. I would have to tear myself away from her. I had to go to work. I had to support the house, her, and our unborn child. But at work I was always on pins and needles wondering if she was ok. I'd go about tarring the roofs praying that when I came home she was still alive. I couldn't lose her. I didn't know what'd I do if I did. She was everything to me.
Sometimes, while I was at work, slathering tar across the roof my thoughts would drift off to what we could've had. Maybe if we hadn't been so stupid, maybe, just maybe, we could've stayed in Roswell. Then maybe, Max could've saved her. But things weren't like that. That wasn't the reality, it never would be. The reality I lived in was at any minute I could lose the first person that ever meant anything to me. I could lose the first person who ever cared about me in a way they would've sacrificed anything.
I remember the wave of relief I got everyday when it was time to clock out. I just felt like I could breath again. When I came home, I would cross the threshold of our poverty stricken poor-white-trash home. I never expected to ever live in anything that resembled Hank's trailer. I thought I had escaped that a long time ago. But the truth was I hadn't. When we left, we gave up any hope of ever becoming something. In fact, I gave up any hope of ever going home.
I wondered if Max ever felt this way when he found out about his own son? I never considered it the same thing. I mean, my child was a real situation. I couldn't write it off as easily. Granted, he'd been searching for a way to save him, but no one ever thought the possibility existed. Everyone had gone on with life. Isabel ended up married and I ran away.
"Maria, baby, I am home." I whispered in her ear.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, as I leaned down to the bed where she lay. I felt her soft lips meet mine. It felt so good. Today was one of her good days. Her pain was at least subdued.
"Hey." She smiled. I hadn't actually seen her smile for weeks.
I sat next to her body. My own weight sank into the raggedy old mattress. I brought my hand to her stomach, tracing small circles around the bulge. I looked into her eyes and suddenly felt every reason I had fallen in love with her.
"Have I ever told you I love you?" I kissed her once more.
"What should I cook for dinner?"
She smiled up at me as I stood. It was great to see her sparkle again.
"Omelets?"
She nodded as I left the room readying our dinner for the night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I could feel the mattress move under Michael's weight. I never said anything, but every time he even moved an inch it shot pain all through my body. I never wanted to tell him that. Sometimes I just wished everything would end, or that I could at least take everything back.
I hated when Michael woke up in the morning. Suddenly our pretend lives came slamming into us. The nights were nice though. I loved being able to go to bed as just Michael and Maria. But when we woke up we became Darick and Elizabeth. It made me feel sad. I realized I'd never get my old life back. The mornings were my wake up call.
When he left for work, it left me an overabundance of time to think. My biggest regret to date was ever leaving Roswell behind. Why had I been so stupid and thought that things would be better on my own? In truth, since I was about five, I had always waned to leave Roswell, and now that I had it didn't look so bad. I missed Liz. I needed someone to talk to. I missed, Max and Isabel and even Kyle. Kyle was my child's would be uncle. He would've been a great uncle. And my mom, I could hardly bare o think about what she was going through. Was she wondering where I was at, that exact moment? Were she and Sean out searching for me?
I could imagine life in Roswell. I'd get stares of course. "Oh look just like her mother. Her and that Guerin boy", but the people that mattered would be there. Then reality hit, I had an alien growing inside my womb. It would be pretty damn hard to cover up any abnormalities without exposing Michael in Roswell. It hurt to think, but if my baby weren't normal then I would lose the baby and Michael. I couldn't risk exposing him, but God I missed Roswell.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I left that morning, like usual. I kissed Maria's forehead then walked out the door. I could feel my heart sinking into my chest. I was breaking our pact today. I walked to the mailbox, dropping a small postcard in, addressed to one Master Evans. Max was my brother; I had to let him know. I gave him Post Office box two towns over, to reach me at. I figured I'd covered up my tracks well. I had a different name, a different life. I wondered if he would still recognize me if he saw me.
When I looked in the mirror every morning I could see the changes. My hands were swollen harder. My face more stern, older. I had had to grow up fast. My eyes held a thousand stories, as many as someone twice my age. Some days on my drive to work my mind wandered to Hank. I prayed I would be a better father to my baby. I sort of hoped Maria wouldn't come to her senses and walk out on me. I hoped he would never see what a loser I was.
I drove away from our house, our run down house that I loved so much. What would Amy say if he could see us now? Oh yes, that Guerin boy really did a number on her daughter this time. Knocked her up and kidnapped her. I liked Amy, she was a good lady, but with me, in her eyes I know she saw me as her own past.
I sighed. Too late thinking about that now. I pulled up to the large rectangular building. I wondered what the roof had in store for me today. I pulled on my old boots and walked in.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Life had changed for us. I was now five months pregnant. They had been five incredibly long months too. I could feel my body growing weaker y the day. The amazing part was I had survived this long. I f I could just hold on a little longer… That was a scary thought.
In the time we'd lived in this house I had pretty much stayed in bed. I got up to shower; Michael brought me food and made me eat. Other wise, I would've withered away, dwindled down to a shadow of a skeleton.
When I got better, I thought about the fact I had to get a job. What would I do with my baby? I thought about things like that now. Now that it was obvious it would emerge soon. I couldn't leave it at a daycare, what if someone noticed something? And then we had to buy baby furniture and clothes. We barely had enough to keep the house. Then the food, the diapers, the toys. How were we supposed to do this? It was all so much at once. I had a little saved up but nothing to afford all of that.
That's if I had the baby. If I didn't die. I had to think about that too. I could die, what would happen to Michael if I did? Would he go back? What would he tell everyone happened to me? I died on some yearlong road trip? I felt for him. Never had the possibility of losing me been so close.
Sometimes I wrote in a journal I kept by the mattress. Sort of, scientific, as Liz would say. I documented everything, from the pain I was in to what I felt. Michael. Let him know everything, which I couldn't possibly say right now. I could never ever let him know the truth, how much pain I was in, how scared I as, not while he was doing his best to provide for me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was five, I was off. I had the whole weekend to be with Maria. I stopped off at the grocery store, bringing a small load home. I placed the various items in the fridge.
" Maria, I'm home!" I called to her.
I walked into the bedroom. She was asleep. I placed a tender kiss on her brow then went into the living room. I sat on the couch. I pulled out a piece of paper and pen. I began to write a letter to Max. The postcard was nice, but Max should've known what I was going through. I wrote for an hour. I had three pages. I told him everything, and I when I finished I crumpled the paper beneath my fist. Max still had a semi perfect life, who was I to taint that with my own fears and discomforts.
Max had a son, somewhere. I had my unborn child staring me in the face, and I had to live with the fact it could be dying and so could its mother. But Max didn't need to know everything. What would he say if I told him? "I understand what you're going through."
He would never understand, because the truth is he would never know. He would never know his child because, lets face it Max's kid as thousands of light years away. His kid was almost a figment of his imagination. My child was real, it was almost here, and it was dying. And that is what Max would never be able to come to terms with and understand.
And then I wondered, if he did, could he help. The thought had passed through my mind a million times, but never once had it held the appeal it did at that moment. If I told Max everything, would he go to extreme lengths to find me and save Maria and our child? My baby was dying, and Max could help. What if I tipped him off? Would he gallantly ride in on his white horse, in his knight and shining armor mode and save the damsel in distress?
I decided to push that thought to the back of my mind for the time being. Maybe, though, maybe it might come down to that, so I kept the thought on hold.
The weeks were beginning to pass a little bit faster. Each day I saw Maria deteriorate a little more. Sometimes when I knew she was asleep I would sit in the corner of our room and let the hot tears run down my face. I could see some inevitable unjust truth approaching. I didn't know exactly what that would be, but I could leave the worst scenarios up to my imagination.
Sometimes, when I lay next to her, awake, holding her against me, I could feel our child. I remember thinking how amazing it was we had something we produced growing inside of her. I mean, I am not stupid. I realized we didn't have the best situation. Neither of us had ever intended for things to end up like they did.
Then there were the nights when I could feel her own tiny body twisting in pain. Those were the worst nights of my life. I could only watch her. I couldn't make them go away. I wished I could take her place, take her pain away. In fact, many nights my eyes drifted to the phone, my way to Max. Max could help her. Max always was everything I was wasn't.
The worst time was the morning. I would have to tear myself away from her. I had to go to work. I had to support the house, her, and our unborn child. But at work I was always on pins and needles wondering if she was ok. I'd go about tarring the roofs praying that when I came home she was still alive. I couldn't lose her. I didn't know what'd I do if I did. She was everything to me.
Sometimes, while I was at work, slathering tar across the roof my thoughts would drift off to what we could've had. Maybe if we hadn't been so stupid, maybe, just maybe, we could've stayed in Roswell. Then maybe, Max could've saved her. But things weren't like that. That wasn't the reality, it never would be. The reality I lived in was at any minute I could lose the first person that ever meant anything to me. I could lose the first person who ever cared about me in a way they would've sacrificed anything.
I remember the wave of relief I got everyday when it was time to clock out. I just felt like I could breath again. When I came home, I would cross the threshold of our poverty stricken poor-white-trash home. I never expected to ever live in anything that resembled Hank's trailer. I thought I had escaped that a long time ago. But the truth was I hadn't. When we left, we gave up any hope of ever becoming something. In fact, I gave up any hope of ever going home.
I wondered if Max ever felt this way when he found out about his own son? I never considered it the same thing. I mean, my child was a real situation. I couldn't write it off as easily. Granted, he'd been searching for a way to save him, but no one ever thought the possibility existed. Everyone had gone on with life. Isabel ended up married and I ran away.
"Maria, baby, I am home." I whispered in her ear.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, as I leaned down to the bed where she lay. I felt her soft lips meet mine. It felt so good. Today was one of her good days. Her pain was at least subdued.
"Hey." She smiled. I hadn't actually seen her smile for weeks.
I sat next to her body. My own weight sank into the raggedy old mattress. I brought my hand to her stomach, tracing small circles around the bulge. I looked into her eyes and suddenly felt every reason I had fallen in love with her.
"Have I ever told you I love you?" I kissed her once more.
"What should I cook for dinner?"
She smiled up at me as I stood. It was great to see her sparkle again.
"Omelets?"
She nodded as I left the room readying our dinner for the night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I could feel the mattress move under Michael's weight. I never said anything, but every time he even moved an inch it shot pain all through my body. I never wanted to tell him that. Sometimes I just wished everything would end, or that I could at least take everything back.
I hated when Michael woke up in the morning. Suddenly our pretend lives came slamming into us. The nights were nice though. I loved being able to go to bed as just Michael and Maria. But when we woke up we became Darick and Elizabeth. It made me feel sad. I realized I'd never get my old life back. The mornings were my wake up call.
When he left for work, it left me an overabundance of time to think. My biggest regret to date was ever leaving Roswell behind. Why had I been so stupid and thought that things would be better on my own? In truth, since I was about five, I had always waned to leave Roswell, and now that I had it didn't look so bad. I missed Liz. I needed someone to talk to. I missed, Max and Isabel and even Kyle. Kyle was my child's would be uncle. He would've been a great uncle. And my mom, I could hardly bare o think about what she was going through. Was she wondering where I was at, that exact moment? Were she and Sean out searching for me?
I could imagine life in Roswell. I'd get stares of course. "Oh look just like her mother. Her and that Guerin boy", but the people that mattered would be there. Then reality hit, I had an alien growing inside my womb. It would be pretty damn hard to cover up any abnormalities without exposing Michael in Roswell. It hurt to think, but if my baby weren't normal then I would lose the baby and Michael. I couldn't risk exposing him, but God I missed Roswell.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I left that morning, like usual. I kissed Maria's forehead then walked out the door. I could feel my heart sinking into my chest. I was breaking our pact today. I walked to the mailbox, dropping a small postcard in, addressed to one Master Evans. Max was my brother; I had to let him know. I gave him Post Office box two towns over, to reach me at. I figured I'd covered up my tracks well. I had a different name, a different life. I wondered if he would still recognize me if he saw me.
When I looked in the mirror every morning I could see the changes. My hands were swollen harder. My face more stern, older. I had had to grow up fast. My eyes held a thousand stories, as many as someone twice my age. Some days on my drive to work my mind wandered to Hank. I prayed I would be a better father to my baby. I sort of hoped Maria wouldn't come to her senses and walk out on me. I hoped he would never see what a loser I was.
I drove away from our house, our run down house that I loved so much. What would Amy say if he could see us now? Oh yes, that Guerin boy really did a number on her daughter this time. Knocked her up and kidnapped her. I liked Amy, she was a good lady, but with me, in her eyes I know she saw me as her own past.
I sighed. Too late thinking about that now. I pulled up to the large rectangular building. I wondered what the roof had in store for me today. I pulled on my old boots and walked in.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Life had changed for us. I was now five months pregnant. They had been five incredibly long months too. I could feel my body growing weaker y the day. The amazing part was I had survived this long. I f I could just hold on a little longer… That was a scary thought.
In the time we'd lived in this house I had pretty much stayed in bed. I got up to shower; Michael brought me food and made me eat. Other wise, I would've withered away, dwindled down to a shadow of a skeleton.
When I got better, I thought about the fact I had to get a job. What would I do with my baby? I thought about things like that now. Now that it was obvious it would emerge soon. I couldn't leave it at a daycare, what if someone noticed something? And then we had to buy baby furniture and clothes. We barely had enough to keep the house. Then the food, the diapers, the toys. How were we supposed to do this? It was all so much at once. I had a little saved up but nothing to afford all of that.
That's if I had the baby. If I didn't die. I had to think about that too. I could die, what would happen to Michael if I did? Would he go back? What would he tell everyone happened to me? I died on some yearlong road trip? I felt for him. Never had the possibility of losing me been so close.
Sometimes I wrote in a journal I kept by the mattress. Sort of, scientific, as Liz would say. I documented everything, from the pain I was in to what I felt. Michael. Let him know everything, which I couldn't possibly say right now. I could never ever let him know the truth, how much pain I was in, how scared I as, not while he was doing his best to provide for me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was five, I was off. I had the whole weekend to be with Maria. I stopped off at the grocery store, bringing a small load home. I placed the various items in the fridge.
" Maria, I'm home!" I called to her.
I walked into the bedroom. She was asleep. I placed a tender kiss on her brow then went into the living room. I sat on the couch. I pulled out a piece of paper and pen. I began to write a letter to Max. The postcard was nice, but Max should've known what I was going through. I wrote for an hour. I had three pages. I told him everything, and I when I finished I crumpled the paper beneath my fist. Max still had a semi perfect life, who was I to taint that with my own fears and discomforts.
Max had a son, somewhere. I had my unborn child staring me in the face, and I had to live with the fact it could be dying and so could its mother. But Max didn't need to know everything. What would he say if I told him? "I understand what you're going through."
He would never understand, because the truth is he would never know. He would never know his child because, lets face it Max's kid as thousands of light years away. His kid was almost a figment of his imagination. My child was real, it was almost here, and it was dying. And that is what Max would never be able to come to terms with and understand.
And then I wondered, if he did, could he help. The thought had passed through my mind a million times, but never once had it held the appeal it did at that moment. If I told Max everything, would he go to extreme lengths to find me and save Maria and our child? My baby was dying, and Max could help. What if I tipped him off? Would he gallantly ride in on his white horse, in his knight and shining armor mode and save the damsel in distress?
I decided to push that thought to the back of my mind for the time being. Maybe, though, maybe it might come down to that, so I kept the thought on hold.