Part Four [I]No Questions Asked[/I]*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Everything after Max leaves is a hazy blur. That happens a lot when you're on autopilot. Everything around you gets blurry and all you can think about is nothing. Because if you thought about the situation that made you go into autopilot in the first place, then you would go stark raving mad. I'm not kidding, as I'm also speaking from experience. You find that you prefect these little techniques as times wears on.
Some time later (times also lapses into a void when you're on autopilot), I snap out of it somewhat. You never really recover actually, for another piece of you is gone. Ripped away from you in the cruelest of ways, ways in which no one can understand.
The reason I snap out of it is the arrival of my Aunt and Uncle. Finally. Sound the trumpets and start the parade. I mean jeez. We're going to be living in the same house for the next few months, you think they could have at least said hello.
Better late than never I suppose. I mean the early bird gets the worm and all that. But does anyone ever think about the poor early worm? Look what he got for rising and shining. Chomped into bits by a carnivorous birdy. Lucky him. Tsk tsk. My philosophy is to just stay in bed for as long as possible. So what if nothing gets done?
Yes, I do know that I can be morbid at times.
Anyways, I hear them (noisily) enter the apartment (or whatever you would like to call this living space above the Crashdown) and a few minutes later, Aunt Nancy enters by poking her head into the doorway. I momentarily wonder what would happen if the door would slam shut just then. Ker-splat.
The sight she sees must be a bit disturbing, as I am laying Indian style (Indian style humph. What a bigotry type phrase. First of Native Americans were only called Indians because Columbus was a dumb-ass drunkard who idiotically thought he had landed in India, hence his calling the natives, Indians, the stupid prat.) [A/N Sorry if that offends people but I recently did a report on the guy and it had to come out]
Anyways, I'm sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed staring at nothing, while my tattered (thanks to Max's brusque fondling of them) suitcases lay unpacked at the foot of the bed. I wonder briefly if she can tell that I have been sitting here for a long time, motionless.
"Hey honey, how was your flight?" Auntie's voice breaks the silence.
Hmm. What to say about the flight. So much variety, I am almost at a lost at what words to choose from. Almost.
"It was fine," I answer back dully. Peachy Keen.
At this, Aunt Nancy snorts. "I bet the food was heinous."
Wait. This is surprising. Usually people leave it alone after the monotonous 'It was fine' comment.
I don't even think, I just blurt out, "Yeah it tasted like it belonged in the barf bag."
Aunty Nancy laughs. "I bet."
Hold up. Did Liz Parker just make a joke? Did Liz Parker just make someone laugh for a reason other than having said person laughing AT her? Astonishment. Weirdness. Having someone laugh WITH you.
My musings have caused me to miss the next words out of Aunt Nancy's mouth. "Sorry, what was that," I asked. Note to self, remember that when people are around you, you can't go escaping into the dark crevasses of your head. It scares them.
"I just asked if everything was alright. You seemed a bit sad when I first came in here." She is obviously concerned. Wonderful. Operation Convince Aunty that Lizzie is just fine must now commence.
"Oh, I'm great. Just a bit tired." The people of Roswell are going to think I have narcolepsy or something if I keep giving that excuse.
"Okay. Can I help you unpack?"
So helpful already? She must feel badly about being late.
She moves to my suitcases. "I'm really sorry about us being so late. The restaurant convention lasted so long! And Jeff had to clean up afterwards. I hope that Max let you in all right. He's such a sweet boy."
Did I hit that one on the money or what?
I see her go to open my suitcase and hastily wave her off. "No, no, Aunt Nancy. It's all right. I can do it later, don't worry about it."
She draws back her hand. "Well, if you're sure. It's no big deal, I promise you."
How nice to know. Not.
"I'm positive," I say. "Thanks anyways."
She smiles warmly at me. I just stand there.
"Please," she says with a grin. "Call me Nancy. Aunt makes me sound stiff and formal. Okay Liz?"
Whatever floats your boat, Nancy. "Sure," I say.
She then sits down on the edge of my bed. Oh, lord. You are supposed to go away now. You said hello, now it is time for goodbye. Argh, what does she want?
She takes a deep breath and grows solemn. "Your mother told me all that's going on, and I just wanted to say, that if you ever need someone to talk to, about anything, I'm here." She looks up at me expectantly.
I try not to groan, but honestly, what does she expect? That I'm going to cry on her shoulder and everything will be all better? God, I barely KNOW her.
I nod my head warily. Here it comes. Now she's going to pry and pry to get me to "open up." I stand there, the dread coursing through me.
She opens her mouth. NO, NO, NO.
"Okay then. Just so you know," she pauses and looks over to the wall. Her face brightens and do I detect mischief in her eyes? I cannot believe that she isn't going to push the issue. I wait for what's going to come next.
"I think that you'll like the features this room has to offer," she nods at wall and I turn to notice a window there, leading out to. a roof? Another planet? A closet? What? I can't see; it's too dark.
Seeing my eyes squinting to see, she clarifies. "It leads out to a balcony. It's very pretty at night. And very handy for sneaking out."
My jaw drops. She is seriously suggesting what I think she is, is she? Naw, way too easy.
She winks. "Not that I condone that kind of behavior, of course."
Of course not. I give that blowing-air-out-of-your-nose-kind-of-half- laugh. You know, the kind you give when something's not really all that funny, but you feel that you have to humor someone? Yea, that kind of thing.
Jeff makes his début. "Liz! How are you!?"
I jump a bit. He's got one of those booming cheerful voices, the kind that startles people caught unawares.
"I'm fine, Uncle Jeff. How are you," I parrot back dutifully.
"I'm great, thanks! But please, call me Jeff!"
Alright, what is with these people and their phobia against any kind of titles? It feels slightly disrespectful.
I nod my head. "Kay," I say.
He turns to Nancy. "I sent Max on home. That boy's something else. He actually waited down in the diner for us to get back. Said he didn't want to leave it without anyone being down there."
Nancy beamed. Hmm. Looks as if Maxie's got everyone wrapped around his finger. Sort of like Isabel. No wonder they're perfect together.
Jeff focuses on me once more. "Max said that you worked as a waitress today for a shift," He seems puzzled. Heaven forbid I DO something while I'm down here.
"Umm, yeah. I hope that that's okay. It was really busy and they looked like they needed some help," I answer.
Jeff's face molds into one of concern. "I don't want you to feel like you have to work, Liz. This is your vacation after all."
I almost laugh. Some vacation all right. Stuck in hick town while my life at home slowly gets altered into something unrecognizable and while my mothers life slowly deteriorates into a pile of ash. Fun and Games, I tell ya.
"It's fine, I don't mind at all," I replay. Except if I have a shift with Isabel. Then I'll have to digress.
"Well if you're sure." Jeff trails off.
Nancy smacks him lightly. "I'm sure if Liz wants to quit, she'll let us know." She smiles at me. "and besides, she'll be making some money as well as some new friends."
Oh yes, Isabel and I are going to be real close, I can already tell, and so apparently can you.
Wait; did she say something about money? All right, so I have found the perk.
"Well," Nancy gets up and smoothes down the mahogany comforter. "We'll let you get some rest. It's been a long day."
You can say that again.
Jeff goes towards the door as well, but then turns. "I'll make out a schedule for you tomorrow, okay? You can come down to the restaurant for breakfast and I'll give it to you then."
I nod, feeling somewhat like those little puppets with the strings.
They finally leave. I look at the window and sigh. It's just too bad that I don't have anywhere to sneak out to. Really too bad. I remember the last time I snuck out and the disaster that unfolded.
This is dragging up memories that I really don't want to deal with right now. Damn. I need something to take my mind of the past.
Hmm. I could always go through the motions of unpacking instead of living out of my suitcase like I usually do.
Might as well.
I heave the nearest one on top of my bed and open it.
The sight inside shocks and angers me right to the core. What has my mother done!
Oh, piss. Revulsion. My mother is trying to turn me into Pam Troy. Or she is getting back at me for dying my hair. There is no other explanation.
Oh, believe me, she'll come up with other ones, like she's doing this because she loves me (right) or some other blather like I'll thank her someday.
Grr. Anger flows through my bloodstream alongside the red blood cells. I can feel it coursing through my pulmonary veins to fuse through my heart.
What? Science calms me down. Either that or it pisses me off. But usually it's the former.
Anyways, inside the suitcase are, not the baggy tee shirts and overalls that I packed, but the tight tank tops and halters my mom tried to get me to pack. The underhanded little sneak. She must have switched it before we left. I never thought she would stoop so low. I mean, seriously. This is how planes crash. The people at the check in counter ask you if your bag has been out of your hands and if there is a possibility that anyone put something in there without your knowing.
Technically, that is what she did. My mother is now a wannabe terrorist.
Okay, fine. I know that putting CLOTHES unbeknownst to me into my suitcase isn't the same, but still. This is just unacceptable.
I swipe the other suitcase on the ground and quickly open it. Argh. Yup. This one is contaminated too. This one has icky sundresses and short shorts. What is wrong with my mother?
I sit there silently fuming for a while until I remember. Joy! I packed my carry one!
I rip it open. Insert sigh of relief here. There still lay the four baggy tee shirts and my trusty overalls. Thank you lord.
But I'm still in deep doo doo. The four measly tees aren't going to last me two months.
Screw this. I'm tired. I'll face reality tomorrow.
I shove the worthless suitcases on the ground where they land with a loud thump and change quickly into my sleep attire, which includes one of my tee shirts and oversized boxers that could probably fit two of me. At least they're comfy.
I toss of the sheets but before I get in, I glance at the window.
Aw, why not?
I make my way over and push the window upwards. A warm breeze hits me. Thank god for air conditioning that's all I can say. I hoist myself up and manage to get on the roof without killing myself. Not bad for a person who about failed P.E. class.
Hmm. This balcony thing isn't half bad. Pretty spacious. The whole area is almost bigger than the room inside.
I glance around to find battered lawn furniture that looks as if it belongs in an antique store.
What really catches my eye is the fire escape ladder. Nice. Dangerous looking, as I would most likely break my neck but.
I rest my hands on the edge and look down. Nothing special, just a dirty looking alley and a garbage bin that is giving off a lovely odor.
It's then that I look up. The sight (to give an incredibly cliché) takes my breath away.
The stars. For lack of better words, they are beautiful. Sparkling and winking down at me with a hidden message, which I don't care to think about.
In Chicago, the night sky was obstructed by pollution and thick smog. Here, out in New Mexico, it's all clear. It's all.pure. Again I am hit with the heart in throat sensation of hope rising. Is this some sign? Some sign that means life just might be better here? If the stars are more clearly seen here, why not me?
Umm, Liz? Arent you forgetting something?
Oh, yeah. Isabel. My own personal Pam Troy a la Roswell.
Never mind. I just need my sleep. That's it. My incoherent babbling thoughts are due to a lack of sleep. Time for bed.
I trip back inside, and slam the window shut, trying to also slam shut the hopeful feeling. Damn it.
I collapse on the bed.
Right before I slip off into a dreamless sleep, I'm hit with an intriguing thought.
Neither my Aunt nor Uncle cared that my hair was.how did Isabel put it? Tacky. Obvious. REPULSIVE. They treated me like a normal person.
Yup, definitely sleep deprived tonight.
Part Five [i]And I Don't Understand[/i]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
Go away.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
What the heck!? Is the ringing coming from inside my head?
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
Aw, hell. A frickin alarm clock.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
SHUT THE HELL UP! I know for a certain fact that I did NOT set a stupid alarm to go off at 7 AM. That's just insane.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
I groan. Someone up there really hates me. I try to mush my pillow over my head to block out the sound, but its useless.
RINNNNNNNNNNNG!
All right all ready! I swing my pillow haphazardly, effectively knocking the clock that was on the little nightstand next to my bed, with a nice, satisfying CRASH.
RINNNNNNNNNNG!
Wait just one damn minute! I clobbered the little ticker, I know I did! And yet the ringing continues. Droning ON and ON and.
Oye, I am not going to survive this.
Then I hear voices.
"Oh Lord! Jeff! We've overslept again! The alarm kept ringing! Did you hit the snooze button again!? Oh, Jeff, hurry! Customers are going to be lining outside already!"
I hear them scramble around for a few minutes, and then luxurious silence occupies the apartment once more.
I sigh. Too bad I can't enjoy it now. Once I'm awake, no matter how cranky or tired I may still be, I'm awake for good. Which really bites. I need to work on that little flaw of mine. Never mind the fact that I have serious self-esteem issues or that my personality is that of a taxidermist, no, no, I need to focus on my irritating sleep behaviors. Yup, I have officially lost it.
Not for the first, or last, time, might I add.
Damn it. If this is any indication of how my mornings are going to progress from now on, I might as well sleep in the ally.
I lay in bed for a while, curling up into a nice ball, while wrapping the blankets around me, even though the day seems to be about ninety already. I tend to do that a lot. Lay in bed for a while, I mean. Especially after such a rude awakening. It gets me ready for the day. Or something like that.
Aww, hell I should just stay in bed for the rest of my life. There is no way I'll ever be prepared for all the crap that gets thrown my way.
More sighs and grumbling a la me, and I finally roll over and attempt to get up.
I open up one of my suitcases and scowl at the contents. Ick. I forgot about my mother's irksome meddling. Colorful tank tops look up at me. I stare back. They look, and I stare.
Okay, enough! You know it's going to be a bad day when you start having a staring contest with your clothes. And even worse when the clothes win.
Wait, wait. Correction. You know it's going to be a bad day when your name is Liz Parker.
I quickly shrug on a top and shorts, not bothering to care if they match and what not. Gasp! I wonder what Isabel's reaction would be.
'Yea, well bring it on,' I think. I have a new philosophy: Don't care. My new name should be I-don't-give-a-shit-Parker.
Hmm. Has a nice ring to it. I should look into a formal name change, ya know with all the paperwork and what not. Sigh. Okay. Time to go to work. Yippy Skippy, my summer is grand.
I walk down the stairs purposefully, my new maxim resounding over and over in my head. "I don't give a shit, I don't give a shit, I."
I stop short. Okay deep breath, come on Liz! Be strong now!
Isabel's standing right at the end of the stairs, staring straight back at me. Oh, Lord.
I'm immediately on guard. "What?" I ask warily.
She looks hard at me for a minute. Then she replies "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
I hesitate, thinking about Pam Troy, and all the other girls like her that I had hoped to leave behind. I REALLY don't think that I can handle another episode like last night. I'm sick of it. Sick of always being the butt of some cruel mirthless joke.
She sees my vacillation and gets irritated. Insert silent mock gasp here. How DARE I keep Princess waiting!
"I just want to talk okay!" She snaps, like I demanded it out of her. Umm, did I say anything against it? No? Yea that's what I thought.
Isabel stops and takes a deep breath, seeming to calm herself down. That or force herself to continue. I'll let you take your pick.
"Please?" She says softly.
Whoa there! Who are you and what have you done with Isabel? Again I hesitate, but this time for a different reason. Because for a minute there, I think I saw a flash of.vulnerability in her eyes?
Great. Now I'm hallucinating too. God, this is already turning out to be on of the WORST days, and Oh, look. It's only NINE-THIRTY!
Oh, right. Isabel asked me something. Whoops. Ummm.Oh yea, now I remember.
I nod my head, in answer to her request.
"Okay. Ijustwanttosaysorry." She rushes out in one big breath.
Uhh, did anyone else catch that?
Yea, me neither.
Before I can respond, Maria comes out from behind the corner, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, no! Isabel, that's not how we discussed it." She says sternly.
Isabel gets pouty. "Yes it was."
Maria raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at her. At this Isabel sighs and turns back to me. "I apologize for what I said last night. I tend to become very critical of what I don't." here she looked at Maria for help.
"Understand," Maria prompted. Why do I get the feeling that this was orchestrated? Hmm, probably because Maria could recite this "apology" along side Isabel. But something tells me that that's not what's happening here. Maybe it's that lack of sleep thing again, but that's the vibe I'm picking up.
"Understand," Isabel continues. "And I'd understand if you didn't but I really hope that you could forgive me." She finishes in a low voice, her face irritated.
Maria looks expectantly at me and I take the hint. "It's okay." I say. WHY I'm saying that, I don't know. Instinct? Intuition? Good ole Forgiveness? Hmm, too bad my abilities in those departments suck.
Isabel nods her head at me, her duty done. "I'm going to get a shake and then I'm out of here," she says to Maria. Maria nods and turns to me as Isabel's leaving.
"She's really not that bad once you get to know her," she says. Uh, uh. Yea, sure, Maria. Whatever you say. "She's just, believe it or not, scared."
I scoff at this. "Scared? What does she have to be scared about? She's perfect looking, she's popular; she's your typical grade A American teenager!" I bite out. Okay, here's the order Liz. Think THEN speak! God, here I am spouting off shit about Isabel to her best friend. Slap on the idiot sticker and keep on moving.
But to my surprise, Maria just gets this faraway look. "You'd think it was like that, wouldn't you?" She sighs. "You know, she hated me when she first met me too. She insulted my obsession with aromatherapy," Maria grins. "And all those who know me, that if you offend my aromatherapy, you die." Despite myself, I smile back. Her quirkiness is catching. A bit scary, but nevertheless, catching. "Anyways, we got off to a bad start, but then. Michael says she's friendship impaired, or at least she was until Alex and me wore her down."
Hmm. So Izzy's got problems too. Interesting.
"Alex?" I say. I vaguely remember Maria screeching about his absence yesterday. Maria squealed. Ahh, my ears! That girl has one set of pipes; I'll give her that.
"Oh, my God!!! I forgot, you still have to meet Alex! He's the best! You are going to LOVE him!" Maria starts to drag me to the front of the restaurant.
Umm, HI?! That would be MY arm that you are wrenching out of its socket. I happen to be very fond of this arm. It allows me to open things and such. I would be very sad indeed if you broke it off.
It's a good thing I keep those kind of comments to myself, otherwise the little inhabitants of Roswell would have to break out a straight jacket for me. And let me tell you, white is just not my color.
I shake away these morbid thoughts. Where are these thoughts coming from? It's gotta be something in the water.
One more arm wrench later, I am now standing at the bar, staring at a tall, thin, wirey boy with a mop of dark hair. He's grinning profusely. I glance away nervously and then back again.
Still grinning.
Grin, grin, grin.
Scaring the crap out of me here. The guy should be a clown or something.
Yea, or something is right.
Maria watched this whole (or rather lack of) exchange and finally sighs in exasperation. "God, usually he never shuts up," She smacks him lightly (well actually, it seemed pretty hard to me, but she meant it to be lightly. I think)
Alex jerks to attention. Welcome back to planet earth, my friend! He rubs his arm where Maria smacked him. "Ouch! Maria! That hurt!" He mock glares at her again before turning back to me. I mentally congratulate Maria for getting Alex to stop grinning like that. Kudos 'Ria. You deserve a gold star. Shall I give it to you now or save it for your chart. Ooo, I love charts.
And blah, blah, blah. You know you need professional help when the voices in your head start to annoy you.
Oh, anyways, Alex is talking.
"Liz! Nice to meet you! I'm Alex and I'll be your new guide to Roswell. Just ask me anything you need to know and I'll be happy to be of service to you." He winks at me.
Uhh, what exactly does the guy mean by "service?" I gulp. I seriously hope that he didn't interpret my hair the wrong way.
Oh yea, my hair...The guy hasn't said a thing about it. No stares, no pointed disgusted looks. Wow, I guess that earns him a couple points. That is of course, meaning that he doesn't have some weird psycho dictionary which holds profane definitions of the word "service."
I must have been standing there too long with my mouth open, because the next thing I know is Alex is waving his hand in my face. Whoa there bucko. This is my personal space. Yours is fifty feet away from mine. Got it?
I flinch backwards. Alex grins again. Argh. "Good, for a minute there I thought you got abducted." Maria throws him a warning look and Alex just shrugs.
"Abducted?" What? Weird town humor. I'm not even going to ask.
Alex nods his head. "Yea, you know. Just some Roswellian humor with the aliens and all," he says, gesturing to all of the decorations all over the wall.
Wait, did I say that out loud? Whoops.
Hmm. I hadn't bothered to look at the ornamentations yet. I follow Alex's hand to see little green, big-headed.dollies? What the heck? I turn to Alex and Maria with an incredulous look upon my face. "What are those green things?" I ask.
Maria sputters. Then she smiles. "How on earth do you not know about the infamous Roswell Crash?"
Uhh, because I never even heard of this hick town until Mommy dearest shipped me down here. No. I don't want to think about her. Thinking about my mom will lead to thinking about my dad. Thinking about my dad will lead to thinking about the divorce, and exactly WHY they're getting a divorce. And that is a big Red-lights-no admittance-stop-turn around and don't look back-kind of topic.
Seeing my still confounded expression, Alex tries to help out. "In the summer of '47? Alien space ship crashed?" Maria elbows him. "SUPPOSED alien crash? Ring any bells?"
I shake my head uncertainly. Now that they mention it, I remember something about a crash.but it was a weather balloon. Where these guys loony tunes or was it me?
Maria's kinda laughing to herself. "I cannot BELIEVE that you don't know about that. It's HUGE around here. It's the only reason this town stayed above water, with all the tourist traps."
Shame and self-loathing coats my stomach in a greasy feel. I close my eyes for a moment. "I didn't know," I say in a low voice.
I KNEW I should have stayed in bed today.
Maria stops laughing. "No, I didn't mean you were ignorant or anything."
Alex jumps in. "She just found it weird that the thing HER world revolves around, isn't necessarily what does it for other people. Ya know, the NORMAL ones." He grins again. Maybe his grin isn't quite that bad.
Note: I said QUITE.
Nevertheless, I breathe a bit easier, and cant help but smirk at Maria fake outcry of disbelief.
"What exactly were you implying just now, Alexander Charles Whitman!" My smirk grows wider at Alex's cowering expression. I think I need to take some intimidation tips from Maria.
HA! That's be a load of laughs.
Alex smiles weakly. "Uhh, n-nothing Maria."
Maria snorts and gives me a fast wink. Hehe, she's enjoying this way too much. Well so am I for that matter but.
"Nothing my ass Whitman!" Maria raises her eyebrow in waiting. Alex hastily latches onto an excuse. "Uh, I love you?"
She leans forward and grabs his shirt. "Nice try, Alex, but that isn't going to work. Care to try again?" He frantically looks at me for help. Umm, why is that? Sorry buddy, you're on your own with this one.
Alex's eyes plead with me and his voice is soon to follow. "Please Liz? Save me!" He blurts out dramatically. I'm acutely aware of the lovely scene we're currently creating in the midst of the restaurant. Might as well.
"Maria, cut the guy some slack," I say timidly. Oh, God, what if she gets pissed at me now?
To my relief, she releases Alex. "You're lucky you got friends in high places," she says before smiling at me and taking off for her shift.
Alex wipes his hand over his brow in a mock reprieve. "Phew!" He says while grinning his patented grin. "My hero!" He leans back in his chair. "I think this is the beginning of a wondrous friendship between you and I. We're going to be best friends!" The biggest surprise about his statement is that he is one-hundred percent sincere.
I'm about to tell him there's not a chance in hell of us becoming friends, when I notice that, in leaning back, he indolently laid his sleeve in his gross combination of ketchup and eggs. I go to laugh, but hold it inside. Instead, I feel the corners of my lips curve into a half smile.
"What?!" Alex sees my look and then turns to notice his gloppy sleeve. "Aww, MAN!" He crys. "This is the third time this week!"
I feel the urge to laugh again. It's a weird sensation.
"Ya know Alex," I finally say as he scrubs furiously at his elbow. "I think you may be right."
Everything after Max leaves is a hazy blur. That happens a lot when you're on autopilot. Everything around you gets blurry and all you can think about is nothing. Because if you thought about the situation that made you go into autopilot in the first place, then you would go stark raving mad. I'm not kidding, as I'm also speaking from experience. You find that you prefect these little techniques as times wears on.
Some time later (times also lapses into a void when you're on autopilot), I snap out of it somewhat. You never really recover actually, for another piece of you is gone. Ripped away from you in the cruelest of ways, ways in which no one can understand.
The reason I snap out of it is the arrival of my Aunt and Uncle. Finally. Sound the trumpets and start the parade. I mean jeez. We're going to be living in the same house for the next few months, you think they could have at least said hello.
Better late than never I suppose. I mean the early bird gets the worm and all that. But does anyone ever think about the poor early worm? Look what he got for rising and shining. Chomped into bits by a carnivorous birdy. Lucky him. Tsk tsk. My philosophy is to just stay in bed for as long as possible. So what if nothing gets done?
Yes, I do know that I can be morbid at times.
Anyways, I hear them (noisily) enter the apartment (or whatever you would like to call this living space above the Crashdown) and a few minutes later, Aunt Nancy enters by poking her head into the doorway. I momentarily wonder what would happen if the door would slam shut just then. Ker-splat.
The sight she sees must be a bit disturbing, as I am laying Indian style (Indian style humph. What a bigotry type phrase. First of Native Americans were only called Indians because Columbus was a dumb-ass drunkard who idiotically thought he had landed in India, hence his calling the natives, Indians, the stupid prat.) [A/N Sorry if that offends people but I recently did a report on the guy and it had to come out]
Anyways, I'm sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed staring at nothing, while my tattered (thanks to Max's brusque fondling of them) suitcases lay unpacked at the foot of the bed. I wonder briefly if she can tell that I have been sitting here for a long time, motionless.
"Hey honey, how was your flight?" Auntie's voice breaks the silence.
Hmm. What to say about the flight. So much variety, I am almost at a lost at what words to choose from. Almost.
"It was fine," I answer back dully. Peachy Keen.
At this, Aunt Nancy snorts. "I bet the food was heinous."
Wait. This is surprising. Usually people leave it alone after the monotonous 'It was fine' comment.
I don't even think, I just blurt out, "Yeah it tasted like it belonged in the barf bag."
Aunty Nancy laughs. "I bet."
Hold up. Did Liz Parker just make a joke? Did Liz Parker just make someone laugh for a reason other than having said person laughing AT her? Astonishment. Weirdness. Having someone laugh WITH you.
My musings have caused me to miss the next words out of Aunt Nancy's mouth. "Sorry, what was that," I asked. Note to self, remember that when people are around you, you can't go escaping into the dark crevasses of your head. It scares them.
"I just asked if everything was alright. You seemed a bit sad when I first came in here." She is obviously concerned. Wonderful. Operation Convince Aunty that Lizzie is just fine must now commence.
"Oh, I'm great. Just a bit tired." The people of Roswell are going to think I have narcolepsy or something if I keep giving that excuse.
"Okay. Can I help you unpack?"
So helpful already? She must feel badly about being late.
She moves to my suitcases. "I'm really sorry about us being so late. The restaurant convention lasted so long! And Jeff had to clean up afterwards. I hope that Max let you in all right. He's such a sweet boy."
Did I hit that one on the money or what?
I see her go to open my suitcase and hastily wave her off. "No, no, Aunt Nancy. It's all right. I can do it later, don't worry about it."
She draws back her hand. "Well, if you're sure. It's no big deal, I promise you."
How nice to know. Not.
"I'm positive," I say. "Thanks anyways."
She smiles warmly at me. I just stand there.
"Please," she says with a grin. "Call me Nancy. Aunt makes me sound stiff and formal. Okay Liz?"
Whatever floats your boat, Nancy. "Sure," I say.
She then sits down on the edge of my bed. Oh, lord. You are supposed to go away now. You said hello, now it is time for goodbye. Argh, what does she want?
She takes a deep breath and grows solemn. "Your mother told me all that's going on, and I just wanted to say, that if you ever need someone to talk to, about anything, I'm here." She looks up at me expectantly.
I try not to groan, but honestly, what does she expect? That I'm going to cry on her shoulder and everything will be all better? God, I barely KNOW her.
I nod my head warily. Here it comes. Now she's going to pry and pry to get me to "open up." I stand there, the dread coursing through me.
She opens her mouth. NO, NO, NO.
"Okay then. Just so you know," she pauses and looks over to the wall. Her face brightens and do I detect mischief in her eyes? I cannot believe that she isn't going to push the issue. I wait for what's going to come next.
"I think that you'll like the features this room has to offer," she nods at wall and I turn to notice a window there, leading out to. a roof? Another planet? A closet? What? I can't see; it's too dark.
Seeing my eyes squinting to see, she clarifies. "It leads out to a balcony. It's very pretty at night. And very handy for sneaking out."
My jaw drops. She is seriously suggesting what I think she is, is she? Naw, way too easy.
She winks. "Not that I condone that kind of behavior, of course."
Of course not. I give that blowing-air-out-of-your-nose-kind-of-half- laugh. You know, the kind you give when something's not really all that funny, but you feel that you have to humor someone? Yea, that kind of thing.
Jeff makes his début. "Liz! How are you!?"
I jump a bit. He's got one of those booming cheerful voices, the kind that startles people caught unawares.
"I'm fine, Uncle Jeff. How are you," I parrot back dutifully.
"I'm great, thanks! But please, call me Jeff!"
Alright, what is with these people and their phobia against any kind of titles? It feels slightly disrespectful.
I nod my head. "Kay," I say.
He turns to Nancy. "I sent Max on home. That boy's something else. He actually waited down in the diner for us to get back. Said he didn't want to leave it without anyone being down there."
Nancy beamed. Hmm. Looks as if Maxie's got everyone wrapped around his finger. Sort of like Isabel. No wonder they're perfect together.
Jeff focuses on me once more. "Max said that you worked as a waitress today for a shift," He seems puzzled. Heaven forbid I DO something while I'm down here.
"Umm, yeah. I hope that that's okay. It was really busy and they looked like they needed some help," I answer.
Jeff's face molds into one of concern. "I don't want you to feel like you have to work, Liz. This is your vacation after all."
I almost laugh. Some vacation all right. Stuck in hick town while my life at home slowly gets altered into something unrecognizable and while my mothers life slowly deteriorates into a pile of ash. Fun and Games, I tell ya.
"It's fine, I don't mind at all," I replay. Except if I have a shift with Isabel. Then I'll have to digress.
"Well if you're sure." Jeff trails off.
Nancy smacks him lightly. "I'm sure if Liz wants to quit, she'll let us know." She smiles at me. "and besides, she'll be making some money as well as some new friends."
Oh yes, Isabel and I are going to be real close, I can already tell, and so apparently can you.
Wait; did she say something about money? All right, so I have found the perk.
"Well," Nancy gets up and smoothes down the mahogany comforter. "We'll let you get some rest. It's been a long day."
You can say that again.
Jeff goes towards the door as well, but then turns. "I'll make out a schedule for you tomorrow, okay? You can come down to the restaurant for breakfast and I'll give it to you then."
I nod, feeling somewhat like those little puppets with the strings.
They finally leave. I look at the window and sigh. It's just too bad that I don't have anywhere to sneak out to. Really too bad. I remember the last time I snuck out and the disaster that unfolded.
This is dragging up memories that I really don't want to deal with right now. Damn. I need something to take my mind of the past.
Hmm. I could always go through the motions of unpacking instead of living out of my suitcase like I usually do.
Might as well.
I heave the nearest one on top of my bed and open it.
The sight inside shocks and angers me right to the core. What has my mother done!
Oh, piss. Revulsion. My mother is trying to turn me into Pam Troy. Or she is getting back at me for dying my hair. There is no other explanation.
Oh, believe me, she'll come up with other ones, like she's doing this because she loves me (right) or some other blather like I'll thank her someday.
Grr. Anger flows through my bloodstream alongside the red blood cells. I can feel it coursing through my pulmonary veins to fuse through my heart.
What? Science calms me down. Either that or it pisses me off. But usually it's the former.
Anyways, inside the suitcase are, not the baggy tee shirts and overalls that I packed, but the tight tank tops and halters my mom tried to get me to pack. The underhanded little sneak. She must have switched it before we left. I never thought she would stoop so low. I mean, seriously. This is how planes crash. The people at the check in counter ask you if your bag has been out of your hands and if there is a possibility that anyone put something in there without your knowing.
Technically, that is what she did. My mother is now a wannabe terrorist.
Okay, fine. I know that putting CLOTHES unbeknownst to me into my suitcase isn't the same, but still. This is just unacceptable.
I swipe the other suitcase on the ground and quickly open it. Argh. Yup. This one is contaminated too. This one has icky sundresses and short shorts. What is wrong with my mother?
I sit there silently fuming for a while until I remember. Joy! I packed my carry one!
I rip it open. Insert sigh of relief here. There still lay the four baggy tee shirts and my trusty overalls. Thank you lord.
But I'm still in deep doo doo. The four measly tees aren't going to last me two months.
Screw this. I'm tired. I'll face reality tomorrow.
I shove the worthless suitcases on the ground where they land with a loud thump and change quickly into my sleep attire, which includes one of my tee shirts and oversized boxers that could probably fit two of me. At least they're comfy.
I toss of the sheets but before I get in, I glance at the window.
Aw, why not?
I make my way over and push the window upwards. A warm breeze hits me. Thank god for air conditioning that's all I can say. I hoist myself up and manage to get on the roof without killing myself. Not bad for a person who about failed P.E. class.
Hmm. This balcony thing isn't half bad. Pretty spacious. The whole area is almost bigger than the room inside.
I glance around to find battered lawn furniture that looks as if it belongs in an antique store.
What really catches my eye is the fire escape ladder. Nice. Dangerous looking, as I would most likely break my neck but.
I rest my hands on the edge and look down. Nothing special, just a dirty looking alley and a garbage bin that is giving off a lovely odor.
It's then that I look up. The sight (to give an incredibly cliché) takes my breath away.
The stars. For lack of better words, they are beautiful. Sparkling and winking down at me with a hidden message, which I don't care to think about.
In Chicago, the night sky was obstructed by pollution and thick smog. Here, out in New Mexico, it's all clear. It's all.pure. Again I am hit with the heart in throat sensation of hope rising. Is this some sign? Some sign that means life just might be better here? If the stars are more clearly seen here, why not me?
Umm, Liz? Arent you forgetting something?
Oh, yeah. Isabel. My own personal Pam Troy a la Roswell.
Never mind. I just need my sleep. That's it. My incoherent babbling thoughts are due to a lack of sleep. Time for bed.
I trip back inside, and slam the window shut, trying to also slam shut the hopeful feeling. Damn it.
I collapse on the bed.
Right before I slip off into a dreamless sleep, I'm hit with an intriguing thought.
Neither my Aunt nor Uncle cared that my hair was.how did Isabel put it? Tacky. Obvious. REPULSIVE. They treated me like a normal person.
Yup, definitely sleep deprived tonight.
Part Five [i]And I Don't Understand[/i]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
Go away.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
What the heck!? Is the ringing coming from inside my head?
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
Aw, hell. A frickin alarm clock.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
SHUT THE HELL UP! I know for a certain fact that I did NOT set a stupid alarm to go off at 7 AM. That's just insane.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
I groan. Someone up there really hates me. I try to mush my pillow over my head to block out the sound, but its useless.
RINNNNNNNNNNNG!
All right all ready! I swing my pillow haphazardly, effectively knocking the clock that was on the little nightstand next to my bed, with a nice, satisfying CRASH.
RINNNNNNNNNNG!
Wait just one damn minute! I clobbered the little ticker, I know I did! And yet the ringing continues. Droning ON and ON and.
Oye, I am not going to survive this.
Then I hear voices.
"Oh Lord! Jeff! We've overslept again! The alarm kept ringing! Did you hit the snooze button again!? Oh, Jeff, hurry! Customers are going to be lining outside already!"
I hear them scramble around for a few minutes, and then luxurious silence occupies the apartment once more.
I sigh. Too bad I can't enjoy it now. Once I'm awake, no matter how cranky or tired I may still be, I'm awake for good. Which really bites. I need to work on that little flaw of mine. Never mind the fact that I have serious self-esteem issues or that my personality is that of a taxidermist, no, no, I need to focus on my irritating sleep behaviors. Yup, I have officially lost it.
Not for the first, or last, time, might I add.
Damn it. If this is any indication of how my mornings are going to progress from now on, I might as well sleep in the ally.
I lay in bed for a while, curling up into a nice ball, while wrapping the blankets around me, even though the day seems to be about ninety already. I tend to do that a lot. Lay in bed for a while, I mean. Especially after such a rude awakening. It gets me ready for the day. Or something like that.
Aww, hell I should just stay in bed for the rest of my life. There is no way I'll ever be prepared for all the crap that gets thrown my way.
More sighs and grumbling a la me, and I finally roll over and attempt to get up.
I open up one of my suitcases and scowl at the contents. Ick. I forgot about my mother's irksome meddling. Colorful tank tops look up at me. I stare back. They look, and I stare.
Okay, enough! You know it's going to be a bad day when you start having a staring contest with your clothes. And even worse when the clothes win.
Wait, wait. Correction. You know it's going to be a bad day when your name is Liz Parker.
I quickly shrug on a top and shorts, not bothering to care if they match and what not. Gasp! I wonder what Isabel's reaction would be.
'Yea, well bring it on,' I think. I have a new philosophy: Don't care. My new name should be I-don't-give-a-shit-Parker.
Hmm. Has a nice ring to it. I should look into a formal name change, ya know with all the paperwork and what not. Sigh. Okay. Time to go to work. Yippy Skippy, my summer is grand.
I walk down the stairs purposefully, my new maxim resounding over and over in my head. "I don't give a shit, I don't give a shit, I."
I stop short. Okay deep breath, come on Liz! Be strong now!
Isabel's standing right at the end of the stairs, staring straight back at me. Oh, Lord.
I'm immediately on guard. "What?" I ask warily.
She looks hard at me for a minute. Then she replies "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
I hesitate, thinking about Pam Troy, and all the other girls like her that I had hoped to leave behind. I REALLY don't think that I can handle another episode like last night. I'm sick of it. Sick of always being the butt of some cruel mirthless joke.
She sees my vacillation and gets irritated. Insert silent mock gasp here. How DARE I keep Princess waiting!
"I just want to talk okay!" She snaps, like I demanded it out of her. Umm, did I say anything against it? No? Yea that's what I thought.
Isabel stops and takes a deep breath, seeming to calm herself down. That or force herself to continue. I'll let you take your pick.
"Please?" She says softly.
Whoa there! Who are you and what have you done with Isabel? Again I hesitate, but this time for a different reason. Because for a minute there, I think I saw a flash of.vulnerability in her eyes?
Great. Now I'm hallucinating too. God, this is already turning out to be on of the WORST days, and Oh, look. It's only NINE-THIRTY!
Oh, right. Isabel asked me something. Whoops. Ummm.Oh yea, now I remember.
I nod my head, in answer to her request.
"Okay. Ijustwanttosaysorry." She rushes out in one big breath.
Uhh, did anyone else catch that?
Yea, me neither.
Before I can respond, Maria comes out from behind the corner, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, no! Isabel, that's not how we discussed it." She says sternly.
Isabel gets pouty. "Yes it was."
Maria raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at her. At this Isabel sighs and turns back to me. "I apologize for what I said last night. I tend to become very critical of what I don't." here she looked at Maria for help.
"Understand," Maria prompted. Why do I get the feeling that this was orchestrated? Hmm, probably because Maria could recite this "apology" along side Isabel. But something tells me that that's not what's happening here. Maybe it's that lack of sleep thing again, but that's the vibe I'm picking up.
"Understand," Isabel continues. "And I'd understand if you didn't but I really hope that you could forgive me." She finishes in a low voice, her face irritated.
Maria looks expectantly at me and I take the hint. "It's okay." I say. WHY I'm saying that, I don't know. Instinct? Intuition? Good ole Forgiveness? Hmm, too bad my abilities in those departments suck.
Isabel nods her head at me, her duty done. "I'm going to get a shake and then I'm out of here," she says to Maria. Maria nods and turns to me as Isabel's leaving.
"She's really not that bad once you get to know her," she says. Uh, uh. Yea, sure, Maria. Whatever you say. "She's just, believe it or not, scared."
I scoff at this. "Scared? What does she have to be scared about? She's perfect looking, she's popular; she's your typical grade A American teenager!" I bite out. Okay, here's the order Liz. Think THEN speak! God, here I am spouting off shit about Isabel to her best friend. Slap on the idiot sticker and keep on moving.
But to my surprise, Maria just gets this faraway look. "You'd think it was like that, wouldn't you?" She sighs. "You know, she hated me when she first met me too. She insulted my obsession with aromatherapy," Maria grins. "And all those who know me, that if you offend my aromatherapy, you die." Despite myself, I smile back. Her quirkiness is catching. A bit scary, but nevertheless, catching. "Anyways, we got off to a bad start, but then. Michael says she's friendship impaired, or at least she was until Alex and me wore her down."
Hmm. So Izzy's got problems too. Interesting.
"Alex?" I say. I vaguely remember Maria screeching about his absence yesterday. Maria squealed. Ahh, my ears! That girl has one set of pipes; I'll give her that.
"Oh, my God!!! I forgot, you still have to meet Alex! He's the best! You are going to LOVE him!" Maria starts to drag me to the front of the restaurant.
Umm, HI?! That would be MY arm that you are wrenching out of its socket. I happen to be very fond of this arm. It allows me to open things and such. I would be very sad indeed if you broke it off.
It's a good thing I keep those kind of comments to myself, otherwise the little inhabitants of Roswell would have to break out a straight jacket for me. And let me tell you, white is just not my color.
I shake away these morbid thoughts. Where are these thoughts coming from? It's gotta be something in the water.
One more arm wrench later, I am now standing at the bar, staring at a tall, thin, wirey boy with a mop of dark hair. He's grinning profusely. I glance away nervously and then back again.
Still grinning.
Grin, grin, grin.
Scaring the crap out of me here. The guy should be a clown or something.
Yea, or something is right.
Maria watched this whole (or rather lack of) exchange and finally sighs in exasperation. "God, usually he never shuts up," She smacks him lightly (well actually, it seemed pretty hard to me, but she meant it to be lightly. I think)
Alex jerks to attention. Welcome back to planet earth, my friend! He rubs his arm where Maria smacked him. "Ouch! Maria! That hurt!" He mock glares at her again before turning back to me. I mentally congratulate Maria for getting Alex to stop grinning like that. Kudos 'Ria. You deserve a gold star. Shall I give it to you now or save it for your chart. Ooo, I love charts.
And blah, blah, blah. You know you need professional help when the voices in your head start to annoy you.
Oh, anyways, Alex is talking.
"Liz! Nice to meet you! I'm Alex and I'll be your new guide to Roswell. Just ask me anything you need to know and I'll be happy to be of service to you." He winks at me.
Uhh, what exactly does the guy mean by "service?" I gulp. I seriously hope that he didn't interpret my hair the wrong way.
Oh yea, my hair...The guy hasn't said a thing about it. No stares, no pointed disgusted looks. Wow, I guess that earns him a couple points. That is of course, meaning that he doesn't have some weird psycho dictionary which holds profane definitions of the word "service."
I must have been standing there too long with my mouth open, because the next thing I know is Alex is waving his hand in my face. Whoa there bucko. This is my personal space. Yours is fifty feet away from mine. Got it?
I flinch backwards. Alex grins again. Argh. "Good, for a minute there I thought you got abducted." Maria throws him a warning look and Alex just shrugs.
"Abducted?" What? Weird town humor. I'm not even going to ask.
Alex nods his head. "Yea, you know. Just some Roswellian humor with the aliens and all," he says, gesturing to all of the decorations all over the wall.
Wait, did I say that out loud? Whoops.
Hmm. I hadn't bothered to look at the ornamentations yet. I follow Alex's hand to see little green, big-headed.dollies? What the heck? I turn to Alex and Maria with an incredulous look upon my face. "What are those green things?" I ask.
Maria sputters. Then she smiles. "How on earth do you not know about the infamous Roswell Crash?"
Uhh, because I never even heard of this hick town until Mommy dearest shipped me down here. No. I don't want to think about her. Thinking about my mom will lead to thinking about my dad. Thinking about my dad will lead to thinking about the divorce, and exactly WHY they're getting a divorce. And that is a big Red-lights-no admittance-stop-turn around and don't look back-kind of topic.
Seeing my still confounded expression, Alex tries to help out. "In the summer of '47? Alien space ship crashed?" Maria elbows him. "SUPPOSED alien crash? Ring any bells?"
I shake my head uncertainly. Now that they mention it, I remember something about a crash.but it was a weather balloon. Where these guys loony tunes or was it me?
Maria's kinda laughing to herself. "I cannot BELIEVE that you don't know about that. It's HUGE around here. It's the only reason this town stayed above water, with all the tourist traps."
Shame and self-loathing coats my stomach in a greasy feel. I close my eyes for a moment. "I didn't know," I say in a low voice.
I KNEW I should have stayed in bed today.
Maria stops laughing. "No, I didn't mean you were ignorant or anything."
Alex jumps in. "She just found it weird that the thing HER world revolves around, isn't necessarily what does it for other people. Ya know, the NORMAL ones." He grins again. Maybe his grin isn't quite that bad.
Note: I said QUITE.
Nevertheless, I breathe a bit easier, and cant help but smirk at Maria fake outcry of disbelief.
"What exactly were you implying just now, Alexander Charles Whitman!" My smirk grows wider at Alex's cowering expression. I think I need to take some intimidation tips from Maria.
HA! That's be a load of laughs.
Alex smiles weakly. "Uhh, n-nothing Maria."
Maria snorts and gives me a fast wink. Hehe, she's enjoying this way too much. Well so am I for that matter but.
"Nothing my ass Whitman!" Maria raises her eyebrow in waiting. Alex hastily latches onto an excuse. "Uh, I love you?"
She leans forward and grabs his shirt. "Nice try, Alex, but that isn't going to work. Care to try again?" He frantically looks at me for help. Umm, why is that? Sorry buddy, you're on your own with this one.
Alex's eyes plead with me and his voice is soon to follow. "Please Liz? Save me!" He blurts out dramatically. I'm acutely aware of the lovely scene we're currently creating in the midst of the restaurant. Might as well.
"Maria, cut the guy some slack," I say timidly. Oh, God, what if she gets pissed at me now?
To my relief, she releases Alex. "You're lucky you got friends in high places," she says before smiling at me and taking off for her shift.
Alex wipes his hand over his brow in a mock reprieve. "Phew!" He says while grinning his patented grin. "My hero!" He leans back in his chair. "I think this is the beginning of a wondrous friendship between you and I. We're going to be best friends!" The biggest surprise about his statement is that he is one-hundred percent sincere.
I'm about to tell him there's not a chance in hell of us becoming friends, when I notice that, in leaning back, he indolently laid his sleeve in his gross combination of ketchup and eggs. I go to laugh, but hold it inside. Instead, I feel the corners of my lips curve into a half smile.
"What?!" Alex sees my look and then turns to notice his gloppy sleeve. "Aww, MAN!" He crys. "This is the third time this week!"
I feel the urge to laugh again. It's a weird sensation.
"Ya know Alex," I finally say as he scrubs furiously at his elbow. "I think you may be right."