Part Six [I]Max[/I]*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I watch as she struggles not to laugh as Alex smears his elbow in his breakfast for about the billionth time since I've met the guy. He's not what you would call an "elegant" diner. Immediately, I'm all remorse that she didn't allow a full-blown smile grace her face, sure that that would be a beautiful sight to see on Liz Parker. And then, at the same time, I'm relieved, because in some jealous way, [b]I[/b] want to be the one to put that smile there.
What is wrong with me? I shake my head, as if to shake out my thoughts, and turn back to the less than interesting grill of the Crashdown.
Where was this coming from? Why do I feel this way now all of a sudden? What's changed in the span of twenty-four hours?
But I digress. I DO know the answer to those questions. I know them better than I know myself, or where I came from, as I spent the whole entire night awake, pondering them. My wayward thoughts wander to the previous day.
~*~
I was relieved when Mr. Johnson [A/N Jeff and Nancy's last name in this] asked me, in complete haste on his way out of the door, if I could pick up his niece from the airport. I quickly agreed, anything to get me out of my shift, which so far only consisted of a hysterical Maria, rapidly filing in customers and me, as Isabel was late per usual.
Don't get me wrong. I love Maria like I love Isabel, but sometimes she can be a bit much.
Aww hell, she can be TOO much.
I called Michael to get him to help cover my shift and reassured a screeching Maria that Isabel would be in any minute. I knew I was going to so pay for that later.
When I got to the airport, I was a bit late, as finding a parking space in the airport is like trying to locate water in a desert.
Ha ha, New Mexico kid made a desert joke. I should be on Comedy Central.
People had all ready begun to file out of the plane to greet loved ones, or scurry past while tossing agitated looks at their watches. Typical.
Liz was the last one out. I don't know exactly HOW I knew it was her, somehow I just knew. Its weird. I can't explain it. I'd probably make an ass out of myself if I tried. It's just.there. A strange pull of sorts. A CONNECTION.
Umm, anyways. Enough babbling Maxwell.
She had looked.well annoyed for one thing. A definite "Don't you dare" scowl was etched on her face, reminiscent of Izzy's Ice Princess mode.
But what struck me was that underlying all her rebel like vibes and blaring red streaked hair, she was scared. Again, don't ask me how I knew, I just did. Its one of those things you just grow to accept.
Why is the sky blue?
Its just is.
Why don't some Spanish irregular verbs in the preterite follow the same principles as the other verbs? (Who says I have no life?)
They just do.
Why were Isabel, Michael and me dumped in the desert with no explanation from our home planet?
We just were.
Why did things get so bad between my dad and me that I had to move out?
They just did.
Yea, it's little stuff like that.
Now don't think that I'm some nut job who actually BELIEVES what I just said. Don't break out the padded walls and meds just yet. I KNOW there are perfectly good rhymes and reasons for all above said questions. I just don't care much to go into them right now. Which means there's an answer to why I feel so connected to Liz, in such a short time, but once more, I don't care to go into it right now.
I approached her swiftly; calling out a greeting as I went so she wouldn't think I was some stalker guy coming to steal her purse or something.
What?
It happens.
Well actually now that I think about it, me calling out to her probably made her think I was a deranged stalker even MORE so than if I kept my mouth shut. Oops.
I'm sorta amused when she turns, expecting there to be someone behind. Umm, yea, I was talking to YOU.
She slowly realizes that and turns back. She glares up at me expectantly and I momentarily falter. She's beautiful. Somehow, I didn't expect Jeff and Nancy's little niece to be a babe.
But she is, in an understated kind of way. Like she doesn't know it. All of a sudden I was intrigued by her and her pain filled eyes. Because when I saw the flash of blinding, raw pain in her eyes, I just knew that I wanted to be the one to get her open up, to ease her hurt until it was gone, to surrounded her bruised flesh and embrace her beaten heart, magically mending her so she could become the wonderful, carefree girl I had seen hidden beneath all the trauma she had to endure.
Wow, sappy much Maxwell?
I blinked momentarily to put some order into my thoughts and then I had smiled my patented half smile and hastily introduced myself. ~*~
"MAX! Snap out of it dreamy! I got customers waiting and sleep deprivation, so lets move it!" A shriek snaps me out of my thoughts.
Maria. I smile at her and hand her, her order. "Anything else?" I ask in mock jauntiness, while rolling my eyes.
She shakes her head apologetically. "Sorry about that. You just looked out of it for a minute. I took it upon myself to bring you back," She winks at me and I roll my eyes again in response.
"Why thanks. Gosh Maria, I just don't know what I would do without you!" I say to her while trying to set up my next order. Yea I can multitask. I can see the college acceptance letters roll in already. Whoo hoo, go me.
But actually I think that they prefer citizens of this earth. Sadly I don't fit that requirement. Maria just laughs and walks off to her tables, leaving me back with my thoughts.
Maybe I should have made her stay. Because the thoughts that plague me aren't really comforting. In fact, they're unnerving.
~*~ I had glanced at her hair quickly, and then decided not to say anything about it. Something tells me that she did it for attention. NEGATIVE attention and from the looks of it, she doesn't need anymore of that.
Ok, what the hell? HOW do I know this? Are my powers making me become clairvoyant or something? What?
I had carried her carry-on and we set off for the baggage claim. I kept tossing glances her way, which seems to fluster her, so I stop. Feeling like a moron, I tried to make conversation. Judging her response, she tolerates small talk about as well I as tend to. Got in the jeep, and I messed with her for a minute. She was afraid of Bob. Hehe. Isabel HATES it. She claims it's a hazard to the environment. Yea, well it's MY hazard to the environment. Also the only form of transportation that I'll have until I'm thirty by the looks of things. I work at a DINER for God's sake. I can't afford a freakin Mercedes. I don't think anyone in Roswell can.
We arrived at the Crashdown to be greeted with chaos. I jumped into action, trying to do my part and to mediate between Michael and Maria. All the while, I kept sneaking glances at Liz. She seemed so.vulnerable. I wanted to know more about her and why she always cringed and looked at the floor when someone talked to her. I basically wanted to know.her. What was up with me? I shrugged it off as general curiosity and obligation because she is the Johnson's niece and went back to work. ~*~
Michael bursts through the door, disrupting my musings. He grunts a salutation at me and jerks on an apron. I smirk, remembering the first time Mr. Parker had forced him to don one. It had taken Maria's sweet cajoling and a thousand grumbles later to get him to relent. I could see why. The white (stained) apron doesn't scream badass Michael Guerin. But then again, his bad boy persona had always been some sort of façade to protect himself. It's been disintegrating ever since he got together with Maria.
I glance out at the restaurant area, my eyes scanning for a certain person. I'll give you three guess as to who I'm looking for, but you're only going to need one.
Liz is sitting by herself now; Alex is getting ready for his shift to take over for Maria. She gazes off into space (ignore my little pun), a forlorn expression on her face. My heart constricts, as I wonder if she's reliving what seems to be a painful past.
Finally, my thoughts return to the real reason I've got my boxers in a bunch over Liz Parker. The real reason why my heart's being tugged out of my safe guarded chest and into her unknowing hands.
~*~ I had stumbled down the stairs of the Johnson's apartment and almost collided with a distraught Liz. I apologized and asked her what was wrong. She brushed me off, giving some lame excuse that she was tired. I didn't believe her then, and I don't believe her now.
What happened next still shocks me. Our shoulders touched briefly as we passed each other, me on my way down, she on her way up. And in that moment I was hit with a flash. The most stunning, detailed, and amazing Flash I've ever had in my life, and in that brief instant, I knew exactly what it was like to be Liz Parker.
**Flash**
An image of Liz, curled up on a bed, sobbing. Sobbing so hard, you feel as if she would break.
**End Flash** ~*~
And I'm back to the present once more, the burned breakfast order staring me in the face. Whoops. Looks like I need to steer clear of multitasking after all. So much for college.
I wonder back to the flash I got from Liz.
Pure emotion was attached with the flash. Disappointment, bone-crushing hurt, shame, blinding pain closely followed by numbness, and the last one, the one that worried me, was smashed and dashed hope.
I've had flashes before. Usually from Isabel, or Michael, and more recently, from Alex or Maria.
But none have been so graphic, so charged with sentimentality. This one knocked my off of my feet literally. They made my heart scream, my soul sob, and my mind rage. I felt angry that she'd had such a rotten past, and sad that she'd gone through it feeling like she did. She didn't deserve that. No one does.
But what I haven't mentioned is that during my brief moments with her, and during that flash.
I had seen into Liz Parkers soul. And the weird thing is.beneath all of the crap, all of the hurt, beneath all the pain.she was beautiful. Not in the super model, blatant sort of way, but nevertheless.her soul was beautiful..and I could already feel myself falling.
And let me tell you, I have never been more terrified in my life. Or more intrigued. Because once I go there, there's no turning back. Its do or die time. Do I want to get involved with a human? It's not really safe, and Liz doesn't need the extra baggage.
But. Michael and Maria tried it. Its ok for them. And something tells me that Alex and Izzy won't be far behind. Something also tells me that I'd be able to help Liz, just like she'd be able to help me.
Wait a minute. Who the hell is this "something" that keeps "telling" me all of this stuff? If I get a bill in the mail later charging for this "advice" you can tell it to stop now.
And yet.
I glance out at Liz's brooding form. And somehow, I just know.
This may just turn out to be the best summer of my life.
A/N~ This is quite confusing on my part again. The beginning is Liz looking back on her first week while working, and then while she's doing that she gets a memory of Doug.I know most of you wanted to know what was up with him so here ya go.
Part Seven [I] WHY [I]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I swear to God. What on EARTH possessed me to accept this job?
I now humbly take back all the mean, nasty thoughts I had about waitresses over the years back, and apologize. For all the times I left lousy tips, or when I had wished I had had the guts to trip a overly enthused, pompous waiter, or to smack a cheap nasal sounding bimbo-ish waitress, I take it all back.
Well you can't blame me really. We can be quite annoying (Oh Lord, here I am associating myself in their group). Take Maria for example. She has a ZERO tolerance for stupid people. She absolutely REFUSES to give that type of people the time of day. She just won't serve them. Little miss over at booth ten waving her arms? Nope, sorry, no can do. Maria just pretends she can't see them. Like I said, absolutely NO patience with stupid people. Well, who does actually? I mean, no one likes to repeat the daily specials five times because the customer has wax in their ears.
Wax in their ears. Oh, God, I really am my mothers daughter.
And then there's Isabel. She takes forever and a day to give people their checks. The poor customers grow more irritated and impatient as they watch her wipe down the counter of the bar for about the millionth time. Who would have thought that Her Highness was a perfectionist? Isabel's has ZERO tolerance for deficiency. Actually it's quite amusing to see the anal side of Izzy. The people in this town never cease to amaze me.
I myself have ZERO tolerance for cruelty. I was scared to death to start my job, to have to intentionally get in peoples faces and ask them straight out what they wanted. It was all I could do not to flinch, and to look the people in the eye.
Actually, still haven't mastered the eye thing yet, but I'm working on it. Kudus for me! I looked into a guy's nostril instead of at his feet. Hey, now don't give me that grossed out look. It's a start. A revolting start (Mr. Hairy was in DESPERATE need of some nose clippers) but a start nevertheless.
Maria has been a total lifesaver. I seriously do not know what I would have done with out the girl.
Wait, scratch that. I DO know where I'd be without her. In bed, instead of serving coffee to half asleep tourist and perky locals. Because if it wasn't for Maria, I wouldn't have even taken the job.
My first day was horrendous. I spilled coffee on an expensive looking lady. Those fake mounds protruding out of her sleazy yet considered classy (only in her world, I assure you) top must have cost more than her (lack of) college education.
Um, yea, so Rich Bitch was none too pleased with me. She started shrieking about incompetent workers and how much this outfit cost, and blah blah blah. I look back on it now and roll my eyes and move on, but right then?
Right then I was terrified. Instead of hearing the nameless brunette screeching at me, I heard the taunts and yells of my tormentors back home resounding through my brain instead. My throat had closed up and my eyes were anywhere but on the women. Then, the customer said the clincher.
Wrinkling up her nose at the sight of my gaudy hair and scared eyes, she sneered. "Although, you must be an exception. No one else has ever been so STUPID. I guess it must just be YOU."
And with that, Richie Rich huffed, nose in the air in triumph of the joining the rapidly growing list of those who have succeed in making me feel low. Another piece of my soul is gone, now in her uncaring possession.
I had just stood there for an endless minute, waves of shame crashing over me like a storm. I cursed my very being. WHY? That was the word the echoed through my brain.
WHY?
Is there really a good reason for people's cattiness? IS there? Yea, hi, answer boy? Can you solve that little mystery?
Lots of times people think that there are motives for peoples complete bitchiness. Like there is a rhyme for why people get the small high from telling another person off. The feeling of feeling SUPERIOR.
But there aren't. Not in my case anyways. I have done nothing. NOTHING to deserve all of this crap. I have keep to myself, but really, is that a crime? With the way people usually are, who can blame me?
And yet, there must be SOME reason why I am the butt end of life's cruelest jokes. How's that for being born under a bad sign? I swear, I'll say it once, and I'll say it again, someone up there REALLY hates me. I must have had one helluva awful past life. Karma's a bitch when it comes back to haunt you.
Excuse the Buddhism. Just trying to get my point across. For some odd reason, at the thought of Buddhism, a flash of Doug shoots through my brain, and I wince.
No. I am so NOT going there.
But then again, when you rip off one scab, why not tear off all the rest? I close my eyes and allow the memory to overcome me.
~*~Flashback~*~
It was summer and my parents had finally settled into yet another house. My dad's itchy feet kept us moving all over the upper Midwest. Hmm, that's funny. My dad's itchy feet also drove the family apart with the revelation of his new bride. Yea, wonder how long THAT little midlife crisis is going to last.
We settled into Chicago, and that was where we stayed. No more moving for us. Nope. When it got to the point when I actually WANTED to move my parents decide it is time to stay put. Sigh. Typical. Perhaps I should have pulled the ole Reverse Psychology thing on them. "I don't EVER want to move Mommy," and boom. Enter the moving vans. Too bad I didn't discover that little secret before life got shitty.
Here's a little tip for everyone. Don't ever tell anyone what you want. What's that old saying? Lie, lie, lie.or is it deny, deny, deny.its one or the other. Actually, both seem to fit in this type of scenario.
Anyways. Where was I? Oh, yea, it was summer. The summer before sophmore year to be exact, but then, I'm rarely ever exact so it doesn't matter.
It was then that I met Pam Troy. Tess hadn't entered the picture yet, so you are all spared the description of her. Her father and mine were business partners, so Pam and I were expected to be friends, or at least we were expected not to kill each other if we were left alone in a room together. Too bad Pam ignored that little unspoken warning. Oh, she didn't take a knife at me or anything (baad Liz, scaring away people with your morbid thoughts. What?! Some people in the life are only alive because it's illegal to kill and all that. Yea, but don't worry. I don't have the guts to do anything like that. I can't stand the sight of a paper cut, let alone anything else. Plus I have what my mom so fondly refers to as a.how you say.[I] compassionate [/I] personality. I couldn't hurt a fly. Sigh. The limitations god gives you. Oh well). No, she did something much more drastic.
She killed my spirit. My soul. Little Lizzy Parker, naïve and innocent, exists no more. Instead it's "Slut!" "Loser!" "Bitch!" And a few more I cant bring myself to name.
Slut you say? Really? Gawd, Liz, I didn't know you had it in you.
Hahaha. Yea right. I've never fully kissed a guy before. The most revealing outfit I have ever worn was a tee shirt. Yup, that's me. Liz Parker, grade F slut, at your service.
NOT.
But this is a memory right? And the memory suffices to show exactly WHY I get shunned in school, at home, in.LIFE.
I was over at Pam's house. It was some dinner party for executives at daddy's work. I sat nervously on her bed. We had met before. And it hadn't been pretty. She had basically snarled at me to keep out of her way in school, and not to some much as breathe; to keep my "nasty self" away from the things in her perfect princess room. The room enough was enough to make you gag. Fluffy white and pink bedspread with a frickin canopy (someone tell me exactly WHAT the canopy is used for? What? Is it supposed to be an umbrella or something? It might rain in the room? Or, in light of Pam's frigid personality, SNOW in the room? I don't know. I didn't know then, and I still don't now) and a fuzzy princess phone which Pam kept giggling into, covering her mouth to the receiver to whisper what I KNEW were awful things about me.
Later on in the evening, after finally hanging up the phone, Pam went to her window and unlatched it before starting to climb out. My eyes had widened in shock, and I quickly went to leave, not wanting any part of Pam's rebellious move. B.C. time (I use it to mean Before Crap time to refer to my life before all these shitty things started happening. I ALMOST remember that time of my life. Almost.) I would have never of thought of doing anything remotely insubordinate.
Pam had whirled around and pierced me with an icy glare. I had wondered vaguely how such a pretty girl could look so ugly.
She sighed, contemplating her options. Finally she had rolled her eyes at me and motioned for me to come before disappearing out into the night.
What I did next is something I have regretted ever since.
I followed.
And what happened next set everything spiraling further down the Hill of Crap.
Pam lead the way to an old golf course located a few blocks down from her street. She meet up with her "crowd" and promptly began gossiping and throwing me dirty looks. I didn't belong from the start.
Feeling extremely foolish, I wandered away from the bongs being passed around and the drinks being shared. I had never been a party girl. Still aren't. I mean, does anyone actually ENJOY hangovers? Ugh, I have seen too bad ones to want to start. Plus the taste of alcohol is quite bitter. Like putrid bile. Gag me with a spoon.
So I wandered off, gazing up at the cloudy sky, trying in vain to locate just one little start. Just one little sign of hope in the darkness.
Instead, what I found was a beam of light flashing in my eye. I scrunched my eyes up at the owner of the offensive light, making out his features in the dark. He was tall, kinda built with brown hair. Kinda cute. "Kinda" in every way. He smiled at me. "Hey. I'm Doug. Can I sit?" He asked? And that began our hour-long friendship.
We talked. We talked about everything and anything. I told him about how lonesome I'd been since we moved to Chicago, and about how I always used to get teased in grade school. I had even told him about my then-suspicions about my dad.
He had told me that he had just moved and that he missed all of his former friends from his old school, and an old coach who had had adored (ok, he didn't use the word adore, per say. It's a little too much feminine for a jock like Doug to say. I am merely paraphrasing. God Bless English class.)
We shared everything. He had even gone as far as to hold my hand nicely when I had gotten upset in reliving my hellish past. Little did I know that my past was going to look like a blissful alternative to the way my future was about to go.
We were interrupted during our talking by more flashlights. Pam and her crew came up from behind us and totally misread the entire situation.
"Oh GAWD! Doug, you DOG!" One of the guys had whistled crudely. No asshole. Sitting next to a girl in the dark does not automatically mean that you are going to get laid. Remember that next time you are in the backseat, ok buddy?
Pam of course, had to twist everything in her own demented way. "That is disgusting. I can't believe anyone would want to even go NEAR her. That's like, revolting."
Doug instantly broke away from me, flushing apparently in the dark. He ignored everyone's teasing and speculations and began to walk away with the group, leaving me behind with Pam and a girl I now know to be Tess.
I was hurt. I didn't understand WHY he was just leaving me after everything I had revealed to him, everything that he had shared with ME. I stood up awkwardly and called out after him. "Doug."
Snorting and guffawing was heard from the group of boys in the distance, and one mimicked back in high falsetto. "Doug! Oh, Doug! I love you Doug!" More idiotic giggles as some guys dug their elbow into Doug's side and he tried to duck down inconspicuously.
Pam and Tess had turned toward my ashen face then and hissed, "You're nothing. And don't you ever forget it," before striding away and leaving me in the dark.
Doug got off easy though. Another one of the members of the teenage class driven away from his values and morals by the threat of being shunned by society. Another victim subjected and forced into the line of conformity. But with the way society brainwashes people, they actually are granted the illusion that they WANT to be with all the phony populars. [A/N You'll find that society pisses me off big a lot]
He was accepted after a few days time by "the group" while I was harassed my their minions, and sometimes their royal highness's themselves. I was (AM) constantly bombarded with cruel leering and name-callings.
"SLUT!"
"Hey, there hole in one, want a good time?"
And of course, lets not forget the ass pinching and the bra snappings. Sweat pants and baggy shirts became my sole attire. I didn't WANT any more attention.
But every time I'd pass Doug in the halls, he'd look the other way and pretend not to see me.
And I think that's what hurt most of all. ~*~
Maria passing by snapped me out of my memory. She had witnessed the whole debacle with the richy rich customer and angrily asked if I was ok.
But I wasn't. I had never been ok. I just smiled weakly at Maria with deadened eyes and quipped, "Well, this gives whole new meaning to the phrase, 'the customers always right,'" I tried to joke, but Maria wouldn't have it. She shook her head seriously and looked me straight in the eye anxiously. For once I didn't shy away. I met her gaze full on as she told me the thing that began to change my whole entire viewpoint. "Liz, don't ever think that. Don't ever think that someone has the right to make you feel like you aren't worthy of respect. EVERYONE deserves respect, even if they make us want to hurl. But especially you. You ought to DEMAND respect,"
I had laughed hollowly. "Tell telling my brain that. It refuses to cooperate. Besides, I don't deserve anything," I said, wallowing an ocean of self-pity.
Maria shook her head again, " But you DO, Liz. You do." She had trailed off throwing a nasty look at the departing rich bitch. Then she had turned to me, giving off another bout of wisdom one wouldn't usually expect from such a bubbly, "out there" personality. "It all starts off up here, Liz. Believing in yourself. If you think it up here, its moves the rest of the world and ends back with you. Remember that, ok?" She squeezed my shoulder and moved back to her dreadfully neglected tables.
And with that last departing thought, the advice that replaces a similar phrase said by Pam, it all begins.
I take a tiny baby STEP forward and attempt to believe.
I don't fully realize exactly what Maria meant, but I acknowledge the possibility.
And that.
That would be a start.
A start to discover the answers to all of my WHYS, or a start to discover that I don't WANT to know the answer. Or maybe, just maybe, a start to realizing that it just doesn't matter what the answers are to all of the WHYS.
It's still a start nevertheless.
I watch as she struggles not to laugh as Alex smears his elbow in his breakfast for about the billionth time since I've met the guy. He's not what you would call an "elegant" diner. Immediately, I'm all remorse that she didn't allow a full-blown smile grace her face, sure that that would be a beautiful sight to see on Liz Parker. And then, at the same time, I'm relieved, because in some jealous way, [b]I[/b] want to be the one to put that smile there.
What is wrong with me? I shake my head, as if to shake out my thoughts, and turn back to the less than interesting grill of the Crashdown.
Where was this coming from? Why do I feel this way now all of a sudden? What's changed in the span of twenty-four hours?
But I digress. I DO know the answer to those questions. I know them better than I know myself, or where I came from, as I spent the whole entire night awake, pondering them. My wayward thoughts wander to the previous day.
~*~
I was relieved when Mr. Johnson [A/N Jeff and Nancy's last name in this] asked me, in complete haste on his way out of the door, if I could pick up his niece from the airport. I quickly agreed, anything to get me out of my shift, which so far only consisted of a hysterical Maria, rapidly filing in customers and me, as Isabel was late per usual.
Don't get me wrong. I love Maria like I love Isabel, but sometimes she can be a bit much.
Aww hell, she can be TOO much.
I called Michael to get him to help cover my shift and reassured a screeching Maria that Isabel would be in any minute. I knew I was going to so pay for that later.
When I got to the airport, I was a bit late, as finding a parking space in the airport is like trying to locate water in a desert.
Ha ha, New Mexico kid made a desert joke. I should be on Comedy Central.
People had all ready begun to file out of the plane to greet loved ones, or scurry past while tossing agitated looks at their watches. Typical.
Liz was the last one out. I don't know exactly HOW I knew it was her, somehow I just knew. Its weird. I can't explain it. I'd probably make an ass out of myself if I tried. It's just.there. A strange pull of sorts. A CONNECTION.
Umm, anyways. Enough babbling Maxwell.
She had looked.well annoyed for one thing. A definite "Don't you dare" scowl was etched on her face, reminiscent of Izzy's Ice Princess mode.
But what struck me was that underlying all her rebel like vibes and blaring red streaked hair, she was scared. Again, don't ask me how I knew, I just did. Its one of those things you just grow to accept.
Why is the sky blue?
Its just is.
Why don't some Spanish irregular verbs in the preterite follow the same principles as the other verbs? (Who says I have no life?)
They just do.
Why were Isabel, Michael and me dumped in the desert with no explanation from our home planet?
We just were.
Why did things get so bad between my dad and me that I had to move out?
They just did.
Yea, it's little stuff like that.
Now don't think that I'm some nut job who actually BELIEVES what I just said. Don't break out the padded walls and meds just yet. I KNOW there are perfectly good rhymes and reasons for all above said questions. I just don't care much to go into them right now. Which means there's an answer to why I feel so connected to Liz, in such a short time, but once more, I don't care to go into it right now.
I approached her swiftly; calling out a greeting as I went so she wouldn't think I was some stalker guy coming to steal her purse or something.
What?
It happens.
Well actually now that I think about it, me calling out to her probably made her think I was a deranged stalker even MORE so than if I kept my mouth shut. Oops.
I'm sorta amused when she turns, expecting there to be someone behind. Umm, yea, I was talking to YOU.
She slowly realizes that and turns back. She glares up at me expectantly and I momentarily falter. She's beautiful. Somehow, I didn't expect Jeff and Nancy's little niece to be a babe.
But she is, in an understated kind of way. Like she doesn't know it. All of a sudden I was intrigued by her and her pain filled eyes. Because when I saw the flash of blinding, raw pain in her eyes, I just knew that I wanted to be the one to get her open up, to ease her hurt until it was gone, to surrounded her bruised flesh and embrace her beaten heart, magically mending her so she could become the wonderful, carefree girl I had seen hidden beneath all the trauma she had to endure.
Wow, sappy much Maxwell?
I blinked momentarily to put some order into my thoughts and then I had smiled my patented half smile and hastily introduced myself. ~*~
"MAX! Snap out of it dreamy! I got customers waiting and sleep deprivation, so lets move it!" A shriek snaps me out of my thoughts.
Maria. I smile at her and hand her, her order. "Anything else?" I ask in mock jauntiness, while rolling my eyes.
She shakes her head apologetically. "Sorry about that. You just looked out of it for a minute. I took it upon myself to bring you back," She winks at me and I roll my eyes again in response.
"Why thanks. Gosh Maria, I just don't know what I would do without you!" I say to her while trying to set up my next order. Yea I can multitask. I can see the college acceptance letters roll in already. Whoo hoo, go me.
But actually I think that they prefer citizens of this earth. Sadly I don't fit that requirement. Maria just laughs and walks off to her tables, leaving me back with my thoughts.
Maybe I should have made her stay. Because the thoughts that plague me aren't really comforting. In fact, they're unnerving.
~*~ I had glanced at her hair quickly, and then decided not to say anything about it. Something tells me that she did it for attention. NEGATIVE attention and from the looks of it, she doesn't need anymore of that.
Ok, what the hell? HOW do I know this? Are my powers making me become clairvoyant or something? What?
I had carried her carry-on and we set off for the baggage claim. I kept tossing glances her way, which seems to fluster her, so I stop. Feeling like a moron, I tried to make conversation. Judging her response, she tolerates small talk about as well I as tend to. Got in the jeep, and I messed with her for a minute. She was afraid of Bob. Hehe. Isabel HATES it. She claims it's a hazard to the environment. Yea, well it's MY hazard to the environment. Also the only form of transportation that I'll have until I'm thirty by the looks of things. I work at a DINER for God's sake. I can't afford a freakin Mercedes. I don't think anyone in Roswell can.
We arrived at the Crashdown to be greeted with chaos. I jumped into action, trying to do my part and to mediate between Michael and Maria. All the while, I kept sneaking glances at Liz. She seemed so.vulnerable. I wanted to know more about her and why she always cringed and looked at the floor when someone talked to her. I basically wanted to know.her. What was up with me? I shrugged it off as general curiosity and obligation because she is the Johnson's niece and went back to work. ~*~
Michael bursts through the door, disrupting my musings. He grunts a salutation at me and jerks on an apron. I smirk, remembering the first time Mr. Parker had forced him to don one. It had taken Maria's sweet cajoling and a thousand grumbles later to get him to relent. I could see why. The white (stained) apron doesn't scream badass Michael Guerin. But then again, his bad boy persona had always been some sort of façade to protect himself. It's been disintegrating ever since he got together with Maria.
I glance out at the restaurant area, my eyes scanning for a certain person. I'll give you three guess as to who I'm looking for, but you're only going to need one.
Liz is sitting by herself now; Alex is getting ready for his shift to take over for Maria. She gazes off into space (ignore my little pun), a forlorn expression on her face. My heart constricts, as I wonder if she's reliving what seems to be a painful past.
Finally, my thoughts return to the real reason I've got my boxers in a bunch over Liz Parker. The real reason why my heart's being tugged out of my safe guarded chest and into her unknowing hands.
~*~ I had stumbled down the stairs of the Johnson's apartment and almost collided with a distraught Liz. I apologized and asked her what was wrong. She brushed me off, giving some lame excuse that she was tired. I didn't believe her then, and I don't believe her now.
What happened next still shocks me. Our shoulders touched briefly as we passed each other, me on my way down, she on her way up. And in that moment I was hit with a flash. The most stunning, detailed, and amazing Flash I've ever had in my life, and in that brief instant, I knew exactly what it was like to be Liz Parker.
**Flash**
An image of Liz, curled up on a bed, sobbing. Sobbing so hard, you feel as if she would break.
**End Flash** ~*~
And I'm back to the present once more, the burned breakfast order staring me in the face. Whoops. Looks like I need to steer clear of multitasking after all. So much for college.
I wonder back to the flash I got from Liz.
Pure emotion was attached with the flash. Disappointment, bone-crushing hurt, shame, blinding pain closely followed by numbness, and the last one, the one that worried me, was smashed and dashed hope.
I've had flashes before. Usually from Isabel, or Michael, and more recently, from Alex or Maria.
But none have been so graphic, so charged with sentimentality. This one knocked my off of my feet literally. They made my heart scream, my soul sob, and my mind rage. I felt angry that she'd had such a rotten past, and sad that she'd gone through it feeling like she did. She didn't deserve that. No one does.
But what I haven't mentioned is that during my brief moments with her, and during that flash.
I had seen into Liz Parkers soul. And the weird thing is.beneath all of the crap, all of the hurt, beneath all the pain.she was beautiful. Not in the super model, blatant sort of way, but nevertheless.her soul was beautiful..and I could already feel myself falling.
And let me tell you, I have never been more terrified in my life. Or more intrigued. Because once I go there, there's no turning back. Its do or die time. Do I want to get involved with a human? It's not really safe, and Liz doesn't need the extra baggage.
But. Michael and Maria tried it. Its ok for them. And something tells me that Alex and Izzy won't be far behind. Something also tells me that I'd be able to help Liz, just like she'd be able to help me.
Wait a minute. Who the hell is this "something" that keeps "telling" me all of this stuff? If I get a bill in the mail later charging for this "advice" you can tell it to stop now.
And yet.
I glance out at Liz's brooding form. And somehow, I just know.
This may just turn out to be the best summer of my life.
A/N~ This is quite confusing on my part again. The beginning is Liz looking back on her first week while working, and then while she's doing that she gets a memory of Doug.I know most of you wanted to know what was up with him so here ya go.
Part Seven [I] WHY [I]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I swear to God. What on EARTH possessed me to accept this job?
I now humbly take back all the mean, nasty thoughts I had about waitresses over the years back, and apologize. For all the times I left lousy tips, or when I had wished I had had the guts to trip a overly enthused, pompous waiter, or to smack a cheap nasal sounding bimbo-ish waitress, I take it all back.
Well you can't blame me really. We can be quite annoying (Oh Lord, here I am associating myself in their group). Take Maria for example. She has a ZERO tolerance for stupid people. She absolutely REFUSES to give that type of people the time of day. She just won't serve them. Little miss over at booth ten waving her arms? Nope, sorry, no can do. Maria just pretends she can't see them. Like I said, absolutely NO patience with stupid people. Well, who does actually? I mean, no one likes to repeat the daily specials five times because the customer has wax in their ears.
Wax in their ears. Oh, God, I really am my mothers daughter.
And then there's Isabel. She takes forever and a day to give people their checks. The poor customers grow more irritated and impatient as they watch her wipe down the counter of the bar for about the millionth time. Who would have thought that Her Highness was a perfectionist? Isabel's has ZERO tolerance for deficiency. Actually it's quite amusing to see the anal side of Izzy. The people in this town never cease to amaze me.
I myself have ZERO tolerance for cruelty. I was scared to death to start my job, to have to intentionally get in peoples faces and ask them straight out what they wanted. It was all I could do not to flinch, and to look the people in the eye.
Actually, still haven't mastered the eye thing yet, but I'm working on it. Kudus for me! I looked into a guy's nostril instead of at his feet. Hey, now don't give me that grossed out look. It's a start. A revolting start (Mr. Hairy was in DESPERATE need of some nose clippers) but a start nevertheless.
Maria has been a total lifesaver. I seriously do not know what I would have done with out the girl.
Wait, scratch that. I DO know where I'd be without her. In bed, instead of serving coffee to half asleep tourist and perky locals. Because if it wasn't for Maria, I wouldn't have even taken the job.
My first day was horrendous. I spilled coffee on an expensive looking lady. Those fake mounds protruding out of her sleazy yet considered classy (only in her world, I assure you) top must have cost more than her (lack of) college education.
Um, yea, so Rich Bitch was none too pleased with me. She started shrieking about incompetent workers and how much this outfit cost, and blah blah blah. I look back on it now and roll my eyes and move on, but right then?
Right then I was terrified. Instead of hearing the nameless brunette screeching at me, I heard the taunts and yells of my tormentors back home resounding through my brain instead. My throat had closed up and my eyes were anywhere but on the women. Then, the customer said the clincher.
Wrinkling up her nose at the sight of my gaudy hair and scared eyes, she sneered. "Although, you must be an exception. No one else has ever been so STUPID. I guess it must just be YOU."
And with that, Richie Rich huffed, nose in the air in triumph of the joining the rapidly growing list of those who have succeed in making me feel low. Another piece of my soul is gone, now in her uncaring possession.
I had just stood there for an endless minute, waves of shame crashing over me like a storm. I cursed my very being. WHY? That was the word the echoed through my brain.
WHY?
Is there really a good reason for people's cattiness? IS there? Yea, hi, answer boy? Can you solve that little mystery?
Lots of times people think that there are motives for peoples complete bitchiness. Like there is a rhyme for why people get the small high from telling another person off. The feeling of feeling SUPERIOR.
But there aren't. Not in my case anyways. I have done nothing. NOTHING to deserve all of this crap. I have keep to myself, but really, is that a crime? With the way people usually are, who can blame me?
And yet, there must be SOME reason why I am the butt end of life's cruelest jokes. How's that for being born under a bad sign? I swear, I'll say it once, and I'll say it again, someone up there REALLY hates me. I must have had one helluva awful past life. Karma's a bitch when it comes back to haunt you.
Excuse the Buddhism. Just trying to get my point across. For some odd reason, at the thought of Buddhism, a flash of Doug shoots through my brain, and I wince.
No. I am so NOT going there.
But then again, when you rip off one scab, why not tear off all the rest? I close my eyes and allow the memory to overcome me.
~*~Flashback~*~
It was summer and my parents had finally settled into yet another house. My dad's itchy feet kept us moving all over the upper Midwest. Hmm, that's funny. My dad's itchy feet also drove the family apart with the revelation of his new bride. Yea, wonder how long THAT little midlife crisis is going to last.
We settled into Chicago, and that was where we stayed. No more moving for us. Nope. When it got to the point when I actually WANTED to move my parents decide it is time to stay put. Sigh. Typical. Perhaps I should have pulled the ole Reverse Psychology thing on them. "I don't EVER want to move Mommy," and boom. Enter the moving vans. Too bad I didn't discover that little secret before life got shitty.
Here's a little tip for everyone. Don't ever tell anyone what you want. What's that old saying? Lie, lie, lie.or is it deny, deny, deny.its one or the other. Actually, both seem to fit in this type of scenario.
Anyways. Where was I? Oh, yea, it was summer. The summer before sophmore year to be exact, but then, I'm rarely ever exact so it doesn't matter.
It was then that I met Pam Troy. Tess hadn't entered the picture yet, so you are all spared the description of her. Her father and mine were business partners, so Pam and I were expected to be friends, or at least we were expected not to kill each other if we were left alone in a room together. Too bad Pam ignored that little unspoken warning. Oh, she didn't take a knife at me or anything (baad Liz, scaring away people with your morbid thoughts. What?! Some people in the life are only alive because it's illegal to kill and all that. Yea, but don't worry. I don't have the guts to do anything like that. I can't stand the sight of a paper cut, let alone anything else. Plus I have what my mom so fondly refers to as a.how you say.[I] compassionate [/I] personality. I couldn't hurt a fly. Sigh. The limitations god gives you. Oh well). No, she did something much more drastic.
She killed my spirit. My soul. Little Lizzy Parker, naïve and innocent, exists no more. Instead it's "Slut!" "Loser!" "Bitch!" And a few more I cant bring myself to name.
Slut you say? Really? Gawd, Liz, I didn't know you had it in you.
Hahaha. Yea right. I've never fully kissed a guy before. The most revealing outfit I have ever worn was a tee shirt. Yup, that's me. Liz Parker, grade F slut, at your service.
NOT.
But this is a memory right? And the memory suffices to show exactly WHY I get shunned in school, at home, in.LIFE.
I was over at Pam's house. It was some dinner party for executives at daddy's work. I sat nervously on her bed. We had met before. And it hadn't been pretty. She had basically snarled at me to keep out of her way in school, and not to some much as breathe; to keep my "nasty self" away from the things in her perfect princess room. The room enough was enough to make you gag. Fluffy white and pink bedspread with a frickin canopy (someone tell me exactly WHAT the canopy is used for? What? Is it supposed to be an umbrella or something? It might rain in the room? Or, in light of Pam's frigid personality, SNOW in the room? I don't know. I didn't know then, and I still don't now) and a fuzzy princess phone which Pam kept giggling into, covering her mouth to the receiver to whisper what I KNEW were awful things about me.
Later on in the evening, after finally hanging up the phone, Pam went to her window and unlatched it before starting to climb out. My eyes had widened in shock, and I quickly went to leave, not wanting any part of Pam's rebellious move. B.C. time (I use it to mean Before Crap time to refer to my life before all these shitty things started happening. I ALMOST remember that time of my life. Almost.) I would have never of thought of doing anything remotely insubordinate.
Pam had whirled around and pierced me with an icy glare. I had wondered vaguely how such a pretty girl could look so ugly.
She sighed, contemplating her options. Finally she had rolled her eyes at me and motioned for me to come before disappearing out into the night.
What I did next is something I have regretted ever since.
I followed.
And what happened next set everything spiraling further down the Hill of Crap.
Pam lead the way to an old golf course located a few blocks down from her street. She meet up with her "crowd" and promptly began gossiping and throwing me dirty looks. I didn't belong from the start.
Feeling extremely foolish, I wandered away from the bongs being passed around and the drinks being shared. I had never been a party girl. Still aren't. I mean, does anyone actually ENJOY hangovers? Ugh, I have seen too bad ones to want to start. Plus the taste of alcohol is quite bitter. Like putrid bile. Gag me with a spoon.
So I wandered off, gazing up at the cloudy sky, trying in vain to locate just one little start. Just one little sign of hope in the darkness.
Instead, what I found was a beam of light flashing in my eye. I scrunched my eyes up at the owner of the offensive light, making out his features in the dark. He was tall, kinda built with brown hair. Kinda cute. "Kinda" in every way. He smiled at me. "Hey. I'm Doug. Can I sit?" He asked? And that began our hour-long friendship.
We talked. We talked about everything and anything. I told him about how lonesome I'd been since we moved to Chicago, and about how I always used to get teased in grade school. I had even told him about my then-suspicions about my dad.
He had told me that he had just moved and that he missed all of his former friends from his old school, and an old coach who had had adored (ok, he didn't use the word adore, per say. It's a little too much feminine for a jock like Doug to say. I am merely paraphrasing. God Bless English class.)
We shared everything. He had even gone as far as to hold my hand nicely when I had gotten upset in reliving my hellish past. Little did I know that my past was going to look like a blissful alternative to the way my future was about to go.
We were interrupted during our talking by more flashlights. Pam and her crew came up from behind us and totally misread the entire situation.
"Oh GAWD! Doug, you DOG!" One of the guys had whistled crudely. No asshole. Sitting next to a girl in the dark does not automatically mean that you are going to get laid. Remember that next time you are in the backseat, ok buddy?
Pam of course, had to twist everything in her own demented way. "That is disgusting. I can't believe anyone would want to even go NEAR her. That's like, revolting."
Doug instantly broke away from me, flushing apparently in the dark. He ignored everyone's teasing and speculations and began to walk away with the group, leaving me behind with Pam and a girl I now know to be Tess.
I was hurt. I didn't understand WHY he was just leaving me after everything I had revealed to him, everything that he had shared with ME. I stood up awkwardly and called out after him. "Doug."
Snorting and guffawing was heard from the group of boys in the distance, and one mimicked back in high falsetto. "Doug! Oh, Doug! I love you Doug!" More idiotic giggles as some guys dug their elbow into Doug's side and he tried to duck down inconspicuously.
Pam and Tess had turned toward my ashen face then and hissed, "You're nothing. And don't you ever forget it," before striding away and leaving me in the dark.
Doug got off easy though. Another one of the members of the teenage class driven away from his values and morals by the threat of being shunned by society. Another victim subjected and forced into the line of conformity. But with the way society brainwashes people, they actually are granted the illusion that they WANT to be with all the phony populars. [A/N You'll find that society pisses me off big a lot]
He was accepted after a few days time by "the group" while I was harassed my their minions, and sometimes their royal highness's themselves. I was (AM) constantly bombarded with cruel leering and name-callings.
"SLUT!"
"Hey, there hole in one, want a good time?"
And of course, lets not forget the ass pinching and the bra snappings. Sweat pants and baggy shirts became my sole attire. I didn't WANT any more attention.
But every time I'd pass Doug in the halls, he'd look the other way and pretend not to see me.
And I think that's what hurt most of all. ~*~
Maria passing by snapped me out of my memory. She had witnessed the whole debacle with the richy rich customer and angrily asked if I was ok.
But I wasn't. I had never been ok. I just smiled weakly at Maria with deadened eyes and quipped, "Well, this gives whole new meaning to the phrase, 'the customers always right,'" I tried to joke, but Maria wouldn't have it. She shook her head seriously and looked me straight in the eye anxiously. For once I didn't shy away. I met her gaze full on as she told me the thing that began to change my whole entire viewpoint. "Liz, don't ever think that. Don't ever think that someone has the right to make you feel like you aren't worthy of respect. EVERYONE deserves respect, even if they make us want to hurl. But especially you. You ought to DEMAND respect,"
I had laughed hollowly. "Tell telling my brain that. It refuses to cooperate. Besides, I don't deserve anything," I said, wallowing an ocean of self-pity.
Maria shook her head again, " But you DO, Liz. You do." She had trailed off throwing a nasty look at the departing rich bitch. Then she had turned to me, giving off another bout of wisdom one wouldn't usually expect from such a bubbly, "out there" personality. "It all starts off up here, Liz. Believing in yourself. If you think it up here, its moves the rest of the world and ends back with you. Remember that, ok?" She squeezed my shoulder and moved back to her dreadfully neglected tables.
And with that last departing thought, the advice that replaces a similar phrase said by Pam, it all begins.
I take a tiny baby STEP forward and attempt to believe.
I don't fully realize exactly what Maria meant, but I acknowledge the possibility.
And that.
That would be a start.
A start to discover the answers to all of my WHYS, or a start to discover that I don't WANT to know the answer. Or maybe, just maybe, a start to realizing that it just doesn't matter what the answers are to all of the WHYS.
It's still a start nevertheless.