Part Nine [I] Doesn't Mean Anything At
All[/I]*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ever notice how much Time sucks?
I mean seriously.
Ole Geezer Time has something against us human folk. Somewhere along the line, one of us pissed him off big time, and now the rest of us unwitting offspring are paying for it.
Paybacks a bitch, aint it.
I'm sitting here with Maria and Alex, dirty ice cream bowls strewn before us, all three of us glaring at the ruthless clock.
Or rather, we are staring at the inane minute hand (now really. Is there a reason it is called a hand?? And on that matter, if the clock has a hand circling it, when why the hell is it called a face?? Hmm?? Someone care to share? Who comes UP with this stuff?), which is refusing to cooperate. Hence Time really sucking right now.
There's always a moment, a moment so perfect, so RIGHT, so BEAUTIFUL, that you just don't want it to ever end.
Time knows this. So what does it do? It decides to speed up, that's what it decides to do.
Bastard.
And there's always a moment that you cant wait to end, that you would do anything to be anywhere else, a moment you just want to rush through, to get to better things.
And I think you know what Time does deliberately. But I shall spell it out for the dim among you. It decides to slow down.
Another question, who came up with the phrase "Perfect Timing"? Because there's no such thing.
We've been sitting here like this for at least thirty minutes. The Crashdown is bare, not a body in sight. And yet, we are obligated to be here for another fifteen minutes.
But I digress. The shift was somewhat.dare I say it.FUN.
We had boy bashing (Alex even joined in ironically, making it all the more hilarious), we had an ice cream binge, we had a whipped cream fight (don't ask. All you need to know is that Alex lost.hehehe.), we complained about customers, we.BONDED.I guess.
It was strangely refreshing. Definitely a new experience for me, and I owe to Michael's thickheaded-ness. Hmm, perhaps I should thank the guy later.
Either that or smack him for making Maria sad.
But nevertheless it was one of the more enjoyable moments I've had in Roswell.one that actually has...HOPE rising again.and this time I'm welcoming it, instead of damning that bastard to hell.
Then why, you ask, are we so pissed at Mr. Time?
The Crashdown is DEAD. And we're exhausted. Well I am anyways. Working two straight shifts is no walk in the park. And I've had enough of these damn uniforms. I mean, has my aunt HEARD of fabric softener? Obviously not. And the damn antenna is digging into my scalp. I myself am looking forward to a nice, hot shower.mmmm..And I can bet that Alex and Maria have places they'd rather be right now (Maria, in her room, wallowing in a little alone time; Alex mooning after Izzy some more. But then, these are just speculations.)
So that is why we are anxious for the time to pass (at least that's what I think), and that is exactly why Time is deciding to screw us over for about the gazillionth time.
Wonderful. Alex is now banging his head on the table. WAM WAM WAM WAM. Over and over and over and over and over and over and.
Good God we need out of here.
Finally, in all exasperation, Maria just yells out "MOVE DAMN YOU!"
She's speaking to the clock. But the old lady in the corner (did I mention her? No? Probably because she is just sitting there, no food, no water, no cheap flimsy napkins. NO just sitting. Prolonging our shift) jumps about fifty feet. I resist the urge to giggle.
Giggle. Wow. There's something I haven't done in a long time.
Anyways, the lady leaps out of her skin, and shoots Maria a dirty look, who stares right back. After a few tense moments, the lady huffs and leaves.
"Alleluia! Now we can bust outta this joint!" Maria praises.
I smirk. Since when did she become so religious?
Never mind. I gladly join her conversion. We're free, we're free! Praise be, praise be!
Hehe, I get poetic when I'm tired. Lovely!
I rip off the damn antennae and smirk even wider at the sight of Alex doing a little happy dance. Fun times. But now, time for bed.
We all crowd to the back, pushing and shoving to see who can get through the door first. Hmm, note for self, trying to cram three nearly grown teens through on small swinging door is probably not the smartest thing.
"OUCH! Alex! Now I'm stuck!"
Hehe, Maria and Alex are wedged between the doorway, wriggling trying to set themselves free. Should I help them?
Naahh. This is fun to watch.
Yes, I know. Simple minds.
"LIZ!! Don't just stand there! Help us through!"
Simple pleasures.
Maria misses my devious grin. And good thing too, or else she'd be out of that door quicker than.
Well quicker than usual. Excuse me; I don't have a brilliant metaphor ready.
I creep up slowly until I'm positioned right behind them, and.
PUSH!
And down go Maria and Alex.
THUD!
Hehe.
"Owwwww! My poor bum." Alex rubs his behind exaggeratingly. Good God I really did not need to see that.
"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzz," Maria whines. Wow, I never thought my name could sound so annoying. I immediately feel kind of bad and go to help her up. She takes my hand pouting, and then grins. Uh oh. I know that grin.
My reaction time is slow when she tugs suddenly.
And down I go.
THUD!
If it didn't hurt so bad I'd be giggling with Maria. But damn, my poor bum!
Good lord, Alex vocabulary is rubbing off on me.
I try to glare meaningfully at the snorting pair on the ground but my mouth keeps twitching. I go to sit next to them, when I catch a glimpse of someone sitting on the couch that's by the lockers. A blonde curvy figure. The growing laughter dies in my throat.
"Hey Isabel," Maria says through laughing.
Alex has suddenly gone pink and has lost his voice. Hmm, cute.
"Hey," Isabel says, nodding curtly at me. Gulping, I nod back, though mine probably came out as a damn bobbing like a friggin doggie on a dashboard, while hers was cool and calculated. Smooth Parker.
We stand there for a minute, tension growing. It seems that either Isabel is disgusted by Maria's childish behavior, or angry that she is sharing it with me. But then again, these are just speculations.
Nevertheless, I can take a hint.
"I'm just gonna." I jerk my hand to the outside restaurant area and walk out. Whoa, deja vu. I did the same thing when I walked in on Maria and Michael's fight.
My antennae are still out in the restaurant where I threw them in jubilance.
I take my sweet time going to get them, straightening ketchup bottles as I go, and picking up stray napkins. Finally, ten minutes later, I go cautiously back to the swinging door and go to open it.
That is, I go to open it, until I hear my name. And then I do something that is incredibly stupid. But you would do the same were you in my position. Don't lie.
I eavesdrop.
I can't catch all of it (stupid thick door) but I hear enough. Enough to have the entire feeling of hope whoosh out of me like a punctured balloon, and enough to have me curse my stupidity. Why do I always do this? Always fall for it.
"So you ready.go.annual Friday night movie?" Isabel. But I can't catch every word.
"Almost.ask...Liz.go?" I can hear Maria's bounciness.
"Yea." Alex, his tone earnest.
Pause
"I.not sure.not.good idea.don't want.to come." Isabel says uncertainly.
Pause
"Why." Alex. His voice is hard.
".don't trust her.what if she.secret.not sure.don't like her.out there.weird.what if." Isabel. I can hear the disgust dripping off her words.
There's more, but I blocked it out. I don't need more negativity. I do just fine on my own thank you very much. I slump down onto the floor of the Crashdown.
Eww. Someone needs to take a broom to this floor. One dust bunny, two dust bunny, three... my eyes are blinded now by a hot liquid threatening to spill.
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.
Damn it! The tears are already burning my nose, and streaking my face. WHY? WHY WHY WHY?
Why do I care what Isabel has to say or not say?
Why do I care that I wasn't invited to whatever they are going to do?
Why am I crying about something I don't care about, about something that is not that big of a deal?
Why am I continuously a boil on the butt of humanity?
WHY?!
This is so stupid. [I]I'm [/I] so stupid.
I stay this way for a while. A long while. Maria and Alex came to invite me to their movie night, but I stayed in the shadows so they couldn't see my face and told them I was too tired. They tried to protest, almost sensing something wrong.but I managed to convince them that all I needed was sleep. And they bought it.
And in a way I am too tired. I'm tried of this high and low feeling of hope. I'm tired of pity, I'm tired of being such a hypocrite, I'm tired of the world hating me. I'm tired of my contradicting thoughts. A certain song comes to mind. "I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does."
Too bad I'm not everybody else.
An hour or so later, I finally stand up, brush off my friends and companions, the dust bunnies (bye bye Fred), and stretch out my muscles. I sullenly push through the hateful swinging door and trudge up the stairs, creeping past my aunt and uncle's room, to end up in mine. I should probably get that much needed rest that I am talking about, but right now I don't think I could fall asleep even if I tried. I'd just sit there, staring into the dark, all the things I keep locked away in a handy dandy box in my head would come pouring out.
Enough. I need to get away from this. Away from my thoughts. Away from.my life.
I shove open the window and step out onto the balcony, throwing myself into a grimy lawn chair. Momentarily, I glance down at the cement. Why hello there Fred. What ever are you doing up here?
Sadly, not even Fred the dust bunny can make me forget.
Why is it, that when you try so hard to block everything out, you try so hard to be ice, to be numb, to prevent any sentimentalities from penetrating your walls and layers.
Why is it that when you attempt to do so, it never works? The sadness, the hurt, it seeps into you. Pushing through to suffocate you and to choke your breath? Rising in you to abscond out of you in the form of a strangled cry?
"Liz?"
Startled, I jump a bit. Are the voices in my head coming out to speak to me out loud again? I freeze, straining my ears.
"Liz, are you awake?" There's the voice again. When I realize what the voice said, I snort. What, am I suppose to answer you if I'm asleep? Now THAT makes a whole hell of a lot of sense.
The voice came from the ally behind the Crashdown. That means the person is right below the balcony.
It's probably some criminal rapist dude. Cool. Bring it on. But wait? How did they know my name?
Hehe, I'm playing. I know exactly who it is, and for some reason, I know that I would recognize that voice anywhere.
"Hey Max," I stare down at him.
He stares back.
Hmm, this could go on all night. Wait a minute. Why isn't he out with Isabel and them, doing their annual, Friday night whatever hoopla that I'm not worthy enough of damaging their auras with my slimy presence?
"Whatcha doing here Max?" I ask flatly. "Why aren't you out with the rest of your gang for your annual Friday night movie or whatnot?"
Now tell me this, WHY did I ask that? I really don't want the answer to that. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Is there a reason I can't remember that? Note to self, never ask a question that you don't want the answer to. It's mundane.
All right, now that I have locked that one away.
Max smiles sardonically at me. "I tend not to go my parents house much. Its not really a welcoming spot right now,"
And yes, that would be her foot going into her mouth! She shoots, she scores!
What?! My uncle watches way too much ESPN. It's seeping into my brain. And God knows that what seeps into my brain, ends up coming out in my psycho thoughts.
Anyways, um oops? I remember vaguely someone telling me that Max doesn't live at home, but I always shrugged it off. I mean, he's a year older than me. Eighteen, I'm pretty sure. I always thought he just moved out early or something. It never occurred to me that there might be a STORY behind that.
"Sorry," I say.
I see him shrug. "Not your fault."
Well. There's a new one.
Oh yea. There's probably a reason Max came over here. Does he need to talk to Jeff? No, he would have used the entrance. Ok, then what? Nighttime stroll? An undeniable urge to join the "I like to put down Liz" club? What?
After a silence, he asks. "So. Can I come up?"
"I don't know. Can you?" Oh my God. Oh my FREAKING God. I did NOT just say that. PLEASE. Someone tell me I did NOT just say that. Urg, that's what my mother used to say in trying to get me to be more polite. Oh please, no. No, no.
Max smirks. "Ok, then MAY I come up?" Shit. His mom was probably the same way. Great, now he is most likely going to associate me with his mom. Not that I care what he associates me as. But if he associates me with his mom, then that's just wrong. Because you wouldn't.with your mom.I mean.
Ok, I seriously need to stop thinking. NOW.
Coloring slightly, I answer, "Um, yea. Sure."
And he scampers up here so fast there must be a burn on the ladder. Despite myself, I smirk. "Nice," I say. Nice. Wonderful, here we go again.
He smiles. "Yea I work out," he jokes, flexing his muscles exaggeratingly.
GAH.
My throat starts working at the sight of that. Whoa there doggie. Slow down Parker! Where the HELL are my thoughts taking me? In un-chartered, OFF LIMITS territory, that's where.
Stop it. Stop it right now.
I take a shuddering breath and look up at him.
Wow, was THAT a mistake. His eyes are boring into mine, the warm amber darkening somehow, in.in what? My own eyes widen, trying to decipher the expression I see there.
Suddenly Max pulls back. He runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath. "I heard what happened with Isabel." He says.
Well. That's one way to put a damper on the mood. I turn away.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I say tenaciously. I don't want to think about it.
"Ok. But can I say one thing?" He pleads. Damn those puppy dog eyes. Actually, damn the eyes all together. Why am I such a sucker for those eyes?
"I doubt I'd be able to stop you one way or the other," I say, rolling my eyes. Ha, that's it. Throw the ole 'tude in his face. That'll throw him off the fact that your heart is beating a mile a minute, for no apparent reason.
"I just want to apologize for her. I honestly don't know what has gotten into her these days. I'd blame it on PMS but she dragged me to the drug store two weeks ago, so that cant be it."
I snort. This Max is a hilarious one. But then, we've already covered that.
His eyes are dancing with mirth at his little joke, and he seems please that I acknowledged it with a snort. Then he sobers, his eyes serious.
Ok enough with the eyes already. I'm getting distracted here. Though with the topic of the conversation, I think I'd rather be distracted.
"I really am sorry for that. She shouldn't have done that," Max is looking at me earnestly, pleading for.for what? I'm starting to get pissed here. Is there a reason everyone apologizes FOR Mistress high and mighty? Hmm? Because I am quite sick of hearing lies.
So I just stand there, my form tense, and my eyes glaring. And everything is building, swelling within me. All the things that I never let out, all the pain, the hurt, the memories, the sadness.it's all bottling up. And right now, it's threatening to explode.
Max seems to know this. His face is alarmed, and he lightly touches my arm. His touch, sweet and tentative, is hits me straight to the core. [I]Zing[/I]
For one moment, I consider telling him everything. About my father, about Pam, about Tess, about Doug, and about the horrid day at the lake when I really started to become lost.for a minute, I wonder wildly if he could make everything all better.
Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid me. Why do I even bother hoping, latching on, and waiting? Life is shit. Why cant I accept that and move on, and not stick around, wanting something better? Never gonna happen..
Everything is still whirling inside, bubbling up like acid, like puke (because there's a worthwhile analogy), and finally, I just can't take it anymore.
"Liz.?" Max asks again.
Just leave, I pray, just leave before I totally loose it.
"Its just not fair," I whisper, my voice reflecting the tears that are welling up in my eyes again. I sniffle pathetically. "Its just not fair," My voice cracks a little on 'fair.' Wonderful. Because this is just what Max needs, to have to deal with a sobby, blubbering me right now. I wipe furiously at my wet eyes, but the tears keep coming. Damn it! Not now! I so do not want to cry in front of him.
He moves forward quickly, and all of a sudden, I am enveloped by warmth, by his strong (as he proved just a few minutes ago) arms. To further my shock, I find that I'm allowing him to hug me, and I melt into his embrace for a while. A few more tears escape, and then I stop crying, shocked into submission by the feeling of being wrapped up in someone. How is it that Max Evans can control my tears, but no matter how I try, I cannot? And how long has it been since I last allowed myself to seek comfort in someone else?
And the warmth.it's seeping into me (and oh God, we know what happens when something seeps into me) and banishing away the cold. It's.nice.
I swear to God, when this is over, I am heading straight for the library for that damn Thesaurus. Honestly. But it is.
And I come to the shocking, amazing realization, that I feel [I] SAFE [/I]. Now, if you want to talk about something that I haven't felt in a long time, well this would be it. Its right up there with Love, and Happiness.
Weirdness.
"Sorry," I say. "You probably don't, I mean, well, you did your duty. You can go home now. I'll be fine," I say again in the same weak useless voice that makes me cringe. I instantly back slightly away, but Max tightens his hold on me.
Now tell me this. Is there a reason I can't leave well enough alone? I used to wonder if I had a permanent kick me sign on my back, but now I wonder if I'm a glutton for punishment.
His eyes widen in shock. "What do you.you really think that I am doing this for Princess Icicle?" He laughs hollowly. Icicle? Hmm. "I know what's going on with Isabel. But what I don't know is how YOU are. That's why I came over here. Not to mediate between you two. I was.well."
The absolute LAST thing I expected myself to do was smirk. Obviously it is the last thing Max thought I would do too. He raises an eyebrow at me. "What?" He asks curiously.
My smirk grows wider and I look up at him. "You're cute when your stuttering," I say, and then my mouth drops open.
What is WITH my total lack of control tonight!!!? I immediately clap my hand over my mouth (yea, because THAT will have the power to retract what I just said).
Max laughs, and flicks away one of my tears. I ignore the way it sends another jolt through me. "Yea, well there's something you ought to know." he leans forward secretively.
"Oh yeah?" I say wittingly. "What?"
"You look cute when you cry. But since I've never seen a full out smile from you, I guess I can't make a proper comparison."
Well now, who would have guessed that Max was another Mr. Radio? You know, the smooth talker types.
I roll my eyes, trying to convince the damn butterflies that awoke at his comment to shut up. "I smile," I protest.
That is a blatant bald-faced lie. But then, how would he know?
"No," Max says sadly, looking contrite almost. "You don't."
I suck in my breath. I know what's coming next.
"Why?"
I look away towards my bedroom window, focusing on that for a while. Then I turn back but stare at his ears, rather than his eyes. His eyes are my undoing, so I rightfully stay away. But then his ears aren't that much better. They stick out funny like. Hehe. I would laugh if I weren't about to cry.
"Man those are big suckers, aren't they," I try to joke, but my voice doesn't come out light enough.
Max just gives me a look. The infamous, 'I-know-what-you-are-doing-and-its- not-going-to-work' kind of look. But then to my surprise, he drops it. A mixture of relief and wonder flows through me.
I think its time for a subject change, don't you? Remembering his earlier comment, I am infused with curiosity.
"Max.?" I ask tentatively. He lets go of me slowly, almost...reluctantly?
Now there's a laugh. MAX reluctant to let go of ME. Most likely he was waiting for the moment where his utter relief wouldn't seem so obvious.
"Hmm?" He says in reference to my unfinished inquiry.
"Why don't you live with your parents?" I ask, biting my lip.
He's not looking at my eyes. Rather, he looking at my.chin? My nose? My.lips??
It's something along those lines. And he appears not to have heard me. There are very few situations where I do not like to be ignored. This is one of them.
"MAX" I say louder. Hellllooooooo? Anyone in there among the bricks and wood?
"Oh, yea, what?" He says.
Poor guy doesn't have that good of an attention span now does he? I repeat the question, and a change goes over his features. Anger, and sadness mar his handsome face. (I did NOT just think that) He draws back some more.is that panic I see on his features?
Immediately I'm alarmed. "Max?"
He shakes his head. "I rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."
Lovely. He has found an alternative to "if you want." And why is he getting all defensive?
"Why not?" I ask, pushing it.
He breathes out some frustrated air, and pierces me with those damn eyes. "I just don't,"
Well. I'll try one more time. "Max."
He interrupts. "Liz? Don't you have some things that you would rather not talk about? Things that are better left alone?" He doesn't say it in a mean way; on the contrary, he's very nice about it. But nevertheless, it still whacks me in the face. I think of my dad, of his cold indifference, of my mom, her crumbling face, of Tess, of Pam, of their leering face, and of Doug, his eyes not meeting mine.
"Yea," I answer. Too many things.
Max nods, his face sad. "Then you understand."
I nod back, my eyes looking into his (did I not tell myself NOT to do that?) in wonder.
What an odd feeling. Sharing a moment with someone where no words are needed but you feel this.this.CONNECTION. This understanding with someone, this supporting comprehension.
Unbelievable and totally strange.
But.
Also.
Completely and truly wonderful.
HA! How's that for a better word for nice?
And then I realize.
This is the first moment where time is actually on my side and cooperating with me. Well what do you know?
For this is the first moment that feels like it is being rightfully stretched out for an eternity.
So I guess time doesn't really suck all that much after all, huh.
Ever notice how much Time sucks?
I mean seriously.
Ole Geezer Time has something against us human folk. Somewhere along the line, one of us pissed him off big time, and now the rest of us unwitting offspring are paying for it.
Paybacks a bitch, aint it.
I'm sitting here with Maria and Alex, dirty ice cream bowls strewn before us, all three of us glaring at the ruthless clock.
Or rather, we are staring at the inane minute hand (now really. Is there a reason it is called a hand?? And on that matter, if the clock has a hand circling it, when why the hell is it called a face?? Hmm?? Someone care to share? Who comes UP with this stuff?), which is refusing to cooperate. Hence Time really sucking right now.
There's always a moment, a moment so perfect, so RIGHT, so BEAUTIFUL, that you just don't want it to ever end.
Time knows this. So what does it do? It decides to speed up, that's what it decides to do.
Bastard.
And there's always a moment that you cant wait to end, that you would do anything to be anywhere else, a moment you just want to rush through, to get to better things.
And I think you know what Time does deliberately. But I shall spell it out for the dim among you. It decides to slow down.
Another question, who came up with the phrase "Perfect Timing"? Because there's no such thing.
We've been sitting here like this for at least thirty minutes. The Crashdown is bare, not a body in sight. And yet, we are obligated to be here for another fifteen minutes.
But I digress. The shift was somewhat.dare I say it.FUN.
We had boy bashing (Alex even joined in ironically, making it all the more hilarious), we had an ice cream binge, we had a whipped cream fight (don't ask. All you need to know is that Alex lost.hehehe.), we complained about customers, we.BONDED.I guess.
It was strangely refreshing. Definitely a new experience for me, and I owe to Michael's thickheaded-ness. Hmm, perhaps I should thank the guy later.
Either that or smack him for making Maria sad.
But nevertheless it was one of the more enjoyable moments I've had in Roswell.one that actually has...HOPE rising again.and this time I'm welcoming it, instead of damning that bastard to hell.
Then why, you ask, are we so pissed at Mr. Time?
The Crashdown is DEAD. And we're exhausted. Well I am anyways. Working two straight shifts is no walk in the park. And I've had enough of these damn uniforms. I mean, has my aunt HEARD of fabric softener? Obviously not. And the damn antenna is digging into my scalp. I myself am looking forward to a nice, hot shower.mmmm..And I can bet that Alex and Maria have places they'd rather be right now (Maria, in her room, wallowing in a little alone time; Alex mooning after Izzy some more. But then, these are just speculations.)
So that is why we are anxious for the time to pass (at least that's what I think), and that is exactly why Time is deciding to screw us over for about the gazillionth time.
Wonderful. Alex is now banging his head on the table. WAM WAM WAM WAM. Over and over and over and over and over and over and.
Good God we need out of here.
Finally, in all exasperation, Maria just yells out "MOVE DAMN YOU!"
She's speaking to the clock. But the old lady in the corner (did I mention her? No? Probably because she is just sitting there, no food, no water, no cheap flimsy napkins. NO just sitting. Prolonging our shift) jumps about fifty feet. I resist the urge to giggle.
Giggle. Wow. There's something I haven't done in a long time.
Anyways, the lady leaps out of her skin, and shoots Maria a dirty look, who stares right back. After a few tense moments, the lady huffs and leaves.
"Alleluia! Now we can bust outta this joint!" Maria praises.
I smirk. Since when did she become so religious?
Never mind. I gladly join her conversion. We're free, we're free! Praise be, praise be!
Hehe, I get poetic when I'm tired. Lovely!
I rip off the damn antennae and smirk even wider at the sight of Alex doing a little happy dance. Fun times. But now, time for bed.
We all crowd to the back, pushing and shoving to see who can get through the door first. Hmm, note for self, trying to cram three nearly grown teens through on small swinging door is probably not the smartest thing.
"OUCH! Alex! Now I'm stuck!"
Hehe, Maria and Alex are wedged between the doorway, wriggling trying to set themselves free. Should I help them?
Naahh. This is fun to watch.
Yes, I know. Simple minds.
"LIZ!! Don't just stand there! Help us through!"
Simple pleasures.
Maria misses my devious grin. And good thing too, or else she'd be out of that door quicker than.
Well quicker than usual. Excuse me; I don't have a brilliant metaphor ready.
I creep up slowly until I'm positioned right behind them, and.
PUSH!
And down go Maria and Alex.
THUD!
Hehe.
"Owwwww! My poor bum." Alex rubs his behind exaggeratingly. Good God I really did not need to see that.
"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzz," Maria whines. Wow, I never thought my name could sound so annoying. I immediately feel kind of bad and go to help her up. She takes my hand pouting, and then grins. Uh oh. I know that grin.
My reaction time is slow when she tugs suddenly.
And down I go.
THUD!
If it didn't hurt so bad I'd be giggling with Maria. But damn, my poor bum!
Good lord, Alex vocabulary is rubbing off on me.
I try to glare meaningfully at the snorting pair on the ground but my mouth keeps twitching. I go to sit next to them, when I catch a glimpse of someone sitting on the couch that's by the lockers. A blonde curvy figure. The growing laughter dies in my throat.
"Hey Isabel," Maria says through laughing.
Alex has suddenly gone pink and has lost his voice. Hmm, cute.
"Hey," Isabel says, nodding curtly at me. Gulping, I nod back, though mine probably came out as a damn bobbing like a friggin doggie on a dashboard, while hers was cool and calculated. Smooth Parker.
We stand there for a minute, tension growing. It seems that either Isabel is disgusted by Maria's childish behavior, or angry that she is sharing it with me. But then again, these are just speculations.
Nevertheless, I can take a hint.
"I'm just gonna." I jerk my hand to the outside restaurant area and walk out. Whoa, deja vu. I did the same thing when I walked in on Maria and Michael's fight.
My antennae are still out in the restaurant where I threw them in jubilance.
I take my sweet time going to get them, straightening ketchup bottles as I go, and picking up stray napkins. Finally, ten minutes later, I go cautiously back to the swinging door and go to open it.
That is, I go to open it, until I hear my name. And then I do something that is incredibly stupid. But you would do the same were you in my position. Don't lie.
I eavesdrop.
I can't catch all of it (stupid thick door) but I hear enough. Enough to have the entire feeling of hope whoosh out of me like a punctured balloon, and enough to have me curse my stupidity. Why do I always do this? Always fall for it.
"So you ready.go.annual Friday night movie?" Isabel. But I can't catch every word.
"Almost.ask...Liz.go?" I can hear Maria's bounciness.
"Yea." Alex, his tone earnest.
Pause
"I.not sure.not.good idea.don't want.to come." Isabel says uncertainly.
Pause
"Why." Alex. His voice is hard.
".don't trust her.what if she.secret.not sure.don't like her.out there.weird.what if." Isabel. I can hear the disgust dripping off her words.
There's more, but I blocked it out. I don't need more negativity. I do just fine on my own thank you very much. I slump down onto the floor of the Crashdown.
Eww. Someone needs to take a broom to this floor. One dust bunny, two dust bunny, three... my eyes are blinded now by a hot liquid threatening to spill.
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.
Damn it! The tears are already burning my nose, and streaking my face. WHY? WHY WHY WHY?
Why do I care what Isabel has to say or not say?
Why do I care that I wasn't invited to whatever they are going to do?
Why am I crying about something I don't care about, about something that is not that big of a deal?
Why am I continuously a boil on the butt of humanity?
WHY?!
This is so stupid. [I]I'm [/I] so stupid.
I stay this way for a while. A long while. Maria and Alex came to invite me to their movie night, but I stayed in the shadows so they couldn't see my face and told them I was too tired. They tried to protest, almost sensing something wrong.but I managed to convince them that all I needed was sleep. And they bought it.
And in a way I am too tired. I'm tried of this high and low feeling of hope. I'm tired of pity, I'm tired of being such a hypocrite, I'm tired of the world hating me. I'm tired of my contradicting thoughts. A certain song comes to mind. "I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does."
Too bad I'm not everybody else.
An hour or so later, I finally stand up, brush off my friends and companions, the dust bunnies (bye bye Fred), and stretch out my muscles. I sullenly push through the hateful swinging door and trudge up the stairs, creeping past my aunt and uncle's room, to end up in mine. I should probably get that much needed rest that I am talking about, but right now I don't think I could fall asleep even if I tried. I'd just sit there, staring into the dark, all the things I keep locked away in a handy dandy box in my head would come pouring out.
Enough. I need to get away from this. Away from my thoughts. Away from.my life.
I shove open the window and step out onto the balcony, throwing myself into a grimy lawn chair. Momentarily, I glance down at the cement. Why hello there Fred. What ever are you doing up here?
Sadly, not even Fred the dust bunny can make me forget.
Why is it, that when you try so hard to block everything out, you try so hard to be ice, to be numb, to prevent any sentimentalities from penetrating your walls and layers.
Why is it that when you attempt to do so, it never works? The sadness, the hurt, it seeps into you. Pushing through to suffocate you and to choke your breath? Rising in you to abscond out of you in the form of a strangled cry?
"Liz?"
Startled, I jump a bit. Are the voices in my head coming out to speak to me out loud again? I freeze, straining my ears.
"Liz, are you awake?" There's the voice again. When I realize what the voice said, I snort. What, am I suppose to answer you if I'm asleep? Now THAT makes a whole hell of a lot of sense.
The voice came from the ally behind the Crashdown. That means the person is right below the balcony.
It's probably some criminal rapist dude. Cool. Bring it on. But wait? How did they know my name?
Hehe, I'm playing. I know exactly who it is, and for some reason, I know that I would recognize that voice anywhere.
"Hey Max," I stare down at him.
He stares back.
Hmm, this could go on all night. Wait a minute. Why isn't he out with Isabel and them, doing their annual, Friday night whatever hoopla that I'm not worthy enough of damaging their auras with my slimy presence?
"Whatcha doing here Max?" I ask flatly. "Why aren't you out with the rest of your gang for your annual Friday night movie or whatnot?"
Now tell me this, WHY did I ask that? I really don't want the answer to that. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Is there a reason I can't remember that? Note to self, never ask a question that you don't want the answer to. It's mundane.
All right, now that I have locked that one away.
Max smiles sardonically at me. "I tend not to go my parents house much. Its not really a welcoming spot right now,"
And yes, that would be her foot going into her mouth! She shoots, she scores!
What?! My uncle watches way too much ESPN. It's seeping into my brain. And God knows that what seeps into my brain, ends up coming out in my psycho thoughts.
Anyways, um oops? I remember vaguely someone telling me that Max doesn't live at home, but I always shrugged it off. I mean, he's a year older than me. Eighteen, I'm pretty sure. I always thought he just moved out early or something. It never occurred to me that there might be a STORY behind that.
"Sorry," I say.
I see him shrug. "Not your fault."
Well. There's a new one.
Oh yea. There's probably a reason Max came over here. Does he need to talk to Jeff? No, he would have used the entrance. Ok, then what? Nighttime stroll? An undeniable urge to join the "I like to put down Liz" club? What?
After a silence, he asks. "So. Can I come up?"
"I don't know. Can you?" Oh my God. Oh my FREAKING God. I did NOT just say that. PLEASE. Someone tell me I did NOT just say that. Urg, that's what my mother used to say in trying to get me to be more polite. Oh please, no. No, no.
Max smirks. "Ok, then MAY I come up?" Shit. His mom was probably the same way. Great, now he is most likely going to associate me with his mom. Not that I care what he associates me as. But if he associates me with his mom, then that's just wrong. Because you wouldn't.with your mom.I mean.
Ok, I seriously need to stop thinking. NOW.
Coloring slightly, I answer, "Um, yea. Sure."
And he scampers up here so fast there must be a burn on the ladder. Despite myself, I smirk. "Nice," I say. Nice. Wonderful, here we go again.
He smiles. "Yea I work out," he jokes, flexing his muscles exaggeratingly.
GAH.
My throat starts working at the sight of that. Whoa there doggie. Slow down Parker! Where the HELL are my thoughts taking me? In un-chartered, OFF LIMITS territory, that's where.
Stop it. Stop it right now.
I take a shuddering breath and look up at him.
Wow, was THAT a mistake. His eyes are boring into mine, the warm amber darkening somehow, in.in what? My own eyes widen, trying to decipher the expression I see there.
Suddenly Max pulls back. He runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath. "I heard what happened with Isabel." He says.
Well. That's one way to put a damper on the mood. I turn away.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I say tenaciously. I don't want to think about it.
"Ok. But can I say one thing?" He pleads. Damn those puppy dog eyes. Actually, damn the eyes all together. Why am I such a sucker for those eyes?
"I doubt I'd be able to stop you one way or the other," I say, rolling my eyes. Ha, that's it. Throw the ole 'tude in his face. That'll throw him off the fact that your heart is beating a mile a minute, for no apparent reason.
"I just want to apologize for her. I honestly don't know what has gotten into her these days. I'd blame it on PMS but she dragged me to the drug store two weeks ago, so that cant be it."
I snort. This Max is a hilarious one. But then, we've already covered that.
His eyes are dancing with mirth at his little joke, and he seems please that I acknowledged it with a snort. Then he sobers, his eyes serious.
Ok enough with the eyes already. I'm getting distracted here. Though with the topic of the conversation, I think I'd rather be distracted.
"I really am sorry for that. She shouldn't have done that," Max is looking at me earnestly, pleading for.for what? I'm starting to get pissed here. Is there a reason everyone apologizes FOR Mistress high and mighty? Hmm? Because I am quite sick of hearing lies.
So I just stand there, my form tense, and my eyes glaring. And everything is building, swelling within me. All the things that I never let out, all the pain, the hurt, the memories, the sadness.it's all bottling up. And right now, it's threatening to explode.
Max seems to know this. His face is alarmed, and he lightly touches my arm. His touch, sweet and tentative, is hits me straight to the core. [I]Zing[/I]
For one moment, I consider telling him everything. About my father, about Pam, about Tess, about Doug, and about the horrid day at the lake when I really started to become lost.for a minute, I wonder wildly if he could make everything all better.
Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid me. Why do I even bother hoping, latching on, and waiting? Life is shit. Why cant I accept that and move on, and not stick around, wanting something better? Never gonna happen..
Everything is still whirling inside, bubbling up like acid, like puke (because there's a worthwhile analogy), and finally, I just can't take it anymore.
"Liz.?" Max asks again.
Just leave, I pray, just leave before I totally loose it.
"Its just not fair," I whisper, my voice reflecting the tears that are welling up in my eyes again. I sniffle pathetically. "Its just not fair," My voice cracks a little on 'fair.' Wonderful. Because this is just what Max needs, to have to deal with a sobby, blubbering me right now. I wipe furiously at my wet eyes, but the tears keep coming. Damn it! Not now! I so do not want to cry in front of him.
He moves forward quickly, and all of a sudden, I am enveloped by warmth, by his strong (as he proved just a few minutes ago) arms. To further my shock, I find that I'm allowing him to hug me, and I melt into his embrace for a while. A few more tears escape, and then I stop crying, shocked into submission by the feeling of being wrapped up in someone. How is it that Max Evans can control my tears, but no matter how I try, I cannot? And how long has it been since I last allowed myself to seek comfort in someone else?
And the warmth.it's seeping into me (and oh God, we know what happens when something seeps into me) and banishing away the cold. It's.nice.
I swear to God, when this is over, I am heading straight for the library for that damn Thesaurus. Honestly. But it is.
And I come to the shocking, amazing realization, that I feel [I] SAFE [/I]. Now, if you want to talk about something that I haven't felt in a long time, well this would be it. Its right up there with Love, and Happiness.
Weirdness.
"Sorry," I say. "You probably don't, I mean, well, you did your duty. You can go home now. I'll be fine," I say again in the same weak useless voice that makes me cringe. I instantly back slightly away, but Max tightens his hold on me.
Now tell me this. Is there a reason I can't leave well enough alone? I used to wonder if I had a permanent kick me sign on my back, but now I wonder if I'm a glutton for punishment.
His eyes widen in shock. "What do you.you really think that I am doing this for Princess Icicle?" He laughs hollowly. Icicle? Hmm. "I know what's going on with Isabel. But what I don't know is how YOU are. That's why I came over here. Not to mediate between you two. I was.well."
The absolute LAST thing I expected myself to do was smirk. Obviously it is the last thing Max thought I would do too. He raises an eyebrow at me. "What?" He asks curiously.
My smirk grows wider and I look up at him. "You're cute when your stuttering," I say, and then my mouth drops open.
What is WITH my total lack of control tonight!!!? I immediately clap my hand over my mouth (yea, because THAT will have the power to retract what I just said).
Max laughs, and flicks away one of my tears. I ignore the way it sends another jolt through me. "Yea, well there's something you ought to know." he leans forward secretively.
"Oh yeah?" I say wittingly. "What?"
"You look cute when you cry. But since I've never seen a full out smile from you, I guess I can't make a proper comparison."
Well now, who would have guessed that Max was another Mr. Radio? You know, the smooth talker types.
I roll my eyes, trying to convince the damn butterflies that awoke at his comment to shut up. "I smile," I protest.
That is a blatant bald-faced lie. But then, how would he know?
"No," Max says sadly, looking contrite almost. "You don't."
I suck in my breath. I know what's coming next.
"Why?"
I look away towards my bedroom window, focusing on that for a while. Then I turn back but stare at his ears, rather than his eyes. His eyes are my undoing, so I rightfully stay away. But then his ears aren't that much better. They stick out funny like. Hehe. I would laugh if I weren't about to cry.
"Man those are big suckers, aren't they," I try to joke, but my voice doesn't come out light enough.
Max just gives me a look. The infamous, 'I-know-what-you-are-doing-and-its- not-going-to-work' kind of look. But then to my surprise, he drops it. A mixture of relief and wonder flows through me.
I think its time for a subject change, don't you? Remembering his earlier comment, I am infused with curiosity.
"Max.?" I ask tentatively. He lets go of me slowly, almost...reluctantly?
Now there's a laugh. MAX reluctant to let go of ME. Most likely he was waiting for the moment where his utter relief wouldn't seem so obvious.
"Hmm?" He says in reference to my unfinished inquiry.
"Why don't you live with your parents?" I ask, biting my lip.
He's not looking at my eyes. Rather, he looking at my.chin? My nose? My.lips??
It's something along those lines. And he appears not to have heard me. There are very few situations where I do not like to be ignored. This is one of them.
"MAX" I say louder. Hellllooooooo? Anyone in there among the bricks and wood?
"Oh, yea, what?" He says.
Poor guy doesn't have that good of an attention span now does he? I repeat the question, and a change goes over his features. Anger, and sadness mar his handsome face. (I did NOT just think that) He draws back some more.is that panic I see on his features?
Immediately I'm alarmed. "Max?"
He shakes his head. "I rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."
Lovely. He has found an alternative to "if you want." And why is he getting all defensive?
"Why not?" I ask, pushing it.
He breathes out some frustrated air, and pierces me with those damn eyes. "I just don't,"
Well. I'll try one more time. "Max."
He interrupts. "Liz? Don't you have some things that you would rather not talk about? Things that are better left alone?" He doesn't say it in a mean way; on the contrary, he's very nice about it. But nevertheless, it still whacks me in the face. I think of my dad, of his cold indifference, of my mom, her crumbling face, of Tess, of Pam, of their leering face, and of Doug, his eyes not meeting mine.
"Yea," I answer. Too many things.
Max nods, his face sad. "Then you understand."
I nod back, my eyes looking into his (did I not tell myself NOT to do that?) in wonder.
What an odd feeling. Sharing a moment with someone where no words are needed but you feel this.this.CONNECTION. This understanding with someone, this supporting comprehension.
Unbelievable and totally strange.
But.
Also.
Completely and truly wonderful.
HA! How's that for a better word for nice?
And then I realize.
This is the first moment where time is actually on my side and cooperating with me. Well what do you know?
For this is the first moment that feels like it is being rightfully stretched out for an eternity.
So I guess time doesn't really suck all that much after all, huh.