Part Four
"You can't go home again It's not there, my friend There's not a single sign Of what you left behind Waitin' round the bend" - The Badlees
Liz moves over me, her long, silky hair brushing across my chest. Her cheeks are flushed, her skin glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. She moves slowly at first, her eyes locked on mine, then her motions increase as she throws her head back and releases a moan of pleasure.
I could lie like this forever, just watching her take what she wants, bold, unabashed at our intimacy. I get lost in the movement of her body, her perfect skin, the sounds of ecstasy that escape her lips as she climaxes. She collapses on top of me and I feel the happiest I've ever been. This is perfect - I've always known this was how we were meant to be.
But then she lifts her head and her expression is anything but perfect. "Get out," she says venomously, pulling the blankets around her body and sliding off to one side.
I shake my head - I couldn't possibly have heard her correctly.
"I want normal," she says as she rolls onto her side, her back to me. "You're a freak, Max. Get out."
The sky above me is black, dotted with thousands of stars. I have no idea what time it is. All I know is that I was awakened by that dream and I have an uncomfortable feeling that it won't be the last time I have it. To my right, the old radio tower lays toppled, a sad analogy for a relationship that also didn't stand the test of time. Liz and I slept here once before, curled together after she'd almost given herself to me to help me find out something about my past. She hadn't been interested in 'normal' then. All she'd cared about was us, our relationship, our love.
I dreamed for so many years of taking her into my arms, tasting her lips once again, that suddenly knowing that will never happen is somewhat paralyzing. I'm not sure what to do. It's like I've lost my focus in life. The bad guys have been defeated; I was to come home and reclaim my bride. I already had our future planned for us, even if Liz didn't know about it yet. But now the future is uncertain.
And I'm lying alone in the desert. I suppose I should be afraid. I suppose Michael and Isabel are wondering where I am. Isabel is more casual about my coming and going, but Michael still worries, silently, that someone is trying to kill me. I feel a little guilty that I didn't tell him I was running away from home to go out to the desert and lick my wounds. I hope he'll understand and I hope he gets some sleep tonight.
We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars.
Counting Crows. 1999, I believe. The sky does look like a bowl of stars, doesn't it? I remember Liz looking up that night we found the orb and marveling at how many stars there were in the sky. We were so young, so naïve. I knew nothing of Antar or plots on my life or former wives who would come back to haunt me. I knew I was different and that being different to Liz was a good thing. She helped me unravel the mystery of who I am.
Which is why I'm having a hard time digesting her rejection. I'm pretty sure it was genuine. There's no hope for us any more. I just don't understand the bitterness with which her words were spoken. It's a rare thing to have someone tell you they were hoping to never see you again and really mean it.
I drove away from her house stunned. Then I came to this place and the numbness took over. I've fought a thousand battles, killed more beings than I care to admit, but it only took one petite brunette to destroy me.
What am I doing back here in Roswell? Mom and Dad passed away three years ago (which is why Isabel came back to New Mexico before me and Michael, but that's a different story). I have two siblings - Michael and Isabel. And one friend - Maria. What am I doing here?
Did I really think I could just come home and everything would be like it was when I left? Everything has changed. Everyone has changed.
My eyes drift back up to the sky. The stars are the same. They're a constant. I'm sure that they come and go, but there are so many of them, how can we tell? So, is this what my life boils down to - the only stable thing I have to hold onto is the stars? They're not much comfort.
I wish I had accepted some of that root stuff Maria tried to give me the other day. Because I definitely need to relax and God knows I'm afraid to go back to sleep.
*****
"What are you doing out here?"
Isabel strides toward me, her long legs encased in black leather. She squats before me, her smile gentle.
"Nothing," I say truthfully.
She smiles a little wider. "Hiding?"
"Not really. Licking the wounds."
"What happened?"
I sigh. "Rejection."
Her smile fades away. "Liz gave you the boot?"
I nod. "Yeah, again." She looks uncomfortable, like she doesn't quite know what to say, so I let her off the hook. "I know you warned me. And Maria warned me. And Michael told me to let go. But none of you could help me, Iz. I needed to do this myself."
Isabel reaches out and touches my arm and I'm not sure if I feel it or if I only think I feel it. "I'm sorry, Max." Her eyes are soft, her expression sympathetic. As she withdraws her hand, she glances at the radio tower. "Why here?"
I sit up on my elbows. "This is where Liz and I found the orb."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I point slightly behind her, to the exact spot where we dug together to unearth the communicator.
"Right there?" Isabel confirms, pointing at the same spot.
I nod and suddenly a patch of flowers covers the area, totally out of place for the desert but perfectly accepted in a dream. My sister's smile is wide.
"Doesn't that look better?" she asks.
I smile back at her because she is only trying to make me feel better.
"Don't stay out here forever," she says as she stands. "Come home soon. Moping alone will do you no good. You and Michael can sit on the couch and brood together." She says the last with a laugh and it sparks my interest.
"Iz, what is going on with you and Michael?"
But she cocks her head and gives me a wink, then disappears.
*****
I've gone from not wanting to sleep to only wanting to sleep. I get up when I need to relieve myself or when I need to move from the couch to the bed because my body is getting sore. Asleep, in my dreams, I can live any life I want. The longer I avoid the outside world, the longer I can avoid the pain.
Occasionally, the bad Liz dreams come where she belittles me or yells at me, but they are almost worth the times when the good Liz dreams come. Sometimes we just walk and talk together. Sometimes we just hold one another. Sometimes we make love.
Every now and then, Isabel reappears in my dreams, I think just to make sure I haven't lost my sanity. It's an odd form of communication that my sibling and I have. No point in leaving notes on the refrigerator door, not when you can just step into someone's head and deliver the message yourself.
I haven't seen Michael in days. Mostly because I've been sleeping so much, partly because he's off doing something, although I'm not sure what. Maybe looking for a job - he never was able to sit still. It's all fine, though, because I really don't feel like talking to anyone.
Lying on my side, I watch the afternoon sunlight fade to a pinkish tone through Isabel's curtains. As soon as she left for work, I claimed her bed, snuggled into her fluffy white blankets. When we were children, we always slept together, more as a comfort than anything else. We didn't like being alone, not even for the night. Crawling into her bed feels natural, like coming home - I do my best sleeping here.
I hear the front door of the apartment close and I can only assume she's home, weary from a long day on her feet. Or it's Michael back from whatever it is he's doing. When I feel someone's presence near the door, I assume it's Iz - Michael never enters her room when I'm around as a witness.
I hear a light sigh, then feel the bed move as someone sits down. Light perfume greets my senses - I was right, it's Isabel. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder and I draw in a weary breath.
"I'm okay, Isabel," I say tiredly. "I don't need to talk or anything." We go through this nearly every day - she comes home, finds me, tells me it's okay if I need to talk.
"It's not Isabel."
My eyes pop open wide and I look over my shoulder at Maria, who is looking at me with so much concern in her eyes that I feel my whole world start to shake. I never wanted this moment to come. I never wanted to let down my guard. I wanted to be in a coma for the next however many years it took until I died. And she has ruined that.
My eyes burn and I'm too tired to keep the tears from coming. Ashamed, I turn my back on her, burying my face in Isabel's overly-puffy pillow. I also didn't want Maria to see me like this, broken into bits. I want her to leave me to my misery, now that she has shattered me with her mere presence.
Then I feel the bed move as she stretches out behind me. Her arm circles my body, around my chest, and pulls me into her. She lays her head against mine and all control is gone. The mighty king, wailing like a child, unable to stop the flood of emotions that have been bottled for too long. Surely I've scared her into bolting for the door.
But she doesn't, she only kisses the side of my head and whispers against my ear, telling me it will be okay and that I don't need to hold it in anymore. Her hand caresses my chest; I reach up and clasp it in my own, holding onto her for fear she'll let go of me. Squeezing my eyes closed as tightly as I can, I just sob, and all the while she talks to me and holds my hand and touches my hair.
Finally, I can grieve. I can let go.
"You can't go home again It's not there, my friend There's not a single sign Of what you left behind Waitin' round the bend" - The Badlees
Liz moves over me, her long, silky hair brushing across my chest. Her cheeks are flushed, her skin glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. She moves slowly at first, her eyes locked on mine, then her motions increase as she throws her head back and releases a moan of pleasure.
I could lie like this forever, just watching her take what she wants, bold, unabashed at our intimacy. I get lost in the movement of her body, her perfect skin, the sounds of ecstasy that escape her lips as she climaxes. She collapses on top of me and I feel the happiest I've ever been. This is perfect - I've always known this was how we were meant to be.
But then she lifts her head and her expression is anything but perfect. "Get out," she says venomously, pulling the blankets around her body and sliding off to one side.
I shake my head - I couldn't possibly have heard her correctly.
"I want normal," she says as she rolls onto her side, her back to me. "You're a freak, Max. Get out."
The sky above me is black, dotted with thousands of stars. I have no idea what time it is. All I know is that I was awakened by that dream and I have an uncomfortable feeling that it won't be the last time I have it. To my right, the old radio tower lays toppled, a sad analogy for a relationship that also didn't stand the test of time. Liz and I slept here once before, curled together after she'd almost given herself to me to help me find out something about my past. She hadn't been interested in 'normal' then. All she'd cared about was us, our relationship, our love.
I dreamed for so many years of taking her into my arms, tasting her lips once again, that suddenly knowing that will never happen is somewhat paralyzing. I'm not sure what to do. It's like I've lost my focus in life. The bad guys have been defeated; I was to come home and reclaim my bride. I already had our future planned for us, even if Liz didn't know about it yet. But now the future is uncertain.
And I'm lying alone in the desert. I suppose I should be afraid. I suppose Michael and Isabel are wondering where I am. Isabel is more casual about my coming and going, but Michael still worries, silently, that someone is trying to kill me. I feel a little guilty that I didn't tell him I was running away from home to go out to the desert and lick my wounds. I hope he'll understand and I hope he gets some sleep tonight.
We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars.
Counting Crows. 1999, I believe. The sky does look like a bowl of stars, doesn't it? I remember Liz looking up that night we found the orb and marveling at how many stars there were in the sky. We were so young, so naïve. I knew nothing of Antar or plots on my life or former wives who would come back to haunt me. I knew I was different and that being different to Liz was a good thing. She helped me unravel the mystery of who I am.
Which is why I'm having a hard time digesting her rejection. I'm pretty sure it was genuine. There's no hope for us any more. I just don't understand the bitterness with which her words were spoken. It's a rare thing to have someone tell you they were hoping to never see you again and really mean it.
I drove away from her house stunned. Then I came to this place and the numbness took over. I've fought a thousand battles, killed more beings than I care to admit, but it only took one petite brunette to destroy me.
What am I doing back here in Roswell? Mom and Dad passed away three years ago (which is why Isabel came back to New Mexico before me and Michael, but that's a different story). I have two siblings - Michael and Isabel. And one friend - Maria. What am I doing here?
Did I really think I could just come home and everything would be like it was when I left? Everything has changed. Everyone has changed.
My eyes drift back up to the sky. The stars are the same. They're a constant. I'm sure that they come and go, but there are so many of them, how can we tell? So, is this what my life boils down to - the only stable thing I have to hold onto is the stars? They're not much comfort.
I wish I had accepted some of that root stuff Maria tried to give me the other day. Because I definitely need to relax and God knows I'm afraid to go back to sleep.
*****
"What are you doing out here?"
Isabel strides toward me, her long legs encased in black leather. She squats before me, her smile gentle.
"Nothing," I say truthfully.
She smiles a little wider. "Hiding?"
"Not really. Licking the wounds."
"What happened?"
I sigh. "Rejection."
Her smile fades away. "Liz gave you the boot?"
I nod. "Yeah, again." She looks uncomfortable, like she doesn't quite know what to say, so I let her off the hook. "I know you warned me. And Maria warned me. And Michael told me to let go. But none of you could help me, Iz. I needed to do this myself."
Isabel reaches out and touches my arm and I'm not sure if I feel it or if I only think I feel it. "I'm sorry, Max." Her eyes are soft, her expression sympathetic. As she withdraws her hand, she glances at the radio tower. "Why here?"
I sit up on my elbows. "This is where Liz and I found the orb."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I point slightly behind her, to the exact spot where we dug together to unearth the communicator.
"Right there?" Isabel confirms, pointing at the same spot.
I nod and suddenly a patch of flowers covers the area, totally out of place for the desert but perfectly accepted in a dream. My sister's smile is wide.
"Doesn't that look better?" she asks.
I smile back at her because she is only trying to make me feel better.
"Don't stay out here forever," she says as she stands. "Come home soon. Moping alone will do you no good. You and Michael can sit on the couch and brood together." She says the last with a laugh and it sparks my interest.
"Iz, what is going on with you and Michael?"
But she cocks her head and gives me a wink, then disappears.
*****
I've gone from not wanting to sleep to only wanting to sleep. I get up when I need to relieve myself or when I need to move from the couch to the bed because my body is getting sore. Asleep, in my dreams, I can live any life I want. The longer I avoid the outside world, the longer I can avoid the pain.
Occasionally, the bad Liz dreams come where she belittles me or yells at me, but they are almost worth the times when the good Liz dreams come. Sometimes we just walk and talk together. Sometimes we just hold one another. Sometimes we make love.
Every now and then, Isabel reappears in my dreams, I think just to make sure I haven't lost my sanity. It's an odd form of communication that my sibling and I have. No point in leaving notes on the refrigerator door, not when you can just step into someone's head and deliver the message yourself.
I haven't seen Michael in days. Mostly because I've been sleeping so much, partly because he's off doing something, although I'm not sure what. Maybe looking for a job - he never was able to sit still. It's all fine, though, because I really don't feel like talking to anyone.
Lying on my side, I watch the afternoon sunlight fade to a pinkish tone through Isabel's curtains. As soon as she left for work, I claimed her bed, snuggled into her fluffy white blankets. When we were children, we always slept together, more as a comfort than anything else. We didn't like being alone, not even for the night. Crawling into her bed feels natural, like coming home - I do my best sleeping here.
I hear the front door of the apartment close and I can only assume she's home, weary from a long day on her feet. Or it's Michael back from whatever it is he's doing. When I feel someone's presence near the door, I assume it's Iz - Michael never enters her room when I'm around as a witness.
I hear a light sigh, then feel the bed move as someone sits down. Light perfume greets my senses - I was right, it's Isabel. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder and I draw in a weary breath.
"I'm okay, Isabel," I say tiredly. "I don't need to talk or anything." We go through this nearly every day - she comes home, finds me, tells me it's okay if I need to talk.
"It's not Isabel."
My eyes pop open wide and I look over my shoulder at Maria, who is looking at me with so much concern in her eyes that I feel my whole world start to shake. I never wanted this moment to come. I never wanted to let down my guard. I wanted to be in a coma for the next however many years it took until I died. And she has ruined that.
My eyes burn and I'm too tired to keep the tears from coming. Ashamed, I turn my back on her, burying my face in Isabel's overly-puffy pillow. I also didn't want Maria to see me like this, broken into bits. I want her to leave me to my misery, now that she has shattered me with her mere presence.
Then I feel the bed move as she stretches out behind me. Her arm circles my body, around my chest, and pulls me into her. She lays her head against mine and all control is gone. The mighty king, wailing like a child, unable to stop the flood of emotions that have been bottled for too long. Surely I've scared her into bolting for the door.
But she doesn't, she only kisses the side of my head and whispers against my ear, telling me it will be okay and that I don't need to hold it in anymore. Her hand caresses my chest; I reach up and clasp it in my own, holding onto her for fear she'll let go of me. Squeezing my eyes closed as tightly as I can, I just sob, and all the while she talks to me and holds my hand and touches my hair.
Finally, I can grieve. I can let go.