Part Eight
"You always were a trusting man Always there to lend a hand Always believing all the good you do Comes back to you Time and time again" ~ The Badlees
There's a strange phenomenon that exists in Canada, a legend that has lived for hundreds of years. The Native Americans used to speak of the Maid of the Mist, who would lure people with no prior suicidal tendencies to jump into Niagara Falls and end their lives. Truth is that the falls have a mesmerizing, hypnotic quality to them. Michael and I were there once and it did seem that the longer I stared at that unbelievable mass of rushing water the more I felt like flinging myself over the guard rail.
Once upon a time Liz Parker was my Maid of the Mist. Once upon a time, finding Liz Parker at my doorstep or outside of my window would have been enough to let me die a happy man. The world revolved around her then, when all it took was one of her coy, sideways glances to turn me into a little alien puddle at her feet. Momentarily, I think about what has changed since then.
My first instinct is to shut the door in her face, but curiosity wins that battle and I just have to know why I have gone from wished non-existence to suddenly very important at a rather unusual time of the day. I rub the sleep from my eyes, thinking when I reopen them she'll be gone, vanished like an apparition from one of my dreams. But she's still there.
She looks uncertain, her arms wrapped so tightly around her torso I'm wondering if she can still breathe comfortably. She appears to be shaking, like she's cold or something.
"Can I come in?" she finally asks, her eyes full of uncertainty.
I stare for a few moments longer, then nod my head and step out of her way. Manners be damned - she's the one who woke me in the middle of the night - I walk past her and sit down in the corner of the couch. She shifts her weight, like she's waiting for an invitation, then sits far too close to me when she doesn't get one. I purposely get up and move to the chair, but not before I catch a brief look of rejection on her face. I don't care.
"I guess you're wondering why I'm here." she begins, working her hands together between her knees. The sleeves of her jacket are too long, hanging to her knuckles and I have to think that was cute.when she was 16. But she's an adult now and should know how to buy clothes that fit her.
I haven't responded to her and she clears her throat uncomfortably. A few months ago, I wouldn't have treated her this way. A few months ago I wouldn't have imagined she'd treat me the way she did.
"I just wanted to talk."
I glance at the clock. At three in the morning?
She gives a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I know. It's late."
Or early, depending if you're an optimist or a pessimist.
Liz plays with her fingers, works her mouth. "I'm getting married in a few weeks."
Uh, yeah, I know.
"And I'm not really sure I should be." Her cheeks redden slightly.
And I'm not sure what kind of reaction she wants from me. Did she expect I'd jump up and beg her to come back to me? No, that's not going to happen. I do have about two ounces of pride left, thankyouverymuch.
"It just seems like such a big thing, you know, committing yourself to someone for the rest of your life. And it's not that I don't love him, because I do."
Once again - why is she here?
She looks up and meets my gaze. She looks uneasy. Good. I'm pretty sure I look like I want to go back to sleep.
"I can't stop thinking that with you, I always knew what I was feeling, what I wanted to do."
Yep - just like you knew you wanted to give me the boot.
"It just felt more right." She smiles at me, obviously reliving some memory I've blocked.
Has she realized I haven't said a word yet? It certainly hasn't stopped her from babbling. It's late and I want to go back to bed, where I can dream of Maria and that kiss from this afternoon. I rise and she looks hopeful. Then I reach out my hand and she smiles as she takes it.
I pull her to her feet and I'm sure she's anticipating some big embrace or maybe a kiss or something to reassure her that Mr. Dental Hygiene is truly the one for her. But instead, I lead her to the door and open it. Now she looks confused.
"You'll get married," I tell her, my voice coming out hoarse from my slumber. "You'll marry Mike the Dentist and have a perfectly normal family, with normal children with abnormally perfect teeth. You asked me to leave you to your life and I have. Now leave me to mine."
Then I gently push her into the hallway and close the door behind her.
Back on the couch, I know I'll never get back to sleep. I'm hurt and furious all at the same time. I don't believe that Liz came over here to try to get me back. I think she came over here to convince herself she'd made the right choice in picking her husband. Cold feet must have set in and she needed a confidence booster. Sure - why not spend a few hours with the freak and then she'd see that there's nothing freakish about someone who picks in other peoples' mouths all day.
Michael appears in the hallway, his hand half-raised in defense, his hair standing on end, his eyes small slits.
"It's okay, Michael," I tell him. "Go back to bed."
I watch him walk away, impressed that his senses are still so sharp. Too bad he didn't come out while Liz was here and blast her a good one.
I think the most infuriating thing is that she basically told me she'd wished I'd died in the war and had never returned, then she showed up here thinking that we were going to have some mutual friendship. Maybe Maria has told her that she and Michael are good friends and there is no animosity between them and Liz thought I'd want to be that way, too. Well, I'm pretty sure Maria never begged Michael for normalcy and then wished he'd never returned.
My thoughts drift to the wispy blond and I can practically she her before me, smiling like she's overflowing with love for life. I imagine her climbing onto the couch with me and curling up with me like a cat. I can nearly smell her perfume, feel the curve of her body with mine. And I'm drowsy again and slowly drift off into a sleep I thought would never come.
I spend my free time after work washing and waxing the Explorer. Yes, I could have waved a hand over it and done the job in a few minutes, but I need the manual labor, just to keep my mind off the events yet to come.
Tonight is my date with Maria. My official date, that is. I'm really excited about seeing her outside of the shop, just the two of us, together. When she was busy earlier in the morning, I snuck out and bought her some wild flowers at the florist because I know she likes them.
I arrive a little before six to pick her up and I nearly gasp when I see her. Free of her normal hippyish clothes, she's wearing a pair of black jeans, a red sweater, a black leather jacket and large hoop earrings. She's pulled her hair back into a knot at the base of her neck. I always thought Maria looked good, but dressed up to go out she looks amazing.
She takes the flowers from me as she kisses me on the cheek and I wonder why aliens weren't given the ability to not blush. Chattering like she usually does, she moves about her little kitchen, retrieving a vase, filling it with water for the flowers. She doesn't act nervous, but I sure am.
In the car, she tells me she got a postcard from Kyle - he's in Peru. I get a mental image of what that guy's passport must look like by now and I feel a pang of envy. My travels all centered on the destruction of my enemies, on death. Kyle's have been all about seeing all of life that is possible. In the end, which of us is the richer man?
Maria and I eat dinner together at a restaurant my parents used to love. It has a unique atmosphere, part restaurant, part night club. It has excellent food and live music. Maria abandons her normal, 'healthy' diet and orders a large plate of pasta. That makes me happy - I didn't want her to do the old 'I'll only get a salad' routine to convince me she eats like that all the time. Then again, I would know that wasn't true, so what would be the point? I love that she's comfortable to be herself with me.
The conversation is light and we laugh a lot. I almost let Liz's visit slip from my memory. When the music starts, I extend my hand and Maria takes it.
On the dance floor, I pull her close and move with the music. I bury my face in her neck and close my eyes to revel in all of the sensations that are Maria - the way she moves against me, the sweet scent of her hair, her thin waist beneath my hand. I'm seriously thinking about kissing her when she speaks and totally breaks my mood.
"Max, I have to ask you something."
My eyes pop open at the tone of her voice. She sounds hesitant and I wonder if Liz ran straight to her apartment after I tossed her out on her ass. Or maybe they talked about it. Or maybe I'm paranoid. I pull back and look into her green eyes.
"Anything," I tell her.
She bites her bottom lip and looks straight ahead, at my chest, for a long moment. But when she speaks, she meets my gaze again. I immediately think of Liz avoiding my eyes last night when she needed to say something difficult and I realize how different these two women are.
"I need a date for Liz's wedding."
I stop moving. Is she fucking kidding me?
She laughs lightly. "Not you. I wouldn't do that to you." She touches my hair, reassuring me. "But I want to ask someone else."
I'm still not moving. "Who?"
She draws in a deep breath. "I want to take Michael."
"Oh." That's the only response I can come up with. I don't know what to say because I don't know if Maria taking Michael to a wedding is a problem or not. I don't even know if I have the right to be upset that she wants to take Michael.
Her eyes are soft. "It doesn't mean anything," she explains softly. "I need a date for the wedding, Michael's a friend." She reaches up and pushes my bangs away from my forehead. As often as she does that, I think I may need a haircut. "If I had my choice, I'd take you. But since I can't, I need a friend, not a date. I don't want to take someone who would be a date and not just a friend." Her lips curve into a smile. "Okay?"
I nod mutely, then start to slowly dance again. But I don't feel like burying my nose in her neck again and basking in all that is Maria Deluca. Suddenly, life sucks.
"You always were a trusting man Always there to lend a hand Always believing all the good you do Comes back to you Time and time again" ~ The Badlees
There's a strange phenomenon that exists in Canada, a legend that has lived for hundreds of years. The Native Americans used to speak of the Maid of the Mist, who would lure people with no prior suicidal tendencies to jump into Niagara Falls and end their lives. Truth is that the falls have a mesmerizing, hypnotic quality to them. Michael and I were there once and it did seem that the longer I stared at that unbelievable mass of rushing water the more I felt like flinging myself over the guard rail.
Once upon a time Liz Parker was my Maid of the Mist. Once upon a time, finding Liz Parker at my doorstep or outside of my window would have been enough to let me die a happy man. The world revolved around her then, when all it took was one of her coy, sideways glances to turn me into a little alien puddle at her feet. Momentarily, I think about what has changed since then.
My first instinct is to shut the door in her face, but curiosity wins that battle and I just have to know why I have gone from wished non-existence to suddenly very important at a rather unusual time of the day. I rub the sleep from my eyes, thinking when I reopen them she'll be gone, vanished like an apparition from one of my dreams. But she's still there.
She looks uncertain, her arms wrapped so tightly around her torso I'm wondering if she can still breathe comfortably. She appears to be shaking, like she's cold or something.
"Can I come in?" she finally asks, her eyes full of uncertainty.
I stare for a few moments longer, then nod my head and step out of her way. Manners be damned - she's the one who woke me in the middle of the night - I walk past her and sit down in the corner of the couch. She shifts her weight, like she's waiting for an invitation, then sits far too close to me when she doesn't get one. I purposely get up and move to the chair, but not before I catch a brief look of rejection on her face. I don't care.
"I guess you're wondering why I'm here." she begins, working her hands together between her knees. The sleeves of her jacket are too long, hanging to her knuckles and I have to think that was cute.when she was 16. But she's an adult now and should know how to buy clothes that fit her.
I haven't responded to her and she clears her throat uncomfortably. A few months ago, I wouldn't have treated her this way. A few months ago I wouldn't have imagined she'd treat me the way she did.
"I just wanted to talk."
I glance at the clock. At three in the morning?
She gives a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I know. It's late."
Or early, depending if you're an optimist or a pessimist.
Liz plays with her fingers, works her mouth. "I'm getting married in a few weeks."
Uh, yeah, I know.
"And I'm not really sure I should be." Her cheeks redden slightly.
And I'm not sure what kind of reaction she wants from me. Did she expect I'd jump up and beg her to come back to me? No, that's not going to happen. I do have about two ounces of pride left, thankyouverymuch.
"It just seems like such a big thing, you know, committing yourself to someone for the rest of your life. And it's not that I don't love him, because I do."
Once again - why is she here?
She looks up and meets my gaze. She looks uneasy. Good. I'm pretty sure I look like I want to go back to sleep.
"I can't stop thinking that with you, I always knew what I was feeling, what I wanted to do."
Yep - just like you knew you wanted to give me the boot.
"It just felt more right." She smiles at me, obviously reliving some memory I've blocked.
Has she realized I haven't said a word yet? It certainly hasn't stopped her from babbling. It's late and I want to go back to bed, where I can dream of Maria and that kiss from this afternoon. I rise and she looks hopeful. Then I reach out my hand and she smiles as she takes it.
I pull her to her feet and I'm sure she's anticipating some big embrace or maybe a kiss or something to reassure her that Mr. Dental Hygiene is truly the one for her. But instead, I lead her to the door and open it. Now she looks confused.
"You'll get married," I tell her, my voice coming out hoarse from my slumber. "You'll marry Mike the Dentist and have a perfectly normal family, with normal children with abnormally perfect teeth. You asked me to leave you to your life and I have. Now leave me to mine."
Then I gently push her into the hallway and close the door behind her.
Back on the couch, I know I'll never get back to sleep. I'm hurt and furious all at the same time. I don't believe that Liz came over here to try to get me back. I think she came over here to convince herself she'd made the right choice in picking her husband. Cold feet must have set in and she needed a confidence booster. Sure - why not spend a few hours with the freak and then she'd see that there's nothing freakish about someone who picks in other peoples' mouths all day.
Michael appears in the hallway, his hand half-raised in defense, his hair standing on end, his eyes small slits.
"It's okay, Michael," I tell him. "Go back to bed."
I watch him walk away, impressed that his senses are still so sharp. Too bad he didn't come out while Liz was here and blast her a good one.
I think the most infuriating thing is that she basically told me she'd wished I'd died in the war and had never returned, then she showed up here thinking that we were going to have some mutual friendship. Maybe Maria has told her that she and Michael are good friends and there is no animosity between them and Liz thought I'd want to be that way, too. Well, I'm pretty sure Maria never begged Michael for normalcy and then wished he'd never returned.
My thoughts drift to the wispy blond and I can practically she her before me, smiling like she's overflowing with love for life. I imagine her climbing onto the couch with me and curling up with me like a cat. I can nearly smell her perfume, feel the curve of her body with mine. And I'm drowsy again and slowly drift off into a sleep I thought would never come.
I spend my free time after work washing and waxing the Explorer. Yes, I could have waved a hand over it and done the job in a few minutes, but I need the manual labor, just to keep my mind off the events yet to come.
Tonight is my date with Maria. My official date, that is. I'm really excited about seeing her outside of the shop, just the two of us, together. When she was busy earlier in the morning, I snuck out and bought her some wild flowers at the florist because I know she likes them.
I arrive a little before six to pick her up and I nearly gasp when I see her. Free of her normal hippyish clothes, she's wearing a pair of black jeans, a red sweater, a black leather jacket and large hoop earrings. She's pulled her hair back into a knot at the base of her neck. I always thought Maria looked good, but dressed up to go out she looks amazing.
She takes the flowers from me as she kisses me on the cheek and I wonder why aliens weren't given the ability to not blush. Chattering like she usually does, she moves about her little kitchen, retrieving a vase, filling it with water for the flowers. She doesn't act nervous, but I sure am.
In the car, she tells me she got a postcard from Kyle - he's in Peru. I get a mental image of what that guy's passport must look like by now and I feel a pang of envy. My travels all centered on the destruction of my enemies, on death. Kyle's have been all about seeing all of life that is possible. In the end, which of us is the richer man?
Maria and I eat dinner together at a restaurant my parents used to love. It has a unique atmosphere, part restaurant, part night club. It has excellent food and live music. Maria abandons her normal, 'healthy' diet and orders a large plate of pasta. That makes me happy - I didn't want her to do the old 'I'll only get a salad' routine to convince me she eats like that all the time. Then again, I would know that wasn't true, so what would be the point? I love that she's comfortable to be herself with me.
The conversation is light and we laugh a lot. I almost let Liz's visit slip from my memory. When the music starts, I extend my hand and Maria takes it.
On the dance floor, I pull her close and move with the music. I bury my face in her neck and close my eyes to revel in all of the sensations that are Maria - the way she moves against me, the sweet scent of her hair, her thin waist beneath my hand. I'm seriously thinking about kissing her when she speaks and totally breaks my mood.
"Max, I have to ask you something."
My eyes pop open at the tone of her voice. She sounds hesitant and I wonder if Liz ran straight to her apartment after I tossed her out on her ass. Or maybe they talked about it. Or maybe I'm paranoid. I pull back and look into her green eyes.
"Anything," I tell her.
She bites her bottom lip and looks straight ahead, at my chest, for a long moment. But when she speaks, she meets my gaze again. I immediately think of Liz avoiding my eyes last night when she needed to say something difficult and I realize how different these two women are.
"I need a date for Liz's wedding."
I stop moving. Is she fucking kidding me?
She laughs lightly. "Not you. I wouldn't do that to you." She touches my hair, reassuring me. "But I want to ask someone else."
I'm still not moving. "Who?"
She draws in a deep breath. "I want to take Michael."
"Oh." That's the only response I can come up with. I don't know what to say because I don't know if Maria taking Michael to a wedding is a problem or not. I don't even know if I have the right to be upset that she wants to take Michael.
Her eyes are soft. "It doesn't mean anything," she explains softly. "I need a date for the wedding, Michael's a friend." She reaches up and pushes my bangs away from my forehead. As often as she does that, I think I may need a haircut. "If I had my choice, I'd take you. But since I can't, I need a friend, not a date. I don't want to take someone who would be a date and not just a friend." Her lips curve into a smile. "Okay?"
I nod mutely, then start to slowly dance again. But I don't feel like burying my nose in her neck again and basking in all that is Maria Deluca. Suddenly, life sucks.