Chapter Two: "... more lies about a world that never was and never will be..."
Kyle's POV
Strength.
Courage.
That's what I always believed would carry a person through life. Strength and courage; pushing a person to each higher level in their life. Being more than they are, being more than they think they can be. Being more than people perceive them to be.
Since my days on a high school football team, people always pushed me on. It wasn't their belief that I could be someone – it was their disbelief that urged me. If someone didn't believe I could be someone or do something, I would go out of my way to prove I could. I was raised with the confidence that I could be whatever I wanted.
Life is one larger roller coaster that never gives you the warning to put your seatbelt on. Along with this certain faith in myself came ignorance that I could change anything and everything. I foolishly believed my path in life was mine to take, and no one could take away from me.
I was wrong – horribly, horribly wrong.
My pre-alien existence was a peaceful one, albeit boring, but peaceful. I chose whom to be friends with. I chose what classes to go to. I chose who I wanted to be, from the inside out. I had the choice to be someone that others admired. I had the choice to be perfection.
It's like that saying. You never know what you have until it's gone. Swept away by the alien invasion, I was left with indecision and insecurity. Choices were no longer mine to make. Where did I belong in this new world of knowledge? How was I supposed to swallow all this? And if I wasn't who I was used to be – who was I now?
I couldn't walk away from this mess. Max Evans had saved my life, and I owed him for that. Looking back now, I wish he had laid me there to die.
Jumping from extraterrestrial disaster to the next, I never had time to breathe. In the movies, all this excitement is alluring. Adults and children alike dream of lives where they battle otherworldly forces, becoming silent super heroes. But when the movie ends, so does the fantasy. When they open their eyes, the dream is over.
But for me, the battle goes on.
I won't deny that the choice was mine whether to leave Roswell post- graduation. I was in still deciding who I was. All I knew was that I felt like I belonged with this family. I had no prosperous future in Roswell, and they offered me to be a part of something much larger than myself.. It seemed like the right decision.
I find it oddly amusing now, how I had once told Jesse that being in the know was beneficial. I was part of something "bigger than myself". Women learn that bigger is not always better by experience – and so did I. Experiencing the endless nights when we would drive on from town to town, always checking the rearview mirror. Experiencing Isabel's grief as she lost the entirety of her life in one fell swoop. Experiencing the loss of my own father with nothing more than the faint memory of goodbye.
In high school, it's all about being someone and doing something and getting recognized. Nothing really prepared me for my life after Roswell. I had an obtuse vision of my life being one long road trip with friends, facing the dark depths of the world with my companions. I never expected to be shivering in a rusted van night after night, or suffering day after day without a bite to eat.
The most awful part was watching the others. I would love to say it became one for all, and all for one, but that would be an utter lie. I watched as Max rose to become the King he claimed he would never be. After years of commanding a faux troop, it was difficult for him to loosen the reins. I suppose we all came to understand his position – but I was never one to agree with it.
We never really had a place to call home again. It was year after year of the same thing – settling in a secluded place for a few weeks, and then moving on. Although we shared the same air, we barely knew each other anymore. Through marriages and new powers, we were no more than just six strangers walking along this path together.
Maria and Michael married. Max and Liz married. Isabel and I – we were married in the solemn church of depression.
For Isabel, she had lost her passion for life. Everything she had worked for suddenly became meaningless. Her efforts were worth nothing now without a life. She had become someone, and did things, for what turned out to be no reason at all. She was left in this oblivion, where she had no purpose.
She found solace in me for some reason. I think from seeing my departure from my father allowed her to find a common link between us. Like we had both given up an important part of our lives for all this – and through that, I suppose she thought she could move on if I could.
For me, I thought I was at my prime in the beginning. Isabel turned to no one else but me. We were becoming more than friends in a way that I had never felt before. But more quickly than I thought possible, I realized that it was not enough to pacify me. The pressure of this new world was weighing down on me, and it was doing so quickly.
My powers finally came to me, and I wanted nothing to do with them. At first I hadn't even realized I was gaining my powers, if you can even call them that. I thought they were just regular dreams, coming to me like any other night. It wasn't until I finally stood back and took note of what was happening.
It came to me after waking from an odd dream one night. We were staying in an abandoned farmhouse outside of Mullen, Nebraska.
I had gone to talk to Maria, returning a book that I had borrowed from her. "Thanks," I told her as she took it back. "I fell asleep reading it last night." Right then, I noticed Maria had a bright pink bandage wrapped around her index finger. My eyes widened, recognizing the image.
"Maria," I had said to her. "What happened to your finger?"
Laughing, she shook her head. "Oh, nothing," she told me, shrugging me off. Persistent, I asked her again.
"Why do you want to know so bad?" she asked sternly.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Just listen to me, okay? If I'm wrong, you just let me know. In fact, it would ease my mind if you could scream I'm wrong the moment you realize it, okay?" She nodded with a peculiar face.
"You were sewing a hole in Liz's navy sweater – right under the armpit. You poked your finger by accident, and realized it didn't hurt." Maria's face turned white and her jaw dropped. Swallowing, I continued. "So you started poking it again and again."
"Kyle," whispered Maria heavily. "Were you watching me? I didn't tell anyone that."
Taking deep breaths, I gripped Maria's arm. "Maria, I think I've got it."
Brushing off my hand, she let out an uneasy laugh. Trying to joke, she said, "But Kyle, guys don't get their periods..." Her smile faded.
"My power, Maria. I saw it in my dreams last night. I saw what you did to your finger." Clenching my jaw, I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm telling you the truth."
Maria gave me an awkward hug. "I believe you," she told me in a hesitant voice.
I revealed to the entire group my newfound powers. Michael was resistant, of course, as if I were making a big deal out of nothing. Liz and Max listened intently, and decided collectively that it was very possible I was right. So they tested me. The next morning, I tried to recall my dream but it failed me.
Michael reveled in being correct for once.
Yet a week later, after falling asleep beside Isabel underneath a blanket, I had a dream about her. I dreamed about her eating a jelly filled donut, and feeling content for the first time in weeks. After that dream, it became apparent. My storytelling dreams were only possible when I was in contact of a possession of whomever I was dreaming about.
It was the first time I freaked outwardly. Losing my cool, I began to foolishly deny everything. That I wasn't a part of this group, that I wanted no part of this alien-healing side effect. The weight of the past nine years of my life came crashing down on me, and I threw out all sanity.
"This is not who I am!" I had shouted to no one in particular. "I'm not like this, I'm not a frickin' alien."
"Don't think that we enjoy this either," Michael growled back at me. "You had your choice and you made it."
Before I had the chance to pummel him, Max pushed me back. In the heat of the moment, I rushed out in fury. He had been right and I was the fool, but I wasn't willing to admit it. I was angry about everything. Trying to gain my cool back, I sat down on a random log. I sat there for a while. I knew my powers were a long time coming but they made my life that much more surreal.
The door opened behind me and I felt Max sit down beside me. We were silent for a few strained minutes. I think we were both trying to find something to say that hadn't already been said.
"I'd understand if you hate me," he spoke softly.
I clenched my fists. "I don't hate you."
"Whether you do or not, I would understand." Max dropped his head. "I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for us to live like this."
"That's your problem, Max! You never mean for anything to happen, but it does." I shook my head angrily. "It always does."
Max stared yearningly at the dirt, rubbing his hands over and over. I hadn't meant to sound cruel, but we had been living – barely surviving – like this for over four years.
I was exhausted of hearing Max making excuses for things he had no control over.
I was exhausted of Max taking the brunt of everything that came our way.
I was exhausted of him stupidly taking responsibility time and time again, and not even trying to learn from it. Somehow, we always found ourselves back in a bind.
"Here's the thing, Max," I told him. "You can say all the words you want but actions speak much louder." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "No one is blaming you for anything, and no one has ever blamed you for anything. This bullshit guilt you feel – it's all you, buddy. But if you are so dead set on being this perfect leader, then act like it. We can't wander forever."
"I just want the best for everyone."
I sighed. He would never comprehend. "Good luck with that then." I stood, turning to walk back inside. I only had so much energy left after these years, and I was not going to waste it on Max's self-loathing party.
"Wait, Kyle," Max called. "Please. Just talk with me."
I glanced at him. He seemed so lost and desperate, like a deserted puppy along the side of the road. I could see why Liz had stayed with him then. She was afraid that this little puppy was going to get run over, and believe me, he had come close more times than desired.
"It's not me you should be talking to, Max. I am not your wife."
I waited for a response but nothing came. He wanted me to talk with him, but he sat in silence. Irritated, I decided to make my way inside again, feeling the weight pouring down on me.
"Liz just doesn't understand sometimes." He exhaled loudly. "I love her – I love her more than anything in this world, but she doesn't understand." Max glanced at me, and I caught a glimpse of tears. "She doesn't understand that this is it. I can't give her more than this. I try to tell her that but she keeps dreaming. She keeps telling me it will get better." He shook his head sadly. "But I think we both know it won't."
I ran my hand wearily through my hair. Sitting back down beside him, I pat his knee in consolation. "Max, she's had plenty of chances to walk away from you, but she hasn't. What makes you think she will now?"
A small gust of air leaves Max's lungs, his hands clenched so tightly that I'm afraid he's going to lose circulation in his fingers. With a short glance, he announced in a barely audible voice, "Maria's pregnant."
My bottom lip fell open, and instantly I'm speechless. Maria was pregnant. My heart felt heavy. There was another life being thrown into this otherworldly chaos. I had never felt such sympathy, such pity, for an unborn life as I did for that tiny egg harvesting in Maria's uterus.
"Michael told me," Max continued. "He said he doesn't think Maria knows about it yet, but he could feel it. He could feel his child growing in her."
I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure that's not the only thing he felt if she ended up pregnant."
Ignoring my comment, Max proclaimed, "Michael didn't want to say anything to Maria yet. He's worried the baby won't make it to full term."
"He doesn't want to let her know? In a month, I think Maria will notice a little Michael pushing his way out instead of in." I cringed at the thought. "Besides, Tess had your spawn with no difficultly."
I felt Max's eyes burn into me. "That was different. We were both hybrids. Maria's totally human." He paused, his eyes turning to the dark blue above. "I keep telling Michael to talk to Maria, to sort this out, but he refuses. Liz has been having visions for the last three weeks. All she sees is Maria with her hand over her mouth, crying."
"Hold on, so how does Maria being pregnant affect you and Liz?"
"Something is coming, Kyle. I can feel it in my bones. And with all these cards up in the air, I don't know how to brace myself. I don't know what I would do if Liz left – and if she finds out that Maria is pregnant, she'll know she's having these visions because..."
"Because Maria is going to lose the baby," I finished. "And if Maria loses the baby, Liz will know she can't carry your baby. And if she can't carry your baby, Tess will be the winner. And Maria will leave is she knows Michael knew. Liz will go with her." I grumbled. "This is one fucked up situation you've gotten yourself into, Max."
"Don't I know it."
Something swiftly came to my attention.
"Wait, so Liz has been having visions and Maria is pregnant?" A wave of selfish consciousness passed over me. I felt slapped with reality. For four years I had trusted these people with my life and they haven't even had the courtesy to inform me on what's been going on? Visions, pregnancies, and lies, all buried within this small family of ours. I felt like I was in the middle of some prime time drama show. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"I'm telling you now, Kyle."
I shook my head in distaste. It was selfish, yes. But I was tired of feigning being in a family, when in reality, it was everything but. "You're fucking lucky that Liz hasn't left you yet. For that matter, you're really fucking lucky that Isabel hasn't left you either."
I watched Max grimaced from the sting of my comment. Max never wanted to discuss Isabel – it was too much of a sore spot for him. She had given up her love, her life, and her soul to follow her brother. Now her body was merely an empty shell, and Max refused to acknowledge it.
The distance between the two had grown so large that I wasn't even sure if they would be able to recognize each other on the street. It was as if Isabel gave her whole life to Max, wrapped with a bow, and he had never really taken the time to open it.
"Good night, Max," I sneered. I stood up and once again moved for the back door. I was ready for my few blissful hours out of this conscious world.
"You should leave, Kyle."
I turned around sharply, my ears prickling. What had he just said?
"Kyle, I mean it. Take Isabel, and leave tonight. Get out of this now, before it gets worse."
He, the great Max, was telling me to run.
"Wow, you're brilliant, Max," I snarled. "I'll just pick up Isabel in my arms and walk thousands of miles out in the unknown without any money or food or transportation to help me." I laugh outrageously. "You're fucking Einstein."
Max stood and grabbed my wrist. "I'm serious, Kyle. Isabel is dying here with us. I know you've been waiting for this, for your freedom. I can't keep holding you and Isabel back." He glanced inside, no doubt considering Isabel's deteriorating state. "She's drowning in this mess. I can't..." He took a breath, trying to gain his composure. "I can't watch her like this anymore. I want what's best for her."
I was offended. It was as if he thought I had been waiting for him permission all this time. But then again, was I? I was angry though, for him even thinking that.
"Fuck you, Max!" I shouted. "That's your fucking problem. You're always preaching about wanting what's best for someone, but we all know it's only about what you think is best for that person." I scowled at him. "You can't even look at her, but you know what's best for her? Maybe you should ask Isabel what's best for her before you go making all these decisions."
I jerked my hand back and stormed inside, slamming the door behind me. At that very moment, I was so disgusted with Max, myself, and the entire situation that I was very tempted to take Max up on his idea. I wanted nothing more than to walk away from the entire thing, and guzzle a much deserved beer. I needed to calm down.
"Serenity now," I whispered to myself.
I slipped into Isabel's bedroom. The silhouette of her body rose faintly against the darkened walls as she breathed in and out. In the darkness, all I could make out was a mass of poorly dyed, grown out hair sprawled across the shallow pillows.
"Max wants us to leave, huh?"
Her voice touched a part of me that felt safe and warm. A part of me I had always thought was still Roswell. I sighed and sat down beside her laying form. I put a hand on her knee and rubbed it gently.
"I suppose you heard?"
Isabel nodded her head. "I left the window open." I saw a shadow of a smirk. "I heard you tell him off." She put her worn hand on top of mine. Like the wisp of a wind, her mood had changed and I heard her tears again. "Maybe we should."
"Leave?" I questioned.
"Yes."
I sat in silence, grasping the concept. When Max had said it to me, it sounded ridiculous. Absolutely insane – why would we leave? But hearing it from Isabel's ragged lips, it sounded much more attainable – much more reasonable. Leave? Of course. Why wouldn't we?
"Isabel." I called out to her, and she clenched my hand tighter.
"I'm scared too," she whispered to me.
So we packed our things and were gone an hour later. Before leaving the house, I found an envelope with my name on it sitting on the kitchen table. Inside were two thousand dollars, and a note that read, "One last secret I didn't tell you." With that money, Isabel and I were driving away in a rented Oldsmobile by the time the sun set on the house.
Right about then it would have been nice for the house lights to fade back on, and for the credits to start rolling. We were confused and lost, unsure of what was in store for us other than a fresh start. Would it be foolish to even consider reentering civilization? Besides, what were we really running from anyway?
A week following our departure, I was thrown from my sleep when I heard Isabel's shrieking.
"I can't feel them! I can't feel them!" Her cries penetrated my skin, and I felt this deep urge to crawl outside of myself.
"Who?" I asked her, rushing to her side. "You can't feel who?"
Sobbing, Isabel screamed Michael and Max's names. Her entire body was shaking, and large beads of sweat trailed down her skin. She was so raw, so shredded, that I would have done anything to put her into new skin.
Isabel cried for days. Quite literally, I did not see her without a tear. I, on the other hand, was almost... settled with the idea. I hate to say it, but I felt relief for Max. He no longer had to carry the world on his shoulders. He was free to be without guilt or prejudice or pressure. He could just be Max – whoever that may have been.
I assumed that Maria and Liz were dead too. Max was too cautious to die, so whatever had happened must have cost all of their lives.
Isabel had only asked me once to use my powers. I refused. I didn't want to know what happened. I had learned very quickly over the years that sometimes it was just better not to know. All I knew was that Max and Michael were freed from their constraints that bonded them to this world – and in the process, Isabel had been freed as well.
I won't deny that curiosity overwhelmed me from time to time, but when we had left them that night, I vowed to really leave them. I don't know if Isabel ever blamed me for what happened – if our leaving had started the line of events that ended their lives. I think somewhere deep down, she did blame me for something – although I've never been sure what. But on another level, I knew that she was happy with her rebirth into society.
For three glorious years, we settled in a generic small town in Utah. Starting a charade that would bring us into our very late years, we played the roles of Kyle Evans and Isabel Valenti. It was a pathetic attempt to mask ourselves, but to the small town of Hoken, we were lovers from some anonymous city. Within a year, we were no longer playing the parts – we became them.
When I had first left Roswell, I had been in deep lust with Isabel. Like most men these days, she was something I wanted so badly because I knew she could never be mine. Yet as we became saviours to each other, I truly fell in love with her. Not the glorious love that pours over you from head to toe. No, it was the kind of love that you don't really notice or overly tend to, but it's there. The bland, generic kind of love that involves each other's company in the lack of anything else. The kind of love that you're just so used to, that you don't want to bother with the effort of being with someone else. The kind of love you take for granted.
It doesn't make it any less than any other kind of love – it's just not as spectacular and as much of a fireworks show than other kinds of love. When we came home from our humdrum jobs, it was just a comfort to know that I wasn't going to be alone.
Isabel was beautiful though. She was gorgeous, even with the past years displayed right on her face. She was weak, both physically and emotionally, but she was beautiful. She needed me and that's what made it so magnificent. I felt irreplaceable.
But then I did become irreplaceable.
I woke up to a note from Isabel, telling me she was leaving and not coming back. It said that she was going to follow her heart – and I knew exactly where her heart was leading her.
I just wish Jesse Ramirez really knew how damn lucky he was.
And suddenly, I was back where I was before the alien invasion had ruined my life. I was sixteen years old, clueless, lifeless, and lonely. It was the most glorious feeling I had ever had.
Leaving Hoken behind me, I went through another massive transformation, but it wasn't to change me into something else. It was to change me back to whom I was originally. I started watching football again. I wore blue jeans, with flannel shirts. I bought a pair of cowboy boots!
It wasn't until I had received the most amazing parcel from an unknown sender that my life truly changed. Inside a small cardboard box was a picture of a three-year-old Anne Guerin, her beautiful mother beside her, and a dazed Liz standing behind them. They were alive. There was a part of me that always wondered, but...
It became my new mission. I went in search of them. I felt ashamed for never doing so before, but the photograph had made me realized – they were part of my past. I knew if I wanted to have my future, I needed to reacquaint myself with my past. And if I were to truly to become who I once was, they had to be a part of it.
It took me twelve years to find Liz. It was too late though – she was buried six feet under. After much investigation, I discovered the entire story. Maria had gone missing, presumably dead. Anne was sent to an undisclosed foster home.
Liz had died from alcohol poisoning.
I couldn't believe it. Other than Isabel, whom I hadn't heard from since she had left, I was the only one alive. Alone.
It struck me as sad that out of our generation, Isabel and I were the only ones to make it past fifty. And even then, I didn't know whether Isabel was alive or not. I realized that this was such an absurd reality. For the two children moving on from our generation, was this all we had to pass on? Regret, remorse, and inevitable death. I knew it was time for me to bring more to these kids' lives.
But I was too tired to go in search of them. In my heart, I knew one day they would find me.
So that's what I do now. Wait for them. Because like Max, Isabel, and Michael, I know they'll have questions.
And I know that I want to be the one to answer them. Not just for their fulfillment, but for Max, Michael, Maria and Liz too.
Because if I don't tell their story, who will remember them?
Kyle's POV
Strength.
Courage.
That's what I always believed would carry a person through life. Strength and courage; pushing a person to each higher level in their life. Being more than they are, being more than they think they can be. Being more than people perceive them to be.
Since my days on a high school football team, people always pushed me on. It wasn't their belief that I could be someone – it was their disbelief that urged me. If someone didn't believe I could be someone or do something, I would go out of my way to prove I could. I was raised with the confidence that I could be whatever I wanted.
Life is one larger roller coaster that never gives you the warning to put your seatbelt on. Along with this certain faith in myself came ignorance that I could change anything and everything. I foolishly believed my path in life was mine to take, and no one could take away from me.
I was wrong – horribly, horribly wrong.
My pre-alien existence was a peaceful one, albeit boring, but peaceful. I chose whom to be friends with. I chose what classes to go to. I chose who I wanted to be, from the inside out. I had the choice to be someone that others admired. I had the choice to be perfection.
It's like that saying. You never know what you have until it's gone. Swept away by the alien invasion, I was left with indecision and insecurity. Choices were no longer mine to make. Where did I belong in this new world of knowledge? How was I supposed to swallow all this? And if I wasn't who I was used to be – who was I now?
I couldn't walk away from this mess. Max Evans had saved my life, and I owed him for that. Looking back now, I wish he had laid me there to die.
Jumping from extraterrestrial disaster to the next, I never had time to breathe. In the movies, all this excitement is alluring. Adults and children alike dream of lives where they battle otherworldly forces, becoming silent super heroes. But when the movie ends, so does the fantasy. When they open their eyes, the dream is over.
But for me, the battle goes on.
I won't deny that the choice was mine whether to leave Roswell post- graduation. I was in still deciding who I was. All I knew was that I felt like I belonged with this family. I had no prosperous future in Roswell, and they offered me to be a part of something much larger than myself.. It seemed like the right decision.
I find it oddly amusing now, how I had once told Jesse that being in the know was beneficial. I was part of something "bigger than myself". Women learn that bigger is not always better by experience – and so did I. Experiencing the endless nights when we would drive on from town to town, always checking the rearview mirror. Experiencing Isabel's grief as she lost the entirety of her life in one fell swoop. Experiencing the loss of my own father with nothing more than the faint memory of goodbye.
In high school, it's all about being someone and doing something and getting recognized. Nothing really prepared me for my life after Roswell. I had an obtuse vision of my life being one long road trip with friends, facing the dark depths of the world with my companions. I never expected to be shivering in a rusted van night after night, or suffering day after day without a bite to eat.
The most awful part was watching the others. I would love to say it became one for all, and all for one, but that would be an utter lie. I watched as Max rose to become the King he claimed he would never be. After years of commanding a faux troop, it was difficult for him to loosen the reins. I suppose we all came to understand his position – but I was never one to agree with it.
We never really had a place to call home again. It was year after year of the same thing – settling in a secluded place for a few weeks, and then moving on. Although we shared the same air, we barely knew each other anymore. Through marriages and new powers, we were no more than just six strangers walking along this path together.
Maria and Michael married. Max and Liz married. Isabel and I – we were married in the solemn church of depression.
For Isabel, she had lost her passion for life. Everything she had worked for suddenly became meaningless. Her efforts were worth nothing now without a life. She had become someone, and did things, for what turned out to be no reason at all. She was left in this oblivion, where she had no purpose.
She found solace in me for some reason. I think from seeing my departure from my father allowed her to find a common link between us. Like we had both given up an important part of our lives for all this – and through that, I suppose she thought she could move on if I could.
For me, I thought I was at my prime in the beginning. Isabel turned to no one else but me. We were becoming more than friends in a way that I had never felt before. But more quickly than I thought possible, I realized that it was not enough to pacify me. The pressure of this new world was weighing down on me, and it was doing so quickly.
My powers finally came to me, and I wanted nothing to do with them. At first I hadn't even realized I was gaining my powers, if you can even call them that. I thought they were just regular dreams, coming to me like any other night. It wasn't until I finally stood back and took note of what was happening.
It came to me after waking from an odd dream one night. We were staying in an abandoned farmhouse outside of Mullen, Nebraska.
I had gone to talk to Maria, returning a book that I had borrowed from her. "Thanks," I told her as she took it back. "I fell asleep reading it last night." Right then, I noticed Maria had a bright pink bandage wrapped around her index finger. My eyes widened, recognizing the image.
"Maria," I had said to her. "What happened to your finger?"
Laughing, she shook her head. "Oh, nothing," she told me, shrugging me off. Persistent, I asked her again.
"Why do you want to know so bad?" she asked sternly.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Just listen to me, okay? If I'm wrong, you just let me know. In fact, it would ease my mind if you could scream I'm wrong the moment you realize it, okay?" She nodded with a peculiar face.
"You were sewing a hole in Liz's navy sweater – right under the armpit. You poked your finger by accident, and realized it didn't hurt." Maria's face turned white and her jaw dropped. Swallowing, I continued. "So you started poking it again and again."
"Kyle," whispered Maria heavily. "Were you watching me? I didn't tell anyone that."
Taking deep breaths, I gripped Maria's arm. "Maria, I think I've got it."
Brushing off my hand, she let out an uneasy laugh. Trying to joke, she said, "But Kyle, guys don't get their periods..." Her smile faded.
"My power, Maria. I saw it in my dreams last night. I saw what you did to your finger." Clenching my jaw, I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm telling you the truth."
Maria gave me an awkward hug. "I believe you," she told me in a hesitant voice.
I revealed to the entire group my newfound powers. Michael was resistant, of course, as if I were making a big deal out of nothing. Liz and Max listened intently, and decided collectively that it was very possible I was right. So they tested me. The next morning, I tried to recall my dream but it failed me.
Michael reveled in being correct for once.
Yet a week later, after falling asleep beside Isabel underneath a blanket, I had a dream about her. I dreamed about her eating a jelly filled donut, and feeling content for the first time in weeks. After that dream, it became apparent. My storytelling dreams were only possible when I was in contact of a possession of whomever I was dreaming about.
It was the first time I freaked outwardly. Losing my cool, I began to foolishly deny everything. That I wasn't a part of this group, that I wanted no part of this alien-healing side effect. The weight of the past nine years of my life came crashing down on me, and I threw out all sanity.
"This is not who I am!" I had shouted to no one in particular. "I'm not like this, I'm not a frickin' alien."
"Don't think that we enjoy this either," Michael growled back at me. "You had your choice and you made it."
Before I had the chance to pummel him, Max pushed me back. In the heat of the moment, I rushed out in fury. He had been right and I was the fool, but I wasn't willing to admit it. I was angry about everything. Trying to gain my cool back, I sat down on a random log. I sat there for a while. I knew my powers were a long time coming but they made my life that much more surreal.
The door opened behind me and I felt Max sit down beside me. We were silent for a few strained minutes. I think we were both trying to find something to say that hadn't already been said.
"I'd understand if you hate me," he spoke softly.
I clenched my fists. "I don't hate you."
"Whether you do or not, I would understand." Max dropped his head. "I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for us to live like this."
"That's your problem, Max! You never mean for anything to happen, but it does." I shook my head angrily. "It always does."
Max stared yearningly at the dirt, rubbing his hands over and over. I hadn't meant to sound cruel, but we had been living – barely surviving – like this for over four years.
I was exhausted of hearing Max making excuses for things he had no control over.
I was exhausted of Max taking the brunt of everything that came our way.
I was exhausted of him stupidly taking responsibility time and time again, and not even trying to learn from it. Somehow, we always found ourselves back in a bind.
"Here's the thing, Max," I told him. "You can say all the words you want but actions speak much louder." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "No one is blaming you for anything, and no one has ever blamed you for anything. This bullshit guilt you feel – it's all you, buddy. But if you are so dead set on being this perfect leader, then act like it. We can't wander forever."
"I just want the best for everyone."
I sighed. He would never comprehend. "Good luck with that then." I stood, turning to walk back inside. I only had so much energy left after these years, and I was not going to waste it on Max's self-loathing party.
"Wait, Kyle," Max called. "Please. Just talk with me."
I glanced at him. He seemed so lost and desperate, like a deserted puppy along the side of the road. I could see why Liz had stayed with him then. She was afraid that this little puppy was going to get run over, and believe me, he had come close more times than desired.
"It's not me you should be talking to, Max. I am not your wife."
I waited for a response but nothing came. He wanted me to talk with him, but he sat in silence. Irritated, I decided to make my way inside again, feeling the weight pouring down on me.
"Liz just doesn't understand sometimes." He exhaled loudly. "I love her – I love her more than anything in this world, but she doesn't understand." Max glanced at me, and I caught a glimpse of tears. "She doesn't understand that this is it. I can't give her more than this. I try to tell her that but she keeps dreaming. She keeps telling me it will get better." He shook his head sadly. "But I think we both know it won't."
I ran my hand wearily through my hair. Sitting back down beside him, I pat his knee in consolation. "Max, she's had plenty of chances to walk away from you, but she hasn't. What makes you think she will now?"
A small gust of air leaves Max's lungs, his hands clenched so tightly that I'm afraid he's going to lose circulation in his fingers. With a short glance, he announced in a barely audible voice, "Maria's pregnant."
My bottom lip fell open, and instantly I'm speechless. Maria was pregnant. My heart felt heavy. There was another life being thrown into this otherworldly chaos. I had never felt such sympathy, such pity, for an unborn life as I did for that tiny egg harvesting in Maria's uterus.
"Michael told me," Max continued. "He said he doesn't think Maria knows about it yet, but he could feel it. He could feel his child growing in her."
I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure that's not the only thing he felt if she ended up pregnant."
Ignoring my comment, Max proclaimed, "Michael didn't want to say anything to Maria yet. He's worried the baby won't make it to full term."
"He doesn't want to let her know? In a month, I think Maria will notice a little Michael pushing his way out instead of in." I cringed at the thought. "Besides, Tess had your spawn with no difficultly."
I felt Max's eyes burn into me. "That was different. We were both hybrids. Maria's totally human." He paused, his eyes turning to the dark blue above. "I keep telling Michael to talk to Maria, to sort this out, but he refuses. Liz has been having visions for the last three weeks. All she sees is Maria with her hand over her mouth, crying."
"Hold on, so how does Maria being pregnant affect you and Liz?"
"Something is coming, Kyle. I can feel it in my bones. And with all these cards up in the air, I don't know how to brace myself. I don't know what I would do if Liz left – and if she finds out that Maria is pregnant, she'll know she's having these visions because..."
"Because Maria is going to lose the baby," I finished. "And if Maria loses the baby, Liz will know she can't carry your baby. And if she can't carry your baby, Tess will be the winner. And Maria will leave is she knows Michael knew. Liz will go with her." I grumbled. "This is one fucked up situation you've gotten yourself into, Max."
"Don't I know it."
Something swiftly came to my attention.
"Wait, so Liz has been having visions and Maria is pregnant?" A wave of selfish consciousness passed over me. I felt slapped with reality. For four years I had trusted these people with my life and they haven't even had the courtesy to inform me on what's been going on? Visions, pregnancies, and lies, all buried within this small family of ours. I felt like I was in the middle of some prime time drama show. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"I'm telling you now, Kyle."
I shook my head in distaste. It was selfish, yes. But I was tired of feigning being in a family, when in reality, it was everything but. "You're fucking lucky that Liz hasn't left you yet. For that matter, you're really fucking lucky that Isabel hasn't left you either."
I watched Max grimaced from the sting of my comment. Max never wanted to discuss Isabel – it was too much of a sore spot for him. She had given up her love, her life, and her soul to follow her brother. Now her body was merely an empty shell, and Max refused to acknowledge it.
The distance between the two had grown so large that I wasn't even sure if they would be able to recognize each other on the street. It was as if Isabel gave her whole life to Max, wrapped with a bow, and he had never really taken the time to open it.
"Good night, Max," I sneered. I stood up and once again moved for the back door. I was ready for my few blissful hours out of this conscious world.
"You should leave, Kyle."
I turned around sharply, my ears prickling. What had he just said?
"Kyle, I mean it. Take Isabel, and leave tonight. Get out of this now, before it gets worse."
He, the great Max, was telling me to run.
"Wow, you're brilliant, Max," I snarled. "I'll just pick up Isabel in my arms and walk thousands of miles out in the unknown without any money or food or transportation to help me." I laugh outrageously. "You're fucking Einstein."
Max stood and grabbed my wrist. "I'm serious, Kyle. Isabel is dying here with us. I know you've been waiting for this, for your freedom. I can't keep holding you and Isabel back." He glanced inside, no doubt considering Isabel's deteriorating state. "She's drowning in this mess. I can't..." He took a breath, trying to gain his composure. "I can't watch her like this anymore. I want what's best for her."
I was offended. It was as if he thought I had been waiting for him permission all this time. But then again, was I? I was angry though, for him even thinking that.
"Fuck you, Max!" I shouted. "That's your fucking problem. You're always preaching about wanting what's best for someone, but we all know it's only about what you think is best for that person." I scowled at him. "You can't even look at her, but you know what's best for her? Maybe you should ask Isabel what's best for her before you go making all these decisions."
I jerked my hand back and stormed inside, slamming the door behind me. At that very moment, I was so disgusted with Max, myself, and the entire situation that I was very tempted to take Max up on his idea. I wanted nothing more than to walk away from the entire thing, and guzzle a much deserved beer. I needed to calm down.
"Serenity now," I whispered to myself.
I slipped into Isabel's bedroom. The silhouette of her body rose faintly against the darkened walls as she breathed in and out. In the darkness, all I could make out was a mass of poorly dyed, grown out hair sprawled across the shallow pillows.
"Max wants us to leave, huh?"
Her voice touched a part of me that felt safe and warm. A part of me I had always thought was still Roswell. I sighed and sat down beside her laying form. I put a hand on her knee and rubbed it gently.
"I suppose you heard?"
Isabel nodded her head. "I left the window open." I saw a shadow of a smirk. "I heard you tell him off." She put her worn hand on top of mine. Like the wisp of a wind, her mood had changed and I heard her tears again. "Maybe we should."
"Leave?" I questioned.
"Yes."
I sat in silence, grasping the concept. When Max had said it to me, it sounded ridiculous. Absolutely insane – why would we leave? But hearing it from Isabel's ragged lips, it sounded much more attainable – much more reasonable. Leave? Of course. Why wouldn't we?
"Isabel." I called out to her, and she clenched my hand tighter.
"I'm scared too," she whispered to me.
So we packed our things and were gone an hour later. Before leaving the house, I found an envelope with my name on it sitting on the kitchen table. Inside were two thousand dollars, and a note that read, "One last secret I didn't tell you." With that money, Isabel and I were driving away in a rented Oldsmobile by the time the sun set on the house.
Right about then it would have been nice for the house lights to fade back on, and for the credits to start rolling. We were confused and lost, unsure of what was in store for us other than a fresh start. Would it be foolish to even consider reentering civilization? Besides, what were we really running from anyway?
A week following our departure, I was thrown from my sleep when I heard Isabel's shrieking.
"I can't feel them! I can't feel them!" Her cries penetrated my skin, and I felt this deep urge to crawl outside of myself.
"Who?" I asked her, rushing to her side. "You can't feel who?"
Sobbing, Isabel screamed Michael and Max's names. Her entire body was shaking, and large beads of sweat trailed down her skin. She was so raw, so shredded, that I would have done anything to put her into new skin.
Isabel cried for days. Quite literally, I did not see her without a tear. I, on the other hand, was almost... settled with the idea. I hate to say it, but I felt relief for Max. He no longer had to carry the world on his shoulders. He was free to be without guilt or prejudice or pressure. He could just be Max – whoever that may have been.
I assumed that Maria and Liz were dead too. Max was too cautious to die, so whatever had happened must have cost all of their lives.
Isabel had only asked me once to use my powers. I refused. I didn't want to know what happened. I had learned very quickly over the years that sometimes it was just better not to know. All I knew was that Max and Michael were freed from their constraints that bonded them to this world – and in the process, Isabel had been freed as well.
I won't deny that curiosity overwhelmed me from time to time, but when we had left them that night, I vowed to really leave them. I don't know if Isabel ever blamed me for what happened – if our leaving had started the line of events that ended their lives. I think somewhere deep down, she did blame me for something – although I've never been sure what. But on another level, I knew that she was happy with her rebirth into society.
For three glorious years, we settled in a generic small town in Utah. Starting a charade that would bring us into our very late years, we played the roles of Kyle Evans and Isabel Valenti. It was a pathetic attempt to mask ourselves, but to the small town of Hoken, we were lovers from some anonymous city. Within a year, we were no longer playing the parts – we became them.
When I had first left Roswell, I had been in deep lust with Isabel. Like most men these days, she was something I wanted so badly because I knew she could never be mine. Yet as we became saviours to each other, I truly fell in love with her. Not the glorious love that pours over you from head to toe. No, it was the kind of love that you don't really notice or overly tend to, but it's there. The bland, generic kind of love that involves each other's company in the lack of anything else. The kind of love that you're just so used to, that you don't want to bother with the effort of being with someone else. The kind of love you take for granted.
It doesn't make it any less than any other kind of love – it's just not as spectacular and as much of a fireworks show than other kinds of love. When we came home from our humdrum jobs, it was just a comfort to know that I wasn't going to be alone.
Isabel was beautiful though. She was gorgeous, even with the past years displayed right on her face. She was weak, both physically and emotionally, but she was beautiful. She needed me and that's what made it so magnificent. I felt irreplaceable.
But then I did become irreplaceable.
I woke up to a note from Isabel, telling me she was leaving and not coming back. It said that she was going to follow her heart – and I knew exactly where her heart was leading her.
I just wish Jesse Ramirez really knew how damn lucky he was.
And suddenly, I was back where I was before the alien invasion had ruined my life. I was sixteen years old, clueless, lifeless, and lonely. It was the most glorious feeling I had ever had.
Leaving Hoken behind me, I went through another massive transformation, but it wasn't to change me into something else. It was to change me back to whom I was originally. I started watching football again. I wore blue jeans, with flannel shirts. I bought a pair of cowboy boots!
It wasn't until I had received the most amazing parcel from an unknown sender that my life truly changed. Inside a small cardboard box was a picture of a three-year-old Anne Guerin, her beautiful mother beside her, and a dazed Liz standing behind them. They were alive. There was a part of me that always wondered, but...
It became my new mission. I went in search of them. I felt ashamed for never doing so before, but the photograph had made me realized – they were part of my past. I knew if I wanted to have my future, I needed to reacquaint myself with my past. And if I were to truly to become who I once was, they had to be a part of it.
It took me twelve years to find Liz. It was too late though – she was buried six feet under. After much investigation, I discovered the entire story. Maria had gone missing, presumably dead. Anne was sent to an undisclosed foster home.
Liz had died from alcohol poisoning.
I couldn't believe it. Other than Isabel, whom I hadn't heard from since she had left, I was the only one alive. Alone.
It struck me as sad that out of our generation, Isabel and I were the only ones to make it past fifty. And even then, I didn't know whether Isabel was alive or not. I realized that this was such an absurd reality. For the two children moving on from our generation, was this all we had to pass on? Regret, remorse, and inevitable death. I knew it was time for me to bring more to these kids' lives.
But I was too tired to go in search of them. In my heart, I knew one day they would find me.
So that's what I do now. Wait for them. Because like Max, Isabel, and Michael, I know they'll have questions.
And I know that I want to be the one to answer them. Not just for their fulfillment, but for Max, Michael, Maria and Liz too.
Because if I don't tell their story, who will remember them?