"A Different Perspective"
Chapter 6
VI
"Max, you know I don't mind Michael using the spheres… Or any of our group using them for that matter," Liz added reflectively. "But do you think it's wise for Michael to go back to the past like that… especially alone?"
Max smiled. "Who's gonna tell him if it's not?"
Liz nodded and smiled, too. "Well, I do know Michael, and I know that wouldn't be the easiest thing for anyone to try to tell him, but I just can't help being concerned about this quest of his."
"I know," Max agreed. "I'm concerned, too. But Michael has to find himself, as he put it. I don't know any way we can tell him he can't do that."
Liz shook her head. "I authorized the spheres to respond to Michael's call. He doesn't need to have them in his possession to use them you know."
"I know. Thanks, Liz. Michael will appreciate it. He told me to thank you properly."
"Properly in whose estimation?"
Max grinned. "Well, he didn't say." Max put his arms around Liz and kissed her passionately.
"Mmmm… That's a good start, Max. But letting Michael use my spheres to go back to the past alone is a really big request. Is that the best you can do?"
Max grinned and picked Liz up, carrying her toward the bedroom. "The things I do for my friends," he mumbled.
"Life can be tough," Liz agreed. "But what are friends for?"
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"Well, Michael, you're all set," Max said the next day, giving Michael a friendly slap on the arm. "Liz said just call the sphere and tell it where you want to go. It'll respond to you."
"Thanks, Max. I hope you thanked her a lot."
Max smiled slightly. "Yeah. She's making me work it out… sort of."
"Geez, Max, thanks. I don't know what to say."
Max shrugged. "That's alright… What are friends for?"
Michael studied Max's face a few moments and nodded. "If I know Liz, I don't think you were too upset with the terms, Maxwell, old pal. Don't sprain anything."
Max turned slightly red in spite of himself at Michael's obvious intuitiveness… or maybe Michael did just know them too well.
"Goodbye, Michael. Have a safe trip, or whatever it is."
Michael nodded. "Thanks, Max. You guys stay safe, too. Portal!"
"Ask," a voice said from the air.
"Take me to earth… Roswell, New Mexico… earth's date, uh, 1989… let's say, August."
The portal opened, and Michael stepped through, glancing back only to wave a final quick goodbye. He stepped out on the other side and onto a sidewalk. Turning around a couple of times to get his bearings, he recognized the UFO museum, and across the street from it, on his side, the CrashDown.
Michael shook his head. "Doesn't seem right… the CrashDown being on earth. Just seems like it belongs on Antar," he thought to himself.
As he turned, a toy glider shaped like a UFO sailed by him, and a dark-haired little girl, running to catch it, bumped into him.
"I'm sorry, mister. I didn't mean to bump into you, really. I was watching to see where our spaceship went…"
Michael looked up and saw another little girl waiting for her friend to return with the toy.
"That's okay," Michael said. "But you should be careful. If you run out in the street without looking, you might get hit by a car."
"Oh, I know that! I always look before going in the street."
"Well, that's very smart of you. How old are you?"
"Six! Today's my birthday!"
"Well, happy birthday. That's great. You stay safe now, okay?"
"I will. Thanks, mister."
Michael looked up again. A young man appeared in the door of the CrashDown.
"Lizzie! Come here."
"I'm coming, Daddy!"
The man turned to the little blonde girl in the doorway. "Maria, you come on
in, too. Why don't you girls go play inside a while. There's still some cake
left."
Michael watched as the man shut the door. He walked over, but there was a hand-written note on the door: We will be closed from 2 PM to 6 PM for a birthday party. We look forward to seeing our guests again tomorrow at the CrashDown. Thank you. Jeff & Nancy Parker, owners.
Michael stood there staring at the note. "Maria," he said to himself, trying to retain a mental image of the little blonde girl who had been standing there. "That was my Maria… and Liz."
He thought about knocking but decided against it. It wasn't what he had come for, and anyway, what would he say? "Hi, I'm Maria's husband? I'm an alien from the future, and I took Maria to a planet called Antar to live? Oh, and by the way, my friend is married to your daughter, Lizzie, and they live on Antar, too? No…" Michael smiled a sort of sheepish smile. "They'd think I was one of those UFO freaks who had finally lost it and gone over the edge, and Jim Valenti –or was it his Dad who was sheriff in '89- would lock me up and throw away the key!" Michael's smile turned into a halfway grin. Then he turned away with a quick look back and a sigh.
Michael put his hands in his pockets as far in as he could get them and walked on down the sidewalk. At the corner, he stopped to think where he should go. The answer was made for him. The sheriff's car drove by, and in the back seat was a little tow-haired boy, about six. The little boy looked scared… or perhaps confused. Michael wondered why the sheriff would be arresting such a young suspect, but there was something more, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He walked in the direction the sheriff's car had gone. After walking eight or nine blocks, he saw the sheriff come out of a building and leave without the boy.
"That's strange," Michael thought. "It doesn't look like a jail."
It appeared to be a public building, so Michael walked in. After looking around the lobby, he walked over to a man at a window.
"Sir, what is this building?"
The man looked at Michael a moment. "It's the office of children's welfare. Can I help you?"
"No. No… I just, well, I was wondering, that's all." As Michael spoke, a man entered and sauntered up to the window beside him. Michael didn't pay much attention to him.
"I came for the boy. The sheriff called and said he caught 'im hidin' out by the tower."
All the blood almost ran out of Michael's head. He would have known that voice anywhere… even after all these years. Michael turned quickly and looked. It was Hank. Michael's first instinct was to hide his face, but then he realized that Hank would not know him as he was now. And anyway, Hank was looking for a six-year-old boy.
"Sign here," the clerk said. "Sheriff Valenti said if the boy keeps runnin' away, they might have to place him with someone else. He's only been with you less than a week, and already the sheriff has had to go lookin' for 'im three times… or was it four? Anyway, he's getting' a little miffed about it."
"Don't worry," Hank said. "I'll make sure he don't run away agin."
The clerk looked up.
"Oh, I don't mean nothin' by that," Hank said. "I jus' mean I'll, you know, give 'im a good talkin' to so's he knows where he belongs. I really love that boy."
The clerk nodded, but clearly he didn't quite believe the man. A deputy appeared at the door to a room in the back.
"Mister Guerin," the clerk said. "Here's Michael. I don't want to hear that you did anything illegal, you know? You wouldn't even've got the boy except you signed an affidavit swearin' you gave up the bottle, and he's a little old to adopt. The last two children we found were taken in by a nice couple, but it's hard to find adoptive parents for these older children. I hope you really are off the bottle. That foster parent check you'll be getting' every month depends on it."
"Oh, I am! I am! I'm as sober as the day is long. Ain't touched the stuff in a year. Ain't gonna never touch the stuff agin', I swear it."
The clerk rolled his eyes but held his tongue. He was pretty sure he noticed the smell of alcohol on Hank's breath, though Hank had made some effort to disguise it with mints and gum.
"Here you are Hank," the deputy said. "Take the boy on home. We don't wanna see him in here any more. The sheriff is beginnin' to think you ain't a'treatin' him right."
"I treat 'im real good, deputy. The boy's just ungrateful." Hank planted a kiss on the top of the young boy's head. "I love this boy to death."
Michael's fists tightened impulsively, and he fought the urge to end this charade right here, but he held his peace until Hank had left.
"Sir?"
"Huh? Oh, you again. What do you need now?"
"I was wondering… how well did anyone check to make sure that, uh, that man… Hank is it… is really sober now or isn't beating the boy or mistreating him?"
The clerk sighed and put down his pen. "Mister… uh?"
"Oh, uh, Rath… Mister Rath." Michael cringed as soon as he said it. He couldn't believe that that was the first name he could come up with.
"Well, Mister Rath, you have to understand something. This is a small town. We have limited resources to do extensive investigations. The man swore he ain't drinkin' now. He gave us a signed affidavit sayin' that he ain't. If you got some evidence that says he is, just say so, but unless we see him drinkin' or runnin' around the town drunk, I'm not sure there's anythin' we can do."
Michael started to turn away.
"Oh, Mister Rath?"
Michael turned around and looked at the clerk again. "Yes?"
"You want to adopt him?"
It might have been an offhand or a flippant remark, or even a joke, but it hit Michael like a cannonball in the stomach.
"I… I can't. Believe me, I'd like to."
The clerk smiled. "Yeah, they all say that." He looked at Michael's face and looked into his eyes. "But I believe you. You look sincere."
Michael nodded and turned away quickly, as he was sure that his eyes were beginning to redden. He exited the building without looking back. The clerk picked up his pen again and sighed to himself, "I really wish you could help, Mister Rath."
Outside the building, Michael noticed a cab approaching, and he hailed it over to the side.
"Where to?"
"There's a trailer park just outside of town…"
"Yeah, I know the one. That where you want to go?"
"Yeah," Michael said, distractedly looking out the window. But he wasn't really paying attention to the scenery.
tbc