Part 2
~Liz~
September 5, 2002
I'm Liz Parker and this is my journal for Dr. Leith's Creative Connections writing class. She told us that she expects us to write in it at least once a week. She also said that she won't ever read it, so we can write about whatever we want. When someone asked how she planned to grade it, she told us to simply highlight the dates and she'll flip through it at the end of the semester to make sure there is one entry for every week. If we do, and if the entries are at least a page long, we get an "A." The only rule is that we can't write the same word over and over again. She said this like someone had actually tried that once. It doesn't surprise me. This whole college thing can be a bit overwhelming.
Of course, the fact that she says she won't read it all seems a little suspicious to me. I mean, if I were her, I wouldn't be able to resist. All those private thoughts just staring up at me? I'd die of curiosity. But, I believe her. I trust her too, so I'm going to be as honest as I can be in this thing.
Anyway, even if she does read this, she's not going to find much of interest - at least to her. I know somehow that in ten years, my problems won't seen nearly as dire as they do now, or as interesting, even to me, but that doesn't stop me from feeling right now that they are important. I'm glad that she gave us this assignment actually. She said it had something to do with the best writing coming from everyday occurrences, that someday we might actually get a story out of something that happened to us in our first semester at Manhattan University, but, I can't see that ever being true for me.
All I know is that it's nice to have someone to talk to, even if it's a piece of lined paper.
I say this as though I think I can't call up Maria or Alex to spill my guts. I can, of course. They'll always be there for me, but I find that we've all been a bit distant since the end of high school, even if Alex lives just downstairs now. I think they're both still a little shocked by what I did this summer. Even I know that ditching Harvard and running off to New York so wasn't me. Or at least the me they thought they knew. They wanted an explanation when I did it and they still want an explanation now. I don't have an explanation to give them that won't hurt their feelings, even though it really has nothing to do with them. They'll both think it does. I know this, because I tried explaining things to my parents, and they, of course, blame themselves. They think that they put too much pressure on me and that I finally cracked.
How can I explain that not going to Harvard has everything to do with escaping Roswell, that's it not about escaping them, but that, in some ways, they are Roswell?
Because, deep down, I know that my parents are more angry and disappointed than guilty. They just know that parents are supposed to feel like they did something wrong when their honour student daughter goes completely crazy and leaves her dream school after six weeks.
Of course, it was never my dream. But they have never understood that. I didn't even really understand it myself until I got to Harvard.
I wonder if my dad's ever going to forgive me? They came up here last week, in a last attempt to get me to change my mind. Why can't they understand that they didn't have anything to do with me leaving Boston? That it was, quite simply, a matter of me finally taking my life into my own hands?
I wasn't in Cambridge long before I knew absolutely for sure that Harvard wasn't for me. I had guessed long before that, but being there.I just felt trapped. It was exactly how I had felt for the last year of high school in Roswell actually. I could see my life laid out in front of me like a long, straight road. I spent the first three nights in my dorm room there staring at the ceiling, wondering how I had ended up in this position. How had I become such a boring, predictable person? But, I still wasn't strong enough to do anything about it. I went to all my classes and I pretended to like the people I met there. I called my parents once a week, telling them that I loved it, and, yet, with every passing day I felt more like I was drowning in my own boredom and misery.
The only thing that kept me going for my first month in Boston was my creative writing elective with Dr. Leith. I absolutely loved that class, and it was there that I finally figured out that I had the power to change my life.
It all started with an assignment Dr. Leith gave us two weeks in. It was to write a short story about something we had done in the last year that had taken "guts." She didn't want it to be first person. We had to make up a character and write it as though it was a fictional story, concentrating on why the protagonist had made the decision to take the chance they did in the story.
At first, the assignment almost killed me. Because, as I've stated before, I've never been known for taking chances. This was why I was in such a state then, after all. I was the dutiful daughter, following the line my parents had drawn for me from the day of my birth. I mean, it was almost like Dr. Leith had read my mind in order to find the one assignment I absolutely could not do.
It was when I was talking to Maria on the phone one night, hiding how miserable I was, as usual, and listening to her chatter about what was happening in Roswell, that it hit me. I did have a story to tell.
What I said to Max Evans in his yearbook. That was my story. Because being that honest with someone had taken a lot of courage. And, so I wrote the story, and I got an "A," and it was then that I knew that I had to feel that rush again. That I had to make decisions in my life that might not be right for other people, but that were bestt for me.
I only have one life and I have to live it the way I feel is right.
And, for me, leaving Roswell, New Mexico behind included leaving Harvard. Because, until I started making my own decisions, it would be like I was still stuck behind the counter in the Crashdown, waiting for me parents to direct my next move. Waiting for them to live the life through me that they wish they'd lived themselves.
It's not going to happen.
I'm Liz Parker and Roswell is my past. New York is my future and that's the way it is has to be right now.
***
I close my new journal with a sigh. My room-mate, Charlotte, looks up from her desk, where she is writing an email to her boyfriend in Pittsburgh.
"What's wrong?" she asks. "I thought you said that keeping a journal was going to be fun?"
"Well, I was sadly mistaken," I tell her, flopping back against the pillows on my bed. I frown when I realize that I still can't see out my window. I'm going to have to call Alex to come back and move this bed again. Even though I love New York so far, I do need to be able to see the sky from my bed. You can take the girl out of the desert, but it's going to take some time to take the desert out of the girl. I may not want to miss Roswell, but I do, even if it's just a little bit. "It just reminded me that I still haven't talked to Max."
I have told Charlotte all about Max and how worried I am that he somehow misinterpreted what I wrote in his yearbook. It was nice to have an impartial bystander to ask for advice. After all, I couldn't exactly talk to Alex about this. How could I explain what I was feeling about Max when he could just as easily twist my concern and think that I meant the same thing about him?
Don't get me wrong. I love that Alex is here. At first, I was worried about it, but he was the one who accepted Manhattan first. It wasn't like I had anything to say about it. And, just like sort of missing the desert sky of my hometown, I have to admit that it is nice to have a familiar face around.
Just not to talk about Max. Besides, somehow, in the space of twenty-four hours, Max and Alex seem to have become best friends. After all, didn't Alex's room-mate tell me they were out together earlier when I called. Alex would side with Max, even if Max doesn't have a side, particularly as I can tell already that he thinks I'm making another weird decision about my love life. I saw the expression on his face when it became clear that I was going on a date with Max's room-mate.
But that's getting ahead of myself. I'll get back to that later.
Okay, so the yearbook. By now, you're probably all dying to know what it said. I mean, I certainly made a big enough deal about it last May. I didn't mean for it to turn into the production it did, but somehow it just happened. But, in order to be able to judge what's coming next for yourselves, I better tell you want I said. I put so much thought into it at the time, I still pretty much have it memorized.
Max,
So, I know it's weird that I've taken so long to write this. All I know is that I have some things to say to you and I wanted to make entirely sure that they come out right.
First of all, I wanted to thank you for four great years. This sounds like I'm breaking up with your or something, but you know what I mean. I really had fun being your lab partner. I also wanted to let you know that I appreciate you putting up with all my babbling. I'm not usually like that, but you are easy to talk to, and you always pretended to be interested, although I'm sure that half the time you weren't.
I wanted to tell you that I regret something. I wish that I had taken the opportunity to get to know you better while forcing you to get to know me. I wanted to apologize for being so self-absorbed, and for completely neglecting to find out who [/I]you[I] are. I wanted to tell you that, really, in some ways, you are the person who knows me best in the whole world and I kind of wish that you could say the same about me. In my heart, I feel like I know that you are a great person, but I wish that I [/I]knew[I] that for sure. And I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that, now, I won't ever get that chance.
Anyway, I'm going to miss you Max. I know I'm going to. But, in some ways, I still don't really know why. I wish that could be different.
Good luck at UNM! Although, we both know you couldn't possibly find a better lab partner there. (
Liz Parker
It was only later, while I was writing the story for Professor Leith that it even crossed my mind that it might have freaked Max out. I mean, when I wrote it, I didn't expect to see him again for a long time - if ever. He was going to UNM, I was going north and that's all there was to it. I knew that I might run into him around town on holidays and stuff, but it wasn't like Max was ever going to say anything about it. Because when had Max Evans ever responded to any of the crazy things I said to him? How was the yearbook any different?
But, then, when I thought about it, I realized that he might have thought it was. And when Maria told me that he was coming here to go to school, I got a really bad feeling that it [I]definitely[/I] was.
How can I explain what I was trying to do when I wrote in his yearbook? It's difficult, because, while the whole thing sort of seems to be about him, in some ways, it wasn't. I was more writing about regret, about things that I was going to miss about Roswell, but also about things that I regretted not doing in high school - things that I had a feeling that I was going to regret not doing in college too.
My new mantra is "No Regrets." But back then, I was still full of them.
So, it wasn't really about Max at all. I told you before that I can be a little self-absorbed - I even mentioned it in the yearbook for Pete's sake! - but I really never thought that Max might be as affected by it as he maybe was.
But, see, I still don't even know that for sure. It was why I had gone down to see him yesterday. I wanted to say 'hi', but I also wanted it all out in the open, to make sure that we were both on the same page. That it was just a coincidence that we had both so completely changed our college plans at the last minute and that his decision to come here had nothing to do with me.
Now, this all might sound like I'm sorry that Max is here. I'm not. I like Max. I'm hoping that we can be friends. I even told you before that I thought he was cute and that I was intrigued by him.
But Max Evans is Roswell, New Mexico. He can fit into my new life, just like Alex can, but it can't be as anything other than friends.
And if that makes me a bitch, so be it. For the first time in my life, I am living on my terms. I can't worry about other people. I just can't.
Which is all well and good. But I am worried about Max. Which is why I need to talk to him.
It's really hard to "live your life" with "no regrets" when you're constantly worried about hurting other people's feelings. Damn my conscience!
Anyway, I was nervous when I knocked on the door my R.A. had told me was his. Because, what was I going to do if he said he had come here because of me? I was going to feel terrible.
Of course, if he told me had not come here because of me, I was going to be horribly humiliated, but I was willing to risk it. I had to know for sure.
So, as soon as the door opened, I started talking, just so I couldn't chicken out. "Hi! You aren't here because of what I wrote in your." I was looking at the floor as I started, staring at Max's shoes, but gradually raised my eyes. I had to look at him. I needed to see the first reaction in his expression to see if he was lying to me or not. Not that Max has ever been known for allowing his feelings to appear on his face. But maybe this time I could shock him into showing me something.
Maybe I should have started with the stripper in Vegas story. That would have taken him off guard.
It didn't matter anyway though. All I can do is thank God that I raised my eyes, because it wasn't Max who answered the door.
"Oh." I shut my mouth abruptly, taking a step backwards. "You're not Max."
The guy standing there looked amused. "Clearly."
I felt my eyes widen as I met his blue eyes. Wow. I mean, wow. Even now remembering the first time I laid eyes on him, it sends a charge through my entire body.
"I'm Sean Covington," he told me, sticking out his hand. "And you would be?"
"Liz," I replied, taking it and feeling the first flash of electricity run through me. "Liz Parker." I think my mouth was hanging open before I managed to speak. Embarrassing, yes. But you haven't seen this guy. He is extremely good-looking. Very tall, with short blond hair, that you can just tell would curl if he let it grow out a bit. And he sort of has that bad- boy vibe happening. Do you know the one I mean? Like somehow you just know he cannot be good for you - not at all - but you don't care one little bit.
This is college. If I can't have a crazy fling with someone who is nowhere near my type, where else can I do it? Not to mention, I'm changing my whole life remember? My usual type - the Kyle Valentis of the world.Well, it's time to try something new.
Not that I was expecting to have a crazy fling with Sean. Not then anyway.
"You're here to see Max?" Sean asked. "So that's where he's been for the past couple of days. If I'd known that he'd been hiding someone like you." He trailed off meaningfully. I could feel my face reddening.
Normally this kind of frank perusal from a guy would have pissed me off. But, for some reason, from Sean, it was just sexy.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed. He raised his eyebrows, and I quickly added. "We're just friends. From high school." I stopped, took a deep breath, barely refraining from rolling my eyes at my own behavior. "I mean, we went to high school together," I told him, enunciating each word carefully so that I didn't sound like anymore of a freak. "I came to say hi."
"Well, he's not here," Sean repeated. "But you're welcome to come in and wait if you want."
"Ummm." I bit my lip. I met his eyes. He seemed to be almost daring me to enter the room. "Okay," I said, raising my chin and beginning to feel a little annoyed.
I was also intrigued. I'll admit that much. I had never - not in my entire life - felt so attracted to someone at first sight. Particularly someone I knew I should despise because he was such a horrible, college fraternity guy cliché.
Well, who can explain hormones?
Not to mention, when have I ever had the chance to meet someone and be interested like that? I come from Roswell, New Mexico. I've known everyone there since the day I was born. It wasn't like love at first sight was even possible. I don't remember the first time I met anyone. I've just always known them.
Anyway, I know you all hate him. I hated him too - at first. And, yet, somehow, I couldn't help myself from being charmed.
Because, once I was in that room, things changed. While I was waiting for Max, we talked, and I realized that my first impression of him had been a bit off. His magnetism is undeniable, but he really is a nice guy too. He told me all about where he was from (Grand Forks, North Dakota) and why he's in New York (to become a doctor) and how he sometimes comes off as a little forward when he meets new people because he's nervous, especially here, where no one understands what it's like to be from a small town.
The thought that I made him nervous was surprising to me, but I admit that it made him even more attractive.
We talked about why I was in New York. He was the first person, besides Charlotte, that I told the real reason why I had come - to escape my hometown's expectations, which he definitely understood, although it was then that he asked me, "If you're here to escape Roswell, then why is the first person you've come to see from there?"
I tried to explain.About how Max and I didn't really know each other well in high school, but that I might have led him on in some way. I didn't want to go into too much detail. I mean, he didn't need to know the real reason that Max had come, if it was indeed because of me.
"So you like him then?" Sean finally asked flat-out. "But you don't want him to know you like him?"
"Of course I like him," I replied. "And he can know that. But not.I mean."
"You're not dating?" He asked again.
"No," I replied. I realized that my heart was beating very quickly. I couldn't tell if it was because I wanted Sean to ask me out or because I felt guilty telling Max's room-mate that we weren't dating. Which is crazy. Because we're not.
"You're not interested in dating him?"
That I definitely knew the answer to. "He's from Roswell. Of course not."
I looked at him, could see that he was examining me closely, as though trying to see right through me. Finally, he smiled. "So you'll go out with me then?"
Now, I do realize that going out with Sean might end up being awkward. I did realize it at the time too, although I said "yes" without really thinking about it first. How can I explain what it was like?
Sean is like a force of nature. One that I was just incapable of resisting. I felt like I knew him by the time I left that room an hour later. The thought of not going out with him was painful. And it was why I was in New York anyway - to meet new people and to make a new life for myself.
But what if Max had come to New York because of me? How was I going to tell him that I just couldn't go there with him, while in the same breath have to tell him that I was going to date his room-mate instead?
I knew it was wrong. I still know it's wrong. And, yet, I couldn't help myself. I was saying "yes" and by the time I thought of all this, it was too late.
In the end, I guess Max probably got the picture anyway. Because I ran into him and Alex right after that.
"Look who I found, Lizzie!" Alex called from the far end of the hallway as I left Sean's room. But I had already come to a halt and was staring at Max.
I felt my heart stop for one strange moment. But, as it slowly started to pound again, making me feel a little nauseous, I realized almost immediately that there was no way that Max could have come to Manhattan for me. He wasn't even looking at me. Instead, he was looking past me at Sean, an unreadable expression on his face.
Well, there was nothing new in that.
"I thought you said you'd take that down when I could come in," he said stiffly to his room-mate. I turned my head to see that he was indicating a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door-knob. I frowned. That hadn't been there when I'd knocked the first time.
I looked at Sean, who didn't seem at all flustered. "I forgot," he replied. "Sorry."
Max did not appear to believe him, but he let it drop. He finally turned his dark eyes on me and said, "Hi, Liz."
"Hi, Max," I replied in a small voice. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was thinking. Why did I feel guilty? I had nothing to be guilty about. Because, even if Max had come here because of me, how was that my fault? I hadn't meant for him to take my yearbook entry as anything more than my usual blather. And, yet, for some reason I still said, "I was looking for you."
"So I heard," he said. He did not smile. He turned, looked back at Alex, who was watching us all with a slight frown on his face. "Listen, Alex, I'm not going to be able to go with you after all. I just remembered I need to go talk to a professor for a class I want to take. It's full and I need to get permission."
"Sure," Alex replied easily, although he was now looking directly at me, his eyebrows raised. "We're still on for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Yeah," Max shrugged. "I'll talk to Isabel." He looked at me again, finally smiled slightly. "I'll see you, Liz." He went into their room and shut the door firmly behind him.
"Bye, Max," I said to the closed door, wondering what the hell had just happened here.
All I knew after that moment was that it was even more imperative that I talk to Max and straighten things out about the yearbook. Which is what I am sitting thinking about now.
"So why don't you go now?" Charlotte asks. "I mean, isn't it best to just get it over with?"
"I tried to call him earlier," I tell her. "He's not there. He's out with Alex."
Charlotte leans back against her desk chair, looking at me assessingly.
"What?" I demand. I've only known this girl for a couple of days, but I'm already beginning to recognize her expressions. It's one of the things I like about her. She reminds me of Maria that way.
"You seem really, really worried about what this Max guy is thinking," she tells me. "For not wanting anything to happen with him, I mean."
I sigh. "I told you, I just don't want to hurt his feelings. He's a really great guy. I've known him forever."
"But if you don't know whether he came here for you or not, then how can you be sure that you've hurt his feelings?"
"I can't," I reply impatiently. "That's why I want to talk to him!"
"But won't that just embarrass him?" Charlotte asks logically. "I mean, didn't you tell me that he's really shy? Either way too. What if he didn't come here because of you? That's going to be just as embarrassing for him as it is for you.that you thought that."
"Maybe," I admit. "He didn't seem upset yesterday," I add. "He just shut the door."
"So maybe you should just leave it alone," Charlotte suggests. "Or maybe you should ask yourself why you're so desperate to find out why he came here. For someone who wants nothing to do with anything that reminds them of home, you seem to be obsessing, Liz."
Okay, why did I ever tell her that? It was a stupid thing to say anyway. Because, it isn't like I'm not glad to have Alex around. And Max. I can pretend in my journal as much as I want. I'm still a big chicken at heart. Sure, I've made some decisions that people might not have expected, but I'm glad to have some people from home here too.
Baby steps. By Christmas, I won't need any of them anymore.
The phone rings abruptly, making me jump. I look at Charlotte, who reaches to answer it. "Hello? Oh, hi Alex. Yeah, she's here." She tosses the portable phone at me and turns back to her email.
"Hey, Lizzie," Alex says after my hello. "I'm just calling to make sure you haven't changed your mind about dinner." Alex asked me to go out tonight with he, Max and Isabel. I know that he's absolutely petrified about having to make conversation with Isabel Evans. Since Max likely won't be much help, if his past mute track record is any indication, I can sort of see why he's freaking.
But maybe Max will be different around his sister. Maybe he'll be different here in general. Maybe he'll try to talk. Maybe he's taking my yearbook entry to heart.
Maybe he came here to be different too.
Maybe I should go find out.
"C'mon, Bug," Alex coaxes, using his old nick-name for me, short for LizzieBug - don't ask, it's a long story - as though he can tell that I'm waffling. "That Sean guy is sleazy. Come and hang out with us."
"What do you mean he's sleazy?" I demand, slightly annoyed. "You only met him for two minutes, Alex!"
"Yeah, but I hear things," he says darkly.
I frown. "What things?"
"Well, that he's had a different girl in that room every night since he got here," Alex says in a rush. "I mean, c'mon, Lizzie. You don't really want to get mixed up with a guy like that, do you?"
"Who told you this, Alex?"
There's a long pause. "Does it matter?"
"Yes, it matters!"
"Fine. Max told me. And he would know."
I feel a slight twinge, although I was expecting it. I wonder why. Am I disappointed to hear this about Sean, or am I disappointed that Max didn't try and warn me himself? "Well, people can change, Alex."
"In the space of twenty-four hours?" Alex demands incredulously.
"Probably not," I allow. "But I have to give him a chance. I mean, I said I'd go out with him."
"Well, why don't you both come out with us then?" Alex suggests. "That way we'll know you're safe."
"We?"
"Me and you," Alex elaborates patiently, although my eyes narrow suspiciously.
I think about this for a moment. If I go out with Isabel, Max and Alex, I might be able to kill two birds with one stone. First, if Sean is a total scumbag, I'll be with people I trust. Secondly, maybe I'll finally get a chance to talk to Max privately, so that I can stop worrying that my every move is somehow affecting him.
Have I said before that I realize that I'm a bit self-absorbed? That I know that Max probably hasn't thought about me at all since we ran into each other yesterday? Don't worry. I do know this. I'm just trying to be honest about how I'm feeling here though.
I'm all tied up in knots. So much for getting away from Roswell. I feel like I've somehow fallen into a gigantic soap opera filled with people from my hometown. And, yet, I'm in New York. If I want to go out with a new guy, shouldn't I be allowed to? Shouldn't I be able to judge him on my own and not worry about what other people thing about him already?
The only way to resolve this once and for all is to talk to Max.
"Okay," I say. "Where you are you meeting them?"
~Liz~
September 5, 2002
I'm Liz Parker and this is my journal for Dr. Leith's Creative Connections writing class. She told us that she expects us to write in it at least once a week. She also said that she won't ever read it, so we can write about whatever we want. When someone asked how she planned to grade it, she told us to simply highlight the dates and she'll flip through it at the end of the semester to make sure there is one entry for every week. If we do, and if the entries are at least a page long, we get an "A." The only rule is that we can't write the same word over and over again. She said this like someone had actually tried that once. It doesn't surprise me. This whole college thing can be a bit overwhelming.
Of course, the fact that she says she won't read it all seems a little suspicious to me. I mean, if I were her, I wouldn't be able to resist. All those private thoughts just staring up at me? I'd die of curiosity. But, I believe her. I trust her too, so I'm going to be as honest as I can be in this thing.
Anyway, even if she does read this, she's not going to find much of interest - at least to her. I know somehow that in ten years, my problems won't seen nearly as dire as they do now, or as interesting, even to me, but that doesn't stop me from feeling right now that they are important. I'm glad that she gave us this assignment actually. She said it had something to do with the best writing coming from everyday occurrences, that someday we might actually get a story out of something that happened to us in our first semester at Manhattan University, but, I can't see that ever being true for me.
All I know is that it's nice to have someone to talk to, even if it's a piece of lined paper.
I say this as though I think I can't call up Maria or Alex to spill my guts. I can, of course. They'll always be there for me, but I find that we've all been a bit distant since the end of high school, even if Alex lives just downstairs now. I think they're both still a little shocked by what I did this summer. Even I know that ditching Harvard and running off to New York so wasn't me. Or at least the me they thought they knew. They wanted an explanation when I did it and they still want an explanation now. I don't have an explanation to give them that won't hurt their feelings, even though it really has nothing to do with them. They'll both think it does. I know this, because I tried explaining things to my parents, and they, of course, blame themselves. They think that they put too much pressure on me and that I finally cracked.
How can I explain that not going to Harvard has everything to do with escaping Roswell, that's it not about escaping them, but that, in some ways, they are Roswell?
Because, deep down, I know that my parents are more angry and disappointed than guilty. They just know that parents are supposed to feel like they did something wrong when their honour student daughter goes completely crazy and leaves her dream school after six weeks.
Of course, it was never my dream. But they have never understood that. I didn't even really understand it myself until I got to Harvard.
I wonder if my dad's ever going to forgive me? They came up here last week, in a last attempt to get me to change my mind. Why can't they understand that they didn't have anything to do with me leaving Boston? That it was, quite simply, a matter of me finally taking my life into my own hands?
I wasn't in Cambridge long before I knew absolutely for sure that Harvard wasn't for me. I had guessed long before that, but being there.I just felt trapped. It was exactly how I had felt for the last year of high school in Roswell actually. I could see my life laid out in front of me like a long, straight road. I spent the first three nights in my dorm room there staring at the ceiling, wondering how I had ended up in this position. How had I become such a boring, predictable person? But, I still wasn't strong enough to do anything about it. I went to all my classes and I pretended to like the people I met there. I called my parents once a week, telling them that I loved it, and, yet, with every passing day I felt more like I was drowning in my own boredom and misery.
The only thing that kept me going for my first month in Boston was my creative writing elective with Dr. Leith. I absolutely loved that class, and it was there that I finally figured out that I had the power to change my life.
It all started with an assignment Dr. Leith gave us two weeks in. It was to write a short story about something we had done in the last year that had taken "guts." She didn't want it to be first person. We had to make up a character and write it as though it was a fictional story, concentrating on why the protagonist had made the decision to take the chance they did in the story.
At first, the assignment almost killed me. Because, as I've stated before, I've never been known for taking chances. This was why I was in such a state then, after all. I was the dutiful daughter, following the line my parents had drawn for me from the day of my birth. I mean, it was almost like Dr. Leith had read my mind in order to find the one assignment I absolutely could not do.
It was when I was talking to Maria on the phone one night, hiding how miserable I was, as usual, and listening to her chatter about what was happening in Roswell, that it hit me. I did have a story to tell.
What I said to Max Evans in his yearbook. That was my story. Because being that honest with someone had taken a lot of courage. And, so I wrote the story, and I got an "A," and it was then that I knew that I had to feel that rush again. That I had to make decisions in my life that might not be right for other people, but that were bestt for me.
I only have one life and I have to live it the way I feel is right.
And, for me, leaving Roswell, New Mexico behind included leaving Harvard. Because, until I started making my own decisions, it would be like I was still stuck behind the counter in the Crashdown, waiting for me parents to direct my next move. Waiting for them to live the life through me that they wish they'd lived themselves.
It's not going to happen.
I'm Liz Parker and Roswell is my past. New York is my future and that's the way it is has to be right now.
***
I close my new journal with a sigh. My room-mate, Charlotte, looks up from her desk, where she is writing an email to her boyfriend in Pittsburgh.
"What's wrong?" she asks. "I thought you said that keeping a journal was going to be fun?"
"Well, I was sadly mistaken," I tell her, flopping back against the pillows on my bed. I frown when I realize that I still can't see out my window. I'm going to have to call Alex to come back and move this bed again. Even though I love New York so far, I do need to be able to see the sky from my bed. You can take the girl out of the desert, but it's going to take some time to take the desert out of the girl. I may not want to miss Roswell, but I do, even if it's just a little bit. "It just reminded me that I still haven't talked to Max."
I have told Charlotte all about Max and how worried I am that he somehow misinterpreted what I wrote in his yearbook. It was nice to have an impartial bystander to ask for advice. After all, I couldn't exactly talk to Alex about this. How could I explain what I was feeling about Max when he could just as easily twist my concern and think that I meant the same thing about him?
Don't get me wrong. I love that Alex is here. At first, I was worried about it, but he was the one who accepted Manhattan first. It wasn't like I had anything to say about it. And, just like sort of missing the desert sky of my hometown, I have to admit that it is nice to have a familiar face around.
Just not to talk about Max. Besides, somehow, in the space of twenty-four hours, Max and Alex seem to have become best friends. After all, didn't Alex's room-mate tell me they were out together earlier when I called. Alex would side with Max, even if Max doesn't have a side, particularly as I can tell already that he thinks I'm making another weird decision about my love life. I saw the expression on his face when it became clear that I was going on a date with Max's room-mate.
But that's getting ahead of myself. I'll get back to that later.
Okay, so the yearbook. By now, you're probably all dying to know what it said. I mean, I certainly made a big enough deal about it last May. I didn't mean for it to turn into the production it did, but somehow it just happened. But, in order to be able to judge what's coming next for yourselves, I better tell you want I said. I put so much thought into it at the time, I still pretty much have it memorized.
Max,
So, I know it's weird that I've taken so long to write this. All I know is that I have some things to say to you and I wanted to make entirely sure that they come out right.
First of all, I wanted to thank you for four great years. This sounds like I'm breaking up with your or something, but you know what I mean. I really had fun being your lab partner. I also wanted to let you know that I appreciate you putting up with all my babbling. I'm not usually like that, but you are easy to talk to, and you always pretended to be interested, although I'm sure that half the time you weren't.
I wanted to tell you that I regret something. I wish that I had taken the opportunity to get to know you better while forcing you to get to know me. I wanted to apologize for being so self-absorbed, and for completely neglecting to find out who [/I]you[I] are. I wanted to tell you that, really, in some ways, you are the person who knows me best in the whole world and I kind of wish that you could say the same about me. In my heart, I feel like I know that you are a great person, but I wish that I [/I]knew[I] that for sure. And I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that, now, I won't ever get that chance.
Anyway, I'm going to miss you Max. I know I'm going to. But, in some ways, I still don't really know why. I wish that could be different.
Good luck at UNM! Although, we both know you couldn't possibly find a better lab partner there. (
Liz Parker
It was only later, while I was writing the story for Professor Leith that it even crossed my mind that it might have freaked Max out. I mean, when I wrote it, I didn't expect to see him again for a long time - if ever. He was going to UNM, I was going north and that's all there was to it. I knew that I might run into him around town on holidays and stuff, but it wasn't like Max was ever going to say anything about it. Because when had Max Evans ever responded to any of the crazy things I said to him? How was the yearbook any different?
But, then, when I thought about it, I realized that he might have thought it was. And when Maria told me that he was coming here to go to school, I got a really bad feeling that it [I]definitely[/I] was.
How can I explain what I was trying to do when I wrote in his yearbook? It's difficult, because, while the whole thing sort of seems to be about him, in some ways, it wasn't. I was more writing about regret, about things that I was going to miss about Roswell, but also about things that I regretted not doing in high school - things that I had a feeling that I was going to regret not doing in college too.
My new mantra is "No Regrets." But back then, I was still full of them.
So, it wasn't really about Max at all. I told you before that I can be a little self-absorbed - I even mentioned it in the yearbook for Pete's sake! - but I really never thought that Max might be as affected by it as he maybe was.
But, see, I still don't even know that for sure. It was why I had gone down to see him yesterday. I wanted to say 'hi', but I also wanted it all out in the open, to make sure that we were both on the same page. That it was just a coincidence that we had both so completely changed our college plans at the last minute and that his decision to come here had nothing to do with me.
Now, this all might sound like I'm sorry that Max is here. I'm not. I like Max. I'm hoping that we can be friends. I even told you before that I thought he was cute and that I was intrigued by him.
But Max Evans is Roswell, New Mexico. He can fit into my new life, just like Alex can, but it can't be as anything other than friends.
And if that makes me a bitch, so be it. For the first time in my life, I am living on my terms. I can't worry about other people. I just can't.
Which is all well and good. But I am worried about Max. Which is why I need to talk to him.
It's really hard to "live your life" with "no regrets" when you're constantly worried about hurting other people's feelings. Damn my conscience!
Anyway, I was nervous when I knocked on the door my R.A. had told me was his. Because, what was I going to do if he said he had come here because of me? I was going to feel terrible.
Of course, if he told me had not come here because of me, I was going to be horribly humiliated, but I was willing to risk it. I had to know for sure.
So, as soon as the door opened, I started talking, just so I couldn't chicken out. "Hi! You aren't here because of what I wrote in your." I was looking at the floor as I started, staring at Max's shoes, but gradually raised my eyes. I had to look at him. I needed to see the first reaction in his expression to see if he was lying to me or not. Not that Max has ever been known for allowing his feelings to appear on his face. But maybe this time I could shock him into showing me something.
Maybe I should have started with the stripper in Vegas story. That would have taken him off guard.
It didn't matter anyway though. All I can do is thank God that I raised my eyes, because it wasn't Max who answered the door.
"Oh." I shut my mouth abruptly, taking a step backwards. "You're not Max."
The guy standing there looked amused. "Clearly."
I felt my eyes widen as I met his blue eyes. Wow. I mean, wow. Even now remembering the first time I laid eyes on him, it sends a charge through my entire body.
"I'm Sean Covington," he told me, sticking out his hand. "And you would be?"
"Liz," I replied, taking it and feeling the first flash of electricity run through me. "Liz Parker." I think my mouth was hanging open before I managed to speak. Embarrassing, yes. But you haven't seen this guy. He is extremely good-looking. Very tall, with short blond hair, that you can just tell would curl if he let it grow out a bit. And he sort of has that bad- boy vibe happening. Do you know the one I mean? Like somehow you just know he cannot be good for you - not at all - but you don't care one little bit.
This is college. If I can't have a crazy fling with someone who is nowhere near my type, where else can I do it? Not to mention, I'm changing my whole life remember? My usual type - the Kyle Valentis of the world.Well, it's time to try something new.
Not that I was expecting to have a crazy fling with Sean. Not then anyway.
"You're here to see Max?" Sean asked. "So that's where he's been for the past couple of days. If I'd known that he'd been hiding someone like you." He trailed off meaningfully. I could feel my face reddening.
Normally this kind of frank perusal from a guy would have pissed me off. But, for some reason, from Sean, it was just sexy.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed. He raised his eyebrows, and I quickly added. "We're just friends. From high school." I stopped, took a deep breath, barely refraining from rolling my eyes at my own behavior. "I mean, we went to high school together," I told him, enunciating each word carefully so that I didn't sound like anymore of a freak. "I came to say hi."
"Well, he's not here," Sean repeated. "But you're welcome to come in and wait if you want."
"Ummm." I bit my lip. I met his eyes. He seemed to be almost daring me to enter the room. "Okay," I said, raising my chin and beginning to feel a little annoyed.
I was also intrigued. I'll admit that much. I had never - not in my entire life - felt so attracted to someone at first sight. Particularly someone I knew I should despise because he was such a horrible, college fraternity guy cliché.
Well, who can explain hormones?
Not to mention, when have I ever had the chance to meet someone and be interested like that? I come from Roswell, New Mexico. I've known everyone there since the day I was born. It wasn't like love at first sight was even possible. I don't remember the first time I met anyone. I've just always known them.
Anyway, I know you all hate him. I hated him too - at first. And, yet, somehow, I couldn't help myself from being charmed.
Because, once I was in that room, things changed. While I was waiting for Max, we talked, and I realized that my first impression of him had been a bit off. His magnetism is undeniable, but he really is a nice guy too. He told me all about where he was from (Grand Forks, North Dakota) and why he's in New York (to become a doctor) and how he sometimes comes off as a little forward when he meets new people because he's nervous, especially here, where no one understands what it's like to be from a small town.
The thought that I made him nervous was surprising to me, but I admit that it made him even more attractive.
We talked about why I was in New York. He was the first person, besides Charlotte, that I told the real reason why I had come - to escape my hometown's expectations, which he definitely understood, although it was then that he asked me, "If you're here to escape Roswell, then why is the first person you've come to see from there?"
I tried to explain.About how Max and I didn't really know each other well in high school, but that I might have led him on in some way. I didn't want to go into too much detail. I mean, he didn't need to know the real reason that Max had come, if it was indeed because of me.
"So you like him then?" Sean finally asked flat-out. "But you don't want him to know you like him?"
"Of course I like him," I replied. "And he can know that. But not.I mean."
"You're not dating?" He asked again.
"No," I replied. I realized that my heart was beating very quickly. I couldn't tell if it was because I wanted Sean to ask me out or because I felt guilty telling Max's room-mate that we weren't dating. Which is crazy. Because we're not.
"You're not interested in dating him?"
That I definitely knew the answer to. "He's from Roswell. Of course not."
I looked at him, could see that he was examining me closely, as though trying to see right through me. Finally, he smiled. "So you'll go out with me then?"
Now, I do realize that going out with Sean might end up being awkward. I did realize it at the time too, although I said "yes" without really thinking about it first. How can I explain what it was like?
Sean is like a force of nature. One that I was just incapable of resisting. I felt like I knew him by the time I left that room an hour later. The thought of not going out with him was painful. And it was why I was in New York anyway - to meet new people and to make a new life for myself.
But what if Max had come to New York because of me? How was I going to tell him that I just couldn't go there with him, while in the same breath have to tell him that I was going to date his room-mate instead?
I knew it was wrong. I still know it's wrong. And, yet, I couldn't help myself. I was saying "yes" and by the time I thought of all this, it was too late.
In the end, I guess Max probably got the picture anyway. Because I ran into him and Alex right after that.
"Look who I found, Lizzie!" Alex called from the far end of the hallway as I left Sean's room. But I had already come to a halt and was staring at Max.
I felt my heart stop for one strange moment. But, as it slowly started to pound again, making me feel a little nauseous, I realized almost immediately that there was no way that Max could have come to Manhattan for me. He wasn't even looking at me. Instead, he was looking past me at Sean, an unreadable expression on his face.
Well, there was nothing new in that.
"I thought you said you'd take that down when I could come in," he said stiffly to his room-mate. I turned my head to see that he was indicating a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door-knob. I frowned. That hadn't been there when I'd knocked the first time.
I looked at Sean, who didn't seem at all flustered. "I forgot," he replied. "Sorry."
Max did not appear to believe him, but he let it drop. He finally turned his dark eyes on me and said, "Hi, Liz."
"Hi, Max," I replied in a small voice. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was thinking. Why did I feel guilty? I had nothing to be guilty about. Because, even if Max had come here because of me, how was that my fault? I hadn't meant for him to take my yearbook entry as anything more than my usual blather. And, yet, for some reason I still said, "I was looking for you."
"So I heard," he said. He did not smile. He turned, looked back at Alex, who was watching us all with a slight frown on his face. "Listen, Alex, I'm not going to be able to go with you after all. I just remembered I need to go talk to a professor for a class I want to take. It's full and I need to get permission."
"Sure," Alex replied easily, although he was now looking directly at me, his eyebrows raised. "We're still on for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Yeah," Max shrugged. "I'll talk to Isabel." He looked at me again, finally smiled slightly. "I'll see you, Liz." He went into their room and shut the door firmly behind him.
"Bye, Max," I said to the closed door, wondering what the hell had just happened here.
All I knew after that moment was that it was even more imperative that I talk to Max and straighten things out about the yearbook. Which is what I am sitting thinking about now.
"So why don't you go now?" Charlotte asks. "I mean, isn't it best to just get it over with?"
"I tried to call him earlier," I tell her. "He's not there. He's out with Alex."
Charlotte leans back against her desk chair, looking at me assessingly.
"What?" I demand. I've only known this girl for a couple of days, but I'm already beginning to recognize her expressions. It's one of the things I like about her. She reminds me of Maria that way.
"You seem really, really worried about what this Max guy is thinking," she tells me. "For not wanting anything to happen with him, I mean."
I sigh. "I told you, I just don't want to hurt his feelings. He's a really great guy. I've known him forever."
"But if you don't know whether he came here for you or not, then how can you be sure that you've hurt his feelings?"
"I can't," I reply impatiently. "That's why I want to talk to him!"
"But won't that just embarrass him?" Charlotte asks logically. "I mean, didn't you tell me that he's really shy? Either way too. What if he didn't come here because of you? That's going to be just as embarrassing for him as it is for you.that you thought that."
"Maybe," I admit. "He didn't seem upset yesterday," I add. "He just shut the door."
"So maybe you should just leave it alone," Charlotte suggests. "Or maybe you should ask yourself why you're so desperate to find out why he came here. For someone who wants nothing to do with anything that reminds them of home, you seem to be obsessing, Liz."
Okay, why did I ever tell her that? It was a stupid thing to say anyway. Because, it isn't like I'm not glad to have Alex around. And Max. I can pretend in my journal as much as I want. I'm still a big chicken at heart. Sure, I've made some decisions that people might not have expected, but I'm glad to have some people from home here too.
Baby steps. By Christmas, I won't need any of them anymore.
The phone rings abruptly, making me jump. I look at Charlotte, who reaches to answer it. "Hello? Oh, hi Alex. Yeah, she's here." She tosses the portable phone at me and turns back to her email.
"Hey, Lizzie," Alex says after my hello. "I'm just calling to make sure you haven't changed your mind about dinner." Alex asked me to go out tonight with he, Max and Isabel. I know that he's absolutely petrified about having to make conversation with Isabel Evans. Since Max likely won't be much help, if his past mute track record is any indication, I can sort of see why he's freaking.
But maybe Max will be different around his sister. Maybe he'll be different here in general. Maybe he'll try to talk. Maybe he's taking my yearbook entry to heart.
Maybe he came here to be different too.
Maybe I should go find out.
"C'mon, Bug," Alex coaxes, using his old nick-name for me, short for LizzieBug - don't ask, it's a long story - as though he can tell that I'm waffling. "That Sean guy is sleazy. Come and hang out with us."
"What do you mean he's sleazy?" I demand, slightly annoyed. "You only met him for two minutes, Alex!"
"Yeah, but I hear things," he says darkly.
I frown. "What things?"
"Well, that he's had a different girl in that room every night since he got here," Alex says in a rush. "I mean, c'mon, Lizzie. You don't really want to get mixed up with a guy like that, do you?"
"Who told you this, Alex?"
There's a long pause. "Does it matter?"
"Yes, it matters!"
"Fine. Max told me. And he would know."
I feel a slight twinge, although I was expecting it. I wonder why. Am I disappointed to hear this about Sean, or am I disappointed that Max didn't try and warn me himself? "Well, people can change, Alex."
"In the space of twenty-four hours?" Alex demands incredulously.
"Probably not," I allow. "But I have to give him a chance. I mean, I said I'd go out with him."
"Well, why don't you both come out with us then?" Alex suggests. "That way we'll know you're safe."
"We?"
"Me and you," Alex elaborates patiently, although my eyes narrow suspiciously.
I think about this for a moment. If I go out with Isabel, Max and Alex, I might be able to kill two birds with one stone. First, if Sean is a total scumbag, I'll be with people I trust. Secondly, maybe I'll finally get a chance to talk to Max privately, so that I can stop worrying that my every move is somehow affecting him.
Have I said before that I realize that I'm a bit self-absorbed? That I know that Max probably hasn't thought about me at all since we ran into each other yesterday? Don't worry. I do know this. I'm just trying to be honest about how I'm feeling here though.
I'm all tied up in knots. So much for getting away from Roswell. I feel like I've somehow fallen into a gigantic soap opera filled with people from my hometown. And, yet, I'm in New York. If I want to go out with a new guy, shouldn't I be allowed to? Shouldn't I be able to judge him on my own and not worry about what other people thing about him already?
The only way to resolve this once and for all is to talk to Max.
"Okay," I say. "Where you are you meeting them?"