Chapter 30

"Liz," came Isabel's gentle response. "He doesn't want to talk to you."
She had been given the same reply for three weeks now, but it didn't lessen the pang of hurt every time Isabel would answer her. Liz wasn't sure why she kept asking, why she didn't just give up. Why couldn't she just let Max go and move on with her life?

The answer was always the same. She didn't want to. She didn't want to give up on him. He needed someone to believe in him and even though it hurt her that he didn't want to talk to her, that he hadn't spoken to her since he ran out of his house three weeks ago, she would continue to try and make contact with him. Sometime he had to answer her.

Right?

There was another reason to it as well, that she wasn't that eager on acknowledging, because that mere acknowledgement would make her too vulnerable.

Liz swallowed, hearing the empathy in Isabel's voice. She and Isabel had developed something of a friendship during the last couple of weeks. Isabel had after a while been forced to realize that Liz wouldn't give up on Max and she had become the messenger, the link between Max and Liz. There were some things that Isabel didn't tell Liz; some things about Max's condition that was not only too difficult to voice, but too hard to think about. She suspected that Liz knew that she was withholding some information, but Liz never pushed. She always respected Isabel's answers and never pushed for information that wasn't hers to have.

"How's therapy going?" Liz asked, biting her lower lip.
"It's fine," Isabel answered, her chest tightening. Therapy wasn't fine. Isabel had visited the therapist numerous times to find out just what he was doing to Max. The therapeutic sessions seem to do more harm than good, considering the destroyed state Max was in when he came home. But Isabel always received the same reply. It was only natural for Max to get worse before he got better. He was finally facing all of his demons and getting better wouldn't be a walk in the park.

Max had taken a leave from his work and moved in with Isabel, Alex and Michelle. It had been with much reluctance though, since he knew that Isabel would be watching over him like an overprotective mother hen. But after a week of going to therapy he had stopped eating and barely slept. He and Isabel had gotten into a big fight and Isabel had pulled away, angry with her brother because he was so stubborn. It had required a call from Liz to make Isabel swallow her pride and go back to Max and force him to move in with her. At least he was eating now, but Isabel knew that he still wasn't sleeping very well. She could hear him wandering around the house in the middle of the night. He was moody all the time, barely speaking to anyone. He spent most of his time in his room, with the door locked.

"How is he really doing, Isabel?"
The seriousness in Liz's voice put Isabel's distracted train of thought to a drastic halt. Liz had never actually asked the question before and Isabel could hear from the tone in her voice that Liz knew that something was wrong. That she had known for some while.
"He's fine, Liz. He's doing a lot better."
There was a pause at the other end of the line, before Liz answered. "Isabel, I know that he is not okay. Please, I need to know the truth."
"Liz…" Isabel sighed. "You don't want to know-"
"Yes, I do, Isabel," Liz said adamantly. "I'm so…" She swallowed back the sudden mess of emotions clogging her throat, "I'm so afraid that he won't be able to sort this out."
Isabel sank down on the chair behind her. Her mind was in conflict about what to do. Should she confide in Liz about Max's condition? She hadn't even been able to talk to Alex about her fears, but she guessed that he already knew. Anyone with eyes could see that Max wasn't doing any better.
"Me too," Isabel whispered.
"Then tell me, Isabel. Please."
"I'm…" She took a deep breath and just decided to give Liz the truth. "He isn't Max anymore. At least before he was talking to me. Now he's just…not here."
"But it has to be better than when he was in denial," Liz said.
Isabel sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "I'm not so sure anymore, Liz."

"Have you talked to the therapist?"
"He won't give me any information. Client confidentiality."
"Right," Liz sighed, mimicking Isabel's movements on the other end of the line, sitting down and rubbing her hand over her forehead. "Does he talk to you at all?"
"Max?"
"Yeah."
"No… He barely says three words a day."
"But… He has to be getting better."
"I don't know why he isn't improving. He's always locked up in his room. He won't let anyone in. It feels like I… like I don't even know him anymore. It's like I have a stranger in my home instead of my brother."
"I'm coming over," Liz said without hesitation.
"What? No, Liz. You can't. He's not ready to deal with you now."
"Isabel, if it continues like this he won't be ready to ever deal with me. I'm coming over."
She left no room for protest; still Isabel tried her best to get Liz onto other thoughts.
"You haven't seen Max. You don't know the state he's in."
"I want to see him, Isabel. I've tried to stay away, but I can't. Not anymore."
"Why, Liz? Why can't you just leave him alone? He's not your responsibility. We never asked for your help."
"He did," Liz said quietly.
Isabel answered with silence.
"He was afraid that I would leave him. He told me some things, Isabel, and he was afraid that I would think he was crazy and that I would leave him. Now he's… He's is probably thinking that's what I've done. That I've abandoned him."
The pain in Liz's voice struck something inside of Isabel and even though she was afraid for her brother, something told her that Liz might be the only one to help him out of whatever darkness he had fallen into.

"Okay, come over. He's not home right now, but try in an hour."
Liz felt her heart quickening at Isabel's permission. She had been thinking about paying Max a visit for a while now, but the magnitude of what that would mean just hit her and it left her shaking in the aftermath. By some miracle, she managed to keep her voice stable and calm when she answered, "Okay. I'll see you then-"
"Uhm… No," Isabel said. "I have a PTA meeting to attend, so I won't be there."
"Oh," Liz said, feeling her chest constrict and for the first time in three weeks she wondered if it was such a good idea to go to Max.
"Liz? You okay?"
"Yeah, uhm… I'll be there. Just don't tell Max that I'm coming."
"Okay," Isabel agreed, understanding Liz's reasons for withholding that piece of information from her brother. Max would probably run away and hide if he knew that Liz would come, just like he always did.

"I'll leave the key under the pot next to the front door," Isabel said. "Let yourself in, because I doubt that Max will answer the door."
Liz swallowed. What condition was Max really in?
"Okay," she agreed weakly.

-----------------------------------------------

"Having fun yet?"
Max did not move. He did not acknowledge the voice at all. On some level, he knew that Tess was not sitting on the bed just then, looking at him with a sarcastic smile lingering on her lips, twirling one of her blonde curls between her fingers. During the tedious weekly therapeutic hour, he had no problem understanding what the therapist was telling him. It actually sounded logical. Tess was a figure of his imagination. He was still seeing her because he wasn't ready to let her go so he conjured up the image of her for comfort and as a way to escape reality. Dr. Liggins made it sounds so easy. All Max had to do to get healthy again was to let go.

He had to let go.

That was all. But it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. He wanted to, but he wasn't prepared to. He wasn't prepared to deal with the silence and the loneliness that he would be left with. He wasn't prepared to be alone with himself and his thoughts. He had been in that place, after the funeral, and he never wanted to return there again. It was better this way, in the company of his wife.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, before turning back to the magazine in front of him that he wasn't reading anyway. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed. If he just listened to her voice, he could pretend that she was really there. That she wasn't just something his mourning mind was making up. Then he could smell the soft scent of cinnamon surrounding her and feel the presence of her warm body next to him. Then he could pretend that he wasn't pretending and he could ignore what the logical part of his mind was desperately trying to warn him of.

Dr. Liggins said it was self-destructive.

According to the therapist, Tess was personifying Max's conscience and the fact that she was gradually becoming less like the person she had been in real life was Max's way of punishing himself. It was his conscience that was letting him know that to stop grieving Tess and Josh was wrong. And it was destroying his mind. Devouring him from the inside out. At least, that was what it felt like.

So he didn't push her away. He spent days locked up in his room, talking to someone who didn't even exist so that he wouldn't go insane. What would Dr. Liggins say about that logic if he knew? But Dr. Liggins didn't know. Max was scared that if the therapist knew, he would help him to remove Tess, and that was the last thing Max wanted.

"Are you thinking about her?"
Sighing, Max shook his head.
"I know you are."
He involuntarily shivered as her voice grew colder. He couldn't recognize her anymore, something that he tried very hard to deny. Lately, her eyes had turned dark and lifeless, and she was tainted with a nauseating smell of decay. She didn't laugh and her remarks were spiteful. But he had to hold on to the belief that it was going to return to the way it was before. That he would see her smile again and hear her laughter. That hope was the only thing keeping him going. That and-
"Liz. What is so special about her, Max? She left you. She abandoned you when you needed her the most."
Max buried his head in his hands at her words. He understood why Liz had stayed away. He was the one to run away. He was the one that pushed her away. But it hurt that she hadn't even tried to make him listen. She hadn't even tried to convince him that she would help him.
"I don't want to talk about it," Max mumbled.
He'd had the same conversations for days now and it was slowly driving him insane. He missed her. He missed her so much that it hurt. The problem was that it wasn't Tess he was missing. It was Liz. His whole being was aching for her, but he knew that he couldn't contact her. She would never come near him. He was damaged. He didn't recognize himself any longer and he didn't trust himself in the company of others. He had lost count of how many times he had yelled at Isabel. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to crawl away from reality, far away where no one could find him.

But his heart was telling him different. And Tess knew it. That was the main reason why she was plaguing him with it, over and over again. Playing on his insecurities, his guilt and his fear. Slowly driving him to the brink of insanity.

"She doesn't care about you. She only pitied you. Let's face it, Max. No one wants you now."
He knew it was true. He had stopped looking at himself in the mirror two weeks ago, because the stranger looking back at him scared him. That wasn't who he was. That wasn't who he had been. He'd had his whole life ahead of him. He had found his dream girl. He had married her and they'd had a beautiful son. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. His heart felt like a hollow void. He didn't even feel the aching anymore. He didn't care if he lived or died. To be honest, death seemed very tempting at the moment.

Looking over at Tess, he wondered, not for the first time, if he would meet her in a better place if he gave up on this life. Would she return to the girl he fell in love with? He was ripped out of his dark thoughts by the sound of a door closing downstairs. He vaguely glanced at the clock, his muffled mind registering that Isabel was home early.
"You are pathetic," Tess whispered, suddenly standing next to him. The stench of death crawled up his nostrils and he could feel the familiar stale taste of bile in his mouth. He wanted to run away, while simultaneously longing for her touch.
"Everyone can see what a mess you are," Tess continued, "You should know what they are saying behind your back. What they really think about you. Do you really think that your sister likes to take care of you as if you were her child instead of her brother?"

The next second, Tess was gone, replaced by the creaking sound of the door to his bedroom opening. It took his desensitized mind a couple of seconds before he realized that Isabel had changed her hair color and that she was smaller than usual. It took him a couple of seconds before he realized that it was not his sister but Liz Parker standing in the doorway.

TBC...