Part Sixteen

She called all the time.

More than once a day that first week, less so now that they were a month out from the break up but still often, every afternoon at seven to be exact, when she had just made it home and he was done with school.

The first week she was gone, the only thing he'd done was go to school, work, and cook. Actually, that was still pretty much all he did. Other than that, he was in bed, staring at the only photo he had of the two of them together. How could they have known one another their whole lives and never taken any pictures together? The thought that he wouldn't have much to remember her by both saddened and relieved him.

He put the picture down and rolled over onto her pillow, taking a deep breath even though he'd promised himself yesterday to box it, and her other things, up and stop acting so sappy but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't washed it and it was beginning to smell more like sleep than her perfume, Daisy, but when he concentrated, he could still find a wisp of it.

That would be gone soon as well.

He started at the ring of his cell before shaking it off and pulling himself into a seated position. He glanced at the clock, seven on the dot, and for a split second considered not answering it. The sooner he stopped engaging her, the easier it would be to send her her things, the easier it would be to stop thinking about her and the easier it would be to move on.

He nodded; his new path set…but picked up the phone anyway.

"Hello Liz."

"Hey Max, what's going on," it kind of annoyed him how she would call and pretend like everything was alright. Like she was just away for the day and would be back tomorrow. He wanted to tell her so but he could hear her smile through the phone and since she wasn't there to get the wrong idea, he allowed himself to relax and smile in response.

"Just boxing up your stuff," he said it as lightly as possible and smiled wider at the barely audible gasp she gave. It was petty, but he was glad he could still hurt her. There was silence for a second.

"Well, what else are you doing," the conversational tone was back in place.

"Studying, how's work?"

"It's going well," she perked up, "we found this enzyme…" he half listened, half zoned out as she explained. He could never really understand what she was talking about when she went off on work related stories but he liked to listen anyway. To hear the cadence of her excited voice, to share in that joy with her.

"…you know?"

"Yes," he replied, getting back into the conversation, "When are you coming to get your stuff," he asked, a little perturbed that he still wanted to talk to her when she'd so unceremoniously dumped him.

"Soon," she replied gently, started to say something, stopped, then went on with it, "But wouldn't it be easier to just leave it there until I move back?"

He rolled his eyes and ignored the up kick in his heartbeat, "When? Today?"

He knew what she would say to that, the same thing she said everyday when she called and they inevitably got back to this same issue.

"…I can't until we both start trying to work out our issues. Have you been seeing your therapist?"

"I don't need a doctor," he replied sullenly.

"That's funny because you thought you needed one before I showed back up,"

"Well I don't need one anymore."

She stopped and seemed to be gathering herself for a moment before quietly saying, "I'm seeing someone."

He, literally, felt himself start to choke at her words. Going from a little annoyed yet hopeful to jealous in the span of a second,

"Who," he asked sharply.

"Not like that," she corrected quickly, "I'm seeing a psychiatrist."

He took a moment to breathe, embarrassed and pissed off that he'd tipped his hand. He decided to go for nonchalant even though that was the emotion farthest from his current state of mind, "Well good for you."

"You graduate next week right?"

She did that all the time now; change the subject to diffuse the fight. Though he was happy she'd let his last slip go, it bothered him that she probably learned the tactic from the same person who had talked her into leaving him.

"Yes."

"I would love to come."

"No."

She groaned, "I really think…"

"I don't care what you think," he said without thought and immediately regretted it. He wanted to tell her sorry, ask for her forgiveness and beg her to come home.

Instead he said, "You forfeited that when you left."

"But I love you."

"Stop saying that."

"No."

"Well I'm not listening anymore," with that, he flipped the phone closed. It lacked the satisfying bang his landline would have given but it would have to do.

-0-

Liz sighed and put the phone into its cradle. The first couple of times he'd done that she'd been angry, now it was just par for the course. Dr. Culling told her to give him his space, to let him breath and she was doing that by not calling 7 times a day anymore but she'd made it clear that she wasn't cutting off all communication between the two of them no matter what anyone thought and the Dr. had accepted that.

She was going to keep calling Max and telling him she loved him every day, even if he didn't want to hear it. And no matter how much he denied it, she knew he did. Why else would he keep picking up the phone?

-0-

Max must have walked in and out of Dr. Cullings office five times before going up to the receptionist with a strained smile.

"How may I help you," she asked a little flirtatiously, he ignored that.

"I was wondering if the Dr. was…"

"Max?"

He turned and saw his therapist with a smile, "hey Dr. Culling."

"How have you been?"

"I've been well, I'm graduating next week."

The older man put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm so happy to hear that."

They stood in front of one another a little awkwardly for a moment. "Did you come for something in particular?"

"I just wanted to talk to you for a second if you had an opening."

He looked down at his watch. "I have a moment. Follow me into my office."

He did, somewhat reluctantly, and after he shut the door behind them, Max took a seat.

"Well what brought you back here?"

He shook his head, "Liz left me."

He nodded, "Go on."

"I just need someone to talk to who doesn't have a dog in the fight you know. If I talk to my family, they'll agree with me and I don't really have any good friends here to talk with." He sighed, "I just want someone who will tell me the truth."

"You want to resume your appointments then?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, "I guess."

"I have to say Max," Dr. Culling said, walking around the desk and perching on the corner, "I'm glad to hear that."

"I know you are."

"I just think you're on the right track and you could only get better from here."

"Well I…"

"Sorry to interrupt," the receptionist said over the intercom, "But a patient is here and she's saying it's an emergency."

Someone slightly out of range spoke.

"Her name's Elizabeth."

There was an electric quiet for a moment after she said that and everything he had been wondering about suddenly clicked into place. He took a breath but didn't let it out and looked up to see Dr. Culling watching him.

"You were trying to make me leave her," he said lowly.

"Hold on…"

"She only started acting strange after you called my house that time," his mouth opened in astonishment. "How did I not think of this!"

"Now Maxwell…," the doctor said calmly, trying to get control of the situation.
But his patient was already up and leaving the room.

-0-

If someone would have asked Liz just two moments what the last thing on Earth she would ever expect to see was she would have said peace on Earth but now that she was face to face with one Maxwell Evans in the very last place she would have ever expected, or wanted, to see him…

Well now she had a new answer to that question.

He watched her pick imaginary lint off the lapel of her charcoal grey skirt suit; she must have dropped by from work, her maple syrup colored hair pinned up with strategic bits loose about her face.

He hadn't seen her since she'd walked out and she looked more beautiful than ever.

That just made him angrier.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing…"

He shook his head, "I can't believe you let him talk you into dumping me."

"He didn't talk me into anything! I thought it was the right thing."

"You thought it was the right thing to lie to me."

"No!"

"So when were you going to let me in on the fact that you were seeing my therapist?"

She struggled for words before throwing her hands up, "Okay fine. I wasn't ever going to tell you but that's because I was already looking for another doctor and I didn't think it was…necessary."

"I think we should move this to my office," Dr. Culling said, noticing that all eyes on the two people in the center of the room.

They ignored him.

"Not necessary?"

"I knew you'd just blame it on him and not believe me when I said I thought it all out and decided to do this because it was the best thing for us Max!"

"If you two are going to keep screaming," the doctor said in a tone sharp enough to catch their attention. "We need to take this conversation into my office."

"No need," Max replied calmly, never looking away from Liz, "I'm done," and he turned to walk out of the office.

"Fine leave," she screamed after him.

"I'm already gone," he yelled back over his shoulder and disappeared through the doors.

Liz stared at the door he'd exited before she followed Dr. Culling into his office without a word, feeling completely wrung out.

"Do you two fight like that often?"

"Every day."

He sighed, "I know you've already made up your mind about this but I seriously think it would be best for you to give him his space."

"I do give him his space," she said, sitting down in the same chair she was offered when this whole mess began. "I didn't run after him just now, there's his space."

"Liz…"

"What?"

"What are you going to do?"

She shrugged, "His graduation's next week."

"He invited you," he asked, perking up at their prospects.

"No, but I'm going anyway."

He sighed and finally took his own seat. "I'm not sure that's the best course of action."

She rolled her eyes and he continued.

"I just think maybe you ought to give him his space and his ring and let him get himself together on his own time."

She shook her head, "No, he's upset now but he loves me."

"How do you know that?"

She about growled at the accusation and he went on quickly, "I'm not trying to diminish what you two have ever felt about one another or what you had but have you ever thought maybe that relationship wasn't supposed to last forever? That maybe you were meant to love each other for that moment and that's it?"

He was worried she would shrug his advice off but she actually appeared to be thinking about it, taking his words in and chewing them over, until she finally began shaking her head slowly.

"No, that's not it."

"And I'll ask again, how do you know?"

She stood and held his gaze with a dreamy look and a sure demeanor.

"Because, if he didn't love me, he would stop answering the phone.