Chapter Two
"Babe, don't look now, but your Psycho Stalker is here. Again."
From where he was sitting outside of the cafe, Max heard what Maria DeLuca said about him and flinched. If Liz felt that same way..."
"Ugh," Liz groaned impatiently. Just as Max was about to stand up and leave his outdoor table, he heard her continue, "you'd think Kyle would get a clue already. While I understand that he's not used to girls turning him down..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back that train up, girlfriend," Maria ordered. Max watched, amused, as Liz paused, looked up from where she was filling salt shakers from behind the counter, and regarded her best friend in what was clearly a confused manner. "First of all, there's a reason why girls don't turn down Kyle Valenti. He's like... the most sought-after guy in school, Liz!"
"Yeah... if you go for that type."
"What type – the blue eyed, buff, and beef-cake of the month type? Uh. Yeah. Most sane teenage... and some not so teenage... girls do."
Before this enlightening conversation that he was oh-so-secretively eavesdropping on, Max had been unaware that Kyle was pursuing Liz... not that he could blame the other guy. After all, Liz Parker was definitely pursuable. In fact, she was his dreamgirl, but that didn't necessarily mean that he liked knowing she was Kyle Valenti's dreamgirl as well. Although he knew better than to think that he would ever get to be with her, he was also reassured that Liz was obviously not interested in the star quarterback. The star wrestler. The star point guard. And the star short stop.
"He's also self-absorbed, rude, has absolutely no ambition past being the most decorated high school athlete the county has ever seen, and is mean to... to those less... fortunate."
"Ha," Maria sarcastically shot back with a bark of laughter. "You mean that he shoves the socially inept into lockers." As she moved around the counter to stand next to Liz, Maria continued, "Babe, that's called the high school pecking order. If someone like Kyle didn't do that, it'd be like... living in the twilight zone or something."
"I'm sure Alex would be interested in this view of yours."
"Hey, don't bring Alex into this. Kyle only shoved him into a locker once, and that was back in middle school."
"Hmm... so what you're saying is that Kyle still acts like an immature child." Liz weighed her own interpretation of her best friend's remark thoughtfully, clearly frustrating Maria from where Max sat and watched the two girls surreptitiously. "Yeah, I'd say that's a fairly accurate conclusion."
"Okay, we're getting way off track here, Chica," Maria lamented. "Whether I think you're insane or not for turning down Kyle's advances, that's not who I meant when I said you had a not-so-secret admirer drooling over you outside. Drooling being the important word in that sentence... and I don't mean in a lascivious way either; I'm talking a mad-hatter, eat your own hair, nuttier than my mother's fruitcake kind of way."
When Liz didn't respond, Max's gaze flew towards the large, glass window on his right. Instead of finding that the two girls had moved into the back of the restaurant like he had assumed, he saw Liz Parker glaring at her best friend, while Maria DeLuca stared back in incredulous innocence.
"What," Maria demanded.
"Max is not crazy! He's..."
"He's what, Liz?"
"He's nice."
Before he could contemplate the meaning of that statement, the two girls were already pushing forward in their conversation, and he had to set aside is own thoughts in order to focus upon what they were saying. "Sweetie, while I realize that you're one of those annoyingly positive people who doesn't like to gossip – how we became friends, I still have yet to completely comprehend, but," and here Maria sighed exaggeratedly, "Max Evans is a few crayons short of a complete box."
"Yes, he's shy," Liz still continued to defend him, but her best friend soon plowed over her and was once more talking.
"Liz, shy doesn't even break the surface of what Max Evans is. Do you realize that I've never once seen the guy make eye contact with anyone? Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he wore an eye patch, or was a cyclops, or had freaky red, rat eyes for all we know, because he never looks at anyone long enough for them to see what he looks like."
"And what do his looks have to do with anything, Maria," Liz chastised her best friend. Max could see Maria finally back down, the disappointment in Liz's tone ringing pointedly for anyone listening to hear. "I know that Max is quiet, that he refuses to make eye contact with people, that he doesn't really talk to anyone, but I also know that he's kind. He'll hold the door open behind him for anyone and not just a cool, cute, or popular kid. He's the first person to stop and help somebody who's dropped their books... not that most people will accept his help, and he's so smart, Maria."
"Well, he'd have to be if he was your lab partner," Liz's best friend conceded slightly.
"Of all the people I know, you were the last person who I thought would poke fun at Max for being different," Liz continued, not even acknowledging the other girl's teasing remark. "Your mom had you as an unwed teenager. Your father took off, and, for years, you were taunted for that, Maria. Yes, you're much more socially evolved than Max, but how many times did you come to me crying in elementary school, in middle school, and, yes, even some in high school because of the things you heard some of the more popular girls whispering about you not quite behind your back?"
"Okay, you're right," Maria agreed. "I was being an awful wench, but, bouts of tears or not, I can function in society. Max can't, and it's not like we're kids anymore. He can''t really use that whole excuse anymore that he's the boy who was found wandering naked in the desert, abandoned. He's been living with the Evans for more than ten years; he's been coming to school with us for eight. We're seniors, Liz. If he can't hack it in high school, how the hell is he going to hack it in the real world? He's just not like the rest of us; he's just not... normal."
"If Roswell is normal, then the earth has more problems than I thought."
"Alright, point taken, Chica, but still," Maria persisted in arguing. "Just look at him out there."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Liz's best friend wave in his direction where he sat at one of the CrashDown's outside, patio tables. With his books spread out around him, he looked like he was merely doing his homework, but, in truth, the heavy texts were simply his cover so that he could spend a little more time in Liz's Parker's general vicinity.
"I mean, he comes here every day after school, sits out there by himself, and does his homework. First of all, who in the world actually does their homework?" Because Maria was on a rant, she failed to consider just who she was talking to: the future valedictorian of their high school class, the girl who had never once failed to complete a homework assignment. "And here's the kicker," Maria proceeded to steamroll forward, "he never orders anything. Anything! He takes up an entire table, no doubt scaring other patrons away with his Quasimodo act, and never spends a dime. The only reason your dad doesn't say anything is because the Evans are a prominent family in this town, and Mrs. Evans orders take out from here at least once a week. Anyway, it's creepy. I mean, doesn't it weird you out, Liz? I'm not even the one he so obviously likes, yet I'm still freaked by his..."
"By his what," Liz countered. "By his silence? By his gentleness? By his absolute obliviousness towards us?"
"Yes. Definitely. I choose D: all the above."
"And besides, Maria, Max Evans doesn't like me."
"If you call him wanting to crawl into your skin and become the first man to ever have a woman's babies not liking you, then, sure; whatever you say."
Liz leveled her best friend with a narrowed glance. "Have you been watching late night movies on the Sy-Fy channel again, Maria?"
"I can't help it! They're so bad, they're good!"
"Yeah, and they make you even more paranoid than you already are, no small feat."
"Hey, I resent that, Liz," Maria called after Max's dreamgirl as the two of them moved from behind the counter and approached the swinging doors which would take them into the back of the cafe. "When you live in a town like Roswell, it's not paranoia; it's being prepared for the inevitable."
And those were the last words he heard from the two girls. Though his heightened senses would have been able to detect the sounds of their voices if he strained to listen into their conversation further, doing so would only ratchet up his other senses as well, and the last thing Max wanted was yet another sensory-induced migraine. Besides, that afternoon had been far more than he had expected already. To hear the wonderful things that Liz Parker had said about him had been amazing... even if they were partnered with everything horrible though no less than insightful that Maria had uttered. The truth of the matter was that her assessment of his character was far more accurate than what he would ever want Liz to realize, especially her reasoning as to why he came to the CrashDown day after day after day yet never stepped foot inside. Sure, Maria didn't know that the crushing level of stimuli inside of the small restaurant would have been enough to probably send his mind into permanent overload once and for all, so it was impossible for him to step foot inside, eat a piece of Men in Blackberry pie, or actually talk to Liz, but everything else she had said had been spot on.
Well... except for the whole part about him wanting to have Liz Parker's babies. While he might be on the slippery downward slope of crazy, he wasn't certifiable. No, in his fantasies, Liz was definitely the one who gave birth to their children; not him.
Standing from his favorite table, the one which afforded him the best all-around glimpse into the diner, Max slid his books into his backpack, took a deep breath, and prepared for yet another night of disappointing his parents.
; : ;
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have a sibling, someone who could distract his parents from their disappointment in him, someone who could share the burden of being Phillip and Diane Evans' child. Given his otherworldly status, the chances that any other adopted child brought into their family would be like him were infinitesimal. So, Max would have a human brother or sister, meaning that, while he'd never be able to be close to said sibling, he'd also have an out when it came to his parents. He loved and appreciated them, admired them both for their generosity and warmth. After all, as far as he could see it, his presence in their life had been nothing but burdensome since he had nearly caused them to wreck their car on their way home from going out to dinner on that long-ago, fateful night. But he was also incapable of being the child they both really wanted. At least if he had a human brother or sister, the pressure for him to be... just more than he was... would be lessened if not altogether removed. Though his parents had never actually told him that he was a letdown in the kid department, it was just one of those things that Max could sense, similar to how he had always known that he didn't belong there – with the Evans living on Murray lane. In Roswell. On earth.
When he had been found, he had been nothing more than an overgrown infant. Despite having the body of a six year old, Max's mentality and basic motor skills had been as advanced as a baby's. He couldn't speak, couldn't comprehend language, couldn't feed himself, dress himself, wash himself, and he certainly couldn't recognize his body's needs like when to use the restroom. He had been helpless and even more difficult to care for than a newborn, because, unlike a baby's small size, his parents had been forced to wrestle with and carry the burden of a nearly four foot tall, forty pound child. Despite this ineptitude, the one thing that Max had known, even back then, was that he was alien: a resident born in or belonging to another country who has not acquired citizenship by naturalization; a foreigner; a person who has been estranged or excluded; a creature from outer space; extraterrestrial. Yes, not even human but a creature. Whereas he had looked upon the people surrounding him as unknown entities, as things, he was even lower than that; he was merely an it.
"Maxwell!"
Startled out of his thoughts by his father's raised voice, Max looked up from his dinner plate where he had been shuffling about his dinner – not really eating the food but attempting to make his mother think that he was. However, like always, he refused to meet his father's eyes and, instead, focused on a point somewhere over the older man's left shoulder. The avoidance simply further ratcheted up his dad's annoyance to an even higher level.
"Have you heard a single word that your mother has been saying to you," Phillip Evans demanded.
Sheepishly, Max shook his head no, dropping his gaze once more to his plate and then to his lap. "Sorry, mom," he apologized softly yet sincerely. "I was... I was just..."
"That's alright, honey." Of the two of his parents, his mother was more lenient, more understanding of his, as she called them, quirks. Hell, sometimes she even claimed that his shyness was endearing, though Max suspected she was either in denial or simply too kind and fearful of damaging him even more to say anything harsh or reprimanding. "I was just commenting upon how impressive your schedule is this year – four AP classes, plus you elected to take several other classes as well, despite the fact that you already technically have enough credits to graduate."
"I like school," he sheepishly admitted, shrugging the shoulders. And it was the truth. School, despite the brashness of his fellow students and the curiosity of the administrators, was a haven for Max. Sure, he still didn't fit in there, but at least he didn't care whether or not he disappointed a bunch of teenagers and a few adults he'd never see again once he went off to college. Plus, school was where he had first met Liz Parker, and school was where he could manipulate his schedule so that he could spend his entire day with her. Granted, he liked to learn. He found it both helpful – after all, the ways of earth didn't come naturally to him – and distracting, especially English, for it was nice sometimes to shed his own skin and live vicariously through the characters which came alive in the pages of books, but nobody, besides one Elizabeth Claudia Parker, would voluntarily take AP Physics, AP Calculus, AP Government and Current Affairs, AP History, Psychology, Sociology, and Spanish IV.
There were some days when they didn't even get to go to lunch... not that Max minded, because their labs would run over, and they'd be forced to eat together while finishing their experiments... well, Liz would be forced to eat with him; Max, on those days, felt like he had been given a rare and beautiful prize. However, his parents did not need to know about his infatuation with Liz, because it would only encourage them, make them think that he was finally coming out of his shell when that conclusion couldn't be further from the truth. His fascination with Liz only made him realize just that much more how important it was for Max to remain safely hidden away, far from where anyone could hurt him and, more importantly, far from where anyone could hurt those few people in this world that he cared about.
"We just wish that you would... branch out a little bit," his mother continued. Though her voice was soft, due to their close proximity and Max's heightened senses, it felt like she was screaming inside of his mind, her voice reverberating around his skull and pounding his already abused brain. "Maybe try something artistic, either sculpture or theatre. And we know that you're athletically talented, Max. You're a senior this year. If you don't try out for the basketball team this winter, then you'll never have another chance to."
"Mom, you're lucky if I don't break your dishes, and now you expect me to make my own?"
Even his father chuckled at that. "He has a point, Diane."
"But what about theatre," she persisted. "You're so handsome, Max. I could just imagine you on stage, wooing a young Juliet or..."
He stopped her before she could become even more delusional. "No." As his mother took a deep breath, preparing for yet another assault, Max spoke preemptively. "And we've already talked about the sports thing. They'd take too much time away from my studies, and you know I don't like crowds."
Now, that was an understatement.
"Son, the point your mother is trying to make is that you need to branch out a little. While we're proud of your academics and while we know that your transcript is impressive, colleges want more from prospective students than just a stellar GPA. They want to see that a kid is involved in extracurricular activities, in his or her community. Besides, it wouldn't hurt for you to become more involved, maybe... make some friends."
Lamely, he retorted, "I'm... fine."
"We know this is hard for you to hear, honey," his mom started only to be cut off by his father.
"... but you're nearly eighteen, Max, and, soon, your mother and I won't be around to coddle you anymore."
"Phillip," Diane gasped, protesting her husband's harsh way of expressing what they both actually felt to be the truth. They knew it, and Max did as well.
"No," his dad argued, knowing that his wife believed he had gone too far. "He needs to hear this." Turning back to Max, he continued, "maybe some of your problems are our fault. We've known for years that there's something... holding you back, but I guess we just hoped that if we loved you and supported you enough that you'd either heal or, at least, move on. Obviously, we were wrong."
"It's not your...," he tried to reassure them, but his dad held up a silencing hand, and Max allowed him to press on.
"The bottom line here, son, is that we're worried about you. Yes, you're smart, but what the hell kind of future are you going to have if you can't hold a conversation with your boss or meet your coworkers' eyes? And don't even get me started on your personal life. While I realize that most parents don't lament the fact if their child is less than... promiscuous, you're seventeen, Max, and you have never once showed any interest in girls. At this point, if you were gay, your mother and I would be relieved, because at least we'd have an explanation as to why you are... the way you are, but we don't believe that to be the case. We've already given up on the hope of you ever marrying, of you ever giving us grandchildren, but we haven't given up on you yet, son. No matter what, your mother and I will always love you. You are our only child, and we feel blessed that we were able to find each other all those years ago. At the same time, though, you can't go on like this; we... as a family... can't go on like this anymore. There needs to be some changes."
His dad was right... about everything, but that still didn't mean that Max wanted to hear what his father had to say, and it certainly didn't mean that he knew of a way to fix the mess that was his life. Resolutely avoiding his parents' probing gazes, Max whispered, "may I be excused, please?"
"Sweetheart, you've barely touched your food," his mother protested, reaching out to lay a trembling hand against his arm. Max flinched away from her. Glaringly, he could hear his mom sniffle in response.
"And what about everything that we've said here tonight, son," his father wanted to know.
"I, uh... I have a lot of homework to do," he offered lamely.
His dad sighed then, already resigned to the fact that the had wasted his breath in attempting to talk to him. "Fine. Go," he wearily replied. "But we're not finished here."
A part of Max wanted to tell him that they had been finished the moment they had found and picked him up off the side of the road, but he couldn't crush his parents like that. Not yet. While he was resigned to the hopelessness that was his future, he would spare his mom and dad from that pain for as long as possible, though he feared that he wouldn't be able to shelter them for much longer. It felt as though he was walking across a tight rope, and any one singular misstep would take him and his family plummeting downwards, only there was no safety net below to catch them. No, when the Evans family eventually slipped, and, really, such a tragedy was inevitable, Max believed, they would be free-falling.