December 19, 2013 - First Choice Timeline
Max knelt down on the crackling grass, hugging herself for warmth against the cold winds blowing through Arcadia Bay. She kept her injured arm close, rigid in its fresh cast, and reached into her sweatshirt pocket with her left hand (her hospital bracelet still dangling around that wrist) to pull out the Polaroid that she had brought with her. Framed up in that shot from so long ago, two young girls stared out at Max: Chloe, so tall by comparison to the girl beside her, in a gray and pink Arcadia Bay t-shirt, her long hair pushed back, and Max in a bright blue shirt, leaning her head against Chloe's cheek, her darker hair reigned in, pulled taut into a ponytail.
Had that been her last truly happy moment, an early selfie taken with William's camera on that fateful day of September 28, 2013? Shortly after that shot had been taken, the door had opened, and both of those girls' lives had been turned inside out. Three days later and those smiling girls would be ripped apart, torn away from each other for five years before coming back together only briefly, and only in Max's memories. Chloe, the Chloe of this time, she never got to experience their reunion; she never learned how much Max had truly missed her, how much she cared. This Chloe died alone and scared and abandoned.
Max sniffled, trying to hold her tears at bay. They would come, she knew that, but not yet. She took in the grave before her, setting the photo upon the smooth surface of the plinth at the base of the Price family tombstone that Chloe shared with her father, gently situating it beneath her inscription, which read simply:
Chloe E.
Mar. 11, 1994 - Oct. 7, 2013
The photo placed, Max ran her fingers over the nameplate, then up along the engraved pines of the border and the mountains of the tombstone's lunette, finally, dusting a light layer of leaves from the top of the headstone as she stood. Over her shoulder she spotted Kate close behind, a potted red hibiscus in her hands. The girl's eyes hung heavy with dark bags from the long night that had plagued them all.
After their encounter with Nathan, Victoria had rushed Max straight to Arcadia Bay Hospital, texting Kate before they left. The two girls hadn't been seated in the ER waiting room more than fifteen minutes before Max's friends had begun to rush in. First to arrive were Dana, Trevor, and Kate; which had perhaps been a bit unfortunate, as upon spotting Victoria at Max's side, and Max holding her swollen, bloodied arm, Dana had immediately begun to rage on Victoria. Even after Kate, Max, and a rather worried Trevor had talked Dana down, the mood had soured, leaving Victoria bitter and angry. A few minutes later the girl found herself venting those angers on the nursing staff that had yet to even take Max back for triage.
Whether that anger had been rightly or wrongly directed, Max had found herself in triage moments later, and finally provided some modicum of pain relief, and some gauze for her bleeding before being shuffled back to the waiting room. Upon her return, Warren, Alyssa, and even Taylor had been seated in the back row of those stale blue seats near the coffee pots. Max had made her way back to her seat next to Victoria and Kate and across from the new arrivals, her spirits both lifted at the showing from her friends, and lowered with the mortification of them seeing her hurt and victimized.
Neither Max nor Victoria mentioned Nathan. They both knew how dangerous the Prescotts could be and did not wish to involve anyone else until they had a clear path forward. As such, the tension between Victoria and Dana remained all the worse, as the cheerleader definitely hadn't bought Max's lame excuse of a fall down the steps from the gym. Luckily, Max had borrowed a scarf from Victoria that had been discarded in the backseat of her BMW, or Dana would have completely lost it over the bruising around Max's neck.
As the night wore on, they exchanged light banter when Max could focus through the pain, or simply consoled her when Max could not. During those times, Dana and Victoria took turns dressing down the nurses for not hurrying Max back to a doctor, Kate running referee, attempting to keep her friends polite and reign in their anger as best as she could. Alyssa simply read from a book, while eyeing everything cautiously from her seat in the corner, and Trevor chimed in where he could to lighten the mood, but mainly remained for moral support. During these heightened exchanges with the staff, the tension between the queen bee and the cheerleader began to thaw, though they did not fully defrost. Only time would heal those wounds.
An hour later, Max had been taken back for x-rays, followed by minor surgery to set her arm, which had suffered a compound oblique fracture from her "fall" to the sidewalk. A few pain meds, some IV fluids, a cast, and seven and a half hours later, Max had finally been discharged. It was five minutes past seven in the morning as the group of friends (and enemies) made their way into the parking lot. By that afternoon most of them would be departing Blackwell for the break, but prior to that Max had plans; plans in which most had promised to take part, and those that hadn't promised to do so, decided to join anyway after the night that they had shared.
So, all of them struggling on what little sleep that they had either managed in the waiting room, or, in Max and Victoria's case, in Max's hospital gurney/bed, had returned to the dorms to change and shower ( grab a photo ), before splitting among two cars, catching some drive-thru breakfast at the ACFC (Arcadia's Crazy Fast Chow), and heading to the cemetery.
All of this ran through Max's head as she saw Kate behind her with that hibiscus and those tired eyes. The whole crew looked the worse for wear — just one more thing Max felt guilty about in a long litany of guilt-laden tribulations.
Her, Kate, Dana, Trevor, and Warren had picked the flowers up on the way, their last stop before Arcadia Bay Cemetery having been at the nearby florist. The trowel in Kate's other hand had also been purchased there.
"Would you like me…" Kate's voice trailed off, but she needn't finish that question. Max understood. She shook her head, then held out her left hand towards Kate. This she had to do on her own.
Kate understood and handed Max the garden trowel they had purchased. Max hadn't been able to carry everything on her own — not much of anything for that matter — not with her right arm in a cast, healing from Nathan's assault.
"Are you sure?" Dana laid her hand on Max's shoulder in comfort, but Max simply nodded back to her and returned to her knees by Chloe's grave. Slowly Max began to dig out a small hole to the right of the tombstone. The ground gave way to the trowel, but not without effort. The cold and the frost had hardened the soil and so it fought back, resisting her efforts; but Max kept her patience, thankful for every inch of give. As she dug, Dana sat down in the grass, tucking her feet in and sitting cross-legged to one side of Max. Kate placed the potted hibiscus back a bit from the hole in progress, and sat down on her knees to Max's other side. No words were exchanged, only the simple comfort of silence settling over the trio.
As Max continued to dig, she let her eyes wander occasionally, checking behind her to find Trevor fidgeting with his hair and casting his eyes about as if uncertain where to look. Further back, Victoria leaned against the nearby tree, watching, yet keeping her distance. Dana had accepted that Max would not be reporting Victoria nor allow her to do so, but that had not meant that all had healed between the two girls, even in spite of their mild acceptance of one another the night before. Despite the tension the Queen Bee had insisted on being here for Max on this day, and so had hung back just enough to remain civil with Dana. Neither girl felt like causing a scene. Today was for Max.
Beyond Victoria and Trevor, off by the wrought iron gate leading from the street to the cemetery proper, the rest of the group hung back out of respect. Warren chatted with Alyssa, while Taylor smoked a cigarette and paced working through the anxiety that must have been building up in her system all night.
Max returned her attention to the task at hand, eyeing her progress and finally deciding that she had done the best that she could, she nodded to Kate. The meek girl smiled back at her, loosening the plant from its pot, removing it root-and-all with that cylindrical clump of potting soil and helping Max ease the transplant into its new home beside Chloe's grave. Max patted the earth down, filling the loose gaps with the pile of soil that she had removed, until satisfied that the hibiscus had been shored up, securely standing sentry over her best friend. It was a beautiful plant; its vines winding up a central wooden stake until its greenery exploded, then peaked in multiple red, trumpet-shaped flowers, each with those signature protruding stigmas.
Max and Chloe had connected so much in that lost week, yet there were so many conversations that they had never had. For instance, Max hadn't known Chloe's favorite flower, not since they were children, and they had never discussed the meaning of Chloe's tattoo sleeve; yet Max hoped that the hibiscus on her arm had come from a moment of joy and peace, and that the one she planted at her grave now could bring the girl some further peace in whatever waited beyond (in 'what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil' to quote the author of your Tempest).
The hibiscus placed, Max nodded up at her friends. They knew the time had come. Kate leaned over and clasped Max tight in a hug, while Dana simply squeezed her shoulder. They both paused before Chloe's grave, one saying goodbye to her costar from years gone by, the other to a friend she had never made, but whom she wished she had. As the two then parted, Trevor walked up, cracking a beer, kneeling down, and taking a long chug before spilling out a generous portion over the grass at the head of Chloe's grave.
"Your girl, Max, she was legend, you know?"
"I do." Damn. Her eyes were tearing up again. She wasn't ready for that.
"She and I, we had some good times. Us and Rachel and Justin, the whole crew. Those girls, they could fuckin' shred."
"I wish I could have seen them."
"Me, too." Trevor gestured his beer towards Max, but she declined with a shake of her head.
"Thanks, but…"
"It's cool," Trevor said, stealing another sip. "I've got another skater girl to visit. It's been too long."
Max understood. "I never met her," she said, "but I wish that I had. She was… she meant a lot to Chloe."
"No doubt."
"You tell her hey for me? And Chloe?"
"Of course." Trevor elbowed Max playfully in the side. "You know, you're pretty chill yourself."
"Thanks, bro." She snickered, not used to the complement.
"Cool." Trevor offered a two-fingered salute of a wave as he stood. "Later, Max. Later, Blue."
Hanging his head, Trevor left sauntering down the rows of graves searching for another fresh headstone in the distance. As he did, Victoria approached hip-checking the kneeling girl's shoulder, before bowing her head.
"What's with you and skaters?"
"What? They're cool."
Victoria scoffed, but Max paid it no mind. She knew the girl meant nothing by it. Max returned her attention to Chloe's grave.
"You knew her too, right?" Max knew the girl did. Neither girl had been quiet about their mutual animosity; yet neither had really elaborated either.
"Yeah," Victoria said. "Once, a long time ago."
"You made an impression."
"I bet I did. I can honestly say the same about her."
"Would you like to tell me about it?"
"Not really."
Max let her eyes fall down from Victoria and back to Chloe's inscription and the picture now stationed beneath it. As she did, she heard a sigh from her friend above her.
"But I will," Victoria said. "I can't say it'll paint either of us in a good light."
"I didn't love her for being a saint, Victoria. And I don't like you for being one either. In the end, I think we're all gray; it's just a matter of degree.
And there was his voice, again, creeping in as it had become wont to do.
"… that shift from black, to white, to gray… and beyond…"
Victoria nodded absently. "I suppose. One of the last things I remember about Kari — sorry, about Chloe —"
"Why do you call her that?" Max interrupted.
"Kari?"
"Yes."
"Because it annoyed the living shit out of her, and I enjoyed being a bitch."
"Tracks." Max offered Victoria a grin that shouted a silent 'no hard feelings' to soften her agreement.
"It does." Victoria popped her knuckles, then lowered herself to Max's side. "So, yeah, one of the last times I saw her, well, in any meaningful way, I was humble bragging about some lame photography award — I don't remember what it was for or even the name of it anymore — and really I was probing for info on her friend, Rachel. I was so fucking jealous of that girl. Something else I will flat out deny if you ever speak a word of this."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"I can't even believe they're both gone now. I was so green over Rachel. Well, Chloe here calls me on my bullshit," she said, waving her hand lightly towards the headstone, "because of course she does." Max snickered at that. Yeah, that totally sounded like Chloe.
"No one did that back then," Victoria continued. "Not many do now. Anyway, I fucking hated being called out and I was stressing about some chemistry assignment while slipping in whatever insult I could manage to throw her way. Stupid me, I barely questioned her when she offered to help. Fluorine, uranium, carbon, potassium, and uranium."
"What?"
"Chloe's help with the last question. F. U. C. K. U. I didn't even blink when I wrote down the answer. Suffice to say, Ms. Grant hadn't been so unobservant. That shit did not go over well. Not with Principal Wells, either. I can't say it was the reason she got expelled that first time, but it definitely didn't help her case."
Max laughed and shoved Victoria's arm. "Fuck u? You actually wrote that shit as an answer."
"Look, bitch, I was desperate."
"Fucking Chloe. That shit sounds just like her."
"Oh, if you think that's funny, there's plenty more where that came from."
"Maybe another time."
"I hear you. Remind me to tell you about The Tempest sometime."
"Dana mentioned it already."
"Sure, but did Dana mention Chloe and Rachel drugging me with a muscle relaxer?"
"What? Why the hell would they do that?"
"Probably because I tried to drug Rachel with it and they felt it would be a good idea to turn the tables on me. Something messed up and depraved like that."
"You tried to drug Rachel?"
"Remember when I didn't say I was a saint."
"Well, yeah, I didn't think you were, but cereal…"
"Oh, don't get all self-righteous on me now. You've got all Christmas break for that."
"Damn right, I do."
Dog, it still feels weird to be joking with Victoria.
The past couple weeks the two had come a long way. Victoria was still Victoria. Her rough edges were still sharp and cut with ease, but more like a good pocket knife. She was sharp because she needed to be, but she aimed with purpose now, not malevolence. Max on the other hand, she smiled more days than she didn't, and while her trauma still kept her awake into the early hours most nights, and sent her into nightmares when she did sleep, she was managing again in more ways than not.
"Anyway…" Victoria rose to her feet and patted a hand against the top of Chloe's headstone. "Keep it real, Kari."
"Really?" Max shook her head at Victoria.
"What. I think she'd appreciate it. No bullshit and all that."
"Yeah. You're probably right. Before you go, though, what do you mean the first time Chloe got expelled?"
"I guess you and she didn't have a ton of time to catch up."
"Not enough." The cold pain of that truth stabbed home, and Max crept a little into herself, hugging tight to her arms.
"She got expelled her sophomore year, the day of The Tempest. The Ambers fixed that shit somehow, and so she stuck around Blackwell for one more year until I guess Wells just couldn't justify it anymore. Anyway…I should… you know?"
"Yeah."
Victoria turned to leave, hesitating for only a moment. "Max?"
"Yes?"
"This isn't some goodbye tour, right?" Victoria's dark and tired eyes bore down at Max with such fear. Max could see the concern there weighing as heavily as the exhaustion that had to be tugging at the girl after the night that they'd shared at the party and in the hospital.
"Goodbye tour?" She gripped harder to her arm, guessing what was coming.
"Two weeks ago, you take me to the junkyard, the train tracks, the lighthouse. A few days later I heard you and Dana went for a swim. You told me about you and Chloe there, the break-in."
"Dog, I did, didn't I?"
"Yep. Then just a few days ago, you have me take you to your childhood treehouse, followed by a trip to The Two Whales where you can reconcile with Mrs. Price."
"Price-Madsen."
"Yeah, whatever. Just, now we're here. I knew you were friends. Obviously you loved her. If that hadn't been clear, you just reminded me a moment ago. You see the significance, right? What I'm getting at?"
"I do."
"And you aren't?"
Aren't what? Planning an elaborate goodbye before offing myself so that I can join her? Can't deny it's crossed my mind . It most definitely had, but it also was the last thing that Max would do.
"No. I made a promise to her once. I intend to keep it."
"Care to tell me about it?"
"Not really."
Victoria eyed Max, but the girl simply shrugged.
"Private," she said. "But it means I have to stick around, if that helps." That last bit came as an afterthought, an olive branch to ease Victoria's concerns.
"It does." Victoria's shoulders relaxed and she let out another sigh. "If you need us," she continued. "Me, Kate… Dana, whoever. Just text. No shame. We'll be here in a moment's notice."
"Thank you." Max nodded her goodbye and returned her attention to Chloe, listening as Victoria's footsteps faded off into the distance.
When she felt certain that the girl had strayed out of earshot, she spoke in a soft whisper. It had been a long time since she had spoken with Chloe, and she had a lot that she wanted to get off her chest.
"Hi there, Chlo. Been a while." She paused as if listening for a response. It was lame, she knew, but it helped her. It let her imagine for a moment that this conversation wasn't so one-sided.
"And you, too, William. Sorry, I haven't been before now. I hope you don't mind if your daughter and I have a private chat?"
Pausing again, she waited then nodded, hoping that Mr. Price understood.
"So, Chlo," she said. "Up for a chat?"
She could almost picture Choe there with her. Wishing she were, Max eased down further into the grass, settling her back against Chloe's tombstone so that it covered William's nameplate, leaving Chloe's unhidden beside her, as if they were there sitting together.
"Should have brought you a peace offering, but you know me. No wake and bake here. Had I thought about it I guess I could have asked Trevor. Sorry."
Max laid her head back against the cold stone, staring up at the clear skies and pondering her options in the silence. A tiny smirk lifted her lips, a mischievous grin that she could easily picture Chloe flashing her before dragging her into trouble.
"I do have something though, I suppose." Max rolled up her beanie, pulling a bent cigarette out from behind her ear and setting it in in her lips so that she could use her good hand to rummage for a lighter. Successfully hauling it from her messenger bag, careful not to put any pressure on her injured arm, Max inhaled on the cigarette, her eyes sparkling as the tip flared.
In the distance she could see Victoria watching her, and could imagine the disapproving scowl on her friend's face. Max raised both hands, cigarettes still in her lips, and gave her the trademark Chloe middle-finger salute. Victoria saluted her back. That done, Max pulled the cigarette from her lips and exhaled a slow, steady stream of smoke towards Chloe's nameplate.
"Secondhand smoke. Pretty tame I know, but the best I can offer at the moment. Never did connect with Frank. Not like I even know if he's still dealing or not, so… Is what it is, I guess. I did just flip Victoria Chase the bird, though. A double whammy. Figured you might like that."
She let her eyes drift shut and imagined her best friend's grin followed perhaps by a little bit of doubt creeping into Chloe's own questioning eyes. Would she believe that Max had actually flipped off Victoria. That wasn't very much like the Max that Chloe had known.
"Cereal. Honest," she said, responding to that imaginary doubt.
She waited another moment, thinking about the fact that she had brought Victoria Chase of all people to visit Chloe. Something didn't sit right there, much as she did appreciate everything Victoria had been doing for her.
"Yeah, sorry, Chlo. I know. You'd probably prefer she didn't swing by here and get all up in your face. My bad, but I've been giving her hell if that helps at all. I think she's all torn up about you and I. Rachel, too. Crazy, right?"
Hella crazy. She could almost hear Chloe, although Max knew it was only her imagination; wishful thinking mixing with that deep longing within her. Knowing that at any moment she could pull out a photograph and bring the girl back did nothing to ease that deep-seated desire. When William had died, she would have done anything to bring him back, to ease Chloe's pain, and yet she had known that it wasn't possible. That certainty had allowed her to grieve and move on; yet with that possibility now ever present, Max found it so hard to let go. Near impossible, really.
"Anyway," she continued. "I'm kind of pissed at you, you know. I mean hell, you were in a play and you never told me. That's hella messed up."
Max took a deep drag from her cigarette, listening to the eddies of wind whipping over the graves, and watching as that same wind scattered the puffs of smoke she exhaled.
"You're right," she said. "I'm stalling. It's tough though. I mean you and I, it was always easy. We were Chloe and Max. I mean, you got angry, sure; especially lately… well, lately for me. I don't know if you, wherever you are, whatever happens next, I don't know if the you there knows about that week or not, but yeah, lately for me, you let me have it. I deserved it, don't get me wrong, but still, even with all that, even in the raw hurt of your anger, you and I were easy."
Fuck, there are those tears again. She could feel them building and once more she blinked, trying her best to force them back down.
We were easy, Max? There was that inner Chloe voice, again.
"No, not like that. Jesus, Chlo!" Max rubbed at her eyes and cheeks trying to ignore the deep blush that she could feel stealing over her. "No, it's just, as much as talking with you just comes, came, naturally, this is hard to get out. It's just… I wanted to tell you… tell you that I didn't rewind, okay. I haven't once, not since letting you…"
Max choked on her words, a lump rising up in her throat. She paused fighting against the emotion building within her, then pressed on.
"Well, if you're hearing this, then I bet you know the deal, so forgive me if I don't say it out loud. Anyway, I've had the opportunity, okay? To rewind. Believe me."
She held up her injured arm, holding the cast out over Chloe's inscription.
"I even had to watch Nathan kick the shit out of step-douche."
Max laughed at Chloe's imagined response.
"Yeah, you probably would have asked me not to rewind that one. You're right. That's fair."
The laughter dwindled and Max took another long drag from her cigarette then stubbed it out in the grass, and slipped the butt back into her messenger bag. When she spoke again, her voice had sombered.
"There's been all kinds of hurts, though. I've shoved my foot so far down my mouth. I've messed up trying to make friends with Justin and Taylor, that's for sure, even if that latter one might just be starting to work out. I've slipped on assignments. Mouthed off when I shouldn't. Fallen behind. Look, I'm not trying to say my life is shit. At least I have one, right? Yeah, I know, low blow. I just… I want you to know, I've had the chance to rewind. I can still feel it there, time, you know? I can feel it coursing around me, through me… I can feel it flowing forward, and I know that I can still reach it."
Damn… she should have snuck in another cigarette. This was harder than she had expected. A deep fear seized over her as she considered her next words. Max didn't want to admit this next part, but at the same time, she felt obligated to do so. Chloe deserved to know.
"I've stopped it twice. Time that it is. Since then, you know. Dog, I didn't mean to." Max bit at her lip, fidgeting as she longed for another smoke. "P-please, don't be mad. It just happened. I promise, I've never rewound, and I haven't seen any storms on the horizon. No raining frogs or swarms of locusts. No double moons or freak snowfalls. So far we seem to be good. So… um… yeah. I kind of messed up, I know; but I swear I wasn't trying to. And… and well, we're uh… we're still safe I guess. Arcadia Bay that is."
That paralyzing fear stole over her, that deep fear that had been creeping in, and it mixed with her guilt and pain and Max just couldn't bear it. That guilt rushed up and it washed over her, flooded over and drowned her and all she could see was her failure — how much she had let Chloe down. In that moment, she hated herself. She despised herself, not just for having let Chloe die, but for being too weak to keep her promise. She had stopped time. She had risked everything despite all that Chloe had done to save this town and what did that make her? Worthless. Nothing. Less than nothing.
That anger and guilt boiled over, her hand trembling, as she bit at her lip. She could feel that loss of control coming. Sometimes she could keep it at bay for weeks, sometimes months, but when that guilt and that loathing became too much, it just rolled over her until she couldn't contain it any longer. I'm sorry, she thought. I'm sorry. So, so sorry.
Slap!
Her open palm smashed hard against her face, the sting of it jolting her awake, but it did nothing to ease her pain; to ease the failure that she felt inside. She had fucked up and she had let Chloe down. Another slap resounded against her cheek. She hadn't acted out like this in months, and she could feel the deep shame of it flushing over her, but she also knew that she deserved it. With Dana and Kate and Victoria always hovering nearby she'd been able to keep the self harm at bay, but she had failed. She had fucked up so much. No storm had come, but she hadn't known that would be the case when she had stopped time. She had risked everything even after she promised Chloe to do better. Her fingers clinched tight, and that left hand rose to smack herself again, when her phone buzzed.
A message.
Victoria: I see you do that one more time, I'm dragging you out of here.
12/19/13 -11:17 am
Dog. No one usually saw her. Usually Max had been alone in her room in Seattle when these emotions had flooded over her. She never let mom and dad know. She knew they would've been upset. Now Victoria had seen her. What had she been thinking?
She let out a slow, deep breath, then banged her head back against Chloe's tombstone.
"Sorry, Chloe. It's just hard, you know. You… you always knew how to reach me. To stop those voices. S-sorry, that's not fair. This isn't on you. I'm just…"
Her eyes drifted closed seeking the peace that she had felt returning just yesterday. She had so much still that she needed to tell Chloe, yet she couldn't make her friends wait forever.
"Your mom is having a hard time," she said at last. "I don't mean to bring you down, it's just… well, she's surviving. So I guess there is that. David is a ball of fucking anger, too, but what's new, right?"
Max lifted her head up ever so slightly then let it fall back once more against the cold hard stone behind her. The gentle pain felt good. Wrong, but good.
Stop, came that Chloe voice again.
"Well, you don't want to talk about him, do you? Me? Me, I'm trying to live… you know… for you. I know that you, that other you, maybe you, too, I don't know… both of you, how would I know. However it works, one of you wanted me to live… so I am. There are so many days I didn't want to, either. So many days that I thought about joining you here, but no, I'm still going. I figured you'd like to know that.
"Hell, you'd think it was Kate that got me through it, too, wouldn't you? Maybe even Dana. And, yeah, they've helped."
Pausing, Max took another deep breath. Why was this so hard?
"No, no, I didn't let Warren help; at least not how he wanted to at any rate. I guess I kind of kept him out of the loop, you know, like you mentioned. Like you had texted really. Dog, he didn't like that text. Still, you'd never guess who it was that actually got me through this. Nope… Victoria fucking Chase. I know, right?
"Before I just coasted from one trauma to the next, one panic attack after another, not even a shred of hope that I might one day be normal again, whatever the fuck that is. Now, now, I'm even dreaming of a day that I might take a picture again. It's not today, not tomorrow even, but maybe one day over break, or a few more weeks out… maybe a month… who knows."
Rubbing her eyes, fighting the exhaustion and the grief waiting there, Max tried to force herself on. She could do this. She could.
You got this.
"I went to a party last night, too," she added. Chloe would have liked that; would have been glad to know that she really was trying to live. "I even tried to shaka brah. Warren got a bit too… well, eyesy's not a word, but he definitely paid more attention than he should have. Brooke got pissed and stormed out. I guess I sort of fucked that up."
Not on you, Max.
Sitting there by Chloe's grave, Max couldn't keep her old friend's voice at bay. It hurt hearing her, but it soothed as well. Letting that inner voice calm the tumult within, Max continued her one-sided conversation.
"Then I turned down a joint from Justin. In hindsight, maybe I should have taken him up on it instead; but no, I just went and grabbed a smoke outside. Yeah… this wasn't a one off peace offering for you. Guess I'm a smoker now. You alway did take a pride in being a good bad influence on me. Does this count, or is this just a bad bad influence? Whatever.
"So yeah, I went out and took a smoke break and of all people Nathan fucking Prescott showed up. Not to get you worked up, but the bastard jumped me."
I'll kill him.
Max waved her broken arm by Chloe's inscription again.
"Did I tell you that they let his ass out? I guess not. Don't worry though. I'm going to figure something out. I won't just sit back and take this. Well, when it was all said and done, some goon threatened David and I to keep quiet. I guess daddy dearest wants me to deny what I saw in that bathroom so that his boy wonder can walk. Fuck that, though, right? I've faced down a time twister."
Time Twister? Max could practically hear Chloe balking at the phrase.
"What? No? I thought you liked alliteration. Would time tornado be better? Space-time storm? Fuck it. You find a way to tell me one day. I defer to your almighty nickname prowess.
"Anyways, after Nathan broke my arm — oh shit, I didn't tell you that did I? Yeah, he broke my arm (son of a motherfucking bitch), but don't worry, I'm pretty sure David broke his nose. Then David got busted in the balls. You would have loved it… Well, after that, I had to go to the hospital. Victoria took me… I know, right?"
Max rolled onto her side, leaning against Chloe's headstone so that she faced towards its right, almost as if she were laying in bed with Chloe staring her best friend in the eyes again. She closed her eyes, picturing her there beside her, Chloe's sleepy eyes drifting open in the soft morning light.
"Then Kate and Dana and Trevor show up. Soon enough, Warren swings by with Alyssa and even Taylor. Somehow it looks like I've managed to make some pretty solid friendships (I'm happy for you). I'm not sure what happened, but I thought you'd be proud. You alway said that I was more worthwhile than I gave myself credit for; though you probably put it better. Would've told me I was hella amazeballs or awesomesauce or something like that.
Damn straight, that imagined Chloe mouthed, the soft light playing against her lips as she spoke. Max cuddled closer into her, so close she could imagine Chloe's breath playing against her hair as Max nuzzled into her shoulder.
"And me, I wouldn't have believed you," she continued. "I would've blushed and sighed and maybe let you have it, but deep down that doubt still would have nagged. But hey, I guess some folks out there think you're right.
"Just thought you'd like to know… to know that I'm trying (I see). That I'm keeping my p-promise… and now… now I really think I'm going to make it. I think I might just be able to live again. Just you know, ignore that little bout of self harm there, okay? We all slip every now and then, right?"
You're strong, Max. So strong.
Laying there, Max could imagine Chloe holding her hands and caressing her hair as she looked down at her. Would it have been a look of friendship or something more? She wished that they would have been able to explore that path, to see where it would have led. Now it simply remained as a might have been, a what if that would forever live in that vault of regrets.
"So yeah," she said, swallowing back that rising lump in her throat once more. She couldn't keep it at bay much longer. "I love you, Chloe. I never got to say it, not with you here, but I love you… I love you so, so much. And you know what? I'll be seeing you around."
It's time to let go, the Chloe voice whispered. To live.
Max rolled over and pushed herself to her knees, pushing that last imagined missive down into a vault where she could lock it away.
"I'll get back whenever I can," she said, before shifting on to her feet. "And I've left you a friend… a hibiscus to keep you company. Her name's Lisa, Jr. You be good to her, okay? Her namesake didn't have the best life, so she's going to need some TLC… that's TLC, Chlo, not THC, okay? I know how you think. So yeah, you be good to her."
Max stood, stretching out her sore muscles, then rubbing away at the cold biting into her exposed hands and cheeks.
"Alright. I should really be going. I'm freezing my skinny ass off here. Pretty sure if you could talk back, you'd be telling me to move my skinny ass anyway. So, yeah, see you around, Che."
Returned to her feet, the aches in her muscles eased, and the cold still nipping in, Max leaned over and kissed Chloe's headstone, a tender kiss, lightly brushing her lips against the cool stone over Chloe's name. As she pushed back, the tears began to fall. She could barely hold them back any longer.
"I really am sorry, you know," she offered with one last fleeting touch to Chloe's headstone, then turned to leave.
In that moment, she knew Chloe forgave her. She could feel the warmth of that forgiveness flooding through her, and hear those soft words in her ear.
I forgive you, Maxi-taxi, they whispered. There's nothing to forgive at all.
The tears pooled up and burst forth, and her cheeks burned with the pain of those tears and the cold, and her throat began to rub raw with the strain of the wracked sobs that took over.
She made it three, maybe four steps towards the tree, before the shaking took hold. Another few feet, and she fell back to her knees, and all that pain, all that grief came flooding out. Those wracked sobs turned to wails, and every ounce of pain she'd been holding in found its way into the world. She had to let go; she had to move on. Finally, she knew that Chloe wasn't coming back; that she wouldn't be turning back time and in that finality, finally she mourned.
She hadn't even hit the ground before Victoria, Dana, and Kate were all in motion. The queen bee and the cheerleader didn't even show a hint of tension; not a fight between them. In a moment the trio of girls was there at her side, and Kate had her wrapped in a deep hug, crying just as much for her friend as Max was for Chloe. They consoled each other in one another's arms, and when finally Max's sobs eased (not ended, but at least slowed to a more manageable, silent grief), then both Dana and Victoria worked together, lifting the girl to her feet and holding her up between them.
Slowly, the four of them made their way back to the gate and to the cemetery entrance. Their other friends were kind enough to avert their gazes, understanding how awkward Max would have felt being the center of attention, and so as the girls approached that gate, Max had been able to take in the scene without shifting away from their penetrating stares. In that freedom, she noticed the wrought iron gate arching over that entry, and at its peak she saw the blue of that Morpho butterfly, flapping its wings and holding court above.
It always showed up at these moments didn't it? In the bathroom when Chloe died. At her funeral. Here now, when finally Max found herself letting Chloe go at last. She wished she knew what the damned thing wanted from her. She wished the damned thing would just leave her alone. She wished… she wished it could all just have a happy ending.
That wasn't how the world worked however. She'd have to make her own ending, bittersweet as that might be, and that chapter was a long way off.
A few minutes later the friends had divided up among the two cars. Warren drove the first with Trevor riding shotgun. Dana and Max sat in the back, Dana with her arm wrapped over Max's shoulder to offer what little comfort that she could. Victoria drove the second car, Taylor, Kate, and Alyssa joining her for the ride back to Blackwell. They held back a moment, while Warren backed out, Taylor and Victoria sharing a smoke before leaving. They each waved a gentle goodbye, while Kate smiled up at the passing car waving with much more fervor, as if the harder she waved and the more that she smiled, the more she could ease Max's pain.
As Warren's junker of a car rolled on out of the parking lot, and onto the main drive, Max found herself staring out the side window as she often did on long car trips, especially when her mood was less than ideal. She enjoyed the cool feel of the glass against her forehead, and the passing scenery always helped her recenter, the blurring images drowning out whatever miserable voice fought for her attention. She offered a weak salute back to her waving friends, then focused in on that scenery with the turn onto the main road.
Yet, much as this usually calmed her, a tiny thread of worry tugged at her now instead. Pulled just off to the side of the road she noticed a familiar beige van, though for the life of her, she could not place where she had seen it before. Something about it, however, worried her. She tried her best to recall why that might be, but the most she could remember was a vague sense of having seen the vehicle around town, which didn't seem so odd; not logically. Arcadia Bay was a small town. You grew accustomed very quickly to running across familiar faces… why not familiar cars as well?
Her mind continued to ponder over this, as Warren approached the first major intersection on the way back to Blackwell. The sun glistened over the bay and off the gentle waters to their left, while on the right the usual stretch of evergreen woods lined the road climbing back towards the mountains beyond. The whole scene struck Max as particularly picturesque, yet still her worry would not subside.
Be strong, Max, came that Chloe voice and she couldn't understand why it came to her then, but it did nothing to ease Max's growing fear.
Flickering amongst the trunks of the trees, she could just make out movement off beyond the woods on the intersecting road. That anxiety building, Max shot her eyes forward as Warren drove through the intersection. He had the right of way and no stop sign, no reason to slow down, and yet —
— An engine roared, and metal collided with metal, glass shattering inward as the car exploded into chaos. Max could feel the impact, the jolt as the semi-truck plowed full speed into Warren's car, the glass of the window against her head shattering. She could feel the car lifting into the air, beginning its deadly roll. She rose from her seat, pushing against her seat belt as tiny shards of that broken glass cut into her cheek and the belt yanked taut, her chest exploding with the pain of that sudden pressure. And her head shouted at her, ringing and bursting in pain, as she could feel the glass of the window tearing into her scalp. Her right arm slammed into the inward momentum of the door, and her cast cracked. Something else cracked.
Max screamed.
Trevor screamed.
Warren screamed.
Dana.
All their voices rose in a split second of fear and shock and hurt, and the interior of the car became an echo chamber of that fear and pain. Metal bent and snapped and a large grill pierced into the passenger door as it bent inward, the side of the car buckling at the impact, jagged metal protrusions of demolished door shooting in as the incoming truck demolished the front half of the car. One moment Trevor was there screaming, and the next there was no Trevor, only truck, as if his whole body ceased to be, exploding and shattering with a burst and a maroon spray, the force and weight of the truck ripping him apart. Max could feel the first wet mist of blood against her forehead, the car still tilting up in its inevitable roll, her body still flying, bending towards that fatal collision as her own door began to crumple, to rip into deadly shrapnel hurtling towards her prone form —
— and then it stopped.
Time stood still, even as Max could feel the kinetic energy and the force of the crash pushing against her, threatening to send her rolling towards the driver-side of the car and off towards the road and the grass at the curb and the beach beyond. Time froze, the air around her shimmering in the syrupy haze of stopped time, and before her the macabre scene revealed itself, frozen in some twisted snapshot…
A moment of desperation…
Little remained of Trevor; what did had been mangled and crushed. Droplets and trails and bursts of blood and viscera hung paused in mid-air extending out from where he had sat, but thankfully the worst of it, his body, whatever of it that remained, was hidden from Max's view by the back of his chair and that intruding truck. Yet she could see the spear like shards of metal denting inwards, the morbid dark red splashes of color outlining that metal, coating the shattered windshield and the hood of that semi-truck. She could see the frozen pebbles of glass streaking through the open interior of the car.
Max turned away, unable to look. That's when she noticed Warren, his face contorted in fear and pain, his arms twisted as he attempted to spin the wheel and escape the sudden collision. Through the shattered windshield, Max could make out the crushed hood of the car, frozen in the middle of tearing and bending and warping in, and with that destruction, the dash had bent inward and the steering wheel had pushed forward towards Warren's chest, and no!
She couldn't look. She closed her eyes and turned away. When she opened them, she saw Dana stopped in her own moment of time, her left arm smashed through the back driver-side window, bending upon impact with the road beneath and disappearing beneath the car. When time flowed again, the car would roll right over that arm, but probably not before her head had also smashed into the asphalt. Her seat belt had snapped and she was in freefall. Not a one of them would survive this collision.
Max lifted her left hand to the right side of her head. The molasses-like consistency of that stopped timestream fought against her, making every movement a pure force of will, yet little by little her hand rose up. Her fingers came back soaked with blood. She had felt the glass cutting into her scalp. A millisecond more and she might not have even been alive to freeze time. Looking down to her injured arm and she could see the blood leaking through her cast. Had the break in her forearm broken again or anew? Was it the same or a fresh injury on top of old?
Her head pounded, her chest ached, and her arm burned as if it were on fire. She couldn't even focus on the dozens of prickles of pain from the glass cutting into her cheeks; yet she couldn't leave the glass cutting in just behind her temple. What if it traveled with her? Continued its momentum?
Dragging that left hand back up, pushing it through the barrier of this frozen moment, she grasped at the shard of window, just a millimeter into her head and she yanked it back, loosing it mid air where it spun and then froze as if floating in zero gravity.
"I'm sorry, Chloe," she said and flexed the fingers of her right hand. Pain exploded once more though that broken arm as she forced those fingers open, forced that arm to rise despite the grinding of loose bone within, despite the resistance of time. "I'm so sorry," she said again, "but it can't end like this."
All the pain coursing through her and it was the guilt that broke her. She had made a promise. She had tried so hard to keep it. Now, now she had to break it.
She seized onto the stream around her, the threads of time woven over her. She gripped them, and pushed against them, and then she felt it. A viscous pop and the stream moved once more, flowing backwards as time began to rewind.
