Author: Danilise
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer: Roswell, its characters and
situations, are owned by the WB. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: This story is the part of an evolving future
storyline that currently includes in order):
"Decisions," "Looking In," "Christmas
Envy," "From Another Place," "Husbands and
Fathers," "Claudia and Nicole," "Stars,"
"Going Home," "The Ethics Lesson,"
"Redefining Terms," "Beginnings," "First
Date," "A Quality Heart," "In Every
Ending," "Birth," and "Joshua and
the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." More stories
may be forthcoming.
STARS
Far-off stars
Blazing bright
In the desert
Of the night
Her dad found her sometimes looking up at the night sky, watching
the stars. Her favorite spot was the attic window. She would sit
on the window ledge for hours, staring up, wondering who might be
looking back. Her dad seemed to understand what she was looking
for. Sometimes he sat with her, and they watched the stars
together. But mostly when he found her looking at the
stars, her dad smiled gently and left her alone.
She couldn’t explain what it was about the stars that drew
her to the window ledge night after night. But she had the
feeling it had something to do with the strange glowing thing
that sometimes happened to her hands. The glowing thing had been
happening all her life, but it had been
happening more frequently since her tenth birthday four weeks
ago.
She was afraid to talk to her parents about the glowing thing.
Usually she wasn’t afraid to talk to them about anything.
Her parents were pretty cool. But she couldn’t figure out
how to explain that sometimes her hands shone, and sometimes she
was able to do things, like fix torn book pages or
close small paper cuts. How would she start such a conversation,
anyway? "Mom, Dad, I think I have super-powers" didn’t
sound right.
Actually, she had been more confused about how to
talk about the glowing thing before she and her parents had gone
to visit family and friends and celebrate the Fourth of July in
their hometown of Roswell, New Mexico, two weeks ago. After the
trip to Roswell and a heart-to-heart talk with
her grandmother, she had a good idea about how she could start
the conversation with her parents.
She heard a footstep on the stair, lighter than her dad’s.
The door opened a crack, and her mom poked her head into the
attic room.
"Hey, sweetie. What are you doing up here?"
"Mom, hi." Claudia leaned back away from the window.
"I was just looking up. Were you looking for me?"
Her mom had the grace to blush. "I was actually. Mind if I
sit down?"
Claudia shook her head and moved over to give her mom room to sit
down beside her on the window ledge. She waited for her mom to
tell her whatever was on her mind.
"Sweetie. Before we left New Mexico, your grandmother and I
talked." Claudia stiffened. She watched her mom re-tuck her
hair behind her ears, a nervous habit that her dad always teased
her about. Her mom-radar must have picked up the stiffening,
because her mom smiled at her reassuringly. "Don’t
worry. She didn’t tell me anything you told her in
confidence. But she did say that we should probably talk. So I
thought we could talk today maybe when it was just the two of
us."
Claudia glanced at the stars for courage, then stared down at her
hands. Her mom was giving her the opening she needed. She took a
deep breath, then asked, "Mom, what am I?"
Liz Evans closed her eyes. She had known this day would come. And of course, it would have to come when Max was at a medical conference on the other side of the continent. Opening her eyes, Liz studied her daughter.
Claudia was so much like her father. She had Max’s
dark eyes, his not-quite-human ears, his intense expression, his
slow, sweet smile. Liz smiled at herself. It was so typical that
she should have dreaded all her adult life to have to explain to
her daughter about her true heritage.
Other parents worried about explaining the birds and the bees.
Explaining sex would be easy compared to this. She smiled at her
daughter and said lightly, "Claudia. You’re what
happened when I followed my heart."
Claudia cringed with preadolescent squeamishness.
Liz stifled another smile. "Hear me out here, kiddo. Have I
ever told you about your great-grandmother Claudia?"
"Yeah. Lots of times. I’m named after her. She was a
famous anthropologist. She wrote about Native American
culture."
"That’s right." Liz paused. "Okay, bear with
me some more; this might get a little sappy for you. Before she
died, my grandmother -- your great-grandmother -- made me promise
that I would follow my heart, no matter where it took me. So I
did follow my heart. And it led me to your
dad."
"To Dad," Claudia repeated. She tilted
her head to one side and bit her lip. "Mom. When we were in
Roswell, Grandma Diane and I had a talk. About being special.
Mom, Grandma Diane said that Dad and Aunt Izzy are both special,
that she always knew they were special. She said that I was
special too." Claudia swallowed nervously. "This thing
happens to my hands sometimes, Mom--"
Liz placed a hand over Claudia’s. "I know, sweetie.
Sometimes you can fix things and heal things just by touching
them. That happens to your dad too. And your Aunt Izzy. And your
Uncle Michael."
Claudia looked up sharply. "Not to
you?"
"No." Liz smoothed Claudia’s hair away from her
face. "I’m not as lucky as you are."
Claudia pulled away to stare at her mother then stood up.
"Is it lucky?" she asked seriously.
Liz smiled, thinking back. "It is for me. Your dad’s
specialness saved my life." Liz patted the window ledge
beside her. "Sit down, sweetie. Let me tell you a long story
about what happened when your dad and I were sixteen years old,
and he healed a bullet wound in my abdomen, and then everything
that happened afterwards." Liz gave Claudia a little hug
when she was once again seated beside her. "Sit tight again,
because it still might be sappy in bits."
Claudia listened intently to the whole story, not
guessing that her mom was thinking that she looked exactly like
her dad did when he was concentrating hard. When her mom
finished, Claudia sat back against the window glass. "I get
it now."
Her mom looked surprised. "What do you get, sweetie?"
"I know why I look at the stars. Why Dad sits beside me
sometimes and looks, too. We’re looking for the same
thing."
Her mom nodded and pointed to an off-centered, v-shaped
constellation of five stars high in the night sky. "That’s
what you’re looking for."
"That’s it?" Claudia asked, her voice full of
wonder.
Her mom nodded again. "That’s it."
Claudia hugged her mom. "Thanks for telling me. I wasn’t
sure how to talk about this with you and Dad, but I really wanted
to. After we went to Roswell, I mean." She stole a glance at
the stars twinkling outside the window. "So Dad is special.
And Aunt Izzy and Uncle Michael." She looked again at her
hands, all of sudden feeling confused and a little scared about
everything. She bit her lip. "Mom, I think I need to think
about this stuff some more. It’s a lot to take in all at
once." She looked carefully at her mom, not wanting to hurt
her feelings. "I guess I should talk with Dad about this
stuff, huh?"
Her mom squeezed her shoulders in another quick hug. "Talk
to your dad when he gets home. Your dad will know a lot of the
answers you’re looking for."
Claudia smiled at her mom. "Dad knows a lot of stuff, doesn’t
he?"
Her mom smiled back, her face soft. "Yes, he does."
After that, they were quiet for a while. As they sat side-by-side
on the window ledge, Claudia and her mom looked up at the stars,
those teardrops of light hung on the vast face of the universe.
They sat on the window ledge for hours, staring up, both silently
wondering who might be looking
back, both silently accepting that there were some questions even
Claudia’s dad couldn’t answer.