Oh, shit. Michael stared up at the two adults in the doorway. Almost idly, his brain took a moment to note a similarity in their features, especially the eyes. Definitely brother and sister.
Well, this wasn't the first time he'd been caught somewhere he shouldn't have been. It wasn't even the worst--no one was pointing a gun at him this time, and he wasn't under arrest.
Although he might find himself there if he didn't come up with something quick.
"Uh...sorry about the box," he muttered, then ran out of things to say.
"Michael," said Mrs. DeLuca. "I'd forgotten you were back here."
What? Michael hoped he didn't look as confused as he felt. It didn't matter though, because she kept right on talking.
"Teddy, this is Maria's boyfriend, Michael Guerin. He helps out in the shop sometimes. Michael, my brother Theodore Laterro."
"Hey," Michael said awkwardly.
The introduction didn't seem to affect the man's attitude. It certainly didn't change his expression. "Sorry to burst in here," he said, not sounding all that apologetic. "I thought someone had broken in."
Someone had. But for some reason, Mrs. DeLuca wasn't calling him on it. Michael gave a noncommittal shrug and focused on the box by his knees. Opening it, he found half a dozen ceramic coffee mugs with bug-eyed green alien heads on them. He wasn't sure whether or not he was relieved that none appeared to be broken.
"They're okay," he said, picking up the box and rising to his feet. He set the mugs back on the shelf, squared his shoulders, and turned back to the adults. Laterro was standing there, staring at him.
Mrs. DeLuca seemed more at ease with the situation. "Teddy," she suggested smoothly, "why don't you go into the shop. I'll just get Michael started on his next project and join you. We can talk in between customers." Stepping to the side, she made room for her brother to pass.
Laterro gave Michael one more look, then left. Mrs. DeLuca shut the stock room door behind her, slipping immediately into a much more urgent mode.
"What's going on, Michael?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "Is it another alien problem?"
Well, that was certainly blunt. "Uh, no. Nothing like that," Michael hastened to assure her.
She visibly relaxed. "Well then, why are you here?" she asked. She didn't sound upset about it, just like she wanted to get this cleared up and move on to other things.
Problem was, Michael didn't really want to tell her. For one thing, she might get pissed that he was tailing her brother. In the past, he could've let her forthcoming anger run harmlessly off the hard shell he'd built up. But that was before Maria. Things were different now.
And, just as importantly, whatever was going on between Maria and her uncle was something she didn't want discussed in front of her mother. So there was no way he was going to be able to explain everything to Mrs. DeLuca. He'd just keep his mouth shut.
Unfortunately, Mrs. DeLuca wasn't that accommodating. "Michael," she said firmly, "I'd like an explanation, please."
"Uh...I wasn't hurting anything," he stumbled. "I was just...just...."
"Just?"
Wait. Maybe there was a way out of this after all. "The other day, I was going by your house," he said. "And I saw this guy lurking around and looking in your windows." That much should be safe enough to say, right?
Sadly, Mrs. DeLuca was smart enough to know that wasn't all. "And?" she prompted.
"And today I saw the guy again. Saw him go into your shop. So I kind of...kind of snuck into the back room." All true, and he hadn't brought up Maria at all.
"Why?"
Dammit! "I don't know, I just...I kind of..." he floundered.
Either Mrs. DeLuca thought she knew the answer, or she was taking pity on him. Maybe both. "So you thought you'd just make certain everything was on the up-and-up?"
"Uh...yeah. Sort of."
"Well, that was very sweet, Michael," she said, smiling at him. She might not have smiled so much if she'd known everything, though. She made it sound like he'd done a good thing, that he'd been looking out for her. If he had, that was just a byproduct. He'd been spying on her brother. And not, as it turned out, successfully.
"But as you can see, everything is fine. Teddy must have been looking for me when you saw him," she went on.
Michael shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "Yeah...sorry 'bout that."
"Not a problem." She paused. "How did you get in, anyway--pick the lock?"
He frowned. He thought they'd explained things to her during the whole alien confession scene. "I didn't need to. I could open it...you know," he said, not comfortable with laying it right out there. Not with someone right in the next room.
Comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh, right. Sorry. I'm just a little slow today."
"You weren't when you covered for me," he admitted. "So...thanks." He hesitated. "Uh...since I'm here, is there anything you need me to do? I know you don't have a broken arm anymore, but...if you need some help? Since you told your brother that's what I was doing," he finished in a rush.
Mrs. DeLuca studied him. Uncomfortable, he let his eyes drop away from hers. "You're a very complicated person, aren't you?" she said finally. Michael didn't think she was really asking, so he just shrugged. Complicated came with the whole alien hybrid package.
But that wasn't what she was referring to. "You can hurt Maria so terribly," she continued, "and then turn around and be so sweet."
That was the second time she'd called him that. "I am not sweet," he said firmly. He wasn't going to argue the first half.
Mrs. DeLuca gave a little laugh but didn't acknowledge his protest otherwise. "Yes, Michael, if you'd like to stay, you can help me."
*****
Several hours later, Michael stuck the bottle of cleaning solvent back on its shelf in the storeroom and stretched out his back. Mrs. DeLuca had kept him hopping: moving stuff around, repricing some merchandise she'd decided to put on holiday special (he particularly hated the plastic figurines of aliens in Santa suits) and, finally, cleaning what seemed like every last square inch of the shop. He was glad the room wasn't any bigger.
Sure, he knew how to clean; it wasn't hard. He'd just never bothered much with it. Hank had been too much of a slob to make more than a cursory cleaning worthwhile, and Michael would much rather spend time doing other things, now that he had his own place.
But today he had cleaned without complaint. Without a word, actually. He didn't have anything to say, anyway. Mrs. DeLuca and her brother had talked for a while, in between a few customers, but the conversation had been innocuous. Nothing to give Michael a clue to what Uncle Teddy--Mr. Laterro--was up to. And the guy had eventually left, arranging to meet Mrs. DeLuca for a bite at the Crashdown after she closed up. Michael hoped Maria got off work before then.
Anyway, he'd kept his silence and cleaned. He was kind of surprised he'd stuck with it that long instead of grunting out an excuse and leaving. It wasn't like he actually enjoyed it, not like Isabel--
Shit!
He'd completely forgotten about Isabel, and that she and Tess had gone back to continue working on the translation. And he'd blown them off to do scut work for Mrs. DeLuca. Isabel could never hear about this; he'd never live it down.
Which meant he'd better get his butt over to Tess's house pretty damn fast, and try to salvage something from the situation. Grabbing his jacket from the shelf where he'd tossed it earlier that afternoon, he headed into the shop.
Mrs. DeLuca looked up from the merchandise she was ringing up.
"I gotta go," Michael announced, ignoring the customer.
Smiling at him, Mrs. DeLuca said, "Thank you for your help this afternoon, Michael."
"Not a big deal," he muttered, slipping into his jacket and quickly fastening the buttons. He hadn't done anything she couldn't have. And he still owed her. Then, without another word, he was out the door.
He moved quickly, his long strides eating up the sidewalk, and tried to ignore the bustle of people on the streets. Didn't they have better things to do than get in his way? Shouldn't they be off doing that Christmas preparation crap that Isabel was always going on about?
As he neared the Sheriff's station, his feet slowed. If he turned at the next corner, he could go by the Crashdown. It would only take him a few blocks out of his way, and he could warn Maria that her mother and uncle would be meeting there, in case she didn't get off work before they showed up.
Or, at the very least, he could leave a message with Liz if she was there and Maria wasn't.
Except, if he told Maria about it, then she'd want to know how he knew. She'd pry it out of him, and then the whole spying-on-her-uncle thing would come out. And while technically he hadn't broken his promise--he'd just said he wouldn't actively look for the guy--he wasn't sure she'd see it that way.
Michael stood on the corner, hesitating, as he tried to weigh which action would cause the most harm to their tenuous relationship, and should therefore be avoided. He was leaning towards just biting the bullet and telling her all about it when a hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around.
"What the--" he cried out, only stopping when he saw who had accosted him.
Maria's Uncle Teddy, who was looking at him with scorn in his eyes. Michael, who was actually quite used to getting that sort of look, suddenly decided that for once he wasn't going to passively accept it.
Drawing himself up to his full height--which, he was pleased to see, was a good inch or so taller than the older man--he challenged, "Yeah? You want something?"
Laterro looked right back at him. "I want to talk to you."
"So talk," Michael said with a shrug.
But that wasn't what the guy had in mind. "Not here," he said. "We'll go to my motel."
Sparing one brief second to consider that this might be a trap--Max would be proud--Michael nevertheless agreed. "Lead the way," he said. If the guy tried anything, he'd find out Michael was more than a match for him. Even without his powers.
There was no conversation as they walked the eight or nine blocks to the Roswell Motor Inn. Laterro unlocked the door to a room at the far end, and they stepped inside. It wasn't a bad place, Michael noted. Not the Ritz, but nowhere near as sleazy as the nookie motel he and Maria had stayed in on the way to Atherton's dome. Hell, it was probably nicer than his own apartment.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Michael demanded, "Well?"
Laterro dropped into a chair and looked at him for a moment. Then, quite calmly, he stated, "I know what you're doing."
Michael arched an eyebrow, refusing to allow his sudden tension to show. Laterro was Maria's uncle. Human. Surely if he was part of some alien-hunting brigade, she would have mentioned something about it. He couldn't know who Michael was, could he?
"So what am I doing?" he asked steadily, but he was ready to drop his crossed arms and thrust his right hand out if he needed to use his powers.
"You think I'm not onto you? I know what punks like you do," Laterro barked. "You're setting my sister up. What's the plan, you gonna rob her? Steal her hard-earned cash and use it for drugs?"
Somehow this accusation didn't seem much better than an acknowledgment of Michael's origins would. It was kind of surprising. This attitude wasn't any different from what he expected from the world as a whole. But it still stung. Clenching his jaw, Michael asked, "What makes you think I'd do anything like that?"
"Look at you. The hair, the tattoo...you're probably in a gang."
Suddenly, Michael wanted nothing more than to plant his fist firmly in the middle of the man's face, and damn the consequences. Instead, he turned and started for the door.
"You stay away from them, from both of them, do you hear?" Laterro shouted after him.
Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Michael answered with one curt word. "No."
*****
It was late afternoon when Tess and Isabel finally gave up on the translation. They'd spent hours on it, but hadn't accomplished anything further, had no sudden insights into its meaning.
And with Max having to work and Michael flaking out on them, Isabel was a little less willing to give up her valuable time when she had so many other things to do. The translation could wait; they weren't having any success anyway.
So she said goodbye and left Tess to do...whatever Tess wanted to do. A sudden pang of sympathy struck her. Tess was all alone, and Isabel doubted Nasedo would be heading back to town to spend time with her. He probably hated Christmas as much as Michael did. But that didn't mean Tess had to be on her own, either. Isabel made a mental note to check her organizer and schedule in some time with Tess. Not alien-mystery-solving or enemy-fighting time, just some time together doing something fun, if they could remember what fun was. After all, before she'd known Tess was one of them, they'd had the very rough beginning of a friendship going on. Now that she did know--and now that Tess wasn't quite as fixated on Max, Isabel admitted to herself--maybe they could build on that beginning.
She was paused at a stop sign when a sudden pounding on the window brought her out of her reverie. Glancing over, startled, she watched as Michael opened the passenger door and climbed into the Jeep.
"It's about time you showed up," Isabel said tartly. "Did you finish your secret errand?"
"I need a ride to the quarry."
What kind of answer was that? Frowning, Isabel looked over at Michael, noticing for the first time the almost electric tension that radiated from him. "Michael, what's going on?" she asked.
"Forget it," he snapped, reaching for the door handle. "I'll walk."
"Wait a minute!" Isabel said. "I didn't say I wouldn't drive you." Checking the roads, she turned left at the intersection and headed for the quarry. She gave him a few sideways glances, but it was quite obvious he didn't want to talk. In fact, she suspected he wouldn't hesitate to jump out of the moving vehicle if she pressed him.
So instead of questioning him, she said, "We didn't have any more luck with the translation."
She wasn't surprised when the only response from Michael's side of the Jeep was silence. Trying again, she kept her voice light. "It was a good thing you didn't come back to Tess's. She really didn't have much beyond yogurt, and I know how much you adore that."
Still no response. Another glance, and she saw how tightly his hands were clenched. With a sigh, she consigned Michael's fluctuating moods to perdition and kept any further comments to herself. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.
Pulling up to the quarry, Isabel put a hand on Michael's shoulder before he could get out. His head snapped over to stare at her, but she didn't let it phase her.
"What time do you want me to pick you up?" she asked in what she thought was a particularly reasonable tone.
"Go away, Isabel."
"Michael--"
He interrupted, shrugging out from under her hand. "Look, I'm not angry at you, but if you don't get out of here fast, the Jeep could be toast, okay?" he forced out through gritted teeth.
"I'll come back at 8:00," she decided.
A sudden surge of electricity in the air stood the hair on the back of her neck on end. Michael scrambled out of the Jeep, saying, "I'll get home on my own. Get outta here, Izzy." Without a backward glance, he stalked down the path to the quarry rim.
Isabel watched him head straight to the edge of the chasm and stand there. After a moment, she gave in and turned the Jeep around. She hadn't gone far when a clap of thunder reverberated through the air. Startled, she glanced into the late afternoon sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight.
She stopped the Jeep and turned in her seat to look behind her. She could still make out Michael's figure poised on the rim of the quarry; even at that distance she could almost feel the energy radiating from him. Holding her breath, she watched as he heaved a large rock into the air and thrust out his hand.
With another thundering crash, the rock exploded in mid-air, raining shards and rubble down into the quarry below. Michael didn't hesitate; he just bent down to reach for another rock.
Isabel put a hand to the nape of her neck. The hair was lying flatly in place once more, but it felt like it should still be standing on end. With a shiver, she put the Jeep back into gear and continued down the road toward Roswell. She didn't know what had happened to Michael, but she was sure he hadn't just wanted to practice his new-found powers.
Because if that was all he wanted, he wouldn't have practically vibrated with anger. And she and Max had both volunteered to help him practice. If that was all he wanted, Michael would have invited them along. Wouldn't he?
CHAPTER 48
Taking a deep breath, Maria looked once more into the mirror to check that her make-up, her hair, that everything was perfect. After all, someone in the group had to look good, and she couldn't count on the guys, who were massively style-challenged. Thank god Alex--after much abject pleading on her part--had relented and absolved her from having to wear her Crashdown uniform. The simple red dress she'd borrowed from Liz wasn't her usual style, on or off stage, but it did look festive. Just the thing to wear to belt out Christmas carols.
She wasn't as nervous this time. Her stint in the school musical had helped, and even though here she was being herself instead of a character in a play, she didn't have the sinking feeling of total panic that had stricken her before her first gig with the Whits. Now she just had butterflies, which had started in her stomach and then spread through her whole body. And her hands, though steady, felt oddly hollow. Weird.
Lifting one of her hollow hands, she applied another coat of lip-gloss. You could never be too shiny, right? And the familiar berry flavor of the gloss was soothing. In fact, maybe she needed a sixth coat--
There was a knock on the ladies' room door, followed by a familiar voice. "Maria?" Alex called. "You're not flaking out on us again, are you?" He sounded a little worried. Maybe he had pre-show jitters, too.
Gathering up her makeup, she dropped it into her bag to leave with the guitar and drum cases. Then she headed to the door and flashed a smile at Alex. "Of course I'm not going to flake out. I'm a professional." At his look, she admonished, "Well, we are getting paid, aren't we?" and breezed past him.
A few hours later, adrenaline had long since overrun her nerves and she was riding an exuberant post-performance high. In the back hallway where they'd stashed the instrument cases, Maria threw jubilant arms around Alex. "That was so great!" she enthused, moving on to hug a surprised but not-objecting Marcus.
"It was just a gig," Chris put in as he deftly stowed his snare drum in its case. "We didn't even get to play our own stuff, just Christmas tunes."
"We did get a fifty-dollar tip on top of what they'd agreed on," Alex pointed out. "Of course, I think Mr. Chavez had sucked down a few too many glasses of the holiday nog when he gave it to me."
"Still," Maria caroled as she moved to hug the drummer. "It was great. We were great!"
"What is with you, DeLuca?" Chris said as she gave him a squeeze. "It went fine, but it wasn't the stuff Grammies are made of."
Alex grinned. "Looks like Mr. Chavez wasn't the only one into the holiday nog."
"I am not about to let you ruin my mood," Maria said, giving him a wide, giddy smile. "He came to hear me! Didn't you see him?"
"Who, Santa Claus?" Marcus chimed in.
"No, pinhead. Michael," she said, hugging Nicky, who quickly dropped the amp he was lugging to reciprocate.
"Michael? Which Michael?" he asked.
"The only one that matters," she sang.
"Guerin," Alex supplied. "Her boyfriend."
Nicky suddenly stopped hugging back. "He's here?"
"Uh huh."
"Maria, are you trying to get us thrashed? You don't go around hugging other guys, especially not if your boyfriend is around! What were you thinking?"
A familiar voice came from behind them. "Good question."
Maria whirled around and launched herself at Michael. His arms wrapped tightly around her for a moment; then they relaxed and let her slide out of his embrace. "Hey," he said in greeting.
"You came! I didn't know you were coming," she could hear herself babbling. "I thought you'd be off skulking about somewhere. I didn't know here's where you'd be skulking. Why didn't you tell me you were--"
"Don't you ever stop to take a breath?" he asked.
"No," she said irrepressibly.
"Didn't think so," Michael muttered. Maria gave him a mock pout, and he shrugged.
Alex clicked shut the latches on his guitar case and stood back up. "I didn't know you were a McGill & Chavez Insurance customer, Michael," he joked.
"I'm not."
"Nice of you to show up at their party, then."
Michael's tone was serious, but the corner of his mouth quirked up just the slightest bit as he replied, "Had to come. My girlfriend's in the band."
Maria could actually feel her smile widen. Not only had he shown up at her gig, but he'd called her his girlfriend again, and in front of witnesses, most of whom weren't even in their little in-the-know circle, which made it even better. It was practically...public. "Yeah?" she asked. "So what did you think of said girlfriend in said band?"
"It was good, I guess."
"You guess?"
"This type of music's not really my thing," he reminded her.
Right. Scrooge Guerin and his total disdain for all things Christmas. "Well, we'll let you know when we perform our tribute to the gods of heavy metal," Maria shot back with a smile. Reaching for her coat, she scrambled into it, then grabbed her bag and Michael's hand, in that order. Pulling him towards the door, she called back over her shoulder, "We're going. See you guys later." Behind her, she heard Alex let out a poorly-muffled snort.
Maria half-expected Michael to pull out of her grasp, but he let her tow him all the way to the Jetta. All he said was, "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere we can talk," she answered, digging in her bag for the keys. "That's why you came, right?"
"Yeah. Kind of." Catching the odd note in his voice, she glanced up. He didn't look any more enthusiastic at the prospect than she was. Well, he was the one who wanted to know all about Uncle Teddy. Unless he could suddenly read minds, he'd just have to put up with some conversation.
On an impulse, she tossed the keys at him. "Here. You drive."
"Where?"
"Anyplace we can talk," she answered as she moved around the car to the passenger side. "Except maybe not your apartment. Mom hasn't officially removed her ban on that yet."
Michael hesitated, then slid behind the wheel.
*****
He wasn't all that surprised to find himself driving up the road that led to the quarry. Where else were they going to go for a private talk? His apartment was off limits, and they couldn't go to Maria's in case her mother was there. As far as privacy went, this was as good as they were likely to get. So here he was, back at the spot he'd left barely twelve hours earlier. By the time he'd worked out his anger--or at least gotten it back under control--and made the long hike back into town to his apartment, it had almost been dawn.
Sticking the keys into his pocket, he got out of the car and leaned against it. Maria joined him, perching on the hood.
Michael glanced over at her. She'd fished a pair of brightly-striped mittens out of her pockets, and her hair blew slightly in the light breeze, picking up a few reddish highlights from the setting sun. She looked beautiful. Turning, he cradled her face between his palms and gave her a slow, lingering kiss.
When he pulled his head back, she was smiling up at him. "What was that for?" she asked.
"You were good. The singing," he said gruffly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And..." Isabel had told him to open up and tell Maria what he thought, no matter how stupid it made him feel. Maybe now was the time to try. It was just words, right? He made an attempt to put all he was feeling into those words, without much success. He had to settle for, "And...and you looked pretty good."
"Two compliments in one afternoon!" she said, grinning. "I must be doing something right."
He'd watched her, glowing up there on that stage, and all he'd wanted to do was bury his fingers in her hair and kiss her senseless. Well, that wasn't all he wanted to do, but it was all that was going to happen.
If even that much happened. Sure, things seemed better between them. She hadn't objected when he'd called her his girlfriend, and they still had their upcoming movie date; but he knew all too well how volatile their relationship could be, and he wasn't sure how she was going to react when he told her about yesterday's spy activities.
Maybe he'd better take another kiss first, just in case.
One kiss became two, and then three. He found himself standing between her knees, out of breath and entwined around her like some sort of sea monster. She tasted like raspberries.
Not giving his kiss-drugged mind any time to recover, he blurted out, "I met your uncle."
Maria stilled, but didn't pull away. She just looked at him and said, noncommittally, "You did."
"Yeah. I saw him and followed him to your mother's shop, and she introduced us." He hesitated, then added, "I didn't like him either, if it's any consolation."
"Well, it's always nice to get a concurring opinion," she said. She didn't sound angry, Michael thought with some surprise. "Then again, you're not exactly overburdened with people you like. So how come my uncle's on your hate list?"
Michael shrugged. "Just the usual anti-delinquent attitude." It hardly mattered; he should be used to it by now. What did matter was how she was taking the news. Which was remarkably well. "So how come you're not pissed at me?" he asked point blank.
"I don't know. I'm just not. Besides, Mom told me this morning that you'd...made a visit to the shop." Her eyebrows rose quizzically. "She said something about there not being a speck of dust left on the premises."
"You know, my life would be easier if you and your mother didn't talk so much," Michael muttered, moving to lean on the fender next to her perch. "It's unnatural."
"You and your new penchant for cleaning? Yep, it sure is," Maria teased.
"Yeah, laugh it up," Michael said without any mirth whatsoever. "And not one word to anyone else about it, either."
"Why? What's in it for me if I don't tell?"
"What do you want?" he asked warily.
Maria wrinkled her nose in thought. Finally she gave him a triumphant smile. "I get to choose the movie for our date!"
"Maria, I--" Michael began, then acquiesced. "Fine. You choose the movie." He didn't bother to tell her that he'd been pretty sure they would have ended up seeing whatever she wanted, anyway. She would have wheedled it out of him somehow, so it wasn't much of a price to pay for her silence. Besides, if things went the way he hoped, they might not actually see much of the movie, anyway.
"It's a deal, then. If anyone asks, you're a real slob," Maria said.
"It's a deal," Michael repeated. Maria smiled at him as she pulled the collar of her coat up higher. She was starting to look a little cold; maybe it was time to get back to the reason they were out here. He hesitated, then said, "Doesn't mean you're going to get out of talking about your uncle, though."
"And here I hoped you'd forgotten all about that," she said wryly.
"Nope. And you're not leaving here till you've talked, so spill it."
"We could just stay here forever," Maria offered. "You, me, sunsets over the quarry..." Michael refused to budge; he just looked at her and waited. She sighed. "Okay, so at some point Mom will need the car, and everyone and his brother will come looking for us, and I might as well just give up now, right?"
"C'mon, Maria. Is your uncle just a jerk, or am I gonna have to hurt him?" he asked, quite seriously. Or at least he was pretty sure he was serious.
She bit her lip. "It's just...I don't like to talk about it, okay? I don't even like to think about it--it hurts."
Something in her tone made Michel's stomach tense up. "Maria," he said, carefully keeping his voice even, "What did he do to you?"
Drawing back a little, Maria met his eyes. "What? What do you--oh, god no. Michael, it's not what you're thinking. He didn't do anything to me, not like you mean." She looked earnestly at him. "He didn't hit me, or touch me, or whatever. I promise you that."
Letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, Michael asked, "Then why...?"
"Why do I hate him?"
"Yeah."
Maria reached over and smoothed down the collar of his jacket. "Do you remember when I told you about my fantasy?" His interest immediately piqued, he raised an eyebrow, and she scolded, "Stop it, Michael! You know that's not what I meant. You know, the fantasy where my dad comes to get me and my mom in a limousine, and takes us off to live in some palace somewhere?"
Michael nodded. He remembered it very well. It had been the first time he'd ever realized that he could have something in common with a human. That maybe they weren't all the enemy.
"Well, Theodore Laterro is why I had to have that fantasy. He made my mom and dad split up."
Michael didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that, and he wasn't really sure how to react. Maria was looking at him, though, waiting. He'd better say something. He opened his mouth to speak. "Oh."
He immediately knew that was the wrong choice when Maria drew back and stared at him.
"'Oh'? I tell you something that, like, changed my whole life, something that's weighed on me for ten years, and all you can say is 'Oh.' Way to be supportive, Michael."
Suddenly the breeze wasn't the only thing carrying a chill.
"Look, I didn't mean...it's just..." Michael attempted. Oh, hell. "Well, what'd he do, hold a gun on them or something?" he burst out.
"What?"
"You know, force them or whatever. You said he made them..." Oh, this was not going well at all. He should have known better than to try and talk. Running his hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. "Let's start over, okay? Pretend I know next to nothing about families or marriage or any of that--"
"Not exactly a stretch, there, Michael."
"Whatever. So help me out here, Maria. How did he make your parents split up?"
"I heard my mom and dad arguing about it." She fidgeted with her coat buttons as she continued, "We made these mobiles at school. Liz's was all geometric shapes in blue and white, but I used every color of construction paper we had, 'cause I thought, you know, the more color the better. And Mrs. Parker came to pick Liz up at school, and she gave me a ride, too, because the mobiles were pretty big for a second-grader to cart around, you know?"
Michael wondered what a stupid elementary school art project had to do with her parents splitting up, but he kept his mouth shut. He just watched as she told the story.
"And I was bringing it in, but I tripped on the front step and dropped it. So I went inside, to get some tape to fix it, and that's when I heard them."
"Your parents?"
"Yeah. Michael, my parents never fought. I mean, they were practically like the same person, they got along so well. Even when any other parents would've been at each other's throats, they weren't."
That was hard for him to buy. Everybody fought sometimes, right? Even the all-too-perfect Evans parents argued from time to time, according to Max and Isabel. They didn't throw punches or anything, but they didn't always agree. "I don't know, Maria. Maybe they just didn't fight in front of you."
She shook her head. "They didn't fight at all, Michael. I'm sure of it. My parents were really open; they didn't hide anything from me. But there they were, fighting like crazy."
"About your uncle?" Michael guessed.
"Uh-huh. Mom wanted to give him money and this bracelet that had belonged to my great-grandmother. It was pretty valuable, I think. And my father said they'd given Uncle Teddy enough already, that he'd just waste it."
"On what?"
"I don't know. He'd sworn off gambling, so maybe on alcohol, or drugs. Hey, it could've been on the world's largest collection of sea monkeys, for all I know. But Mom gave him the money, and he left." She looked down at her hands. "A couple of weeks later, my dad was gone too."
Michael had a sudden mental image of a smaller Maria sitting on the curb in front of her house, right after her father had left. She'd cried, and her Dalmatian puppy had licked away her tears. When he'd gotten the flash from her last year, he'd thought he understood how much she'd hurt back then. Maybe he really didn't. "And you blame your uncle."
"I have to, Michael. If it's not his fault, then my dad abandoned us for no reason. It's bad enough that he left. I don't think I could handle knowing he did it because he wanted to. Or...or because of me."
Okay, he knew he didn't buy that. "He didn't leave because of you," Michael scoffed.
Her voice sharpened as she retorted, "You don't know that."
"Hey, I'm the expert on running from things, right?" Maria nodded, somewhat reluctantly, Michael thought. He took her hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. "Then believe me when I say people don't leave because of you. They leave because of them, because they're scared, or selfish, or just plain stupid."
Maria looked at him, her mouth gaping open slightly. Come to think of it, he'd kind of shocked himself. The words had come out so easily. And he'd unwittingly exposed a part of himself he wasn't all that comfortable sharing. Quickly he tried to recover, blurting, "I mean, you're not a saint or anything--"
"You know, Spaceboy," Maria interrupted, "I think I'm going to keep you."
His sudden facility for words deserted him. "Yeah. Whatever," he said, his mouth suddenly dry. She rolled her eyes, but didn't release his hand. "So..." Michael said, "so why's your uncle here now, anyway?"
"My mom hired a private detective to find him," Maria said. "I mean, can you believe it? She spent good, hard-earned cash to track him down. I don't even know why. It's not like she needs him to donate a kidney or something." A horrified expression covered her face, and her hand slipped from his. "Oh my god! What if she does need him to donate a kidney, or a lung or something? What if--"
Grabbing her shoulders, he cut her off. "She's not sick, Maria. Max healed her arm, right?" He could still feel the tension in her body. "Besides, she would've told you if she was sick. You guys talk all the time, remember?"
"We used to, before--" Maria abruptly ended her sentence.
He grimaced. "Before you got sucked into the big alien conspiracy."
"That wasn't what I was going to say, Michael. Well, okay, it was, but it's not exactly what I meant."
"She knows about us now. Nothing's stopping you from talking to her any more."
Maria gave a rather unladylike snort. "Oh yeah, like that's gonna happen."
"Nothing else has changed, though. You're still the same--you sniff that oil crap and talk too much and dress weird--
"You're one to talk, Mr. 'I wouldn't wear anything even remotely fashionable, even if I had the slightest clue what that was'."
Michael ignored her slam. His clothing had to meet three criteria: it had to be cheap, comfortable, and help him fade into the woodwork. "You're still best friends with Liz and Alex. Nothing's changed," he told her.
"I would call having a boyfriend a pretty major change. You do remember that we're in a relationship, don't you?"
Pulling back, he snapped, "So, what? You're saying this is my fault?"
"It's not about you, Michael. Well, it is, but not about you personally, about your Czechoslovakian-ness. It's just because I have a boyfriend now. Any boyfriend. I mean, I could be dating Ghandi, but there are still things I would never share with my mother."
Somehow, being the boyfriend of Mrs. DeLuca's daughter didn't seem all that much less scary that being the half-alien boyfriend of Mrs. DeLuca's daughter, but Michael let out a breath and forced himself to relax. "I don't think she'd worry so much if you were dating Ghandi. He doesn't get around much."
"Like you do?"
"Hey! I got more going on than some dead Indian guy," he protested.
"Oh, yeah?"
"You ought to know about it. You've been there."
"Well, let's give it some thought: On the one hand, we have Michael; on the other, Ghandi. Michael. Ghandi. Hmmm...hard decision."
Okay, who decided to make this pick on Michael day? Time to change the subject. "About your uncle. Since I'm apparently the complete opposite of Ghandi, want me to go beat him up for you?"
"Who, Ghandi?" she asked, her lips curving upwards.
"What? No, your uncle." He rolled his eyes, then continued, "Or I could make him real itchy. I did that to one of the jocks that ganged up on Max last year."
"Not necessary, Spaceboy. But thank you."
"I'm running out of ideas, then." Putting his arm out, he wrapped it around her shoulders and was relieved when she sank back against him.
"I'll just avoid him until he leaves again," Maria said. "He can't possibly want to stay in Roswell any longer than he has to. Nobody ever does." She paused. "But if he hangs around my house, you might just find yourself with a roommate."
"Couch is yours," Michael said promptly, slamming a door shut on the mental images that idea gave him, then added, "But you get stuck with Mrs. Evans's afghan this time."
As he'd hoped, the memory of the delicately crocheted blanket brought a smile to her lips. "I wouldn't want to deprive you," she said in mock seriousness.
"I think I'll survive." He paused. "If you want to get out of the house, you could always come help with the translation or something."
"The translation? You mean that alien book thingy?"
"Yeah. We've got some of it figured out. Max thinks it'll help with the whole save-our-home-planet mission."
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. It seems kinda pointless, but I don't think Max is gonna give up on it."
"Maybe you shouldn't, either," Maria said slowly.
"Whatever." He shrugged. "Not like I got that much to do for the next couple of weeks, anyway."
A devilish glint appeared in her eyes. "Oh, I think I can come up with enough to keep you busy, Spaceboy," she drawled.
If he wasn't careful, he was going to pull a muscle from following her mood swings. Somehow he didn't really care, though; this particular mood sounded promising. "Yeah? Like what?" he asked, leaning in towards her lips.
Her mittened hand came up to caress his cheek. "Well, since you've proven yourself so good at it..." she began suggestively, then laughed and slid off the Jetta's hood, away from him. "I've got an entire house that could use a good cleaning."
Darting away, she barely managed to keep out of his reach as he roared out an exasperated, "Maria!"
TBC...
continue to chapters 49 and 50
email me