Summer Solstice (Roswell Fanfic)

Summer Solstice (Part Three)

PART THREE

For an hour I stay there beside Michael, unable to fall asleep. My body’s already reacting, changing, becoming hostile to me; that I’m insomniac only illustrates that point. Finally I give up on sleep, and flicking on the hall light, I pad down to the café in search of some chamomile tea.

There’s the rushing sound of the air conditioner, kicking on even this late at night, more evidence of how sweltering the day has been. One glance at the clock shows me that it’s well past eleven. I pull my bathrobe tight and place the kettle on the stove, making a mental note to bring some teabags up to our apartment, so next time I can brew a pot without leaving our kitchen.

When the kettle begins to hiss and whistle something strange tugs at my awareness, at my periphery. Something solid makes me glance up—and I find Max outside the front door, staring in. He’s like an apparition and I jump, giving a little squeal and he waves at me, apologizing with his eyes. Those beautiful, familiar, wistful eyes.

“Hi,” I say, after turning the key in the lock and cracking the door open.

“God, Liz, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, looking past my shoulder, inside the restaurant. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I touch him lightly on the arm, wanting to reassure him. “It’s okay, Max. It’s okay.” He hasn’t come to see me like this yet, alone when it’s only me. I don’t think I’ve been by myself with him—really alone—since before he left town years ago. “Come inside?” I ask, hoping. Again he looks past me, so I explain quietly, “Michael’s sound asleep.”

“So why aren’t you?”

I smile, despite myself, at his concern for me. How can he and Michael be so different, yet sometimes so much alike?

“Come on in for a cup of tea,” I urge, opening the door wider.

He shakes his head. “I just came to see if everything’s okay.”

“You already came by earlier. Michael told me.” He glances down the street, and I have the sense that he might bolt; he’s got that wide-eyed look that’s become so recognizable since his return in December. A look he had long before he ever left town years ago.

His gaze settles back on me. “I was worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

Maybe with everything that’s changing in my life, I’m not willing to accept his distance tonight, but as he takes a step back, mumbling, “I shouldn’t have come,” I stop him. Stepping out onto the sidewalk in my robe, barefoot, I block his path and whisper, “Max, can’t you be around me at all? Even for just a few minutes?” My eyes mist and he becomes a tall blur, more like a memory than the changed man in front of me.

“It hurts too much,” he admits, that soft-spoken voice bringing me back to the present. “I’m sorry, Liz. I wish that it didn’t.”

Pulling my robe tighter around myself, I say, “It hurts me that we can’t be friends.”

“We’ll always be friends.”

I snort derisively, turning away from him. “After everything, Max, you could at least be honest with me.”

“Liz,” he insists, following me as I enter the restaurant. “You know I’d do anything for you…and Michael.”

“Then be in our lives, Max,” I answer, spinning to face him. “Please stop shutting us out.” He shudders visibly at my words, but I feel bold for some reason tonight. One thing I’ve learned these past few years is that life is a precious gift; you can’t spend time wasting it with broken relationships, lost time. “Last December, I thought I had you back,” I explain, searching his face. “That we all did.”